Jaernok Tur
of the Drelek Mountains were capped with snow that time of year. They were hardened, rugged mountains, and their rocky faces proved fatal to outsiders with little experience. Bones were found at the bottom of many crevasses, where unwary wanderers had lost their footing or grip and plummeted to their demise. From the air, none of those problems were a concern. Karnak always thought the mountains looked like a sea of teeth from his current altitude. He patted his wyvern on the back of the neck and began his descent.
Karnak had always been more comfortable in the sky. It seemed to him he was able to do more from there; certainly, height was an advantage. As his steed adjusted its wide membranous wingspan to shift downward, Karnak grabbed the hilt of his throwing axe, Dalkeri. The double-edged axe had been passed down his family line for generations. Ancient runes from a long dead language ran along the sides of the blades and down the large handle. A small stone glinting sunset orange accented the center of the powerful weapon. The axe was larger than most, but then again, Karnak was larger than most orcs. Perhaps that is why he had been given his position. Others seemed to respond to his size. He had also been a good soldier and had proven himself in battle again and again. So, maybe that was it.
Whatever the reason for his advancement, Karnak was not entirely comfortable with his new position. He did not doubt his abilities in battle, nor did he doubt his ability to lead soldiers. His discomfort arose from the fact that those who worked in close proximity to the king tended to disappear.
His wyvern, Ker, leveled out as they approached the castle of Ruk. The castle was not conventional to those outside the area, but it was similar in design to all the other forts in the Drelek Mountains. Ruk was the largest of all their steads, and rightly so. It was the king’s castle, and many of the joint goblin, orc, and troll operations were planned, prepared, and launched there.
The castle itself was carved directly into the side of the mountain Ruk. All orc castles and forts received their names from the mountains that housed them. Great stone archways and windows peppered the face of the mountain. Many of the archways had small landing areas for wyvern-riding orcs and goblins to enter. Most of them were guarded by armed goblins, but one large archway was guarded by two massive, heavily armed trolls and a whole troop of goblins. That was the king’s personal entryway. Having been summoned by the king, Karnak was to use his entry.
Only two ground paths to the castle of Ruk existed, the road to the north and the road to the south, both of which wrapped around the mountain on the western face where the castle resided. As Ker glided past the south side of the mountain, Karnak raised a massive orc finger to his brow and bowed his head slightly. He gazed upon the ruins of the original castle of the mountain. Almost no archways of the old castle remained unbroken. Charred stone and rubble covered the mountain face, results of the Second Great Black War. Many goblins and orcs had been lost in the castle as a result of cave-ins, having been buried in their eternal tombs in mere moments within the mountain. Many of the archways on the western face got their beginnings from goblins and orcs who dug themselves out through walls at the ends of tunnels during that time.
The goblins and orcs had learned, however, and reinforced many secret tunnels out of the castle in case of emergencies or attacks. In fact, they had implemented similar tunnel systems in all their forts and castles throughout the Drelek Mountains. Goblins were crafty engineers and made quick work of the maze-like tunnels. Karnak grunted and shook his head in amusement. Goblins. He didn’t care much for them.
Not many goblins traveled to his home fort. Goblins preferred the dark, but Karnak’s home, Calrok, was on the eastern edge of the Drelek Mountains on the coast. It was nestled in a valley cove with mountains surrounding it to the north, south, and west and the Gant Sea to the east. Occasionally, a goblin troop would visit the orc fort and city for various business purposes. Most often for the fish supply. The sun shone often there, and his people, a predominately fishing community, lived heartily in the light of day.
The journey to Calrok was not a particularly easy one. There was only one mountain road by which to get there, the road that followed the Irk River through the mountains to the Gant Sea Narrows. Calrok had developed a somewhat peculiar culture of its own because of its isolation from the rest of the kingdom. Growing up on the sea made the women tough and the men strong and dependable soldiers; not to mention, they were orcs who had a certain affinity for the sun and the sea. The Scar Cliffs to the north of the port city made great flight training grounds for wyverns and their riders. As a result, Calrok wyvern warriors were among the best in the kingdom.
Ker methodically lifted her wings to slow their approach and gently brought them to a landing on the stone pad of the King’s Archway. Karnak hoisted himself out of his saddle and brushed his hand along her elongated and scaly neck as he made his way toward the large corridor. “Good girl,” he thanked her as he reached her head and patted her snout, easily avoiding the myriad of small horns on her head. After a moment, he turned to his greeters.
The trolls towered above him, each about twice his height. Their armor was light, as trolls had extremely tough hides and any armor they did wear lay awkwardly limp upon their shoulders. One of the trolls was the obvious elder. His skin was more wrinkled and grey, and he had creases on his face so thick his eyes were barely visible. The long, crazy, white hairs of his brow and his beard blew sideways in the wind.
He took one giant step forward and addressed Karnak. “Who be goin’ thar?” His bushy brows wrinkled and crawled curiously like a giant white caterpillar; his large nose scrunched; and his mouth twitched as he inspected the orc.
“Greetings,” Karnak started, trying to be cordial.
“Gratins?” the old troll barked back, astonished. His eyebrows raised just high enough for Karnak to see his old, silver eyes. “The king ain’t spectin’ no Gratins tis day! What be yer? Liar? Teef? Sassin?”
The old troll raised a shaky spear to Karnak, suspicion dripping from his overly hairy pointed ears. At that, Ker made an audible warning, riling up to protect her master. Karnak took a step backward, placed one hand on the throwing axe in his belt, and extended the other to quiet Ker.
“My name is Karnak, Gar of Calrok! I’m no liar, thief, nor assassin. I’m here at the beckon of King Sahr!”
“Karnak?” the old troll spat back. He chewed the words, mumbling to himself. “Why dincha say dat, young Gar?” The large old troll’s demeanor relaxed, and he turned to the younger troll, who hadn’t moved the entire time, and said, “Stand ye dowrn.”
The younger troll shook his head in embarrassment and apologetically motioned for the orc gar to proceed. Karnak reached over and patted his trusty wyvern on the head one more time and moved past the two trolls into the corridor. As he did, he heard the old troll mumbling to the younger, who listened indifferently.
“I ain’t ever heerd no bodies called Gratins afore ...”
Karnak surveyed the scene as he advanced. At least four dozen goblins lined the corridor, running its length to the large door at the end. They stood two deep, and each was heavily armored and bore a long spear and sheathed straight swords. Karnak didn’t like swords; he preferred his axe, Dalkeri. Its magic had served him well in many battles and struck down many foes. He wouldn’t trade it for anything. But goblins were goblins, and they had their preferences, too.
Goblins were inherently smaller than orcs, but being a bigger orc, Karnak stood a good two heads above even the tallest of goblins. They were also paler. Spending a majority of their time in darkness or underground, they had little exposure to the sun. Karnak’s deep green, sun-exposed skin contrasted noticeably as he walked between the goblin ranks.
Behind the rows of goblins on either side of the corridor were stables. On one side he saw a couple of stable hands cautiously attempting to feed a particularly difficult wyvern. The goblins struggled to raise the bucket to the feeding hook as the wyvern toyed with them. When they almost had it, the wyvern rocked the gate, knocking one goblin off balance and sending him to the floor. The other goblin couldn’t hook the bucket by himself and lost his grip. The bucket fell on the head of his partner, and chum splattered all over him, spilling onto the floor. Karnak chuckled softly and shook his head.
Goblins ...
Two armored goblins worked together to heave the enormous entry door open before him, and another guided him through the tunnels toward the throne room. The tunnels were surprisingly well lit by numerous torches that lined the walls. Between the torches on small stands, obscure stone-sculpted gargoyles stared at the passing pair. The gargoyle’s eyes seemed to watch them as they walked by. Karnak took a deep breath in the stuffy tunnels and pressed onward.
“The throne room is just past ’ere,” the goblin guide explained, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. “Don’t be makin’ a fool of yerself in front o’ the king now, orc,” he snarled with a slurp and a laugh.
Karnak stopped in his tracks. He looked down at the goblin and stared. He said nothing, only stared. The disconcerted goblin slowly slinked away, back down the hallway, never able to look away from the enrapturing stare of the mighty orc.
Karnak turned toward the door with a smirk on his face, shaking his head again.
Goblins ...
The throne room in the castle of Ruk was enormous. The cavern ceilings stood high enough that several trolls standing on each other’s shoulders would barely be able to touch the stalactites that clung there. Time had finely crafted the stalactites into sharp teeth pointed menacingly toward the floor far below. The goblin engineers gouged holes high on one side of the great cavern to allow indirect sunlight to illuminate the large open space. These light windows were so well disguised it was nearly impossible to see them outside the mountain. The great cavern sloped slightly, and stairs had been carved into the bedrock that led to the highest area in the cavern where the throne was perched. The lower level held long tables. That was the Great Hall of Ruk, where celebrations and feasts were held, something the king was known for. The hall’s splendor did not disappoint the stories of its grandeur.
King Sahr, a particularly ugly orc, sat on his cold stone throne. His one good eye danced around the large cavern as though he were pondering something intensely. He muttered to himself as a small, sniveling goblin attendant stood next to the throne. The goblin’s knees knocked together, and he was visibly shaking.
“Sire—,” the attendant squeaked out.
“Raghh!” The king whirled in his seat and grabbed the small goblin by the throat. The two guards suddenly stood straighter and tried to avoid eye contact. The attendant wept and struggled with all his might to catch his breath, groping at the far more muscular arms of the king.
The king stared crazily at the attendant’s pleading eyes until the door to the left of the throne creaked open. He turned his gaze to the door to see the large orc gar slip through the doorway. The king dropped the helpless attendant to the floor and turned to greet the orc.
“Gar Karnak! Welcome! Welcome!” he hacked, raising his hands wide open. “Please do come forward!”
A whimper escaped the attendant, who was trying to stand and regain his composure. King Sahr angrily swiped a backhand at the goblin’s face, sending him sprawling to the floor again. “Leave us!”
The attendant hurriedly scampered out of the throne room through the door opposite Karnak. The orc approached the king, placed a large finger to his brow, and bowed low. “Karnak, Gar of Calrok, Son of Plak, at your request, High King Sahr!”
“All the formalities,” the king snorted with a dismissive wave of his hand, coughing again. “Come, friend. Let’s talk.”
Karnak lifted his eyes and marveled at the cavern’s enormity. The echo of the king’s words settled far on the other side of the great hall. The windows made the cavern glow eerily. Normally, dozens of torches lit the great hall, but the only ones ablaze were the few around the throne.
The king stood and walked around Karnak, looking him up and down. He mumbled to himself and, when he had finished his inspection, murmured, “Very good.” He straightened himself in front of the large orc and placed a grubby hand up on the orc’s thick shoulder. “I trust you know why you’re here?” He rasped, staring intently into the orc’s eyes.
“Your herald has informed me you wish me to join in the war council as one of your commanding generals,” Karnak replied directly.
“Yes, yes!”
King Sahr blinked crazily in anticipation of Karnak’s response to the promotion. As Karnak drew in a breath to reply, a chill crept across the room. While goblin homes in the caves are normally cool, Karnak was used to living in the sun in Calrok. This chill, however, was unusual; Karnak felt its ice in his bones.
As if forming from pure darkness, a figure slithered out of the shadows. The figure pulled back the hood of his cloak as he strolled toward Karnak and the king. As he approached, the darkness followed in his wake. Instinctually, Karnak gripped the belted axe in his right hand, prepared for anything.
“Ah, Jaernok Tur!” the king noted excitedly. “I am glad you’re here!”
Jaernok Tur acknowledged the king with a slight bend at the waist in the direction of the king, never taking his scrutinizing eyes off Karnak. A strange hue shimmered about him, almost like the black sheen of a raven. When he spoke, whispered echoes seemed to follow his words. “Gar Karnak, it is good you have come.”
Unsettled and still undecided as to what kind of sorcery he was witnessing, Karnak relinquished a greeting. “Jaernok Tur. Forgive me, I do not know your family.”
“Oh,” King Sahr interjected. “Our friend Jaernok Tur is from the lands beyond the Gant Sea Narrows. He has pledged his service and that of his people to us.”
“Aye, but does he bear the right and responsibility to pledge such loyalties?” Karnak questioned, not letting his gaze afford the sorcerer a moment’s respite.
“His family is quite prosperous in his lands, and they rule over nearly the entire continent,” the king stated with a longing in his eyes.
“I am quite capable of explaining myself to the young gar, my good King,” the sorcerer said, placing a large stone claw on the king’s shoulder.
Karnak didn’t like the familiarity and comfort Jaernok Tur showed in the presence of the king but was more struck by the sorcerer’s stone arm. He was no ordinary orc. As Karnak studied him, he noted that the sorcerer’s skin had a scaly texture to it, something he hadn’t noticed at first due to the strange hue. His dark robes shrouded him exceptionally, and his eyes seemed to exude the same dark hue as the obsidian black stone at the pinnacle of the sorcerer’s staff. Jaernok Tur turned his back to Karnak and walked to a table a few feet away.
“My family is quite powerful, indeed,” Jaernok Tur began, pouring glorb, a putrid beverage and the goblin alternative to ale, into a goblet on the table. “In fact, our influence spans the entire continent of Kelvur, ‘the lands beyond the Gant Sea Narrows,’ as the good king called it.”
He handed the king the goblet, who took it and continued to stare into space, seemingly entranced by the story he already knew. Jaernok Tur approached Karnak and motioned with his stone hand toward a clear area on the floor. With his right hand, which appeared to be entirely normal to Karnak, the sorcerer did a flick twist and conjured a shadowy green smoke from the air. Karnak instinctively stepped backward. The sorcerer painted moving images on the floor as he continued his tale.
“A long time ago, our people were all one race. At that time, we lived peacefully in the dark of our caves. We grew as a race and flourished as new generations rose. We were a contented people, with great underground cities, and we enjoyed a lively culture. But the greed of dwarves knows no bounds. Our halls were filled with raw materials, gems, and metals the dwarves coveted for crafting.
“Our people knew nothing of the outside world, and the dwarves offered unique treasures to rob us of our birthright. While the young generations were intrigued by the treasures and peoples of the outside world, the elders and shaman of the day warned against them. Eventually, their worried prophecies became reality. A group of young orcs was slaughtered, and in rightful outrage, our people rose against the dwarven intruders. Our ancestors attacked several of their mining cities that were built far too close to our home. But the alliances of the dwarves extended farther than we knew.
“More surface dwellers came to the aid of the dwarves, and within weeks many of our underground cities were overrun. Our race was on the verge of extinction. But then, as if remembering something long forgotten, the elders and shaman reached out to the magics within the stone that surrounded them and called upon the ancient high dragon Kilretheon the Red. He answered their cries and rose from the fiery pits of Malkra to rescue his people. He led our people to victory over the surface dwellers and drove them back out into the light. The safety of the darkness was ours once more.
“But Kilretheon warned our elders that it was not over. The surface dwellers would not soon forget their defeat, and they would return for vengeance. So, he sent troops comprised of the three races (goblins, orcs, and trolls) to build upon and conquer the lands across the seas. Thus, your direct lineages began here on this continent.”
Karnak was kneeling, watching the smoke show. He sat quietly, digesting the information. Nothing about the mode of the revelations sat well with him, but he had not witnessed a magic such as it. As the images faded, he slowly stood and turned toward Jaernok Tur. The sorcerer stared at him with a wicked grin scrawled across his face.
“Over the last centuries, our people have made a complete recovery, and our might has grown to all the reaches of Kelvur. We eliminated all who opposed us, and the time has come for us to aid our brothers beyond the reaches of Kelvur. Tarrine is next. And then perhaps, all Finlestia!” Jaernok Tur said jovially. “And you, Karnak, Gar of Calrok, Son of Plak, will have the honor of helping us lead this inquisition!”