***Story formally known as "The Last God."***
This is the third installment of the Gravedigger series, BUT it is completely stand alone. I will vaguely describe all necessary events required to understand the storyline, but like stated, only vaguely. If you want to know the full extent of what happens, feel free to go back and read the Gravedigger: Dawn of Hope, and Gravedigger: March of the fallen.
But again, you do not need to read those two for this story. Think of it like Star Wars, the early tales are simply a prelude to the good stuff. XD
To begin, let us start with a prologue; it is two parts, only because it would be too long as one chapter. Gotta give natural intermissions.
Anyway, enjoy
"Great men are born of stature. Victorious men are crafted from circumstance. Legendary men are molded within the annuals of time. All men, title aside, bear one similarity, one common quality…fear. Find what brings a man to cowardice, and he will obey you like an animal."
Nathanos Marris, speech given upon induction into the Rangers, three months prior to the great plague.
Seven years before the fall of the Lich King, upon a cold, breezy, summer night, a small gathering of men meet; a conglomeration of individuals packed into the halls of one building, into one room. Within the halls of Gilneas' Town center, the walls tremble from the grand commands of a great man, of a King. Two men, led by King Greymane, Ruler of the Gilneas Nation, assemble items necessary for a trip of overwhelming proportions; a venture worthy of Greymane himself.
But it is what stirs the blood of the King's veins that motivates this departure. It is what strangles his sanity that drives this expedition. It is what curses his heart that brings impatience…and anxiety…
"This is not right!" My heavy feet clank against the thick, wooden floors. "Stop wasting time!"
"My lord," Captain Kowl gawks uselessly across the room. "My lord, why the haste?"
Rage grips my arm as it slams into the table, "Do not question me!" I control myself, lowering my voice the best one can. "Just do it…"
My servant, Grin "Gin" Jhok, scampers across the room, carrying within his arms a mesh of miscellaneous items. He throws it upon the table before wrapping all it within a thick, brown, leather cloth.
A toothbrush slips from his grip, slamming onto the old, dusty floor. He ceases all activity to stare awkwardly upon this tiny instrument. His body quivers gently as he glances to me and then to his hygienic tool. Pick it up, Gin. Pick it up, or leave it.
He hesitates for a moment longer, letting precious time slip through his wrinkled, aged fingers. Pick it up…or leave it!
Finally he flinches, reaching to the floor. Annoyingly, he rolls it between his fingers as he gazes disgustingly upon the wooden item. Charcoals churn within my chest, fueling a torrent of heated rage throughout my body.
"Pick it up, Gin!" Uncontrollably I shout, "Pick it up, and finish your damned work!"
Instantly, he whips upright, fear spreading across his old face. Shaking eyes dance within the hollowed sockets of his skull. A tongue quivers within the damp, dark orifice that is his mouth. Hands quake wildly.
After a brief, delayed moment, he throws the item into his pile, completing his duty as properly told. Old Gin, he is a good man – a tall, good man. A thick, white blanket of white hair covers his folding scalp. Gray, aged eyes match the wrinkles that one could once call flesh. He is a strong man, a very strong man, indeed. But even I, the mighty Greymane, bring the man to his knee.
Yes, many men find themselves within the very situation that Gin is pitted in now; my strength and power are overwhelming to the greatest of man!
But, sadly, modesty grips me currently, forcing my own humble thoughts from my mind. A task is at hand, and it must be completed.
"I have finished, Lord." Gin scoops the bag into a large pack and rests both upon a heavy, wooden chair.
A smirk forms upon his face, and, as a king will do, I nod to keep it plastered firmly there. He is a diligent worker. That is why I have kept him since my own birth. My parents knew a great, hard man when they saw him. And I know a worker when I see him.
"My lord, I have my property properly gathered as well." The Captain throws a heavy sack upon his shoulders, bracing for the move, as a good soldier should.
In response, Gin hurriedly places his mound of assorted goods upon his back. Both of them are prepared, so it is time for their grand leader, their grand Greymane, to guide them down our glorious path.
Swiftly, I shift and march steadily towards the door. Heavy, hulking boots crack upon the wooden floor. My large, wide, tree-trunk arm extends outwards, fingers wrapping around the metallic knob.
With a firm twist, it opens, and I swing it open. I rush forward…wait! My lumbering form spins, knocking back both of my loyal companions. They should have not trailed so closely!
I motion to them, directing them outside. My large, bear like hand latches to the side of the door until both escape outside, and I throw it shut. Promptly, I pivot, facing towards a small container behind me. Gently, softly, King, take the contents from within.
Bulking, oversized fingers curl around the small edges of the wooden construct. A small, unsealed latch bounces against the side as I drag the lid up. Without hesitation, I reach, grab wrapped object within, and…
"My Lord?" The Captain startles me.
Swiftly, I shove the mummified item into my thick trench coat and spin, "Captain! Mind your interruptions, you fool!"
Kowl flinches and steps from the door as I approach him, "Apologizes, my lord."
I dart across the room, letting the interloping man close the door behind me. My hands pat my chest, ensuring that the item rests where it should.
"No worries, Captain, I am a forgiving man. All wrongs have been overlooked."
He nods a few times, but I grow tired of watching him. Swiftly, I march forward, leading the other two forcefully and properly. Within seconds, we round a small bend, enter another hallway and aim for a large, curling staircase before us.
Our feet ring weak echoes through the narrow, hollow halls. Packs jingle with useless items as my two followers heave themselves onward. Wooden planks creak as we near the edge of the floor and begin our descent.
Cold, wooden railings glide beneath my giant paw. Dull thuds radiate from the strong, well-constructed steps -- built of my very hand. Padding upon the stairs absorb the bulk of the sound, and the gleam as moonlight glistens upon…
Moonlight…
Adrenaline fills my chest. Veins turn to ice, matching the temperature of the chilly banisters. My eyes divert upwards, and I stop. Peering through the large window is a circular disc.
Black blotches cover the vast surface of the white nuisance. Gray grooves nestle with the ominous horror. Black clouds tickle the edges of the monstrously, but do nothing to hide it from sight and mind. The Moon…
"King? Why have we stopped?" Gin speaks to my quietly.
Yes, why have you stopped, great king? Do not let that sinister sphere distract you. Stay strong; get to the bottom of these steps!
Swiftly, I jettison down the now screeching steps. Wood bends and buckles to my lumbering trot. Winding railings creak and shake as sweaty palms shake them. In seconds, I feel my thick, leathery soles slap the stone floor of the main living area.
Ahead of us rests a large, wooden door. Perfectly carved windows rest in the center of each door, but their sleek surfaces blur all reality and sight. Darkness creeps across the room, exposing the night as the true, silent stalker that it is.
My bulky arm shoots forward, fingers wrapping the metal handle. With a great force, I rip the door upon, letting a freezing, stinging breeze waft across my gentle flesh. The thick beard of mine shakes and drags back as the wind catches its steel fibers.
A thick, heavy leg drags from beneath the elongated coat of mine. It slaps into the large, rectangular slab of stone, followed quickly by the second. I shuffle forward a bit, positioning myself at the edge of the hobble street.
To my left is a long, straight path. Buildings are aligned against the pathway, but are dormant in the dark. My eyes follow the path until all that remains are distant blocks, and needling bends. That direction leads to the dock, and the sea beyond.
The moonlight that once blared brightly now rests dull behind the thick, gray clouds. All the land appears as dark as the vast cover overhead. All except for the random gray streaks that shift between Gilneas' buildings, and nestle within folds of clouds.
Matching the daunting, dreary nature of the visage, is the overpowering silence; it caresses the mind, tempting it to wander aimlessly. Even the wind is overwhelming through the piercing void of sound.
Where is he?
Then, as if on cue, a dull thudding echoes across the tranquil skies. Rhythmic drumming clanks louder and louder. Hard, hollow objects slam heavily against properly aligned streets.
Swiftly, my gaze diverts to my right. Second by second the thuds turn to loud clomping stomps, revealing what I have so anticipated for. Emerging over the turn of the gently, rolling hill is a horse. Quickly following is a heavy, black carriage.
The hurried ride pulls up along side us, stopping with the door perfectly aligned for our entry. Instantly ,the side door bursts open, exposing a shadowy, dark compartment suited just for a man of my grand stature.
Before I can reach for the frame, the rider shouts to us, "Lord Greymane, the master apologizes for his tardiness." Black, heavy robes shift as the man lifts cloth-covered hands back at the body of the carriage, "Do make yourself comfortable."
The stagecoach shakes as my large foot stomps the light, metal step. Reins shuffle in the hands of the cloaked, hooded driver, but I pay no heed to the peasant. Instead, I climb into the carriage, and shuffle to the seat on my right side. The ride shakes again as I flop into my position.
Gin clumsily squeezes past my legs, placing himself to my right. The Captain throws his pack forward, before promptly sitting to my left. He closes the door behind him, and the small, interior space grows silent. Across from the three of us is a pitch-black wall. All light seems to flee from the opposite end of this carriage. However, a red, plush seat can be made out from here, and, if my eyes play me right, I do believe I see legs wrapped behind a thick robe...
"Master Greymane, pleasure to see you are…commanding as ever." A voice barrels through the shadowy cover of other seat.
I squint, hoping to break through the heavy covering, but it is too dark. Quickly, I smirk, hiding any sign of confusion or alarm.
"Lord, marvelous to see you as…withdrawn as ever."
A heavy hand shifts through the shadows, lifting to the wall of the carriage. RAP, RAP, RAP. Dull drums roll from a curled fist as the man rattles the walls of the carriage.
Instantly, the sounds of whipping reins ring, and jerking wood shifts us forward. Sounds of trotting hooves return, but are drawn to the background. Shifting forward, a figure, head hidden in hood, body lost in robe, appears from the shadowy seat.
His right arm braces his leg, while returning moonlight, breaking through the side window, exposes his chin, mouth, and nose.
"So, Greymane, what say you on current pleas of your fellow allies?" The deep, crackling voice of the man slips past his straight lips.
I grunt loudly, "Allies? They are gnats amongst my grand shadow!" My voice projects forcefully, "King Menethil demands I send aid against the rising threat. He dares commands an answer from a man holding his weapon!"
I lean forward, rage fully exposed, "The Alliance will have my answer. I will not be viewed weak by pointy-eared elves, nor pitied by Lorderon's feeble ruler!"
My eyes narrow as I continue, "But I do not believe we came here for politics, did we, Lord?"
Eyes ripple through his dark cover. Red, burning coals light strangely at the back of his eyes. The flares quickly fade into two, gray pupils. That was rather odd. The light is playing tricks on me. No, no…my mind is doing all the witchery here. My nerves are rattling my normal strength. Do not let it overwhelm you, Greymane.
As my introvert moment comes to an end, the man leans back into his chair, but remains visible, "No, that we did not, Greymane."
There is a brief silence as his eyes sweep my body.
"Did you bring it?"
My eyes sweep him. My lips curl downward as my hand shifts into my pocket. Quickly, I draw the wrapped object from my jacket, letting the man see it clearly.
"Almost insulting you even had to ask, Lord."
He drags forward again, eyes locked on the small, tan item.
"Must make sure my investments are worthwhile, King. No offense intended, but one must ask."
He shifts across the chair, eyes never breaking from the object. His hands lift up and rock, letting his robe slide down his arms. Fingers curl slightly as both palms draw to the sides of the tiny package. Lips quiver gently, while foam eagerly coats their edges.
I snatch my arm back, shoving the object back into the same heaven near my own beating heart.
"My end of the bargain is exactly where it belongs, Lord." He glares, frustrated at me, "You will retrieve it when you fulfill your end."
As he scoots back into his chair, he frowns, "Always the businessman, my friend." He emits a weak chuckle, "Just would not be Greymane the Great without strings attached."
I make to speak, but a sudden jerk of the carriage, and with a heavy rocking motion, we begin to slow. Reins whip again, but this time we come to a stop. The wooden door flies open, letting the freezing, cold wind feed into the tiny room.
Swiftly, the Lord stands up, makes for the door, and carefully departs the vehicle. Without hesitation, I jump after him, exiting the carriage just as he moves from its side. I hear the other two scurry from behind, but I am distracted.
Ahead, rests rows of long, wooden docks. They jut in all directions, forming sharp bends and hook shapes for a vast fleet. A vast array of ships litters the harbor, but it is one that draws my attention.
Stationed nearest to us is a large, black vessel. Two, thick masts elevate high into the air. Ropes dangle and drag from the side wooden pillars as crewman work diligently upon the deck. Standard, curved railings give the fine rolling curve of the ship, as well as hold cannons.
The outside almost appears glazed, as if coated with a fine, reflective material. Black planks build the walls perfectly, like scales to a dragon. Speaking of which, at the bow rests a large, curling head of a black serpent's head. Masterfully crafted teeth are exposed within the opened mouth, while thin, hefty ears protrude backwards. Spikes line down the spine and back of the skull before ending at the deck.
"My vessel, Greymane." The lord slaps my arm forcefully; "Let your men make themselves at home. It is going to be a long voyage."
I nod weakly, but shout firmly, "Gin, Captain, go aboard the ship."
The Lord nods, "Yes, have the Skipper find you your stations. He should be the large, angry fellow shouting orders."
Gin and Kowl throw nods to us, sound off properly, and quickly scamper to the boat like children to a carnival. The two of us stand silently, both gawking at the grand design before us.
Sadly, as I watch, the sinister, always watching sphere appears in the top corner of my vision. Again, the white wrinkles ruin all sense of joy, or feeling of strength. The one, lone crater stares down upon me, calling to me and my…curse.
My lips smack, and I speak softly, "Lord, can your source truly give me a cure?"
He lets go of my shoulder, shuffling forward quickly. Irritated, I follow after him. We near the ship quickly, but my anger grows as his ignorance wears on me. My lips part, but do not let a word loose.
"Greymane," he stops, turning to me before me step upon the ramp that leads to the ship, "You almost insult me."
A spiteful smirk forms on his lips, "He can do more than simply heal what ails you, King. He can do much, much more."
Turning from me, he steps onto the thick, wooden slope and begins his ascension. A weak sense of relief nestles within my core, but does not truly envelop the harsh scratching within.
I make after him, but my eyes divert to the ominous orb overhead. It still breaks the sky, letting its unforgiving, unyielding rays burn my very flesh. It still breaks the sky, harassing my very sanity with each passing second.
"Lord Prestor," I speak to the man as we near the top, and make for the deck of the ship, "I have trusted you for quite some time…"
He turns, staring up at me. Again, I take sight of brief, burning embers within his eyes. Such strength and fury within his very glance. It almost feels as if fiery damnation reins from his very being; as if he can melt you with sight alone…
"And I have you, Greymane." He nods heavily, "I, Lord Daval Prestor, am a man of my word, aspect of…honesty." He turns from me, "In the end, King, we will both be very, very pleased."
At that, he makes across the deck, leaving me to stand alone. Looking down, I take in all the active crew. Men all of all sorts hurry across the cold, hard deck. They stir up torrent of sounds, but are hidden from the world. My two loyal soldiers, Daval, and myself, are the only ones that know of what is happening this day.
Of course, I do let out what haunts my dreams, what curses my veins. How can I? I am Greymane, and the world looks up to me. I am Greymane the Great, ruler of the strongest nation on this planet. I am Greymane…and I fear no man.
My eyes shift up, letting the malicious, distant planet fill my sight. And soon, I shall not fear you.