"Not to Bring Peace, but a Sword"

[nakarak]

Nakar Kor sat upon his throne, overlooking the land that he loved, which had been so torn asunder. Smoke rose on the horizon, and the drums of war were sounded. The infidel had come, the one who had so cleverly played the CPA, the one who had taken the Sword of Nakana. Ali Azakam. Nakar Kor clenched his fist, smashing it down upon the table before him, sending spiderweb cracks through the marble surface. If this rebel wanted Nakarak, he would claim it over his corpse.

Nakar Kor quickly composed a message to send to Sanar Lucian, ever his friend and ally. It read:

Sanar Lucian,

Ali Azakam comes, bearing the Sword of Nakana. Smoke rises from the sacrifices made in his name, thousands flock to him. I feel old, my friend. I cannot stand against him alone. He will be at the Great Temple in a day and a half, give or take a few hours. Come as quickly as you can, and bring the Blade of the Guardian. Perhaps with that symbol we can make the people doubt. If we can, it will be decided in combat, and we will have a chance. Be here as soon as you can. May the Gods watch over us all.

Nakar Kor

[Canton Rouge]

***Nakarakian countryside***

Ali Azakam stood and watched these 'infidels' praise him for all their worth. He figured it was because he held the Sword of Nakana. Remembering that, he then thought back to his aide who carried the false sword back in Nicassar who proudly died for this war they were in. Ali laughed, then thought he could use their army, or Danaka in the native language, to kick the Robengrad infidels out of his homeland. And why stop there, he thought. He could also then claim Zionir and practically make a new middle east in his own envision.

One of Ali's bodyguards ran up to him, and panted, "Ali, your litter awaits to take you to the Great Temple for the ceremony."

"Very well, consider yourself dismissed. Return to Nicassar and round up loyalists for our new war against the infidel nations," he replied, stepping into the lavish litter. With a quick yell, he ordered the lowly Duna that were in charge of the litter to move towards the Great Temple.

"The end begins now," Ali said to himself. "Soon, Nakar Kor will learn that he no longer carries authority here. Soon, this will be the fruit of my new empire."

[nakarak]

Nakar Kor paced his throne room impatiently, the sounds of Ali Azakam's approach growing louder. He could no longer wait for Sanar Lucian. He would have to win this battle himself. he was planning would be unprecedented. He would do what he had to do to save Nakarak.

Moving swiftly, Nakar Kor descended deep below the palace, down into the most ancient and heavily guarded chambers in the entire city. Eventually he came to a single door guarded by no less than three dozen Nakaran warriors. At his approach they stepped aside, looking at one another in confusion. Not since his coronation as Nakar had he entered this chamber, the legendary Hall of Prophecy. He opened the door, and entered.

The hall was vast beyond imagining, more than a hundred feet long and fifty wide, with the ceiling more than thrity feet above tall Nakar Kor's head. At the end of the hall sat his prize. A small pillar of stone, like a fountain, stood there, its center filled with bubbling lava. Just beneath the surface, he knew, lay the one object which could outrank even the Sword of Nakana. No mortal had ever been able to hold his hands under long enough to retrieve that which lay beneath the steaming surface. He took a deep breath, and positioned his hands over where he thought the object was. With a grim, determined face he plunged his hands into the lava.

Pain unimaginable seared his flesh in that instant they were beneath the surface. Unable to feel, he closed his hands and lifted them out, all in the space of a fraction of a second. He saw a sparkle of the red light briefly before he fell back in pain, crying out. He heard a dull thud as something hit the floor beside him, and then saw no more.

A few moments later he awoke. The first thing he looked at were his hands. The flesh was seared black, and in a few places the muscle could be seen beneath. He flexed his fingers and found it painful, but doable. He then looked up, and saw the guards of the chamber next to him, groveling in awe. Finally he looked on the ground beside him and saw the Crown of Dar.

It was made of purest diamond, crystal clear and flawless. It was a round circle with five triangular points evenly spaced around it. The entire crown was perfectly smooth, and the slight variations in shape and thickness showed that it had been carved and shined by no hand of mortal, but by the grace of the Gods and the slow work of the molten rock upon its surface over the ages. It had only ever been seen once, by Nakana himself, when a small hole in the fountain had caused the lava to drain off. Before he could retrieve it, the hole was filled by cooling lava, and the liquid rock covered it once more. It was said to be the crown of Nar himself, creator of the world and greatest of the Gods, and any mortal who could take it was said to be destined for godhood themself. Nakar Kor picked up the Crown. It was cool to the touch, despite its long imprisonment beneath the lava. With one hand he removed his crown of carven bone and placed the Crown of Dar upon his head. He spoke to those in the chamber, "I am Nakar Kor, chosen of Dar. Whom do you serve?" They spoke as one, "Nakar Kor." He left the hall, the three dozen warriors following him, the bone crown of the Nakar lying forgotten on the floor of the hall.

Exiting the palace, he saw that Ali Azakam sat before him on a royal litter, the Sword of Nakana in his hand. Hundreds of Nakaran warriors, workers, and priests stood with him, but the moment they saw Nakar Kor wearing the Crown of Dar, they fell to their knees in awe, dropping the litter in the process. Nakar Kor spoke.

"I am Nakar Kor, and I wear the Crown of Dar. I am the chosen of Dar himself, and when I die I shall become a god. Who are you to challenge me, mortal?" This last question was addressed at Azakam, who was picking himself up of the ground from the fallen chair. "I say speak, mortal, and so you shall speak."

[Canton Rouge]

Ali Azakam noticed the great Nakar Kor speaking at him, and to think that this man could challenge his rightful rule, considering he held the Sword of Nakana. Ali thought that if he was going to challenge him, then he would face him in a sword duel. But what nobody was aware of was he was a world reknown swordsman, capable of being effective with two swords as well as one.

"Why should I relinquish my control to you, a man who can not even keep control over his artifacts," he began. "If I had the heart right now, I would easily order the guards to kill you right now, and not worry about any challenges to the throne any longer. But instead, I'll actually be a gentleman for once. I challenge you to a swordfight to the death for control of Nakarak."

"Of course, you lack a sword. So this will be a laughable challenge that I surely will not lose. But just to make your death even more of a spectacle, behold this!" he said, and with his left hand, he reached into a sheath on his left side, and pulled out a silver long sword, with Frisian text engraved on it. "Do you like this sword? It is 'Wulfgang', belonging to whats his face, whoever rules that place called Canton Rouge."

"But, this is no average sword. Wulfgang goes back to the days of when Hanz I ruled the duchy of Bernstadt, 700 years back. It's a family heirloom, gifted to the oldest son of the family. Wheras it was easy to steal your blade, it was much harder to get this. I had to wait until no one was in their grandeur estate to send a man to steal it," he continued, still looking at Nakar Kor with a hint of rage.

"So, Nakar Kor, I shall enjoy feeding your corpse to the fiery depths when I finish with you," he ended. He was now waiting for the perfect moment to strike and remove this traitor to his empire.

[nakarak]

Nakar Kor held his right hand out beside him and said, "A sword." Instantly one of the guards thrust a blade into his hand. A fine blade, but nothing compared to the Sword of Nakana, and probably no better than this Wulfgang sword. But the Gods were with him, and that would be enough.

He spoke, "You come like a thief in the night and like a thief you shall be punished. You hold no claim to Nakarak. What did you do to claim your swords? You took them from the homes of their rightful masters. I took the Crown of Dar from the Bowl of Liquid Fire, and my hands show proof of my deed." He lifts his left hand in the air, and all can see the charred flesh. "If you want Nakarak, take it from my corpse." He steps back into a fighting stance, and all assembled back away, forming a large circle around the two combatants.

With a howl Nakar Kor charges forward, his blade dancing gracefully through the air to turn Wulfgang to the side, and his other arm grabbing Azakam's wrist, that which held the Sword of Nakana. The legendary blade swung down, but Nakar Kor ducked forward, the Crown of Dar catching the blade, its diamond surface stopping the ebony blade, though neither damaged the other. The Crown held firm on his head, its fit so tight and perfect that it was as though made for him. His hand squeezed Azakam's wrist, which even injured had the strength of thousands of years of breeding and decades of training coming together to form the ultimate warrior society, and the ultimate warrior within that society. Nakar Kor whispered to Azakam as they struggled against each other, "You have something that belongs to me." With a final burst of strength and the sound of crunching bones, Azakam released the Sword of Nakana. He snatched it with his now free hand and, tossing the original blade back to its owner, switched the Sword of Nakana to his right.

Cheers broke out from the crowd as Nakar Kor backed away, circling around the injured Azakam. He stopped directly across from him and spoke, "You have lost. The Sword is mine and the Crown is mine. You now have two choices before you. Surrender and be sacrificed, or fight and die. Either way, you will not leave Nakarak alive."

[Canton Rouge]

Ali Azakam, though wounded, could not help but laugh at Nakar Kor.

"I would rather die as a martyr, then be sacrificed to your dieties," he began, still keeping a grin. "For I know that when I die, I will go to Paradise and be eternally blessed. As for you, I hope that you will suffer from eternal agony."

"But even with the Sword of Nakana back in your grasp," he continued. "Nothing else matters for you. For you see, unless Al Gedi gets that sword back at the end of the week, your ally Canton Rouge will experience a true attack upon themselves. You know that EMP attack over Riefort? Well, that EMP attack Canton Rouge faces will disable power over the entire country! Ha ha! So enjoy victory while you can, infidel." He ended his death speech, and awaited the blade.

[nakarak]

Nakar Kor walks forward slowly. He says, "Your schemes will fail, Ali Azakam, and those of your Al Gedi terrorists. Nakarak shall crush Al Gedi into oblivion, and even the dust of their remains shall be burned." He lunged forward, his sword swinging in a blinding arc, to cleave through Azakam's uninjured wrist. The hand and the sword it held fell to the ground, and Nakar Kor kicked Azakam in the chest, sending him falling backwards to the ground.

"If you do not fear death, infidel, then I shall make you beg for it." He raised his hand, motioning two of his guards forward. "Take our friend to the Pit." The crowd murmered uneasily. The Pit was the most feared punishment in all of Nakarak, far worse than death. It was a deep, dark dungeon where the truly evil and blasphemous were taken to be punished for all of their mortal days. Within a dark chamber one was restrained, shackled hand and foot against the floor. In the chamber were released dozens of krishnar scorpions, whose venom caused blinding agony. Each day the prisoner was brought to the brink of death, and each night they were injected with the antidote to keep them alive for the next day's torture. People had been known to survive the Pits for decades, all the while praying for death. Nakar Kor spoke to Azakam, "No death for you, Azakam. Only unending pain." The guards then took him away.

Once he was gone, Nakar Kor composed a message to Canton Rouge. As he wrote, he fancied he could hear on the wind the distant sound of a scream. The message read.

Canton Rouge,

We have recovered the Sword of Nakana. Nakarak is restored, and Ali Azakam now endures a fate worse than death. I have arranged for the transport of ten thousand Nakaran warriors, along with supplies and weaponry, to help secure your country in the coming days. They are armed with firejelly and swords and have been instructed to take orders from the Canton Rouge high command. Use them as you see fit. If there is anything else Nakarak can do to help you in your crisis, you need but ask.

Nakar Kor
Chosen of Dar
Ruler of the Kingdom of Nakarak