Role

Chapter 2

The Bull pawed the ground and began his charge. As always, he exulted in the
power coursing through his limbs, the smoke curling out of his nostrils, his
sharp horn aimed surely at the heart of his horrified target. He felt the
blood rush through his limbs, up his torso, rage in his ears and finally,
blaze in his head seemingly setting the world alight. He sensed more than
felt, the distance closing between him and his gore and renewed fury coursed
through him. And so he charged. But wait.... The world seemed to him to
glimmer even more, as a lamp will flicker just before it dies out, and then a
darkness seemed to fall like a shroud. The mage was merely a few feet away,
and sure as dead, and yet.... The Bull found himself drawn up into the air
seemingly, his enormous momentum fading away and then the world that had been
rushing past began to slow down. He shook his head and snorted, and watched
as the magi's face faded from a look of horror to one of relief, and then,
the Bull sank down.

When he came to, he was tied by a solitary chain in the circle of rites of
his uptorn settlement. He tried to look around, and found none of his
kinsmen. The Seantryn Guard had suffered heavier losses, but then they had
more men. He looked up and saw the magi chief standing there, staring down at
him with contempt, surrounded by the survivors of the Guard. The Bull might
have been able to snap the chain, but he felt despair course through him. Not
for himself, but for the futile loss of life for a battle which had been
thrust upon them unecessarily, and all for what? Just because they wanted to
live free?

The magi chief stepped forward and looked the Bull in the eye and spoke.

"You, the chieftain of the clan, and just an impostor masquerading as a
minotaur. You all present here, do you see this magnificient speciment of a
horn? I will harvest it and present it myself, to the Empress, as a symbol of
our conquest here. And you, Bull, I will let live. For what Pride will you
have left, once your Horn is harvested? The symbol of your eminence, the
reason behind your becoming the chief, and... a reminder of your masquerade.
I can think of no greater punishment for you. Death would be mercy, compared
to the life you will lead. And this life, I grant you."

The magi chief put out his hand, and an axe was placed in it. Knowing little
of using such weaponry, he raised it high above his hand, looking down
contemptously at the kneeling Bull before him. Even as he raised his hands,
he knew he had opened himself up fully to the Bull, and he saw the flicker of
red torch the eyes of the Bull as he let out a snort. He swung his axe
quickly, hoping to complete his act, but he was already too late. The Bull
Chieftain, Dhaath, bounded to his feet in a single graceful leap and erupted
out from the circle towards the mage. The chain restraining him snapped into
two, the whiplash neatly decapiciating an unfortunate seantryn guard. The
Bull was also, however, a fraction of a second late, for just as he drove
himself into the magi, the magi brought down the axe with all the strength he
could muster. The axe neatly sliced through the Bull's horn, rendering it
into two, a whiff of smoke erupting from the tips which chipped outwards into
ominous curls. One side of his horn sliced