Deep in the warm guts of the earth, AR allowed itself a smile. It had been a good fight, and a good day. Deep and deeper swam the Salamander, coasting along the infernal streams that twined their way through the heart of the planet -- waiting for the call to return and wreak its master's revenge against any who would wrong His people.
***
Miles above the Salamander, a small detachment of warriors rode from the gaping gates of Solaris. Mostada had found himself lying on the parched sand of the desert, surrounded by his men. He had crested a hill overlooking the great plain south of Solaris just in time to see AR -- a beast of legend, a myth, a champion of the Risen Son -- plunge into the ground.
Now he rode out to parley. To speak with the strange men and stranger Orcs who had appeared as if by magic (and surely by divine intent) and shaken the city to its roots.
There were words to be spoken, and plans to be made. The small column of troops approached the camp of the Shining Man -- the one who, at AR's side -- had apparently fought a being of ink before the gates of Solaris. Wordlessly, his men dismounted and drove their sabres deep into the sand. Two men remained with the weapons. The rest, unarmed, walked to the camp's gates and stood -- awaiting admittance or oblivion.
“You must be Argus,†said Vaki as she inwardly grimaced at the man’s wounds, “I am Vaki, one of the Shamanka of the Branch of Beasts. I have come to tell you we came here from our ancestral homeland because we had received divine instruction too, not to make war with you. If you speak of our meeting with your soldiers, that was not our work, but the work of the gods. We came to this continent to defend Solaris and overthrow Ag-.â€
Vaki’s monologue was cut off by an intruding priest, “Argus, we have received messengers from Solaris, should I invite them in too?â€
"So... the gods are responsible? So it is the gods who have burned Solaris, sent you, hexed my men, beset the city with a battle while we were afflicted by that sorcerous sleeep, nearly killed me with a Natterling, and then summoned a firefish to the battle? You are utterly ridiculous. It seems by your testament that the Son of Asher is also the most accursed man on the face of the earth!"
Argus gritted his teeth and leaned in as much as his strained body could, his jaw set in anger.
"Know this, Orc. I will press my men onward to the south and see whether or not this Agrin is a place of Men or of Orcs. The answer I find there I shall trust, not the words of some tree-worshipper. I will not be swayed by your words, for your actions have shown you to be tenuous allies with these Agrinians... and my suspicions will be confirmed when my army reaches the origins of their assault. Centurions, escort this "Priestess" out of the camp. I have heard enough Orcish lies for one day."
Argus hacked more blood from his chest as the guards brusquely led the Priestess from the camp.
"Now bring me the other emissaries, if they wish to speak with me. And bring me my mantle and my sword... I feel verily naked without them."
The summons came, and the men moved forward, linen robes sussurating in the cool breeze that had begun to blow from the forests in the east. When they reached the command tent, Mostada gestured minutely. All but one of his companions halted, crouching easily at the door of the tent.
Mostada strode into the tent and bowed smoothly to the seated general of the Asherites.
"Lord Argus -- the city of Solaris stands forever in your debt. We can never hope to repay you for your kindness, or for your steadfastness. We ask only that you deal fairly with us in our moment of weakness, and with the strange green ones who also came to our aid."
Mostada turned and indicated the dark-skinned man standing at his shoulder.
"My companion here has some skill in the use of the Lord Solar's more ... benevolent gifts. He will, if you wish, be able to ease your pain somewhat. Healing is not one of the domains of our God, but the warmth of the sun can be healthy as well as harmful. He also knows the desert well, as do many of our people. He is willing to travel with you when you leave the city, and he will stay with you until such time as you deem fit."
Mostada sighed.
"Solaris is in ruins. It will take years to rebuild. Our high priest, Ojah Starfriend, gave his life in the battle and we are now wandering directionless in the night. You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you wish -- and to return whenever you please. Our welcome for you will be eternally genuine, but will be.... temporarily meagre."
"General Argus, is there anything else that you require or desire from the city or its people? Warriors, horses, supplies -- name it and it shall be yours."
"I accept your offer of service to Asher," nodded Argus formally to Mostada's companion, before instructing to one of his attendants: "Find him a suitable uniform and suit of armor."
Argus bowed to Mostada, leaning on his sword Aethafang. It was good to be in the company of Men... those who knew of order, fealty, and respect.
"Mostada, I ask no reward for the protection of Men... it is my charge. I am grateful to be welcome in your lands, and shall maintain my camp here until I am fit to ride. I am saddened to hear of Ojal's death... but his sacrifice was a worthy one. His name shall be recorded by our scribes, and remembered with reverence."
"However... I am not convinced that these Greenskins have come to aid Men. Their behavior is too reckless, and their excuses are too convenient. When I am fit to ride I shall press toward the south to investigate the nature of your assailants."
"Any military forces that you would muster to join us in our march will be welcomed. Archers are sorely needed... and I have an inkling that catapaults and seige towers shall be needed as well. If you have these, or the materials and labor my engineers will need to construct them while I am encamped here, I will be most grateful."
Armour? In the desert? Was his new master mad? Gesh's eyes widened slightly, but he allowed himself no other reaction.
Luckily, Mostada must have sensed his oldest friend's discomfort, for he cleared his throat and spoke softly.
"As you think best, Lord Argus. Gesh, however, will be most valuable in your efforts if you heed his advice. The desert is a hard place, especially to men who dress in steel. Your armour is not so different from the mechanism we use -- used -- to execute criminals in Solaris."
Mostada shrugged. "As to your other requests, they should prove easy enough to satisfy. Our domain is not entirely parched. Forests exist to the east -- we will obtain timber from them soon enough. Runners have already been sent for wood to rebuild the city, and some of it can simply be diverted to your needs. We have never built machines such as you mention, but our craftsmen and labourers are skilled and hardy folk. They will learn soon enough."
Mostada flicked a finger toward the doorway, and a Solarian entered. Taller and leaner than Mostada or Gesh, he had the hard look of the professional fighter. He bowed slightly to Mostada and Argus.
"This," said Mostada, "is Tarh bin Artin bin Sol. He leads our most elite warband. There are no better mounted archers in the world than this man and his fighters. He will travel with you to the south and aid you however he can in the coming months. Accompanying him will be a band of warriors -- they are light cavalry and will not fight as you do, but they will prove their worth, I trust."
Tarh nodded to Argus once, and strode again from the tent. Mostada and Gesh watched him go.
Gesh spoke softly. "Be careful with that one, general. He is the best at what he does, but he is prideful. He will not allow the honour of Solaris to be tarnished by disappointing you, but he has his own honour as well."
Mostada gently interrupted Gesh. "Tarh will be fine, Gesh. The orcs are the more pressing matter. They did, indeed, appear in a sudden and alarming manner, but they had the opportunity to crush us like we were glass -- and they chose not to take it. We are too tired to trust, but we are too tired to mistrust, as well. Cable hit us hard... and then this war..."
Mostada trailed off. "I have spoken too much. I apologize, general. Is there anything else you need of me?"
"Your word, your blade, and your honor are strong and swift Mostada. These are the highest ideals of all Men. I humbly accept your favor, and only ask your leave now that I may rest... and thanks to you, I shall rest with thoughts of peace."
As the Solarians left, Argus collapsed onto his bed. His body ached with a supernatural pain... he wondered if this is what his father felt after his battle with Ngugu and Kiteph. The thought gave him some comfort as he drifted into sleep, the Warpriests doting upon his health.
Vaki knew she had to work quickly if she wanted to get her people off this continent without another confrontation with the Asherites. She quickly returned to her fellow orcs. She found them celebrating their victory with epic songs of fights and hunts and with a feast of very rare turbock, velocigeier eggs, and orcish beer.
Vaki got one of the velocigeiers out of its cage and hummed to it. Using the power of her tattoos, Vaki told the raptor what direction to go in and what smells to seek out. She then tied a string of orcish story beads to the velocigeiers leg, which roughly translated to: ‘Humans hunting orcs. Orcs go home.’ Vaki then let the raptor go; she did this several times so that not all the velocigeiers could be picked off by predators. With her goal accomplished, Vaki went to pack for the journey home to take her mind off what could come.
***
General Davus stood upon his donkey pulled chariot (as the people of Agrin did not have horses) shouting orders over the sound of battle. The enemy was easily being driven back; Davus could only hope his commanders where having as easy a time as him.
Suddenly a war horn sounded from the city. It was the trumpet of victory. One by one the flags that flew above the city walls where replaced by nearly identical ones. General Davus rode his chariot through the gates of Agrin to claim his throne.
A cold, dry wind blew as soon as the Hutani tribesmen had whispered. They shuddered, their bodies accustomed to the humid warmth of the jungle. When they discerned the direction from which the wind had come, so to did their blood feel chilled.
"From the Skull? From --"
"Do NOT speak its name!"
"You superstitious fools. I'm not afraid of some long-dead monstrosity. I'll bet none of you have ever even seen it."
"You mean you have?"
"Of course! Come on."
The Hutani strode through the jungle before they came upon a clearing wherin lay a colossal and monstrous skull... its structure was one of pure chaos... no symmetry, no pattern to the myriad eye sockets or nostrils... it was difficult to tell what was a tooth and what was a horn. Its very shaped evoked constant pain, suffering, and mutation. It was all that remained of Hidimva, the great Natterling that had perished by an unknown hand.
But something was amiss... the vines that once overgrew it had withered away, and all around it the grass and trees had a burned look, with no sign of fire. The place was cold, colder even than the wind that had blown.... and everything was covered in some mysterious glittering dust.
One of the tribesmen reached to the forest floor to touch it.
"What are you doing?"
"It's... it's cold... and my hand turns it to... water? What is this?"
"We should go! We should go now, and tell the Elders!"
The tribesmen dropped their weapons in horror... only able to stare on in speechless shock as the wind blew again and a voice spoke, it's timbre shaking as if it were made of howling animals.
"And what would your elders do... Humans? What would they do against Kzaag, The Wind of the North... the Servant of the Formless One... The Slayer of Hidimva?"
A whirling body of shadow and coalescing vapor began to form before their very eyes... vagely human, always changing shape... this was a being unknown... it had been gathering power since its battle with the Natterling, and had finally awakened. The Hutani had forgotten the Chaots, the servants of decay who once walked as men.
"Ul'aght Ul'aght Duggha Pthun..."
The words echoed with distorted resonance... and the skins of the Hutani turned black and withered as they fell to the ground dead, and the cold corruption crept further into the forest.
Kzaag tightened his corporeal form... it was rough and crude... but it would have to do for now. Substance would be a necessary annoyance for a time. It would be needed for all to hear the Infinite Names Of Chaos, to make the world sing for the master... so that the master would be called... so that once again the world would feel the divine embrace of Entropos.
He was an albino, though all his white hair had long ago fallen out. His skin was wrinkled and leathery and pale as sunlight. Among the tribes of Hutan, espcially among those who lived along the river, his name was both a blessing and a curse.
The women of the tribes spoke his legends. In his youth, he watched the dawn of the world. There, he stole his name from the gods and fled to the jungle. All the beasts, from the honorable Bumba the Silver Back to the despised Mahbaga, all saught to devour him, for he was named and they were not. Yet Niz Aiba, who had been crafty enough to steal his name from the heavens, outsmarted them all. All except Ezatiti, who almost devoured Niz Aiba when he entered the river. But Niz Aiba made a deal with the great alligator, and they were brothers ever since.
He lived in a hut made of reed and leaves, in the middle of the river. It was held up by the bones of the fallen, and every year his house grew taller and taller. Various tribes had saught to kill him and claim his power. The heads of those who opposed him hung from his roof. It's said he liked the sound of their skulls clattering when the wind howls.
Niz Aiba was a master of names. He knew the name of every tribesman in Hutan. He knew the name of every beast within the jungle, having named them all. He kept the names of the dead, and the names of those not yet born. He knew the names of the spirits, having bound half of them. He spoke the names of people who lived beyond the jungle, in lands of grass and sand. He knew the names of gods he claimed lived in those strange lands. After saying their names, he would spit twice and curse them.
Among the people of Hutan, whom hunted beasts and man alike, who had no need for gods and who bound spirits daily, a curse from Niz Aiba was more feared then death. They wondered, after the battles had been won or the beasts had been killed, when they allowed themselves to rest, what gods were these that Niz Aiba cursed them daily?
Kzagg turned from the mortals that had interrupted and pondered the great skull of Hidimva.
"Terrible you were in life... and in death I shall wear you as a trophy... and make you a beast of burden to the Will of Entropos. Gthr'Nzh!"
With a single word the Chaot sundered the massive skull into a multitude of jagged shards... some large, and some as smaller than could be seen by eye. On winds infused with the cold of the Outer Darkness, they flew to him and he assimilated them into his corporeal form... becoming more solid, more sturdy.
With the remains, he assembled a great mount... its form forever rearranging as it would shamble in his service. It was without sight, without mind, knowing only the will of its master, every movement of it's many jagged limbs a deafening noise, every scrape of its fang and horn-like protrusions poisoned with the chaos of the Formless One.
"Let us see if we can find what is left of Nuthugga... his remains shall serve us well, I think."
Kzagg plunged through the jungle atop his horrible bone-golem, and the thick vegetation broke and bowed before them. And softly he whispered the words of his master as he listened for him in the void... echoing them and bringing to the mortal plane the cold death of the Blackness Between Worlds that shook with the fitful sleep of the great Entropos.
Jagez awoke to the sight of the setting sun and quickly got dressed. As he stepped outside his tent he spotted Kraton and Dibug arguing over who got the last bit of snake.
“I caught the thing,†said Kraton.
“Well I cooked it,†said Dibug.
“That doesn’t mean shit, you’re a terrible cook and you know it,†responded Kraton.
Jagez, feeling both hungry and sick of their arguing walked up and stuffed the piece of snake in his mouth.
Kraton and Dibug both stood up.
“Hey, that was our breakfast!†shouted Dibug.
“Why’d you have to go and do that Jagez?†asked Kraton angrily.
“Because I slept in late and we have to get a move on if where going to reach the plains by sunrise. Now where’s Goztun?†responded Jagez.
Kraton pointed towards a tent, “Over there… I think.â€
Jagez walked towards the tent Kraton pointed to and went through the flap. Inside Jagez found Goztun meditating; the air was heavy with incense.
“So you’ve finally woken up Jagez,†stated Goztun as he rose, “I’m ready to leave. Lets go.â€
The four orcs packed their supplies onto the turbocks and headed off in the direction of the plains.
Upon the islands of the south sea lived a race of men. Being so isolated, as they were, from Solaris and the northern lands, they were as yet unknown to other mortals, and generally unthought of by the gods.
The island-men were tall, golden-skinned and dark haired. They served no one god, but paid their respects equally to all the gods of whom they knew – Solar the sun, Cable the Muse, Rashiid the wind, Svedre of the ocean tides, Codail and Faistine, of dreams and prophecy. If they favoured any god more than another, it would perhaps be Svedre, for they had a special love for the ocean. They were wise, in their fashion, for they listened to their elders and considered knowledge to be a great virtue. Their most learned men were elevated to the status of sage and held in high esteem.
It was said amongst the island-men that they emerged from an island to the east, although quite which isle no-one knew. At first, it seemed to them that the whole world was an ocean, for water lay on every horizon and the islands which made up their world were distant and small compared to the vastness of the sea. Nevertheless, the island-men were from the first instilled with the spirit of exploration, and their sea-craft was unparalleled. They built white ships, small and swift, and in them they sailed forth to colonise the whole of the archipelago.
The island-men discovered many new things, and each new thing they came across they gave a name, whether or not it was already possessed one. The archipelago they named Lydam, and themselves the Lydamas. The sea round about them they called Aedwar, which in the island-tongue is "Great Ocean". As the Lydamas expanded outwards, they fractured. Not being a hugely populous people, they did not dwell upon every island in Lydam, but in small city-states upon the lands which best met their needs, leaving uninhabited islands between them. Each city-state proclaimed its independence from its neighbours, having its own ruler and its own customs.
In this first age of expansion, the Lydamas sailed as far south as the northernmost peninsula of the southern continent where lies Sraidbhaile. Believing the peninsula to be an island, and seeing that it was deserted and destitute of vegetation, they did not land but returned to their homes, naming the place Barthbar: that is "desert isle".
To the north the Lydamas came no further than the three large islands which mark the edge of Lydam, and never to the further northern isle or the continent beyond. To the west, however, they quickly discovered the mainland; a vast expanse, it seemed to them, stretching from one horizon to the other. They mapped the east coast of the country, but their forays inland were short, and soon ceased altogether. For it seemed to them that a darkness lay over the land. The dreams of those explorers who set foot on the shore were troubled by ghastly images. The distant, looming mountains cast long shadows with the setting of the sun. The herb-men of the Lydamas, who some said could see into the spirit world, claimed that a slumbering presence lay beneath the surface of the earth and must not be awoken. The Lydamas retreated from the eastern continent, and named it Gauthia, meaning "cursed land".
So the Lydamas did not extend further than their island archipelago in the first age.
Their rapid expansion over, the Lydamas now settled into a somewhat more sustainable state. Trading partnerships grew up between cities in need of each others goods. Where trade was not wanted, goods were seized by force. Three north-eastern isles, each ruled by a king, found themselves particularly destitute of any precious metals, and low on arable land to support their growing population. As they had nothing to trade, they fell to war, and as each was as poor as their neighbours they formed an alliance to attack and pillage the southern islands. This alliance became known as Terth, and it soon grew wealthy from the plunder its red-sailed fleets brought back from more prosperous islands.
Unable to stand up to the might of the Three Kings while divided, a number of islands quickly formed a coalition which they named Omara. As strategic leader they elected Manadros, king of the island of Kulbar, and under his command sailed north in a unified fleet. They met the fleet of Terth on the open waters, and destroyed it, and sent the remnants fleeing back to the three isles.
Thereafter, Manadros convinced the rulers of the other islands of Omara to remain a coalition, under his command, and so to remain prepared against any further threats from Terth or elsewhere. It was therefore arranged that each of the islands should pay a certain fee towards the upkeep of Kulbar's navy, and that they should answer the call to arms of Manadros. Terth, meanwhile, after a brief period of infighting, fell into sullen silence.
A third nation formed from two of the islands which joined neither the cause of Omara nor the alliance of Terth. This nation was called Quira, and it was disliked by both other nations; by Omara for its cowardice in not joining the war against Terth, by Terth for its lack of military strength and its refusal to supply goods and arms to the Three Kings.
Of the other large and small islands of Lydam, most were uninhabited, trod only by the birds and the beasts.
This is a fairly large chunk of history, but I thought it would be best to bring things up to the point where the people can actually interact with other cultures. Everything above takes place at some point before the burning of Solaris. Here's an updated map:
The blue line is the extent of Lydamas exploration to date. The three purple circles are the nations of Terth (top left), Omara (bottom right) and Quira (the other one). The part of the lower continent that sticks into that area they call Barthbar. The sea they call Aedwar. Lydam is pronounced "lid-arm". There are also presumably a bunch of smaller islands between those bigger ones, too small to be seen on the map.
The band of orcs had passed safely through the territories of the mighty Khans and Asherites and had arrived at the ocean. After several days of hard labor the orcs managed to assemble the crude boat that would take them across the ocean to the continent that was the home to the Agrinians and Solarites.
As they boarded the ship, Goztun made a quick request to Svedre and Rashiid to carry them quickly and safely across the water. The journey to Sunport was short and uneventful; besides from the occasional brawl anyway.
The people of Sunport where at first nervous about the presence of the orcs, but once they noticed the large amount of goat weed the orcs had brought with them for trade they welcomed them with open arms. After several days spent gathering supplies at the Sunport, the orcs set sail to Port Fael; an Agrinian costal town. This journey took much longer then it should of because the orcs focused more on the fine Solarian booze they had picked up then actually sailing the ship.
“Is this Hutan?” asked Dibug
Kraton snorted, “Does this look like a jungle to you?”
Dibug looked at his feet in embarrassment, “We’ve been traveling for a long time. I just want to hunt.”
Jagez interrupted their conversation, “The sooner we stock up on supplies the sooner we can leave.”
The orcs only stayed at Port Fael for two days before they set sail for the shores of Hutan; which besides from the occasional storm was also an uneventful trip.
In the few short weeks the orcs had spent on the continent of Hutan they had managed to push deep into its oppressive heart. During their time in the jungle they had managed to hunt down and kill many animals both great and small; Dibug himself was now the proud owner of a fine jaguar cloak and Kraton had all the snake meat he could eat. Not all was well however, for over the last few days the group of orcs had had the feeling that something very powerful had been hunting them.
Unlike humans, orcs do not become panicked in the dark for orcs are nocturnal by nature. It was not tricks of the mind that told them something was not right; it was their eyes and ears and noses that told them that something was out there watching.
As the sun went down the orcs rose and prepared for their night of hunting. Jagez approached Goztun who was sitting at the edge of the camp.
Jagez leaned against a tree, “Is our visitor back?â€
Goztun nodded, then after several minutes of silence said, “Ever since we came here I’ve noticed an abundance of spirits, but these spirits seem different then the ones in Dâruzg. They seem much more powerful. Powerful and old; older then we are.â€
Jagez raised an eyebrow and took a bite out of a piece of tapir haggis. After he finished that mouthful, Jagez said, “So? None of us are that old.â€
Goztun shook his head, “How can you be so dense. I mean older then the orcs; maybe even older then the sasquatches.â€
“That’s old,†responded Jagez as he took another bite out of his haggis.
Dibug and Kraton approached the two orcs, “Where ready,†said Kraton.
“Okay,†said Jagez as Goztun stood up.
The hunting was great as usual.
Somewhere around midnight, a giant shadow charged out of the river and grabbed Dibug by his leg. As he was being dragged under, Dibug grabbed a hold of a thick branch; this slowed the beast long enough for the other orcs to take action. The beast was a giant caiman, about forty feet long. As the branch Dibug was holding onto snapped Kraton jumped onto the beasts back and jammed his spear into the back of its neck; causing a fountain of blood to spurt forth. In an attempt to dislodge him, the caiman preformed a death roll, but this just gave Jagez a chance to finish it off with a mighty blow from his axe.
As Goztun worked to pry open the caimans mouth and bind Dibug’s wounds, Jagez and Kraton took the time to pat each other on the back.
“That was awesome,†said Jagez as he beat his chest with excitement.
“That’s the sort of things that songs will be sung about years from now,†said Kraton.
“Yah, where just like Kraton God-Slayer,†responded Jagez.
As Jagez and Kraton worked to process their kill, Goztun grimaced; deep in the shadows they where still being watched…
Posts
***
Miles above the Salamander, a small detachment of warriors rode from the gaping gates of Solaris. Mostada had found himself lying on the parched sand of the desert, surrounded by his men. He had crested a hill overlooking the great plain south of Solaris just in time to see AR -- a beast of legend, a myth, a champion of the Risen Son -- plunge into the ground.
Now he rode out to parley. To speak with the strange men and stranger Orcs who had appeared as if by magic (and surely by divine intent) and shaken the city to its roots.
There were words to be spoken, and plans to be made. The small column of troops approached the camp of the Shining Man -- the one who, at AR's side -- had apparently fought a being of ink before the gates of Solaris. Wordlessly, his men dismounted and drove their sabres deep into the sand. Two men remained with the weapons. The rest, unarmed, walked to the camp's gates and stood -- awaiting admittance or oblivion.
Vaki’s monologue was cut off by an intruding priest, “Argus, we have received messengers from Solaris, should I invite them in too?â€
Argus gritted his teeth and leaned in as much as his strained body could, his jaw set in anger.
"Know this, Orc. I will press my men onward to the south and see whether or not this Agrin is a place of Men or of Orcs. The answer I find there I shall trust, not the words of some tree-worshipper. I will not be swayed by your words, for your actions have shown you to be tenuous allies with these Agrinians... and my suspicions will be confirmed when my army reaches the origins of their assault. Centurions, escort this "Priestess" out of the camp. I have heard enough Orcish lies for one day."
Argus hacked more blood from his chest as the guards brusquely led the Priestess from the camp.
"Now bring me the other emissaries, if they wish to speak with me. And bring me my mantle and my sword... I feel verily naked without them."
Mostada strode into the tent and bowed smoothly to the seated general of the Asherites.
"Lord Argus -- the city of Solaris stands forever in your debt. We can never hope to repay you for your kindness, or for your steadfastness. We ask only that you deal fairly with us in our moment of weakness, and with the strange green ones who also came to our aid."
Mostada turned and indicated the dark-skinned man standing at his shoulder.
"My companion here has some skill in the use of the Lord Solar's more ... benevolent gifts. He will, if you wish, be able to ease your pain somewhat. Healing is not one of the domains of our God, but the warmth of the sun can be healthy as well as harmful. He also knows the desert well, as do many of our people. He is willing to travel with you when you leave the city, and he will stay with you until such time as you deem fit."
Mostada sighed.
"Solaris is in ruins. It will take years to rebuild. Our high priest, Ojah Starfriend, gave his life in the battle and we are now wandering directionless in the night. You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you wish -- and to return whenever you please. Our welcome for you will be eternally genuine, but will be.... temporarily meagre."
"General Argus, is there anything else that you require or desire from the city or its people? Warriors, horses, supplies -- name it and it shall be yours."
Argus bowed to Mostada, leaning on his sword Aethafang. It was good to be in the company of Men... those who knew of order, fealty, and respect.
"Mostada, I ask no reward for the protection of Men... it is my charge. I am grateful to be welcome in your lands, and shall maintain my camp here until I am fit to ride. I am saddened to hear of Ojal's death... but his sacrifice was a worthy one. His name shall be recorded by our scribes, and remembered with reverence."
"However... I am not convinced that these Greenskins have come to aid Men. Their behavior is too reckless, and their excuses are too convenient. When I am fit to ride I shall press toward the south to investigate the nature of your assailants."
"Any military forces that you would muster to join us in our march will be welcomed. Archers are sorely needed... and I have an inkling that catapaults and seige towers shall be needed as well. If you have these, or the materials and labor my engineers will need to construct them while I am encamped here, I will be most grateful."
Luckily, Mostada must have sensed his oldest friend's discomfort, for he cleared his throat and spoke softly.
"As you think best, Lord Argus. Gesh, however, will be most valuable in your efforts if you heed his advice. The desert is a hard place, especially to men who dress in steel. Your armour is not so different from the mechanism we use -- used -- to execute criminals in Solaris."
Mostada shrugged. "As to your other requests, they should prove easy enough to satisfy. Our domain is not entirely parched. Forests exist to the east -- we will obtain timber from them soon enough. Runners have already been sent for wood to rebuild the city, and some of it can simply be diverted to your needs. We have never built machines such as you mention, but our craftsmen and labourers are skilled and hardy folk. They will learn soon enough."
Mostada flicked a finger toward the doorway, and a Solarian entered. Taller and leaner than Mostada or Gesh, he had the hard look of the professional fighter. He bowed slightly to Mostada and Argus.
"This," said Mostada, "is Tarh bin Artin bin Sol. He leads our most elite warband. There are no better mounted archers in the world than this man and his fighters. He will travel with you to the south and aid you however he can in the coming months. Accompanying him will be a band of warriors -- they are light cavalry and will not fight as you do, but they will prove their worth, I trust."
Tarh nodded to Argus once, and strode again from the tent. Mostada and Gesh watched him go.
Gesh spoke softly. "Be careful with that one, general. He is the best at what he does, but he is prideful. He will not allow the honour of Solaris to be tarnished by disappointing you, but he has his own honour as well."
Mostada gently interrupted Gesh. "Tarh will be fine, Gesh. The orcs are the more pressing matter. They did, indeed, appear in a sudden and alarming manner, but they had the opportunity to crush us like we were glass -- and they chose not to take it. We are too tired to trust, but we are too tired to mistrust, as well. Cable hit us hard... and then this war..."
Mostada trailed off. "I have spoken too much. I apologize, general. Is there anything else you need of me?"
As the Solarians left, Argus collapsed onto his bed. His body ached with a supernatural pain... he wondered if this is what his father felt after his battle with Ngugu and Kiteph. The thought gave him some comfort as he drifted into sleep, the Warpriests doting upon his health.
Vaki got one of the velocigeiers out of its cage and hummed to it. Using the power of her tattoos, Vaki told the raptor what direction to go in and what smells to seek out. She then tied a string of orcish story beads to the velocigeiers leg, which roughly translated to: ‘Humans hunting orcs. Orcs go home.’ Vaki then let the raptor go; she did this several times so that not all the velocigeiers could be picked off by predators. With her goal accomplished, Vaki went to pack for the journey home to take her mind off what could come.
General Davus stood upon his donkey pulled chariot (as the people of Agrin did not have horses) shouting orders over the sound of battle. The enemy was easily being driven back; Davus could only hope his commanders where having as easy a time as him.
Suddenly a war horn sounded from the city. It was the trumpet of victory. One by one the flags that flew above the city walls where replaced by nearly identical ones. General Davus rode his chariot through the gates of Agrin to claim his throne.
"What?"
"From... over there."
A cold, dry wind blew as soon as the Hutani tribesmen had whispered. They shuddered, their bodies accustomed to the humid warmth of the jungle. When they discerned the direction from which the wind had come, so to did their blood feel chilled.
"From the Skull? From --"
"Do NOT speak its name!"
"You superstitious fools. I'm not afraid of some long-dead monstrosity. I'll bet none of you have ever even seen it."
"You mean you have?"
"Of course! Come on."
The Hutani strode through the jungle before they came upon a clearing wherin lay a colossal and monstrous skull... its structure was one of pure chaos... no symmetry, no pattern to the myriad eye sockets or nostrils... it was difficult to tell what was a tooth and what was a horn. Its very shaped evoked constant pain, suffering, and mutation. It was all that remained of Hidimva, the great Natterling that had perished by an unknown hand.
But something was amiss... the vines that once overgrew it had withered away, and all around it the grass and trees had a burned look, with no sign of fire. The place was cold, colder even than the wind that had blown.... and everything was covered in some mysterious glittering dust.
One of the tribesmen reached to the forest floor to touch it.
"What are you doing?"
"It's... it's cold... and my hand turns it to... water? What is this?"
"We should go! We should go now, and tell the Elders!"
The tribesmen dropped their weapons in horror... only able to stare on in speechless shock as the wind blew again and a voice spoke, it's timbre shaking as if it were made of howling animals.
"And what would your elders do... Humans? What would they do against Kzaag, The Wind of the North... the Servant of the Formless One... The Slayer of Hidimva?"
A whirling body of shadow and coalescing vapor began to form before their very eyes... vagely human, always changing shape... this was a being unknown... it had been gathering power since its battle with the Natterling, and had finally awakened. The Hutani had forgotten the Chaots, the servants of decay who once walked as men.
"Ul'aght Ul'aght Duggha Pthun..."
The words echoed with distorted resonance... and the skins of the Hutani turned black and withered as they fell to the ground dead, and the cold corruption crept further into the forest.
Kzaag tightened his corporeal form... it was rough and crude... but it would have to do for now. Substance would be a necessary annoyance for a time. It would be needed for all to hear the Infinite Names Of Chaos, to make the world sing for the master... so that the master would be called... so that once again the world would feel the divine embrace of Entropos.
He was an albino, though all his white hair had long ago fallen out. His skin was wrinkled and leathery and pale as sunlight. Among the tribes of Hutan, espcially among those who lived along the river, his name was both a blessing and a curse.
The women of the tribes spoke his legends. In his youth, he watched the dawn of the world. There, he stole his name from the gods and fled to the jungle. All the beasts, from the honorable Bumba the Silver Back to the despised Mahbaga, all saught to devour him, for he was named and they were not. Yet Niz Aiba, who had been crafty enough to steal his name from the heavens, outsmarted them all. All except Ezatiti, who almost devoured Niz Aiba when he entered the river. But Niz Aiba made a deal with the great alligator, and they were brothers ever since.
He lived in a hut made of reed and leaves, in the middle of the river. It was held up by the bones of the fallen, and every year his house grew taller and taller. Various tribes had saught to kill him and claim his power. The heads of those who opposed him hung from his roof. It's said he liked the sound of their skulls clattering when the wind howls.
Niz Aiba was a master of names. He knew the name of every tribesman in Hutan. He knew the name of every beast within the jungle, having named them all. He kept the names of the dead, and the names of those not yet born. He knew the names of the spirits, having bound half of them. He spoke the names of people who lived beyond the jungle, in lands of grass and sand. He knew the names of gods he claimed lived in those strange lands. After saying their names, he would spit twice and curse them.
Among the people of Hutan, whom hunted beasts and man alike, who had no need for gods and who bound spirits daily, a curse from Niz Aiba was more feared then death. They wondered, after the battles had been won or the beasts had been killed, when they allowed themselves to rest, what gods were these that Niz Aiba cursed them daily?
"Terrible you were in life... and in death I shall wear you as a trophy... and make you a beast of burden to the Will of Entropos. Gthr'Nzh!"
With a single word the Chaot sundered the massive skull into a multitude of jagged shards... some large, and some as smaller than could be seen by eye. On winds infused with the cold of the Outer Darkness, they flew to him and he assimilated them into his corporeal form... becoming more solid, more sturdy.
With the remains, he assembled a great mount... its form forever rearranging as it would shamble in his service. It was without sight, without mind, knowing only the will of its master, every movement of it's many jagged limbs a deafening noise, every scrape of its fang and horn-like protrusions poisoned with the chaos of the Formless One.
"Let us see if we can find what is left of Nuthugga... his remains shall serve us well, I think."
Kzagg plunged through the jungle atop his horrible bone-golem, and the thick vegetation broke and bowed before them. And softly he whispered the words of his master as he listened for him in the void... echoing them and bringing to the mortal plane the cold death of the Blackness Between Worlds that shook with the fitful sleep of the great Entropos.
Berecht Niddhor.... Duggha Ptun
“I caught the thing,†said Kraton.
“Well I cooked it,†said Dibug.
“That doesn’t mean shit, you’re a terrible cook and you know it,†responded Kraton.
Jagez, feeling both hungry and sick of their arguing walked up and stuffed the piece of snake in his mouth.
Kraton and Dibug both stood up.
“Hey, that was our breakfast!†shouted Dibug.
“Why’d you have to go and do that Jagez?†asked Kraton angrily.
“Because I slept in late and we have to get a move on if where going to reach the plains by sunrise. Now where’s Goztun?†responded Jagez.
Kraton pointed towards a tent, “Over there… I think.â€
Jagez walked towards the tent Kraton pointed to and went through the flap. Inside Jagez found Goztun meditating; the air was heavy with incense.
“So you’ve finally woken up Jagez,†stated Goztun as he rose, “I’m ready to leave. Lets go.â€
The four orcs packed their supplies onto the turbocks and headed off in the direction of the plains.
The island-men were tall, golden-skinned and dark haired. They served no one god, but paid their respects equally to all the gods of whom they knew – Solar the sun, Cable the Muse, Rashiid the wind, Svedre of the ocean tides, Codail and Faistine, of dreams and prophecy. If they favoured any god more than another, it would perhaps be Svedre, for they had a special love for the ocean. They were wise, in their fashion, for they listened to their elders and considered knowledge to be a great virtue. Their most learned men were elevated to the status of sage and held in high esteem.
It was said amongst the island-men that they emerged from an island to the east, although quite which isle no-one knew. At first, it seemed to them that the whole world was an ocean, for water lay on every horizon and the islands which made up their world were distant and small compared to the vastness of the sea. Nevertheless, the island-men were from the first instilled with the spirit of exploration, and their sea-craft was unparalleled. They built white ships, small and swift, and in them they sailed forth to colonise the whole of the archipelago.
The island-men discovered many new things, and each new thing they came across they gave a name, whether or not it was already possessed one. The archipelago they named Lydam, and themselves the Lydamas. The sea round about them they called Aedwar, which in the island-tongue is "Great Ocean". As the Lydamas expanded outwards, they fractured. Not being a hugely populous people, they did not dwell upon every island in Lydam, but in small city-states upon the lands which best met their needs, leaving uninhabited islands between them. Each city-state proclaimed its independence from its neighbours, having its own ruler and its own customs.
In this first age of expansion, the Lydamas sailed as far south as the northernmost peninsula of the southern continent where lies Sraidbhaile. Believing the peninsula to be an island, and seeing that it was deserted and destitute of vegetation, they did not land but returned to their homes, naming the place Barthbar: that is "desert isle".
To the north the Lydamas came no further than the three large islands which mark the edge of Lydam, and never to the further northern isle or the continent beyond. To the west, however, they quickly discovered the mainland; a vast expanse, it seemed to them, stretching from one horizon to the other. They mapped the east coast of the country, but their forays inland were short, and soon ceased altogether. For it seemed to them that a darkness lay over the land. The dreams of those explorers who set foot on the shore were troubled by ghastly images. The distant, looming mountains cast long shadows with the setting of the sun. The herb-men of the Lydamas, who some said could see into the spirit world, claimed that a slumbering presence lay beneath the surface of the earth and must not be awoken. The Lydamas retreated from the eastern continent, and named it Gauthia, meaning "cursed land".
So the Lydamas did not extend further than their island archipelago in the first age.
Their rapid expansion over, the Lydamas now settled into a somewhat more sustainable state. Trading partnerships grew up between cities in need of each others goods. Where trade was not wanted, goods were seized by force. Three north-eastern isles, each ruled by a king, found themselves particularly destitute of any precious metals, and low on arable land to support their growing population. As they had nothing to trade, they fell to war, and as each was as poor as their neighbours they formed an alliance to attack and pillage the southern islands. This alliance became known as Terth, and it soon grew wealthy from the plunder its red-sailed fleets brought back from more prosperous islands.
Unable to stand up to the might of the Three Kings while divided, a number of islands quickly formed a coalition which they named Omara. As strategic leader they elected Manadros, king of the island of Kulbar, and under his command sailed north in a unified fleet. They met the fleet of Terth on the open waters, and destroyed it, and sent the remnants fleeing back to the three isles.
Thereafter, Manadros convinced the rulers of the other islands of Omara to remain a coalition, under his command, and so to remain prepared against any further threats from Terth or elsewhere. It was therefore arranged that each of the islands should pay a certain fee towards the upkeep of Kulbar's navy, and that they should answer the call to arms of Manadros. Terth, meanwhile, after a brief period of infighting, fell into sullen silence.
A third nation formed from two of the islands which joined neither the cause of Omara nor the alliance of Terth. This nation was called Quira, and it was disliked by both other nations; by Omara for its cowardice in not joining the war against Terth, by Terth for its lack of military strength and its refusal to supply goods and arms to the Three Kings.
Of the other large and small islands of Lydam, most were uninhabited, trod only by the birds and the beasts.
The blue line is the extent of Lydamas exploration to date. The three purple circles are the nations of Terth (top left), Omara (bottom right) and Quira (the other one). The part of the lower continent that sticks into that area they call Barthbar. The sea they call Aedwar. Lydam is pronounced "lid-arm". There are also presumably a bunch of smaller islands between those bigger ones, too small to be seen on the map.
As they boarded the ship, Goztun made a quick request to Svedre and Rashiid to carry them quickly and safely across the water. The journey to Sunport was short and uneventful; besides from the occasional brawl anyway.
The people of Sunport where at first nervous about the presence of the orcs, but once they noticed the large amount of goat weed the orcs had brought with them for trade they welcomed them with open arms. After several days spent gathering supplies at the Sunport, the orcs set sail to Port Fael; an Agrinian costal town. This journey took much longer then it should of because the orcs focused more on the fine Solarian booze they had picked up then actually sailing the ship.
“Is this Hutan?” asked Dibug
Kraton snorted, “Does this look like a jungle to you?”
Dibug looked at his feet in embarrassment, “We’ve been traveling for a long time. I just want to hunt.”
Jagez interrupted their conversation, “The sooner we stock up on supplies the sooner we can leave.”
The orcs only stayed at Port Fael for two days before they set sail for the shores of Hutan; which besides from the occasional storm was also an uneventful trip.
Unlike humans, orcs do not become panicked in the dark for orcs are nocturnal by nature. It was not tricks of the mind that told them something was not right; it was their eyes and ears and noses that told them that something was out there watching.
As the sun went down the orcs rose and prepared for their night of hunting. Jagez approached Goztun who was sitting at the edge of the camp.
Jagez leaned against a tree, “Is our visitor back?â€
Goztun nodded, then after several minutes of silence said, “Ever since we came here I’ve noticed an abundance of spirits, but these spirits seem different then the ones in Dâruzg. They seem much more powerful. Powerful and old; older then we are.â€
Jagez raised an eyebrow and took a bite out of a piece of tapir haggis. After he finished that mouthful, Jagez said, “So? None of us are that old.â€
Goztun shook his head, “How can you be so dense. I mean older then the orcs; maybe even older then the sasquatches.â€
“That’s old,†responded Jagez as he took another bite out of his haggis.
Dibug and Kraton approached the two orcs, “Where ready,†said Kraton.
“Okay,†said Jagez as Goztun stood up.
The hunting was great as usual.
Somewhere around midnight, a giant shadow charged out of the river and grabbed Dibug by his leg. As he was being dragged under, Dibug grabbed a hold of a thick branch; this slowed the beast long enough for the other orcs to take action. The beast was a giant caiman, about forty feet long. As the branch Dibug was holding onto snapped Kraton jumped onto the beasts back and jammed his spear into the back of its neck; causing a fountain of blood to spurt forth. In an attempt to dislodge him, the caiman preformed a death roll, but this just gave Jagez a chance to finish it off with a mighty blow from his axe.
As Goztun worked to pry open the caimans mouth and bind Dibug’s wounds, Jagez and Kraton took the time to pat each other on the back.
“That was awesome,†said Jagez as he beat his chest with excitement.
“That’s the sort of things that songs will be sung about years from now,†said Kraton.
“Yah, where just like Kraton God-Slayer,†responded Jagez.
As Jagez and Kraton worked to process their kill, Goztun grimaced; deep in the shadows they where still being watched…