Thursday Two-Fer

Part One of the Two-Fer: a segment from Chapter 1 of the story. Enjoy!

The Scarlet Bastion in Stratholme

Far to the north, in the city of Stratholme, Falt Greyhaft rode toward the Scarlet Bastion, careful not to make too much noise: the Undead with whom the Crusade shared the dying stronghold were on the other side, but there was no sense in taking chances.
As he came upon Crusaders' Square, the central hub of Crusade forces in Stratholme, he slowed his horse to a stop. He was almost immediately challenged by a loud voice: "Declare yourself, stranger!"
"Peace, Captain Malor, it's just me."
"Greyhaft?"
"Aye, captain, it's Greyhaft."
"Prove it!"
"You owe me seven gold and forty-three copper for our game two weeks ago," Greyhaft called with a smile.
"I'm still not convinced," Malor answered with a smile.
"You smell like burnt rat tail!"
Greyhaft heard several chuckles coming from Malor and the guards with him, then: "Come forth, you pathetic Gilly dog!"
Smiling at the mock insult, Greyhaft spurred his mount forward into the square, soon coming to the fortifications where Malor and the other guardsmen stood watch, keeping an eye out in case the Undead attacked. He dismounted, then strode forward and grasped Malor in a firm handshake.
"Welcome back. Did you meet success?" Malor didn't know the particulars of Greyhaft's mission, but any success was good news.
"Aye, I believe I did. Is Lord Dathrohan waiting for me?"
Malor nodded. "He is. I believe he's at prayer in the throne room."
"Very well. When I get done meeting with him, you'd better have my money ready," Greyhaft said.
Malor scoffed. "It's taken me this long to pay you, what's another two weeks?"
Greyhaft laughed and entered the Bastion. The building's interior was a cool refreshment from the acrid smell of smoke outside. Some Crusaders had expressed their opinion that the fires which burned endlessly across the city were unnatural, kept alive by some magic force. Indeed, they had been burning since that terrible day years ago when the heir of Lordaeron had swept through the city, slaughtering every person, living or undead, that stood in his path. That day, Greyhaft mused, had changed the world forever.
He paused at the entrance to the Crimson Throne and peered through the doorway. Grand Crusader Dathrohan was on the far side of the wide room, kneeling before an ornate throne. Greyhaft waited for his leader to finish praying, and only stepped into the chamber when Dathrohan had risen from the floor. His footsteps turned the Grand Crusader around.
"Welcome back Greyhaft," Dathrohan said, seating himself on the throne. "I trust you met with success?"
"I did, milord. The thieves are willing to work with us."
A grim look crossed the Grand Crusader's visage, and for a brief moment a shadow seemed to darken his eyes.
"Perfect."

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Part Two of the Two-Fer: A Contest!!!

Some days ago, I e-mailed people asking if anyone was any good at drawing. Well, now here's your chance to prove it. Below is a very rudimentary idea of what Nikolas' swords look like (he has two and wields one in each hand). If you are interested in a prize (small, but still a prize), then submit your artist's rendition of the sword pictures below and send it to me. Rules? There aren't really any. You can draw the sword by itself, you can draw it from multiple angles (an artistic ability that REALLY eludes me), or you can draw it in the hands of some daring warrior or something like that. What does the winner get? Well, their picture will be proudly displayed on this blog for the internet world to see. There will also be another prize, like a gift card or lunch or ice cream or something. I'll get to that later. So the contest officially starts now, and will end sometime in the future!

Details of the sword for consideration- the blade is intentionally black. The handle is wrapped in brown or dark grey leather (your choice), and the pommel is a gryphon's claw (like an eagle). Draw the guard as you like, whether straight like below or all curvy-cool. Up to you.

Now.......Draw!!!