The Rise Of Gralnak, The Great Worm


In the depths of Hades, there has been demons since before time began. Many of them are now known to the people of Elysium, but most are unknown, hideous creatures who are worse than any mortal nightmare could predict. Some of these demons will never be known, and most should stay in the state of perpetual dark of Hades, lest they destroy the world itself, but some are known to Elysium, and some have even gained a hold in the mortal planes...
One of the demons unheard of in the mortal plane in times gone by was a worm demon by the name of Gralnak. His bloated worm body was host to thin, spindly legs and arms, and a foul face with black, lustreless eyes that seemed dead and vacant. Amongst the demons he was small, a mere servant of the greater demon lords. In the many battles that raged in Hades, he was often on the side of the loser, and his body was destroyed many times by his hellish adversaries, only to be reformed over a number of years. It was after such a battle, where his body had been torn asunder by a gigantic clawed demon beast, when his soul was wandering around Hades, contemplating his defeat, that he found a strange gateway. It shimmered with unholy light, and as he peered through it, he saw a small figure, head bowed in a mockery of prayer, form draped in black robes, in a darkened room.
Gralnak was intrigued by this strange discovery, and moved closer to the strange gateway, to get a closer look at the odd figure within. He had never seen a mortal before, having been confined to the dark corners of Hades, and he did not understand the strange ritual being performed before him. Suddenly, as he drew even closer to the gateway, it flared with a burst of silvery light, and his spirit was pulled towards it with an inexorable force, ripped apart by the power of the gateway. When he reformed before the strange figure, his body had been reassembled, and he stood full and erect before the creature, who lifted his bowed head slightly, and smiled at the sight of Gralnak.
"Foul demon, I summon you here today to do my bidding..."
Gralnak snarled in anger and stepped forward, bulbous body swaying from side to side, but as he approached the figure, pain darted into his mind, freezing him to the spot as his nerves were set ablaze. He uttered an unearthly scream, and fell down onto his worm body, his legs momentarily forgotten. The creature standing before him was now only a blur on his vision, but Gralnak continued to push forward. As his thin, clawed fingers moved towards the figure, he heard a frantic chant in the air, and there was a blaze of silver light... Gralnak was back in Hades. But now he had found the mortal plane, and he knew that this was where he could gain power over his fellow demons...
When the orcish race was still young, there was a small village, populated by orcs and goblins, named Valgrannar. It was set at the back of a large plain, nesting under a range of mountains that spread out from the village around the plain like a horseshoe. This village was led by Nishgar, a shaman who dabbled in the arts of demonology.
One day, in the thick of winter, the orcs had deserted their small, dirty huts, and moved into the cavernous tunnels below the mountains, moving deeper in to escape the freezing bite of the winds. Nishgar and his brother, Darlgat, were exploring the further depths of the tunnels, anxious to find a supply of food for their starving villagers, when they came across a cavern which was littered with corpses. They entered this strange room warily, for they had heard roars in the darkness of the caves over the last few nights, but soon hunger drove them to run to the foul, rotting corpses, many of them orcish, and satiate their hunger by eating the vile flesh. Soon after they started to chew on the bones of a wolf, there was a mighty roar behind them, and they turned back to see an enormous wyvern standing in the tunnel leading to the cave, blocking the only exit. They both drew their swords, expecting a bloody fight, and advanced on the beast.
Darlgat ran at it first, wildly swinging his blade, but the wyvern's mighty wing batted him away, throwing his body across the room, where it hit the wall with a sickening thud. He died instantly. Seeing this, fear rose in Nishgar's throat, and he began to step backwards, trembling blade still held out before him. The wyvern squawked and started to advance across the cavern towards him, but then suddenly stopped, and tilted its lizardine head. There was a rumbling coming from the rock above the cavern, and both Nishgar and the wyvern looked up, as a giant worm crashed through the rock, falling in a writhing heap towards the wyvern. Its thick body smashed down on the wyvern's skull, crushing it, before the worm slid off the lizard's body and burrowed away into the rock below. Nishgar ran over to the hole, glancing at the corpse of the wyvern to check it wasn't moving, and then peering down the hole, trying to catch another glimpse of the giant worm. As the rumbling subsided, he ran from the cavern, back towards the encampment of villagers, who returned later that day to drag away the corpse of the wyvern, which they cooked over a huge fire, and ate the half raw, half charred flesh.
A few days later, as Nishgar sat alone in a small cavern he had claimed as his own room, the thought of the giant worm preoccupied his mind. He could not stop thinking about how it had saved him from certain death, and how its acts had provided food for his people. As these thoughts raced through his mind, a vision came to him, of a huge, bloated worm, even bigger than the one he had encountered in the cave, with the face of an orc. The deep black eyes of this creature seemed to stare through him as it spoke. "Nishgar, my servant, the giant worm, saved you and your tribe. You owe me your life." And with that, the vision faded.
The next day, Nishgar ordered his people to erect a huge statue of a worm in the cavern of the wyvern, and then ordered them to leave him with it. For a month, he sat before the statue, eating nothing and without sleep, until the vision came to him again. Eyes and a mouth seemed to form on the statue, and legs and arms sprouted from its sides like flailing sticks. The statue seemed to raise itself up over him, and looked down at him with a parody of a smile. "I am Gralnak, the Demon Worm. I have watched this land for many years, waiting for a loyal servant who could open the gateway for me. I believe you are this servant. Make offerings to me Nishgar... Worship and adore me. You and your people. Spread the word of my arrival, for those who will serve me, will benefit greatly." And the vision faded once more, the statue returning to its inanimate form.
Nisgar went back to his people, and told them of the visitation, and the glorious rewards he felt sure they would receive from Gralnak. Soon the whole village began to worship Gralnak - they made offerings to him, both animal and orc, and many a mother weeped as their baby was offered up to the worm lord. When the winter passed, Nishgar sent out messengers to the other orc, goblin and cyclops villages. After a few years, most of the peoples of these races had begun to worship Gralnak, and he began to grow strong in the lands of Hades. He rose through the ranks of the demons, and eventually found himself to be a demon lord, one of the greater demons, the most powerful of their number. He was now known as Gralnak, the Great Worm.
After almost a century of worship, Nishgar died at an unnatural age. His reward from Gralnak had been a life of such length unknown of by the orcs before then, but as he grew older, his body had become more and more tired, and he had begged Gralnak to take the worn life from it. Gralnak did this, and took the soul of Nishgar in to Hades, where Nishgar was brought to him. From that day forth, the soul of Nishgar would serve Gralnak forever.
Many more years passed, and the orcs grew stronger in the lands, as Elysium entered a period of doubt and ignorance, when all but the oldest and wisest forgot about the gods, who had become disinterested in the petty squabbles of mortals. The orcs power was not the greatest, but their will was, and soon, as Gralnak decided he wanted more than Hades, the orcs, goblins, and cyclops' all gathered in the plain outside Valgrannar, capturing the high priests of the gods and holding them hostage. The combined might of their belief, and the mass of sacrifices they made to him, was sufficient to summon Gralnak to Elysium in a mighty form.
He towered over his worshippers, and smiled down on them, his body glistening in the light of sunset. But as he cast his eyes about the lands of Elysium, planning his domination, a massed army of the other races of the world advanced on Valgrannar. They had seen the orcs rise in power, and had heard rumours about a demonic lord, come to slay all who stood in his way. Intent on banishing this creature, the races had united against the orc and their brethren.
As they approached the mountains surrounding the plains, they saw the colossal figure of Gralknak, towering over them, his laugh echoing across the mountains, setting fear into their hearts. The armies nearly routed as they drew closer, but their leaders pushed them forward, towards the pass that led into the plain. As they entered the pass, these massed armies charged forward towards Gralnak's hoard, who poured forward in a counter attack. Soon bodies were strewn all over, and Gralnak saw that his army, smaller that the combined armies of the races who had not succumbed to his power, would not succeed. In order to reverse this, Gralnak swept a clawed hand across the sky, opening a gateway to the demonic lands. Through this gateway, led by the spirit of Nishgar, came a wave of dark and twisted demons. Many were bitter about their enslavement by demonologists in the past, and they set upon them with as much vigour and vehemence as they did upon the other races, but under the eyes of Gralnak, they dared not strike against his followers.
Creatures of nightmare cut through the ranks of humans, elves, and other beasts - A hamakei demonologist was cut down by a many spined creature as he tried to draw it under his control. Soon the two forces were equally balanced, and bodies were falling even faster than before. Dark power crackled in the air as the demons pushed on, and bolts of lightning leapt from Gralnak's hands, spreading bodies wide across the battlefield. As the orc army gained the stronger hand, they pushed forward harder, and the armies of the other races started to rout and collapse in disorder. A shadow fell across the land, and the orcs grew even more vicious as they smelt impending success.
Eventually, Zharadan, the God of Judgement, glanced down upon Elysium, and saw the carnage being wrought by Gralnak and his army. Zharadan stepped down from the lands of the gods to the battlefield, and looked over the damage already caused. With a sweep of his hand, the demons were banished back to Hades, leaving the orcs to fight alone. Gralnak was the last of the demons to go, and his scream echoed across the land, heard in distant farms and villagers, where mothers hugged their children close for safety, as he has drawn back into his home land.
Angered by the loss of their leader, the orcs pressed on, and the other races fell like stalks of corn as they gaped in awe at the god who now stood over them. By now, most of the other races fighters and warriors lay dead in the plains, and the orcs showed no signs of tiring. As they mercilessly slew the fleeing soldiers, Zharadan looked into the future. He saw burning fields and villages, and corpses littering the lands all about, whilst orcs and goblins danced dark rituals to their false god. He realised then that no other races would survive the after effects of this battle - All the warriors of those races lay dead on the earth, and it would be a long time before they recovered - long enough for the orcs to rampage through the lands, laying waste to all life.
Zharadan knew that there was only one way to stop Elysium travelling the path he had foreseen, and he sighed as he sweep his hand across the sky once more. A glowing rift appeared in the heavens, and the giant form of Gralnak stepped through it, snarling with anger. Even if Gralnak was banished for eternity, or destroyed entirely, his memory would live on in the orcs, and they would not cease their violent crusade. Zharadan did the only thing that would halt the destruction; he gave the ultimate gift to Gralnak - A place amongst the gods, on the condition that Gralnak would call back his army.
Gralnak eagerly accepted Zharadan's offer, and with a word, the orcs retreated from the fleeing armies. A grotesque smile spread across Gralnak's face as he watched fleeing humans and dwarves. Many on both sides had died, and it would take all the races many years before they would fully recover, but the orcs cheered, despite their many casualties - they had succeeded. Zharadan departed, to tell the other gods what had happened, but Gralnak stayed for a while. He watched a single elf lying in the centre of the battlefield, his right arm and leg a pair of bloody stumps. The elf's voice cried out, unheard by any but Gralnak over the clamour of the orcish cheering, and Gralnak began to laugh, a deep rumbling laugh. He had forced his way into the ranks of the gods, and this world would never be the same again. As his mighty form faded from the eyes of mortal men, the soil of the plain turned red, the deep red of the blood that had spilt on it that day, and would continue to be spilt for years to come.

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