Desolation of a small village was a common occurance, and even more common, was the beheading of the unfaithful groups of the besieged. The goblin queen held no clemency for those who fought for her traitorous lover, the goblin king, nor did she show discrepancy for his followers.
At first the newly appointed ruler of As’Bian, bequeathed a generous donation for those in grief over the untimely death of their beloved king. For a time, the commoners believed the cherade and mockery the queen had place before them. Weeks turned into months, months turned into years and the birth of the queens rage had reared its ugly head. A whisper in the sorts had gently glided from one ear to another, gaining in motion as the days went on. First hatching as a hint of foul play, then ghastly going through a metamorphisis of murder and jealousy.
In the eyes of the goblins, the queen held the highest preference of beauty and grace; Long black laced hair, olive green but fair skin with even deeper green eyes, and the body of true virtue. She stood straight and high headed, with an agreement to royalty that seemed to compliment her figure. With the attitude and entitlement that comes along side, the queen was enthralled to be married to the keeper and Ruler of their lands.
In the time of their wedding, a war was at its end between the two (and only) kingdoms ruled by the goblins, As’Bian and Kash’den. The king and queen promised to one another to seal an ever lasting peace treaty and The two kingdoms became one after the consummation had been fulfilled.
The king of Kash’den, a goblin of grotesque features, was no stranger to pillaging while belonging to a navel conglomeration, and eventually self promoted to captain of the pirated ship “The crooked Maiden”. Over the years the goblin pirate plundered so much gold and riches, he finally rested his sea legs upon the shores of Kash’den, challenged and murdered the king of that time, self promoted himself yet again and ruled the land as he did the sea. Naturally the second oldest of fourty-three siblings, number twelve in ranks of the true brothers, As’Bian’s king was infuriated at the news of his younger brothers death. He marched his vast armies across the land and sea to the thresh holds of Kash’don, proclaiming war.
In what name do you rule? King Mundul demanded.
I do not need a name to rule this kingdom! The pirate answered.
I stand here as the victor of old challenge against the now deceased, But a name is what you demand of me. Then a name you shall have.
The draw bridge slowly desended from the castle walls revealing a nine foot cave troll, holding the leashes of three gragonthaws, roughly 10 feet in length, aching to be set free to devour the flesh of King Mundul and his followers.
The cave troll alone would be devastatingly difficult to bring down. Skin thick enough to fool you into believing it was stone, hands a third of their size – designed for penetrating mountains, and not to mention the strength of twenty goblins, but this cave troll was mastering not one but three gragonthaws! Once Munduls army took notice to the gragonthaws, their armor, Orerosian steel (light and highly durable), had been made of rags, or at least that’s how it began to feel.
Gragonthaws were a rare species at the time. the last three perhaps were leashed to that cave troll; and though only three they were, it would be no easy feat to take down. Their bodies lay low to the ground as an evolutionary trait, due to their soft underbelly, and had Rows of thick plated scales that covered it from head to tail, and naturally sharpened over time. Their heads were designed for blunt force which made it impossible for the use of arrows, but if you could get one to look up high enough, you could sink one or two in its throat. You might fail in killing the beast, but it could keep it’s head from lowering, giving you a slight advantage. The hardest part when dealing with gragonthaws is their tail. The scales on their tails are thicker and sprawl outwards, creating a high range of defense when covering it’s body like a shield. These three leashed gragonthaws however were missing theirs. Highly unlikely a birth defect some might speculate, but instead were cut off soon after capture, to be disected and scales molded into armor. A cruel act upon the creature at first glance, but the gragonthaws other evolutionary trait, grants the gragonthaws the ability to grow another tail. This trait is why they use their tails to take the damage inflicted on them.
King Mundul walked forth and called for challenge of old.
If you called for the challenge of my brother, King Rozzule, then you shall answer to mine!
The pirate king understood the old ways better than most goblins. Before he set foot on a floating vessel, the pirate king was once a bashful youth, living in a small village near the south shores. One night the shores were invaded by a fleet of murderous pirates, that pillaged and took captives for recruiting or, for OTHER means. Most of the people of the village had been slaughtered when they fought back, to enforce power over those that did not. The Young goblin hid under the floor boards by the orders of his mother and father, Listening to the screams and Hollers for help or for lost loved ones, he hid there til morning. Slowly he crept up from under the house and looked over the village in horror. The homes were still intact and untouched with doors and windows shut, without a single mark in sight. A strange thing to first notice when bloodied corpses and the remaining pieces of those who fought back, left pitched aside in a huff. He walked the streets astray, looking for any sign of his mother and father, until he reached the shore line to a frightful sight. Seventeen single massed ships and one, dead center of them all, with three large sails and sixteen canon barrels poking from the hull of the ship. The young goblin watched as the ships raised their sails, hoisted anchors, and slowly drifted with the wind towards the horizon. Except for one. The largest of the fleet still waded in the waters as if catching eye to the young goblin at shore. Swiftly a black flag raised half way up the center mass, and an Orc, with a rather large beard, walked to the starboard side of the ship. There he stood staring back at the village with pride in his smile, then took notice to the goblin, still standing in the sand. The Orc captain lifted his hat of his thick tanned scalp, bowed to the future pirate king, then placed the hat back on his head. The next thing the young goblin knew, he was clunked on the head and woke up in a brig of a ship.
For the next fifteen years, he worked the decks from one ship to another, rising in the ranks of the fleet, gaining the Orc captains trust. At first all he wanted was revenge for the slaughtering of the villagers and his parents but soon became accustomed to the pirate life. He eventually became captain of the Crooked Maiden after the Orc captain retired. Of course when I say “retired” I meant the Orc captain received the dull blade of a vengeful goblin to his back during a battle over territory, on which he learned what challenge of old was. Even though the once young goblin enjoyed the filth of pirating, a chance at revenge well deserved, was a hard thing to pass on.
He mastered the crooked Maiden and everything she had to offer. Sailed from one corner to the next, fighting every pirate captain to demand challenge of old against him, winning all of them, and eventually proclaimed himself “pirate king” when there were no more challenges. He became a legend of the seas and had plundered more riches than he would ever need. So he commanded the crooked maiden and the fifteen fleet no longer, and handed the reigns over to his first mate; a female human that was home in the waters. Challenge of Old- was a way two rulers could fight for the rightful reign of the kingdoms by way of hand to hand combat. The loser kept his life but was banished from both kingdoms. Over the centries the rules had changed. King Rig’gor decided they were allowed the use of an edged shield, and light armor but one must die by the others hand. Eventually this challenge was forgotten accept for those few to whom were taught.
King Mundul awaited for the challenge to be met, standing with a shield smashed into the ground as he removed all his armor. All but the plates going down his left arm. He was properly fit for a king of his age. He Stood just shy of two meters, braud shoulders and thick forearms from gripping heavy weapons for half his life. To look at him for the first time, you would assume this was his first battle. Clean arrmor, no scars or callus or any markings of sorts on his fair green skin. To any other battle born creature, the king would be considered an unworthy foe, and possibly be laughed off the battle field; but The king was no stranger to war and combat. Being raised as a true brother meant he was pitted against the strongest of the clan, to fight on the front lines during the old wars. A horn blew and the cave troll retracted the leashes and wrangled the gragonthaws back behind the castle walls. The pirate king stood above the draw bridge and watched king Mundul remove his armor, then dropped from the wall down to the bridge.
Goblins of this world grow up as fair and sometimes as beautiful, as the the nymphs of the north but once a goblin lives a life of sinned quality, their features and posture reveals the monster from within. The more hainous or wicked a goblin was, their body took on the traits of their actions. All the years pillaging and fighting against the filth of the seas, the pirate king out weighed the king by a hundred pounds and was covered from head to toe with scars and calluses. The pirate king was ruthless and odious as a pirate, Taking no quarter and hanged anyone who challenged him to the side of his ship when they lost, and needless to say… He soon ran out of room. He went from a sweet and charming child of youthful looks, to a two and half meter goblin with a hunched back, greasly black hair, crooked fangs that protruded from his lips, wider than normal pale grey eyes, moist skin that was sticky to the touch, and wildly hairy arms and feet. When he landed on the bridge, the wood cracked and splintered under his weight. He stood up as straight as he could and inhaled deeply before he too removed his armor . All but a thick plated sleeve, that no doubt came from the missing gragonthaws tail.
Where is your shield?! King Mundul asked, already knowing the answer.
The pirate king didn’t respond nor seem to care to who was speaking. He simply adjusted a strap on his gragonthaw sleeve then checked it’s mobility.
King Mundul picked up his shield and began walking towards the pirate king, who was still testing his armored sleeve. The king started picking up speed, from a walk to a light jog. He held the shield opposite of his armored arm tight to his side, a reflex perhaps to block arrows from behind the walls. The pirate king bent forward when Mundul was a few meters from him, then slammed his plated arm down into the bridge, cutting almost completely through. He pulled his hand free and screamed a spine chilling screech before sprinting forward. Mundul looked shocked to see him go from stationary to a complete sprint, barely having time to duck the pirates heavy swung fist. Mundul returned a swing of his own backwards with the shield striking the pirate but What he struck felt like smashing the shield against a boulder, jolting his shoulder and sending electricity down his spine. The pirate swung again and again heavily, aiming for Munduls head and throat hitting nothing but dry air.
If any of those blows land Mundul thought….
The pirate leaped into the air after throwing a jab, in response to Mundul stepping back, and came crashing down on the king. The King raised his shield to block but came up too slow, grazing the pirates fist, slightly ricocheting the punch into his collar. The pain all but vanished as he stepped back further, dodging yet another powerful blow before striking one of his own. The King planted his armored sleeve deep into the pirates gut, releasing the air he had in his lungs. The pirate king reluctantly stepped away still holding his stomach, desperately trying to keep his attempts at gasping for air un-noticed. The King did notice and advanced by throwing his shield, expecting The pirate to dodge or block, but he still stood holding his gut. The shield, with razor sharp edges, sank deep into the flesh of his shoulder and chest, knocking the pirate to the flat of his back. Mundul’s soldiers cheered in excitement to the kings victory by smashing their weapons against their Shields and armor. With the pirate king on his back and Mundul walking over to his body, it seemed they had acquired Kash’den with ease. The King felt cheated in his victory before coming to the conclusion: the pirate was putting on a fasade, and quickly raised his armored sleeve to cover his head and heart. Black tipped arrows in an arch dropped from the clouds, piercing the kings legs, shoulders, and his armored sleeve. The King slowly lowered his arm to see the ground around them, had been littered with arrows and the pirate king, kneeling with Munduls shield held over his head.
You fowl… Fowl cheat! Mundul muttered as he pulled the arrows from his body.
You’ve tipped the arrows as well? He again spoke too quietly for the pirate to hear.
Black oil! The pirate king yelled out. Something I’ve acquired during my stay on the islands.
Mundul threw the remaining arrow he pulled from his leg to the ground, Then readied himself to continue the fight.
You better run along “true brother!” It won’t take long for the oil to render your body motionless.
Mundul knew the pirate spoke the truth about the oils effect, but he was not about to run. He was the king after all. How could a king rule with respect and admiration, along with fear and ferocity if he fled Now?
I have your shield, and gragonthaw armor, and as you can see….
The pirate gestered to his wound which was already healing. Another thing he had acquired during his time at sea no doubt king Mundul thought.
He was correct in that thought. The pirate king had ventured further than any others have sailed he would say. Pillaging, fighting, hunting and even making love on uncharted lands and waters, to creatures of death and passion. Some adventures just paid more in the end.
What chance have you got true brother? How long do you think you have, before I rip your spine from your limp body? The pirate king equipped the shield and raised both arms, welcoming Mundul to come die. King Mundul had already made up his decisive mind and charged with tremendous speeds.
The pirate raised the shield in a mocking gesture but soon came to realize, he was glad he did. The blow from Mundul had dented the shield and pushed the pirate back a few inches, numbing his left hand completely and left a tingle in his crooked teeth. Mundul was upon him quicker than he anticipate, striking the right side of his scarred face, dazing him to a blurried stance, before knocking him clear across the front gate with a single kick. The pirate king went into a rage, something he haddened done since the Orc captains retirement, screaming down to the damned and back to Mundul. He picked up the shield and hurled it at the King, but the King predicted this and reached out, catching the shield mid-flight and pinned the pirate to the ground.
I yield! The pirate king muddered under his breath, but only after he realized the shields edge was pressed against his throat.
Yield?! You yield only after I have won! Mundul pressed the edge even further cutting the pirates flesh, causing him to choke on his breath, but not too far that it would sever anything important.
You will call off the archers and command that beast, to return those armored geckos back to their cages. Then you will kneel and pledge your loyalty to me. Mundul applied the slightest of pressure when the pirate grunted in argument, allowing a trickle of blood bead past the shields edge, then down to the splintered logs of the bridge. The pirate reluctantly agreed to the kings demands, laying flat on his back patiently until mundul released him. Mundul stood up gesturing to be followed, watching and half expecting the pirate to double cross him. The pirate grabbed at his throat as he slowly got to his feet, rubbing some sort of paste over the wound. The wound began to heal and king Mundul, clenched down on the shields handle readying for another fight. In truth the pirate was going to attack the King, but that was before he noticed a jewel dangling from the kings neck, a jewel he had searched for for the past five years.
The pirate stretched his neck once the wound had healed completely, leaving nothing more than another battle mark before raising his naked arm in the air, signalling a cease fire, then kneeled infront of the King. The pirates posture was slack and gave reasons of submission, allowing the King to advance his army.
That jewel you wear… How did you come across it? The pirates voice was hollow and deep, hard to understand at first until you rethink what he had spoken.
King Mundul glanced down to see the tear shaped, violet colored jewel encased in a pocket of silver, and dangled from a gold chain. King Mundul had forgotten it was around his neck, even looking shocked to see it resting against his chest. It must have slipped from its holdings when he removed his armour, or maybe when he was pushing back the pirate he imagined. Either way it had revealed itself in a matter of speaking.
How did you acquire it? I must know. Again the pirate asked but with a slightly demanding undertone in his voice.
You have sailed farther than most have dreamed correct? I’m sure you have things most have never heard of. The King held the jewel in his hand as if to taunt the pirate, even more so when he told him he would never divulge that information to a yielder. The King went to return the jewel behind the collar of his under cloth when the pirate, lundged for the jewel and tore it free from the kings neck.The kings soldiers unsheathed their swords, readied their bows with arrows, and forward piked their spears in response. The King of course commanded them to hault and smiled as the pirate gazed at its beauty.
What do you know about that jewel, pirate?
Munduls voice was gentle at the beginning of his question but slightly cracked towards the end. The pirate king answered but never removed his gaze on the jewel.
It’s a glamour stone. It grants it’s host the ability to alter ones looks, changing to the appearance of their wishes.
King Mundul was impressed but wanted to inform the pirate, he was only partially correct.
The jewel IS a glamour stone this part is true, and it did change the appearance of the beholder, but in order for the stone to work its magic, it must bathe in your blood For more than a standard week. The Kings voice was no longer gentle, but now a menacing growl as he spoke. His body started changing from an un-marked, un-scarred athletic build, to a thick callus skinned monstrosity that stood over two meters. The kings hair, once light but thick and waved in the wind, was balding leaving only a few strands that were matted to his blisterd scalp. His once straight rows of teeth now curled and chipped as the grew outwards. His nose extended an inch or so and came to a crooked point, as well as his ears. The armored sleeve covering his left arm from shoulder to wrist, buckled before the straps snapped and the sleeve fell to the ground. His biceps and triceps doubled in size along with his shoulders and thighs. He was now massive and the holes the arrows created, were barely scratch marks And the black oil had dried to his skin. The jewel had covered Mundul with a shroud of glamour, hiding his true form and creating the illusion that was his former.
Did you really think something as vile and villainous as you, could have been defeated by something as soft as the jewel portrayed? It takes a monster to defeat a monster. A soldier walked over to the goblin king and presented the kings sword as he retrieved the jewel and placed it around his neck. The Kings body turned to dust and was swept away in the wind, leaving the glamoured form reaching for the swords handle.
He commanded his army to storm the gate and kill every armored creature behind those walls, for there will be one kingdom from that day forth. He raised a sword with both hands before giving the pirate a chance to pledge his loyalty and surrender his short lived reign. The pirate kneeled yet again infront of his knew ship captain, raised one arm with a balled fist, and swore his allegiance.
So be it! King Mundul roared then swung the sword downwards, cutting through the pirates flesh, then returned the sword back to the soldier. The King did not let the ones who yield go free unpunished leaving their rotting flesh, as an example of whats to come.
The castle was now in his possession, along with everything inside, including his brothers widowed wife.
What better way to unite to kingdoms without an uprising, then the King (Mundul gestured to himself) and the beautiful queen ( he gestured to the royal widow) to unite in hands of marriage.
The King had climbed the stairs to the royal bedroom just beyond the throne hall, to where the queen was sent during battle. She sat at the edge of their bed, draping her emerald green cape like a cacoon around her frail body. As handsome as the jewel had made him, surely it wouldnt take much convincing to get the queen, to agree on his terms of a solution, maybe even a better way of an outcome for her he might have thought.
The King decided it was best that fear would be her drive to go along with his proposal, removing the jewel from around his neck, and slowly shut the door as he changed to his original form”.
This was (enter name) favorite story but often wondered how the queen, managed to murder the King, especially if he was as clever and as ferocious as he was. His father of course never explained that part, telling his young son (enter name) that is the mystery of the story and leaves the listener wanting more. His father had told (e) grand stories of witches, goblins, trolls, molders and just about anything with pointy teeth and claws; and though he knew they were just stories now, they used to give him wondrous dreams and sometimes, hellish nightmares about the queen, hunting him down trying to strangle him to death. The wondrous dreams out weighed the nightmares, thus giving him the want for more.
Please allow me to hear one more daddy? (e) knew the risk of using “daddy” at the age of twelve but seeing as his father was kind and secretly enjoyed narrating the tales of adventure, he might get the chance to hear another.
It seems your luck has come to an end his father replied. Now is the time for young Troggles to rest.
He pulled the covers to his sons chin, kissed him on the top of his head, then blew out the candle after wishing him a good night.
The following morning (e) woke up from a dreamless sleep, grabbed a chunk of bread and a handful of grapes before setting off on his own form of adventures. Every few days a group of younger boys ( older than him) would sneak off into the woods; and practice magic. They have yet to succeed in casting a single spell but it has become a tradition of sorts, or at least an excuse to chat about some of the younger women of the village. (e) has been working up the courage to ask if he might possibly join in on the fun, even try a few spells of his own. After all, he enjoyed the thought of being a wizard or a warlock, fighting off the demons of mount Raldune while “caressing a princess of beauty and plump breasts. Whatever that means he wondered.
The Young boys with the spotty spells were human and troll, not something that would associate with a Troggle if not forced to. Being the only one of his kind and looking nothing like either halves of his races, with one of those races being the reason for the deaths of thousands during the shapeshifters reign, made it difficult for him to fit in. His father, alongside the elders from time to time, taught him everything there was of the world. At first he thought it was all in good fun being with his father and the elders from day in and day out, but seeing the Young boys playing and laughing at one anothers jokes, made him realize he was missing something. A friend. For as long as he could remember, it has always been his father by his side, but He could not speak to his father the way he might have with those boys, holding his hands out infront of him to show the size of the breasts he might enjoy, or having a slurp of whiskey they stole from their fathers and then hiding it under a semi-hollowed log, to slurp on it again during another traditional night. Some thangs his father was great at, but being a friend was something he could never be.
E watched the boys until the sun had reached its highest point, and knew it was time to head back to help with the live stock. Most of the day E was free to do as he pleased – within the limitations set by his father – as long as he helped with day to day chores. Todays chore was to feed the chickens, the ducks, the horses, and the hogs, which he secretly enjoyed because he was usually alone during that chore. Being alone with an imagination as powerful as his, was like being with everything all at once. He could be a gragonthaw slayer, wearing the armor of invisibility, or a powerful sorcerer that could summon heldeens from the center of the planet, or his favorite, a warrior like his father, holding the stone sword of the north to the throat of the shapeshifter. In reality, the stone sword was the straightest stick E could find, and the shapeshifter was a four hundred pound pig named Red, who didn’t seem impressed. E fed the animals and was just about to leave to help his father with the fence, when he noticed someones shadow, stretching past his left ankle. He turned around rather quickly to see the human boy from the group he watched in the woods, standing with hands on his hips.
I know you’ve been following us. The boy spoke.
I understand you want to be part of the group, but it’s going to take some convincing on your part, in order for a half goblin like you….
The Young boy paused and pointed to E before changing the course of his sentence.
They just don’t like someone joining without going through some sort of trust… Test… Thing.
The boy was taller than E though thinner with shaggy blonde hair, curling at their ends. He had a thin bridged nose that protruded from his face two full inches and almost connected to his upper lip. His clothes were made of average cloth dyed a light tan and pants a dark brown. Both slightly dirt filled from wrestling in the woods. E stood silent while looking to the boy then back to his feet, waiting for him to finish so he could get back to his lonely chores.
The celebration is tonight and I have an idea that will assure your spot in our group. The boy said. If you are still interested?
E wanted to scream how much he was interested, how much he wanted, nay, needed to have friends that accepted him as a “member” of their group.
The boy began explaining his plan and the roll E would play. He was supposed to sit close to the beer tent once the celebration ran into the night, and wait for the boys to enter, while E kept a look out. E really wanted to help, even with the pit in his stomach turning.
Is that a yes? The boy tilted his head slightly to the left and smiled as he waited for an answer.
Yes.
The celebration was held on the day the elders and the few greats, set out on a quest to defeat a waydemon- who had the power to take on any form it could imagine. The celebration was not for the victory in defeating the waydemon, but in the memories of the friends who had sacrificed their lives, so that we could be free of darkness and despair. The elders had a way of exaggerating things once they slurped down a few pints of malted beer and knawed on salted ham. After the festivities had died down from a raging roar to a little holler, the five elders- even in their drunken stuper- would take the stage to perform the ritual of remembrance.
They stood side by side joining hands in their white robes and sashes, bowed their heads and raised their arms to begin their chant. They spoke In an old language and suddenly they were surrounded by a bright glow, slowly rotating around their collective bodies before turning into individual spheres of light. These balls of light reminded E of fireflies, and how he and his father would run the fields catching the tiny insects. The spheres dispersed into the crowd and stopped infront of each person, as if belonging to that certain individual as a spirit guide or protector. Some reached out their palms to allow the tiny ball of light, to land like an old trusted bird would. Others forcefully tried catching the little buggers as if their inner child had awoken. Just as soon as they arrived, the spheres had vanished, in a blink of an eye, gone.
This is the elders magic, fireflies without wings?
An elderly troll mumbled.
Suddenly the spheres popped up in different areas in the town- Transforming Into random bright glowing animals, that danced and frolicked with grace as they jumped from hill to hill.
A rabbit playfully hopped through the legs of young trolls and humans. A doe bound into the night sky, leaving streaks of stars in its wake before landing on the pond, illuminating the waters edge. Some children chased butterflies and small birds, while others watched a grizzly bear sit and wave to passer byes. Everyone seemed to be having fun including the elders. All except for es father, who was standing at the edge of Bandle that over looked the plains. When E was about to walk over to his father, the young Troggle noticed a thick fog rolling in slowly from the west.
What is it father? The young Troggle asked.
No answer was given.
The fog was moving rapidly as it rolled over itself like waves of a tempered sea, smashing down onto the ground just as the next wave emerged over it’s predecessors. At the speed it was going it would have engulfed Bandle within seconds, but it stopped dead in its tracks as if hitting an invisible wall, causing the fog to split outwards and outlining the borders of their little town. The fog seemed to reach the height of the clouds, dimming the moon light as it stretched higher and higher. The invisible wall now looked like an invisible dome, resting on the borders of Bandle, denying the fog entry but allowed it to blanket it on all angles.
The Young Troggle new this fog was abnormal and his gut told him something dangerous was within it; something sinister and fowl spirited, but another feeling, a feeling he had never felt before, allowed him to almost see what was there just behind the thicket. As they stood there, a stag of light created by the elders magic, walked pasted the pond and towards the fog. The stag stopped within a few feet of it, and stamped it’s hoof in defiance. E could see the fog part everytime the stag stamped, as if the fog feared it.
I can see it.” the Young Troggle whispered.
It’s just there waiting. Just out of view but I can see it.
His father grabbed him by the shoulders and instructed him to return to their mound, and made sure the young Troggle, was well on his way before sprinting to the farming shed. He pulling back the hay filled cloth from the floor boards to reveal a small bundle of twigs and twine. He grabbed the bundle and reached into one of the ends, pulled out a small leather wrapping with a symbol of a half and a spear piecing the curve then his father dashed towards the area where the fog first appeared. When he returned, all the animals of light had gathered in a row, meeting the fog head-on with the elders binding together behind them.
I am truly sorry Eli’ja” the elder in the middle spoke when the Troggles father reached them.
“They are here for your son”
How could they have known he was here? his father asked but before anyone could answer, a ground shattering rumble emerged from the fog.
The elders raised their hands in response and began chanting in Elvick (the forgotten language of the Elves) creating a white glow around them. The Troggles father, unsheathed his sword and held it tight to his side, readying himself for battle. The elders continued their chant, expanding the glow around them into the fog and reducing it’s grip around Bandle. The thunderous rumble sounded again and again before dulling into a menacing growl of something hellish.
The oldest of the elders, and considered to be Bandle’s leader, reached one hand higher then the rest and stepped forward towards the fog.
Devil of the high mountains! He shouted.
You’re master will fall again!
The elders chanting came to a halt and the glow around them stopped swirling, instead it looked as if millions of fireflies, hovered motionless without the pawing of gravity to disturb them. Within seconds, the animals of light lost their shape, molding into one another as the fireflies, merged into a sphere of light above the elders opened hand. From within the fog, two burning eyes peered and again, a thunderous rumble sounded followed by the smell of rotten meat.
A Winlox….
Fantasy
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The first line says so much about the world of this story. I immediately know so much which is a great way to get me interested in the story!
This one was interesting. I love these magical fantasy stories and you managed to set the scene from the very beginning. I hope you write more.