DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH
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Under the dim lights of a small campfire, Moorg was persistently trying to comprehend the secrets of the amulet.
Lying reclined on his wolf’s warm body, he was examining every bit of it.
Earlier, he noticed a several small slots appeared on it. All empty, except for
one, which was now filled with that part, he stumbled upon in the village of
the wild orcs. Goblin tried to remove it, but it was permanently fused with the
amulet.
He noticed a small engraved
symbol of something quite similar to the mouth. It lit every time he would hear
that voice. But no matter how hard he tried, the goblin could not understand
it. Medallion was still for some time now, but Moorg was too impatient in his
curiosity. He wished the voice would talk to him constantly, that was a sure
way to learn the language. True power of the amulet was yet to be unlocked, and
Moorg wanted it all. But the first step was to become able to communicate with it.
Goblin tossed a couple of logs onto
the fire, lighting the entire den in an instant. Wolf budged in enjoyment, but
remained asleep. Moorg smiled, looking at it. Tired animal deserved to rest. A
few sips of the ale felt good on the goblin's parched throat, before he
returned to inspecting the amulet. There had to be a way to activate it. So
far, it seemed that medallion acted mostly on its own behalf. Coming to aid
whenever he needed. Saving his life on a few of those occasions. But how would
it know? Unless the goblin had the connection with the amulet, he didn’t even
know it existed.
Moorg tried to remember what were
his doings right before the medallion would activate. What were his thoughts?
His feelings. Sometimes it was out of fear. Sometimes, when he was excited,
when the adrenaline rush kicked in. It was always followed with a few seconds
of memory loss. Goblin’s mind would go blank, once the waves of energy begin
rushing through his body. And it was at that moment, the amulet would come to
life. Granting him the strength and the power.
Moorg almost jumped out of
excitement, surely he was right. He had to be. He was on the track of finding a
way of making contact with the medallion. Goblin closed his eyes, slowing the
breathing, until it became steady and flat. He remembered being a boy, and all
of the lessons his father taught him. It certainly came to aid now, as he
managed to empty his mind. Instantly, Moorg felt the tingling sensation
spreading through his every nerve. Medallion was awake.
Silent, incomprehensible voice, at
first sounded as if it was coming from a distance. Somewhat eerie, almost
frightening, but Moorg was now ready for it. There was no way he was going to
let it slip, without learning at least something from the amulet. Goblin
remained extremely concentrated, to the job ahead. New failure was
unacceptable, he was resolute to solve the mystery.
The voice was becoming louder, with
every passing second. Moorg realized it was the same message, the same
sentence, repeating over and over again. Still, he couldn’t understand the
meaning. Voice was now so close. It felt as if the words were coming from
within his mind, stabbing him like a dozen tiny daggers. Louder, bit angry now,
the voice became impatient. Moorg was in pain, but not giving up.
“I don’t understand.” goblin
growled “Speak in my tongue, damn you.”
“Help me master.” Eerie whispers
petrified Moorg, but his wish was finally granted.
“Help you with what?” the goblin
had to think fast “Who are you? What are you?”
“But it’s me master, why are you
not…” voice seemed confused “You are not master Toorg.”
“I am Moorg, his son.” the goblin
was quick to say “Before he died, my father entrusted me with the medallion,
with you.”
“Yes, I sense master Toorg in you.”
amulet said after a couple of seconds “Master Moorg, please help me.”
“How? With what?” goblin asked “I
don’t know what to do. It seems we are both in need of help.”
Medallion wasn’t answering.
Suspense was painful, almost as much as the transference of magical energy.
Moorg was able to maintain the flow, but he knew there had to be a limitation
to it. He couldn’t hope to last forever. Besides, he was already getting tired.
His muscles were burning, he was feeling stiff and numb. Goblin was afraid to
move, fearful to disrupt the connection.
“Save me, master. Come and save
me.” the silent voice disappeared in the distance.
Moorg could hear a clear echo.
Sound was spreading, as if it came from the depths of some canyon. Surely it
was a clue, just like one from his father’s vision. He needed confirmation.
“Where are you?” Moorg yelled.
“In a dark, deep hole.” amulet
said painfully “Among the orcs, and death…The dead surrounds me.”
Moorg couldn’t endure the strain
any more. Connection with the medallion broke, as he fell exhausted on his
back. Goblin was satisfied with the progress, but at the same time worried
because of it. It was quite strange, hearing the amulet begging for help,
sounding like a person. Strange, and yet not surprising at all, considering the
amount of power surrounding it. Medallion was yearning to become the whole
again, and Moorg was there to fulfill its wish. Tired, the goblin sat closer to
the fire. Before he could head back to the orcish village, Moorg had to take a
rest.
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