THE SAGA OF JOTNAR

  Heavy hung the head of mighty Jotnar as he piled the last corpses of his clan on the blazing pyre. He cried not, as the freezing rains did that for him. He said no prayers to his gods. Grim was his thoughts. Revenge is the only word that came into his mind. The cold winds howled and he knew the only way to warm himself was with the blood of his enemies. Axe in hand and hate in his heart, he readied himself for a slaughter.

 Looking at his people smoldering away to ash he donned his father’s war helm and sheathed the two short swords that had once belonged to his sons. He didn’t say goodbye as he turned his back on the only place he called home. He knew he would not return nor did he know where he would go. That was much too far ahead of his current plan. The enemy had been swift in their murderous raid, though he knew their scent well and their tracks were fresh, even in the dark.

Jotnar charged through the dark hilled forests like a raging mastodon. Thunder and rain were the only noises to be heard besides his heavy breathing. His heart felt like molten lava about to erupt from his chest. He was anxious for battle, his axe hungry for the kill. A pack of hungry wolves steered clear of him as he leapt from rock to rock crashing through the thick twisted trees. His father’s war helm made him to appear as a massive boar on the hunt. The wolves whimpered as he clenched his axe in both hands, finally slowing his pace. He knew the bastards were close. He could taste their foulness in the air.

He did not know their numbers nor did he care. He hoped if anything there were enough to build a throne of skulls high enough for the gods to see. Slowly he stalked his prey, his breathing now becoming steady. Step by step he advanced on them. Their arrogant ways and carefree attitude would be their undoing. The camp was filled with a dozen small fires and many of them were no longer wearing their armor. He smiled as he stepped forward out of the darkness. They stared at him unsure of who he was at first. He counted thirty of them. He moved his head side to side as he sized up his foe.

“I am Jotnar , last of Clan Gorgrom. I have come for your heads!"

 With a mighty roar he launched his axe at the first to make a move and unsheathed his sons’ swords to slice and hack his way through the thick of them. Arrows shot out past him and the enemy sprang to meet him, the giant Jotnar in combat. His war cries shook the heavens it seemed as thunder rolled on. Bodies fell around him as he spilled guts and cleaved heads and arms clean from their bodies. Their soft, pale skin was no match for the brutality of his war dance. It was a haze of bone breaking bloodshed and the swirl of golden hair and polished armor. His enemy was fast beyond the reckoning of Man, but they died just the same. He splintered their glittering spears with his axe and sword. Crushed their skulls with head-butts from his father’s war helm and stomped their lives out of them in the mud. Foe after foe died screaming at the barbarian that swung axe and sword, carving aterrible and bloody path. Their screams for mercy meant nothing to Jotnar.

 Less than half remained; the bodies lay all around him, pools of blood and limbs mixing with the soft earth.  He raised his arms in defiance as more arrows flew to meet him. He swatted them away in pure annoyance. Removing the helm he snarled and roared again.

“Look upon my face and into my eyes elf-things! May it be the last vision you have before I send you to the abyss! Come you spineless cowards; die by my hand as my people died at yours ,you dogs!” He charged again. His axe sang a death song like no other, his father would have been proud.

 Three Elf heads flew into the air from his attack and two more stepped in to parry his axe. He cursed them to their faces and spat in their eyes. He shoved them back and to the ground with his massive shoulders and plunged his sword through their bodies until he felt the earth touch his blade. His continued his wrath of butchering any who rose to meet him in battle. He took great pleasure in seeing their faces as their souls left their eyes. Some of their spears bore into him or some lucky swipe of their elf steel had cut him, but for each strike mighty Jotnar gave, an elf fell in pieces.

Two more squared off with Jotnar. Somehow he knew they were different. Their armor was of heavier metals and their heads were shaved clean. Their deep set eyes focused on the blood covered Jotnar, his muscles rippling as he barely controlled his anger and contempt for them.  He knew what they were now as they circled him and became poised to strike as one.

Jotnar spat and growled deeply.

“Honor Guard swine. No honor in killing small children and old men while they sleep. Come, test your blades against my axe ! “

The two Elves said nothing as they attacked in unison, spinning and side stepping Jotnar’s attacks as they stabbed and sliced at him. The speed at which they did so almost blinded him, but he had not a care for the mere scratches and punctures their long swords made. He had no fear of death and would continue to kill until he could lift his hands to kill no more.

He was bleeding from a multitude of wounds. The Elves became frustrated and began to attack out of tune with each other, hoping to end Jotnars life. It was their mistake. One of them over extended his sword arm and was grabbed so fiercely by Jotnar that his throat was nearly crushed. He turned him so quick that the second Elf did not have time to react as his own sword pierced his battle brother right through the belly. Jotnar laughed and threw the whelp aside as he kicked the stunned elf to the ground. He did not have time to feel sorry for killing his own comrade as Jotnar swung his axe, sending his head towards the last combatant who had been standing in silence the entire time.

“ You must be their captain aye ? “ He asked wiping the blood and flesh from his axe.

His high cheek bones and flaxen braids and cold gray eyes made Jotnars blood boil. He was not a common elf thing like the others, no he was a High Elf from beyond the Mountains of Durran. His armor was ornate and his cloak no doubt was of the finest silks.

“I am Gaelwyn Heylborn, Warden of my Lords Realm.” He bowed to Jotnar , though his eyes burned with hate.

“Your lords realm ? Since when do Elf things rule OUR lands! ?! My clan has made our home here for generations you arrogant dog ! By what right to kill innocents while they sleep? Burn our crops and slay every last one to the pup? Your lord’s head must be full of piss and shit.” Jotnar trembled as he fought the urge to strike down the elf captian.

“For years your clan has fought our cousins to the West. For years you have been a thorn in my Lords side, aiding raiders from across the Sea of Woe and sending your best warriors to join the armies of Heimdull. Innocent I think not. It’s in your blood , Orc. You cannot live in harmony amongst us here in the Realm. That is why we deemed it necessary to be rid of you once and for all. “Gaelwyn stated as he drew his gleaming sword.

Jotnar’s  eyes narrowed and his hands tightened on his axe handle.

“Half-Orc ,you elf dog. I am both and neither and you shall remember my name, even after your death.”

 Gaelwyn nodded to his adversary as he swung upwards with his blade and drove his knee into Jotnar in one fluid motion. Jotnar reeled but stayed on his feet, the sting of a fresh cut he began to feel. He realized his ear was no longer there, he scoffed at the elf. He was even faster than his Honor Guards. Gaelwyn twirled his blade, the flash of lightning bouncing off its mirrored polished steel. His face was without emotion as he beckoned Jotnar for another go with his open palm.

“High born bastard.” Jotnar hissed as he gave the elf a long sweep with his axe.

Gaelwyn leapt above the axe blade to avoid losing his legs, only to feel the hammer like blow of Jotnars left hand into his chin. The elf was dazed by the swiftness of the riposte. Jotnar had over a dozen wounds and had been fighting for hours and still showed no sign of weakness. Gaelwyn increased his attacks; stabbing and cutting at the mighty half orc, hoping to slow the beast down for a killing blow. He began to sweat and his eyes betrayed him. Jotnar knew the look as he had seen it in a hundred faces, on a hundred battlefields.

The fear began to creep into his mind, the nervousness of not knowing how to defeat your rival in hand to hand combat. Gaelwyn began taking to the defense as Jotnar assailed him with such vicious precision, the elf captain’s armor buckled and his blade shattered like shards of glass. He fell to the mud. Jotnar kicked him relentlessly, the elfs ribcage crushing into himself.  Jotnar’s axe rose and fell into the elf’s shoulders and torso, armor splintering and hot blood spewing from the severity of his blows.

Gaelwyn looked up into Jotnars eyes. He could barely keep from falling over as he tried to curse the half orc. Only a bloody froth left his lips though.

“I hope to kill you again in the afterlife again elf dog, but for now this will do.” 

 He grabbed Gaelwyns head by his blood and sweat soaked golden braids, lining up for the death blow. His breathing was easy again; his heart was hotter than the depths of the seven hells.  His axe hand was steady as he pulled it back; his grip was iron and eyes colder than the vast tundra.

“HAIL CLAN GORGROM ! “  Jotnar bellowed as his axe cleaved his enemies head from his body, a cascade of gore showering him in sweet vengeance.

FOR COREY

INTO THE LIGHT : 1

The long years of peace between the fall of Heimduul and the rise of Aluric belonged to the mages and seers. The keepers of knowledge and magic shared with the peoples of Ahmirez, Moier, Iconii and Durran. Even in the dark lands of Pelegrin past the dread forest of Zeohl, the Orc, Troll and Ogre lived in peace with the Humans of this world. It was said that the warrior wizard Ukaar Iconii named this planet after the star god, which he worshipped. His name was Gladius, a warrior who fought for the Sun God Ophear, against the Darkness. Thus many a warrior sought to be like him; brave, fearless and honorable. Gladius was strong and faithful to the Lord of Light Ophear. It was said that he had cast Varg out of the galaxy and into the Realm of Death. Out of the light Varg lives on and his Legions heed his call through the darkness.

Cital Bont, Karnak the One Eye and Haezues Stormchild were three warrior lords in this time period. It was these three friends who destroyed the evil mage Heimduul with the help of Master Albrecht. Now they pledged their swords and axes to the dream of peace. I tell you this friend because only I remember the spirit of those long gone days. It was I, Tarak Gaijanmora, who kept court in the Library of Sathuli the Adored. I am the chosen teller of the History of our peoples, the scribe of Gladius. Yes, I am blessed with longevity so I can continue telling the tales, so all will remember where we came from, and where we are going.

It was a time of peace yes, but that peace was maintained with a heavy toll. Cital Bont ruled the lands of Ahmirez, Karnak ruled the rocky plains of Durran and to the south Haezues sat on the throne of Moier. Lord Albrecht continued to give counsel and held democratic proceedings in Iconii, but still there was whisperings that war could break out at any moment. Nomadic tribes still roamed the earth and the followers of Varg were always amongst them. Lord Albrecht was not a king, he did not rule the kingdom of Iconii, and no one did. He merely looked after its affairs and saw to it that Ukaar Iconiis vision of a free world was kept. He was wise beyond his years and knew much of magic and science. Many of the worlds mages came to hear his teachings as did warriors who wished to learn the discipline of combat. Albrecht was in direct contact with Sathuli constantly. It was her Library that contained the spells and of which banished Heimduuls’ soul after his body perished.

None were ready for the coming of the dark ones though, not even Lord Albrecht. Serbitear the Slayer came from the frozen northlands beyond the Pelegrin River. Hedross came from lands across the ocean, a ferocious barbarian whose army consisted of demons and beast-men. Osgolath the Doombringer, scourge of the South had finally come into power. Yet the worst was still to be seen. His name had been whispered before, The Keeper of the Realm of Death he was called. Gorgoroth. There are hundreds of scrolls of which recount his evil deeds through the long years. It was said he could not die, his powers given to him by Varg himself. Ogres had begun emerging from the dark lands of Pelegrin, a sure sign that he had returned home. The Tower of Heimduul was sure to be his soon. A council was held immediately in the kingdom of Moier.

" Lord Albrecht, my warriors are ready to fight. We number in the tens of thousands. Every able-bodied warrior is ready to defend Moier. Can I say the same for anyone else? Are you all prepared to lay down your lives in the name of peace?" Haezues Stormchild asked, pacing around his throne room.

" Master Stormchild, I believe this war will not be won by sheer numbers alone. Blood will be spilt on both sides, yes but this fight is one of faith. The Doombringer has employed many a sorcerer of the Black Hand and we all know that Serbitear is a servant of the War God. Hedross’ army is one of which your people have never seen. Gladius save us, for my fears have become true. Torches have been lit in Heimduul….Gorgoroth……is here. It would seem the tides of evil are to all hit at once. We must evacuate the farmlands and villages. Soon the enemy will be upon us, none will be spared. Our kingdoms are spread too thin to try and protect it by force alone. I leave the fate of your people in your hands my son. I will do my best to protect Iconii as well the Library of Sathuli." Lord Albrecht let out a heavy sigh.

Karnak the One Eye cleared his massive throat.

" I say we take the fight to them! I would rather face them on the open steppe than hiding behind walls. Cital only has that fiend Gorgoroth to worry about, but my men must face Hedross and Serbitear. I say we attack them! Cut them down as they hit our sea ports and rivers. If what my seer has said is correct they number in the millions. I will not sit and wait to die while I can hunt these dogs!" He finished with slamming his drinking horn on the table.

Cital Bont stood up slowly.

" Karnak has a valid point friends. I also will not wait for my lands to be invaded. That is not the way of the Ahmirez. I understand that Iconii is a hollowed land, sacred to all. We do not have much in the ways of magic…we are fighting men, we are the Gladius Honori are we not? My men also number in the tens of thousands. I do not know if Gorgoroth has raised an army, but I know if he does it will surely be of the Orcish and Goblin. Either way, I will not wait to meet him in battle. He fought my father in the battle for the highlands some three decades ago. My father defeated him then and so shall I! I know not if he is human nor do I care. The Ahmirez will lend aid to whomever needs it."

Lord Albrecht stiffly smiled. He hoped they would listen to his council, but as always the men of Gladius were a proud warrior race. They would never back up or cower in their castles and keeps.

" We have reports that the agents of Hedross already stalk my rocky domain. My warriors seek them now. I suggest you all do the same in your own lands. Lord Albrecht, you know I respect you like no other but your magics will not save your people from the wrath of steel. You too must don your armor and sword. It is the only way. The dream of peace is dying. We must fight to keep it from becoming dead." Karnak said rising from the table to leave.

" Master Karnak, do not be hasty. You know as well as I do that Suydan the Seer gave you the same advice as I have. You must not rush so quick to your death. Is your lust for martial prowess stronger than your sense man?" Lord Albrecht asked.

Karnak sneered and continued walking out of the throne room. Haezues stirred in anger, throwing his chalice across the hall.

" That foolish bastard! He going to get all his people slaughtered and will leave the steppes open for the enemy! " Haezues roared.

" Have faith in him my friend, he knows what is best for his people as you do for yours. I myself will take a war party into Pelegrin and attack Heimduul Tower, the rest of my Legion shall garrison here."

Cital Bont bowed his head and then saluted by crossing his arms. Lord Albrecht stood as well. They left the throne room together, hoping to find Karnak on the Keeps steps. Instead Tarak Gaijanmora, the scribe, greeted them with a warm smile.

" May Gladius and Ophear protect you my friends. I must go now. The mages, seers and wizards of this world hold summit in Iconii. I will send as many of them to you once our meeting is over. You will need them more than ever."

Tarak embraced his young friends and shuffled off.

Osgolath fastened his armor and tied his leather belt tight around his waist. His two short swords hung at his sides and a war-club was strapped to his back. With His dirty brown hair tied back he began applying his war paint. His servant scurried into his tent, wheezing and muttering.

" Master?’ he hissed.

" What is it Zazo? I’m busy you worm." Osgolath growled.

The servant said nothing, just presenting his master with an item wrapped in black velvet.

" Gorgoroth sends you a gift master…." Zazo whined.

Osgolath grimaced. He had never met the sorcerer warlord but knew his reputation. He wondered what could the Keeper of Death want with him. He yanked the package from Zazos’ hands and kicked him aside. He unwrapped it quickly and gasped at its content. The blade itself seemed to be pure black obsidian, though it was clearly forged by metal. It’s crimson handle and brass pommel were engraved with all manner of symbols, some of Varg and some he did not recognize. It was a foot in width and nearly four feet long. It’s beauty was matched by it’s lethal appearance. Blasphemous words were etched along the blade and a note was attached to the hilt. Osgolath shivered has he unrolled it, realizing it was made of flesh and not of paper.

It read: GREETINGS DOOMBRINGER, I OFFER YOU THE BLADE OF HEIMDUUL. MAY IT'S BLACK POWERS BRING DEATH AND MALICE TO YOUR FOES. EACH DEATH FEEDS THE DEMON WITHIN. I SHALL SEE YOU SOON, MAKE THEM FEAR THE DARK ONCE MORE. GORGOROTH.

" See me soon aye? No doubt he wants me as a servant and not an equal. Hmm, thus accursed blade belonged to Heimduul then. Very interesting. " He now held a blade that was bound to a demon, and the blade to it. Yet he was now both their master.

Striding out of his tent, he donned his hog faced war helm and climbed onto his dark steed. He nodded to the priests of the Black Hand and unsheathed the sword of Heimduul for all to see. The horde all seemed to gasp as one as they realized Osgolath had been chosen by Varg himself.

" Varg has blessed us this night! May you spill the blood of the weak! Show no mercy to the people of Moier! Glory to the Southlands! We march for war my brothers! " Osgolath shouted, spurring his steed to the battlefield as his army moved as one, the earth quaking under their feet.

"FAITH"

Gorgoroth strode amongst the dead and the dying, his evil blade rending any who stood against him. His eyes burned a hellish crimson as he reveled in the carnage of battle. The proud warriors of the Gladius Honori perished at his feet as he swathed his way to their lord. Marcus Ahmirez stood defiantly against his blasphemous foe. He held his sword in both hands, whispering their Prayer of Strength, hoping it would be enough to give him courage to defeat the black warrior lord of Varg, the Keeper of the Realm Of Death.
“ Strength, honor and might, Aluric gave us the will to fight! To the abyss with you demon! I will not let you pass me!” Marcus screamed his sword raised high above his plumed helm.
A deep bellowing growl came from within the charging sorcerer warlord.
“ Whelp! I will rape your soul and my harlots shall devour your body! I am the servant of Varg! Cross blades with me young Ahmirez, you shall fall like your precious Aluric! Ha! Fool, your feeble god Orphear can not protect in the Darkness! I rule the realm of oblivion, I reign supreme in the blackness! “ Gorgoroth howled as he brought his evil blade down on Marcus’ sword.
The clash sounded like thunder against cliffs. The earth shook as they began their duel of death.
They danced and side stepped each other, their swords clashing to the sounds of dying humans and goblin warriors. Gorgoroth’s body trembled as fresh power surged into him, his soul quivered from within as the power of Varg swam through his veins.
“ Pray worm, that my sword swipes your head from your proud shoulders before the demon within claims your essence! My wolves shall feast on your innards and your carcass shall make a festive cloak for mine self!”
Marcus rolled forward and drove his blade into Gorgoroth’s side. He screamed and wretched a foul black mucous while back handing Marcus to the floor.
“ Whores child! That blow will be your last!” Gorgoroth spat.
He swung his sword in a mind numbing arc, at deadly speeds.
Marcus gasped, and tried to block his assailants advances.
Finally, Marcus arms gave, and Gorgoroth struck a catastrophic blow. Gorgoroths blade shredded into Marcus’ shoulder blade, almost splitting him in two. Marcus sank to the floor, crying in frustration, cursing his enemy.
He slumped to his knees, his blood pouring like a broken water vein.
Gorgoroth laughed and sheathed his sword.
“ What entertainment your opposition has been, of all the races the Ahmirez always have gave me the most the jovial show! You fight with an abandon that I have never seen! I admire your kind for their stubbornness! Tell me young lord, what makes you think you will ever be rid of me? I am the storm that never tires, I shall rend your wretched little souls from now until eternity. What makes you think you could ever defeat me?”
Gorgoroth kicked Marcus.
Marcus spat blood, his face stern his fate resolved. He smiled at Gorgoroth.
“ Faith.” Marcus said, trying to stall his death.
Gorgoroth sneered.” Faith in whom you wretch?”
“ Faith in the Light, faith in my people, faith in knowing that one day my lineage will banish you to the depths of Hell so you never return! Your no more than a rat living off the scraps of a wolf!” Marcus raged.
Gorgoroth ceased his smiling and closed his eyes. “ That will never be foolish child of Gladius. I am a wolf of the likes that which this world has, will and always see.Cry to your ancestors in your sad Vaulhalios now!” Gorgoroth snarled cleaving Marcus’ head from his shoulders.

AND ANGELS WEEP

Aarseth rode his mighty steed through the twisted forest of Zeohl under the cover of dense fog. The only sounds were of the hammering of the stallion’s hooves and the howls of wolves.
Uriel followed as best he could, his brother at-arms charging recklessly ahead. The moonlight vaguely shone through the black mist, the wolves of Zeohl growling as they pressed on.
" Brother, should we not slow our advance? The enemy might be privy to our position." Uriel asked.
" Bah! I care not for the minions of that accursed bastard! To the Realm of Death with his underlings! Ride on brother! Gorgoroth must die!" Aarseth bellowed, pulling the reigns on his steed harder.
Uriel frowned in displeasure. The forest of Zeohl gripped him with fear, fear that he cared not to admit. His heart weighed heavy with concern for Aarseth. The mage Obadiah warned the brothers of letting their emotions cloud their judgment. Aarseth dismissed his counsel and donned his armor setting off for Gorgoroths tower of madness. Heimduul Tower was ancient even to the Eldars of Aluric, its walls said to drive men mad and take the souls of the weak. Uriel could understand his hasty reaction, Aarseths daughter and wife were murdered. Sacrificed to the Demons of Varg- the Black Prince, Lord of the Realm of Death. Gorgoroth was his keeper, his warlord here in the lands of Ahmirez.
Reaching the forests end, they dismounted and armed themselves.
Aarseth carried his massive battle-axe, thrice blessed by the High Priests of Ahmirez and imbued with spells of strength by Obadiah.
Uriel had only his bronze shield and scimitar. Both wore the armor of their forefathers; Crimson leather lined with silver and braced with steel plating, and wore the traditional leather quilt of the Gladius Honoris. They wore no helmets, so the enemy knew who came to slay them.
" From here on brother, we walk the dread lands of Varg. Be strong, let your faith in battle carry you to victory. Fear no man, demon or beast, you are a warrior of the Halls of Aluric. Show no mercy to the fiends of Varg!" He crossed his arms in salute to Uriel and strode ahead of his brother. Uriel looked back at the forest of Zeohl, its tangled mess of nightmarish trees seemed nothing compared to the horrors that lay ahead. Had Aarseth waited but a mere hour they would have had the entire Legion of Aluric at their side. Too late for that. Battle would soon be upon them and only death would satisfy his brothers thirst for vengeance.
The rocky path to Heimduul Tower was narrow and dark. Numerous caverns and tunnels ran along side it and the people of Ahmirez whispered of monstrosities from beyond the comprehension of mortals. Yet the brothers trekked on, climbing the black stairs towards the throne of Gorgoroth. They leaped from step to step. Ignoring the lesser goblins and swatting down the winged demonettes as they swooped low.
Aarseths axe was smeared with the filthy blood of the goblins as they headed into the archway that lead into the Towers pavilion.
" At the ready Uriel, here they will strike. " he said pointing to the central area directly in front of the entrance.
" I am ready brother." Uriel said banging his sword on his shield.
Together they went, side by side. Two warriors of the Halls of Aluric, sons to the Lords of Ahmirez. Walking into the perpetual horror that was Heimduul Tower, abode of Gorgoroth, the Keeper of Death. Insane laughter, the screams of wicked creatures and the putrid smell of burning flesh cut the cold air. Aarseth motioned for Uriel to make for the Tower door. Uriel wasted no time springing to his feet. Aarseth was about to follow suit when he was hammered to the floor. He rolled on his side, and kicked out at whatever had assailed him. Even in the gloom Aarseth could see the grotesque beast that loomed above him. It had no eyes, its massive jaws sporting fantastic glistening fangs. Its body covered in strange pattern of scales and thick coarse hair. Its jug-ears were pierced numerous times and where its eyes should have been intricate tattoos of accursed scriptures sat instead.
Uriel charged to Aarseth, hoping to give distraction to the beast. Instead, his feet flew out from beneath him and he too slammed into the rocky earth. Uriel swung out his sword in a deathly arc, taking the arm of the creature that blocked his path. It shrieked in pain but attacked again. Aarseth was on his feet, dodging the huge monster and striking his massive body to no avail.
Uriel charged the one armed beast using his shield, pinning it up against the archway wall. It lashed out but He stabbed it again and again, its nauseating blood spilling to the ground. It crumbled to the floor and Uriel ran to aid Aarseth. The sheer size of the monster would drive lesser men insane. It was three grown men tall and four wide. It swung a huge club-no doubt a tree trunk, at Aarseth. The battle hardened warrior anticipated its every move though, dodging and side stepping its thunderous blows. Aarseth eventually ducked underneath the beast and climbed his backside, hanging on to his viscous scales and mangy fur. The beast shook violently, desperately trying to be rid of Aarseth. Uriel slashed at the beasts arms and legs, careful not to be hit by the gigantic club.
" To the Realm of Death with you fiend!" Aarseth howled his rage, bringing down his axe into the beasts hideously huge skull.
The pungent, vile blood spewed like a geyser but still the monster fought on. It howled its fury and began to glow in the darkness.
" Aarseth!, cried Uriel," Strike his eyeless face! It has to be its source of power!"
Aarseth said nothing, grinding his teeth and grunting to stay atop the monsters shoulders. Meanwhile armored goblins of various sizes rushed out the Tower door, wailing under the moonlight.
Uriel turned and rose his sword to the his new foes.
" For transgressions against the peoples of Ahmirez, you of the Orcish know death better than any…..make your peace with Varg, prepare to die!"
The goblin mob screamed their war cries as Uriel charged at them, his sword swinging true, sending the first three goblins heads sailing over the rest. He blocked their axes and machetes, spinning and leaping, stabbing and hacking. Within two minutes of brutal close combat, none stood. Uriel turned to see Aarseth, smashing his axe into the beasts tattooed forehead.
The beasts head exploded. Pure dark energy escaping, its evil blood shooting in every direction. Aarseth somersaulted off the dying beast. Uriel stood amid the pile of dead goblins, his armor and sword a bloody, black mess. Chunks of Orcish flesh hung from his shield as well.
Aarseth rose up and swaggered over to Uriel. They clasped forearms in the tradition of the Gladius Honoris, signifying the victory over their enemy.
" Bah! Is this all you have Gorgoroth! Come down from your pedestal so I may butcher you like the dog you are!" Aarseth cursed raising his mighty battle-axe.
" Aye brother, either something is amiss or he is no much for the warriors of Aluric!" Uriel chimed in.
They entered the Tower of Heimduul. Its winding staircase glowed a sickly emerald and smelt of rotting corpses. Long dead bodies hung from chains and faces of tortured souls moaned in agony from the walls itself. Cries of pain and anguish filled the Tower with uncanny loathing and despair. Shadow-beasts slithered up and down the walls hissing their hatred. Uriel could not fathom what demonic brutalities lay in wait above the final staircase.



Aarseth said nothing. His face was like steel and his mood had turned all the more grim. When a goblin, demonette or other vile creature happened upon them, Aarseth killed them without mercy, reveling in the slaughter. A dark fire burned in his eyes, one that Uriel had never seen; and worried about.
They entered the throne room of Gorgoroth in silence. He sat; arms hanging lucid at his sides, the torches gave little light to the chamber, but their enemy’s eyes glowed a red menace. He stirred not. Spirits gathered around him, strange sigils were painted before him in semi circle, and black candles wavered. He was indeed a fearful being to stand against, his pallid skin cloaked by his black and gold armor, his crown shimmering in a perverse manner.
" Gorgoroth!" Aarseth shouted at the top of his lungs." I, Aarseth have come to claim my justice, my revenge! You filth, shall see not the sun rise this day! You took all I loved in this world, now I send you to meet your wretched master Varg….may he rend you from now until the Doom of the Stars!" He boomed, raising his axe in preparation for battle.
A deep hideous laughter began to emanate from where the sorcerer warlord sat. He began to rise, the space around him swirling, barely containing the powers of the Death Realm.
He towered before the men of Aluric. He unsheathed his massive jeweled sword. Electricity and fire ran up and down its blade, the blade screamed as he swung it in deadly arcs. Still he said nothing.
" So, you have nothing to say then fiend? So be it, my brother and I will take your head and leave your carcass to the wolves of Zeohl!" Uriel proclaimed.
Gorgoroth laughed again, the echo deafening the warriors. The Tower of Heimduul began to quake and the torches blew out one by one in rapid succession. Only the black candles at the sorcerers feet still burned. Uriel felt the fear that he felt in the forest take him and could not help but feel paralyzed.
" Vile human pigs!" Gorgoroth screamed. His voice deep,hollow and piercing all at once.
" I am the Keeper of Death! None oppose my doings! I am the Guardian of the Realm of Varg, who is Lord of the Dead Lands, Prince of Hell, son of Belial. I, Gorgoroth, creator of the Circle of Snakes! I spill the blood of anyone I choose, kill as I please! I have destroyed hundreds of kingdoms and obliterated men greater than your feeble Aluric. I shall drink your souls and your blood shall I bathe in at dawn!"
Gorgoroth’s body tremored as his power surged into him.
Aarseth sneered and began the Gladius Honris Prayer of Faith.
Uriel was too frightened to do anything but repeat the words."Strength, honor, might. Aluric gave us will to fight. None shall stand against the Halls of Light!"
With that said, Aarseth’s battle-axe caught fire, the magic within ignited to fight the demon within Gorgoroth. Uriel was still in shock though, he stood immobile as Aarseth charged at Gorgoroth, the true nature of the beast exposed at last as their weapons met in the clamor of battle. Gorgoroth had long black horns that curved inward, almost resembling tusks. His long raven-mane was pulled into a top knot and his crown was made of human skulls and decadent gems.
They fought long and hard. The Tower shaking all the while, Uriel only watching, frozen in horror. Aarseth fought with the hatred of grieving husband-the rage of father at loss. He scrambled back and forth, avoiding the blasphemous blade of Gorgoroth.
He hacked at his nemesis, ripping his flesh but never drawing blood. Frustrated he jumped at him, they both slammed to the stone floor, Aarseth struggling to keep from vomiting from the power surrounding the sorcerer.
Aarseth howled his hatred for him, pummeling his face with his fists, as both of their weapons lay at their feet.
Gorgoroth hissed and flung him across the chamber by his evil will alone. He crashed into the marble walls, his bones crushing in an instant.
Aarseth lay broken and bloody, unable to continue the fight. Gorgoroth stood above him.
" Aeons have passed since a mortal has laid hands on me, centuries since I have enjoyed the thrill of battle. You amused me son of the Ahmirez. Like your whore wife and bitch child though, amusement is all you are. Your death matters not in the cosmic war, just as your life mattered not. Your blood is mine and your souls shall wander the Realm of Death until Varg devours you forever!
The cosmos know my face, the masters of Light fear me and Angels weep when they hear my name!"
Aarseth shed a single tear as Gorgoroth cleaved him in two.
Uriel screamed in horror. The sorcerer warlord turned to him and hissed.
" You, you shall tell of this weakling. Tell the tale of Aarseth and how I reaped his soul! He fought well, you, coward, shall spread my fear for your life is forfeit to me."
Gorgoroth marched toward Uriel cackling in a devilish manner.
Uriel cried too. He cried for his brother, he cried for himself. Knowing he could not destroy Gorgoroth and ashamed at his lack of courage, Uriel raised his sword to the demon in front of him and said;
" Spin your own webs of fear. I came ready to die by the sword and so I shall. May my forefathers forgive me and welcome me into Vaulhaulios and the Halls of Light! That I may fight alongside Aarseth in the Dead Lands, so we may defeat you in death at least!"
He spat on Gorgoroth and Uriel of Ahmirez, warrior of the Halls of Aluric took his own life.



This story written October 18,2006,
In about four hours, inspired by tons of heavy metal music, fantasy and horror comics and books and my twisted imagination.