Storm of the Father
He squirmed in the mud, gripping the bloodied stub where his right arm used to be.
His sword was kicked out of reach.
His legs trembled to his agony as he lay beneath the weight of the storm–thunder from the heavens shook the earth.
“I be-beg of you! Have m-mercy!” he gasped.
The attacker approached and towered over him; the rain pelted down on the black plates of his armor.
“Mercy?” the attacker began. “Yes, I will grant you mercy.”
He raised his axe.
“The same mercy you gave my daughter when she begged for her life!”
