DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH
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Moorg
nervously walked around his quarters for over fifteen minutes. Somber in his
thoughts about the vision and those strange assignments his father’s
spirit revealed to him. They were undoubtedly a series of tasks designed to help him prove
his worth. Prove he deserves to wield the power of the amulet. But before he
could venture that path, he had to clear all of the doubts, regarding his
prisoners. Although medallion sent him towards that orc shaman, it was still
unclear what, if any, is his part in all of this. There was no clear mention of
an orc in the vision. Goblin king wondered, if he perhaps made a mistake,
bringing this dangerous distraction so close to home.
Loud steps
from the hallway, put an end to his long lasting pondering. At least for now.
Short, quiet knock on the door, was followed by a moment of hesitation, before
the doors opened. Several goblins, elite king’s guards, carried still tied
orcish prisoners inside. Pointing his finger, Moorg showed where to put them,
after which, he immediately waved the soldiers away.
“Where do
you come from?” the goblin asked Roshnak, once they were alone “Why are you
here, in Tanmar?”
“That’s
not your concern, you rat!” Grodish shouted in anger.
“Control
your mut, orc!” Moorg laughed “Otherwise, I’ll cut his tongue!”
“Although
the boy often speaks, before he has the time to think, in this instance, he
gave you the correct answer.” Roshnak was calm “I don’t know your intentions,
or the reason you are holding us imprisoned. And I certainly don’t need to
explain myself to you.”
“Oh
but you will, orc.” Moorg said silently, involuntarily touching the medallion
“Answer my questions, or you’ll never leave this place.”
“All
right.” After some consideration the orc shaman said “Ask away.”
Goblin
king let a sly smile, glad he compelled the orc to talk. With his head high,
holding his hands behind the back, he started walking back and forth, all over
the room.
“What do
you know about the orcish towns to the north?”
“Not
much.” Roshnak lied a bit, surprised by this question.
He was
completely confused, not knowing what to think of this goblin. Why the sudden
interest in those towns? What did they stumble upon? Unbelievable to think,
Moorg would dare to plan anything against them. But if he was, if they were
somehow in danger, he felt obliged to warn them. Providing, they managed to
free themselves.
“Pity.”
Moorg said, acting disappointed, seeing through the shaman’s lie “But that was
expected, since you are obviously from Chaygor. In that case, perhaps you could
tell me more about the frozen valley.”
Roshnak’s
eyes squinted. Goblin’s questions weren’t random at all, and certainly not
coincidental. He was tracking something. Something, perhaps connected with that
strange amulet. And whatever that was, orc shaman was now determined, to find
out.
“It is a
dangerous, and cold place, which orcs usually avoid.” Roshnak said “Why are you
interested in it?”
“Just
wanting to learn about all of the different places.” Moorg answered “Someday, I
might decide to visit the…”
Sudden,
loud noise just in front of his quarters, interrupted him in mid sentence. The
goblin guard rushed into his king’s quarters, without knocking. He was bleeding
out of deep, ugly gash on his forehead.
“My king!
My king! We are under attack!” goblin squealed “Come my king, the humans are
attacking us!”
Moorg
jumped towards the short corridor, from where he could clearly hear the sounds
of an ongoing battle. Right there, only several yards away from where he was,
in the king’s hall, he saw an army of humans. They were about to make their way
inside. Goblins had no chance of stopping them. Moorg knew that in an instant.
Hastily, he returned to his chambers, locking the door behind him. Leaving the
goblin guard confused, in the hallway.
It took
him but a minute to put on his fighting gear, and pick all of his weapons. Out
of the wooden chest, he also took several small, leather bags, filled with all
sorts of coins, gems and jewelry. From the adjacent drawer, he took a couple of
weathered scrolls and a small booklet with black, leather covers. Only then, he
was ready to leave. Behind the large bear hide, hanging on the wall, appeared a
small, hidden passageway. Moorg moved three stone levers in a precise sequence
pattern, thus opening the doors.
“I’m
afraid it is time for me to leave. If by any chance we meet again, remember I
gave you a chance to escape.” Moorg said, climbing into the opening “Your
equipment is safely stored in that chest, by the door. Goodbye and good luck.”
“Wait!”
Grodish yelled after the goblin disappeared in the hole “What about these damn
ropes?”
“Oh yes, I
almost forgot about them.” the answer came from behind the wall, as the hidden
doors closed behind “Liberate!”
In an
instant, the magical ropes vanished from the prisoner’s hands and legs. Orcs
fell from the beams, to which they were tied, not a second ago. The goblin
wasn’t lying, all of their equipment and weapons were stored in said chest. The
sounds of the battle were becoming ever so closer, and louder, but the old orc
seemed unfazed by it. He wasn’t in a hurry, putting everything he owned in a
precise order. To make sure he won’t forget a thing.
His calm
demeanor sometimes drove Grodish crazy, as he wished to check upon the fight,
as soon as possible. He could perhaps even join in, if the opportunity appears.
But it took almost three full minutes before the shaman was ready to leave. The
last thing Roshnak did, before they left the room, was grabbing the torn,
wrinkled tunic, the goblin king had left behind. Only then was he ready to go.
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