Hoops of Steel

"CRACK HIS WALL WITH HOOPS OF STEEL!" the giant thundered. One finger pointed forward

His thousand reptilian minion hissed and crackled, singing foul war-cries - then they charged.

The Nikolas held the line, his beard forking a thousand ways, glowing with an eerie light. "Never shall you defeat us, foul ratte-kinge!" he cried. "For my beard is mighty, and blessed by the LORD, who is named to us TMRK*. Our walls shall hold, even against your mightiest weapons!" His own followers cheered, each brandishing a croissant in hand.

Then came the ratte-kinge's minions - and there was no more time for speeches. There was only the struggle.

It was an epic sight that would have greeted any observer that day. The Nikolas's forces were well-matched with those of his foe, and each had difficulty gaining any way. The lizard-weapons were matched and neutralized with the power of the croissant, and for each of the Nikolas's soldiers that the ratte-king knocked aside, the Nikolas's beard claimed another victim. Each side unleashed secret weapons - huge hoops of steel**, wound about with gold and amber, thundered into the Nikolasian ranks. But they were swiftly countered, as terra-zeppelins burst from the earth, sourdough-cannons ringing out a thunder like that of a hundred bell-towers falling. In this manner, with heroism and folly intermixed, did the Nikolas and the Ratte-Kinge battle.

Perhaps inevitably, both Nikolas and Ratte-Kinge still stood at the battle's end. Terra-zeppelins lay sadly deflated upon the earth; hoops of steel were cracked and broken, covered with the crumbs of the croissants that shattered them. Only a few minions from each team still remained, less than two-score lizards or Mini-Nikolases still upon the field; they huddled behind their respective commanders, eyeing their counterparts warily.

The Nikolas's beard curled upwards slightly, giving out sharp sparks of electricity. "Need we continue this contest?" he asked sonorously. "From what I can see, it is over - and you lost! Your build points were wasted on poison-darts and 'hoops of steel' - ridiculous contraptions! My humble croissants defeated them with ease. Now my personal buffs will be more than enough to swat you from the field?"

"THEN WHY DO WE STILL TALK?" the giant Ratte-Kinge inquired. "HAD YOU SUCH POWER, YOU WOULD NOT HESITATE TO EXERCISE IT. I THINK YOU BLUFF - THOSE TERRA-ZEPPELINS COST YOU MORE THAN YOU ADMIT. YOU ARE VULNERABLE - I HAVE BUT TO KICK IN THE DOOR, AND THE WHOLE ROTTEN STRUCTURE WILL COME FALLING DOWN!"***

A terrible battle ensued.

"You have vanquished me!" the Nikolas lamented. "But wait - what's this - one last reservoir of strength?"

The Nikolas won.

"Hooray!" cheered his team-mates.

The Ratte-Kinge was sad.

Now he would never make it to finals!

*Like YHWH.
**These were actually not that secret.
***A misquote.

EDIT: Spelling fixed.