Episode 6: Land of the Rising Star (Part 5 of 6)

Wasting no time, Locke turns for the stairs that lead off the stage and runs down along with Akorrin. The two make their way across the hall, and satisfied that is nothing else in the hall to be seen, the two decide to ascend the staircase they have yet to negotiate – taking them up to another floor. As they begin to approach the top, they hear a loud boom. Somebody paces the hallways above with heavy and angry footsteps as they grumble out loud in frustration.

"That damned fool! It was not his place to take what was rightfully mine! I will make him pay!"

Locke recognizes the grimy voice immediately.

"Maroco," Locke hisses.

Akorrin whispers, "Who?"

"The wretched piece of dirt who was the mastermind behind bringing Lil here, I'm sure," Locke explains. "He and his late sister run what I suppose is a branch of Lucio's bandits back on Murrad – The Vega Clan."

"Hm. It appears he may be an obstacle."

"We can take him," Locke says confidently. "His sister didn't fare well against me – he'll fall to the two of us!"

As Locke completes his final word, the pacing from above them ceases; suddenly, a voice booms angrily, "Who goes there?"

"Your worst nightmare, Morocco!" Locke calls back, his voice a mystery to Maroco at this point. He then begins to walk up the rest of the stairs, slowly revealing himself to Maroco who stands on the other side of the hallway. Finally reaching the top of the stairs, with Akorrin directly behind him, Locke glares at Maroco and coldly states, "I've come for Lilanei."

Maroco's eyes narrow on Locke's figure before his face begins to contort in rage, "You! That means. . . Where is my sister? Where is my Madoco?"

Locke's glare softens slightly as he looks to the ground.

"It's ashame," Locke states. "If she wasn't linked to your sorry hide, and she didn't get so uptight about Lilanei, she and I could've had something good between us. Put it this way," he says before grinning. "You're no longer a twin anymore."

Maroco's face suddenly softens before slowly twisting into one of rage once more as he begins, "You. . . You didn't! Madoco!"

"Oh, I did!" Locke snaps. "But I didn't want to – she made me do it. Now, unless you want to join her in whatever hell that fiends like you descend to, take us to Lilanei, now!"

Tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes, Maroco's voice chokes in anguish, "Madoco. . . You killed my Madoco. Argh! I've had enough! You. . . I will take all of my rage upon you, and avenge my sister!"

"I'd like to see you try, puppet!" Locke snaps as he withdraws a bottle of potion and takes a long drink from it; with a quick sigh, Locke throws the glass bottle at Maroco as his face also twists in anger. "Puppet for this Lucio! There was me thinking that the great Vega twins served no one, but you disappoint me. Like your sister, I'm going to kill you, but unlike your sister, I'm not going to be sorry to do it. You took my Lil, so you're mine, Maroco!"

"Locke!" Akorrin exclaims, reaching for his own sheathed weapon.

"Master," Locke replies, looking to Akorrin once more, "I ask you only to join the battle if I fall to the wayside. Otherwise, I want the pleasure of slaughtering this scum myself."

With a frown, Akorrin says, "If you must. But. . . remember what I have taught you."

"I can't promise that. He's done too much!" Locke answers.

A sudden cry from behind him causes Locke to turn once again to Maroco, who now holds his mace in the air as he breathes heavily, "I've had enough for one day! I've lost my precious flower, and now a scumbag tells me that my sister lay dead! Enough! Fight me now!"

In a frenzy of rage, Maroco charges forwards and with great force swings his mace to the right in an attempt to strike Locke square in the jaw; however as he lunges forward, his rage overtakes him and he stumbles, causing the attack to fall short. Immediately, Locke grabs his sickle from his boot as he steps forwards to face Madoco. Thrusting his arm up in the air in an uppercut motion, Locke attempts to slash the blade upwards, slashing open Maroco's throat and jaw; yet, Maroco catches himself in his stumble and Locke's sickle simply brushes past him.

"What do you mean you lost your flower?" Locke asks in rage, knowing precisely who he refers to. "Where is my Lilanei?"

Still breathing heavily from pure anger, a grin now creeps upon Maroco's lips as he mutters, "Your Lil? I'm afraid not anymore!"

Completing his sentence, Maroco attempts to lunge the end of his mace forwards into Locke's abdomen; however, Locke slams the butt of the handle of his sickle down, pushing Maroco's mace harmlessly away from his body in a counter attack. Locke grabs Maroco by the collar of his leather armour and pulls him forwards as he takes his sickle and attempts to jab it into Maroco's chest; however as he tries to, Maroco raises his mace and with a mighty “clash!” the two weapons once again hit each other as Locke and Maroco separate. Locke pants slightly, before once again speaking.

"Not anymore?" Locke echoes. "Explain yourself, you miserable lapdog! Where is she?!"

"Hm-hm-hm," Maroco softly chuckles before finally saying, "I'm afraid we've both been duped. My precious flower – your Lil – now lays in the clutches of that disgusting vagrant!"

Building himself up with anger, Maroco emits a loud cry before thrusting his mace forwards once more, this time the mace colliding successfully with Locke's chin – causing him to bite down violently and to become very dazed and confused. Just like before, Locke groans as a neausous feeling hits his stomach and the area around him begins to swirl slightly as he is dazed. He stumbles for a moment, slightly confused before, acting on his instincts alone, he lunges his whole body forwards with just enough strength to keep his sickle pointed out in front of him. The sickle lands on Maroco's person, striking the villain in the front of his right shoulder.

A self satisfied smirk growing on his face, Maroco takes another swing for Locke as this time the mace collides with his right shoulder, causing Locke to stumble slightly backwards. The impact of the blow causes a surge of seething pain to rise from Locke's shoulder – the pain seemingly snapping Locke out of his dazed state. He clutches his wound with his free hand and looks to it, seeing blood in his palm.

Frowning, Locke looks towards Maroco and says, "You mean Lucio has her? I thought you wanted her. What happened? You let that demon take her from you? Coward! I'll kill you for letting her go!"

Locke thrusts his sickle forwards once more, the sickle striking Maroco in his already wounded shoulder. Immediately after the strike, Locke clutches Maroco by the throat and exerts some pressure through his fingers, squeezing Maroco by the throat before he twirls on his feet and throws Maroco back so they essentially switch positions – Locke where Maroco was standing and vice versa. Before he lets Maroco go, Locke takes the handle of his sickle and jabs it into Maroco's forehead, hitting him hard and sending him stumbling backward.

"Idiot," Maroco grumbles beneath his exasperated breath. "You know not of what you speak!"

Dizzily, Maroco pushes his mace directly forwards in an attempt to butt it into Locke's face once again; however Locke sees the attack coming and simply evades it by leaning his head to the side. As Maroco withdraws his mace from the missed attack, Locke springs into action by gripping his sickle and immediately slicing it upwards into Maroco's abdomen and chest – slicing his armour and leaving a very sharp graze on his abdominal region and chest. Before Maroco can react, Locke quickly takes the blade and slashes it across Maroco's chest, creating a cross shape on Maroco's upper body, before Locke swiftly kicks Maroco in the stomach to round off his attack.

"I know plenty!" Locke snaps back. "You thought she'd bow to your will and not so charming charms," Locke begins to grin before saying, "but you know as well as I do where her heart lies – and it wasn't with you!"

Holding his stomach, Maroco drops his mace to the side, letting the large weapon fall to the ground with a massive boom; he glares up at Locke with narrowed eyes as he pants and says, "Idiot. . . All we needed was some time! Compared to your ghastly features, I must have been a God to her!"

As he speaks, venom dripping from his words, Maroco slyly withdraws his dagger from his belt and slashes it forwards, ripping into Locke's stomach and causing a large gash which now gushes with blood. Grinning and emitting a slight chuckle, Locke quickly takes a potion from his bag once more and drinks from the bottle until it is empty, restoring Locke's vitality; however blood still drips from his wounds.

Locke stands upright once more, his grin still on his face as he asks Maroco, "If you're such a God to my woman, why is it then you had to kidnap her? You know as well as I do she has eyes for one person in this room and it isn't you. If you've got the features of a God, it's the God of Backsides!"

Locke takes his sickle and slashes it, this time at Maroco's face. The sickle shreds across the flesh of Maroco's face, just below his eyes, before Locke quickly reaches out and grabs Maroco by the collar. Pulling him forwards, Locke cocks his head back and throws it forward, his head colliding with Maroco's in a vicious headbutt and with a loud "crack!" of bone hitting bone. The blow forces Maroco to stumble back five feet, very close to where Akorrin stands. Having seen enough, Maroco suddenly hears a loud growl emit from behind him. As he turns, he sees the massive figure of Akorrin standing before him. Unsheathing his own sickle, the giant Dragonborn lunges it forwards as it collides with Maroco's abdomen. Blood immediately begins to gush from the wound before Akorrin takes his large clawed foot and shoves it into the small human's chest, causing him to stumble back as the sickle withdraws from his flesh.

Maroco, now coughing and spluttering blood from his mouth, shoots a dark glare at the Dragonborn before turning to Locke and grumbling, "I've seen enough. . . My flower may have been taken from me, you may have slain my sister in cold blood, and you may have won this time. But, I will destroy you – and I will make it my mission to do so."

"Oh, what?" Locke screams mockingly. "You going to run away again?"

Maroco chuckles evilly through his pain as he says, "Run. . . I suppose not even an idiot like you would know his limits and when it is best to flee."

"Because my master taught me to fight to the bitter end! I suppose your master is nothing more than a coward. That's why your sister fell to my blade and you're about to cut and run. Very well – flee! We'll meet again, and next time, it'll be your end!"

"Ha ha ha. . . We will see about that!"

On that final note, Maroco reaches into his armour before thrusting his hand forward, a ball of smoke erupting around him and filling the area in which our Heroes stand; before the smoke clears, Maroco's evil chuckle can still be heard as he cries, "Tell my precious flower that I will be back for her soon enough!"

"Gone," Locke mutters as he places his sickle back in its sheathe on his boot. "But I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised since that seems to be his trademark. I thank you for that intervention, master. I'm not sure how it would've ended it you didn't."

Akorrin now sheathing his bloodied sickle, places his hand on the boy's head as it begins to emit a glow; Locke suddenly feels refreshed before Akorrin ruffles Locke's hair and takes away his hand, looking to him with a smirk as he says, "It is no problem. I simply had to. After all, you're no good to Lil if you're dead."

"That's true," Locke replies with a smile. "At least that encounter has taught us she's still very much alive!"

"Yes. . . And for that, I am quite thankful."

Looking back to the battle ground, Locke notes the two doors that surround the now bloodstained floor of the hallway. Looking back and forth to the two doors, Locke walks over to the door on his right and attempts to listen inside of it; however he hears nothing behind the door and so he decides to simply grasp the handle and open it. As the door swings, he realizes the room inside appears to be a guardian's quarter – and contains nothing of particular value. Meanwhile, Akorrin observes the door directly across and finds it, too, is a guardian's quarter.

Akorrin looks to Locke and mutters, "This must be where Lucio's bodyguards rest."

Locke looks further down the hallway and notices at the end of it a very large staircase which ascends upwards.

Raising his head, Locke points to the staircase and announces, "If this is the bodyguard's chambers, then that large staircase must go up to Lucio's abode, surely."

Akorrin now looks to the staircase as well and nods, "You may be right."

Locke and Akorrin begin a small run from their position near the descending staircase and make their way towards the ascending staircase before them. Before they reach the staircase, Locke stops, Akorrin stopping just ahead of him as Locke rushes over to the next right hand door before him in order to check it. He opens it to find it is nothing more than an empty guard's chamber. Satisfied he'll find nothing here, Locke rejoins Akorrin and the two stop once they reach the bottom of the staircase.

Our duo finally ascend the staircase, alert and aware of what may lie ahead. As they reach the end, they find themselves in a massive chamber, almost like a throne room. Tables and cabinets are scattered to the sides as a tall and ominous fireplace stands at the far end of the room. In front of it, a tall throne sits as it is illuminated by the fire. Five bandits surround the area around the throne – guarding the single male who makes the seat his. Sitting back on the throne is a slender, yet slightly muscular, Tiefling. Dark horns curve back as his bouncy purple hair sits softly on his deeply tanned shoulders. His golden eyes now narrow slightly as he stares down the two intruders who have just entered his chamber, a grin now adorning his crooked lips.

"Well, what is this, then? I see I have myself a pair of early starters. The party hasn't started yet boys! Or," his voice slightly increases in pitch as he continues, "are we perhaps not here for the party?"

"You're damn right we're not here for any party!" Locke speaks up, stepping before Akorrin. "We're here for Lilanei Serpenthelm! Where is she?"

The Tiefling, Lucio, simply chuckles before he exclaims, "Boy, when you grow up to be a big man like I am and begin to have an eye for women, you will eventually find names are foolish pleasantries. Lilanei? No, it doesn't quite ring a bell, but then again – I've never really cared to know!"

"Long green hair. . . Erm, Half-Elf. Five feet and seven inches tall. Can be quite stuck up. Likes to read. . . Ring any bells for you yet?" Locke asks mockingly.

Lucio mockingly rubs his chin in thought before muttering, "Mm. . . Nope! Not a single one."

"Okay," Locke states. "How about we get a line up of your wenches and then I can show you who she is? We haven't come all this way just to find out she's not here!"

Lucio laughs once again as he stares Locke down with a bemused grin, "You're quite amusing, boy! Perhaps, if you lay down your weapons, I will let you remain as my jester."

"There's only one clown around here, pal," Locke begins before withdrawing his sickle and pointing towards Lucio. "And it's you! I want Lilanei back! Release her!"

"Ha! Another one! You do make me laugh, boy. Enough about this “Lildandy.” Let's talk about you – and that very interesting companion of yours. You have quite a lot of nerve, Lizard, venturing into my mansion so freely!"

Akorrin, who until now stood beside Locke very tense and alert, now growls loudly as he bellows, "I will destroy you for what you have done to my people – and for causing the death of my beloved brother!"

"Hm," Lucio mumbles before his eyes brighten with a mischievous glow. "Ah. . . I knew I recognized you! You're from Zensai, am I right?"

"That's Tengai, you dumb oaf!" Locke snaps. "And once again, in case those big ugly ears of yours deceive you, her name's Lilanei! We've come for her, and we'll take her back now!"

Lucio shoots a glare at Locke as he says, "Jester, did your wretch for a mother not teach you manners? I was speaking to my dear old friend. We'll discuss this Little Annie later." He now looks to Akorrin with a bemused smile as he announces proudly, "As I was saying! Ah yes, I remember you well, Lizard. And I remember this brother of yours. Mm, yes. . . The flesh of freshly killed Dragonborn gives such a sweet aroma, don't you think? My men ate quite well that night!"

"You monster!" Akorrin cries in fury. "I'll make you pay for this, Lucio!"

"Mm," Lucio grumbles. "I suppose my party could use a main course. . . Very well. If you would like to put your sniveling snout on the line, then so be it! Like those years ago, my men will feast on your juicy flesh!"

Locke growls slightly, before then shouting, "My master and I will roll through your little pawns here, and after that, we'll take your head and make a stew out of it, goat features! My mother taught me manners, and how to make a killer goat stew," Locke then lifts his sickle, with a deadly expression on his face, "and I do mean killer."

"Very well, then!" Lucio exclaims as he raises his hands in the air in a welcoming gesture. "While we are on the subject of animals – oh, I do find it amusing when poor lost sheep fight over me! Mind you, I usually prefer those sheep to be women. But nonetheless. Go on then. Why dirty my own handsome features, when I have such entertaining pawns ready to do as I wish?"

"Tripe!" Locke exclaims before roaring in a mocking voice, "You're supposed to be the mighty Lucio! If you're so high and mighty, you get down here and try and lay waste to us. But I assure you, it'll be your tail that gets kicked! Come on, you coward! Get down here and fight!"

Lucio chuckles, smiling to Locke as he says, "Ah! There you go with those brilliant one liners. You really should consider the life of a comedian."

"We'll see how comedic it is for you when you've got my foot so far down your throat, you'll be passing a boot!" Locke replies angrily.

"Yes, yes, yes," Lucio mumbles mockingly. "Whatever you say, little boy. . . Now, are you not going to fight, or am I going to have to make the first move and use one of my pawns to my advantage?"

"We'll go through your pawns, slaughter the king," Locke exclaims, pointing to Lucio once more, "and then take our queen back!" Locke then looks to Lucio's henchmen and cries, "First checkmate wins. Come on! We'll take you all on!"

Lucio now emits a booming laugh as he points towards Locke and Akorrin and exclaims, "Go and get them, my pawns! Let's end this wild game of chess and get to the party, shall we?"

As Lucio completes his command, all five of his guards begin to approach Akorrin and Locke. Leading the pack is a massive and dirty Troglodyte who now bounds forwards. As the guards move ever closer to our duo, Locke quickly takes the time to reach for his repeating crossbow which he clutches in both hands and aims for the Troglodyte that is the nearest to advance on them.

"Try this piercing on for size, you dirty lizard!" Locke cries as he squeezes the trigger of his crossbow, forcing a bolt to shoot from the string of the weapon which flies out towards the Troglodyte – and upon impact pierces the Troglodyte right in his heart.

The Troglodyte emits a very quick sound akin to him vomiting before his eyes roll into the back of his head and he falls to the ground, dead. Now Akorrin, drawing his sickle, begins a charge forwards, crying out angrily in rage as he does. Seeing the massive Dragonborn charge straight for him, the robed guard takes no chances and holds his club forth as be begins to charge directly towards Akorrin. The guard, holding his club in both hands, takes a swing for Akorrin's lower abdominal region. However as he makes his swing, Akorrin opens his large clawed hand and catches the club in his palm. Akorrin squeezes the club in his hand and then, with one mighty thrust of his arm, shoves the robed guard backwards – successfully deflecting the guard's attempted attack. Meanwhile, the remaining three guards begin to dash forwards across the massive chamber and towards our Heroes. The final enemy to move, the Kobold, dashes forward and skids to a halt before hoisting a javelin in the air as he thrusts it forwards. The javelin flies forwards with much force as it lands in Locke's left shin.

Screaming in pain, Locke kicks the handle of the javelin, which may have not been the smartest move as the weapon slices Locke's leg a little more before it falls out of his shin. Angrily, Locke charges forwards, letting out a roar of anger much like his master – his repeating crossbow resting in both of his hands as he charges towards an armoured guard. Only five feet away, and just past his master Akorrin, Locke stops, aims the crossbow at the guard's head, and pulls the trigger – causing another bolt to fly from the crossbow which lands straight in the center of the guard's forehead and plunges deep enough into his skull that it kills the guard outright.

In the meantime, Akorrin snatches the collar of the robed guard and lifts him off his feet and directly in front of his snout. With a furious growl, he thrusts his sickle forward, piercing the man directly in his intestines – the fatal blow soon killing him as his internal system is poisoned. Akorrin simply tosses the man to the side, his dead body falling limp to the floor. Seeing his comrade fall, the Kobold to Locke's right lunges forth, attempting to deal him a blow with yet another javelin. However, this time Locke is prepared for the Kobold's attempted attack and simply ducks out of its way as the javelin flies through the air, passing not only Locke but Akorrin too until it lands in the stomach of the dead Troglodyte.

"You need some aiming lessons!" Locke quips to the Kobold as he laughs.

Suddenly, a bald man who has yet to play a part in the battle now sees his chance as he rushes to Akorrin and takes his club, which he holds and thrusts at Akorrin with all of his might. The bald man closes his eyes and he feels the club strike something. Feeling successful, the man opens his eyes and sees that the club has simply hit Akorrin's palm, as the Dragonborn now holds the club in the same fashion he did earlier to defend himself. Akorrin narrows his eyes and audibly growls at the guard, whose knees begin to tremble as the cowardly guard whimpers at the sight.

Seeing the Kobold in front of him, Locke puts away his crossbow on his back as he then withdraws his trusty sickle. Looking at the Kobold, Locke emits a battle cry and throws himself into action. However, the excitement of the battle causes Locke to be less calculating with the strikes he deals with his sickle. As he lunges for the Kobold, his moves are easily read and the Kobold simply ducks out of the way of the blow, cackling slightly from pathetic attempt at striking him. Meanwhile, Akorrin – still holding the Bald Man's club – clenches his claws around the blunt end, causing it to shatter and crush under his great strength. Suddenly, he pulls on the club, causing the man who still holds it to stumble forth and directly into the sickle which Akorrin holds before him. With a slight twist, Akorrin pulls the sickle from the bald man's chest and allows him to collapse on the ground before him.

Undaunted by his previous miss, the Kobold now retrieves his final javelin which he holds onto tightly as he jabs it forth and into Locke's shoulder – causing a gash to appear across the skin which is a large graze but does not split the skin and cause any bleeding. Clutching his shoulder as he hisses from the burning sensation of pain, Locke grits his teeth and growls as he reaches out for the Kobold's arm. He grabs its wrist and clutches it tightly before he pulls the Kobold towards him and lifts the blade of his sickle towards the Kobold's throat. The Kobold stumbles right into the tip of the blade, causing the sickle to slice straight its throat until it points out the back of its neck. Locke pulls his arm back violently, causing the sickle to slide out of the Kobold's throat as he releases his grip of the Kobold – causing him to drop to the ground dead. Locke kicks the creature slightly before then emitting his trademark wad of spit into the Kobold before he turns and looks to Lucio who still sits atop his throne.

"Checkmate!" Locke cries, pointing his bloody sickle at Lucio. "Your pawns have fallen to our hands. It's your turn, Lucio!"

Lucio simply chuckles, leaning his chin in his left palm as his elbow rests on the arm of his throne, "Ah. . . You do play a good game of chess, I'll give you that."

Akorrin immediately snarls, yelling, "Enough games! We will destroy you!"

"That's right!" Locke cries. "We'll destroy you, and then we leave with Lilanei. Now I'll ask you one last time, moron. Where is she?"

Locke, angrily brandishing his sickle, begins to take a step forward as he hears a sudden “swoosh!” pass through the air. In a split second, he feels a great burst of force collide with his back, causing reel forward in shock and sting in pain – yet not causing any great amount of damage.

Lucio suddenly booms with laughter after which he wipes a tear from his eye as he says, "Well well, pet. It's nice of you to join us at last! I was starting to worry that you would miss all of the fun."

Locke turns around, irritated by the force he felt upon his back. Akorrin does the same and immediately they recognize the figure standing across the room – it is Lilanei! However, she lacks her usual modest armour. Instead, she now wears similar golden clothes to the girls of Lucio's harem, except for a flowing skirt at her sides and a slightly glowing necklace around her neck. She stands still, a tall staff in her hand as her eyes stare blankly ahead at Lucio.

"Lilanei!" Locke cries.

"Ha ha ha, what's that, boy? Is that her name? Oh dear, I'm afraid I've simply called her 'pet' since I've acquired her. Of course, Maroco wasn't very enthused about it, but. . . I suppose you could say that I possess a kinship with Half-Elves. Many Half-Elves are looked down upon for what they are, as many of us Tieflings are looked down upon for – well, the horns don't really help, do they? In any case, I've had enough of this island and of this world. I've had enough of the cruel treatment my race has received. I will destroy the Dragonborn of this island, and soon I will make this entire world aware that Tieflings are not the inferior race! We will thrive and overthrow those who look down at us like scum and garbage!"

Locke simply stands, his mouth agape, partly because of the attire Lilanei is in but also in disbelief that she ruthlessly assaulted him. He looks into her eyes and easily notices that this isn't Lilanei he is looking at anymore – but simply a puppet to which Lucio is the puppeteer.

He growls and snaps his head back, turning around to Lucio and screaming, "What have you done to her, you freak?"

Lucio chuckles as he casually explains, "Why, I've house trained her. Why do you ask?"

"Miserable Goat Freak!" Locke cries. "Let her go! She's of no use to you!"

"Ah, but you're wrong, boy. She is quite an entertaining pet. I enjoyed draining every bit of her spirit away so that I could use her to my advantage."

"ARGH!" Locke roars in anguish. "I will kill you for this! I'll rip out your filthy heart, you disgusting being!"

"Ha ha ha. . . Well, I'm afraid I don't have one of those, boy," Lucio says with a cruel chuckle. "In any case, it's not my heart you'll be ripping out. Isn't that right, pet?"

Locke looks back to Lilanei, who is now pointing her staff towards him.

"Lil," Locke begins. "What are you doing? It's me! Locke!"

Suddenly a cry emits from the end of the chamber, "Ah! Locke! Is that your name? I'll have to remember that when my servants are writing the menu."

"Master," Locke says, looking to Akorrin in great distress. "What do we do?"

"I. . . I don't know," Akorrin finally mutters grimly, almost in defeat.

"Lilanei, come on – snap out of it! We're friends! Obviously you don't recognize us, but try and think! Fight whatever spell he has you under! This is your Master – we're two of the closest people in your life! Come on, remember!" Locke cries in desperation.

Nonetheless, his cries go unheard as Lilanei remains motionless and says nothing.

Lucio now stands from his throne and shakes his head as he smiles and says, "You know, jester. . . Not only do you put on a funny show, but a touching one, too! I'll tell you what. When you're being served at the main table tonight, I'll make sure my pet gets the best and most juiciest pieces."

"Your pet won't be serving anything," Locke says, turning back to Lucio with hatred in his eyes. "Lilanei's coming back home with us. You can try and stop us, but I promise I will kill you and break whatever hold you have over her. She's mine!"

"Ah. . . So the play is now a drama, is it? Very well then. “Put up your dukes,” as the commoners say. Give it your best shot! Meanwhile, I'll consider what sauce may taste best on your flesh. Hm. . . Orange or cherries?"

Akorrin now sheathes his sickle before reaching behind him and brandishing his Bastard Sword. Holding it forth, it gleams in the light of the room as his eyes now gleam with a glow of hatred and determination.

"Leave the boy out of this. . . I will bring you down myself. That is, if you are not too cowardly to face my sword!"

"Ah!" Lucio exclaims. "It seems we now have a double feature. First on the billing, The Great Lucio," he now raises his arm in the air as a show of his greatness, "versus the lowly, yet delicious Dragonborn named. . . Oh, I don't seem to know your name! But no matter. In any case, second on the billing, we have the most touching and dramatic encounter of all – the starstruck lovers – Locke and his Little Annie! Let the show begin!"