SEQUEL: (Discontinued)

Part 16

(A/N): Sorry I keep forgetting I'm writing this story 'cause I'm working on another one I got invested in. This story is going to be put on hold for a while until I get the motivation to finish it.

Bular's POV:
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Bular came to. There was darkness. He couldn't move. He was restrained. Some sort of white covering had been thrown over the top of him as if he was reduced to some inanimate object. That fleshbag King. How dare he think he is higher than the trolls?! Their kind had ruled for centuries before fleshbags came to their land. Bular's father would certainly have something to say about the matter. Although, now, he was doubting even that. Had his father truly not cared for him? The fleshbags had gotten him thinking about what would happen if his father never came for him. If his own tribe never came looking for him. Bular let out a roar into the darkness at the disgusting thought. He cursed himself for thinking in such a way. It had been their fault. Those idiot fleshbags and their pathetic excuse for a King.

There came footsteps. The princess? No. These footsteps had more weight to them. They were the footsteps of men. Men in armor. A gate in front of him opened to the outside as the covering was thrown off. Bular winced at the sudden source of sunlight. Thankfully, it did not reach him. Yet. It will reach you sooner or later. This is enemy territory. He layed eyes on the palace grounds. Soldiers stood guard a few feet away from him. Bular caught a glimpse of the people in the stands. So this is what it has come to. He was being put on display for the kingdom to see. A pathetic yet effective way of showing dominance. He wanted to break out. To kill them all. But he was unable to move, and the sun was up. The King had planned ahead. The infuriating fleshbag suddenly raised his voice to the crowd.

"To ready our hearts for the battle ahead, I shall host a private tournament! The winner shall stand at my side, and have the honor of striking down the monster, Bular, the Butcher!" The crowd cheered. The soldiers on each side of him pushed him forward. He tensed and pulled away as hard as he could as he was brought closer and closer to the sun. The light nearly reached his paws before he was stopped. Bular had enough. He let out a threatening roar. He could sense the fear in their pathetic little hearts. It amused him to feel the growing tension, but he didn't dare let a smirk slip onto his face.

"As your King," Arthur continued speaking to the crowd, "it is my duty to provide the best for our Kingdom. That is why the prize for this tournament shall also be the hand of my daughter," he gestured to the princess, "in marriage." Bular let out a low growl, earning strange looks from the men around him. He did not care. He could tell by the King's expression that he knew exactly how his daughter felt about the matter. That pissed him off even more. But he shouldn't care. He shouldn't pay any attention to Arthur or his daughter at all. The question that now begged him was why. Why was he feeling such conflicting emotions? And towards a fleshbag?! He should be disgusted by her sympathies. Yet, he wasn't. The princess turned her head in his direction. Something about her stare was different. Bular couldn't quite put his finger on it. She slipped away from the King's side before he could figure it out. Perhaps she is coming for me. He sensed her presence nearby. Yes. I will be freed in front of their miserable little kingdom. The perfect betrayal. The princess went past him. Of course. She would never do such a thing. You truly are getting desperate. Pathetic. Weak. Father would be displeased.

"Yeah!" A fleshbag child snapped him out of his thoughts. "I, noble King Arthur will strike down the terrible trolls!" Bular rolled his eyes. The fleshwhelp wielded a wooden sword, wearing a mask of their king.

"I will protect you, troll!" A female fleshwhelp yelled back. "I am Morgana! The evil witch! Shadow bolt! Shadow bolt!" Bular was tired, and this roleplay was strange and not very entertaining. He knew not what a 'shadow bolt' was, or who this Morgana figure was. If anything at all, he assumed it was fiction.

"You betray me, the noble king?!" The boy asked in a false confused tone. The two children played dangerously close to Bular. Had he not been restrained, he'd have pinned them down and eaten the two on the spot. But you are restrained. Helpless. How worthless.. "Die, sister, die!"

"That's enough!" Bular looked in the direction of Arthur, who commanded the children to cease their roleplay. How strange. He decided to think nothing of it, looking back at the fleshwhelps. Somewhat amused by theirs and the crowd's bewildered looks, he let out a roar to scare the whelps away. "I crave a true battle," the King continued. "Let the tournament continue." This was getting old. He wished to leave. He would do anything at this point to escape their very strange culture. Now he was trapped. Forced to watch fleshbag men spar, most too old for the princess. It disgusted Bular. The men either fought to kill him, or to mate with a little girl who wanted nothing to do with them.

"Many brave warriors representing Camelot today," an old man announced. Bular scoffed. Warriors? This should be at least a little interesting, considering he could kill them all with ease. They call themselves warriors? "Such as.... Squire Steve?" Bular had heard that name somewhere, but didn't care enough to pay much attention. There was a large man who kept his back turned against Bular. He took out his opponent with ease. Perhaps this one could be a worthy opponent.. He sincerely doubted that thought almost immediately. Surely the others are just weak. "Facing off against the Rose Knight is Sir Steve of Palchukia!" The 'Steve' fellow made his way out, boasting like a fool. He looked to be around the age of the princess, Bular noted. The boy continued to boast. This was nonsense. If Bular had been fighting against him in the tournament, he'd have killed him in seconds. If. If. You are a prisoner. Enough fantasies. What would you even do if you were given the chance? You are Pathetic.

"Combatants, prove thine honor! Begin!" As Steve began to run towards the large man, he was struck down. Bular nearly laughed. What are you doing? This is not funny. Not in the slightest. The boy whined for a 'pepperjack.' Bular rolled his eyes. The Steve boy continued to whine for the Pepperjack until he was dragged away. Strange, indeed. A mate, perhaps? It didn't matter. All that was left to do was wait until some form of tragedy had befallen the kingdom and set him free, or wait until his death let him escape to the void for the rest of eternity.