When he regained consciousness he was tied to the mast, along with his companions. The argonians, who he had made the mistake of trusting, were commencing the attack on the large, fancy ship. Ethigrim liked to think the best of people, so when the Argonian captain had reluctantly agreed to turn his back on his fellow pirates and take them to their destination as he had promised, Ethigrim had believed him.
But he had been betrayed. The lizard was a liar and a pirate and an unrepentant sinner.
And now, having tied up Ethigrim and his friends, sought to practice his sinful ways at the expense of innocent lives, as well as Llyjek. Although Ethigrim had little love for the elf, they were brothers in cause and had fought side by side, and Ethigrim would not see him die, least of all in a situation as unworthy as this.
The lizards didn’t pay any attention to Ethigrim – and why should they? He was tied up, was he not? He had no armour, no weapon, no shield. They thought him helpless.
Fools. While he had his faith, a true servant of Talos was never helpless. I’ll show them the error of their ways.
“So, either of you got some of that there magic?” Harbront asked.
“Magic? Oh yes. I think I’ve got just the thing.” Ethegrim responded.
His eyes filled with white light as he channelled the power of his god. His soul flared with holy energies, which spread through his veins. As it did, he grew. The ropes strained and the ship groaned as Blizzardbeard grew larger and larger.
Then, finally, with a mighty roar, he pushed his legs downwards, tearing the mast from the hull. The argonians scrambled to surround them, and his friends took up battle stances. Ethigrim tossed the mast to the side. The pirates had been given the chance to save themselves. They had squandered it for the promise of earthly trinkets, and now their lives were forfeit. Magic energy built up inside him again, and he let loose his battle cry:
“ALL SINNERS, FEAR THE WRATH OF TALOS!”
Chaos. Screams. Smoke.
Ethigrim was caught up in the heat of battle. His giant form, now made of iron, towered above the pirates, and none could – or dared – lay a hand on him. He noticed a group of argonians attempting to repair the ship.
“Oh no you don’t” he growled, starting towards them.
The deck gave way beneath Ethigrim, and he fell. Although the landing was rough, he felt no pain. In this moment He was the avatar of Talos, and destruction was all he knew. He recited another prayer as he rose to his feet again, and his body filled with holy energy yet again.
There would be no survivors this day.