The soldier brandished his sword in gauntlet-spiked hands.
“I am Radrock of Kellyster! Mine is the name that will echo in your dying ears!”
From atop the stairwell, Radrock leaped down into the awaiting violence of his enemies. He landed in a roll, slicing across the hamstrings of the unarmored fighters. They fell screaming beneath him as he rose with whirling blade, flinging blood and fear through the courtyard. Yorik’s men fell back, but Radrock’s metal spikes cut the air and their throats before they could escape.
Yorik had heard the attack, rushing at breakneck speed to the site, but it was too late. The last of his men lay in the trampled grass, broken bodies stained with dark red. His brother had not come to save them, but he drew out his blade nonetheless.
The spiked warrior turned, “You too will die at my name! Radroooock!” He charged, sinking his blade deep.
As Yorik lay dying, a call rose, “Halkis comes with aid! We are saved!”
“No!” Radrock shouted, but Yorik had already died, a smile on his face.