Alternia Comics

Under a vaulted ceiling, along floors of amber-hued wood, down halls of polished gray stone walked the King in his Castle. He heard echoing in his halls the laughter of his People. He saw in his mind the contented smiles of his Family. He felt in his heart the grateful spirit of his Wife. He knew in his soul that he had lived as a good man should. From as far as the power of his law could reach to his innermost being, King Meddias Merkandore had done as well as any man alive in doing his duty to his subjects, his family, and himself. He had lived his life in an effort to bring joy to others, and in so doing had himself found joy.
That is why, when he saw the assassins enter through the window of the hallway in his personal chambers, his only regret was that he might never bring joy to anyone again.
Two, no three there ... and footsteps behind him. A good King who had lived in dangerous times, Meddias drew the magnificent broadsword that never left his side, took it in both hands, and bid them come.
One fell from the mighty King's first stroke, the blocking weapon shattered by the force of the blow. A Birean blade, Meddias noted, and wondered if these assassins in black meant to try and break the recent peace he had finally achieved with the savage nation to the southwest. But time enough for that later ... if he was to unravel the mystery of this attack, he would first have to live through it.
He became a whirlwind of flying steel, snatching a candleabra from a table and using it in his left hand to fend off the attackers on one side so he could strike at those on the other with his sword. He managed to kill another, but he was still facing three of them when the door at the end of the hallway opposite the window opened.
And there stood his youngest child, holding her stuffed gold dragon tightly to her chest ... his daughter Melloa ...
Princess and King locked eyes as father and daughter. Fear for his child, only ten years old this last winter, swelled in Meddias' mind as the assassin between him and Melloa turned from the armed warrior to the helpless girl. Meddias swung his blade and missed his foe's turned back by mere inches. Letting lose a ferocious battle cry, the King dropped the battered candleabra, took his sword in both hands again, and hurled it in a shining streak down the torch-lit hallway. It plunged right through the assassin's chest. He fell in a bloody heap at the feet of the petrified Melloa, whose face and clothes were suddenly spattered with the blood of her father's would-be killer.
And then Meddias felt the sharp blades of those behind him. One chopped down into his shoulder, dropping the mighty King to his knees. Another pierced his lower back and came out through his abdomen. Meddias fell to the floor, and the world swirled around him.
With his dying gaze, Meddias looked upon the stark, unbelieving terror in Melloa's eyes, the silent mask of horror that was her face. Then he saw a figure appear behind her, and for a moment his hope was restored, for it was his cousin, the Duke Erwal. Erwal set his hands upon his niece and quickly pulled her out of the room, closing the door after her ...
... but the Duke remained.
Confused, dying, but determined to see what would happen, Meddias watched with fading eyesight as his cousin waved to those behind him. He heard their padded footsteps, echoing strangely as though far away, move away from him and then fade altogether. Then, with a growing horror in his mind, Meddias looked up into Erwal's smiling face. Fear for his family and country were reflected back at him in his cousin's malignant countenance. The thousand things this man whom he had trusted could do to all he loved, all he had fought and bled and now died protecting, flashed before his eyes ... all his fears came true in that terrible moment before the visage disappeared, and King Meddias slipped into the final darkness ...
... where the terror followed.