[index]
legend predicts that a hero will raise, and evil will be gouged out from the hole it hides in, but today, this evil remains. this is the tale of said evil
mount sparke, the meeting place of all evil.
mount sparke was once a beautiful and life filledarea on udyr island, once populated by many humans, sparke was a happy mountain retreat for the well to do, filled with its wonderful red mountain areas, and its tropical lakes, mount sparke seemed to be paradise.
that was, until the largest volcano in sparke erupted.
houses, towns, people, none of them were spared, not even the plants, or the grass.
the remaining villagers were evactuated from the area, but many were dead.
after the eruption, mount sparke became a volcanic wasteland, the once lush and beautiful grass was burned from its roots, the once soft yet durable soil was burned, turned black and hard, nothing could grow from it, as well as cracked.
the once lovely and clean rivers, the rivers that could be drank from, were now filled with magma, the tropical gaziers that once spread wild spring water accross the land now shot ash.
this land was unliveable for all the most desperate of races.
that race, is the orcs.
-----
it is another normal day in mount sparke, the skys are red and covered by the clouds, and the air is filled with ash.
deep under ground, lies the underground city of the orcs, the only way in is a giant door within a giant mountain.
the streets are littered with disgarded bags, filled with who knows what, the houses are round and cruedly built.
but the main focus is the large, well built, black castle, rgis is where the warcheif is.
inside the castle is a large, round, well lit throne room.
sitting atop a thorne agianst the wall, at the back of the room, he sits, the warchief, he is clad in all black armor, only his head can be seen.
surrounding all sides of the round room, all armored so much that their entire bodies are not visable, only thier eyes, they are holding axes.
the room is dead silent, the gurads stand complete still as the warchief twidles his fingers, looking impatient.
"where is he?" said the cheiften "he should be here by now."
"where is who master darkmoore?" said a gurad.
"the troll emmersary." said darkmoore.
"how do we know when he comes? theres alot of trolls in this city." said another gurad.
"you'll know him when you see him." said darkmoore.
just as darkmoore finished that sentance, a gurad walked up to him.
"sir!" said the gurad "i found this little creature trying to get in."
the gurad held up a small mouse to the chiefs face, the mouse was held up by his tail.
"i know how you like to step on the disgusting little pests, so i brought it to you." said the gurad.
darkmoore grabed the mouse by the tail and sat it down on the ground.
"welcome to the underground kingdom of the orcs boneblade." said darkmoore.
a green mist emerged from the mouse complete covering the entire room.
the green dust faded, and standing there, tall, with long hair and fangs, skulls with three femires sticking out of them for shoulder pads, wearing a grass skirt, boots that don't cover the feet, and are ripped, and yellow arm bracers, it is boneblade, the king of the trolls.
"ugh." said the troll. "what a way to ta' treat royality ey mon'?"
darkmoore humble bowed before boneblade.
"forgive him" said the orc cheif, sounding amused "he is unaware of your shape shifting power boneblade."
darkmoore looked over to the gurad.
"leave us." said darkmoore.
the gurad turned around and wback to his post, next to the door.
"what news do you bring us?" said darkmoore.
"na' tin' good mon'." said boneblade "the goblins were out numbahed, they all be' dead."
"who cares?" said darkmoore "did we get the town magistrate? without a leader the town will fall regardless."
"jes'." said boneblade "but we won't be able ta' take it mon', fraggletooth be dead."
darkmoore's eyes opened wide.
"what?!" said darkmoore "what are you talking about!?"
"so me little hobit came up behind him and stabed him in the back of the throat." said boneblade "wit' tout' em' we ave' no contacts in sne, and the goblin cittie be gon' too. we dun' even ave' an army thar'."
"oh god..." said darkmoore "when blackscale finds out he-"
before darkmoore could finish his sentance, he was interupted.
"blackscale will what?" said a fimilar voice.
bonebalde turned his head back, and there he was, clad in back armor, with a red jewl where his left eye would be, with gray skin, it was highlord ronald blackscale, the tratior himself, standing behind the troll, his arms corssed behind his back.
"well?" said blackscale.
"sir!" said darkmoore as he stood up and saluted.
"the goblins are all dead, so is fraggletooth" said darkmoore, with a serious tone in his voice.
blackscale covered his mouth with his fist, bowed his head, cracked a full toothed smile, and luaghed a little.
"are you serious?" said blackscale as he removed his fist and rose his head, still smiling. "did you really think i would care about that?"
"the goblins and fraggle mean nothing to me, they are merely a means to an end, all i wanted was that man dead, i wanted to strike a blow to the dwarven kingdom, i have no intrest in taking that redneck hill town, or helping that pathedic clan take new territory, my only intrest is hurting the kingdom."
"but mah' lawd'." said boneblade as he turned towards blackscale. "what of the hobbit? rumors be passin' round that he be a new hera', gratta' than his fa' da'."
"none of our concen." said blackscale "i'll be going now."
blackscale snaped his fingers, and a wind blew into the room, cause dust to cover the entire room.
the dust faded, and just as blackscale said, he was gone.
"is it really not a big deal?" said boneblade,
"if highlord blackscale says its none of our concern, it isn't." said darkmoore.
meanwhile, deep within a large, black castle at the farest north of udyr isle, there is a room.
this room has a thorne up against the wall with a table, the table has a cyrstal ball on it.
the room is silent, most of it is too dark to see, but the light from the cyrstal makes the table and throne visable.
suddenly, the wind is heard blowing in, the window is open.
a faint black mist begins to poor out of the window, the wind begins to blow harder and the mist becomes thicker.
the mist completely covers the cyrstal ball, and its light.
the wind stops, and the mist slowly starts to fade, the light is once again visable, aswell as everything it reveals.
in the throne, a dwarf appears to be sitting the throne, but he is covered by the dark, his face cannot be seen, but he is wearing black armor and seems to have a gray beard.
he moves his hand onto the cyrstal ball and rubs it.
the dwarf moves his hand off the cyrstal ball
harald's face is seen on the cyrstal ball, his eyes are closed, he appears to be sleeping.
"hm hm, oh, harald." says the dwarf, it can be told that it is blackscale from his voice. "just like your father, always trying to be the hero."
"little do you know," said blackscale, "you're already a greater hero than your father ever was."
"lets see how far you go, little harald, lets see."
[end of interlude]
