Grag the Fly Lord {Fan Fiction}
THE FLY LORD PROLOGUE Far to the North of the wolds edge mountains upon the borders of the lands inhabited by the northern tribes of men collectively known as the Kurgan there was a great fire burning. The air stunk of rotting flesh and cooking meat as corpses were piled onto the blaze their skin melting as they screamed in pain their eternal souls longing to leave the fleshy confines of their ruined flesh and seeking to swim through the mists of time to be at piece alas their shells would not crack. The screams of the dying and the suffering were intermingled with guttural chants and warcries of a million strong gathering. Each barbaric and tribal call resounded in the heavens a chorus for the gods, great effigies made of baking dung cast out great clouds of stinking corpulent gas that would suffocate any man, the grim faces carved into the man sized fecal matter grimaced with rage and barely controlled battle lust before each of these offerings to the gods stood dancing shamans that cheered and whooped bellowing warcrys and whipping their brethren into a storm of zealotry. From amongst the celebration strode a mighty figure standing a full twelve heads above any man and five times wider it's body shone with an orange light transmuting it's skin into a muddy manajery of earthy tones a cloack of wolf skin covering most of it's body huge shoulders each adorned with a wolfs head and a large axe easily the size of a man gripped fiercly as if ready for battle. with a deep resounding roar that shook the earth itself the congregation cried their devotion "WAAAGGGHH!!!!" Then it began around the fire the roaring the bellowing the challenges all flooded into each other as battle fury overtook the assembled mass then in a blur of green mist and melting body parts on of the shamans was ripped into pieces showering the blaze in a green ooze that seemed to leak and seethe into the very essence of the inferno. The giant creature marched towards the green flames a feral glint in it's eyes raising it's axe it called for silence once more as the shamans began their ritual anew the horde of sweaty filthy stinking bodies looked towards the great beasts axe "Boyz! Dem Oomies iz cumin' fer uz, soz we gotz ta get redy fer a fight" another resoundinhg cry of "WAAAGGGH!!" arose "So'z letz get a move on. Da shamanz iz callin down Gorkz Blessin and requyesting Mork'z strength now letz getz our choppas n meet dem wit Orcy steel" "WAAAAGGGHHH!!!" once more battered the heavens the feral chanting was insanity to those whom could not feel it's energy, taste it's power imagine the acress of the calls exquisite meaning upon the orcy brain. Then all fell quiet as a hush fell from the horde their fighting will sapped from their bodies as an icy chill enveloped their minds, bodies and hearts. One of the shamans was visibly shaking his body awash with a thick green ooze like substance then in a sudden crack its ravaged body came to pieces as from within strode a single norseman clad in wolf furs and steel plating, The mark of the fly lord upon it's brow the kurgans green tinted skin and vast gaping wounds festered with filth and puss. Each arms from the elbow down was transmuted into large spikes like objects made from bronzed bone, his shoulder bore many large skin plastered protrusions and perhaps the most terrifying thing about this individual were the 6 tentacles bore upon it's back each tipped with rusted steel prongs. Next came another kurgan, and another until fully 50 of them emerged from the darkness as the orcs sapped bodies trudged into action the sorceries of the powerful kurgan shamans had sapped the will of these creatures great scores of goblins fled towards the lines of the advancing human cavalry. fifty knights of the Rieklandguard advanced backed by a unit of twelve swordsman and fifteen halbadiers sent to track down and slay this orcy warband. "WAAAGGH!!" screamed the large orc trying to rouse any form of movement from these lathergic creatures but the concealed kurgan shamans kept chanting the dakr tongue polluted the air as swarms of flies descended from the 50 warriors now advancing upon the green tide the creatures bit and chew flesh around the eyes and ears attacking vitals in an effort to slay this foe for their creator. Then there was a roaring cheer over the hill of the crater followed a mass of Red and white and the thundering of Hooves. The tentacled Kurgan stared fire in his eyes "Groktor!" one of the shamans emerged "yes Grag?" Grag the Plagued lord of the Tribes of the fly stood unmoving his gaze fixed through the holes in his helmet met the cavalry and issued orders "Release the greenskins we're going to get our horses" They kurgans fled through the shadow as the sounds of battle ensued as they ran Grag drew to a screeching halt head hung low he gazed out before him lost to an unknown realm where only his madness and suffering existed then he fell to his knees unconscious. Chapter 1 - Coming Of The Fly Lord The Chaos wastes home to thousands of monsters and the very Dregs of the human race. Although not all are as fiendish and decrepit as one may think for far to the east within the steppes resides a village of straw and mud brick buildings with great banners unfurled each a dedication to Nerghule the great lord of flies. The people of this village are one of the many "Tribes of the fly" their chieftain Vjiskav Wolfbane. One morning during the heaviest of winters for the noble people of this village Vjiskav's concubine became pregnant which under any other circumstance would be a blessing for Vjisk who currently had no air to his position when he would return to his ancestors. But this year was one of unspeakable plague and famine, despair and misery was hung in the air like a great veil that choked life from the land only to replace it with death, war and destruction. When Vjiskavs concubine became ill with the plague that even now swept the village striking down man women and child. For nine long months had his wife suffered this same disease that struck down all within days yet Vjisk and his chosen were spared and as he watched the situation he smiled thinking to himself that his child was chosen by the lord of flies for greatness hence had it's mother lived. When the boy was born it's mother withered away to a corpse in seconds ooze covered the floor as where she lay stood plaguebearers the foot soldiers of Nerghule thier cyclopian eyes regarding the child with reverence before dissipating into the winds of magic once more. Upon the childs brow was the mark of the lord of flies three identical orbs each dug deeply into the boys skull crusted with filth and puss. "Vjiskav it is a sign from the great father Nerghule himself your son has been blessed by him and is destined for greatness" Groktor the tribes shaman who was older then living memory intoned in a strong commanding voice "He shall succeed you when you join your fathers...however we have more problems" Vjiskav turned from his infant the sickly green of his skin almost glowing in the gloomy room " problems?! PROBLEMS?! we have the favoured of the lord of flies with us now how can we have any problems?" his voice frantic and excited. Groktor stared strongly at the over zealous chieftain "well since you inquire with such arrogance then you shall know. The boy is blessed yes..but he is still an infant and our tribe is weak we shall need to get to safety till your boy can raise a blade or else we are all doomed" the venerable shamans voice bore much stoicism and reverence. "hmm...You are right Groktor I have been blinded by my blessings...we shall move into the mountains north .. get the tribe ready to move by tomorrow" the chieftain looked his shaman squarly in the eyes a battle of wills going on at that instant "as you wish lord" Groktor bowed and moved out of the hut. Looking round all Groktor could see was the devastation of the plague and the masses of bodies piled in funeral pyres feeling a deep sense of both pride and despair he moved towards the village center sounding a magical horn who's maddened tone rang through the village filling those whom heard with a sense of urgency."Men,Women, Children, Warriors we move north into the cave systems of the darkhound mountains . I can not disclose why we must go but Nerghule urges this course of action" the gathered crowd nodded a response before rushing back to their homes. ********** Vjiskave stood immobile as his attendants strapped on his rusting Iron vambraces and hauberk before attaching his wolf pelt and bear skin cloak. With his armor bolted to his bloated pallid body he turned to one of his attendants who held the infant in a firm grasp "Hmm...he shall be a great warrior...I admit I fear he shall overthrow me for one whom holds the lord of flies favour at such an age must surly have something that the rest of us lack" the chieftan so deep in thought almost miseed the sounding of Groktors horn to signal the move. hurrying out the babe clutched in his grasp he swung onto his horse. Gaheras a might steed standing 4 heads higher then Vjiskav himself it's body covered in wounds and sores while its barding rusted and broke with the slightest movement. Following Vjisk came two of his greatest bodyguards hulking men dressed ornate armor each wielding a great scythe. They clambered onto thier considerably less imposing mounts and flanked their lord down towards the village center. **************** The smell of unwashed bodies and rotting meat filled the village as the massed inhabitant brought horse,family and even home with them. stood upon a great lecturn the elderly shaman gazed out across the throng awaiting the appearance of the chieftain. Amongst the gathered tribes people there were many families but one stood out. The cousin of the chieftans blessed son a young warrior by the name of Vadrek Kuul waited impatiently for an explanation to the sudden move having had to abandon his plans of a raid upon a neighbouring tribe, Blade in hand the paced up and down. Then came the thundering of Vjiskavs horse and his bodyguards as they rode down towards are crowd child wrapped in a bundle of furs rested within the mighty warriors arms. as he rode towards the shaman Vadrek made his move stepping out axe raised he began barking questions at his uncle "Why shall we move on such a whim?! Uncle have you forgotten the glory we would bring and the slaves that would fill our smitheries and shrines?! have you forgotten the warriors we could bring to our tribe?! well?...ANSWER ME!!" the young warriors tone becoming impatient, then the chieftan began laughing a croaking throaty sound before replying "Why boy do you think me such a fool?...I have a gift from great father Nerghule that far utways slaves and we are destined for greatness with it" "A gift? what gift?" the boys tone became excited "Well if you are dying to know it is my Son Grag blessed by the lord of flies since birth" Vjiksavs tone was as arrogant as it was authoritative "Grag promises greatness for our tribe but we must move now as our enemies will over power our warriors and slay my son who is too young to grasp a blade" his voice now louder as he addressed everyone near him "Now! the journey to the Darkhound mountains must begin lest our rivals cut our throats and drink our blood by dawn". Chapter 2 - The Path to Darkhound Mountains The day was unusually warm for this time of year as the swirling sky was coloured a multitude of colours as far of in the distance the swirling vortex that marked the chaos heart land slowly leaked magical corruption into the world. Groktor looked towards a faintly recognizable object, a large tree formed into a torrent of horror and rage the branches each hung with grisly and lovingly crafted devotions to the lord of flies, this was the point of no return. Beside him rode his apprentices, shamans who had dedicated thier lives and souls to serving Groktor and the lord of Flies. the young apprentice to his left, a slim runt of a boy with discoloured skin and sunken eyes covered in rings of black infected tissue by the name of Bjorjick rode forth "Is the chieftains child really possessed of nerghules favor? for I see no reason why such a child should be when the boy would be merely cut to shreds to ward off a challenge to Vjiskavs rule" the young shamn barely expected Groktors great staff to knock him from the horse "I am a man of my word, I have sworn oaths before lord Nerghule and Vjiskavs to serve the tribes chieftain faithfully and as such I shall not hear of threats towards his own family"
THE FLY LORD PROLOGUE Far to the North of the wolds edge mountains upon the borders of the lands inhabited by the northern tribes of men collectively known as the Kurgan there was a great fire burning. The air stunk of rotting flesh and cooking meat as corpses were piled onto the blaze their skin melting as they screamed in pain their eternal souls longing to leave the fleshy confines of their ruined flesh and seeking to swim through the mists of time to be at piece alas their shells would not crack. The screams of the dying and the suffering were intermingled with guttural chants and warcries of a million strong gathering. Each barbaric and tribal call resounded in the heavens a chorus for the gods, great effigies made of baking dung cast out great clouds of stinking corpulent gas that would suffocate any man, the grim faces carved into the man sized fecal matter grimaced with rage and barely controlled battle lust before each of these offerings to the gods stood dancing shamans that cheered and whooped bellowing warcrys and whipping their brethren into a storm of zealotry. From amongst the celebration strode a mighty figure standing a full twelve heads above any man and five times wider it's body shone with an orange light transmuting it's skin into a muddy manajery of earthy tones a cloack of wolf skin covering most of it's body huge shoulders each adorned with a wolfs head and a large axe easily the size of a man gripped fiercly as if ready for battle. with a deep resounding roar that shook the earth itself the congregation cried their devotion "WAAAGGGHH!!!!" Then it began around the fire the roaring the bellowing the challenges all flooded into each other as battle fury overtook the assembled mass then in a blur of green mist and melting body parts on of the shamans was ripped into pieces showering the blaze in a green ooze that seemed to leak and seethe into the very essence of the inferno. The giant creature marched towards the green flames a feral glint in it's eyes raising it's axe it called for silence once more as the shamans began their ritual anew the horde of sweaty filthy stinking bodies looked towards the great beasts axe "Boyz! Dem Oomies iz cumin' fer uz, soz we gotz ta get redy fer a fight" another resoundinhg cry of "WAAAGGGH!!" arose "So'z letz get a move on. Da shamanz iz callin down Gorkz Blessin and requyesting Mork'z strength now letz getz our choppas n meet dem wit Orcy steel" "WAAAAGGGHHH!!!" once more battered the heavens the feral chanting was insanity to those whom could not feel it's energy, taste it's power imagine the acress of the calls exquisite meaning upon the orcy brain. Then all fell quiet as a hush fell from the horde their fighting will sapped from their bodies as an icy chill enveloped their minds, bodies and hearts. One of the shamans was visibly shaking his body awash with a thick green ooze like substance then in a sudden crack its ravaged body came to pieces as from within strode a single norseman clad in wolf furs and steel plating, The mark of the fly lord upon it's brow the kurgans green tinted skin and vast gaping wounds festered with filth and puss. Each arms from the elbow down was transmuted into large spikes like objects made from bronzed bone, his shoulder bore many large skin plastered protrusions and perhaps the most terrifying thing about this individual were the 6 tentacles bore upon it's back each tipped with rusted steel prongs. Next came another kurgan, and another until fully 50 of them emerged from the darkness as the orcs sapped bodies trudged into action the sorceries of the powerful kurgan shamans had sapped the will of these creatures great scores of goblins fled towards the lines of the advancing human cavalry. fifty knights of the Rieklandguard advanced backed by a unit of twelve swordsman and fifteen halbadiers sent to track down and slay this orcy warband. "WAAAGGH!!" screamed the large orc trying to rouse any form of movement from these lathergic creatures but the concealed kurgan shamans kept chanting the dakr tongue polluted the air as swarms of flies descended from the 50 warriors now advancing upon the green tide the creatures bit and chew flesh around the eyes and ears attacking vitals in an effort to slay this foe for their creator. Then there was a roaring cheer over the hill of the crater followed a mass of Red and white and the thundering of Hooves. The tentacled Kurgan stared fire in his eyes "Groktor!" one of the shamans emerged "yes Grag?" Grag the Plagued lord of the Tribes of the fly stood unmoving his gaze fixed through the holes in his helmet met the cavalry and issued orders "Release the greenskins we're going to get our horses" They kurgans fled through the shadow as the sounds of battle ensued as they ran Grag drew to a screeching halt head hung low he gazed out before him lost to an unknown realm where only his madness and suffering existed then he fell to his knees unconscious. Chapter 1 - Coming Of The Fly Lord The Chaos wastes home to thousands of monsters and the very Dregs of the human race. Although not all are as fiendish and decrepit as one may think for far to the east within the steppes resides a village of straw and mud brick buildings with great banners unfurled each a dedication to Nerghule the great lord of flies. The people of this village are one of the many "Tribes of the fly" their chieftain Vjiskav Wolfbane. One morning during the heaviest of winters for the noble people of this village Vjiskav's concubine became pregnant which under any other circumstance would be a blessing for Vjisk who currently had no air to his position when he would return to his ancestors. But this year was one of unspeakable plague and famine, despair and misery was hung in the air like a great veil that choked life from the land only to replace it with death, war and destruction. When Vjiskavs concubine became ill with the plague that even now swept the village striking down man women and child. For nine long months had his wife suffered this same disease that struck down all within days yet Vjisk and his chosen were spared and as he watched the situation he smiled thinking to himself that his child was chosen by the lord of flies for greatness hence had it's mother lived. When the boy was born it's mother withered away to a corpse in seconds ooze covered the floor as where she lay stood plaguebearers the foot soldiers of Nerghule thier cyclopian eyes regarding the child with reverence before dissipating into the winds of magic once more. Upon the childs brow was the mark of the lord of flies three identical orbs each dug deeply into the boys skull crusted with filth and puss. "Vjiskav it is a sign from the great father Nerghule himself your son has been blessed by him and is destined for greatness" Groktor the tribes shaman who was older then living memory intoned in a strong commanding voice "He shall succeed you when you join your fathers...however we have more problems" Vjiskav turned from his infant the sickly green of his skin almost glowing in the gloomy room " problems?! PROBLEMS?! we have the favoured of the lord of flies with us now how can we have any problems?" his voice frantic and excited. Groktor stared strongly at the over zealous chieftain "well since you inquire with such arrogance then you shall know. The boy is blessed yes..but he is still an infant and our tribe is weak we shall need to get to safety till your boy can raise a blade or else we are all doomed" the venerable shamans voice bore much stoicism and reverence. "hmm...You are right Groktor I have been blinded by my blessings...we shall move into the mountains north .. get the tribe ready to move by tomorrow" the chieftain looked his shaman squarly in the eyes a battle of wills going on at that instant "as you wish lord" Groktor bowed and moved out of the hut. Looking round all Groktor could see was the devastation of the plague and the masses of bodies piled in funeral pyres feeling a deep sense of both pride and despair he moved towards the village center sounding a magical horn who's maddened tone rang through the village filling those whom heard with a sense of urgency."Men,Women, Children, Warriors we move north into the cave systems of the darkhound mountains . I can not disclose why we must go but Nerghule urges this course of action" the gathered crowd nodded a response before rushing back to their homes. ********** Vjiskave stood immobile as his attendants strapped on his rusting Iron vambraces and hauberk before attaching his wolf pelt and bear skin cloak. With his armor bolted to his bloated pallid body he turned to one of his attendants who held the infant in a firm grasp "Hmm...he shall be a great warrior...I admit I fear he shall overthrow me for one whom holds the lord of flies favour at such an age must surly have something that the rest of us lack" the chieftan so deep in thought almost miseed the sounding of Groktors horn to signal the move. hurrying out the babe clutched in his grasp he swung onto his horse. Gaheras a might steed standing 4 heads higher then Vjiskav himself it's body covered in wounds and sores while its barding rusted and broke with the slightest movement. Following Vjisk came two of his greatest bodyguards hulking men dressed ornate armor each wielding a great scythe. They clambered onto thier considerably less imposing mounts and flanked their lord down towards the village center. **************** The smell of unwashed bodies and rotting meat filled the village as the massed inhabitant brought horse,family and even home with them. stood upon a great lecturn the elderly shaman gazed out across the throng awaiting the appearance of the chieftain. Amongst the gathered tribes people there were many families but one stood out. The cousin of the chieftans blessed son a young warrior by the name of Vadrek Kuul waited impatiently for an explanation to the sudden move having had to abandon his plans of a raid upon a neighbouring tribe, Blade in hand the paced up and down. Then came the thundering of Vjiskavs horse and his bodyguards as they rode down towards are crowd child wrapped in a bundle of furs rested within the mighty warriors arms. as he rode towards the shaman Vadrek made his move stepping out axe raised he began barking questions at his uncle "Why shall we move on such a whim?! Uncle have you forgotten the glory we would bring and the slaves that would fill our smitheries and shrines?! have you forgotten the warriors we could bring to our tribe?! well?...ANSWER ME!!" the young warriors tone becoming impatient, then the chieftan began laughing a croaking throaty sound before replying "Why boy do you think me such a fool?...I have a gift from great father Nerghule that far utways slaves and we are destined for greatness with it" "A gift? what gift?" the boys tone became excited "Well if you are dying to know it is my Son Grag blessed by the lord of flies since birth" Vjiksavs tone was as arrogant as it was authoritative "Grag promises greatness for our tribe but we must move now as our enemies will over power our warriors and slay my son who is too young to grasp a blade" his voice now louder as he addressed everyone near him "Now! the journey to the Darkhound mountains must begin lest our rivals cut our throats and drink our blood by dawn". Chapter 2 - The Path to Darkhound Mountains The day was unusually warm for this time of year as the swirling sky was coloured a multitude of colours as far of in the distance the swirling vortex that marked the chaos heart land slowly leaked magical corruption into the world. Groktor looked towards a faintly recognizable object, a large tree formed into a torrent of horror and rage the branches each hung with grisly and lovingly crafted devotions to the lord of flies, this was the point of no return. Beside him rode his apprentices, shamans who had dedicated thier lives and souls to serving Groktor and the lord of Flies. the young apprentice to his left, a slim runt of a boy with discoloured skin and sunken eyes covered in rings of black infected tissue by the name of Bjorjick rode forth "Is the chieftains child really possessed of nerghules favor? for I see no reason why such a child should be when the boy would be merely cut to shreds to ward off a challenge to Vjiskavs rule" the young shamn barely expected Groktors great staff to knock him from the horse "I am a man of my word, I have sworn oaths before lord Nerghule and Vjiskavs to serve the tribes chieftain faithfully and as such I shall not hear of threats towards his own family"