I hope I did both of them justice. Well, I know I could never come close to doing Cacame justice, but I'll put it up to you all to judge.
"He's doing well for himself."
Iwo Lolamaficemi, the Barricaded Sever of Flaying, could not help but notice the statue. No-one could, of course; it was visible for miles in most directions. As they passed under the colossus' legs, Iwo began to recount some stories of the king they were visiting.
"It is said that once, he stood in front of an army of goblins, alone - and they fled at his very presence."
One of Iwo's courtiers, a dwarf, made a scoffing sound. "Stories! Ever since we left Érith Sat all you've ever bothered to tell us is how great this Cacame is. 'Immortal Onslaught' or no, he can't be all that." Said courtier looked back at the statue. "Though I'll admit he's got this place around his finger."
The other courtiers appeared somewhat scandalised at the criticism of their leader; they chattered amongst themselves in hushed, uneasy tones - Iwo was nobody to be trifled with, and had a very long list of conquests to his name - but he waved the matter off. "You shall see. It is high time we visited him - it would be, after all, the first time since he was raised to his current kingly dignity. I have no doubt that he shall grant us a warm welcome, after what I have done for him."
It was not long before they were brought before Cacame himself. The Immortal Onslaught cut no corners in displaying his power to any who wished to come before him. His throne was covered in spikes; it seemed that such would make comfort difficult, yet Cacame seemed to merge naturally with that austere and martial seat. The king himself was clad in full armour, his hammer close by his side and ready to strike at any foe which presented itself. About him was an unusual guard - dwarves, elves, and even a goblin, all pictures of unswerving loyalty and devotion to the elf on the throne. And that elf - Iwo could not know that he was given to boredom lately, for the figure before him sat perfectly straight and rigid, a fire burning within him which gave him strength and intent.
Silence reigned for a moment. Iwo, his guard and courtiers stopped before the throne; neither Cacame nor his guard moved an inch. Pictures of discipline, of those using their reputation to intimidate - as any good king should, Iwo thought. The tense moment dragged on, until, finally, a dwarf among those to the side spoke up.
"Ah! I am Dumat, mayor of Trustclasps. I wish to officially welcome you to our fortress, and to the presence of our gracious majesty, Cacame Awemedinade."
Iwo smiled and nodded to the mayor. "I thank you for your welcome. It is truly an honour to have an opportunity to visit these fabled halls." It was pure diplomacy, but not entirely baseless. He then turned to Cacame. "It is even more of an honour to be in the presence of the fabled King Cacame. Indeed, our visit is to pay tribute to you, and your many victories, and to-"
Cacame did not move, except so much as was necessary to speak - which he did in low, slow tones. "You, of all elves, have quite a lot of gall to pay such tribute."
Murmurs went about. Dumat seemed to shrink slightly, others glanced between the two kings, and Iwo's courtiers seemed on the verge of either shouting at Cacame or storming out. Iwo waved them down, however, and gave a nervous smile. "Your majesty speaks truth, perhaps. Though I doubt my bravery can compare with yours, of course - May we speak in private, king to king, with no ears to listen in?"
Cacame only stared - and, finally, with the slow inevitability of a landslide, nodded. As he stood, he made every effort to display his height; taking hold of the hammer at his side, and signalling his guard to continue holding their current positions, he led Iwo to a room to the side. All the dwarves knew better than to follow them; they either continued speaking amongst themselves in the throne room, or went about their business elsewhere.
As Cacame reached the middle of the room, and Iwo closed the door behind him, the former turned around with immense rapidity and stared Iwo directly in the eyes.
"You."
That one word was enough; behind it was the power of years of menace, years of training, years of waiting for the moment before them. Iwo had prepared for them as well - but not in all his thoughts had he expected this reaction. "Ah, Cacame. What has gotten to you? I did you a favour, didn-"
Iwo did not see Cacame move at first. Despite the moderate distance between them, Cacame closed it in the matter of a moment, reaching his hand out to Iwo's shirt and pulling him forward - all the time staring into his eyes, now only inches away from the glowing eyes of Cacame, surrounded by a reddened face. Cacame's grip was tight; the hand, no doubt, would gladly have grasped Iwo's throat rather than his shirt, and only barely avoided doing just that. Iwo swallowed, and listened to gravelly words: "You killed Amoya."
"O-o-of c-course I d-did. Sh-she was a killer. A d-d-danger. Sh-sh-she k-killed your w-wife, after all-"
If Cacame's face had been red before, now it turned to blood. "Yes. She killed my wife."
"And I k-killed her. I performed j-justice..."
"And I wanted revenge. She. Was. MINE."
Cacame half-threw Iwo away and turned around, and the visiting king wondered, as he dropped to the floor, how even that toss had not shattered him into a thousand pieces. Cacame's hands were both on his hammer now, and Iwo knew that survival depended upon careful words. "Your brave majesty, you who do not know defeat - have mercy upon my transgression - allow me to do what is needed to atone for it!"
Cacame did not face Iwo again. "I should leave you nothing more than a flattened stain upon the floor. But I have more important things to worry about. For now, you shall live, if you leave quickly. Do one more thing to provoke my wrath, and you shall die - as certainly as a fire sweeps through the forest."
From one elf to another, the threatening metaphor was clear. Iwo collected himself, straightened his clothes, and left immediately. Calling his courtiers to him, he led them outside the fort - and back beneath that statue's legs.
As they passed it, and could see the stern, stony face once more, Iwo shook his head. "I understand the eyes now, filled with magma. As magma never loses its heat, neither shall his rage."
Another courtier - a philosopher - spoke at this point. "I know his tale, and thus the reason for his hatred. One who seeks revenge becomes an unstoppable avatar of death until it is fulfilled. But his revenge was stolen from him - and thus, as it shall never be fulfilled, so shall his rage and strength never leave him."
"The Immortal Onslaught. Well named, for I doubt he shall ever stop." Iwo shook his head again. "The sooner we are away from him, I believe, the better."
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