Grut, third year of the Third Age
Much had changed since Grimnak had come to power. No longer was Ragnak a small rebel, determined to make Grimnak pay for the death of his father. No longer was his village beaten, silently paying what Grimnak demanded. And no longer was Ragnak a young orc, easily ignored by those with power.
Grimnak still ruled. His armies still threatened and raided villages. He still slew any who stood in his way. But Grimnak was a tyrant, a tyrant with enemies. And as with any tyrant, one of those enemies would someday rise up and strike him down.
“Nooo!” Ragnak’s bloodcurdling cry echoed throughout the village, wrenching many an orc from sleep.
Ragnak leapt from his bed, his hand convulsively finding the haft of an axe. His eyes frantically searched the darkness for his foe. His breath came in short gasps, his heart hammering frantically against his ribs. He had been so sure that time, so sure that Grimnak was near, within reach of his blade.
Ragnak collapsed onto the ground, the memory of his dream still imprinted painfully on his mind. He could see it clearly, as if its events had happened but a minute ago. His father, gasping his last, blood pooling beneath him. Ragnak shuddered. His fury slipped from him, leaving him shaking, cold, frightened by what he had seen. A cold sweat began to drench him. Nearly every night he awoke thus, haunted by his father, Grimnak mocking him from the shadows.
“Ragnak?” Aderra’s voice floated questioningly out of the darkness. Her hand found his shoulder, its warmth spreading to him, soothing his tense muscles, slowing his rapid breathing. “It’s all right, Ragnak. I’m here. I’m with you.”
Aderra. She had been kind to him. She had understood. Ragnak put a hand over hers. He could not have chosen a better wife. She was the companion that he needed.
He felt Aderra slide to the ground beside him. Her presence was comforting. “Your father again?” she asked quietly.
Ragnak nodded silently, forgetting that Aderra could not see him in the darkness. “I see him every night,” he whispered, staring straight in front of him. Silence surrounded them.
Aderra moved closer, but said nothing. She didn’t need to. She calmed Ragnak simply by being near him.
“Grimnak will pay,” said Ragnak quietly. “For over two years my father has haunted my dreams. I will avenge his death. I will not stop until Grimnak is dead, no matter what he may throw in my path.”
“Ragnak,” Aderra said, her voice quavering with worry as it always did when he talked of his quest, “Grimnak is powerful. He could kill you.”
Ragnak touched her shoulder. Her skin had gone cold. He could just make out her eyes through the darkness, filled with concern and fear. The burning fury against Grimnak that had filled him but a moment ago melted away. He had frightened her again. “Don’t worry, Aderra,” he said, drawing her closer, his voice softening. “Grimnak cannot harm me. I will kill him easily and quickly when the time comes. My Heart will see to that.”
Aderra stretched out a hand and rested it against the demon Heart on Ragnak’s chest. Her hand looked small and pale against its feverish red glow. “I pray that this Heart will keep you safe. I pray that it will return you to me at the end of each day, whole and uninjured.”
The Heart brightened slightly under her touch, as if acknowledging her words. “It will,” murmured Ragnak. “It will heal me from any injury. By its power, I will slay Grimnak.”
Aderra looked up at him. “When the time comes, Ragnak,” she whispered, searching his face, “when you must face Grimnak… stay safe.”
Ragnak held her tightly. “I will,” he whispered. “I will.”
As sleep slowly found Ragnak again that night, he knew that he would confront Grimnak soon. In fact, they both knew it. The slaying of a demon does not go unnoticed on Grut. Grimnak knew perfectly well that Ragnak now possessed the demon Heart. That was why he was reluctant to challenge him. The owner of such an item was nigh invincible.
Ragnak’s village had not paid Grimnak for months. Sooner or later, he would have to march in with his army, and when he did, Ragnak would be ready, waiting for him, prepared to finally avenge the death of his father. The entire village was counting on Ragnak to defend them. If he failed, they would all suffer, his family more so than most.
But Ragnak would not fail. He had fashioned two deadly axes from the legs of the demon he had slain. Their heads were wide and sharp, and the hafts tapered down to wicked points, making the weapons serve as both axe and sword. Armor, made from the bones of the demon and nearly indestructible, would cover Ragnak, reaching as far as his eyes. And if Grimnak did manage to wound him, Ragnak’s Heart would heal his injury, fueling his strength.
Ragnak would not fail.
Not far away, similar thoughts ran through Grimnak’s mind. Accompanied by a massive army, he lay encamped five miles from Ragnak’s village. They would strike the next day, and Grimnak knew that Ragnak would be waiting for him. He would have but one chance to defeat him, one chance to take the Heart as his own. If he failed, Ragnak would kill him, and all would be lost. Grimnak did not intend to fail either.
The next day dawned hot and clear, though clouds of red smoke drifted across the sky, blown about by the ever-present volcanoes. Ragnak’s village awoke. It was another normal day. No fiends had attacked them since Ragnak had slain the demon, and marauding orcs gave them a wide berth, knowing full well what would await them if they attacked.
Though the village had no need of a leader, the orcs all respected and looked up to Ragnak as the natural chief. The one in charge was usually the orc who had won the most fights, and slaying a demon counted for a lot. Chief or not, however, Ragnak still had to fight to survive, just like any other orc. He and Aderra both had to find enough food to feed themselves and their small daughter, Kira. If they did not, they would starve.
Unfortunately, Kira, being not even a year old, could not be left by herself in a village full of orcs. No one was quite stupid enough to harm the daughter of Ragnak, but she would have no defense if Grimnak or other orcs came.
Therefore, Ragnak had arranged for a young orc by the name of Berog to watch over her during his absences. In return, he would be given a share of food. Berog would not be much use against Grimnak, but he could hide Kira, which would be all that was needed.
Ragnak and Aderra went further from the village than usual that day. The ’saurs and other animals had learned that they did not survive long too close to the village, and so kept moving further and further away. Unfortunately, as Ragnak contented himself with smaller game, Grimnak’s army drew steadily nearer his daughter.
They arrived by midday. Grimnak had changed since the last time Ragnak had dueled him. He had found and trained a terrible ’saur which stood on two feet and possessed a maw capable of devouring an orc in a single bite. Now possessing a bow and an axe to add to his collection of weapons, Grimnak was more dangerous than ever.
Most of his army was mounted on raptors, the fastest and most common ’saur on Grut. They ranged from dull green to gray to dull blue, and each could gut an orc with a single swipe from the terrible talons on their feet. To increase the danger, each carried an orc, fitted with full armor and carrying a sword and shield. Most of the swords were so thick that they easily doubled as axes, and the edges of the shields were so sharp that they could easily cut flesh. Grimnak’s army was not one accustomed to losing.
Grimnak’s terrible ’saur – a Beheron as the orcs called it, being unfamiliar with the names bestowed by other worlds – easily kicked in the main gate to Ragnak’s village. His army poured in without resistance. The village was helpless when Ragnak wasn’t there to defend it.
Grimnak set his soldiers collecting debts, preferably in the most violent way possible. He then tortured the location of Ragnak’s house out of several orcs, and collecting a guard of ten soldiers, kicked down its door and went inside.
All was quiet in the dark house. Feeling certain that Ragnak was not here, Grimnak ordered his soldiers to set fire to the place, confident that the smoke would draw Ragnak to him. What he did not expect as he looked in the last of the rooms, however, was to be struck in the face with a club.
Berog rushed past him, frantically trying to escape the house before the soldiers caught him, Kira clutched tightly to his chest like his most prized possession. She remained completely silent, as if she sensed the urgency of the situation. Most unfortunately, Grimnak, used to such blows, caught Berog around the middle and flung him back down to the ground.
“What is this?” he hissed, spotting Kira in his arms. He knelt on Berog, thus effectively holding him in place, and carefully pried Kira from his grasp. She let loose a wail as she felt his unfamiliar grasp, a wail that was heard by every orc outside the house as well as in.
The cry was also heard by Ragnak, who, unknown to Grimnak, had come back early and had just finished dispatching every soldier he met on his way to the house.
A maniacal light kindled in Grimnak’s eyes as he looked down on Kira. Perhaps he would not have to fight Ragnak at all. He had lost his father; surely he would not sacrifice his daughter as well? He had just decided that the battle was already won, when a cry from one of his soldiers outside alerted him.
Ragnak bounded into the house, his blades dripping blue orc blood, just as Grimnak whirled around, his sword in one hand, Kira clutched tightly in the other. She let out another wail.
“Stop now, Ragnak,” Grimnak rumbled, holding the sword threateningly close to Kira. “Lay down your weapons, and give the demon Heart to me, or I kill your daughter. And I can assure you it will be painful.”
Ragnak had not chosen Berog lightly. He was quite young, but he was strong and fast for his age, and he improvised well. He would be able to get out of most tight situations. That was why Ragnak glanced at him as Grimnak held a sword to his daughter’s throat. Berog, unseen by Grimnak, nodded silently.
Ragnak threw back his head and laughed.
Grimnak faltered. This was not what he had been expecting.
“My daughter?” said Ragnak, his apparent mirth subsiding. “You really think that I would leave my daughter alone for you to find, Grimnak? This is not even my home. This village is loyal to me. They will never give you true information. You will never find my family.”
Grimnak’s brow furrowed. “This is not your daughter?” he hissed, his visage darkening. “Very well. I will kill as many as I have to in order to get to you.” And with that he swung the sword at Kira’s head.
Berog leapt up in an instant and latched onto Grimnak’s arm with all the eagerness of an oversized leech. The sword stroke missed, due to Berog’s weight, and Ragnak, springing forward, slammed his fist into Grimnak, knocking him off balance. He swung his other arm into the one holding Kira, loosing her, and deftly caught her before she had fallen three inches. Berog whipped away from Grimnak, and, Ragnak delivering Kira to him, dashed out the door before anyone could stop him. Then the battle began.
Ragnak’s armor served more than one purpose. It protected him from injury, but it also held the Heart close to his chest, where it could easily heal him should he ever need it to. The Heart was held in place by a leather strap that Ragnak wore at all times, for he could never be without the Heart. Every moment the Heart was separated from him was a moment he was vulnerable.
Grimnak regained his balance and surged towards Ragnak with all the speed of a falling ’saur. His sword sliced through the air, its edge whistling as it dove down towards him, its keen edge spelling certain death…
Ragnak raised one of his axes. The sword struck the weapon with enough force to break a stone, and bounced off, dented slightly. Grimnak staggered backwards, but quickly recovered. He swung at Ragnak from the side.
Another axe met his blow. This time the sword let loose a terrible hollow clang as it rebounded off of the bone. Another blow like that and it would snap in two.
Grimnak hissed, his face murderous, which was appropriate. Since he could not cleave Ragnak from head to foot, he satisfied himself with suddenly leaping forward, and kicking Ragnak to the ground.
At least such was his plan. All that he actually accomplished was to severely bruise his foot against Ragnak’s armor and lose his balance again. However, the true fight was yet to begin.
With a roar worthy of Grimnak’s expression, the Beheron burst through the wall, trampling it into the ground. Ragnak tried to get out of the way, but he wasn’t quite fast enough. The ’saur’s head lunged forward and slammed into him, knocking him through the next wall into a pile of five soldiers.
They set on him immediately, woefully ignorant of who they were attacking. By the time they were dead, however, Grimnak was atop his mount, and was already seeking Ragnak out with his monstrous spear.
Ragnak waited until the spear came close enough, and then grabbed it. Grimnak tried to jerk it back, which was exactly what Ragnak had been hoping for. He allowed himself to be lifted off of the floor, leaping towards Grimnak.
The sudden weight on the spear caused Grimnak to fall forwards. He let go of the spear, but remained in the saddle, Ragnak’s axe just barely missing him. The Beheron’s jaws snapped shut inches from Ragnak’s head, and he had to dive to one side to avoid being kicked by one of its legs. Unfortunately, he got up a little too soon, and the ’saur’s massive tail slammed into him, throwing him through another wall.
Ragnak came up in a pile of three more soldiers, who attacked him instantly, raining blows down upon his armor. He got up beneath their ferocious attack, beheading them as he did so. One was observant enough to strike at his head, but missed. Ragnak decapitated him half a second later.
The Beheron joined in the fight once again, kicking Ragnak against the wall, which broke, allowing daylight into the darkened room. Grimnak sank his long axe into Ragnak, searching desperately for a weak spot in the armor. There was none.
Ragnak grabbed the axe and deftly snapped it in two against one of his weapons. He leapt at Grimnak, but the Beheron turned and slammed into him with its side, knocking him cleanly out of the house.
Ragnak rolled as he landed, coming up in the dust on his feet. “You can’t win,” Grimnak!” he bellowed as the ’saur lunged after him. “You killed my father, and now you must suffer his vengeance!”
Grimnak shot an arrow at him. The arrow bounced off of Ragnak’s armor, leaving no impression whatsoever. Ragnak avoided another kick from the Beheron, and then sank his axe into its hide, pulling himself up by it. The ’saur roared in pain and staggered forwards.
“I killed your father,” roared Grimnak, swinging his sword at Ragnak’s unprotected head, “and I’ll kill you as I killed him – slowly and painfully!” And then he lunged forwards, his fingers scrabbling madly against the demon Heart, which was only half covered by the armor.
It was at the moment that the Heart slipped, at the moment when Grimnak loosed it from its place, that Ragnak suddenly realized how much he relied on it. Grimnak was the more skilled. Without the Heart, Ragnak would be dead in a matter of minutes. The Heart was his life.
Ragnak seized Grimnak’s arms and twisted them. The fingers temporarily stopped grasping at the Heart, and Ragnak took the opportunity to fall forward, forcing it back into its place against the hide of the ’saur.
Grimnak wrenched his arms free of Ragnak and punched him in the head. Ragnak’s vision flickered. Grimnak punched him again. Ragnak swayed dangerously upon the ’saur. However, as Grimnak prepared to strike a third time, a single drop of blood appeared on Ragnak’s brow.
Instantly, the Heart exploded into a display of black and red magic, its arcane arms whipping about, focusing on Ragnak’s head, restoring his vision. Grimnak, distracted by the magic, was not prepared when Ragnak, fully restored, slammed his own fist into him. Grimnak lost his balance and fell from the saddle, where his stumbling Beheron promptly stepped on him. A good deal of Grimnak’s bones cracked.
Ragnak landed on the ground, feeling the magic from the Heart racing in his veins. It empowered him against fatigue, urging him ever onwards, giving him the power to exact his vengeance.
He casually struck the back of the Beheron’s foot with an axe. The beast let loose a terrible cry, took a few stumbling steps, and then fell sideways, directly on top of Grimnak. Only his head and shoulders were visible.
Having a Beheron fall on you is not good for your health. Grimnak’s eyes bulged as he struggled to draw air against the great mass pressing down on him, but he could not. More than his lungs were crushed. Ragnak approached him slowly, holding his axes ready. Very soon now, his father would be avenged.
Grimnak, knowing the end had come, ceased struggling. He watched him approach silently. Ragnak stopped a foot away from Grimnak’s beaten body, and looked down at him. For a long time the two of them were silent, observing each other.
“You killed my father,” said Ragnak finally, his voice very quiet.
“I’ve killed many orcs,” Grimnak coughed. “Your father was but one. I was better than him.”
“Then you’ve made many enemies,” said Ragnak. “You should have known that one would eventually end you. That one would be better.”
Grimnak forced his mouth into a hideous imitation of a grin. “I knew that one would eventually try, and I was sure any who did would fail.”
“You were wrong,” said Ragnak, still in that deadly quiet voice. “I swore I would have my revenge.” He suddenly raised his voice. “By my father’s name, I strike you down!”
Ragnak raised his weapons over his head. Grimnak watched, unflinching.
“You will never be better than me,” he hissed.
Ragnak laughed. “Die in that knowledge, champion,” he spat. The axes descended. Blood coated everything.
It was a few moments before Ragnak realized what he had done. Grimnak was dead. He had freed over twenty villages from his tyranny. But more than that, he had avenged his father. No more would he wake each night in terror, his father’s face haunting his dreams. No more would Aderra fear for his safety. No more would the threat of Grimnak hang over their lives. No more.
Ragnak looked down at the grisly corpse at his feet. “My journey is complete,” he said to himself. “Vengeance has been mine. At last, peace shall again be in my life.”
How wrong he was.
September 2nd, 2014, 11:18 AM
(Just kidding) 
TAF was the Storyteller... 
Similar Threads
Linear Mode
