I agree with MammonâŚAran, Valhallan (Cool name by the way) you two really brought a shared story to life here. From the browser to the page to us. Thank you for that, we should have more of that in this thread.
Awesome job to you both!
Well, the stories combine and cooperate so well because thatâs what actually happened. Twas a nightmare game with I as trolls and Aran as dwarves. In the beginning of the game he called my attention to a gryphonâs nest that was in danger of the blight and could cause us major problems. It was early game, so I could only muster a bridge witch and a tangle mage to teleport up there.
So I tangled nearby, then bridge witched the undead away. The plan Aran and I formed from the beginning was to lead them away from the nest and the mana pools and lure them up to his crazy strong fortress Ravensspire. I had to really sneak the witch around and it was probably 3-4 days until I could finally wind her way through the plains to Ravensspire, gathering more and more undead in my wake, I bridge witched multiple times â which also happened to give him plenty of time to load up there at Ravensspire.
I pointed out I needed him to clear the way for me at the blighted village or she would die. Luckily it was exactly 2 leagues (max artillery range) from Ravenspire. Then I had undead goblins that had been chasing her and closing in for a couple days and were about to catch her. Aran came through big time! I had forgotten about the goblins he smoked for me. Hahah
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Giant
The sun had reached itâs zenith when Vod the giant saw the Children of Light appear as he peeked over the trees. The sight of the black banners with the white X across it made him frown, the same frown a parent had when their child disappointed them.
He had always admired the human banners before when they graced his one eye. The artistry of the weavers, combining linen and dye to create magnificent tapestries of beauty. During the previous blight, he felt pride marching along the sun of Dawnfort, the noble Gryphon of Gryphonâs Crown, the huntsmen of Sheepsfarm , the Cyclops of the Church and all under the Cunning Fox that united human kind. He enjoyed his smaller kin, the half-giants, marching as they bashed their swords on the one eyed shields.
Despite towering over them, a actual giant amongst menâŚVod felt kinship there.
All giants felt that kinship towards the smaller races. According to the human Church it was God who created the world and created the giants first. They were in heaven at his side until there was some kind of crime that made Him send the giants down to the world and the connected to God was severed. Later the Half-giants and humans and all other appeared, either cast down or placed there. The Giants had adapted to the bleak world and made their homes in caverns and knew to hunt for food and warmth. The smaller races were so small and fragile and many died from the elements, predators and darker horrors that roamed early Alundria.
The first giant, Dama, was a simple giant who was tending sheep when he heard screaming. When he went to investigate he saw a young human family under threat by a pack of wolves. Pity took hold of Damaâs heart and with a furious roar picked up his club and smashed the wolves away. The humans thanked the giant and offered their goods to him. Kind Dama declined and instead taught them to defend themselves.
It did not take long for the other giants to help the smaller races and protected them, taught them how to hunt and defend themselves.
The human texts claim this act of selflessness allowed God to forgive the giants and asked them to go back to Heaven. Dama was chosen as the spokesmen of the giants. When he spoke to Him he declined because humanity and the other races still needed protecting. God was proud to hear this and allowed the giants to go to the After when they passed on.
So Vod, like all giants, followed the path of Dama towards helping their human brethrenâŚbut now it proved to be difficult.
For it was humans who were marching to the elven castle, intend on slaughtering the people inside Vod had sworn to protect. Human, dwarven and goblin refugees from Queensville had fled to the castle when the city was taken and burned by the Children of Light. They were huddled inside the moment the scouts saw the black banners. Vod stood alongside elven assassins, gnomish and human warriors and Tree friends to protect them.
âDo you see them?â a human warrior asked. She bore the different colour pebbles around her neck which marked her as a follower of the spirits, not the human church.
âYes, Captain Hilda.â Vod replied.
âAre there a lot of them?â she asked again. As he nodded she cursed." May the spirit of the raven pick their bones clean after we are done with themâŚâ
Vod turned to her and smiled.â Have faith."
She looked up to the giant, amazed at the kindness the large creature had for her. She could not help but smile back.
The keeper of the castle the half-elf Thorgal, a member of King Halmadirâs court, stepped forward as the elven assassins parted away to make a path for him only to file back when he had passed.
He was a mage of high repute and intend on finding a cure for the Blight plague. He was assisted by the Black Forest Witch but she was nowhere to be seen. Vod snorted at that thought.
âTrouble, Vod?â Thorgal asked as he stood next to the giant. The half-elfâs eyes glowed with a bright unnatural light. Most of the smaller beings found it unnerving, like Hilda who had stepped aside out of respect and/or fear. Vod found it more curious.
âNo. Vod no like Witch not here.â Vod spoke the common tongue as best as he could.
Thorgal nodded." We will manage without herâŚI am more worried about the invading force." he added with no hint of fear or anger orâŚany kind of emotion.
âVod confused.â the giant admitted." Why they here?"
âTo kill all those who are not with the Church.â Hilda spoke out with anger in her voice." They rounded up most of my people in Queensville and put them on pyres."
âLet them try.â a gnome warrior raised his scythe." Iâll chop their kneecap off!"
âDamn zealots, giving the rest of us true believers a bad name.â said one of the Cyclop standard bearers." Theyâll burn in hell for this. God damn them all!"
âMaybeâŚâ one of the Tree friends spoke softly." They only need directions towards the nearest water source? Thy must be awfully thirsty." This got a few glances from those gathered.
Vod turned back to see the army when he saw a sole rider from the black ranks rode forwards holding up a white flag.
âI have a feeling we will find out.â Thorgal replied and moved forward, Vod following.
The rider and the half-elf with giant escort arrived just outside of the clearing where the trees stepped.
The rider was a knight in attire, much like the ones Vod fought alongside during the Blight, however his cloak was black and the white X was smeared on his chest plate and helmet.
Vod overlooked the army of the Children of Light now he was closer. It was a army of peasants, men and women in black robes with crude weapons along with a few warriors, siege equipment, half-giantsâŚand sadly a few of his own kin as well. His own men were better armoured and trained but even so a mob of zealots were still dangerous. Vod began calculating the battle in his headâŚand found the result was not in the defenders favour. They were outnumbered three to one with five giants for him to counter.
The walls of the castle would give them some protection but not for long. Two, three days tops.
âI come here to speak in name of Mother Mercy.â the black rider spoke." Who is in command here?â
He looked to Vod with not a hint of fear in his eyes. A common trait among zealots, Vod found.
âThat would be me.â Thorgal replied.â Who do I have the honour of speaking to?â
The rider straightened.â Sir Havelock of Sheepsfarm. I am authorised by the Mother to speak in her name. Her demands are simple, give us the heretics from Queensville and your lives will be spared. That includes the elf witch as well.â
The half-elf replied without missing a beat.â No.â
Sir Havelock looked confused.â No?" he repeated.
âNo.â Thorgal clarified." These refugees are under my and also King Halmadirâs protection. I will not hand them over."
Havelock protested." But these are heretics! Theyâre the ones who made the Blight!"
âA good thing I am making a cure here then.âThorgal said.â You have my answer, Sir Havelock. I wish you a good day and give my regards to Abigail. Do tell her I am saddend she didnât want to see me herself.â He gave a small bow and walked, Vod following.
The rider shouted behind them." We will come in force! WE OUTNUMBER YOU!"
Vod looked to Thorgal who shook his head. Indeed, ignoring them was the best strategy.
âWhat plan now?â Vod asked when they were back near the castle.
âSame as alwaysâŚI will try to find a cure.â Thorgal replied." With the Orb druid Dagda gave us we are close to finding it. We need more time for that and to relocate the refugees." He looked to Vod." Can I trust you to do that?â
The giant saluted the smaller half-elf.â Vod swear oath.â
The half-elf returned the salute.â May the spirits of the Wilds guide you, Vod."
âMay God bless you Thorgal, son of Thorgal.â Vod returned.
Hours passed as the sun set and rose again when the Children of the Light came. The army of zealots marched through the forest behind their giants. They were just outside of arrow range when they stopped.
Even in the early moments of dawn Vod could see Sir Havelock among their number, urging the masses to fight. The giants were stood in front, the white X painted on their chest. The biggest one who was a head taller than Vod glared daggers at him. Vodâs heart skipped a beat when he spoke.
âYou are a traitor, Brother Vod.â the large giant said in their own native tongue." Unworthy of Dama."
âNo, YOU are unworthy.â Vod countered." Dama would rescue these people from the likes of you."
âThey are heretics! They worship the heathen spirits and consort with the Undying!â the giant grabbed his club.
Vod took up his own weapon." The only heretic I seeâŚ" he pointed it at the giants." Are you five."
The giants busted out in anger and gave a mighty cry. This cry was picked up by the Children of Light who in turn joined. Already Vod could see the Giants becoming more powerful, muscles bulging outward.
He in turn returned the cry as he to grew larger and more muscular. As agreed, the elven archers fired and gnomish traps went off which killed many of the first Children of the Light. When the mob charged, so did Vod and his force. Elven, Gnomish and human steel met zealot hatred as both armies of mortals clashed.
Vod would meet his end today, this he knew, but he would die following Damaâs teachings and save as many of his own as he could.
3 Likes
Inspired to write something after that, Gorvar.
Half-Giants
Itâs true you donât see many around these days, but I actually knew one of them. We had a Half-Giant join our shield wall when we marching on Eagles Vail. Her name was Sanya-she fought as hard as ten men-and drunk as much as fifty-was faster than any of us, and was the bravest woman I ever knew. Told me she was the last of her kin, that they had all been wiped outâŚI didnât hear how, but I donât think it was the Blight that did all of it. Apparently her people had been dying for a long time.
She didnât survive the campaign, no. We meant up Lords Farm with the rest of the Alliance, and she joined the four others of her company. All of them died in the first charge-something about the big trio of Cyclops that had joined our army, drove them into a fury-they smashed into the immortals with their huge shields and swords, chopping and cutting and bellowing-until, they were overrun. Iâm not sure what made them fight so hard. She died before I could ask.
~Aidan Wheelworthy, Human Swordsman, 11th Squadron
As mighty as ten ordinary humans put together, yet less than a quarter of a strength of their larger cousins, graced with amazing agility, cunning and courage-still, the Half-Giants were a slowly dwindling people.
In the ancient days, when mighty Cyclops, both just and cruel, ruled over and protected the smaller races, intermingling between them was much more common, and gave rise to their race-or so their own legends claimed. Cyclops themselves have different tales, as do men. It makes little difference, course-as the Age of the Giants faded, however, so too did they. The great rift that led to man overthrowing their Cyclops rulers, and sending them into the wilds, so too spread to those marked as Half-bloods. Not entirely accepted in any society, solitary by nature, slow to grow, bearing few children, blessed with a Giants deep well of righteous anger, and the heart of a Man-Half Giants were truly a relic of an ancient world, of which nothing remained but the crude, mossy stone circles the Cyclops still gathered at.
As the Blight rolled inexorably over the Humans grassland Kingdoms, Half-Giants began to answer the call to war, perhaps sensing their time had at last come to an end. At first, they merely served in the ranks of swordsmen, known somewhat archaically as âTall Shieldsâ-their imposing strength and size made them natural for protecting the flanks of a human shieldwall, which were by design, itâs weakest point, but such combat took a terrible toll on their few numbers.
As their casualties mounted, they became increasingly difficult to recruit in any numbers significant enough to matter. It was then first noted by the Dwarves that fighting alongside proper Giants seemed to be more natural to them-indeed, it seemed to awake the ancient fury in their blood. Much like Cyclops, who can unlock amazing reserves of Strength when properly roused by the concept of defending numbers of lesser beings, Half-Giants can draw power from Giants themselves. Capable of feats of athleticism considered impossible by either species alone, Half-Giants would served the rest of the war alongside Cyclops and Human armies, usually still armed with heavy shields and massive blades, fighting furiously.
Almost no Half-Giants survived the Blight War, sadly. Facing a slow extinction by the relentless wheels of time, nearly all chose to die fighting the Blight, saving as many as their smaller and greater cousins as they could. It was a point of honor that many Half-Giants were laid to rest in ancient stone cairns, the style of which men had abandoned in building at the time, but which in ancient eras contained the bones of both Cyclops and Men laid together. In time, grave keepers would return to these Cairns, to preserve and beautify them-and eventually, entire human villages, made of the orphans of the Blight War, would often rise around these Half-Giant cairns-along with the Cyclops priests and priestesses, administering to newly renewed flocks, teaching them the ways of the Old One Eyed Gods. Happy children, and lovers young and old throughout the ages, would live in the shadows of the graves of the Half-GiantsâŚ
In time they would be utterly forgotten by all those living, but the stones would remain, slowly gathering moss, and men and women would often wonder what they had stood for.
âŚ
((Iâve seen a bit on the forum indicating that Half-Giants were once a different card entirely, and they were changed-Iâve tried to incorporate that decision here!))
2 Likes
Oh, I like this one!
Liked the fluff at the beginning and the extra info down below.
I donât know much about the history of the card, wish someone can shine more of a light on this
This was the only post I ever found on it. 
I have no idea what abilities they used to have, or even if they different card art. Truly, they have been forgottenâŚ
1 Like
Ask Jay or Penny, they still might have the artwork someplace.
Aw, the Giants are such kindhearted beings stuck between evil midgets. I already got the idea that they were big sweethearts but the religious perspective does add a good reason for this.
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Thanks dude!
To be honest I just went with that angle cuz I needed to find a way to link why humans have a Cyclops for their banner and the fluff suggested that we got pseudo-Christians here with Alundria humans.
But if you want you can write a giant chapter like you said with them being big dopey guys who would die to defend the little humans. 
Now I donât know wherever or not I should continue the Pirate gobbos storyline (Orc slavedriver card) or continue Tim the mage and him visiting the Grays in the Citadel (Pool priestess).
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Personally Iâm looking forward to the slave driver because of the grim realism of it.
And I unfortunately donât really have the inspiration or motivation to write something about the Giants.
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Slave driver it is!
And donât worry man, write about any card you like or a cool match you had!
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For you elf card guys, I think you might get some cool ideas there 
Slavedriver
Row upon row of orcish warriors stood in attention as they were inspected, barely sweating in the arid desert sun. They were lightly armoured, they had no armour to cover their body save a shield and a sword or axe. A chain was around their neck, showing to all their position as warrior slave. They had leather leggings a experienced commander knew those would not stop any arrow or even shrapnel. However what they lacked in armour they made up in scars, war paint and a look only experienced warriors had, those who had seen wars and the horror that came with it.
A large troll with a crown and decked in jewellery walked along them, inspecting each carefully as his cloak bearing a fox on a green field behind him waved behind him.
Beside him was another orc who smiled proudly at his wares as two similar orc warriors marched behind him. He was dressed as a wealthy merchant with a long white fur coat and like his client covered in golden necklaces and the like as well as a green mask shaped like a dragonâs head. He held a whip behind him which he waved up and down as he moved.
âI can assure you, Lord Aziboo, that my warriors are the finest warriors money can buy.â the slaver said.
âI heard that a lot when I talked to previous sellsword companies, Mr Gorvar.â The troll turned to see the orc." So far all theyâve done was getting beaten by a bunch of zealots and leaving my patron high and dry.â
Gorvar smirked.â The difference between a slave and a mercenary is that a slave will die for you when ordered. Coin is strong but the mind is stronger. Also I am certain my warriors surpass any sellsword companies conscript from some back alley." A glint sparked his eye." A demonstration should suffice?"
The slaver stopped and motioned to two orcish warriors to his left." You two, step forward.â
Immediately both warriors stepped forward.
âFight to the death.â Gorvar said. Both orcs nodded before they squared off against one a other. Quick jabs with a sword and powerfull lunges with a axe were deflected by shield or blade.
Aziboo folded his arms as he oversaw the sudden death match.
âMy warriors immediately follow orders without hesitation, third generation slaves do not even understand the concept of freedom.â Gorvar spoke as if he was a proud father.â I had them trained from birth, put a sword in their hand the moment they could walk and had them bloodied when they were finished training."
A hard crash of a shield against a face made teeth fly and blood spill amongst the sand, Aziboo the troll stood unphased. âBloodied against who? The Blight orâŚothers?â
Gorvar gave a knowing grin before he focused back on the duel at hand.
The one who received a shield to the head was fighting with one eye closed, blood dripping from his nostril and mouth. But in his remaining eye Aziboo saw the old orcish bloodlust take hold. He charged forward and slammed his shield against his opponent hard, again and again and again. Splinters flew everywhere as his own shield broke before he jumped on the other fighter and pinned him to the ground.
The other fighter knew he was beaten but still tried to push his brother off. A stab to the arm from his aggressorâs sword severed the last line of resistance. Now he looked more battered than his brother, staring death in the face. Yet he did not look frightened or angry orâŚanything. His aggressor roared in his face, his mouth a ruined visage of teeth and blood. He raised his sword to end it all.
The sword stopped when a crack of the whip hit like a lightning bolt across the sky.
âStop.â Gorvar commanded. And so the slave warrior did. It took a moment for the bloodlust to subside before he helped his brother up and both saluted their master." That will be all, go see the healer." They saluted again before leaving.
Aziboo frowned." You did not let one kill the other?â
The slaver frowned.â Of course not, killing my own property costs money. BesidesâŚyou now know how far your soldiers would go for you when asked." He raised his whip." This is power, Lord Aziboo. Like I said, coin is strong but the mind is stronger."
A hour later both men were seated on a balcony of what once was a human villa that had been repurposed by the orcish hordes. The paintings of the human owners still hung on the walls, faded and covered in dust. Human furniture replaced by orcish rugs and pelts and torches. Previous occupants had once tried to make it a fortress, adding spikes and fortifications but once they found out the villa was built for leisure and not defence, they quickly abandoned further modifications.
Under Gorvar it regained some of itâs luster, several statues with embedded gems were on display around the grounds showing orcish warriors in battle. Most of them were of a orc with a dragon mask, the largest of which was he mounted on a dragon as he wielded a axe and screamed at all those who would oppose him.
Aziboo assumed it was the slaver trying to overcompensate his value in the world by wrapping himself in a façade of culture.
A goblin servant held out a tray with goblets of wine which Aziboo took gratefully, the weather was getting unbearably hot. And yet the orcish slave warriors were still performing drill after drill in the courtyard as vicious sergeants yelled at them. Musicians were playing in the background as to drown out the shouting as a scantly clad troll female was dancing to it, a large brown serpent crawled alongside her as she did.
âI hope you like the wine, Lord Aziboo. Itâs from Wildriver Run. Youâre home I recall?â Gorvar took the other goblet and raised it." To your health.â
Aziboo merely nodded and drank the wine. It tasted nice and sweet, a fruity sensation danced along his tongue. It did taste like the wineâs back home. After several hours of being in his company, the troll found the orc slaver was a shrewd businessman. Using nostalgia and theatrics to dazzle his waresâŚhis slaves. The slaves his friend Harold desperatly needed to win the war against the Children of the Light.
âLet us talk business.â Gorvar spoke first.â Normally a regiment of orcish warriors is about 300 gold. However, because you demanded the best of the best plus a boat to carry it, I thinkâŚ500."
The troll sucked on his teeth, he only had about 600 to spend. âHow much does my patron get for 500?â Aziboo asked.
Gorvar took a sip from his wine before he spoke. âA regiment and a boat.â
The troll frowned." 500 is very steep, slaver."
âYou asked for the best and I give you the best.â Gorvar held up his hands." If you want something cheaper I suppose I could give you some of my gobo slaves. More suited as cannon fodder rather then actual warriorsâŚ"
âNo, a regiment and a ramshackle boat is not worth 500. Not by a long shot.â Aziboo frowned.
Gorvar opened his arms." Make me a offer."
Aziboo thought for a moment." I want the regiment, the boat AND two goblin regiments.â
The slaver raised his brow.â One gobo regiment and we call it at it 550."
âNo, 500 or I walk.â Aziboo placed his glass down." Your choice."
The slaver smirked. âGo ahead then, walk. Not my civil war thatâs at risk.â
His smirk faded when he noticed Aziboo also smirked, showing his white teeth.â Not my company that is going bankrupt.â
The orc frowned. It was true, business was stagnating now most of the orc lands were combatting or were taken over by the Blight. His slaves needed food, water, his employees needed to be paid, his villa needed to remain looking nice and opulent and he needed to have the nearby orcs chiefs and elves on payroll. The last thing he needed was some elven prince riding in on his steed with an army to stop his business. Furthermore his enemies noticed his weakness and were moving in one him and his trade routes. Despite his talk of mind over coin, he needed the latter BAD.
He swallowed his pride and smiled.â 525?â
Aziboo nodded.â Agreed.â
After the contract was signed by both parties, under supervision of a goblin Dealer, Aziboo left with his new army and transport back to Sanctuary.
Gorvar was twirling the contents of his wine glass as the troll serpent charmer rubbed his shoulders.
The goblin servants were clearing out the table in silence as the orc brooded, they knew better than to disturb their master when he was in one of his moods.
He was looking at the statue he had made to honour his ancestor and namesake, Gorvar the Dragon Rider. He was a hero of the First Blight, an orc who had lost his entire clan and family to the Immortals. Instead of throwing himself into a pyre or dying in battle, Gorvar the elder found a way to rise out of the ashes. He climbed to the nearest dragon nest and wrestled one of the wyrmkin into submission. For three days they fought until the dragon, whom the legends called Emberwing, named the orc his master. Together, rider and beast joined the orcs in battle against the Blight and did not only take his revenge but became a warchief, sired a new line of warriors and was named by the shamans as a avatar of the sun.
That was generations ago, now the old bloodline was all but spend. Only Gorvar remained, the head of a falling slaving company.
It could not end like this.
He had crawled up from slave to Overseer, he had schemed and plotted and killed to get this far. At the age of thirty summers he had come to a standstill and no amount of slave armies could change that fact.
He was of the line of Gorvar, he had dragonblood in him. This Second Blight was the perfect opportunity to rise to glory again but howâŚHOW?!
He inhaled deeply and caught the scent of the troll female. The smell of her sweat and scent enticed Gorvar,
It was frowned upon to lay with other races, orcs were meant to be kept pure from the other races like the sun had made them. But he didnât care, even if he sired a trollok.
He sighed and held the hand of the serpent charmer for a moment." I will need your full services later." he said. She merely nodded and continued her ministrations.
He leaned back and tried to enjoy his wine.
âSir?â one of his goblin servants called. A crack of a whip later the creature lay on the ground, crying as he held her eye. Everyone, even the serpent charmer, jumped in the air and stepped away.
He shouldnât have reacted that way, but he didnât care. He knew that most of the gobos in his household were spies for the other crime lords, including the one he just struck. It would come back to bite him in the ass, but at the moment he didnât care.
âWHAT DID I SAY ABOUT BEING DISTURBED?!â the slaver cried out annoyed. When he did he noticed another goblin had entered the room. This one was not one of his servants. He was dressed like a pirate, a shit eating grin on his lips as he stepped over the crying servant." Lord Gorvar, Iâve come to bargain.â
Gorvar raised his brow.â Captain LunaticeâŚwhat are you doing here?â
The pirate took out a vial from his belt. Gorvar peered closer and saw the small vial had a sickly green glow around it despite it being encased in glass.
âBusiness, old pal.â Lunatice replied.â Your old boss still hanging around?"
The two walked down towards the wine cellar, the goblin servant from before in front holding a torch, where it was nice and cool despite the blistering heat above.
Kegs of wine were left and right of them, kept cool. But those were not the only things in there.
There was a hole in the ground where a lone figure moved in the shadows, the sound of flies buzzing around their ears. Moans and shuffling came from it, the sounds pitiful yet horrifying. As they came closer the light slowly revealed itâs occupant.
The creature was once a orc, the green skin gone gray, the smell of black death on him and the ravenous look on hunger in itâs dead eyes. Several bones and rotting body parts were strewn around the hole.
When It saw the three, it turned towards them and slowly shuffled over.
âHere he is, the late Boss Ushnotz, formerly of the Dragon Brigade.â Gorvar said." Exactly where we left him." He looked down to see his oldâŚcolleague.
The pirate goblin nodded." Good." he uncorked the vial.âNow, look at this.â
Before Gorvar could reply, Lunatice tossed the vial into the hole.
The green smoke doused the hole as the creature looked confused around itself.
The orc slaver frowned.â The hell do you thi-â
âUshnotz of the Dragon Brigade!â Lunatice shouted." ATTEEEEN-SHUN!"
The creature froze for a moment, like a deer when it caught a scentâŚand then stood erect before saluting.
âForwaaaaaaard, MARCH!â Lunatice cried and the ImmortalâŚdid.
The slaver blinked as the goblin servant gasped with disbelief as the undead orc marched around the hole, much like he did in live.
âBy the sunâŚâ Gorvar muttered." What was that stuff?â
Lunatice folded his arms.â That, my old friendâŚbelonged to the Undying."
âThe who?â Gorvar raised his brow.
âThe Undying, human cult that know how to command the Blight. Me and the Rat Pack managed to capture a lot of them. Stole some of their vials, figured out how they workâŚthey havenât spilled the beans yet how to make it butâŚwell, that is why I came to you.â Lunatice nodded to Gorvar, a devilish look in his eyes." You know how to break people."
The orc slaverâs mind went thousands of miles per hour. To be able to control the largest threat to Alundria, to have the dead fight for youâŚit would make him a hero. It would make him rich. Very powerful. On par with Gorvar the Dragon Rider.
But he kept focused." The Grand Alliance disallowed necromancyâŚwhat if they ask me how I got this research or these prisoners?"
Lunatice held up his hand nonchalantly." Tell them the truth, say you found a couple of Undying and made them tell you. Think about it, my friend. You have the way to stop the 100 years war against the Second Blight. You havenât been outside of Oasis much or itâs to test your slaves but honestly. nearly every region of Alundria has been blighted at least once. The people life in fear, day after day. You could be a hero. You just need to find a way how to package it first."
Gorvar nodded. Quickly he picked up his goblin servant who dropped the torch as she squealed in pain.
âSo can I give it commands as well?â Lunatice nodded to this. A cruel smile danced on Gorvarâs lips as he dropped the female goblin down in the hall, in the middle of the marching immortal going circles.
âPlease, no!â the servant cried." Mercy! I wasnât going to betray you my lord, I swear!"
"Tell that to the 300 gold I lost last month because of your treachery. Ushnotz, kill.â
The Immortal stopped marching and immediately lunged for the goblin female. Her death screams filled the wine cellar as the sounds of something eating messily and breaking of bone slowly took over.
But by then the two others had left the cellar and were moving upwards again towards the light.
The orc pondered.â And what does the hero need to do to get all of this?"
Lunatice smirked and gave his terms.
It was night time when he poured himself in another glass. Lunatice has left a hour previous with the arrangement made. The Rat Pack would receive a few more ships for their fleet and a safe harbour under Gorvarâs protection, plus some coin. In return he would receive the Undying the gobos had caught along with any more of the green vials they had salvaged.
It was a good deal, he trusted Lunatice. Were it not for him, he wouldâve still been a slave under Ushnotz and Lunatice still a prisoner.
As he drank his wine, the cool sweet taste that slid down his throat, he looked to the statue of his ancestor.
He was perhaps not a Dragon Rider like his ancestor, but he would be just as powerfulâŚand just as feared.
âMasterâŚâ the serpent charmer laid down on his bed, the rugs of camels covering her modesty as she winked her finger to beckon him over.
The slaver finished his drink before he went back to his bed and kissed her deeply.
Now was a good a time as any to sire a new line of warriors. Be it orc or trollok.
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Ah, poor Ushnotz. Like many, he too must have fallen to the undead at one point.
Nice story, Gorvar, I enjoyed this one the most of your saga. And your own legacy begins with this one too, I found it a most dubious choice youâd choose to be a slave driver, but now there appears to be history in the making.
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Thanks man!
I admit I like character arcs and several storylines meeting each other. Aziboo from my Cowardly Noble story and Captain Lunatice of the Goblin pirate one. It gives Alundria a bit more of a lived in feel. Deffo if you add in legends and such.
I would love to write more Gorvar chapters in the near future. Orcs and Dwarves are my fav races in most fantasy
Also thank you for reading my story man. Not many would read it.
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I was planning to do Gryphon Riders for the next one unless someone has a better suggestion?
What about the Hydras?
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âŚI can do that.
Hydraâs need love.
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That has to be the title
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Will try for Tuesday.