Discord
Changelog
07-06-2011, 12:38 AM
*Artistic liberties taken....and mounted*
The Bezantur market buzzed with activity. Vortar watched the humans scuttle from one vendors shanty to the next as the purveyors of goods extolled the virtues of their wares with varying degrees of glibness. Turning his gaze down to the pits he watched with some satisfaction as the mine master's horses pulled a chain that bound many slaves together. The thck, black chain tightened and then slowly drug all the slaves shackled to it from the dirt of the pits out onto the hard cobbles of the streets above. Some slaves fought, some wept, some spewed curses in a hundred languages, but all of them had come here by his hand and all would soon toil in the iron mines of Thay. The slave master walked over and handed him a large purse full to bursting with gold talons. "A pleasure doing buisness with you slaver." the human said. Vortar looked down at the much smaller human and Dipped his massive four horned helmet in the barest of nods as he accepted the purse.
The afternoon sun beat down upon the market with the vindictiveness of a spurned pagan god and transformed the cobbles of the market into the coals of an oven that baked all who dared tread within. Heat radiating from the stones cause the very air to retreat, running in rivulets that distorted sight and caused all things to shimmer and sway when viewed. The elf danced through the crowd with unnatural grace, flitting from one hot stone to the next with her feet lifting so quickly that their heat did not have time to even begin their brutal assault upon them. She saw the stall her master had told her to go to in the distance...swaying and rippling like a fever dream. Cluching the small purse she had been given close she hurried towards her tasks end. Graceful dancing steps quickened and then stopped as surely as if all music had ceased to exist. The elf's keen eyes spied the four horns above the crowd and as a fish monger passed from in front of her she saw that her fears were confirmed. The four horns belonged to the helm of a giant figure, his black and red enameled steel armor and massive blade identifying him beyond doubt. Her heart dropped into her stomach, she knew of this one...and his...appetites.
The giant stood in the middle of the square with a stillness that defied the bustle all about him. Commoners gave him a wide berth and his armor radiated a heat that made the the air around him shimmer more violently than elsewhere. He seemed to be drinking in the heat, basking in it like some grotesque reptile sunning itself, which if the stories were true.... Briefly she thought of leaving the market the way she had come rather than pass the giant but the sting of her masters whip was too fresh in her mind and on her back. Narrowing her eyes she pulled her coarse slave wrap up around her head like a shawl to cover her head and hurried towards Sharner of Eltabbar's stall.
Vortar stood in the market staring at the sundial. The sun upon his armor was like a furnace, warming him like a fond memory of some early conquest. Humans flowed around him like a river taking careful pains to avoid him. Occasionally one would brush against the thick plates of his armor, their heat causing them to yelp in pain as soft skin blistered. Vortar would smile in amusement within his helm at this but none said anything to him and so he paid them no mind, content to simply bask in the heat of the sun.
Were it not for the discomfort of having his wings furled beneath his cloak Vortar thought this would be the perfect day; His purse was full, the sun was warm and his blade was still wet with the blood of his enemies. Briefly he contemplated removing his cloak and letting his wings spread into the sunshine but then decided against it. Humans sometimes panicked when he did this and the clamor would break his reverie...as would answering the Tharchion's questions about the panic in the market that had cost the tax collectors hundreds of Talons.
Insidously something crept into the corner of his mind and pulled him out of his sun induced bliss. A particular scent came to him...an infrequent and delicate scent not unlike honey and blood mixed with flowers. Vortar removed his helm and flared his nostils as he deeply inhaled the hot air. His stomach growled and he started to salivate "Elf!" he thought and smiled darkly. Scanning the crowd he spotted it...it's lithe nimble form darting towards Sharner's stall. Eagerly he started towards it, commoners scrambling to get out of his way.
Sharner's stall smelled of oiled steel and leather, the bald human sold many things but armor and weaponry was the bulk of his buisness. Drawing out the small purse she had been given the elf quickly placed her masters order and paid the merchant before he had even gathered them in hopes it would bring haste to her transaction. Hearing an clanking noise behind her she pulled the shawl about her head to the side just the slightest bit with one delicate hand and risked a glance behind her.
"ElF!" a voice like congealed blood poured over thunder boomed. The elf girl leapt in shock as she found herself face to face with the giant dark skinned half-Orc. Screeching she tried to clambor behind the counter in her fright but the shopkeep siezed her and shoved her roughly back across it. A gauntleted hand that could easily have wrapped around her entire head ripped the shawl from her exposing her long golden hair and delicately pointed ears.
Tears of fear welling up in her large, blue ,almond shaped eyes the elf stammered, "Please sir...I am here on my masters buisness." Vortar leaned in close to the elf and took a long deep sniff of her scent from the base of slim, elegant throat to tearstained point of her high cheekbone and smiled rapaciously. "Oh? ..and who is your master little elf?" he asked as he gripped the slave collar and lifted her from her feet to regard it's markings.
Holding her aloft by her collar Vortar examined it...it was new, and black leather. If she was a new slave perhaps her master would not be so attached to her as to quibble much when offered price he thought, or failing that...new slaves were known to run from their masters and often were butchered while trying to escape the city, any slave owner would be pleased indeed if offered coin for useless property.
Kicking her legs as they dangled above the ground the slave cluched at the giant's arm and beat it ineffectually with her tiny fist while she slowly strangled to death. WIth mounting desperation she attempted to say her master's name while also fighting not to vomit from revulsion as she stared at the hideously scarred face of her captor. Jagged scars criss crossed his face in many places but especially over his ruined right eye, the scar's there puckered and raised in overlapping patterns that spoke of repeated injury. His breath smelled like he had been eating rotten mind flayer and old cheese and his one good eye gazed at her with a cold malice and hunger that bordered on primal lust.
With a practiced eye Vortar evaluated the stock, it was firm and supple in a way that spoke of youth and health, it's smell was intoxicating and as he pictured it cooking slowly in his masters oven he could not help but drool. His master would like it too he thought, the Zulkir was so difficult to please and rarely smiled but such a beauty as this was certain to bring him pleasant diversion for at least a short while. Vortar did not mind sharing his prize with his master, it would earn him favor and Aznar Thrul's interest in it would die the moment it's screams did.
Frowning, Vortar listened for the little elf to give it's masters name. Mentally calculating his purses weight versus the masters avarice was difficult without the name of the things owner. Quiet squeeks, gutteral noises and tears were all that escaped from the elfs face however and his impatience built. Sharner of Eltabbar, who had been watching silently until now said, "I think she's tryin te say sumthin lord." Chagrined, Vortar realized the human was probably correct and released his grip on the collar, abruptly dropping the elf to the cobbles of the shop floor.
Clutching her throat the elf stammered, "Ry..Gasp...Rye...gasp...Ryech..cough...Voralt".
Vortar's face darkened and his one good eye widened. "The Protector?" he grunted.
Weakly the elf nodded as she lay upon the ground. Vortar briefly considered snapping the elf's neck and then paying the shopkeep for his silence...but Sharner's price for lying to the protector of Bezantur would be too high. It probably wouldn't be believed anyway..The Protector knew him too well and a hundred commoners would have seen him dangling the elf off the ground. No...saying the elf had run off and he had merely caught it would ring false...and Vortar dared not tempt the Protector's wrath. The Protector was one of the few humans Vortar respected and though Ryech was a mere wolf in comparison to the Tharchion's dragon, by all other standards the human was death in a snappy outfit and was well known for his devotion towards his slaves and wives.
Resigning himself to finding other diversions Vortar glared darkly at the little elf huddling on the ground and drew out his purse. He gave a handful of gold coins to Sharner and uttered, "for the mess." Sharner took the coins and pulled out a towel and water canteen which he tossed to the elf's feet, "clean yourself up girl." He said before reaisng his gaze to the glowering giant above her. "What is it with you and Elves Vortar?" He asked.
A passing drunkard whom Vortar remebered was called Eliavres the druid stopped and helped the elf to her feet and he realized a human priestess of the book god Ohgma had stopped to gawk as well.
Shrugging to Sharner Vortar replied without guile, "Elves...are delicious...I had hoped to buy this one from her master to be baked into a pie." Horrified...and a little too drunk to keep his tongue, the druid muttered something about the children of the forest not being made for pie as he cleaned the fallen slave off.
Vortar's brows knit together and he thundered, "What know you of Elves human? There is good reason for my peoples emnity with them!"
Avrora the book priestess nodded and chimed in, "The Elves creator Corellon larethian and the Orcish god HATE one another..in the time befor the .."
"Wrooonnnnnnnng!" Vortar roared so loudly that all within the market fell silent.
"Sylvaush protect!" the drunken druid exclaimed as he leapt back. Farting loudly, he then fell heavily on his ass beside the elf.
Rounding on the druid Vortar thundered, "To the 7th Orcish Hell of stinging genital vermin with Sylvanus of the Elves and his consort Chauntea the bush bitch!"
Bewildered the druid protested, "Shylvanush is no Elven god...HE ish...he issh a humand deety! Though ah've losht me faith in em ah can tell ye at fer shertain!"
Avrora nodded her intellectual agreement with the inebriate and started to say something when Vortar drew his massive blade and her mouth snapped shut with a clicking of teeth.
Raising the greatsword over his head Vortar began chanting a gutteral prayer in Orcish that had any understood it would have caused them to blanch and choke back bile. At it's conclusion, he reversed the blade and thrust it powerfully into the ground. Steel screeched a tortured scream that seemed never to end as the blade sank deep into the cobblestones. Releasing the blade to wave slowly back and forth the enraged half Orc threw both fists into the air and thundered, "GRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMSH!" Without warning Vortar then dropped to his knees and bashed his right eye upon the pommel of the greatsword causing blood to splatter several feet.
Stunned, the others about him fell silent and looked upon the towering half Orc as he rose to his feet and glared at them all from his one good eye. The scarred ruin of his other poured a river of blood down his face. Vortar addressed them all in a voice that cut through the din of the market as surely as his blade had parted the stones beneath his feet.
"In the beginning, Gruumsh created his people and kept them caged as was his want to poke them with spear and marvel at their ferocity. One day however he let them free to see what they would do. The children of Gruumsh ran free and hunted and slew all that lay before them and the all father smiled.
So pleased was Gruumsh with his spawn that he created little creatures, fast and cunning they were.. with fine smooth skin and keen ears and eyes. He made their flesh taste sweeter than any other beast and set them free in the world that his children might hunt them and be rewarded. The Orcs hunted these new creatures and when they ate their flesh they knew the all father was well pleased with his people. They called these creatures Elv which is an ancient Orcish word for "gift" and danced and rutted and ate many of these Elvs at a great feast in Gruumsh's honor.
So the Orcs lived for many many seasons until THE EVIL ONE came. Corellon Larethian and his minions Syvanus the god of grass and Chauntea the bush bitch. The evil one coveted the strength of Gruumsh and saw the love his people had for him and so he schemed and plotted to steal the little Elvs away from the children of Gruumsh that he might have their love and grow strong as well.
Sylvanus the Evil whipered to the Elvs that he would free them from the Orcs that hunted them if they would worship him. The Elvs protested at first, fearing their creator Gruumsh's wrath but relented and agreed. With their worship the evil one grew stronger and he bade Slylvanus the grass god to make him grass so mighty the little Elvs might hide from the Orcs in it and be safe. Sylvanus and his consort Chautea the bush bitch argued greatly as to what this grass might be like but eventually Sylvanus created a grass so mighty it towered to the heavens and sunk its roots deep into the earth. He called it "Trees" and then Chauntea left in disgust, deciding this was the stupidest thing her husband had ever made and would never work.
The evil one whispered again in the ears of the Elvs and taught them the secrets of these "trees" and how to climb and hide in them, which they did learn well and the people of Gruumsh were confounded.
Mighty Gruumsh lowered his eyes ( he had two back then) to the world and saw his people vexed. He looked for the little Elvs and could not find them until he looked in the trees. He called the little Elvs down to him but they refused and huddled in the mighty branches...all except one tribe that grew so frightened they went down a hollow trunk deep into the earth not to be seen for many many seasons. The Elvs defiance angered Gruumsh and he grew wroth indeed....how could this be? Who had done this thing? Who dared to steal his creatures from his children? Casting his eyes far he saw the evil one and roared his battlecry. Taking his spear he met Corellon in battle and the world shook.
MIghty was the battle between the all father and the evil one, greivous wounds were given both by the other. Corellon put out one of Gruumsh's eyes but in the end it was Gruumsh who was victorious. He stood atop the fallen evil one and roared to the heavens. He could have slayed Corellon easily but deigned an honorable death in battle too good a fate for a trickster and thief like the evil one. Grummsh stripped the fallen god of his armor and took the evil one amongst the trees so the little Elvs could watch him shamed as he forced Corellon's face in the dirt and mounted him as one would a whore. Gruumsh thrust home his greatspear and took the new god of Elvs again and again. So brutal was this mounting that ALL his children and Corellon himself would all look as females for the rest of all time until the end of days.
Sylvanus renounced the Evil One lest his ass get mounted and became a god of the monkey children that would become humans. Chautea the bush bitch followed him.
Gruumsh's Orcs roared their prayers to the all father and bashed their own eyes as a sign of devotion and he was well pleased. He gave to his children axes and taught them their use in cutting down the trees that the Elvs could be hunted once more."
The elf slave who had nearly recovered by now looked up at the half Orc and said meekly..."but this is not the story I know."
Nodding her agreement Avrora the book priestess said, "Yes I read it differently.."
"READ?!" Vortar boomed. "Hah! Know you NOTHING!"
"Such was the shame of the evil one that he spent many moons creating a powerful magic to erase it. Eventually his labors were finished and he gave this new magic to his people. He called it "Writing" and it was a mighty magic that he had worught so that LIES could be made PERMANENT! He whispered the lies you all know from your BOOKS to the first wielder of writing and bade his child give them to all the creatures of the gods as well as this new magic. We the first creatures though remember the truth!"
Clicking her mouth shut Avrora saw fit to not argue with the giant armored half Orc.
"I thought it wash Denier who n'vented writin", Eliavres the drunkard sputtered.
"Human...this all occured while the monkey children that would someday become your race were still huddling in caves drawing pictures on the walls with poop and a stick!"
Disgusted and bloody, Vortar snatched his blade from the cobbles wherein it was embedded, Turned on his heel and strode off with the purposeful stride that could only mean he meant to murder something.
Eliavres sat back ,nodded absently and fell silent but for a long whining fart as he took a deep pull from his bottle.
"Orcs", Avrora muttered.
The Bezantur market buzzed with activity. Vortar watched the humans scuttle from one vendors shanty to the next as the purveyors of goods extolled the virtues of their wares with varying degrees of glibness. Turning his gaze down to the pits he watched with some satisfaction as the mine master's horses pulled a chain that bound many slaves together. The thck, black chain tightened and then slowly drug all the slaves shackled to it from the dirt of the pits out onto the hard cobbles of the streets above. Some slaves fought, some wept, some spewed curses in a hundred languages, but all of them had come here by his hand and all would soon toil in the iron mines of Thay. The slave master walked over and handed him a large purse full to bursting with gold talons. "A pleasure doing buisness with you slaver." the human said. Vortar looked down at the much smaller human and Dipped his massive four horned helmet in the barest of nods as he accepted the purse.
The afternoon sun beat down upon the market with the vindictiveness of a spurned pagan god and transformed the cobbles of the market into the coals of an oven that baked all who dared tread within. Heat radiating from the stones cause the very air to retreat, running in rivulets that distorted sight and caused all things to shimmer and sway when viewed. The elf danced through the crowd with unnatural grace, flitting from one hot stone to the next with her feet lifting so quickly that their heat did not have time to even begin their brutal assault upon them. She saw the stall her master had told her to go to in the distance...swaying and rippling like a fever dream. Cluching the small purse she had been given close she hurried towards her tasks end. Graceful dancing steps quickened and then stopped as surely as if all music had ceased to exist. The elf's keen eyes spied the four horns above the crowd and as a fish monger passed from in front of her she saw that her fears were confirmed. The four horns belonged to the helm of a giant figure, his black and red enameled steel armor and massive blade identifying him beyond doubt. Her heart dropped into her stomach, she knew of this one...and his...appetites.
The giant stood in the middle of the square with a stillness that defied the bustle all about him. Commoners gave him a wide berth and his armor radiated a heat that made the the air around him shimmer more violently than elsewhere. He seemed to be drinking in the heat, basking in it like some grotesque reptile sunning itself, which if the stories were true.... Briefly she thought of leaving the market the way she had come rather than pass the giant but the sting of her masters whip was too fresh in her mind and on her back. Narrowing her eyes she pulled her coarse slave wrap up around her head like a shawl to cover her head and hurried towards Sharner of Eltabbar's stall.
Vortar stood in the market staring at the sundial. The sun upon his armor was like a furnace, warming him like a fond memory of some early conquest. Humans flowed around him like a river taking careful pains to avoid him. Occasionally one would brush against the thick plates of his armor, their heat causing them to yelp in pain as soft skin blistered. Vortar would smile in amusement within his helm at this but none said anything to him and so he paid them no mind, content to simply bask in the heat of the sun.
Were it not for the discomfort of having his wings furled beneath his cloak Vortar thought this would be the perfect day; His purse was full, the sun was warm and his blade was still wet with the blood of his enemies. Briefly he contemplated removing his cloak and letting his wings spread into the sunshine but then decided against it. Humans sometimes panicked when he did this and the clamor would break his reverie...as would answering the Tharchion's questions about the panic in the market that had cost the tax collectors hundreds of Talons.
Insidously something crept into the corner of his mind and pulled him out of his sun induced bliss. A particular scent came to him...an infrequent and delicate scent not unlike honey and blood mixed with flowers. Vortar removed his helm and flared his nostils as he deeply inhaled the hot air. His stomach growled and he started to salivate "Elf!" he thought and smiled darkly. Scanning the crowd he spotted it...it's lithe nimble form darting towards Sharner's stall. Eagerly he started towards it, commoners scrambling to get out of his way.
Sharner's stall smelled of oiled steel and leather, the bald human sold many things but armor and weaponry was the bulk of his buisness. Drawing out the small purse she had been given the elf quickly placed her masters order and paid the merchant before he had even gathered them in hopes it would bring haste to her transaction. Hearing an clanking noise behind her she pulled the shawl about her head to the side just the slightest bit with one delicate hand and risked a glance behind her.
"ElF!" a voice like congealed blood poured over thunder boomed. The elf girl leapt in shock as she found herself face to face with the giant dark skinned half-Orc. Screeching she tried to clambor behind the counter in her fright but the shopkeep siezed her and shoved her roughly back across it. A gauntleted hand that could easily have wrapped around her entire head ripped the shawl from her exposing her long golden hair and delicately pointed ears.
Tears of fear welling up in her large, blue ,almond shaped eyes the elf stammered, "Please sir...I am here on my masters buisness." Vortar leaned in close to the elf and took a long deep sniff of her scent from the base of slim, elegant throat to tearstained point of her high cheekbone and smiled rapaciously. "Oh? ..and who is your master little elf?" he asked as he gripped the slave collar and lifted her from her feet to regard it's markings.
Holding her aloft by her collar Vortar examined it...it was new, and black leather. If she was a new slave perhaps her master would not be so attached to her as to quibble much when offered price he thought, or failing that...new slaves were known to run from their masters and often were butchered while trying to escape the city, any slave owner would be pleased indeed if offered coin for useless property.
Kicking her legs as they dangled above the ground the slave cluched at the giant's arm and beat it ineffectually with her tiny fist while she slowly strangled to death. WIth mounting desperation she attempted to say her master's name while also fighting not to vomit from revulsion as she stared at the hideously scarred face of her captor. Jagged scars criss crossed his face in many places but especially over his ruined right eye, the scar's there puckered and raised in overlapping patterns that spoke of repeated injury. His breath smelled like he had been eating rotten mind flayer and old cheese and his one good eye gazed at her with a cold malice and hunger that bordered on primal lust.
With a practiced eye Vortar evaluated the stock, it was firm and supple in a way that spoke of youth and health, it's smell was intoxicating and as he pictured it cooking slowly in his masters oven he could not help but drool. His master would like it too he thought, the Zulkir was so difficult to please and rarely smiled but such a beauty as this was certain to bring him pleasant diversion for at least a short while. Vortar did not mind sharing his prize with his master, it would earn him favor and Aznar Thrul's interest in it would die the moment it's screams did.
Frowning, Vortar listened for the little elf to give it's masters name. Mentally calculating his purses weight versus the masters avarice was difficult without the name of the things owner. Quiet squeeks, gutteral noises and tears were all that escaped from the elfs face however and his impatience built. Sharner of Eltabbar, who had been watching silently until now said, "I think she's tryin te say sumthin lord." Chagrined, Vortar realized the human was probably correct and released his grip on the collar, abruptly dropping the elf to the cobbles of the shop floor.
Clutching her throat the elf stammered, "Ry..Gasp...Rye...gasp...Ryech..cough...Voralt".
Vortar's face darkened and his one good eye widened. "The Protector?" he grunted.
Weakly the elf nodded as she lay upon the ground. Vortar briefly considered snapping the elf's neck and then paying the shopkeep for his silence...but Sharner's price for lying to the protector of Bezantur would be too high. It probably wouldn't be believed anyway..The Protector knew him too well and a hundred commoners would have seen him dangling the elf off the ground. No...saying the elf had run off and he had merely caught it would ring false...and Vortar dared not tempt the Protector's wrath. The Protector was one of the few humans Vortar respected and though Ryech was a mere wolf in comparison to the Tharchion's dragon, by all other standards the human was death in a snappy outfit and was well known for his devotion towards his slaves and wives.
Resigning himself to finding other diversions Vortar glared darkly at the little elf huddling on the ground and drew out his purse. He gave a handful of gold coins to Sharner and uttered, "for the mess." Sharner took the coins and pulled out a towel and water canteen which he tossed to the elf's feet, "clean yourself up girl." He said before reaisng his gaze to the glowering giant above her. "What is it with you and Elves Vortar?" He asked.
A passing drunkard whom Vortar remebered was called Eliavres the druid stopped and helped the elf to her feet and he realized a human priestess of the book god Ohgma had stopped to gawk as well.
Shrugging to Sharner Vortar replied without guile, "Elves...are delicious...I had hoped to buy this one from her master to be baked into a pie." Horrified...and a little too drunk to keep his tongue, the druid muttered something about the children of the forest not being made for pie as he cleaned the fallen slave off.
Vortar's brows knit together and he thundered, "What know you of Elves human? There is good reason for my peoples emnity with them!"
Avrora the book priestess nodded and chimed in, "The Elves creator Corellon larethian and the Orcish god HATE one another..in the time befor the .."
"Wrooonnnnnnnng!" Vortar roared so loudly that all within the market fell silent.
"Sylvaush protect!" the drunken druid exclaimed as he leapt back. Farting loudly, he then fell heavily on his ass beside the elf.
Rounding on the druid Vortar thundered, "To the 7th Orcish Hell of stinging genital vermin with Sylvanus of the Elves and his consort Chauntea the bush bitch!"
Bewildered the druid protested, "Shylvanush is no Elven god...HE ish...he issh a humand deety! Though ah've losht me faith in em ah can tell ye at fer shertain!"
Avrora nodded her intellectual agreement with the inebriate and started to say something when Vortar drew his massive blade and her mouth snapped shut with a clicking of teeth.
Raising the greatsword over his head Vortar began chanting a gutteral prayer in Orcish that had any understood it would have caused them to blanch and choke back bile. At it's conclusion, he reversed the blade and thrust it powerfully into the ground. Steel screeched a tortured scream that seemed never to end as the blade sank deep into the cobblestones. Releasing the blade to wave slowly back and forth the enraged half Orc threw both fists into the air and thundered, "GRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMSH!" Without warning Vortar then dropped to his knees and bashed his right eye upon the pommel of the greatsword causing blood to splatter several feet.
Stunned, the others about him fell silent and looked upon the towering half Orc as he rose to his feet and glared at them all from his one good eye. The scarred ruin of his other poured a river of blood down his face. Vortar addressed them all in a voice that cut through the din of the market as surely as his blade had parted the stones beneath his feet.
"In the beginning, Gruumsh created his people and kept them caged as was his want to poke them with spear and marvel at their ferocity. One day however he let them free to see what they would do. The children of Gruumsh ran free and hunted and slew all that lay before them and the all father smiled.
So pleased was Gruumsh with his spawn that he created little creatures, fast and cunning they were.. with fine smooth skin and keen ears and eyes. He made their flesh taste sweeter than any other beast and set them free in the world that his children might hunt them and be rewarded. The Orcs hunted these new creatures and when they ate their flesh they knew the all father was well pleased with his people. They called these creatures Elv which is an ancient Orcish word for "gift" and danced and rutted and ate many of these Elvs at a great feast in Gruumsh's honor.
So the Orcs lived for many many seasons until THE EVIL ONE came. Corellon Larethian and his minions Syvanus the god of grass and Chauntea the bush bitch. The evil one coveted the strength of Gruumsh and saw the love his people had for him and so he schemed and plotted to steal the little Elvs away from the children of Gruumsh that he might have their love and grow strong as well.
Sylvanus the Evil whipered to the Elvs that he would free them from the Orcs that hunted them if they would worship him. The Elvs protested at first, fearing their creator Gruumsh's wrath but relented and agreed. With their worship the evil one grew stronger and he bade Slylvanus the grass god to make him grass so mighty the little Elvs might hide from the Orcs in it and be safe. Sylvanus and his consort Chautea the bush bitch argued greatly as to what this grass might be like but eventually Sylvanus created a grass so mighty it towered to the heavens and sunk its roots deep into the earth. He called it "Trees" and then Chauntea left in disgust, deciding this was the stupidest thing her husband had ever made and would never work.
The evil one whispered again in the ears of the Elvs and taught them the secrets of these "trees" and how to climb and hide in them, which they did learn well and the people of Gruumsh were confounded.
Mighty Gruumsh lowered his eyes ( he had two back then) to the world and saw his people vexed. He looked for the little Elvs and could not find them until he looked in the trees. He called the little Elvs down to him but they refused and huddled in the mighty branches...all except one tribe that grew so frightened they went down a hollow trunk deep into the earth not to be seen for many many seasons. The Elvs defiance angered Gruumsh and he grew wroth indeed....how could this be? Who had done this thing? Who dared to steal his creatures from his children? Casting his eyes far he saw the evil one and roared his battlecry. Taking his spear he met Corellon in battle and the world shook.
MIghty was the battle between the all father and the evil one, greivous wounds were given both by the other. Corellon put out one of Gruumsh's eyes but in the end it was Gruumsh who was victorious. He stood atop the fallen evil one and roared to the heavens. He could have slayed Corellon easily but deigned an honorable death in battle too good a fate for a trickster and thief like the evil one. Grummsh stripped the fallen god of his armor and took the evil one amongst the trees so the little Elvs could watch him shamed as he forced Corellon's face in the dirt and mounted him as one would a whore. Gruumsh thrust home his greatspear and took the new god of Elvs again and again. So brutal was this mounting that ALL his children and Corellon himself would all look as females for the rest of all time until the end of days.
Sylvanus renounced the Evil One lest his ass get mounted and became a god of the monkey children that would become humans. Chautea the bush bitch followed him.
Gruumsh's Orcs roared their prayers to the all father and bashed their own eyes as a sign of devotion and he was well pleased. He gave to his children axes and taught them their use in cutting down the trees that the Elvs could be hunted once more."
The elf slave who had nearly recovered by now looked up at the half Orc and said meekly..."but this is not the story I know."
Nodding her agreement Avrora the book priestess said, "Yes I read it differently.."
"READ?!" Vortar boomed. "Hah! Know you NOTHING!"
"Such was the shame of the evil one that he spent many moons creating a powerful magic to erase it. Eventually his labors were finished and he gave this new magic to his people. He called it "Writing" and it was a mighty magic that he had worught so that LIES could be made PERMANENT! He whispered the lies you all know from your BOOKS to the first wielder of writing and bade his child give them to all the creatures of the gods as well as this new magic. We the first creatures though remember the truth!"
Clicking her mouth shut Avrora saw fit to not argue with the giant armored half Orc.
"I thought it wash Denier who n'vented writin", Eliavres the drunkard sputtered.
"Human...this all occured while the monkey children that would someday become your race were still huddling in caves drawing pictures on the walls with poop and a stick!"
Disgusted and bloody, Vortar snatched his blade from the cobbles wherein it was embedded, Turned on his heel and strode off with the purposeful stride that could only mean he meant to murder something.
Eliavres sat back ,nodded absently and fell silent but for a long whining fart as he took a deep pull from his bottle.
"Orcs", Avrora muttered.
