Before returning to the alien plane of the Sarkrith, Gorfang and Eloy agreed that the potential threat of invasion from Kîshshul had to be countered - or at least delayed. Rather than any form of aggressive action, they decided to simply pay Gorfang's neighbors a visit....
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Before setting out, Eloy took some of his mithril and left it with one of Gadûhvrás' best smiths, with instructions to make him a mailshirt from it. He'd have preferred a mastercrafted set Dragonforged like Gorfang's, but Lynnil Mastersmith was nearly a year dead in the agony of Vorsand and there wasn't time to seek out another smith of his abilities.
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After three days, Eloy was more than glad that he'd allowed Gorfang to persuade him to ride double on Shamlakh instead of taking his own horse. The mountain tracks that passed for roads in the northern Erean were steep, crumbling and precipitous; only a mountain creature like a warg could have safely traveled them. More than once Eloy found himself clinging to the huge canine's fur as he leaned out from the mountainside, gazing down into the blue depths of a ravine at the distant twinkle of a tumbling stream, and gritting his teeth against the vertigo.
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Towards afternoon, as they circled a spur, Shamlakh stopped so suddenly that both his passengers had to grab sharply to avoid going over his ears. "Something up there," he growled, "not orc or warg." Gorfang and Eloy readied weapons and dismounted, advancing cautiously. All of a sudden, a section of cliff ahead of them suddenly detached itself and advanced towards them, revealed as a lean humanoid figure nearly twenty feet tall and with skin the colour and texture of the rock around them. Gorfang 's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Stone giant!" he muttered.
Eloy braced himself, ready to fight or - probably more likely - run away, but the creature did not attack with the ten-foot club in its right hand. It halted before them and gazed downwards, pale silvery eyes interested. "Orc, warg and man," it rumbled. "Where are you going?" Gorfang bristled. "That's none of your business." he stated calmly. The mighty stone head shook slowly. "I rather feel that it is," said the giant. "I am Aranbar, Watchman of the Western Marches of Kîshshul. Do you come in peace?"
"Do you see an army?" asked Gorfang, glancing around. The giant gazed at him for a long moment. "Debatable," it finally said in a dry voice. "I come in peace," said Gorfang, "how I leave is up to your masters." Eloy chipped in. "How does a giant like you come to be guarding the borders of an orc kingdom?" he asked curiously. Aranbar eyed him calmly. "My family has an arrangement," he said. "I will escort you to the gates of Kîshshul.
 DM Note: It's 10 days from Gadûhvrás to Kîshshul, not 5, so dates are amended. |
As they made camp that evening, Gorfang and Eloy spoke in more detail with the giant, who had proved a convivial enough companion on the road; definitely more than just another Stone Giant. Little seemed to have changed in the great city of the orcs since Gorfang had left there - hurriedly - a little over five years ago, at least little that Aranbar was willing to tell them.
Once Eloy the proud father started talking about families and working around to his own new arrival, Gorfang rolled over and went pointedly to sleep. Aranbar was welcome to all that, but he was damned if he was listening to it again. Eloy and the giant chatted on as the swift nightfall of the mountains drew in around them, Eloy building as much of a rapport with the huge creature as he could. They might need it...
The three travellers stood and looked down from the ridge towards the open ground before the gates of Kîshshul. Like all the ancient orc fortresses, Kîshshul was mostly an underground warren of passages and chambers bored and tunnelled into the rock for miles around, with the core under a mountain and the main gates at the foot of that mountain. Before those gates was a large, open area - some parts cleared by labour - and groups of orcs, trolls, wargs and ogres were dotted about, training.
At the far side stood three huge menhirs, marking the place where Hildraft Vabgas Bogadun and Sack had opened the magical gateway through which the orcs of the Erlyid Empire had first returned to their ancestral home.
Descending from the pass, the three reached the valley floor and began to cross it towards the gates. Even though the orcs of Kîshshul had opened trade relationships with their neighbors over the last forty years, most of it was conducted on neutral ground and it was a rare human that had the courage to journey to the heart of the Kingdom of the Orcs. It was therefore Eloy who attracted their initial curiosity; but as they passed through the groups of soldiers, urgent whispers ran ahead like fire. "It's who?" "It can't be," "I thought he'd be taller", "He wouldn't come alone, though - where's his army?"
Halting before the massive gates, Aranbar looked down at the two smaller humanoids. "Here I will hand you to the gate guards," he said, "I will be here till morning. If you return by then I would enjoy your company on the return." He didn't sound very confident that they would be joining him. Turning away, Gorfang addressed himself to the guards on the gate. "I am Gorfang Deathdrinker, Master of Weapons and King of Gadûhvrás," he declared. As the guards' mouths dropped open, Eloy settled himself for a long day of repetitions of the same reaction.
Four hours later, the two had risen slowly through the heirachy of the mighty fortress, moving from guards to lieutenants to battle leaders, finally to warlords and advisors to the King. Through it all, Gorfang had remained patient and equable, his stated objective of staving off a war between the two cities holding for the time. This was the final hurdle - the doors into the King's Hall. Heavily-armoured guards flanked the massive stone doors, through which the travellers could see a second identical set. This was the famous Bladelock, a complex mechanism built of stone that ensured only one set of the doors could be open at any one time. A mailed hand was raised towards them, palm forwards. "Halt!" stated the guard. "No one may approach the King armed. Leave your weapons here." The pair glanced at each other. "We will leave them with my attendants," said Gorfang, and marched back around the corner. Eloy glanced at him. "Do you mean me?" he asked. Gorfang grinned and tapped his Bag of Holding. "No," he said, "these."
Ten minutes later, the pair walked back around the corner of the grim stone corridors and approached the Bladelock once more. "There we are," said Gorfang, "unarmed as requested. I am ready to see your King." The slight stress on your caused brows to rise behing helmets but the guards showed the pair into the windowless chamber and hauled the doors shut. Slowly the far set opened, and Gorfang and Eloy looked for the first time on the thronehall of Kîshshul. Long rows of black columns marched from where they stood to the limit of even Gorfang's sight, each apparently rooted in fire - a flat baisin of stone around the base filled with some flammable fluid and set aflame. Overhead, a great vaulted black ceiling was marked with regular mounted spears, each with an impaled victim on it, some fresh, some no more than very dry bones held together by archaic armour. Below each dangled a banner or other trophy from some long-ago victory. Between each pillar stood three guards, tall heavy uruks, their blood-red mail declaring their dedication to the orc war-god Ilneval. These were the Red Guard, the King of Kîshshul's personal bodyguard.
At the far end was a dais of many steps, atop which stood a heavy obsidian throne. Seated on this was a strong-looking orc in his middle years, flanked by several orcs in good armour - generals, thought Gorfang, as one flipped the map on the table over to conceal its' contents - and one with the Red Eye of Grummsh blazoned on a black tabard. Damn, a priest he added to himself. Strange sensations were stirring in his breast as he marched between the columns, the ancient halls of his savage ancestors calling out to the elemental orc within him.
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Reaching the steps to the dias, the two stopped and Eloy bowed courteously to the King of Kîshshul. "Gorfang Paugurz," said the King, "and the human Eloy Brackensen. Interesting. I am Luzmarz Maurson, King of the Orcs. These," a flick of his wrist, "are my generals, and this," a far more courteous gesture, "is my priest of Grummsh, Senterno." The glowering look Senterno directed at Gorfang betrayed that he knew well who he was and what had passed between him and Grummsh in Nasirolan. Unpeturbed, Gorfang urged the King to sit with them and talk, and Luzmarz dismissed his generals and ushered the two into a side-room with an ancient stone table carved from the living rock at the centre. Senterno followed, and as they sat down Eloy offered him one of his pendant dragon-tooth necklaces. Senterno's face was like stone as he gazed back, ignoring the 'offer'. Maybe news of more than Gorfang's encounter with Grummsh was filtering out...
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"Why should we go to war?" asked Gorfang bluntly. "There is enough for both of us. You are doing well, but you have only taken back a fraction of your city. It's the same for me. A war would simply set orcs as a whole back generations; both cities would lose half their population - " Senterno broke in. "My King!" he barked, and there was some doubt as to whether the implication was 'king of me' or 'king I own', "do we really need to listen to this? This heretic bandit chief with his few dozen renegades?" Luzmarz tilted his head. "He has a point," he said, "you're outnumbered five hundred to one."
Gorfang grinned his merciless fighting smile. "I think your maths is lacking," he said quietly. "Feel free to recount as they swarm you under!" snapped Senterno. Gorfang ignored him, speaking to the King. "None but a fool fights on two fronts. Together, we could war on the humans instead!"
| DM Note: Epic Bluff result for Eloy here. Convincing, for the short term at least... |
Mention of humans stirred Eloy. He coughed politely. "May I speak?" he asked diffidently. Luzmarz gestured. "Speak," he said. The Man in the Shadows leaned forward. "Seems to me, as an outsider," he began, his voice rich with the persuasiveness for which he was infamous, "you have two great nations here. They would be stronger together against those they fight." Luzmarz gestured for him to continue. Eloy indicated his companion. "Why would Gorfang come here, alone, if not for a genuine offer of peace? He doesn't want conflict - " Gorfang silently took exception to this but showed nothing - "he'd sooner work with you for the good of both realms." Luzmarz was quiet, pondering Eloy's words. While he did so, Eloy turned to Senterno. "Would you like to meet my God?" he asked. "I would like to step on your God's neck," retorted the orc. "I'll try and arrange it," chuckled Eloy, unworried by the outcome.
"I respect your abilities," said Luzmarz to Gorfang. "I knew your great-grandfather." Gorfang blinked. "Is he still here?" he asked sharply. Luzmarz shook his head. "Not as far as I know," he said. Eloy looked from one to the other, but the story of the vampire Skulluckghor was a tale for another time.
Gorfang stood. "It has been a pleasure to visit your city," he said. Senteno shot to his feet. "You're not letting him get away?" he cried. Gorfang looked Luzmarz in the eye. "Would you like me to fight him?" he asked calmly. The ghost of a smile crossed Luzmarz' face, and he gestured to Senteno to be quiet.
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Eloy picked up the tooth pendant, as it was quite plain that Senteno would not touch it, and made a series of gestures as if 'blessing' the priest, all the while trying to manouvre to make contact with his skin. The orc priest, however, backed a step out of reach, and Eloy slipped the pendant back into his pocket with a resigned smile.
"I hope we meet again," said Gorfang to Luzmarz. The son of Maurend the Uncanny looked the Master of Weapons up and down, comparing his own slight form to the massively muscled Gorfang. "Not on the battlefield, preferably," he said dryly.
At dawn the next morning, Eloy and Gorfang emerged from the maw of the fortress, and discovered the stone giant Aranbar waiting for them. "A gift for you," said Eloy, handing the giant a pendant necklace.
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Session Date: 8th Aug 2012 |
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