The handle of the large door to the chief lord’s chamber was wrought of cold black iron. As he wrapped his hand around the width of the handle and pushed the door shut, Rozbag considered it. The door had not always known this handle, for it was clearly orc work; strong, heavy, and effective. At one point the handle would have most likely been some ornately worked thing in gold and silver- a reminder of whatever gaudy folk had lived in Bardhvotar before the orcs claimed it. The door remained, the kingdom remained, but the handle may have been changed or replaced countless times over the long years. Rozbag stared at the handle and puzzled over this for some time after the latch and bolt of the door had clicked shut into place.
“Invaders! Usurpers! Filth in my kingdom!” Gogolmug was wailing exasperatedly at the walls of his chambers, the great folds of fat and muscle quavering as he dashed serving trays and the many helpings of his meal against the wall. “How dare these men and elf-bloods?! For such to enter Bardhvotar is death! This is the current!” Rozbag winced at the chief lord’s words and looked to the faces of the other Eyeless Beetle guards. They winced too or looked in hesitant revulsion at Gogolmug, their eyes flickering between Rozbag and the chief lord. Gogolmug took no notice, instead walking to seize the goblin that held his serving pitcher and cast him head-first into a large pillar opposite his great chair. The goblin squawked and collided with the edge of the stone, collapsing into a mass of spasms and convulsing screams. “I WILL REND THEIR LIMBS FROM THEIR BODIES” cried Gogolmug with clenched fists, “AND CONSUME THEM AS I WOULD THE KIDNEY OFA SOW!!!”
Rozbag did not speak. He stood, and he considered. He did not think as quickly as many other beings, even orcs, and so he had to be more careful when thinking was needed. But Rozbag knew the current more clearly, and he did not muddy its course with the things of want.
Taking his eyes from Gogolmug, Rozbag walked slowly towards the quavering goblin. Fresh black blood now streaked the ground where its head thrashed and shook- the dark pupils of its eyes rolling back in its skull beyond Rozbag’s sight. Kneeling carefully, Rozbag removed the flask from his belt and brought it to his own nose. Inhaling, he took in its full scent. Strong. Effective. Like an orc. He had brewed this particular recipe himself.
“…AND SO TOO WILL I FEAST UPON THEIR EYES AND TONGUES! WHILE THEY YET LIVE I WILL SMACK MY LIPS LOUDLY FOR THEM TO HEAR AS PORTIONS OF THER FACE ARE CONSUMED!!” Gogolmug had snatched up his massive greataxe and was hacking at the walls and furniture. Rozbag listened to the chief lord, but he held the goblin’s head in place and lowered his flask to its shaking lips. He could feel the stares of the Eyeless Beetles watching him now. How many times had they seen him work this same puzzle? No, not this puzzle. This puzzle was something unlike Rozbag and it did not end with healing a goblin.
“What are you doing?” Gogolmug’s voice had lost its fervor as he now looked questioningly towards Rozbag huddled over the goblin servant. “What….why are you doing this?” The chief lord still gripped his axe, but his hold was slack now and the iron head loomed forward like some foolish bird from the mass of his white armor. “I am chief lord of Bardhvotar and that is my servant.” Gogolmug’s voice intensified slightly as he spoke. “If I choose to dash it to pieces against the wall or cut it in half then it dies. I am the chief lord! That it my choice!!” Gogolmug’s voice had nearly reached its earlier intensity.
Rozbag did not answer and he did not look up. Instead he fixed his gaze on the goblin who had stopped its quavering. His own skin became warm as he crouched in silence, too warm, but Rozbag ignored it. He waited, aware that Gogolmug now stared angrily at him. Waited, until the goblin’s eyes opened and looked at him unblinking. Rozbag looked back.
Striding towards him, Gogolmug bellowed, “IT IS THE CURR-“
“Goblins are less than orcs,” said Rozbag in a level voice. Gogolmug stopped. His face was a puddle of confusion and anger. Still looking downward, Rozbag continued, “Man orcs are less than orcs. This is the current.” The goblin still lay sprawled at the foot of the pillar but its feet and hands had begun to work at the air, gathering strength. “Skarabruf is the current,” intoned Rozbag, and with that he finally stood and raised his black eyes towards Gogolmug. “Orcs are less than Skarabruf.”
Gogulmug’s mouth worked back and forth without words. He breathed deeply and his anger melted from his face with uncertainty. “Yes,” he managed. “I know this. We know this together. We brought the orcs of the White Home the way of Skarabruf.” He smiled quickly, baring massive teeth. But you must help me now my orc brother, to take my ven-“
“I am a man orc,” interrupted Skarabruf. “I am less than orc.” He walked now in a slow circle around Gogulmug. At the slightest of nods, four of the Eyeless Beetles took a step from their posts and inched carefully towards the chief lord. “Do you know this?”
Gogolmug did not answer. The lumpy ridge of his brow furrowed and lowered almost over his eyes.
Rozbag returned the flask carefully to his belt and continued speaking. “I have seen Skarabruf. Do you know this? Many who once feared him think of him no longer. They call him the Shapeless Master and they say that it is unwise to speak his name. They say that he once took the form of great fell creatures but that he is gone now. Now…they fear you, Gogulmug.”
Gogolmug craned his head and listened to Rozbag like a startled boar. “They fear me because….they know….that I have your blessing. The blessing of the Shapeless Master.”
“Had they ever beheld Skarabruf they would fear no orc in Bardhvotar. But they did not. You did not either, I think.” Gogolmug looked afraid now at Rozbag’s words. “I think that you saw a power that you did not understand and you stood next to it, until the White Home was under your rule. But I do not think you ever understood.”
The Eyeless Beetles had come now to within a pace of Gogolmug and unsheathed their curved swords. The great orc was bellowing again. “I AM the chosen of the Shapeless Mast…of …of Skarabruf!!”
Rozbag’s arc around the room had led him back to where the goblin now sat up and rubbed at the back of it head.
“I WILL HOLD THIS KINGDOM UNTIL….SKARABRUF RETURNS!”
Offering the goblin his hand, Rozbag lifted it to its feet and studied the gnarled little face. There was caution in those eyes, and a malicious brooding hunger that surveyed Rozbag and the rest of the room. But there was not fear. Rozbag drew a dagger from his belt. Turning the blade over he handed it to the goblin, who hesitated only for a moment before grabbing at it greedily.
“I AM THE….GET BACK, PIG!!!” Gogolmug swung his axe wildly at the head of the guard that approached from his left hand. The blow was one that would have split a troll from neck to belt, but the guard did not flinch as the axe blade was turned aside by the shield of the Eyeless Beetle over Gogolmug’s shoulder. “GET BACK!!!!” He screamed again and raised his axe, but this time two of the guards seized his arms while another stabbed at the pale flesh that hung from under the great orc’s white plated armor. With a shriek of pain, the struggle ended. Gogolmug lay on his back, his axe now safely flung to the pillar nearest the door. “ROZBAG, YOU MUST-“
“I will,” said Rozbag carefully. He stepped over Gogolmug and peered down at him. There was only fear. “I will track down those who dared to come into the White Home. I will find the she-elf that defiled Skarabruf’s shrine, and I will offer her as sacrifice for daring to bring sunlight into this place. But I will need Vardhkalkun to do so.”
He motioned and two of the guards began to unbolt the pale white plate from the massive hulk of Gogolmug’s arms and shoulders. Rozbag could tell that it no longer fit the chief lord. It came away from his flesh with an acrid smell and pieces of corrupted skin. Gogolmug cried out. The guards still held his arms.
The chief lord struggled to speak, “The ruler of the White Home bears that armor…” He sneered and spit at Rozbag. “You are no ruler….you are the dung that falls from the fur of warg pups.”
“Skarabruf is ruler of Bardhvotar,” said Rozbag. He did not look at Gogolmug, but instead at the goblin who stared with hungry vengeful eyes at the palid, flabby flesh of the great orc. “I am nothing,” said Rozbag, and beckoned the goblin with an open palm towards where Gogolmug writhed helplessly on the stone floor.
