Chapter 898 A Saying In The States

Stickyfingers looked over to Catshit.

Catshit nodded and looked over to Petty Officer Bob.

As for Doc... no one looked to that git.

Doc was never the first to speak.

Bob snarled like a blue-gill, scrawling up phlegm in his throat to be extra intimidating.

"We KNOW... wot you DID... knife-ear."

The elfie was good at fighting. Everyone knew that. However, no one in the crew could dodge the spit that Bob could hack up.

"Then you've come to seek recompense?" The elf frowned, "Come and take it."

OoOooOoh. If he was gonna keep talking like that, Doc was gonna wet himself.

"YOU'z defending her, ah? Ehehe..." Catshit sneered. "Da Vulkoori b*tch."

The elf raised his chin... exposing his soft, pink neck.

If he didn't play real careful... that was the first thing that was going to get cut.

"This king defends himself. With the stars above and the stones below as my witness, I had no part in Imperia's betrayal."

"M... Miss Mina-- she was poi-soned!" Doc tittered. "W-we couldn't fix her. Not even da Bosun c-could!!"

The elf grimaced... "I... said..."

"YOOO SAAAAID," Bob roared, "'at you F*CKING. LET IT. HAPPEN!!!"

...The elf pursed his lips, "And thus the sins of the daughter shall be paid by her heavenly father?"

His eyes began to glow... weird as hells... yellow like fresh piss in a bucket...

"Preposterous," He growled... "Thou hast chosen to cast blame instead of seeking truth."

Stickyfingers shut his eyes and sighed. He wanted to hold his tongue... but some things needed to be said.

"Da troof o' da mat'ter is... you disappointed da Bosun. You 'urt da Cap'n... an' by yer actions... an innocent, li'ul girl might not live ta see da mornin' sun."

The other three Coral Boys nodded in reverence.

The elf's expression hardened, his glowing piss-gaze drifting from boy to boy...

"Is this thy justice, then, Corallidae? Iron and steel? Art thy lives so immaterial?"

"'Ow about you draw yer OWN f*ckin' steel, ya noble CUNT?" Bob snorted. "Now dat... dat'll be da judge o' yer GUILT."

"Guilt?" The elfie didn't even flinch, "This King is free of guilt. Leave this place, Marines. My blades are drawn to condemn the wicked... not the foolish."

Petty Officer Bob took in a deep breath, "Dese... are our convictions. Wot say you?"

...In a single, smooth motion, the elf known as King finally drew his swords.

Fast as f*ck, da elfie was.

"WARRIORS! I hear you... If it is death in battle you seek, then THIS KING will HONOR it."

King crossed his arms in front of his chest.

The ground started quaking underneath him. There were cracks in the earth. Little pebbles and clumps of mud started to float.

The Bosun would say something like... 'That's real concernin'.'

"However, know this." The elf said, "In this age, I have fought alongside... and against... no warriors finer."

...

Bizdiil put the Ancient in his crossbow sights... and he pulled the trigger.

The bolt... did not find its mark.

His training failed him... which was to be expected.

Archery of all kinds bored him... and without the tiefling whore's enchantments, a shot at 100 yalms was impossible for him.

"Oy, what's 'is about, 'en?" The largest of the Corallidae snarled.

He was loud, his voice gnarled and unpleasant to Bizdiil's ears.

That creature's heavy axe defended the false king, deflecting the poisoned bolt that would have ended him.

It was an insult that the so-called 'king of the elves' would throw his lot in with Corallidae.

They were almost as bad as humans.

"L-l-l-looks like da elfy b-brought reinforcements, ehe~!" Said another of the beasts-- one of the smaller and weaker ones.

"Nay," The Ancient declared, arrogant and insufferable. "The road this King forever walks, he walks alone."

"You are NO king of ours!" Bizdiil shouted.

He stepped out of the foliage, tossing his crossbow to the side.

With a wave of his hand, dozens of his brothers and sisters emerged from their own hiding spots.

It was the will of the High Priestess... and she was the will of the Spider Crab tribe.

And thus, it fell to Bizdiil, the man she trusted most, to command.

Krysaos had done well to send his army of monsters to protect the false king.

But armed and armored as they were, they could not withstand the likes of Elven magics and sword arts.

The golden-eyed Ancient narrowed his eyes, "You dare."

"You were given a chance, 'your lordship'..." Bizdiil felt the corners of his lips stretch from his sneer, "yet YOU would not accept our gift-- a highborne Princess, her blood pure and untainted."

Imperia's seductive body was her only use. That she failed to win the Ancient over revealed her blatant incompetence.

The Ancient stepped forward, "Imperia is a child, Lieutenant Bizdiil-- a child you were tasked to guide and protect!"

"Imperia is a tool-- a *leash* offered by the Vulkoori High Priestess, herself," Bizdiil crossed his arms. "Coupling with her was the only way the Confederacy would trust you-- how could we otherwise?"

The Ancient looked to his monstrous peers.

It was a useless act.

Thinking was the privilege of greater beings. For dogs, there was only loyalty or betrayal.

"...Speak thy meaning, Bizdiil, Royal Protector of House Vulkoori?"

"You are the prophecy, Ancient," Bizdiil smirked. "As long as you exist, you will bring about the end of all suns. Thus, it falls to us, the noble warriors of the Spider Crab tribe to be the saviors of this--"

"SILENCE!!" The Ancient shouted. His eyes glowed a harsh gold and his mana made the ground tremble.

However, the elves and karkinii of the Spider Crab tribe held neither reference nor fear for an irreverent charlatan.

The golden-eyed Ancient may have called himself king...

...but he stood against dozens of veteran warriors and casters.

--one of which was also a Bladedancer.

The Ancient threw his head back, roaring with power.

"I. Am. Thy. HEAVENLY. KING!!" He screamed. "I was reborn in this Realm to SAVE the tribes of elves, men, and dwarves alike! I came down from the HEAVENS for you! ALL OF YOU!!!"

"Tch," Bizdiil scoffed. "Even if I were to believe such a tale, coming down was a mistake, your 'lordship.' You should have stayed on your high horse, drinking your god-piss and f*cking your god-whores. This Realm NO LONGER belongs to you or your godkin!"

The Ancient grit his teeth, "You dare mock the PROGENITOR of your people?!"

Bizdiil placed his hand on his enchanted blade... and he pointed a finger at the man who claimed to be King, "We would not dare offend a god. You, however... are but mortal."

The Ancient shut his eyes... His shoulders dropped as he exhaled.

He looked... tired... and old-- almost fitting for his supposed age.

It was weakness... in the face of power.

"I... alone..." The Ancient whispered, "am king."

"You must know where we are, Ancient," Bizdiil shrugged his shoulders... "and the bloody history of our lands."

He shook his head, an assured smile on his face... "We have a saying, here, in the Eastern States..."

Bizdiil drew his saber and lifted it skyward.

At his side, two full squads of elves aimed down the sights of their long rifles.

They wielded guns... modern technology developed by the artificers in Whitehearth and Archangel.

Even a god had to heed the song of lead and black powder.

Bizdiil pointed his saber forward.

"No more kings."