The snaggle-toothed, smiling executioner listened to him a moment, and
then, still smiling, thrust him through with a sword and stepped back,
jerking his weapon out of the victim as his body was released by his
captors to plummet lifelessly down the blood-spattered steps where it
eventually came to rest at the top of the heap of other victims.
There, others with spears were systematically thrusting through any who
showed any signs of remaining life.
Technically, the invaders were no longer blood-kin to their victims,
because they had murdered them all. This marvelous bit of genius had
also portended a direct line of succession that now led straight to
their leader, Conabar.
Now Conabar was chiefest blood-heir.
That was the object, that their leader might remain sole heir and
possessor of the Deed to the House of Rababull and all of it's holdings
and slaves.
He might even move a marker stone or two and get a jump start on his
new neighbors. Let them complain if they dared.
Conabar, a distant relation of Master Rababull, had sent word that he
would come when called to battle against the common foe, but craftily
delayed his coming and stayed home instead. Then he had sent out his
scouts, and made his long-awaited move when opportunity presented
itself upon the Master Rababull's untimely death.
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