The Grief of Ziemach

War is brewing, the fates of four great kingdoms teeter on the edge of destruction. Zeitun the majestic mountain fortresses of the Dwarves, Lithae the beautiful forest home of the Elves, Morok the home of the once mighty Horse lords, and Bracocia the home of the Orcs and a terrible, slumbering evil. The fragile peace seems destined to fail, for the past few years Orcs have been raiding the borders of Zietun burning and pillaging.
There is perhaps one who can stave of this mighty evil, in the most unexpected of places. Fjolin a young dwarvish warrior is about to be thrown on a deadly adventure through barren wastelands, towering cities and dangerous plots


21. Epilogue

The Orcs swarmed over the city, ripping down statues of kings and defiling them, tearing down tapestries and hacking the ancient wonders to shreds. The infestation had begun. Strange hidden creatures began to spread a vile liquid which stuck onto everything it touched, killing all beauty that it found there. The water supplies turned black and stagnant, the beautifully carved surfaces were smothered by a flat rippling blanket of this odd substance.

The Orcs were destroying everything. Beds, wardrobes, tables and chairs to make their nests within the ancient city, they burnt and pillaged everywhere. Libraries and study rooms went up in smoke. The beautiful terraced gardens on the inside of the mountain were torn down and replaced by blackened land and scorched earth. Further down still the Orcs went seeking out those who had tried to stay. Orcs love to pillage, it was not long therefore until they started fighting among themselves over loot and the hoarded gold of the dwarves.

Goblins took up residence in the lower levels of the city and began to mine and break doors scavenging weapons and armour where they could find them. The filthy creatures were not worth any concern and they died in their hundreds even without new enemies as they tinkered with the massive furnaces deep within the city and the hoard’s explosive powder. The wizard sensed it all and was well pleased with what he saw and felt. He ordered the reserves to go in and ensure that there were no survivors. They were brutal and effective killing any wounded that had been left behind in other places on the battle field and tossing their heads down the walls to land by the gate. A warning to those who might dare trespass and a reminder of the new found power of the Orcs.

Into the city walked the dragon and by it’s side his master the wizard also walked, leaning on his staff tiredly. Snapping a few orders at the bowman the human resistance had sent he hopped onto the dragons back and the dragon rushed towards the central chamber, its tail knocking aside all in his path until he found the ash demon stood proudly by the wall, feeding on the inferno and growing more powerful with every passing minute. The wizard smiled at it as it drained the fire from the chamber, allowing more and more Orcs to stream inside, once it was done the dragon too slowly entered the chamber, its feet crunching on the freshly charred bone of the dead dwarves.

The wizard laughed happily as he trampled them, screaming his joy to the roof. His hands crackled with lightning as he laughed. Lightning that arced up and about the room, dancing across the stone beams and bouncing of the pillars around him slowly creating some sort of lightning field. Taking a deep breath, the wizard flicked his hands, sending a pillar of lighting up that shattered its way through the ceiling and as the rubble fell the dragon threw back its head and roared. As the wizard still laughed, they had won.


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