Role

Chapter 2

As it came closer, Grommak saw that it was a massive bull, like him, adorned
in polished armor, now spattered with warm blood, some of it still steaming
wispy tendrils into the chill breeze. It stopped before his pen. He saw the
strong arms flex and draw the polearm horizontally, leaning back for a
powerful swing. Grommak was dim, even for a minotaur, but even he could see
the end was coming.


He was ready, his miserable existence had conditioned him against hope and he
had none now.


With a grunt the adult minotaur set the weapon into motion. Grommak heard a
great screeching as the blade smashed into the bars of the pen, the blow of
the swing nearly upending the enclosure. More screeching. Grommak watched
with a dull gaze as the blade shore through the bars and toward him, and then
right overtop, the roof of the pen ripping away violently as the cleave
ended.


A clattering of the polearm sounded as it hit the cobblestone. Grommak, too
weak to move, watched on as two massive arms reached into the pen and scooped
up his little form, clutching the child to it's chest. Grommak remembered
feeling the heat of a furnace radiating off of the big bull, who was still
breathing heavily from the fight. For the first time that he had known it,
Grommak felt secure.