The Blight upon Hassheld (Pt. 1)

[Smaw 2376]

"Even the light will fade. All things will break, in the end. It is the curse of time."

 

 

The Rex, Kharak'Raguk, stood at the borders North of the Uzg. He looked out to the bleak ocean before him, a concerned expression plastered onto his face. Stretched out into the putrid waters was a decrepit and broken path of stone, sunken in part by the murky sea that ebbed and flowed around it. All was silent in the region. There were no gusts of wind, no crashing tides or squawking of birds. There were not ships sailing upon the waters, and there was no life below the depths. Even the blazing sun failed to shine, for it had been entombed by a blanket of coal black sky.

 

A nervous sigh escaped the Orc as he stepped onto the stygian pathway, treading carefully as he searched for stability. As he trudged with difficulty across the walkway, the reason for his journey appeared before him. Out upon the horizon lay a dead island, floating upon the sickly waters that cradled it in mourning. Thick with muck and fallen leaves, the waters pressed against the broken land. It sat before Kharak, encapsulated in an immensely thick barrier of fog.

 

As he continued along the path,  his figure broke into the wall of dense mist. Immediately, a swathe of disturbed silence pervaded his ears as his feet stepped onto the corrupted earth below him. 

 

The island was formerly known as Hassheld. It had been a bustling tribute of the Uzg, a centre for trade and prosperity among the Humans that called it their home. It was a warm environment, matched only by the nature of its inhabitants. Yet no man is without flaw, and as the Humans and Elves of this land began to plot for their separation, the Rex caught wind.

 

The Orc drew his sword, breaking the silence with the grinding of his blade. He looked around in all directions, squinting in an attempt to see through the darkness. In every direction once proud buildings lay, feeble and hunched in defeat. Some had crumbled entirely onto the land, while others were living out their last breath. Littered across the floor were scrapings of wood, broken tools and torn leaflets. The message board of the town square had sunken into the earth, enveloped in a sickening cesspool, and corpses of both men and animals lay mangled in the earth, carnivorous fungi eating away slowly at flesh and bone.

 

The land was despair incarnate, and the Rex had been the cause. As he continued to walk along the path, he noticed a robed corpse, adorned in tarnished cloth. It sat, slumped against one of the ruined walls. It had a worn book cradled in it's arms. 

 

In interest, Kharak picked it up, and began to scour through the pages.

 

 

It reads:

 

I hear a lot as I pass through town these days. The young seem to take no mind to my generation, thinking of us as crippled morons.

 

I still have my wits about me though. Enough to hear them blather on about rumours. Enough to write them down in this book.

 

It seems the damned Wood Elf is trying to separate us from those monsters to the South. Not a bad idea if you ask me, but if what I hear is true, her method is going to get her killed. She wants us to vassalise under Oren. In secret! If the Orcs catch wind of this we're going to have a problem on our hands. 

 

Also, I didn't have as much mina as I expected when I left home today. Corvyn was kind enough to spare me some coin. He's a good man. I'll be sure to return him a favour when I can.

 

I set up some traps for the rabbits to the North. Those white pelts should sell quite nicely. Perhaps I can offer him some. Must remember to pack some supplies and check on them in the coming days.

The Rex would glare up from the page, looking around with caution as he began to position himself beside the body. He looked back down to the book, turning through the pages.

 

Packed some supplies, and told Corvyn I'd return in the next few days. It's going to be quite a journey, this one. I can feel it in my bones. I should stop doing these activities, I'm getting far too old to travel into the cold.

 

I'll leave my book here, I cannot stand writing in the cold. I'll probably be keeping my gloves on the entire time, my skin is too thin to be putting up with such nonsense. 

 

I will return soon. With any luck.

 

Kharak flicked through the empty pages in the diary, before stopping at a page with poor and seemingly hurried text. He brought his knees in, holding the book closer to him as he read further.

 

Hassheld has been sacked. Everyone I ever knew.

 

Strewn out, bloodied and beaten across town.

 

I don't understand.

 

There are Orcs.

 

Bodies.

 

They must have found out. I need to find survivors.

 

The Red Orc shuffled his body, repositioning himself along the wall. He turned the page, following through as he continued to read the diary.

[CombatRolePlay 1863]

Roy stands just outside hassheld. Thinking why he ever decided to set up shop here

[herculean_wud 3662]

Wud raises both flabby arms, both laden with enough fat that if he weren't so heavy he could probably fly! A valiant roar, indicating his involvement in the series of events that had besieged Hassheld to the mere husk it is today, escaped his square, unkempt. "wUd hElP. WUd HElP!" He yelled cheering a shouting, "wuD flaT! yUb. wUd Du!" He jeered, recalling the fateful day he, Mok'han and the Dominus, soon to be Rex at the time, set foot upon those isles to truly make sure the fickle denizens of Hassheld knew who they were tampering with!

 

"ZkUm." Growled Wud, turning around to drop his loin, this mooning business apparently becoming a common mannerism of his.

 

 

[𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖚𝖘𝖍 2451]

Vorgo would stare across the sea, distantly seeing a destroyed cobblestone path leading up to a blighted land full of rot. He would inspect the island in the distance, admiring it's taint in honor to Orgon "Da Rex haz dun bubhozhly, mi kan unlee peep wub ahm tu kum." he would slightly smile, continuing on his way to the abandoned town of Gundz'Koth

[Remyy 952]

Luna shook her head as she remembered her guild, the ones she used to call family;

"It was the worst decision of my life;"

The 'Ker mumbled recalling where she had established the base of operations, she shifted her gaze to the dolls that hung on the shelves as a voice echoed through her head;

"It was you, you killed them all."

[Elad™ 560]

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