Chapter Text
Vaati strode into the great hollowed-out oak. Beady eyes watched him from above. One, just ahead and up the carved steps, was an greyed Keaton. Unlike the others, it wore a necklace of many bones around its neck. A small skull hung near its hip, the hilt of a dagger sticking out from between the rows of broken teeth.
Vaati smiled, and stirred the winds to project his voice. “Ah…I take it you are the leader of this band of vagabonds. You have no idea who you have trifled with! I am Vaati, Lord of the Winds, and ruler of this realm. And you have made a grave mistake in stealing from me.”
The old monster cackled. “Oh yes,” it said, “we know of Blowhard. Claims the winds, but doesn’t use them. Claims the land, but knows not the truth. Claims to be clever, but was outwitted.”
“What?” Vaati growled.
But the old monster was not yet finished. It bared its fangs. “Survival is the rule in this world. We take to live. We live to fight!” At that moment, the other Keatons descended, brandishing knifes and swords. A handful remained above, pelting the invited guests with rocks, nuts, and the occasional arrow.
Vaati snapped his hand up, and the three Keatons behind him smashed into the wall. His hand languidly opened and closed.
“I was going to do this the easy way…” That was a lie. “But I suppose some only learn respect in death.”