The Black Duke

He knew they were coming.

Feeling overconfident he had awaited their arrival at Pendragon Keep.
Surely they must know he cannot be defeated here, he could not be laid to rest at his birthplace.
Knowing only his own emotions and own feelings from when he was alive, he thought them be as confident he he himself was.

Such bravery in the hearts of men.
This will be a good day for Death.

Glorified and awe-inspiring he stood outside, gazing over the wide grasslands and saw them coming.

He gave them their moment, reciting his so-called crimes and then, as usual, challenged him to their authority.
Such was the pride of mortals; ascendancy.

And then it was his turn to challenge..

He should have known it then.
They all, in turn, accepted his challenge for mortal combat.
Honorous and to the death.

One by one they fell, all fought bravely, all fought to their death.

He should have recognized the diversion for what it was.
He could taste their resolve as they died..

Then, drifting through the floor, down to his crypt, and into his coffin, he knew. Too late.
Alterations had been made, powerful magics were used.
A Mythal, in his Keep, in his Crypt.
It had become his Tomb..