DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH
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Under the watchful guardsmen eyes,
Roshnak and Grodish were escorted into a rather large, bright hall, dug and
chiseled inside the mountain. The space was decorated with countless skulls of wild
creatures, and different types of weapons, resembling more a trophy room,
than the main royal chamber. But it clearly showed what orcs living in the
Zhinnaeg were all about. This was a town of fighters, warriors and hunters.
On a throne made out of bones,
claws and hides, sat Broolg. He was a strong, experienced orc, ruling the tribe
for over two decades. His broad shoulders and all around muscular body, was
indeed noteworthy. Orc wasn’t tall, but had this certain presence in him that
was immediately dwarfing everyone. King took a long look at the newcomers with
much intrigue, not knowing what to think of them. Who were they, to simply walk
into Zhinnaeg, unannounced? Where were they coming from? Why were they coming
here? Even more so because of the fact that one of them was a half-breed.
It was usual practice, to bow,
state your names and intentions, before anything else. But those guests
blatantly disregarded those practices, showing their disrespect. Intentional or
not, Broolg did not know, remaining calm, despite feeling irritated. And he
certainly deserved the respect. Seeing, he was still very young, when he
managed to defeat former king Nuarth, in the duel for a crown. Audacious feat,
but one which made his name well known, across the entire orcish homeland.
Beating Nuarth, the conqueror of Laorn, defender of Chaygor borders from
overrunning human forces, inevitably put a target on his back.
But, no matter how many challengers
set sights on the crown, Broolg defeated them all, and by doing so, he created
his own legacy. And now, with the experience vast as his, Broolg knew, this was
no ordinary visitation. He saw something in this strong, young half-orc.
Something that reminded him of his youthful days.
“Where are you coming from,
friends?” the orc king asked loudly “What brings you here?”
“Long time ago, our home was
Vur-Paan. But now, we live everywhere.” Roshnak decided to take a bow. “And now
that we saw your magnificent town, I think we are at the end of our journey.”
“Kind words stranger.” Broolg said
“Zhinnaeg is a welcoming city, for all that are willing to contribute in it
getting even stronger.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Then, I
guess you could help me with something bothering me for over a week now.”
shaman retorted “What exactly is Zhinnaeg’s king planning, in regards of ever
growing presence of human forces, at the border?”
“What presence?!” Broolg almost
jumped from his throne “Explain yourself, stranger.”
“It’s even worse than I thought.”
Roshnak cunningly smirked “Either you genuinely don’t know what is happening in
Tanmar, or you became oblivious to everything, being hidden behind these walls,
in comfort and safety.”
“Watch yourself orc, I will no
longer tolerate your insults.” Broolg puffed.
“These are certainly not
provocations, just concerned observations.” Roshnak calmly retorted.
“I am warning you, for the last
time.”
“Just as you warned the goblins the
other day, when humans decided to overrun the city of Nual-Deu!” Roshnak
yelled, for everyone to hear “Is king purposely avoiding my questions? Is the
king afraid?”
Broolg realized the challenge for
his crown was imminent, but at the same time, he felt intrigued with the
information this stranger shared. It was new to him. And if this information
turns out to be true, he couldn’t figure out why this orc is saying it, before
issuing the challenge.
“Why should I care for those goblin
holes?” Broolg asked.
“Because it might well be just the
beginning. It’s no secret, humans want these parts, just for themselves.”
Roshnak retorted “Their acquisitive nature, not so long ago, almost destroyed
the entire Chaygor, or have you forgotten that.”
“I don’t need a reminder. Many
homes were destroyed, many families killed.” Broolg turned somber for a bit,
looking at Grodish “Many half-breed bastards were born in those dark days.”
“Filthy words, not fitting for a
king.” Roshnak growled.
“As if you would know that,
stranger.” Broolg spit on the floor “Whoever you are?”
“I am Roshnak Baanar of Vur-Paan!
King of the northern tribes, guardian of the ice pass! Slayer of Badzanogh!” he
stood proudly “This is my grandson, Grodish. And he came here, to take your
crown.”
Broolg was stunned in silence for a
moment. Mere mention of shaman’s name was enough to incite fear in the hearts
of even the bravest ones. Legends of this shaman were part of Chaygor’s
folklore, for almost a century. But no one had heard about him for more than
ten years. He was presumed dead.
Broolg moved awkwardly in his
throne, swallowing the spit. He was careful in observing the orc. Without the
shadow of a doubt, that was him. Those horrific, thick scars. Those strange
markings on his shoulders and arms. There was no mistake, it was him. It was
Roshnak. But how come he was here? And why now? Accompanied by a half-orc, he
called his grandson.
“Your name is well known, here in
Zhinnaeg, shaman.” Broolg finally said “But you surely don’t think that would
be enough of a reason to place that half-breed under my crown.”
Grodish made a step forward, but
the shaman stopped him quickly. Challenge still wasn’t accepted. Any attack on
the king at this moment, would be characterized as dishonorable. Half-orc had
to remain patient, to obey the orcish laws. If he was to strike Broolg down
now, he would be disgraced and ashamed. Branded for life, and forced to live in
solitude, until the day he died.
“Is Broolg afraid to accept the
challenge?” Roshnak said loudly.
Face of the orcish king turned into
a large frown, out of anger. This was the last humiliation he was prepared to
allow. Only way to silence the shaman, and keep his reputation intact, was to
say yes. But Broolg wasn’t rushing into it. Experience taught him to be
cautious. And now, he had to be careful even more. Fear of shaman’s outside
intervention, could easily change the outcome of the duel, in half-orc’s favor.
“Half-breed can await for my arrival
in the hole.” Broolg said calmly, “Your dog, of a grandson, is the one who
should be afraid.”
In an instant, a couple of
guardsmen surrounded Grodish, making themselves clear to follow their lead.
Long and narrow corridor was heading down towards the decrepit stairway, for
about ten yards. Behind the steel doors, was a small, round arena, surrounded
with high, smooth walls. Above, and all around it, was a gallery. The stands
enclosed in iron bars, were built as a protection, both for the spectators and
participants alike.
Roshnak watched as half-orc entered
the arena, turning around to head for the stands. But was prevented from moving
further, as all of the sudden, several guardsmen blocked his path.
“Follow us please. We’ve been
instructed to show you to your quarters.” one of the orcs said “Under the
king’s orders, you are forbidden to attend the duel.”
Shaman expected such a move from
Broolg. But knew, he couldn’t leave the half-orc alone, in the arena. King was
doing everything, to make sure he would keep the upper hand. Perhaps even
cheat. But would he risk sinking that low? Was he so sure, no one would object,
if halfbreed should lose unfairly, in a duel. Perhaps, because of his mixed
blood, orcs would conveniently forget about the honor. And seeing how long Broolg’s
ruling was, ment this route wasn’t strange to him. Shaman had to act fast, well
knowing this was the moment he feared the most. But he had to take a risk,
there was nothing else left.
“Dear boy, if Broolg meant to stop
me, he should’ve sent his entire army this way.”
“I am just doing wh…”
Roshnak didn’t wait for the guard
to finish his thought, passing by him calmly. Orcs were a bit confused, but
followed the shaman further down the corridor.
“Please sir, come with us.” the
guard put his hand on Roshnak’s shoulder.
Shaman turned around quickly. In an
instant, out of his palms, appeared a small, black sphere. Its smooth surface
glowed under the flickering lights, from the torches. But the guard couldn’t
see his reflection on it, or anyone else’s, for that matter. Seemingly dark and
empty, the sphere felt like the end itself materialized in front of him.
The sphere suddenly expanded,
covering the soldiers in its murky mantle. They had no time to move. Seconds
later, Roshnak clapped his hands. The sphere vanished, taking the orcish guards
with it. Shaman looked around, there was no one else in the tunnel. It worked
better than he expected.
The stands around the oval arena
were almost filled. Roshnak found a lone spot, near the edge of the gallery.
Combat was a part of everyday life, for almost all orcish communities.
Sometimes it felt, they didn’t need a reason to fight. Whether it was some sort
of contest, pastime activity. or in this case, a duel for the crown. Orcs
enjoyed them all the same.
Grodish was standing in the middle
of the pit, calmly looking around. Orcs became louder with every passing
second, cursing him, insulting him. But the young warrior seemed unfazed. He
remained composed despite all of this, per Roshnak’s instructions. And once he
saw the shaman, standing in a far corner of the stands, it felt easier to
endure the abuse. Roshnak’s presence gave him strength and confidence.
Enraged by the lack of response,
orcs almost turned wild, hitting onto the cage, screaming and spitting. But all
of a sudden, a loud sound of several large drums, silenced them in an instant.
All eyes turned towards the large doors, on the other side of the arena. Loud
growl came from behind them. Seconds later, Broolg charged inside the fighting
pit, closely followed by his entourage of tribal elders. With his hands held
high, the king incited loud, welcoming cheers from the crowd. He circled around
the arena several times, showboating, as he mocked his opponent. And he was
quite good at it. Almost natural. Grodish still hadn’t moved, ignoring the
king, who was trying to ridicule his challenger, and this entire occasion.
Broolg even resorted to insulting half-orc’s origins. Every orc joined in, even
more than before. But Grodish again remained calm.
Slanted against the wall, Roshnak
was fixating on the young half-orc. Careful not to draw any attention, the
shaman formed a mental connection with Grodish. And by doing so, he took
control over his mind. Otherwise, half-orc wouldn’t be able to take all of
these insults. Knowing of his impulsive temperament, it wasn’t hard to see why.
Drumming abruptly stopped, as
Broolg waved his hand. Everyone bar two opponents left the arena, following the
king's signal. Several seconds of tense silence lasted, while the king removed
his crown, placing it on the ground, in the middle of the ring.
“Last chance to change your mind,
half-breed!” Broolg growled for everyone to hear “If not, you’ll lose much more
than your pride.”
“It is you, who is about to lose
everything, old man.” Grodish retorted calmly.
Broolg immediately lunged at
half-orc, angered and irritated by his words. King’s longsword was already high
in the air, aiming for his opponent's head. Standing still, Grodish was a sure
and easy target. Broolg could already see, his blade slicing into the half-orc.
Flawless, fast victory, just as many others from his past.
But the sword that defeated Nuarth,
missed this time. In the last possible moment, Grodish moved aside, gracefully
deflecting the blade, with his axe. His speed surprised Broolg, who stumbled a
few steps forward, following that vicious swing. And then, he noticed the
second axe. Half-orc was already in full attack, sweeping sideways. King had no
time to act, or move. In disbelief, he could only watch, as the axe sunk into his
forearm. Broolg screamed in anguish and despair, realizing the axe wasn’t
stopping. He took a step backwards, trying to comprehend that his arm is
missing from the elbow down. In shock, king was staring blankly, at the blood
drenched stump, unaware of the half-orc’s immediate second attack.
Three lightning fast strikes opened
deep wounds in Broolg’s chest. Cracked ribs pierced his lungs, filling it with
blood. Pain brought him back to reality. He desperately tried to react, but it
was already too late. Grodish moved around the king, swinging both of his axes
in a high arch. Using his body as a spring, half-orc plunged both of his
weapons in Broolg’s head. Under the extreme pressure of heavy, sharp, blades,
his skull cracked in several places, spraying the ground in a torrent of blood
and brain matter.
Loud sighs spread fast through the
arena’s stands, once orcs realized their king was falling dead onto the ground.
Grodish turned around, glancing at the stunned, silent crowd. Without a word,
he went for the center of the ring, picking the crown from the ground. He
looked at it for several seconds, before deciding to put it on his head, as if
it was the most casual thing he ever did. Couple of orcs growled in some sort
of protest, but stopped, as soon as they realized, everyone else was silent.
“If any of you think I am not
worthy of this crown, please feel free to step inside the arena!” Grodish
exclaimed, looking at the gallery.
Orcs were silent. In their surprise
and shock, they didn’t even move. Sitting and staring at the body of their now
former king, they seemed actually afraid. Half-orc’s dominant victory shut
everyone’s mouth. He was their king now, and no one could take that away from
him.
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