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Lurgahk: Brutality Within the Shadows


Started by Lurgahk
Post #86645
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Likes Given: 14
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Faction & Race:
Daggerfall Covenant
Imperial
((This is Part 1 of the series I plan to create, the prologue is listed below. I've edited the ending as I was not satisfied with the previous one. I would very much appreciate feedback.))

Prologue - Lurgahk Gro-Vorguu, the Heart Racer
...
Part 2 - A Colorless Sky and a Wandering Bard
Part 3 - Pleasures of a Mad Woman
Part 4 - Love is the Khajiit's Downfall
Part 5 - Journey to Redemption
Part 6 - Newblood

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A lantern marks the end.


All was quiet in the Orsimer Stronghold of Trogus. It was a small stronghold, in the Wrothgarian Mountains, only containing 15 residents. The chieftan, Gorklash, had five wives, eight sons, and only one daughter. The orcish leader had obtained the title of chieftan by slaying his brother, just after he had killed the chieftan before him. His brother foolishly accepted his challenge even after being beaten to a bloody pulp by his father, and thus, Gorklash had assumed his mantle.

Most of Trogus's residents were resting in their cozy beds, the whelps sleeping alone in their huts, while Gorklash was in bed with their mothers. Only three sentries were stationed, guarding the perimeters in the darkness of the night. Only three guards to keep watch over the stronghold, but nothing ever happened in Trogus anyhow...

Except for the few torchers placed around the stronghold, and those carried by the sentries, the night was as dark as the mind of the Daedric Prince, Molag Bal. The stronghold was located on high plateau that could only be reached through a series of passageways through the mountains, which often discouraged adventurers from making their way to Trogus. Most travlerers immediately began walking in the opposite direction as soon as they saw its barricaded gates.

Urgop was stationed on the outskirts of the stronghold, and was to guard the western gate, but the ignorant orc had fallen asleep at his post. Just the day before, Gorklash had contemplated removing the chairs from the outposts, as every night, at least one of the sentries would drift off into unconciousness. Urgop was small for an Orsimer, and especially for those who were born into Trogus. His arms were skinny, almost the size of a human's, and his tusks were barely even potruding from his mouth. He'd been asleep for almost two hours now, and was dreaming of standing over the body of his father and all of his brothers rushing down to congratulate him on his achievment. Hardly realistic, as there were many more suitable to become chieftan than he, and Urgop knew this, but a dream was something to relish, before it would be swept away by orders from his commanding father, or the sound of a wolf howling to the moon.

Unfortunately, Urgop's foolish dream would not last any longer, for his eyes quickly snapped open as he felt a hand latch over his mouth, and just moments after, a dagger sliding effortlessly across his throat. The attacker let go, and Urgop fell out of his chair and onto his knees. He turned his head just in time to see the boot rushing down towards his skull.

The assassin took a deep sigh of relief and put his hand on the left side of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. The assassin loved this feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The chance of him getting caught would surely result in death, and he enjoyed exploiting this risk to its fullest. He had already taken care of the other two sentries, and they had gone about as well as this one.

He squinted, trying to make out what the layout inside of Trogus was. There were ten huts inside the stronghold, nine of which were lined up in a curve, starting at the western gate and going all the way to the eastern gate. The last hut was as larger than all of the others combined, and was home to Gorklash and his wives. Gorklash enjoyed having all of his women at hand, if he should ever need them.

The assassin walked down the steps of the outpost and proceeded to climb a tree close to the gate. He crawled across the brances, breaking a few of them along the way, each time pausing for a moment and listening to hear if anyone had awoken. He eventually leapt down on the other side of the wall, and crouched down. Very slowly, he walked towards the main hut, not worrying about cover, for the night was the only shroud he needed.

The door to the hut was locked, and the intruder was unsure of how to proceed. He peeked through the keyhole, and could only make out two sets of feet near the back wall. He figured that the beds were all in different rooms, and the one he was viewing was where Gorklash...Well..

Lurgahk shook his head to keep his mind from wandering. He wondered what his next plan of action should be. By all means, he was no expert lockpicker but he couldn't just break the door down. As a result, he decided that he should knock on the door.

THUMP THUMP THUMP!

Gorklash turned away from his forge wife, with an irritated expression on his face. He was particularly ugly for an orsimer, with monstrous facial expressions. He was still wearing his plate armor, always prepared for an attack. He growled, "Wait here." and stomped towards the door. He opened it in frustration, and peered outside.

No one was there.

"Probably one of those damn whelps.." He muttered. He walked back inside of his hut so that he may finally give his wife the attention she so desperately craved, and just when he slipped off the shoulder of her dress, there were three more knocks on the door. He grunted and made his way back to the door, and swung it wide open in rage.

Not a single soul in sight.

"GAH!" He took a deep breath before turning back to go inside. If someone knocked on the door again, Gorklash would not hesitate to bring their head as a trophy to his wife. He could just imagine walking back inside, carrying the head of the ignorant fool, and watching his forge wife light up with glee.

And as soon as he stepped foot inside the house, with the door closed behind him...

THUMP THUMP THUMP!

Gorklash quickly spun on his heels and opened the door, his mind consumed with rage. He ran outside, his sword unsheathed, ready to kill anyone who would try this hard to irritate him. The chieftan was so enraged, he did not even notice the hooded figure slip behind him.

Gorklash continued running out towards the other huts, looking in each one to see if his childeren were asleep. He'd reached eighth hut, when he finally heard a loud thud coming from his hut. He sprinted towards the door, but it was locked from the inside. He could hear no screams, no roars, nothing at all. He took a few steps, and with all of his might knocked the door down in a single charge.

Two of his wives were slumped over the only room in the bed, and under them, a crimson goo stained the sheets.

He ran through another door of his hut, that led into a hallway with several doors that led to the rooms of his beloveds. At the end of the hallway were was his forge wife standing over a battered corpse that leaned against the back wall. She had a bent, unlit lantern in her hands, presumably the weapon she used to bludgeon the intruder.

Gorklash sheathed his sword and approached his wife. "Yokra?" He slowly approached the scene, and his wife turned to him with an expression of pity on her face. On the way, Gorklash opened each door, to make sure there were no more murderers on the loose. All he found were two more female orc corpses. When he reached his wife, he did not know what to think.

It was a male Orsimer, covered in grey leather armor from head to toe. Pockets littered his entire outfit, including his belt and jacket. His hood concealed his face.

Gorklash was about to speak to his last remaining wife, when he heard the corpse gasp for air. The chieftan immediately grunted and knelt down to the intruder, a snarl on his face. "Who are you, scum?"

The assassin's heart was beating faster than ever.

The hooded figure moved his eyes up to face Gorklash. He grew a small grin on his face, with blood seeping through his teeth. He did not know whether this grin was from nervousness, excitement, or pure shock.

"ANSWER ME!"

Indeed, this grin was of pure shock, for the intruder could not even speak.

"I'LL GUT YOU RIGHT NOW IF YOU DO NOT ANSWER ME! WHO ARE YOU, AND WHO HIRED YOU?" Gorklash was close to the assassin's face now, to the point where the battered orc could smell the chieftan's foul breath.

The hooded figure could not wait any longer, he must act now before the chieftan acted on his promises. He quickly pulled a dagger from his hip and shoved it through Gorklash's chin.

The intruder's mind finally began to register what he had been asked. "I am Lurgahk."

Now it was the forge wife that was in shock, her jaw open, and tears filling her eyes. She was unable to move. Lurgahk slowly got to his feet, rubbing the blood from his bottom lip.

The forge wife let out a scream and charged Lurgahk with a lantern, but was stopped by a dagger piercing her gut. She fell over on her side, moaning in pain. Lurgahk quickly ripped the lantern from her hands and began repeatedly bashing her head in with it.

Lurgahk made his way out of Trogus, limping and beaten. But it was time for him to look for another adventure. It was time for him to yet again, look for another rush of adrenaline.
This post was last modified: February 22nd 2014, 12:33 AM by Lurgahk
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Post #86647
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Likes Given: 24
Likes Received: 46
Faction & Race:
Daggerfall Covenant
Breton
I liked it pretty good it could have had more in it like slipping in behind the Chieftain and murdering his family in the night


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