Orkfic Chapter I

As the ethereal conclave of mages plotted in the World of Dreams, the storm unleashed the entirety of its wrath upon the land. Once begun by magic, it raged on its own, an entity of independent will and power. Gales of wind swirled shrilly over weathered masonry and battlements, the rising energy in the air reaching its climax high in the atmosphere beyond where the winged races flew. Dark, furious clouds roiled and sputtered gouts of lightning and peals of thunder. It worked its way into a keening blizzard, coating the landscape of the forests of the North in white. Many a child hid his face in his mother’s skirts in the face of the monstrosity, itself started only hours before as Ancero’s retaliation. The hills themselves were rended by the wrath of the winds. And then, just as quickly as it had formed, the storm vanished. The world was once again eerily calm: the trees were unbroken, the land dry and uncovered by snow or mangled bodies. It was as if it never were, but in the memory of those that lived it.

With each use of magic, the fabric of existence itself shuddered. Destruction poured through the cracks of the Void, a hungry miasma that devoured reality itself. Looming in the wind-tossed firmament, the Comet approached the end of its procession; within that blazing rock the Sleeping God waited. A nameless and primordial terror, the deity had been imprisoned for far too long. But soon It would be unleashed.

All over the world of Orkfia below, ignorant mages tapped into Its dark ocean of power. Bits of rock crumbled and burned away. Threads of Time strained as the ancient spell once again neared its completion.

Little by little, all of Creation threatened to shatter under the pressure.

Soon this age would end. It would be the ending of all ages to It, the dark God of Destruction.

Deep in the bowels of the earth crowned by the impassable Iron Mountains, an army waited in the darkness. Most were goblins, small of stature and of courage. The bigger breed who ruled the slave horde, the orks, were also among them in chains. As were the hulking ogres and towering trolls. These beasts all together were made captives here. All stood waiting before the precipice, not daring to gaze down into the abyssal darkness. Infernal heat fumed from the stygian depths to the stony roof of the cavern, carrying with it the smell of brimstone and death. All were silent, save for the occasional whimpering of a child accompanied by the brutish thud of the mother to quiet the brat.

Opposite to the gathering of greenskins, a massive creature stood. The demon was a creature not quite of the world, its shadowy form shifting and flickering as flame. The only permanent feature to it was the face: a skull-like visage topped with curling horns and eyes that burned like awls. All the while it chanted a spell in a guttural tongue not unlike what the orks themselves spoke. In truth it was the origin of such.

Then, it spoke.

“Forward,” It intoned, its voice like a chorus of cacophonous screams, each calling for blood, booming throughout the cavern. In it was a malice beyond the comprehension of the greenskins. Sure, they knew of bloodlust and the chaos of battle and reveled in slaughter. But this was a death much darker. The will of the creature crashed down upon their simple minds like a burning avalanche. To their horror, their limbs stepped forward. The misshapen masses hobbled and limped stiffly, their eyes wide in terror as the first wave stepped over the edge.

It was then that the screaming began. Their bodies flailed helplessly for a moment before being consumed by the blackness of the chasm. Their shrieks and wails echoed above them. And then, a dreadful silence. There was no sickening crunch as they came to the end of their fall. It was as if they had ceased to exist altogether. The rest quivered in fear. Then, the second wave spilled over much like the first. Again and again, until each living soul was extinguished.

Pooled in the shadowy recesses were the remains of the victims. The fleshy bodies themselves were incinerated by the magma that rose to the surface. It was their souls in fact that stirred just above like a blanket of smoke. It was now vast and terrible, and directed towards one purpose.

The cabal of heretics approached the collossal demon with some trepidation. Though they lived no longer, this creature had the power to show them an even more terrible death than their first. Prostrating themselves before the hellish entity, they awaited its commands.

“Bring more living souls,” The voices roared mercilessly. The brittle bones and dessicated skin of the cultists creaked dryly as they scurried away, fearful to be the last one out of the vaulted chamber.

Yes, soon. The Comet would be sundered. All would fall under the power of Destruction.

Ancero felt an unearthly chill as the ripples of the spell traveled all the way to his northern kingdom. They were but a whisper now, distant in space and time, but full of anguish and suffering. Some foul deed had come to pass in the night, far to the West. The wicked forces of the Enemy were gathering their strength, as sure as the hair on his neck stood tall. Around him, the light elves gazed with worry towards the direction of the setting sun. They could feel it too, and it made them even more uneasy. He made something approaching a calming gesture, though in truth he knew little of their ways.

Arathos was a distant memory in his mind, clouded by his last death as it always was. He could vaguely recall it lay even farther north, beyond the White Mountains on the rocky coast of the Winter Sea. The Library there contained many ancient secrets, and he had always searched in vain for an answer.

Invariably, it would be too late by the time he realized his course of inquiry was a dead end, and the Age would end.

Not this time.

The light elves had told him somewhat of the force of Creation as they knew it. It had embodied itself in the souls of Men, and entrusted to them the fate of Orkfia. But nevertheless the gods had sent these elves to aid their cause. It seemed that putting faith into mankind had proved an error in their judgment.

He knew now that Creation and Destruction turned in opposition to one another, bound at the center by Preservation which maintained the balance between the two. The Seal of Preservation had been the barrier that prevented each from directly interfering in the affairs of Orkfia, but somehow it had broken long ago, when the troubles began. This had been the innate power of the elves, the remnants of its power fading away after the passing of each age. But now, these new elves stood only for Creation.

The secret to its power was far different than what he had become accustomed to during his many lives drinking from the Comet. It as altogether a different experience. The divine mystery swam just above the unclaimed outlands of his mind, whispering gently of wisdom and power. Yet it would melt away into nothingness as he bore it his attention. Force and domination held no sway over Creation, unlike the power of its counterpoint.

He would share his knowledge with his allies. Perhaps if enough of them learned it would be enough to save them. Already there was too little time.

1. HaRRy says:

   November 26, 2009 at 23:51

   Woooot, another story to love

   Would be nice to start each story with the links of the previous chapters.(prologue in this case)

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