Metal from a Swamp

[arakrsptec 171]

Ribbits of frogs and chirps of crickets filled the empty swamp with an eerie calm. In the dark of the night, only the creatures beneath the surface of the black water could see a boat pass through its littered streams, guided by nothing but an oar and the wind. Two passengers sat in the middle of the boat’s thin base. One an Elf, covered in green robes and twigs, guiding the oar through the murky waters with an expressionless face. The other an armor clad figure, his features covered by mask and hood, a sword strapped cleanly to his leather belt. Both traveled through the silence of the swamp. 

 

On beach of a nearby strip of land stood a shirtless figure with blue skin. In the dark of the night he couldn’t be defined as much, but the features that could be seen showed him to be a creature of strength and fortitude. As the boat approached he stood still, and as it docked he barely turned to look upon the two passengers.

 

“Clan of Lak.”

 

The cloaked September servant barked. He stepped off the boat, armor clinking with each fall into muddy shore as he passed through vines and thickets to approach. In response to him the Orc finally turned. 

 

In the midst of the night the two conversed on topics that seemed unimportant to none but they. Of the swamp and nature, of the world’s progression. Of the animals lurking in its depths and of those that live on its land. Of the buildings planted through each island, taking control of nature’s grasp. They conversed for what felt like hours, finally coming to a conclusion. Though split between two cultures, they two looked to nature as a bond between them. But soon the conversation shifted.

 

“September remains.” The Prince’s servant spoke. “The one who can topple cities with a swing and destroy Descendant armies with the snap of his fingers cannot be stopped by any Dwarf or Elf. His fist shatters hills like glass and his feet crush Descendants like ants. And as he prepares his next strike, I and my colleagues prepare for our own. We will defend his lands while he removes their own. It is us- those loyal to the Prince’s reign- that will show the weakness of his enemies, of those who hide in their stone cities and castles. Together, Lak, we will bring those that defy us to their knees. We can bring your people revenge against those that have wronged you.”

 

“You have our cleavers,” the Orc spoke in Blah. “Lak stands with September.”

 

“Then I will see you on the field. The Descendants will be faced with the ferocity of the beasts of the wild, the Orcish axes, and the hands of my kin.” The September servant spoke again. “And while we wait, we will make them bleed. Fields shall be burnt, unfaithful slaughtered, settlements returned to the Earth.”

 

“May (those) that stand against us fall to our metal.”

 

“September smiles upon those that stand with him. They shall feel his Wrath through blood and steel.”
 

[Pond 1069]

“May doze dat ztand aginzt Laklul agh nature, fall tu dah Zealotz ob Laklul.” The blue-hued orc spoke, peering into the forest of the Wonkawoods. “Dah Prince zhall prevail.” he said, standing up from his fixed postion in front of the Shrine of Laklul. 

[ScreamingDingo 20568]

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

 

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