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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