DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH
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Following Gannag’s instructions, Moorg was riding towards Khoill for several days now. He warily evaded all the
orcish guard posts around Zhinnaeg. And a few spots where wild creatures
lurked for unsuspecting prey. Chieftain of the wild orcs couldn’t stop warning him enough, about this
dangerous area, beseeching him to stay clear from it, as far away as possible.
Goblin took upon his advice. But for the first time, not because of fear.
Moorg just didn’t want to waste any more time. And any possible clash would
surely do that. It was of utmost importance to reach Khoill as soon as
possible. Without any more delays.
Moorg was by now completely obsessed
in his quest for more amulet parts. The medallion twisted his mind, and his
reasoning. Only thing that mattered was to obtain this magnificent power.
Goblin wasn’t even aware of his frequent memory lapses. He was slowly losing
touch with reality.
This part of Tanmar differed from
others he already visited. Everything seemed darker and ominous. Thick, knee
high carpet of fog, covered the ground for miles. Pungent stench of brimstone
spread all over the valley ahead of him, pinching and burning his nostrils.
Occasional gusts of cold air helped him breathe a little. Reaching the end of
this field, couldn’t come fast enough for Moorg. He was wondering what made
orcs settle near such an awful place.
Outlines of the town appeared in
the distance. Moorg could already recognize a couple of towers connected to the
wooden walls, and rows of rooftops in various shapes and sizes. It seemed they
were stretching in between two huge mountains, disappearing deeper into the
range. Part of the town must have been under the ground as well. And from what
goblin could see, Khoill was at least twice the size of his home, Nual-Deu.
Moorg knew orcs had spotted him, as
he could see them as well. But they were standing still, no one seemed alarmed
with his approach. No one bothered to warn him, to ask about his intentions. No
one ordered him to stop. He was sure they were looking at him. Moorg slowed
down his riding wolf into a walking pace. Gates were now just fifty yards away.
Orcs still did not move.
Enormous palisades looked hideous.
Made out of thick, tall logs, tapered at the top. They were covered in skeletal
remains and hides of various beasts and humanoid creatures. Shallow moat,
around the fortifications, was filled with decomposing carcasses and heaps of
body parts. Goblin couldn’t hide his disgust, watching at this gruesome sight.
Awful stench of decay was a bit too much for Moorg’s senses. He tried to keep
his dignity, as well as the content of his stomach.
Orc guards didn’t even take a
glance at Moorg, as he was passing through the wide opened gates. Something was
quite strange with this place. Even more so, once the goblin realized there is
no one on the streets. He couldn’t hear a single sound, usual for any kind of
town, let alone one as large as this one. Gannag assured him, there are tens
upon tens of thousands of orcs in here. But where were they? Only ones he saw
were those guards at the gates, but they did not care about him.
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