The dining hall. Large, bleak and imposing are a few words one might consider upon walking through its grand doors. Here and there a peon could be seen cleaning the tables and floors within, dirtied from yesterdays feast. Blood stained the dining table, and rotting food lined the halls corners and floors. A few bodies, withered and sunken lie near the weathered food. A chilling reminder to the whims of Famine.<br/><br/>The horseman walked into the great hall with a spring in his step. Every other step was followed by a twirl of the large weapon in his hand and a skip in his stride. A smile splitting his face in two, the gleam in his teeth matched only by his bronze spectacle. The day had gone well. War making a fool of himself as always, but this time bringing Conquest along for the ride?<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Priceless.</span><br/><br/>These were not times to belittle siblings however. A cacophony of noise made itself known down the inner halls of his keep, and notably halted his merry stride. Bursting through the far doors, A bloodied mercenary came running towards the great horseman.<br/><br/>"My lord! They're attacking! Attacking the fortress!" Now emotion was generally something shown in reserve for the horseman. A smile here, a grimace there. Rarely would one see the reaction currently displayed.<br/><br/>Outright laughter. The chuckling mirth carried through the hall, causing all within to pause. The smell worsened quickly in the room. It was easily recognizable; excrement. The occupants were not paused in confusion, but rather fear. The laughter chilled the souls within, many shaking but none fleeing. Rooted in place all were, for none wanted to draw Famine's attention when his emotions ran high.<br/><br/>"Attacking you say? What with might I ask?" The laughter continued more physically, slapping his knees as he bent over. The room deathly silent of all but his cackling. "Pitchforks? Torches? Perhaps they're trying to stampede the skin and bone oxen I let them keep? My boy, I don't know how this could be funnier but I see you're alone. Where are the four others I sent with you?"<br/><br/>Eyes wide and knees shaking, a warm steaming puddle running down his leg. "Th- th- th- they ah, they all were, k..." the stuttering was intense, his body shaking violently as he lowered himself to the ground, making himself smaller as if to be a harder target. "killed m- my lord. They killed them, I b- b- barely g- got out."<br/><br/>"Killed?!" He shouted with a wide smile, and howled with laughter even stronger. "My hand picked mercenaries, Killed by malnourished peasants?!" The laughter grew quieter as he began gasping for air. Having seen enough some servants became brave, running from the hall, but this did not go unnoticed by the horseman in his mirth. Laughing still, his blunderbuss slammed into the marble tiled floor and a thundering boom cracked the ground. All stopped, with the exception of the newly formed crack. Snaking its way towards the runners, they screamed in panic, and tried to continue their retreat, but too late. Noxious gas spewed from the crevice beneath them and filled their lungs, their bodies shriveling, their screams fading. They all fell, crumpled to the ground, the last noise on their consciences the maddening laughter of Famine.<br/><br/>"Ah my boy, thank you. I haven't been able to let loose like that in months. Now then," Famine calmly walked to the still figure of the mercenary and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Where did these "rebels" kill my men?"<br/><br/>"One o- of the ou- ou- outer cities my lord." His trembling stopped, his legs limp and hanging, as if the lord of starvation was the only thing keeping him standing.<br/><br/>"Good good. I can take care of it personally then. As for you." His grip tightened. "It seems our main dish has gone and died." He waved his arm towards the two who fell to his gun. "Be a dear and take their place." A snap was all that was heard in the great dining hall, before the whistling and jolly steps returned, making their exit.