The shivering cyclops was currently wondering where it all went wrong. What he had set out to do seemed so simple, so easy. He was going to swagger up to Nimral and bait the chief to attack him, then call upon his alliance with the monoya to aid in taking down the remaining tribes. He didn't think that it would be any trouble at all...the gheckla were simply a pushover when it came to the ones in charge.
His mind returned back to that accursed day like it had many times before. Recollecting each and every detail, he reflected on where it all went wrong. That old nimm was a lot more strong than Blackbeard thought he'd be...sure, the man was massive, but only for his size. They were in completely different weight classes—how could that shrimp evenly trade blows with him? The fight wasn't anything like he expected, his approach was wrong from the start.
If it was only that it the situation would be more regrettable than anything. He wouldn't have been reduced to the shell of a cyclops he was today. Blackbeard would've just retreated with his intact dignity in tow, picking another approach to conquering Nimral and by extension, the whole continent. No, his better defeat was caused by HIM.
That savage looking midget leapt right up to his right-hand woman and just...burned her to death! Just like that! The morale of all of his people was shot dead at a rate much faster than how long it took him to convince them to even fight against Nimrod in the first place! His personnel had fled and he had to follow after them, or maybe it would've been the end of him right there.
Or at least that was what he told himself...the truth was he found the feral shrimp quite frightening as well. No normal monster just burns someone to death with a smile upon their face— most kill each other for survival if anything. Greed, conquest, desire, there were all sorts of reasons why they killed each other. Enjoyment wasn't usually one of them. And if it was and he had just missed the memo he was honestly fine with never being updated, thank you very much.
And then the last event that drove the nail in the coffin was that scary armored half-pint. Valentine, or whatever that...*thing* called itself kidnapped half of his cyclopses...but not before cutting off their legs! It was over the top in the sheer cruelty of it all. Their height was what a cyclops held most dear, after all.
And that's why Blackbeard had holed himself down in his room. He and all the other cyclops he had brought with him were suffering from intense trauma, and none of their conditions seemed to be improving. The world that was supposed to be easy pickings for the tall and mighty cyclopses were full of all sorts intimidating creatures that called themselves people. Blackbeard refused to let those animals step all over him until he finally breathed his last, he couldn't!
A frenzied knocking was carried into the dark room, the sound coming from his door being pounded on. Blackbeard wanted to ignore it, but knew deep down that he couldn't. Although he was sniveling, cowardly cyclops, he was still their chief. Still, that didn't mean he had to get up and answer the door in person, did it?
"WHAT IS IT? I TOLD YOU NOT TO BOTHER ME IF IT WASN'T IMPORTANT, DIDN'T I?" Blackbeard fiercely bellowed, trying to make himself as strong and therefore awe inspiring as he could. He was pretty impressed with his acting, he could almost believe that his yells really showed off his courage and power. He was not a great actor at all, and the only person he had really fooled was himself.
"It is important, tribe leader! The snow...has cleared up!" A panicking voice answered Blackbeard's clumsy attempt at intimidation. Completely ignoring all the words Blackbeard had yelled except "wasn't important", the anxious cyclops hurriedly delivered the piece of news it had just received.
"ARE YE TRYING TO MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME? THE SNOW HASN'T LET UP IN FIVE YEARS!" And a long 5 years it had been. Their coffers that used to be chock full of food that could hold them through the long winters that characterized their region were almost empty. It was what had spurred Blackbeard's ambitions in the first place. Although he could've just taken over one tribe and secure his people's safety through the prolonged winter, his greed had gotten the better of him at the end of the day. If he could've turned back time and tried something else, he would do it in a heartbeat. It's a shame Nightmare didn't work like that. The only second chance it offered was revival, and revival didn't fill your stomach.
"It's true tribe leader! The snow hasn't stopped in anywhere but a couple of miles away from our gates! We think it's an enemy invasion!"
The cyclops had no idea how close it was to complete accuracy. If anything, it was only too early in it's judgement.
—-
A bit earlier.
Alban felt good as new as he sat up and stretched his stiff arms. His whole body felt rigid, but the patience had paid off. His frame was filled with renewed power, his physique robust and full of verve.
"Ah, he's up now! Does that mean we can get going Lat?"
"Sure...if he agrees to it. How 'bout it Alban, are ya willing to help my people out again?"
Alban responded by nodding and calling out his flame before activating his wild aura. The agitated liquid responded to his commands by speeding their circulation, briskly traversing through every touchable corner of his body. The intense heat his body generated was spread through his aura, warming up the ghecklas considerably.
After waiting for the ghecklas to get completely comfortable in his presence, or as comfortable as people who didn't know Alban could be, Alban imbued mana into his eyes and stared out into the horizon. His astute eyes caught sight of Hettur, noting how large the town was and how far it was from his group's current position. Considering that the place looked way too big for monoya and he had been to every other tribe, he quickly concluded that the town belonged to the cyclopses.
Reminiscing fondly, he now knew his destination. He would pay those pseudo giants a nice little visit and have a chat with their leader. The gheckla huddled a bit closer to Alban, completely disregarding the dangerous vibes the savage looking youth gave off. Being a little nervous was a lot better than losing their one and only life, after all.
The procession of gheckla strode along with Alban right up to the gates of Hettur. Their eyes were met by hulking blue cyclopses, the giants in question peering back with curiosity reflected in their great big eyes. When the group of midgets finally stopped at the gate, the cyclopses guffawed at the pitiful group of puny monsters. They had no fancy clothes, no fancy weapons, and no strong looking people. The hungry cyclopses eyed the group intensely, wondering if a few of them would be enough to fill their growling stomach.