Dark Star Saga

[metawarhammer]

This story is intended to compliment a series of battles between Orcs and Goblins and Dwarfs a friend and I are having this summer, which I will also report on on this forum, some others, and my blog.

Enjoy!

Dark Star - Part 1

Stooping over a boulder with one arm leaning on his man-sized war-club, Warboss Mangut surveyed the wooded valley below him. His posse of particularly large orcs lounged around him, picking idly at their teeth and leering at the gaggle of goblins that stood apart and slightly lower down the slope of the hill on which they were all perched. The orcs grow restless as the sun sank toward the mountain peaks, dimming their concentration as well as the sky. The goblins also fidgeted with discomfort, but their agitation was likely more to do with the increasing restlessness of the orcs, whose leers gradually turned into grins and fiendish sniggers in their direction. Just as one of the orcs made a hostile move toward the goblins––who all leaped to their feet in unison with bobbing heads and squeaks not unlike a flock of frightened birds––a flat horn note rang softly from the valley’s tree line below. All rushed to the hilltop around Mangut and a goblin responded to the signal with an identical horn sound. In seconds, a few goblins riding giant spiders skittered from the trees to the hilltop encampment.

They dismounted and approach Mangut, half gasping for breath. Without salute or formal pause characteristic of the more dignified races, the goblins began speaking simultaneously in excited jitters, gestures, squeaks, and gasps of breath indiscernible even to their kin, who all cocked their heads in amused confusion.

“Shut it!” Barked Mangut, and the three fell silent and still, heads bowed in fear of Mangut’s wrath. “You,” he grunted, pointing to the middle one, “Speak.”

The chosen goblin immediately tried to comply but could only manage a garble of nervous stutters, “Y-y-y-y-y-es, l-l-l-,” and before he could correct his nerves Mangut thumped his head and sent him tumbling back down the slope. “You,” he ordered to the left goblin this time.

The goblin nervously coughed once then launched into a report of their mission. “We searched for an entrance to the Dark Star Clan’s caves in these mountains. It took most of the day, they hide ‘em well ‘cause dem dwarfs is always lookin’ ‘round for ‘em. We found one ‘bout a mile down the valley ‘dat goes into the third mountain peak on da left. We entered and were surrounded by some Dark Stars, all wearing der black cloaks. We told ‘em we were sent by you and wanted ter speak to da boss, but they said that if there really is an orc boss ‘ere he can come ‘isself, the Shaman Nortsik won’t speak to no one else.” Done speaking, the goblin bowed and sidled backwards cautiously in case Mangut interpreted any part of the message as insufficient or insulting and decided to vent his wrath on the messenger.

Instead, Mangut just grunted once and ordered the goblin to lead him to the cave immediately. The orcs fell into step behind Mangut with the rest of the goblins trailing behind.
When they reached the cave a few Dark Star Goblins were waiting for them. Instantly recognizing Mangut as the boss, one stepped forward in challenge and asked, “Wha’ business you got wit’ da Dark Stars, orc?”

Inwardly seething in rage at the bold affront, Mangut calmly stepped forward and leaned over the goblin, causing him to stumble backwards. The goblin hurriedly picked himself up and opened his mouth to shout some insult, but only a squeak escaped as Mangut grabbed him by the throat and chucked him into a tree above the cave entrance. After exchanging a brief glance, the other two goblins beckoned Mangut and his posse to follow them into the cave.

The tunnels were unlit and so narrow the orcs had to crouch almost to waist level to keep walking. Every so often they passed a small opening to a dimly lit room or cavern. The first was barred and seething with the movement and snarls of multi-colored squigs, the foremost climbed over each other at the entrance and gnawed at the bars. In another was a deep, murky pool full of trolls submerged up to their chins. Most of the caverns they passed were small and lined with lime-green mushrooms and various other fungi of a multitude of colors. Occasionally a goblin or two was in one such room, picking the mushrooms or stirring a bubbly, rank stew.

Eventually, the tunnel began to widen until they found themselves in a massive cavern lined with stalagmites and packed full of chattering goblins. The many fires and torches gave the room an eerie glow, and the shadows of the flames and goblins danced up the walls on all sides, disorienting the newcomers.

After a moment, a murmur shimmered through the mob until it fell silent and all the hundreds of eyes pointed in Mangut’s direction. A loud shriek from across the cavern caused the sea of goblins to part down the middle, allowing the orcs passage through. When they reached the opposite end of the cavern, they came face to face with a group of seven goblins sitting together on a curved slab of rock. Each wore dozens of odd trinkets around his necks, wrists, and waists, and the one in the center grasped a long, knobby, mossy staff, which bore a single black star emblem outlined in red. A couple others beside him were sprawled over the rock slab with little regard for comfort or appearances, their tongues dangling out of mad grins, and their eyes half open and glowing green. The middle shaman was the only one who sat completely upright, as well as the only one to meet Mangut’s glare with an equally menacing one of his own. For a few moments the two merely stared at each other, until, suddenly, the head of one of the half-conscience shamans spontaneously exploded in a green blast. The goblin onlookers giggled until the center shaman stood and raised his free hand in command for silence.

[metawarhammer]

Part 1.2

The Red River Valley was in full bloom; red tree blossoms seasoned the forest canopy up and down the valley. Viewed from up high, it resembled a red river running between the mountain peaks. Some called it Blood Valley, but usually only in times of war. From his perch in the Old Tower, as the rangers called it, though the scholars knew it as something else, Jerek Ironlung puffed on his pipe and surveyed the valley. His valley, as he was prone to calling it. He spent most days this way. As an old, veteran ranger, fondly known as a Longbeard amongst his ilk, he was relieved of the tiresome duty of patrol mission. Dwarfs were ill suited for such legged work, and any task requiring long hikes were generally given to the younglings. Jerek and the handful of other Longbeard rangers, who were tasked with leading the watch over the Red Forest, manned the few lookout stations and safe holds that dotted the forest valley. Only when the rangers were marshaled in full force did they abandon their posts.

Over the steady drone of cicadas and birds, Jerek suddenly heard a distinctive buzzing sound approach from the distance. He heard the same sound twice a day. He didn’t need to turn to see the Gyrocopter approaching to know when it would pass, and when he ought to wave his hand to signal his having spotting it; patrol protocol.

As the sun made its descent, Jerek started preparing his dinner; breakfast for his watch partner, Durin, who would relieve him at nightfall. As he was peeling a potato, a flurry of movement in the distance caught his eye. A tree on the fringe of the woods, right at the base of the mountains, shook and a large flock of birds scattered into the sky. Jerek immediately grabbed his telescope and inspected the scene. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, it was still too distant to see much, even through the scope. He kept watching the tree and the surrounding area until the light dimmed too much for him to see anything. Nothing happened.

It could have been a predator making a kill. Birds often took flight from such a disturbance, but even one of the mountain lions could not make a tree shake like that, and the fact that it was right near the mountain was too much of a coincidence. He suspected that he might have just discovered one the hidden Dark Star caves. He decided he would investigate––right after dinner. Sometimes when ranging, one never knew when the next meal would come. When he finished boiling potatoes, chopping vegetables, and butchering the rabbit he had snared the day before, he set it all to stew over the fire.

When the stew reached the proper consistency, he stepped down the stairs that wound up the Old Tower, down to the bottom where Durin lay sprawled out on his back, atop a few animal furs. His arms were tucked into the folds of the long thick white beard, as if it were a blanket. He wore only a thin tunic and slacks. His leathers and armor were neatly piled up beside him, beside his axes which leaned against the wall.

Jerek nudged him awake with his boot. In response, Durin instandly drew a dagger from inside his beard and pressed it against Jerek’s leg. They made eye contact and smiled, and Durin started gathering his things as Jerek made his way back up the tower.

When Durin reached the top of the tower Jerek already had a bowl of stew ready for him, as well as half a loaf of bread and some ale. Durin sleepily mumbled his gratitude, the two clanked their tankards together, and silently dug in. Both kept their eyes on the surrounding canopy as they ate. They couldn’t see much, but the moon illuminated the outline of the trees, which would shake when disturbed, and they had various traps and signals laid out to alert them to anything nearby. Once they made some headway into the meal, Jerek explained what he had seen.

“Coulda been a Brown,” Durin said. Browns were what they called the mountain lions. Grays were the wolves. All the bears were dead or driven away.

“Coulda, but it woulda ‘ad to pounce pretty ‘igh up in tha’ tree to make i’ shake the way i’ did.” Jerek replied. “I’ve seen ‘em go tha’ ‘igh, but seeing as i’ was right by the moun’ain side, no sense in not bein’ certain.”

Durin nodded, “True enough. You got the thingy?” Gunpowder was viewed with disdain by old rangers, their forefathers having ranged the mountains for eons without it. So they didn’t fight with any such weapons. They were not, however, opposed to using them as signals. Should Jerek face mortal peril, he would fire the pistol, and Durin would light the signal fire and prepare to collapse the tower entrance.

“Aye, I got ‘t.” Jerek replied, nodding to a neat pile of small weapons beside him. Mostly small axes for throwing, but a couple daggers were in it as well, as well as the pistol. His main war axe leaned against the battlement, within reach.

Before Jerek departed, they shook hands nodded grimly to each other. A routine scout mission could easily lead to death. The Dark Star goblin clan frequently made forays into the woods, and one never knew when one of the many night terrors of their world might come passing through. After years of ranging, however, Jerek was about as safe as one could be. He kept off the main trails, and made sure all his weapons and armor were carefully shrouded by leather so they emitted no noise and reflected no moonlight. Before leaving he had gauged the position of the tree he spotted by where it lined up under the mountain peaks; just off center between Mount Trundil and the Crooked Peak, the tallest in its grove.

A few hours later he reached the spot. He could’ve made the trek quicker but he opted for caution. There was no question it was the spot, or that something unordinary had happened. Large footprints filled the earth, so big he could make them out clearly in moonlight. Orcs. When he looked up into the tree he saw a crooked form caught in a thicket of branches. He couldn’t make out its face or limbs, but he could tell that it wore a long ragged cloak, distinctive of the Dark Star clan. He watched it wearily for a while, uncertain how to proceed. A cave entrance was no doubt hidden nearby as the Orcs tracks ended as the earth gave way to mountain rock, but there was no point in looking for it because it would take a while in darkness, and it was likely guarded on the inside. Knowing the general location was good enough for now.

After a while the goblin stirred. Groggily at first, obviously in pain and uncertain of his surroundings. Jerek waited patiently. Once the goblin had collected himself, he tried to edge down a branch toward the trunk, so he could make a safe descent. He failed. A few shifts of his weight were all that was needed for the thicket of branches to give way beneath him. He gave a frightened yelp as he fell, but it caught in his throat as he abruptly stopped short, his cloak tangled in the branches. Jerek smiled. The goblin dangled several feet off the ground, a perfect height to be questioned, and threatened.

“Good evening.” Jerek whispered.

The goblin yelped again, and was about to cry out but Jerek grabbed it roughly by the jaw and pointed a dagger at his eyeball. “Shh,” he said, grinning menacingly. The goblin looked only at the dagger. “If you make a sound without me tellin’ yer, you’ll be makin’ all kinds of funny sounds. Understand?” The goblin nodded. “How many Orcs were here? Did they have a leader?”

The goblin nodded enthusiastically. Typical, thought Jerek. He already suspected the goblin was thrown into the tree by one of the orcs, as such nonsense was common amongst the greenskins, and they were always willing to betray each other for such slights. “Tell me”

With the gloved hand removed from his jaw the goblin whispered, “Was a big orc, in armor, dat led um. Called hisself Mangut, I think. Dats what one of ‘is forest goblins said before he came. He was with a small group of orcs, big even for them. They threw me in da tree and went into the caves.”

“What clan was he? Is he leadin’ a host ‘ere?”

“I don’t know, I only saw ‘im. I just guard the cave.”

Jerek believed him, but decided to tie him up and bring him back for more questioning just in case. If trouble was brewing, the goblin might have more helpful information on the latest happenings amongst the Dark Stars. So he unraveled some rope, tied up the goblins hands and mouth, and tethered him to his waist.

Just as they started walking, a loud cry, hundreds of voices strong, erupted from inside mountain.