Blawharag's Origin

[Blawharag 277]

The sun beat down upon the sands as a young Orc went through his rudiments again. He had weighed down his wooden sword with cobblestone, making it far heavier than a traditional training sword. Alone and close to heat stroke, the runt methodically went through every stroke, parry, turn and flourish the Master-of-Arms had taught them earlier that day. The clan's Master-of-Arms was not sure whether to be impressed by the young Orcs work or displeased. His dedication to the craft had sped him towards mastering the forms past the children of his age. Yet fighting was ALL he did. Apparently he hadn't even ventured home in three days! Why should he? He learned more from hunting his own meat than from eating at the table with his family.

Master-of-Arms Marg'thuk shook his head in pity. The childs dedication would turn him into a worthy blademaster one day, but with his anti-social behavior he would never be any use to the clan. Out in the harsh sands of this desert, more than a days walk from the nearest sign of civilization, you needed someone to stand by you. It didn't matter how strong you were, without a brother by your side you were as good as dead. The dead died alone boy. Make a friend or join them.. Marg'thuk turned and walked away from Blawharag. It was only then that the boy noticed him watching. He gave chase and confronted the Master-of-Arms.

"How was my form? Was it perfect? Where did I mess up? On the second pass right? I knew it, I could feel it was wrong!" Marg'thuk face turned to one of disappointment. For a moment he thought the child had come to make conversation. Marg should have known better.

"Yes, and the fourth parry was sloppy too. Worry about that later though, your father is returning from the hunt and I hear he slew a pigman zombie with Gilgamesh. Im sure your brother will be there to inspect his work." The best hunters in the clan carried diamond weapons. Blawharag's father in particular carried a diamond sword called "Gilgamesh". He claimed that the weapon belonged to the first Blademaster of the clan by the same name.

Blawharag gave Marg'thuk a confused look, he had likely forgotten he had a brother, as he was infamous for doing. When realization dawned on him moments later, he nodded a negative. "Let my small brother gawk over a corpse. One day I will send home other that he can be impressed over."

"So you say, little warrior." Marg'thuk walked off in defeat. In truth he had not expected Blawharag to take him up on that offer, but he could never let go of his hope...

~~~

Years passed and Marg'thuk found himself once again speaking with Blawharag. This time the tone was far from friendly however.

"Why not! I am easily greater than any of the clan warriors! I could probably hold my own against even one of our Kheshig in single combat! You know it!" The child spoke truely. Had begun to introduced himself as "Blademaster Blawharag" and Marg'thuk was not so sure he could challenge him for that title. Certainly Marg'thuk could defeat the child, but it would be a far closer battle than he would like. In single combat, Blawharag matched even the Kheshig, the guards to the Clan Head Gohrr. What Blawharag asked though was to be part of the Votarhai. The warriors and hunters of the Clan. As great as Blawharag was with his weapons, He could never work with his fellow Votarhai as he needed to.

Three times Marg'thuk had taken Blawharag on the Hosh Votar, the Good Hunt. It was the final trial for students looking to join the Votarhai. They would go as a group and their performance during the hunt would determine if they passed. Marg'thuk was getting ready fail Blawharag again after his lack of teamwork on the most recent hunt. This time Blawharag had decided he was more than capable of taking down the Pigman Zombie alone and charged off ahead of the group. By the time they caught up with Blawharag he had been ambushed by three spiders when he confronted the pigman. He was lucky they pulled him out alive.

"There was no way I could have known those spiders would drop down from the trees like that! Im used to hunting in deserts, not trees! If not for that the Pigman would have been dead by now!" Blawharag's foolishness had allowed the Pigman Zombie to escape. He could never be an effective Votarhai if he could not learn to cooperate with his peers. The students he had surpassed in his youth had already caught up with him and were on the verge of going on to become Votarhai before him. Marg'thuk suspected this was what spurred this most recent confrontation. Blawharag could not stand to think that he would be passed by those he left in the dust as a child.

"You are too rash Blawharag. What would have happened if we hadn't made it to you in time? What would your father have said? Why would you put that burden on your brother and mother? Do you think of anyone other than yourself?" Marg'thuk had tried this route before, and he knew right where it would land him.

"What of them? I don't need them! I am strong! I can fight alone! There is no honor in needing others to help you!"

"You don't need them you say? Perhaps than we should have watched as you slew those spiders by yourself then?" Blawharag fell silent and dropped his eyes to the floor in shame, remembering that he owed his life to his pupils. "There is honor in fighting with you clanmates Blawharag. There is honor in working together for a common goal. There is honor in striving together, to build a stronger community. There is no honor in running off alone and getting yourself killed!" That drove it home. Marg'thuk had hoped that the recent events would act as a lesson to Blawharag and he could tell it did.

Ashamed, Blawharag turned and walked. Marg'thuk sighed with relief knowing that for a time he would not have to deal with the arrogant child. He sat in his hut, righting out his recommendations when he heard footsteps approaching. He held his breath expecting Blawharag to be returning to argue more but a different voice called out,

"We're under attack! On your feet! Wake up you rat-loving skahurz! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!!!" Marg'thuk grabbed the sword resting next to him and rushed outdoors. Orcs were scrambling left and right arming themselves. Off towards the other side of the camp he saw huts burning and warcries being shout. He grabbed a near by Orc and demanded to know what was going on. The Orc responded something about undead and ran off to join the battle.

"Skah" Marg'thuk swore under his breath. Where did the Undead find time to organize an attack out here in the middle of nowhere? The distant desert was home to nothing more than wild animals, his own Orc clan, and the occasional undead that popped up at night. It had no strategic interest to the necromancers of the Undead...

And then realization hit Marg'thuk like a brick to the face. Their desert was a few days journey from Krugmar, the orcish capital. The Orc clan had left Krugmar long ago and hadn't had contact with them ever since. He doubted Krugmar was even aware of their existence out here much less had prepared defenses against attacks from this direction, where no civilization was thought to exist. The Undead could practically walk into Krugmar... If they could only clear out the one clan that stood in between here and there.

Marg'thuk raised his sword and let loose a terrible battle cry. The orcs around him rallied and returned his cry and followed him into battle. The seen was chaotic, Undead were everywhere, easily outnumbering the Orcs 3 to one. Squads of Votarhai were bearing down on the Undead wherever they could, and even the Orcs who were builders in society could hold their own against a Zombie. For a moment It looked as though the Undead assault would be turned... Until the Necromancer showed up.

He stood atop one of the burning hut and cackled. "Foolish orcs! I am Necromancer Reshikrom! I will crush you under my boot!" From his thick black cloak he drew a twisted golden staff. The glimmer of gold betrayed the wicked and twisted nature of the terrible instrument as he raised it towards the moon. Marg'thuk watched in awe as Orcs rose from their glorious deaths as monstrosities. Lightning rained down from the sky, lighting more fires and fell Orcs everywhere. Reshikrom extended his staff and a hail of fireballs flew forth exploding everywhere. In the chaos Orcs were seperated from each other and undead fell onto them with renewed strength. Quickly the battle turned against the Orcs. As a horde of undead fell upon Marg'thuk he knew this would be his last fight. From a distance he heard a cry as the elite warriors of the Votarhai charged out in tandom with the Kheshig and Clanlord Gohrr. Diamond weapons blazing they cut a path through the mayham and Blawharag's own father threw Gilgamesh at the necromancer, shattering his staff and wounding him. Their arrival was too late however, the situation was already hopeless. It was comforting to know that they would not be wiped out without a glorious fight however.

~~~

Blawharag had seen the fires from a distance. He was out alone thinking about his recent failure when he heard the lightning without a storm. By the time he arrived, everyone was dead. Only a few zombies remained strewn out about the camp. As Blawharag wandered about in a daze he heard Marg'thuk calling to him. The Master-of-Arms was surrounded by 4 dead Orcs and thrice as many undead.

"It was glorious, the greatest battle I have ever had the pleasure of being a part of. I go to the grave with honor." Mortal wounds covered his body, even the greatest of healers could do nothing for him now. Blawharag felt a pain in his heart. Though he had had his arguments with the Master-of-Arms before, he had always had great respect for the man. To Blawharag, Marg'thuk was more his father than the Orc who wielded Gilgamesh. As if reading Blawharag's thoughts, Marg'thuk choked out a response, "I know your father never showed it, but I could tell he was proud of you both." Both? Who else was the dieing warrior talking about? "You were anti-social and your brother was small and too interested in his studies," Oh right, Blawharag had forgotten he had a brother, "but your father was proud of you nonetheless. There, by the hut, Gilgamesh lies waiting. Your father would want you to have it. Take it and give chase. The necromancer fled back to his portal to await reinforcements. We wiped out his Undead and he dare not move against Krugmar without a force behind him. You must kill him and destroy the portal before its too late! He is wounded and without his staff. Kill him and avenge our deaths! Glazug Votar!" With those final words, Marg'thuk died.

Blawharag ran to reclaim Gilgamesh but saw an Orc already there holding it. The Orc looked up at the self proclaimed Blademaster and spoke as if he already knew everything, "I was out studying the sleeping habits of sheep at night when I heard the attack. I took out what I could with my bow but I could not stop the attack. I saw the necromancer flee, I wouldn't be surprised if he had a small holdfast on the far side of the desert. What do you think, Blaw? Shall we go destroy him for his arrogance?" Blawharag was not sure how the Orc recognized him, he was positive he did not know this one. The Orc must have seen the confusion on his face because he stood and introduced himself. "You probably forgot about me again." The orc sighed, "Its me, Gragarn. Your brother. You would know that if you ever bothered to come to dinner, Skahur." Blawharag thought for a moment and recognition dawned on him. With that Gragarn stood and handed him Gilgamesh. "Here your better with this than I, I prefer a bow." Blawharag accepted the blade and strangely it seemed to fit naturally in his hands. With this sword of Diamond in his hands, Blawharag felt the strange sensation of being complete, as though his arm was missing its hand and now all of a sudden he had it again.

~~~

Gragarn studied the ramparts before him. The Holdfast was small enough, hastily erected to act as a base for the Undead Assault while they shuttled in forces from the nether. It had taken every ounce of Gragarn's wit to convince his elder brother not to charge headlong into the fight without even knowing how to get in. The holdfast was lightly guarded if you could consider that. One skeleton archer patrolled the wall and a Zombie stood at the gate. Gragarn doubted there were more than one or two within the holdfast itself. The only problem was getting in before the archer finished you off. Finally Gragarn saw his answer: A hill to the side of the holdfast. Blawharag looked athletic enough that he could make the jump. Then, Diamond sword in hand, it would be a simple matter for the arrogant Blademaster to cut down the archer and lower the gate for Gragarn. Gragarn would only need to distract them while he did so.

He relayed his plan to Blawharag who seemed less than enthusiastic about the plan. "I don't need your help to take them down! I can do it myself!" Gragarn was annoyed by his self-sufficient attitude, but he would not let his distaste get the better of him. He kept to his wit.

"Oh? Is that what you told them right before you charged off and got ambushed by spiders?" Gragarn had heard about Blawharag's most recent failure. His brother looked ready to hit him but slowly the anger faded.

"You're right. Fine, we will do it your way. When it doesn't work, I'll be sure to hit you for it in the spirit world." With that Blawharag ran off to his position. Within 30 minutes they were inside the holdfast tracking down the necromancer, without an undead minion in sight.

~~~

Blawharag had to admit, Gragarn's plan probably turned out far better than Blawharag's would have. Perhaps there was some merit to Marg'thuk's talk of teamwork. "Brother! Over here!" Blawharag rushed to where Gragarn had cried out to find him standing in a room with a necromancer and a portal straight to the nether.

"So, to wayward Orcs have managed to make their way in here. You're efforts are in vain greenskins! Soon the undead will flow forth from this portal and we will strike San'jezal from behind!" Blawharag had some difficulty understanding his human speach, but Gragarn was right on top of it.

"Why would you just come out and tell us your plan like that?" Gragarn asked dumbfounded. "Of course we already knew, but seriously, what the hell?"

Blawharag wasted no time talking, with one fierce warcry, Blawharag descended on the necromancer, who drew an Iron sword to defend himself. Blawharag went through everything he had every learned about swordplay. He brought Gilgamesh down in an intricate series of blows switching between fighting forms effortlessly. His rage gave power to his blows but he was calm and steady on the surface. He was well practiced at the art of the Calm Storm. Marg'thuk had recognized early the immense rage that had festered in Blawharag overtime since he first started to be denied rank because he could not work with others. Since then Marg'thuk had taught him to harness his rage and couple it with a calm serene mind. Together, a warrior could harness the strength of his rage without being reckless and wild. The Calm Storm. Blawharag's assault was flawless, no one short of an elite swordsman could fight back his blows...

No one except this necromancer. His blade checked every stroke and found every parry. It was unnatural. Could this sorcerer also have some skill with the blade? Suddenly an arrows shot past Blawharag perfectly aimed at the necromancer. Even the greatest warrior could only hope to deflect an arrow if he was perfectly concentrated and prepared for it. No man alive could perform such a feat under the pressure of the blademaster's attack.

Yet there it was again, the necromancers blade caught the air midair and deflected it away. Doubt crept into Blawharag's thoughts. Perhaps the necromancer was a far greater swordsman than he? Perhaps what he had always thought to be mastery of his weapon was in fact a lie? Did he even stand a chance against someone who could put up such an insane defense? He felt cold and alone. For the first time since he was a child, Blawharag felt himself wishing someone was there beside him. Someone to guide him and give him strength. Silently he made a plea, and it was answered.

His bones grew weary from the intensity of his assault and his muscles began to ache, than he felt a presence inside him. Strangely enough it felt like Marg'thuk had merged into his body and was helping hold his sword, helping him make each blow. Then Blawharag recognized another orcs presence, and another. Suddenly Blawharag became aware that the spirits of the fallen orcs had risen around him in a fit of rage. They demanded vengeance and the boundaries between them and the void would not stop them. The tired left Blawharag all at once as the spirits fought off his fatigue. Still, even if these spirits could fight off his weariness forever, Blawharag could still never break his ironclad defense. Krug me damned if he wasn't going to try though.

~~~

Gragarn quickly realized something was wrong. There is no reason a second rate necromancer should have half as much skill with the sword as this one did. He had fired one arrow in time with Blawharag's strike, a shot that should have forced the necromancer to either deflect the arrow or the blade. It was physically impossible to do both at once, yet somehow he had. Something was very wrong. Blawharag was growing weary, Gragarn could see that. For a moment Gragarn thought they had failed. Only when his hope was at its lowest however, did he see Blawharag's strength renew itself and his attacks pick up as though he had only just begun. He knew not what was happening, but he could here the faint whisper of their father urging him to fight on. Gragarn's hopes lifted, he began to think clearly again. If his brute of a brother could keep the necromancer on the defense for this long, than Gragarn can sure as hell find away to break it.

"Take it easy, Blaw, don't give it your all yet. Save it for when you can finish him!" For a moment, Blawharag looked almost insulted that Gragarn would suggest such a thing. Gragarn was afraid that Blawharag wasn't going to accept his suggestion and now was not the time to argue. Than he heard the faint whisper of what sounded like the old Master-of-Arms Marg'thuk, and suddenly Blawharag eased his attack. Not too much, but just enough to keep the necromancer on the defense. Gragarn nodded his approval, now he need only find what was causing the necromancer's unholy defense.

He quickly ruled out the necromancer's skill. That was never a question. If the magic was coming from the necromancer himself, than he showed now sign of exhaustion for such an incredibly powerful spell. The only logical explanation was that his prowess stemmed from some magical artifact. Since only the sword was on the necromancer's person, Gragarn deduced that it must be hiding somewhere withing the holdfast. A secure position where it would be hidden from sight. Necromancer's were notorious for deception not brute force so he would not have chosen to put it into an obvious defensible spot but rather hide it in an obscure, albeit vulnerable spot. Finally, Gragarn determined that this particular necromancer was very arrogant, so he must not have put forth much effort into hiding this artifact.

Gragarn spent five minutes on the riddle before he figured it out. He ran past the clashing swordsman and behind the Nether Portal. There, hidden in the shadows of the obelisk was a perfectly spherical stone. Did I mention it glowed faintly purple? Of course it did, all artifacts of great evil do. Gragarn could think of no more appropriate thing for an Orc to do with a powerful artifact than to smash it. Gragarn was above such simple things though, he could put it to better use than that.

He threw it at the necromancer.

~~~

"Take it easy, Blaw, don't give it your all yet. Save it for when you can finish him!" Blawharag guffawed. How dare his brother suggest he give anything other than his all? If he did not defeat the necromancer, who was going to? The air? The Sun? But than the spirit of Marg'thuk spoke to him,

The dead died alone boy. Make a friend or join them. Only then did Blawharag realize that Marg'thuk was right. Without Gragarn's help, Blawharag was never going to defeat this necromancer, and so he relented. Just enough to keep the necromancer reeling. He put his trust in his brother, he only hoped his brother would come up with a witty plan.

Five minutes later, Gragarn's witty plan came to light. He had decided that instead of arrows he should upgrade to stones. Apparently, Blawharag thought my trust was misplaced. Just as Blawharag expected, the necromancer's blade flew to his blindside to catch the stone he never saw coming. The stone shattered and suddenly, there it was! Exactly what Blawharag had been waiting for:

An opening.

Gilgamesh seemed act on its own accord, or maybe it was the spirit of Marg'thuk compelling his blade to strike, or maybe it was Blawharag's own instincts acting before the dumbfounded warrior knew what was happening. Whatever it was, Blawharag's diamond sword sunk itself into the necromancer's flesh. With his sword behind his body, the necromancer could not even move in time to parry the blow. Somehow Gragarn's stone had made an opening where his arrow could not. Whatever shock possessed Blawharag by the victory quickly faded however and the rush of success gripped his senses. With one mighty roar, Blawharag let fly a fierce backhand which knocked the necromancer's head clean off. Blawharag would have relished the shower of blood, but apparently necromancer's didn't bleed.

With that, the spirits began to retreat back to the void. Yet strangely Blawharag did not find them out of reach. He felt their presence, even if they were not channeling through him. With concentration, he knew he could reach them again if he needed. They were there, ready to guide him and his brother to victory always. He need only ask.

"What now brother?" Gragarn inquired as he made his way over the necromancer's corpse towards Blawharag.

"Well, I guess we should probably take down that portal before more come through." There was a hint of hesitation in his voice. A part of Blawharag wanted to leave it up, as a challenge to the undead to try it again. A sign that they should not underestimate the Orcs. He did not voice this opinion however, "I don't know how we would go about doing that."

Gragarn thought for a moment and reached a conclusion. "We must destroy it from the Nether. Otherwise they can remake the portal from there." Blawharag figured he was right, but the frame of the portal was made of obsidian, and he did not have the foggiest clue on how to break that. Luckily Gragarn seemed to be reading his thoughts and drew a diamond pick-axe from seemingly nowhere.

"Where did you get that?"

"One of the Uruk Votaghai was carrying it. I was collecting their diamond arsenal when you showed up." Gragarn smiled wickedly. "I'll wreck the portal while you distract the undead?" Now it was Blawharag's turn to grin. He liked the idea of being the distraction.

Together they destroyed the portal from the nether and jumped through before it collapsed. By the time they had finished their work, they were laughing hysterically. "So what now? We've no clan and no camps. We could rebuild, but we lack the materials. And I don't relish the idea of taking refuge in the keep of the enemy."

Blawharag nodded. His brother was right, they had proved they were stronger than their enemy this day. To crawl up in his shelter would be to admit that he had damaged the Orcs. That in some way, the Orcs were not strong enough to survive and thrive on their own without his help. Blawharag would not admit they needed his keep to survive, even if he was dead. "We go to Krugmar." There they could get the supplies they needed. Then they could rebuild, without the help of the undead. And they would go together, as brothers.

~~~

Blawharag's calm meditation betrayed his deep inner rage that was just waiting to explode forth from him. He listened to the spirits around him. He had found that it was difficult to call upon the spirits aid, though he was slowly getting better at hearing them. For now at least he could only communicate with them through meditation. So now, just before his Mak'Gora with the insolent Orc before him, he spoke to them. They whispered their displeasure at how the Orc had dishonored himself by calling the Warlord of Krugmar a thief. They willed Blawharag to defeat the Orc in the Mak'Gora, so that his Honor may be restored. They showed him what he must do.

Then the command came, the Warlord shouted for the battle to begin and immediately Blawharag's opponent charged him, just as the spirits said he would. Blawharag ran up the hill to his right, he never even looked to see if it was there, he knew. The spirits told him it was. He jump and landed behind him. A few quick strokes of his blade and his opponent fell. He didn't even land a single blow on Blawharag. The Warlord cheered and congratulated the winner. Blawharag had earned his place as Kheshig to the Warlord of the Krugmar Orcs. The Blademaster thanked the spirits silently as he fell in place behind his new Warlord.

[Monkey 62]

Nice story. I liked especialy how you make the undead break his own artifact XD I pictured that so well. I just don't get the last 2 paragraphs, is there something missing?

[Blawharag 277]

Nice story. I liked especialy how you make the undead break his own artifact XD I pictured that so well. I just don't get the last 2 paragraphs, is there something missing?

meant to be like a sort of epilogue. So that i have a proper transition to where I am now. The event in the last two paragraphs happened in game and its more or less what kick started Blawharag, so i felt it was an appropriate conclusion to an origin story. However I could have made it more clear that it was an epilogue to be sure.

[Danny 2232]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.