The tunnels of Vul'Gul were massive. Twenty feet wide and around thirty feet tall.
It was easy to see why massive creatures like the ogres lived within it.
They had probably taken years to carve out a place for themselves, and now it was nearly perfect for them.
The path we walked was sparse, but well lit, and many Ogres had already charged out to greet us, not that it mattered.
Jarg, my newest servant, had been quite thorough is scaring the majority of his fellows into allowing us to pass, it only took him easily overpowering several larger ogres for his new place in the tribe to be established.
Even now Jarg dragged the broken body of a particularly strong challenger by the mouth, the broken jaw of the ogre pitifully mewling as he was taken with us.
I jumped back as a massive club thundered upon the ground I once stood.
Unfortunately it wasnt so secure that a few Ogres didnt try their luck at the human trailing behind him.
With a quick flex of my hand, vines burst around the attacker before any could join him, and he died screaming as they tightened and crushed him into nothing but paste.
The rest backed off, but I had a feeling once we got far enough ahead the others would try the same.
It'd be alot simpler if I could assume my true form inside this cave, but if I did it would be all but impossible to manuever around.
Plus there was no garuantee I wouldnt scare them into attacking me blindly. If they thought they were backed into a corner there would be little to do but kill them, and that would be a waste.
People were unlikely to care about me killing Ogres, but the act of raising them was likely to draw far too much of the wrong kind of attention.
A single human necromancer of moderate strength would never manage such a feat, and even if he could stronger necromancers could easily take it away from him.
Considering the demons invented modern necromancy I wasn't certain I could maintain control even at my best. So I would be avoiding overt necromancy in Outland, at least until I found a means of control that couldnt be overpowered.
Still, this whole situation did bring up an interesting thought. I took human form for leisure and appearances, I took my draconic form for fear and battle, but what about places like this?
I would only grow larger as time went on, and while that would always have its uses it would be pertinent to find a form of use in combat that my draconic form would be less effective in.
I put the thought aside as we entered an open chamber. It was almost a clan hall in its design, with several large tables aligned across from a throne made of a mixture of metal and bone.
I looked around the cavern, taking note of its size. It would have to do.
Half breed Slaves tended the ogres needs and they feasted on a mixture of worgen flesh and the occasional human body.
Upon the throne twenty feet of pure muscle leisurely sat, wearing the scrapped together armor of what I distantly recognized as Alliance footman's plate.
Probably killed quite a few of them to get all of it too.
Several particularly large ogres brandished their weapons at us, and a booming voice echoed out to greet us.
"A human in my hall? What a surprise!"
The Ogre warlord laughed, drinking from a flagon of some kind of alcohol.
"I assume you're the dragon that my guard reported about? An interesting choice of body to wear."
It seems this Ogre was one of the smart ones. I smiled.
"Of course I am." A number of the Ogres facing us shifted uncomfortably, even their dull minds realising the danger they were in.
"Why are you here?" It was a fair question, If a dragon randomly crashed my house I would be curious too.
I looked behind me, noticing the growing crowd of ogres emerging from the tunnels around us.
I let my eyes glow, and I spoke with my true voice.
"I am here to collect those who would wish to serve a god. One willing to offer power and strength."
I gestured to Jarg as he broke the neck of the victim he brought with him.
"This one was weak, and now hes stronger than any of you."
It was a bit of an exageration. Im sure there were a few who might have been able to beat my ogre in single combat, but with me so close it'd be easy to overpower the inscriptions on his body.
But they didn't know that, and already I could see them considering it, the tribe wondering at the prospect of strength.
The warlord grimaced. He realised I had not come to make this offer to him.
"A mighty creature such as a dragon is truly something to be feared and respected, but you stand in my hall."
He leaned forward, and across the chamber my eyes could make out his jagged teeth flashing in my direction.
"And even dragons can die."
He was playing it cool, but I could hear his heart beating rapidly. He knew he could lose control of his tribes loyalty if he didn't prove himself the strongest.
I heard a grunt as my ogre tore a twisted metal hammer from anothers hands, before smashing it into the ground. "Enough talk! Time to prove strength!"
Jarg slowly approached the Ogre on the throne. He twitched lightly as the magics inside of him grew all the stronger.
His breath misted red, and I heard a growl emerge from his throat.
The warlord stood, hefting an axe that was actually well forged. "Come now Jarg, you cant really believe you can beat me?"
He towered over my servant, stepping forward.
I felt hesitation reflect back to me, before I poured rage into his body.
Jarg answered with a howling cry, before throwing himself forward.
The warlord's axe came up to block the first strike lazily, and the two weapons met with a clash. The lazy grin on the larger ogres face turned to a from as he was driven a few paces back.
Blind and animalistic rage met experience and strength.
The cheiftan grunted as he tried to strike back, before falling back once more to block a flurry of blows.
I couldn't have asked for a better advertisement. The ogres began to murmur amongst themselves as an ogre nearly half the size of their leader fought him to a standstill.
Their weapons struck each other in a cacophony of noise, meeting each other as Jarg fought to force the axe from his old chieftains grip, and the chief fought to keep the hammer from striking him fully.
Eventually something had to give. With a screech of metal Jargs hammer gave way to a particularly savage blow, and came apart, leaving the warlord free to attack.
He pulled his axe back with a laugh, bringing it down with force enough to crack stone and tear men apart.
My servant fell to his knees, screaming as the axe bit deeply into his shoulder. The larger ogre leaned in, jagged teeth grinning wide as Jarg bled into his blade.
I sighed. At this rate this would now take alot more bodies than I'd like.
The ogre leader laughed as he pushed his blade further into my servant.
The laughter rang out across the hall, echoing down the tunnels.
The laughter went on as my slave struggled to keep the axe from going deeper. It seemed for a moment I would have to handle this myself.
Before Jargs grip tightened around the haft of the blade, and his forehead met the warlords teeth.
He tried to back away, howling as he spat broken teeth and blood into the air, only to halt as my servants other hand wrapped around his arm.
With a mighty heave he pulled the chieftan back towards him, smashing his head again into his jaw and knocking the screaming monster to the ground.
Jarg stepped forward, ripping the axe out as he did.
"Wait!" I nearly laughed at the sound.
The warlord had managed to call out as the axe was planted deep into his skull.
I strode over as Jarg turned, raising the axe into the air. Victory.
Glorious and bloody.
"Jarg! Jarg! Jarg!" The Ogres called out.
A pale dragon rose behind the newest chieftain of the Splinter-fist tribe as he collapsed into the throne.
"Serve me! Serve me and this power is yours!"
The dragon growled as the ogres screamed out in agreement.
"Serve Malius, God of the Dark Hunger!
