Though it is well known that an unusually large number of monsters were killed last year in Skara Brae, few native Sosarians understand the magnitude of what happened. Some say that high population and a bad hunting season for the orcs in the mountains north of the city forced them to come down to the valleys and look for new food sources. Others say that an infusion of elementals and ettins forced the orcs out of the mountains. Very few dare to say aloud that they believe the monsters were working together, or that they were under an intelligent warlord who wished to destroy the city. But from that small number of people who have the courage to say such things, new myths and legends are just beginning to surface throughout Britannia as people pass on tales of the guild which came to the aid of that city, and of the epic battle which took place.
I have done my best to uncover as much of the tale as possible, in an effort to clarify exactly what happened, and to eradicate any illusions that the destruction of Yew last year was coincidental to the invasion of Skara Brae. I have heard many ignorant Sosarians spouting garbage about "natural disasters" or "the will of the gods." Although I could find only a few references to Yew, they were always tied directly to the army which attacked Skara. If anyone has any primary sources about the destruction of Yew (I found nothing which covered the actual attack), I will be glad to review them and publish them.
The account which follows here begins the tale, covering the movements of the orcish army itself. Included are several references to individuals who first detected the horde. Most of this account comes from primary sources written first-hand by the person(s) involved. Some narrations were passed on by word of mouth. At least one particularly descriptive, gruesome tale was discovered in captured parchments, probably written by a high orc lord who witnessed it. Suffice it to say that it made my skin crawl when I read it. Of note is the tale of the demise of Ranger Geargan, whose dark heritage comes back to haunt him, in order to fulfill a pact sealed by one of his ancestors. In all cases, the documents were preserved by Lady Kianne, for whom I am deeply grateful. As always, I have tried to fix any glaring errors of grammar, tense, and structure in favor of clarity.
This is the beginning of the epic battle of Skara Brae.
Until we meet again, at the Inn of the Last Home.
-- Cleric Theobald
Keeper of the White Stoll, Holy Order of Stars
Guild Scribe, Lords of Krynn
***
The orcish hordes had moved on from Yew, and the daemon Krekk had the orcish mages hide their tracks with magic so even the keenest tracker could not pick up their trail. Sargasian was not pleased with the result and placed his own spell of invisibility over the encampment as well as a spell of warding, not that he was worried if a strong force came against them. He would relish it; his sole enjoyment came from spilling blood, and not even the slaughter of innocents in Yew could quell his bloodlust even though he had bathed in gore that day.
Krekk served his purposes for now. He always aligned himself with those who were as malignantly evil as himself. The spell he cast on the moongates brought a smile to his face. It had also made the daemon bellow with laughter. Ahh, the irony, he thought, turning Britannia's source of travel into a charnel pit. His queen surely did smile upon him.
Putting these thoughts behind him, he made his way through the orc camp and sat beside the daemon and smiled.
"Stop smiling at me you abomination," Krekk bellowed, "I am sick of that twisted smirk!"
Sargasian only laughed. He enjoyed making the daemon feel uneasy. "What now, great Krekk? Surely an army this big has another agenda besides wholesale slaughter," he inquired.
The daemon sighed and prepared to respond. Krekk looked down at Sargasian, stared for a little while with hatred emanating from his eyes. "We move in the morn'; we are swinging through the mountain pass to the region of the Clan Morkana orcs. I mean to pick up some more fodder before I move on down the coast." Krekk smiled as his evil plans tumbled through his mind. He rubbed his hands together in excitement and started flexing his wings. His voice raised and his mighty bellow shook the walls of the nearby mountains. "We strike at the heart of the rangers of this land, where they go to train and provision themselves. The ranger town will fall next and it will fall hard, the island town called Skara Brae will become our next base of operations. Break camp!" he roared, "We march for the mountain pass now!" The camp broke and within an hour of his orders a thousand orcs, thirty-two ettins, fourteen ogres, and an ogre lord began their march to Shame.
Sargasian sat amongst the chaos of the moving army. He enjoyed being a menace even to those with whom he aligned himself. He had even killed a few of Krekk's messengers just to be a nuisance, and because he knew Krekk wasn't sure what he was yet, many a time he had heard Krekk curse his name; but he knew the daemon needed someone of pure menace such as he. Sargasian even felt the disturbance in the magical field of warding he had cast on the outskirts of the camp, a smile revealed his razor-sharp teeth and his red eyes gleamed. "Not of my concern," he thought to himself. Let any one foolish enough come; fresh blood was always welcome in his chalice. He called an ettin over and climbed onto its shoulders and sat between its two heads. "Ugh, why sit on me?" one head thundered. "He sit on me too, dung heap," the other head replied. Sargasian enjoyed riding on ettins; their stupidity was humorous. No better way to travel, he laughed to himself.
The army arrived at Shame and made camp. Orcish lords went out to the tribes to recruit. Sargasian was growing bored, he had already made the ettin he was riding kill itself when he started a dispute between both of its heads on who was the strongest. The argument ended when the ettin strangled itself to death, neither head prepared to submit to the other. Krekk had berated him and even cast a fireball on him when he did not stop laughing. Not that it did damage; Sargasian's spells of protection where fairly strong and he just pretended to inhale the fire. This made Krekk bellow with rage and storm off and kill several orcs who he later sent replacements for.
But now Sargasian craved blood, he wandered out of the camp and strolled through the surrounding woodlands, wondering if the tracker from Yew was still on their trail. Suddenly he heard a noise and spun around only to be hit in the face with a mace. He stumbled backwards and felt himself falling to the ground face forward as another blow rained down on the back of his head. He started to laugh. He rolled onto his back and looked up as another blow hit him in his stomach.
"Keep laughing after that, dog!"
Sargasian looked up at his assailant, a tall man with mismatching armour and muscles the size of a man's thighs stood above him tapping an enormous mace in his hands, a look of sheer arrogance upon his face.
"Not so funny now, is it?" the man growled. Sargasian laughed even harder as another mace blow was aimed at his head. Deftly he rolled aside and sprung to his feet, laughing all the time as the mace hit the ground where his head had been. The man looked up as Sargasian pulled back his black hood revealing his face. A large smile revealing rows of glistening razor-sharp teeth greeted the man who's look of shock made Sargasian laugh harder.
"What in the name of Sosaria are you?" the man snarled as he lifted his mace high above his head.
Sargasian said nothing as he sprung forward ramming his head into the mans belly knocking him off his feet and making him drop the mace. As he tried to reach for it, Sargasian grabbed his arm and bit into it deeply, tearing a massive chunk of flesh from it, nearly the whole bicep. The man cried out in pain and terror as Sargasian bit into the back of his neck at the base of his skull, paralyzing him. Sargasian then rolled him onto his back and stood over him. "You don't know what to call me but I think I'll call you dinner." Sargasian cooed as blood dripped from his mouth, he the drew a great sword covered in rows of tiny barbs from a sheath at his side and whirled it above his head smashing it down into the mans skull, which cracked with a deafening thud, spilling the man's brains. Sargasian laughed aloud, he never tired of this scene. The look of terror before death made him feel very satisfied. Slowly he knelt down and pulled the man's Braestplate off and bit into his chest. "Let's start with your heart shall we?" Sargasian started to feed as a wolf howled in the distance.
Alone in a cave nearby, a felinoid awakes from the noise. Clair Bienfang shivers to the unaccustomed cold, and her tail coils around her left leg for warmth. Her skirt and short sleeve shirt aren't any help either. Pulling some black ribbon from her pack she ties her short black hair into a bun careful not to bend her ears. The yellow gem on her forehead glows with yellow light as if to assist her night vision cat eyes in the darkness. Her eyes are the same yellow color as her gem, and her pupils are small black slits like her cat-like descendants.
Her feet don't make a sound as she gets up and pulls several objects from her pack. Because her feet bear no shoes, she is extremely quiet with only a whisper of sound as she moves from here to there. Her pink nose sniffs the air and concludes she is alone in the damp cave. She pulls out a worn looking book and a sword. She straps the sword on, though the belt looks strange on her skirt. The sword's sheath bears carvings of dragons and evil elves, each foe she has encountered are carved into this hilt as though she wants to remember every battle. Her defeated foes are so many they flood onto the leather belt. She pulls out her chatchka, a diamond triangle with razor-sharp edges, a gift from an old friend, then tucks it away in her belt. Finally, she delicately pulls out a golden necklace. An Egyptian-like cat hangs from the gold chain and each of its eyes are the same yellow as her gem and her own eyes. The pendant's eyes shine as she pulls it over her head to settle comfortably around her neck.
She looks at the leather pack, empty except for a few rations of trail food gone stale. She leaves it and steps out to face the night. She smiles at the moon and makes a sign her long dead husband taught her, she mumbles some words in her ancient tongue and in a flash of yellow light disappears from the cave to a strange forest. She looks around frowning slightly. She sniffs the air carefully, making sure she is not in danger, then silently edges around the forest looking around and soaking in every location and landmark.
Now Clair watches Sargasian consume the man, trying her best not to gag, though it was extremely hard. Her ears picked up the man's screams tenfold, as well as the disgusting slurping and crunching sound as the creature ate the terrified man. And her nose picked up quite well the smell of blood. She shudders and fingers the diamond chatchka at her belt. She could not see the army, for it was cloaked quite well. But she could smell it. Something she figured they might forget to cloak. After all, it wasn't everyday an orcish army with a daemon as their leader was tracked by a felinoid vowed to serve the gods. Yes, the god she served was concerned. This might very well crush the mortals' faith. She growls lowly, her slitted yellow eyes following the creature who had just eaten the man with the mace. She puts the chatchka back and follows the army, by smell. Hidden by the trees, she only prays she isn't spotted until the timing is exact.
Sargasian was aware he had an audience, it made him feel good knowing the act he had committed was witnessed. "Let them see what I can do here." A low laugh hissed under his Breath. He didn't care if the army was followed, that was Krekk's problem. He was only along for the ride.
Having finished his meal Sargasian cupped his hands in a pool of blood that remained in the carcass and splashed it on his face. His black skin became red, melding with the color of his eyes. One of Sosaria's moons overhead in turn changed color as if in anticipation of the dark rites about to follow.
Sargasian started to chant a low gutteral noise like a feral animal. He started to dance crazily, arms flaying about wildly. Animals cried out from the depths of the forest, birds sleeping in their nests burst into noisy life, fleeing the area. A burst of energy shot forth from Sargasian high into the heavens, dark clouds appeared from nowhere and covered the skies drowning out light from the moons and the stars. A massive crack of thunder drowned out all noise as a lightning bolt was flung from the heavens crashing downs on the dark figure incanting on the ground. Sargasian fell in a burning heap but stood up again and laughed. "Thank you, my queen," he screamed upwards. The clouds dissipated and moonlight returned to the forest, the animals calmed down and were quiet. Sargasian walked back to the encampment, happy with his day's work.
Clair frowns. This mission was near impossible. She glares at the newly enhanced Sargasian. "Alright," she mutters, "now it's my turn." She begins a silent prayer to her god, god of earth. "Let my feet move with the swiftness of a deer, may my strength be enhanced to double a bear's. May my eyesight increase tenfold like that of a soaring eagle. May the forest protect me, lead me, guide me, in this mission you have sent me."
She closes her eyes and the forest becomes silent and calm. The frightened animals stop running from the evil essence of Sargasian. Her gray fur shimmers in the moonlight as a green light enfolds her, her god granting her what she wished. Her skirt and shirt disappear and are replaced by a deep green long sleeved shirt and pants, but her feet remain bare. Her sword begins to glow bright, a green gem on its hilt appears. She looks around, spotting a deer she smiles as she can count each individual flea on its back. She draws her sword and strikes the ground, immediately a shield of invisibility forms around her and she smiles, her white fangs glistening in the moon. Of course, you cannot see that. My turn. She laughs. Perhaps, she thinks, perhaps this mission is not impossible.
For a while she followed the orc band, knowing someone or something very evil was leading it. And her nose burned with their smell and begged for fresh air. Her muscles were sore and strained and her cloths almost ragged. Her gem was beginning to loose its glow as it was being drained slowly for the invisibility spell. Her eyes hurt from strain and felt dry and itchy from lack of sleep. And her stomach ached from lack of food. She pulled out a stack of maps she had scribbled on beechtree bark--seeing as how she had no paper--and wondered if they were accurate enough.
She also began to question her god, which was a very bad thing for anyone to do. She questioned her power, for she doubted if the one with the vile evil magic she had seen in the wood were to challenge right now...she doubted very much her chances of coming out victorious. And for all these reasons she begged and prayed to the god of earth to let her go do something else. Find some army to help, anything. For even she, the ancient one, was afraid. She hated to admit it, indeed it hurt her pride. But she could not deny it, nor could she simply push it out of her thoughts. And so she was surprised when a young doe walked up to her, unafraid. And it was obvious that the animal could see her for she looked up into her yellow eyes with big brown ones. Clair smiled gently and kneeled down to face the doe. She placed a clawed hand gently on the doe's forehead and spoke to her. "Yes, one of the earth, you have a message?"
The doe shuddered and spoke in Clair's mind with a meek female voice. Yes. The god says you may go. Here. Clair jolts as a map of a large forest bursts into her head. She sees the trail she must take, and lastly she sees the people she must speak with. She was surprised, for it was a rather small group. Connor, noble Lord of the Green. Kianne, one of nature, lover of animals. Mess...Who could put him into words? Talmorrr, who had defied even death. And lastly, a strange lass with black hair and mysterious eyes. And a young panther for a companion. Azutah mighty vampiress, almost as old as Clair herself.
Clair frowns and looks at the doe. A vampire? Why her? All I see in her mind is a lust for lifeblood and war. Nothing good can come of her.
The doe looks at her quizzically. Follow orders. For the god does love you and will guide and protect you as though one of his own. Clair nods and removes her hand from the doe's head. Immediately the deer scampers off. Clair looks about and begins to run, she wasn't sure why, but she felt as though she must hurry. After all, this army would be no good for the earth, as well as many innocent people.
***
Geargan sat in the dark damp cave trembling with cold. He was deathly pale and had not eaten in days. A great fear was tormenting his soul, he sensed a great evil had returned to the land, an evil he could not face for it had destroyed his entire family. His mind traced over the old stories his father had told him about his great grandfather who had entered into dark rites and sold his soul to evil for immense power, and how he had tried to recruit his own children but they had escaped into other dimensions to escape him, only to be hunted down and absorbed by his evil. This is what drove Geargan into his isolated hiding place, his grandfather had arrived on Sosaria. He could feel it in his soul and it was driving him to madness. The thought made him dry-wrech, and he collapsed in a heap.
"I am doomed," he muttered and slipped into unconsciousness, and dreamed of sharp teeth and piercing red eyes...
...The forest warped in unnatural colors and the beasts dwelling there took forms not of this existence. He was running through the forest rejoicing in the surreal surroundings. The forest seemed to part before him as if in recoil, no branch or vine blocked his path and soon a clearing opened up before him. Stopping in the middle he looked into the red sky which swirled around a black moon, so black it seemed to absorb all light. His hands reached high above his head trying to reach out and touch the moon.
It was then that he noticed the hands where not his, they were black like the moon, blood red stripes swirled around his arms and hands. Sharp claws extended from the finger tips, fear raced around his mind, his head ached and adrenalin pumped hard through his veins. Suddenly a pool of water appeared before him and he bent down to draw water to cool his face. Looking into the pool he seen a horrid reflection, piercing eyes bored into his soul, feral emotions of flight raced through his mind but he was rooted to the spot. The reflection smiled...
...Geargan awoke suddenly in a cold sweat, he surveyed his surrounds quickly to see he was still in a cave. Sighing, he held his hand to his chests feeling his heart pounding. One thought raced through his head. "By the Abyss, those teeth!" He could hide no longer, he had to face the evil.
Geargan sped through the woods, leaping, ducking and weaving every branch, leaping every rock effortlessly. Natural ability took over as his mind was on other matters. A dread feeling was wrenching in his gut. Did the other rangers know of the danger at hand? Was he involved in the trouble at Yew he heard about in Trinsic when he and Mess had encountered the mermaids? Was the destruction of Mess's house a coincidence as well? All these thoughts raced through his mind as natural instinct guided him through the forest, an unknown force drawing him ever closer.
A few hours later, Geargan lay flat on his belly in the forest. Squadrons of orcs and other assortments of foul creatures filed past him, unaware of his existence. How he wished for a communication crystal! From what he could gather from the excited yelps, cheers and crude songs being sung, the army was headed for Skara. Geargan quickly formulated a plan. As soon as the army had passed he would take a well-used ranger path that should get him to Skara before the rabble. But would it be long enough to build a defense against such numbers?
A fire elemental dissipated into nothingness as magical energy ripped through it. Sargasian, marching with the army on its way to Skara Brae, laughed and slapped his thigh. Killing these creatures was very satisfying; their death moans sounded decidedly delicious. "If only he knew what was happening to these things." Sargasian laughed again, envisioning Krekk charging after him, bellowing about him ruining his plans again. Sargasian just simply could not help himself. He was a murderer and killed simply for sport, and by attaching himself to this army he could kill just about anything he wanted. He had already decimated the ettins, much to Krekk's supreme annoyance, and that's where the real sport lay--just how far could he push the daemon before he cracked?
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and concentrated on another pressing matter. The whelp had finally stopped hiding and summoned up the nerve to seek him out, just like the rest of them did, and like the rest he would soon join him. An evil grin spread across his face; this was turning out to be quite an adventure. "Time to kill another kinsman," he chuckled as he pulled his night-black cloak around him and wandered into the woods toward his unsuspecting prey.
After waiting until the last of the stragglers had passed his position, Geargan sprung to his feet and turned only to be knocked to his feet. Standing above him was a figure draped in black robes. From what he could tell he was not big in build but was extremely solid. The robed figure let out a chuckle which froze Geargan's blood.
"Ahh you've made this so much easier for me, haven't you whelp!" The figure drew back the black hood to reveal a face drawn straight from the pits of the Abyss. Jet black skin with blood red stripes encompassing the bald head, deep set blood red eyes leered at him, piercing his soul, but that smile!!! Rows of razor sharp teeth set into what seemed a permanent hideous smile, mocking him as a tongue ran across the top row. Geargan did not bother to draw a weapon, he knew it was of no use. He only stood up and brushed himself off, trying to keep his nerve as lightning cracked the sky. The black cloak was flung open and seemed to grow larger, drawing him into its darkness.
Sargasian felt the last tremors of life leave his kinsman, the last in his bloodline to fall to him. His mission was now complete, the entire bloodline of Magog now dwelt within his twisted soul, each adding to his power, all giving their knowledge of their plane of existence to his intellect. The last one to fall, this Geargan the forest dweller, his knowledge would help greatly, especially his familiarity with those who sought to stop the daemon Krekk would come in very handy. Feeling the last of Geargan's life force ebb into him, Sargasian trotted back into the ranks of the army and hurried to walk beside Krekk, smiling all the way. Sargasian noticed that the daemon refused to acknowledge his presence. It wasn't worth the trouble, apparently, and he knew Krekk was sick of the sight of that infernal smile.
The last thing Geargan could remember was the Dark one enveloping him into the darkness. He was aware that his material presence had been eliminated, there was nothing he could do, he was stricken with fear and could not move. Now all he knew was this black existence, but he was not alone. The souls of his bloodline that had also fallen dwelt in the same sorrowful place he now inhabited, and what was worse he could feel their pain and misery as they too could feel his. But the worst of all, they where all aware of what was transpiring as Sargasian shared every vile act he committed, delighting in their horror, using their sorrow to strengthen himself. Geargan's torment was complete, he was in a worse place than the Abyss itself!
The world was red. Too red. Geargan could feel the other souls fleeing. Something bad was going to happen. Then he appeared, grotesque in appearance but he could only focus on one thing. THOSE TEETH. He tried to flee with the others, but he was stuck steadfast, unable to move. Fear held him in place, then HE was upon him.
"There is no escape here, whelp; this is my domain, and you are a part of it whether you like it or not. You are part of me now!"
"What do you want with me?" Geargan replied.
"The rangers, the ones you were once like, you're going to give me all your memories about them. They are going to be MINE!" Sargasian's eyes were boring into his soul, feeding on his memories. All his emotions where laid bare, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was being sucked dry; the pain was unbearable, then it stopped and the world became black again...
***
Morgen wiped a hand across his forehead, rubbing away sweat, dirt, and days old blood. Since being captured by the orcish horde just two days earlier, while on a scouting mission for the rangers, he had been beaten brutally by his captors. Fortunately, he had been mistaken (by no mistake of his own) for a common traveler. This had allowed him to live for as long as he had. Orcs hold no love for men and women of such character as the Rangers of Krynn. As it was, he had been relieved of all possessions, including weapons and armor, and was dressed in nothing but the tattered remains of his fancy shirt and pants, and boots.
He could feel the mood in camp changing. He could sense that a battle was looming. Preparations had been underway since yesterday and the horns had started blowing only an hour earlier. Morgen knew that the time was right. His time studying with the Trinsic Border Guard had taught him as much. As far as he was concerned, there were three times. A time to retreat, a time to wait, and a time to act. Now was surely the time to act, if ever there was a time for it. It was still before dawn, and so there was very little light yet in the camp. Knowing that at such a time, the guard on his cage would be minimal, Morgen decided to make good his escape. Drawing the small knife that he had been able to secure in his boot before capture, and which by some stroke of luck, or the grace of the gods, had evaded discovery at his capture, he moved quietly towards the bars of his cage. Calling out to the lone guard, then hiding himself in the shadows, he waited. Foolishly, as only an orc can do, the guard swaggered over to the cage. Surely looking forward to taunting Morgen again, which was usually followed by a healthy beating. As the first words of his orcish insult escaped his lips, the orc realized that the cage was empty. Fumbling with the keys, it opened the cage door and quickly looked around inside. A flash of movement. Morgen stepped from his place of hiding and sent the guard whirling with a solid kick to the midsection. This was followed with the knife, expertly thrown at the throat. It was over before the guard had fully realized his own peril.
Checking the corpse, Morgen found a short sword which he discarded. A dagger would be of more use to him. Morgen had never taken the time to learn the art of sword fighting, always being more interested in the art of maces. A war mace and shield, or a two handed war hammer had always been preferable in his eyes. These weapons could be deceptive to a warrior with a sword. They often did not suspect that such a weapon could be wielded with such dexterity until it was too late. Creeping outside, then stopping softly at the guard shack, he checked to ensure that pursuit would not follow soon. He was about to turn away when he saw the glint of metal from the corner. Could it be? No. It wasn't possible. And yet...sprinting into the room, Morgen looked and was excited to see his own war hammer sitting quietly against the wall. Such luck could not have been coincidence! Surely the gods favored the rangers this day! Anvil had been a faithful friend in many a battle, and would surely serve him well again this day.
Drawing on the hooded cloak of an orcish guard, he drew the cowl low about his face, and made his way through the camp. Perhaps, if his luck held, he would be able to remain undiscovered long enough to escape the camp and hopefully find his friends nearby. The rangers would be there. Somehow he knew it.
Unseen nearby, a lone figure watches. The winds swirl lightly around him. He is not noticed; he watches and waits. The same wind blows from the orcish army, whispering its secrets. Far away from them, he watches and listens to the wind as it speaks the secrets it knows. From Yew to Skara Brae...the daemon Krekk...elementals...Sargasian...boats being carried over land... Finally the wind rises and the cloaked figure catches the wind as it whisks him towards Skara Brae. Underneath his cloak a flash of white shows from his robe.
***
He surveyed his surroundings. All was quiet besides the guards walking sentry around the camp. He looked up and surveyed the mountain cliffs. There were many places a spy could hide up there and he thought a scout or two would have to explore all those places in the morning. There can be no room for error. He noticed an eagle circle above and paid it no heed. He walked to the cliff face and examined the opening to the cave. His eyes shifted spectrums to best look into the complete darkness. No threat, he thought. Not much could threaten one as powerful as him, anyway.
He stepped into the cave and descended into the darkness. He rounded the first corner and a giant scorpion spun to face him. Its pincers extended out and snapped open and close in a threatening gesture. He walked up to the scorpion with no care for his safety. As he approached the scorpion lunged with its left pincer, he laughed as he caught it and with one arm lifted the giant creature into the air. The scorpion tried to spin and wriggle out of the grasp but he had a firm grip. He leaned back coiling his arm and lunged forward, slamming the scorpion into the cave wall. The exoskeleton shattered with the force of the impact and the scorpion went limp, dead. He wiped his hand on his skin and continued onwards.
After a time as he walked he came to a cavern with two chests laying in the center. He stopped and looked around. A trap, he thought, but continued onwards any way. As he approached the chests the ground began to rumble slightly. He stepped back and watched the ground erupt as two mounds of earth pushed out of the cave floor. Limbs extended from the mounds, then a head and the shapes formed fully as two earth elementals. They roared a sound that sounded like boulders tumbling down a cliff, then slowly moved forward to attack. He stood his ground watching them curiously. As they closed around him he spoke.
"Stop!" His voice boomed out shaking the walls. The elementals stopped and looked at him with their lifeless black eyes. "Move aside," he commanded, and they moved slowly, stepping to either side of him. He moved forward and left the cavern with the two elementals standing in the center. He rounded the next few bends and continued onwards, giant scorpions passed him by as he walked and didn't pay any heed to his presence. He rounded a set of stalagmites and stopped dead, surprised.
There in front of him stood a platform made from carved stones. Three steps led to the top of the platform on which a blue portal pulsated with its mystic energies. "How interesting," he rumbled under his breath, then stepped forwards into the gate. The world compressed into a point then expanded and he found himself standing on a ledge of yet another platform. He could feel the pressure of the air and he knew he was now deep underground. He stepped forward of the platform into a tunnel that ran to his left and right. To the left he moved, walking down the passage.
After some time he walked out into a massive cavern easily two hundred feet high and three times that wide. He looked to the center of the cavern and there standing in the middle of a lake was a tower. The front of the tower had an opening with a drawbridge in front and on this drawbridge was a most interesting sight. Three humans stood behind a barricade made from hay bales. They shouted powerful incantations and directed them over the top at something hidden from his view by a stone pylon of the bridge. He walked into the cavern and descended through the stalagmite mounds, moving quietly towards the bridge. He rounded a group of stalagmites and peered to the bridge to see a bright green cloud of gas spinning violently. Gaseous arms protruded from the side and he surmised the three were fighting a poison elemental.
His ears pricked up as a vast amount of mana was drawn by those behind the barricade. A rift was formed and from within a spirit was drawn. He recognized it. "Llama herder," he muttered. The summoned spirit touched down on the ground next to the poison elemental and began its tireless barrage of blades. Spinning faster than the eyes could see, the blades sliced through the gaseous form causing considerable damage.
Then the elemental renewed its assault this time beginning with a simple incantation. "An Ort". Llama herder resisted and continued his assault. From behind the barricade stronger incantations were cast. Pillars of flame scorched the elemental and energy bolts tore through the air. With so many attacks hitting home the elemental had no chance to fight back, so it tried to run. The barricade broke apart as the three came jumping over in pursuit. The poison incanted again and Llama herder vanished but it was too late. An explosion rocked the elemental and an energy bolt blew it apart. Its green gasses dissipated and a pouch fell to the ground where it was standing. The three slumped to the ground cheering but totally exhausted. He looked on, interested, still behind the stalagmites. They hadn't noticed him but if they looked up they would.
They all turned as a light flashed on the roof of the tower and the tell tale sound of some one recalling in sounded. Another flash of light on the bridge then footsteps. Over the barricade jumped a man wearing the bones of another human; he landed and incanted. The three jumped to heir feet but that was all the time the newcomer needed. A field of paralysis materialized and caught the three fast like flies on fly paper. They shouted and the newcomer advanced. He laughed and began an incantation of summoning. A purple vortex of energy ripped through the air and descended on the three stuck fast in the field. They screamed as the vortex pummeled them with spells and physical attacks. One of the three fell with his head caved in then two explosions finished the next of the three. The field fell and the last of the three fell forwards. Now he screamed and began incanting a healing spell. He didn't get to finish the spell as the vortex turned its full fury on him. He lasted three seconds then fell dead.
The newcomer waited until the vortex dissipated then strode forward. He laughed and cursed the three for not being more worthy opponents. A dull red glow began to surround the newcomer and he laughed even harder. The new comer looked up as he heard laughing, deep hard evil laughter. Then from behind the stalagmites the onlooker stepped out in the guise of an orc. The two stood facing each other, then the newcomer began laughing. "Be gone, orc, before I kill you too."
"You think me a simple orc," He boomed with his voice shaking the walls of the cavern.
The newcomer raised his eyebrows. "Such a mighty voice for one so little."
"Appearances can be deceptive," he boomed.
The newcomer fingered his reagent pouch "What are you then, orc?"
"First tell me why you killed them," he boomed.
"They were in my domain."
He dropped his voice to a menacing whisper. "What makes it your domain?"
The newcomer smiled. "I do, orc." Then reagents flew through the air, an incantation spoken, an arc of energy tore through the air to slam into the orc figure. But when it impacted it just passed through and smashed into the stalagmites.
He laughed and the newcomer frowned. Then he stepped out into full view of the newcomer, he extended his arms and wings and let out a bellowing roar. The daemon Krekk stood in all his glory with his shining black skin radiating an aura of pure evil, his eyes burning like the fires of hell. The newcomer paled as the walls shook from his roar, he leaped to the side and began to run but Krekk leaped forward like a bolt of lightning and slammed his clawed hand into and shattering the bone armor on his torso. He spun a full circle and realized he couldn't run and had to fight. A quick incantation released a bolt of energy. This time it didn't pass through but slammed home into Krekk. The daemon roared not in pain but fury. The newcomer dodged to the side dived into a roll just avoiding the blow from the daemon. He came into a crouch and reached for his reagents just as Krekk incanted. The pouch of reagents shot off through the air and landed in Krekk's glowing hands. Once again Krekk laughed then shot forward slamming his hands together with one almighty clap. The newcomer looked on stunned as in a split second his reagents shot away from him and the daemon's hands shot forth slapping down on either side of his head.
The skull shattered and gore rained upwards like a fountain. Krekk feasted on the fresh kill and devoured the life energies, destroying any hope of resurrection for the dead soul. With the influx of power, his muscles bulged and his eyes glowed hot white and the cavern lit up like daylight. Krekk roared in ecstasy and the walls shook, boulders came crashing down knocked loose from the ceiling. Krekk reached down and drew a pentagram in the ground he stepped into it and began an incantation that would boil the blood of any good person. Powerful words of evil tumbled from his mouth, and as they hit the ground runes appeared. Some runes stayed fixed in the air, some attached themselves to the corpses and blood scattered around. Within an hour the cavern was glowing with runes of evil.
Never had Krekk cast this spell but he knew it as memories that weren't his, tumbling through his mind. Flashes of a past long forgotten pushed to the surface and he remembered a castle, a traveler and a gem. He nearly lost his concentration as his mind reeled with the images. Krekk pushed them to the back in a dark recess in his mind and continued his incantation. He roared in success as he came to his end and with one last push of energy completed the spell with a word of ancient power. He fell to his knees then threw his hands into the air and screamed, "RISE!" The ground rumbled, the air swirled, the blood on the ground boiled and green vapor from the dissipated poison elemental coagulated and grew. Within minutes, shapes pushed from the earth, vortexes of air spun through the air and spouts of water formed, blood raised and expanded forming fountains and poisonous gases swirled forming erratic clouds. All went quiet and Krekk weakly looked up. Surrounding him on all sides numbering in the hundreds stood, floated, and swirled elementals of every kind. Air elementals spun through the air. Earth elementals stomped over the ground. Water elementals filled the lake. Poison and blood elementals spun circles around each other until they came to a stop and faced Krekk. All at once all the elementals looked at him and he received a mental image of each one bowing in servitude to him. He smiled and stood weakly. "My new soldiers," he whispered, "chaos will once again rule the land. For when we march no one and nothing can stop us."
Wearily Krekk stood and took a step forward out of the pentagram. Telepathically he motioned two earth elementals to help him walk. The spell had taken so much out of him and he felt weaker than he ever had before. I must feast, he thought to them, take me back out to my army. With this command the hundreds of elementals surged out of the cavern weaving their way through the tunnels and eventually out into the night air. The orcish sentries were startled to see elementals storming out of the cave, but that was replaced by wailing terror as Krekk tore their heads off and devoured their souls. A pile of eighty orcs surrounded the daemon before he felt strong again and when he did he ordered the army to break camp in the morning and move further south toward Skara Brae, and the Abyss help those who stood in his way...
Hundreds of feet above, an eagle circled unnoticed, watching the scene with a keen eye. It then wheeled south and began its long journey for the southern coast. It had a friend that might be interested in this scene. An image of a ranger lord and his large stone tree came into its mind. Its great wings beat the air hard.
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THE BEGINNING...
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