Mother Eirith

Hobgoblin's revenge!

“Squawk, Squawk, Squawk!”
  Oriin jumped up from where he had been sleeping. The bright early morning suns pierced his eyes as he shielded them with his hand. A dozen large white birds were tearing manically at the remains of last night’s meal. He hurriedly dragged himself beyond their reach.
  “Erreul get up or you’ll be eaten for sure!” He shouted bas he whacked his friends behind with an unburned branch from the fire.
  Erruel awoke with a scream.
  ”What the hell is wrong with you!” He shouted out. The startled dwarf looked about. Erruel Brindlesfoot was completely disorientated.
He saw the squabbling birds flapping frantically before him. The dwarf angrily picked up a log, and threw contemptuously it at the milling bunch. Within seconds, the agile birds took to the air and circled agitatedly once again above them. Erruel collapsed back into his precious comfortable position in the tall dry grass.
  “Erruel Brindlesfoot don’t you dare go back to sleep. They have all gone and left us. We could have been pecked alive!”
  “Yea pecked alive. I am hungry.” Came the sleepy response from the lazy dwarf.
  Oriin cursed him as he looked about. In the distance, he could see the giants standing on a little hillock and with them the shapes of Podder and his hound.
  Orrin ran excitedly behind a bush and relieved himself with a contented sigh. Then he headed towards the others to find out what they were up to.
  The long grass came up past Oriin’s shoulders making it difficult for him to see where he was going. Several times, he fell and cursed his luck. Picking himself up his embarrassment threatened to get the best of him. Luckily, no one appeared to have seen him fall so he continued determined not to look foolish in front of the others. He would leave that to Erruel.
  “He you guys wait for me.” He shouted.
  All three companions turned around in time to see the little man disappear into a small ditch at the base of the hill. A wet marshy splash and a scream of rage was all that marked Oriin’s position.
  Thrashing about up to his waist in mud, Oriin struggled in vain, as the thick pungent mud sucked him further into its clutches. A huge pair of hands hovered briefly above his baldhead. The helping hands belonged to Kais. The giant reached out and seized him by the collar. With a gentle tug, he pulled Oriin free of the gulping mud. A loud long squelching sound exuded as the dwarf exited the little quagmire minus one of his boots.
  The three onlookers collapsed in a fit of laughter as Erruel exited the tall grass to see his half drowned friend covered from head to foot in thick black mud.
  He cannot help himself from smiling but the dejected look on his friends face cut him short.
  “Erruel I‘m going home. I’m not cut out for this adventuring like you. I’m fed up, look I’ve lost a boot, and my pants are full of mud I’m done for.”
  Jail walked up to the pitiful looking dwarf. He then knelt down and patted him on the back.
  ”Oriin don’t you worry my little one we are friends now and friends look out for one another. Do not worry about the mud for we have a big surprise waiting for you. As for your boot, I am sure Kais will retrieve it. He has only done half the job of rescuing you. Isn’t that right brother?”
  Kais looked over to Jail. A look of horror commandeered the younger giant’s face. Upon seeing the pitiful expression on Oriins tear streaked face, Kais relented to Jails unspoken request. The giant grunted almost silently as he dropped to his stomach beside the spot where the dwarf had previously fallen in.
  He slid one huge hand into the foul smelling mud to feel about for the dwarf’s missing boot. After several attempts to locate it nearly gave up. To his obvious discomfort, he pushed his arm down further till the oozing sucking mess reached his shoulder. A look of triumph broke out on his face as he slowly dragged the boot clear of the mire and held it up triumphantly before him.
  Jail picked Oriin up by the shoulders and held the little man him out before him at arms length.
  ”Let us go and introduce you gentlemen to the sea.”
  The group made their way down the far side of the small hillock. In the distance, a vast expanse of blue stretched into the horizon as wafts of warm salty air blew about their faces. Thousands of tiny white shapes floated high above the cliffs to their right and left. The sound of their calls was all that could be heard such was the din created by these excitable birds.
  Before them small sandy mounds dotted about the seascape as the grass beneath their feet got progressively tougher and sparser. Eventually the ground changed from firm loam to loose sands as they climbed the first of the grassy dunes.
  When they reached the top, the giants stopped to admire the sight that lay magnificently beyond. Miles and miles of snow-white sands covered the places where the unfamiliar would probably picture soil and grass. As far as the eye could see the bluest water, the little folk had ever seen crashes with a deafening roar upon the white ground. Foam sprayed in great clouds as seagulls swooped down to gather any little morsels offered by the deep blue waters of Eirith.
  Jail turned his head as the wind ruffled his shaggy hair.
  ”Gentlemen may I present to you the sea.” He turned to face the vast angry expanse of water and shouted out jubilantly.
  ”Sea! I want you to say hello to my new friends.”
With this, he dropped Oriin rudely to the ground where the dwarf landed comfortably up to his ankles in soft white sand. The little man was pleasantly surprised.
  The giant ran like a great cat towards the water’s welcoming embrace screaming out loud, as he did so. Tearing off bits of clothing till nothing remained the naked giant crashed against the pounding waves making a huge splash of his own. Kais soon followed suit. His excitement got the better of him too as the younger giant screamed wildly upon entering the water. Most but not all of his clothing lay on the beach before the others such was his momentum for he ran even faster than his brother had.
  The dwarfs just stared in mute surprise. All three were unsure what to do. Soldier sprinted forward with a doggy madness to stop within inches of the surf. The hunting dog engaged the unknown by snapping and biting at the churning spume. All seemed in the grip of insanity as the spellbound onlookers reanimated.
Shoulders were shrugged in an effort to drop their belongings and dash forward as fast as their stumpy legs could carry them. Wild screams sent gulls whirling in every direction as the newcomers raced to hug the unknown.
  A wall of foamy surf submerged the short men as they were plucked from their feet to be rudely thrown back into the breakwater that was only inches deep. The icy cold water invigorated travel worn bodies as Trilling Brooks men exploded into exhilarated laughter. It took an enormous effort to struggle out of their soaking heavy garments.  Even Podder appeared to be laughing so great was his joy. He made muffled noises loud enough for the companions to hear which they did as a moment of eternal bonding passed.
  This memory was to form the keystone upon which all of their lives would depend on in the future. Unbreakable bonds would be all that was left when all else failed in their futures. For now madness, a joy full madness gripped them all as the sea rushed angrily forward to engulf the strangers in its tireless grip. This raging entity screamed out in response to Jails greeting.
“I am the sea pleased to meet you!”



  For a little over one hour, they frolicked in the waves whilst washing their filthy clothing. Podder even retrieved Oriins boot to make sure it was cleaned as well.
  Afterwards exhausted but satisfied bodies lay naked on the by now warm sand. A mound of clothing was left to dry under the watchful eyes of Eiriths twin suns. Everyone by now was happily spent too tired in fact to say anything.
  Jail finally turned his head to the others lying beside him and said.
  ”We are nearly there. The old one is to be found around that furthest headland.” He said pointing to a jutting piece of land that perched above some huge cliffs in the distance before them.
  The stiff warmed breeze soon dried them and their wet clothes, as a monstrous black shape passed far above them. The shadow glided in the direction that the giant had just indicated.
  “It seems Shauul returns home for the gathering too. It is time to be on our way. The first part of our journey is nearly complete my friends.”
  Oriin felt a pang of regret creep over him as their guide’s words sank in. For his time among the brothers had been a happy one, save for the incident with the muddy quagmire. The thought of it ending so soon brought a tightness to his throat that for now he could not give reason too, even to him.
  The giants’s again took the lead in dressing themselves to be followed shortly by the rest. Podder retrieved his backpack. His weapons that had been neatly stacked close by he gathered last of all. Soon they departed for the headland waiting alluringly in the distance.
  The rest of the morning was spent in silence as the travellers walked barefoot in the sand. It was a curious sensation as the white powder sucked constantly at their toes. It seemed that for every step they took one was lost with the effort of staying upright in the deep shifting substrate.
  Slowly the headland drew nearer and the cliffs loomed at long last before them. Gulls floated on the updrafts caused by the warm wind as it crashed against the huge cliffs from its lonely journey off shore. Sand changed to shale as the travellers scampered among loose rocks scattered about the foot of the cliffs.
  The going here was difficult for wet rocks proved slippery to their exposed feet. Erruel called a halt as the dwarfs quickly put their boots back on. This helped a little but at this stage, sand had managed to climb into all sorts of uncomfortable places. It ground between toes and heels as they climbed among the large boulders at the tip of the headland.
  Waves crashed violently against the mass of rocks sending spray shooting high into the air. Great spouts of salty water rushed to meet the heavens with tremendous roars as if the gods of the sea and land engaged in a battle to the death.
  At last, the travellers cleared the furthest tip of the invading land having been soaked by the sea for the second time. They rounded the headland with a gleeful outburst to leave the battering waves behind them.
  Nothing had them prepared for the vision that awaited them.
  Towering one hundred feet above was the daunting monolithic shape of the Old One. Its shadow reached far beyond as it shaded the approaching group. The air felt a lot cooler here for the rays of both suns were blocked by the Old One’s presence.
  Screaming gulls nested on its forehead. An old tree long since dead added the appearance of hair on the petrified shape. To the dwarfs it looked like a giant gnarled old man as it stood waste deep in the roiling seas that surrounded it. To their left they followed its intended path with unbelieving eyes far out to sea. A great mist obscured a barely visible island. The only thing that was clear enough to make out were twin peaks that reached through the clouds. The sight of Dragons Isle brought them to a halt as Erruel exclaimed loudly.
  ”Wow would you look at that!”
  “Follow me we must make camp and wait for the others,” Jail interrupted as he led them up the beech towards the shelter of the many dunes that surrounded this all but forgotten behemoth.

Hobgoblins revenge!

  King Virag silently left the gathering of hobgoblins. The mobs hunger had been satisfied by the king’s benevolent sacrifice. His followers slumbered peacefully scattered about their makeshift encampment.
  Virag crawled under a dense leather leaf and contentedly curled up beneath its foliage. Unlike his brethren, their leader slept fitfully. The memories of the night’s unexpected events swarmed about like angry bees inside his conniving brain.
  Delusions of grandeur fought to dominate the chaos that swamped his dream world. In it, the king lived many glorious futures, his alter ego promised a great deal more.
  The deluded king often had dreams of this nature. Dreams inspired him to draw together the roving hobgoblins in the first instance. Since creating the abomination Virago, his following had multiplied unchecked for countless generations. The fruitful were favoured, the old and barren were not so fortunate. Today they numbered many thousands strong for they eagerly multiplied by the day.
  Their stronghold consisted of a sprawling collection of crude dwellings covering huge tracts of Mount Veegore’s Barren soils.
  The kings own residence was far from crude. He still resided in the original section of the settlement created by the Mother stone’s magic hundreds of years before. Gathering followers had been his only purpose to date. With the help of Virago all dutifully obeyed the king and served him faithfully without question. The hobgoblin horde had truly become a nation of numbers.

  The hobgoblin force had joined Virag and his pet father on their quest to find a way to salvage what was left of the Mother stone’s magic. Time was running out quickly for the ambitious little king. Soon the power he had squandered meaninglessly for hundreds of years would fail altogether and his precious empire would fall asunder in the absence of its binding influence. His faithful followers would surely revert to the nomadic scavenging scum they had been cursed to be.
  The expeditionary pack had searched for weeks and had found little or nothing of significance to aid or even justify their efforts. Virag often felt powerless as the probing chilling fingers of despair invaded his blackened soul with increasing regularity.
  The chance happening upon Aldoran the wizard had been a lifeline thrown to the king. Murder had led to blood fest and the blood in itself had proved to be the key to solving his predicament. The chance meeting with the old man had blissfully turned the mangy goblins fortune on its head for the better.
  Though Virago had been sacrificed in the fortunate conflict, the answer to the stone’s rejuvenation had thankfully been uncovered. Destiny now favoured the brave hobgoblin king, as he blissfully dreamed his sweet dreams. Virag’s time had finally arrived.
  Unknown to him the germ lurked amongst his thoughts shaping and moulding them to it’s own designs. This tiny shred of darkness secretly infected the vulnerable hobgoblin king. Like a cancer, it spread its vileness throughout his puny body. The diminutive king was unaware of his transformation for the dark one’s practised touch was subtle indeed.
  Virag’s fertile mind became a hive of brilliant activity whilst he slept. His already grossly overly inflated ego grew proportionally to accommodate those changes. The king’s renovation from Virag to the darkest one went unnoticed particularly by the dying deranged hobgoblin fool. The by-products of this mental metamorphosis washed over Virag like an opiate as it the germ triumphantly removed its victim slowly from its reality. Virag was being consumed by the very dreams that drove him onwards in his quest for everything.
  As the dawn drew even closer, the bones of a plan came to fruition spontaneously. Virag laughed gleefully to himself whilst still enmeshed in his dream world. No time to waste was the last coherent thought he repeated unwittingly. Feline eyes opened with a start to be followed closely by a toothy evil grin. Virag now knew what to do.
  First things first he must restore the stone to its original state and then find a suitable replacement for Virago.
  Every time Virago entered his thoughts, an unfamiliar name clouded his mind. Although he had never heard it before it waited patiently on the tip of his tongue. As king and killer, the hobgoblin had learned to trust his instincts. This elusive name must fit the puzzle somehow. Virag promised himself that he would give it some thought in the days yet to come.
  Right now, he needed blood and judging by the size of the stone in his leather pouch, he would need an ocean of it to accomplish his goal.
  He rose silently in the predawn light to stalk like a thief amongst his camp. All about the clearing thick silver fog shrouded the forest reducing visibility to near nothing. Hobgoblins began to stir where they slept.
  Time was running out for both Virag and more importantly his followers. The remorseless king reached for the Mother stone and devotedly unleashed its deadly influence on the silent sleepers. 
  The magic’s effect was immediate. Restless bodies were sent deeper into fatal slumber. Virag the betrayer had much to do.
  He did not have to puzzle or think too hard for the plan was quite ingenious and simple in its design. Oddly enough, it had come to mind the minute he had awoken earlier escaping the grip of his sleep-induced delusions.
  All about the hobgoblin camp, the maimed and the injured lay helplessly entranced. Virag counted twenty that could be sacrificed without question asked.
  The first victim huddled pathetically before his king lost in its dream state. A look of agony stole prominence on the sleeper’s bestial face. Yesterday’s dawn would be the last this unlucky creature would ever see.
  Virag moved silently closer and knelt beside the mutilated living thing. Its pain fuelled grimace a parody to the vile kings widening grin. The wounded hobgoblin lying before him had lost an arm in last night’s confrontation. A ghastly gash had utterly ruined its face. Survival for this pathetic mongrel was an impossibility even without the unsolicited attentions of the hobgoblin monarch.
  Dried blood and gore clumped the victim’s fur saving it from losing more of its precious juices. King Virag’s subject was a matted but living mess. Virag could sense the taint of infection waiting to gain purchase on this living cadaver the time for action had come.
  He removed the tiny stone carefully from the leather pouch and with his sharpest claw; he ripped congealed flesh from the stump of the hobgoblin’s missing arm. Blood from recently severed veins flowed freely once again.
Virag licked his lips and spittle oozed in sticky driblets from the corners of his gaping grin. Eagerly but slowly, Virag placed the stone directly into the flow with an outstretched and shaking hand. The King’s anticipation fired his own blood like nothing he had ever experienced before. A hot lustful feeling wormed its way through his scrawny body bridging pathways that had been starved of affection since the time of his birth.
  A sickeningly intense pleasure consumed his tortured soul till it threatened to completely overwhelm its wretched vessel. Virag knelt with his head tilted forward his pathetic body shook uncontrollably. The stones magic tasted precious life as its depleting vitality rushed forth to greet it. A dark magic hungered as its wielder screamed with pure ecstasy.
  Life-giving blood, precious red droplets of power fled rapidly from its former host. The pea-sized stone greedily absorbed the life force so vital to the living.
  Imperceptibly the stone pulsated erratically. Moments passed before it stabilized to glow warmly in Virag’s hand. His faithful subject had not even struggled as it shrank to a dried husk beneath him. In his excitement, Virag laughed depravedly and nothing stirred the forest remained silent but for his outburst.
  A thought interrupted the celebrations. This murder might arouse suspicion amongst his faithful. Another thought quickly gained supremacy .Why should he have to explain anything to anybody?
  The Mother stone had grown warm to the touch and became warmer still as he moved from victim to victim. Some he bludgeoned and others he enthusiastically tore the throats from.  Virag’s excitement was building to a painful climax. Blood rushed forward hotly to honour his treacherous efforts. Every droplet expelled was eagerly consumed by the fathomless fevered hunger of the stone.
  A short time later twenty dried husks lay twisted in death defiled by their very own king. Hidden by the silver fog the sleeping made unreliable witnesses. Virag stood upright and breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction. He quickly became perplexed though for the stone had not changed in size as he had hoped it would surely do. The Mother Stone pulsated dully in his murdering claw. Dissapointedly it seemed unchanged much to Virag’s aroused annoyance. Ever so slowly, it pulsed pleadingly almost hidden by the ghostly vapours advances.

  “Not enough.” The hobgoblin king whispered to no one in particular.
  An evil thought sprang to mind unbidden. The king looked about as the silver mist began to dissipate for the dawn was almost upon him. Ever so slowly, the ghostly haze retraced its steps to vanish silently with the sunrises.
  Sixty healthy hobgoblins still lay entranced in their innocence among the dried husks of their comrades. With no witness’s to worry about, Virag excitedly ripped open the throat of the nearest sleeping subject.
  Un tainted effervescent blood splashed clear to infuse the stone with its offerings. This time there was a noticeable difference in the Mother stone’s demeanour. It seemed the more violent the death the more energy transfused the Mother stone. Fresh untainted blood seemed to be favoured above other offerings so far. Virag immediately understood the significance of what had occurred and the connection was duly noted.  The evil King’s eyes widened to their limits. Thoughts of mutilation in the most extreme fashion aroused the wretched assassin.
  Virag picked up a heavy bludgeon one of many lying about the sleeping forms. Savagely he pummelled the skull of another innocent victim, repeatedly smashing the club down on the unprotected bone till nothing but hairy pulp remained. He happily spent the next four hours decimating his own kind till eighty dried husks finally lay abandoned about him.
  Power unlike any he had felt before coursed electrically through his very being. Visions of greatness paraded before his eyes. For the first, time an evil sibilant whisper made it self-known.

  “King Virag, Lord of Eirith. Master of his destiny. From this day forth nations will fall before you. For you now possess the greatest of magics. You have chosen the path of the righteous…this is your destiny and it shall be so. Virag the conquestor you have become a god. The Mother stone waits patiently to serve your every need. No one shall stand in your way for the Mother's blessings will consume them. Nothing is beyond your powers now great one. You now stand on the first step to becoming the greatest of kings…a king amongst kings! Yours shall be the kingdom of pain to rule, for rule you shall, my lord.  I have been sent by the Great Mother herself to guide you for I am her voice. My thoughts are her thoughts and right now she is ever so pleased with your endeavours. Your unselfish sacrifices this night has given me precious life. I wish to serve though I am unworthy. My master I am yours to command.”
  Virag remained absolutely still for he was speechless. This had been first time the Mother stone had ever communicated with him. He had been waiting so long for this very moment to arrive. An elusive purpose in life had finally revealed itself. He had lived for generations thinking his lowly station amongst the hobgoblin filth had some how been a mistake, a jest by the gods. He had always felt different, out of place as if somehow he was meant for greater things. From the instant, he had awoken in the cave surrounded by the spoils of his hungry dreams something had changed within him. Virag had waited for countless years with this belief burning hotly within his soul and sadly, nothing of import had come to pass. He then waited patiently yet again his delusions a determined constant companion never leaving his side.
  The hobgoblin had foolishly squandered the Mother stone’s powers on frivolity. Virag had wandered and wondered but to no avail. Tonight finally, fortune favoured the wicked as Virag screamed with venom at the heavens hidden far above where he stood. Alone amid the ruin of the wretched hobgoblin husks the day of the conquestor had begun.
  With disdain, he surveyed the carnage underfoot. Silent moments crept by. Grief stricken he shouted out in agony.
  “Aldoran how could you do this to us? I will make you pay you murderous wretch. The most glorious of nations will rise seeking retribution against you. Your blood will be the price for desecrating our loved ones. Your time is nigh old man! I will enjoy your suffering most of all but not before I destroy all that you hold sacred. Do you hear me?”
  A soothing calm descended the deluded king in the wake of his wrath. He strode majestically from the clearing with a noble purpose in mind.
  The conquestor broke into a steady run. His destination his stronghold. Much had yet to be accomplished. For one the new Virago must be found and the stones power fully restored to its former glory. Virago his faithful servant must rise from the ashes of annihilation to once again stand by his side.
  He covered the ten leagues separating him from his stronghold with out feeling weakened.
Hobgoblins bowed as he entered his sprawling kingdom.
  It had grown to become a monstrous beast over the centuries. This would change. A king must maintain a defensible fortress from which to rule. He would make many enemies in the days to come. He would be prepared but first he must gather his throng together.
  Virag wished to impart disturbing news. The wizard had mercilessly destroyed their brethren. The bodies must be recovered for all to witness. Hobgoblin dead would be honoured in the Hobgoblin way. Martyrs would shape the building blocks of the greatest empire Eirith had ever spawned. It would-be led by the mightiest of all, king Virag the conquestor!
  Immediately he shouted orders to those seeking to obey. Everyone was to gather before him within the hour. Hobgoblins eager to comply set out at a run spreading the news amongst their fellows. Their king had returned and had summoned them all.
  Virag climbed to the top of a rocky escarpment to view his realm. From this vantage point, he scrutinized the amassing goblin host. An excitement charged the atmosphere.
  The hour passed slowly. Virag the ruler grew impatient as one hundred and seven thousand hobgoblins all of varying shapes and sizes crowded below to languish in his wisdom.
  Virag waited a little longer he enjoyed this dramatic effect. The conquestor finally stepped forward with hands upraised and outstretched. The multitude grew silent and stared with anticipation at their miniature monarch.
  A wide impish smile blossomed on the small monster’s face.
  “My friends and fellow goblin, I have the gravest news for you all.” He cried out passionately.
  The stone grew warm by his side. His voice carried far amongst the gathered.
  “Today a great wrong has been done. Virago, the symbol of our strength and vitality was slain in the cruellest fashion by a sworn enemy. One hundred murdered brothers litter the forest floor to putrefy far from their loved ones. Aldoran the desecrator has inflicted the foulest hurt upon our great nation.”
  The horde murmured nosily as each and every hobgoblin became incensed by the news. As anticipated, the fools had fallen under a spell cast by their evil king. Virag’s hand tightened about the Mother stone as thousands of savage howls broke out. The cacophony became deafening.
Virag cleverly let the madness have its head. He savoured that moment fanning the spark, nurturing the tiniest of flames he waited patiently as he crooned over the seething mass below him.
  “Foul magic has been used this day it’s purpose all too clear. The wizard means to bring us to our knees .He has become jealous of our glorious achievements.”
  The angry hairy sea of mangy fur boiled and rippled in its fury. There was a discerning difference this time. Less erratic in protest now the hobgoblin nation called for unity and blood.
  “I was fortunate to escape with my miserable life for Aldorans dark powers are limitless and terrible to behold. His powers are much greater than your king’s. We struggled, both inflicting terrible pain and at last, I managed to break the spells he cast with lesser magic’s of my own.  Today I feel fear for the first time in my long, long life. Fear that all we have striven for is to come to nothing. I will not let this happen while the blood still flows free in my veins. My people you I cherish above life itself and I will seek to make us strong. We must stand together, from this moment forward and take matters in to our own hands. No longer will we cower on this desolate mountain and fall victim to the wizard. Our destiny awaits us; we will tear down our foes and feast on their hearts. Hobgoblin warriors will purge the land of this impending evil. To do this I must have the support of all who proudly call themselves goblin…. Are you with me brothers and sisters? Will you stand by your servant kings side, as he rushes to your defence, as he embraces our destiny? Are you with meeeee!”
  The host erupted and as one shouted their allegiances to the great cause. In the din of celebration, Virag looked out over the sea fanatical faces for he had done well here today.  The first stage of the master plan was completed. The support of one’s subjects was vital to the success of this venture. The days of blood aplenty approached invitingly.
  The conquestor licked his lips in anticipation. He raised his hands yet again in a valiant bid to mock the gods. Two fiery red shafts of energy shot skyward in a effort to strike at the heavens. Such a display of awesome might brought his minions humbly to their knees.
  A voice in Virag’s mind celebrated his speech and with a sibilant whisper, it said.
“ Your destiny awaits you sire!”