Immortal Blood

	Mark Belt (Stars) Barren Realms Mud Part 3 War

Many years passed, and war did indeed come to the Mountain. Countless were the enemies that came against the dwarves, and countless were the battles fought. But the more hopeless the cause, the more impossible the numbers, the harder Brodgar would fight. With fierce determination that rivaled, and eventually overshadowed, any of the veteran warriors, he slew countless goblins, ogres, and creatures never before seen in the Realms. There was no enemy who could stand face to face with those ferocious blue eyes and not feel fear.

He began as a lowly page in the Army of the Mountain. Even with the legend of his father to help him, no one thought much of his warrior abilities. Indeed, before that moment, Brodgar himself had little interest in war and fighting. Before that moment, however, he did not know the truth of his heritage, and he never had a reason to fight. Now he had both of those things, and when the dwarf he had been ordered to serve—as if Brodgar were a low born orphan and not the son of the greatest hero of the age—fell in battle, it was Brodgar who picked up the fallen axe and slew the hobgoblin. Then, as if he had tried on a new pair of boots and found that they fit perfectly, he began to lay about him with such fury that he single-handedly held off three very startled ogres who quickly dropped their weapons and ran away from the "Lil’ sky-eyed demon."

The officers in the Army noticed Brodgar’s ferocity, and they were at first slack-jawed with amazement. Then the young dwarf was given his own axe and sent out to fight along side the common soldiers. "He be the son of Khardan, ye know," the lieutenant said, "He can’t be no total cave-worm."

Those in Brodgar’s troop began to be impressed with the growing skill of their new comrade. The foes began to fall almost as soon as they appeared, and Brodgar showed no fear before any creature, and it was true; he felt none. Many were the times when a dwarven soldier was trapped by the enemy and then was miraculously saved by the blinding blade of the Little Warrior. It wasn’t long before soldiers of other troops began asking to be transferred so that they could fight next to the young dwarf.

One day, General Tharak of the Mountain Army was watching the battle from on top of a tall hill so that he could get a good view of the battle. A steady rain was falling from murky clouds that day, so the sun was obscured from his view. The General had to squint his eyes to see even the largest details. It was because of this hindrance that he missed the goblins until it was too late. He noticed in dismay that a huge army had been hidden in a forest on the western flank. They spilled out from among the trees and it appeared that they would have a clear run through the heart of his exposed Army. Never one to leave the fighting for long, Tharak gave out a thunderous battle cry and drove straight into the teeth of the goblin fighters. And, not unlike the pelting rain, he hammered at his foes with his axe, screaming in savage fury.

Alas, he never stood a chance. Though he was a great warrior, he could not stand up against five-thousand screaming goblins with only three-hundred dwarven soldiers.

"This be the day we die, me lads!" Tharak yelled out as he wrenched his axe free from a green-bloodied chest. And he started to laugh grimly, because he knew it would soon be over. But it was not over yet.

The advance of the goblins did not go unnoticed by young Brodgar, who was somewhat near to the exposed flank. He saw the General fighting for his life, and realized that though the dwarves were fighting valiantly, they were almost overrun.

"Warriors of the Mountain!" Brodgar shouted above the battle. "We be ambushed! Rally to the General! Rally to the General!"

All those who heard and were able to move followed Brodgar to assist Tharak in his desperate struggle. The tired dwarves regained some of their spirit when they saw that the Little Warrior was with them, and so Brodgar’s surge was so intensely fierce that the goblins were almost thrown back in one strike. But the shear number of goblins began to slowly turn the conflict back around. Soon, even the small, albeit furious rush of new dwarves appeared to have done no good in the long term.

After several long moments, General Tharak found himself standing back to back with a smaller dwarf. "Thanks for coming, lad," Tharak said, "but I’m afeard ye only came to die with me."

"We’ll not die this day, General," said the shorter dwarf.

"I wish I had ye courage, small warrior," Tharak said halfheartedly.

Then the young dwarf’s eyes gleamed bright blue as he pointed out across the ocean of goblin shields. "See there?" he asked.

Tharak looked out without much interest. Then he saw what the young dwarf had spotted. "Aye, lad, I see!" Tharak exclaimed. "It be the great goblin himself, Captain Shagrat." He smacked his axe against his shield. "If die today we must, then we shall die in glory!"

The large General and the small soldier drove through the goblins like a spearhead through an overripe watermelon. Woe to the goblin that crossed their path that day! Always pushing forward, never straying from sight of their goal, the pair of Mountain Dwarves finally faced Captain Shagrat and his personal guard.

"Captain Shagrat!" bellowed the General as a crack of lightning split the sky. "I be Tharak of the Army of the Mountain. Fight me, if ye dare!"

The goblin Captain sneered at the nicked and bloodied Tharak and, after barking a few commands to his personal guard in goblin-speak, stepped forward to face the General. "I be a feastin’ on darf tanite!" the Captain garbled and then grinned sadistically.

Tharak and Shagrat met and soon they were fighting with vicious abandon, and it seemed to go well for the dwarf at the start. Tharak was far stronger than the Captain and also appeared to be the better skilled. In fact, the only blow that the goblin landed was nothing more than a scratch from his dagger, barely slipping past the General’s defense under his left arm. But it was a cruel strike, for Shagrat’s dagger was poisoned. (That’s where the old saying comes from: Better than a scratch from Shagrat’s dagger!)

Captain Shagrat was a competent fighter (as far as goblins can be, I suppose) and one reason why he stayed alive so long, was that he never took too many chances. He knew that Tharak was a superior warrior, and that a fair fight would be suicidal at best. The only reason he had agreed to the duel was because he had secretly told his soldiers to surround the combatants and move in when he started to lose. Even with the poison coursing through Tharak’s blood, things were not going well for the goblin. So it was, that battered, bruised and on his last legs, Shagrat the great goblin Captain began to laugh. It was a wicked cackling sort of laugh that would make the hair stand up on a warrior’s toes.

"What be ye laughin’ at, cave-slug?" Tharak growled.

"Cuz, yoo fat stenched-up Munton Darf," Shagrat gurgled in glee, "One plus one iz too! See? One…I dun poison’d yoo. Plus one… you die soon. An’ then… me gobins get yoo too! See? That’s too!" He held up three fingers.

Tharak shook his head in wonderment over goblin math. But he knew that Shagrat was telling the truth. He sighed and waited for the other goblins to jump in. But they didn’t jump in. Tharak looked around, and suddenly he grinned. "What goblins, Shagrat?" he asked.

The Goblin Captain laughed even harder. "Why, me gobins, of carse! Yoo bloated arr…uh…" Then, as Shagrat looked around, he noticed that not even one member of his personal guard was standing around him. His ugly yellow eyes opened wide. "Where are me gobins?" he asked, suddenly very frightened.

"They’re here, Shagrat," came the quiet voice of a small dwarf. "But I don’t think that they be in any condition to salute right now, I’m afeared."

Shagrat looked down and saw his entire guard of goblins lying on the ground, unmoving. Then he raised his head and looked into the piercing blue eyes of…Death. "Ahhh!" Shagrat screamed. "You kill’d me gobins!" Then Shagrat leaped ferociously at the small dwarf. The Captain’s fury was so great that he nearly flew through the air. His body sailed across the battle site, and when it landed back on the ground… It was very neatly sliced into two pieces.

When it was apparent that there was no one else willing to fight him, the undersized dwarf leaned upon his axe, his blue eyes shining through the storm like the fires of heaven itself. The sight awed even Tharak, the General of the Mountain Army, who dropped to one knee in respect of the small warrior.

After the fall of their great "Undefeatable" Captain Shagrat, the goblins were disheartened and then finally shattered. The outnumbered and once desperate looking dwarves suddenly seemed much more confident, and larger, and stronger, and meaner, and…the goblins began to run away.

So ended the Battle of the Goblin Storm (so named because of the weather as much as for the goblins).

Shortly after the costly, but victorious battle, Tharak began to weaken. His face took on a ghostly pale color, and even in the rain, Brodgar could see that the old dwarf was feverish. It wasn’t long before the doctors pronounced that the General would soon die. Indeed, it was a credit to the endurance of dwarves, and no small amount to Tharak’s own stubbornness, that he lasted as long as he had. But before he lay down to rest with the Great Heroes of Legend, he recognized the small dwarf for who he was.

"Me lad," the quickly-fading General had said to the small warrior, "Ye do indeed be carryin’ the blood of your father. Brodgar, son of Khardan, ye now be the greatest warrior of the Mountain. Before I die, I do make ye an officer in the Army." Then he coughed and had to sit down. "I be havin’ no doubts that ye be General afore too long, me boy. Ye show a keen wit and a strong arm. The lads ‘ill follow ye… an’ ye be smart enough to lead ‘em."

Then General Tharak died, a hero to all the clans of the Mountain.

Brodgar grew strong in the many years that followed that moment. True to the prediction of General Tharak, the Army of the Mountain embraced the Little Warrior. As the years passed and the battles grew fiercer, Brodgar became even greater, and his fame grew as well. Not only in the Mountains, but also among the camps of the Humans and Elves, who eventually joined the war against the God of Chaos. They wrote songs praising the dwarf’s valor . The Avians in the air sung their admiration for all to hear. The Druids of the forests, and the mysterious Illithids sang of his glory. Even the thieving Halflings, in their own fashion, respected the great warrior (which usually included much bragging about being his "most trusted friend"). There was no place in all of the Realms where the name of Brodgar did not inspire great hope…or crippling fear.

Long and terrible indeed was the war with Thanos (over 150 years, if my new book is to be believed), and great were the losses on both sides. So great was the destruction of the battles, that the time came to be known as the Age of Fire. Uncounted numbers of towns, villages and even kingdoms perished in flames. Innumerable people fought and died, sacrificing themselves to save the Realms. But finally, after the grueling and untiring efforts of General Brodgar and his armies, Thanos was thrown back into the Great Void of Chaos. The War of Desolation was over.