Uproar in the Citadel
by Wulfhere Hausakliufr

Smoke fills tha dank air. Raw sewage runs in rivers lined with limestone. A heavy wooden door is thrown open. In marches a troop of guards, behind them 4 workers carry tha limp and battered body of a warlord. Tha guards stand and salute tha figure by tha shelves of manuscripts.

"Lord King ghhgg we are attacked at our gates" gurgles tha elite guard in charge of the troop. "We have driven the evil ones..... ggggler .. before us!"

Turning, the king eyes tha guard. His gaze passes o'er tha workers and tha body they carry. His features explode in rage at tha sight. "Aroooeewww! my warlord! slain!? WHO HAS DONE THIS?" roars tha king.

Swaying, as his kind do, tha elite neverthaless does not cower at tha challenge. "Tha invaders Sire, tha old enemies! ggllarrak ... we destroyed them by Zek! but many fell in tha battle." Takin a deep breath tha guard stared at tha stone floor, willin his knees not to chatter.

Tha King turns to pace over to another door. "Alchemist! Attend me NOW!" he shouts. Tha door opens after a long pause and in floats another, clad in pale gossimer robes. "Take this ... grarrrr... this thing" points tha King at tha warlord's corpse, "and make of it a servant for your Lord". "One that will not fail me again!"

Panting deeply tha King works to master his anger. "If tha welps of Brell did invade ... where be tha bodies!?" Graspin tha elite by his tunic tha King heaves him off his feet, breathin hot fetid steam. Tha elite's nerve finally breaks, in fear for his life. Glancin as tha workers carry tha dead warlord after tha departin shaman, he begins to shudder uncontrollably.

"No sign o tha enemy remains Sire. My troop arrived to tha clamor o steel but at tha last, two dorfs were seen retreatin to tha thicket. Argggckkk we followed but lost them in tha mists. Pleeaaaseee Sire..." tha elite looses his bowels in dread.

With a powerful motion, tha King hurls tha elite against tha far door. Where he crashes in a heap. "Alchemist! take this cowardly refuse as well!" Bellowin in rage now tha King shouts commands "Double tha guard! Bring me those cursed dorfs!"

Later a strangly dazed guard begins his patrol of tha sewers, his leggins stil stained wif offal. No memory of his former life sparks his mind as he gnashes his teeth with berserk intensity.

Tha moon rides high over Misty Thicket. Clanagen o Stormguard peers into tha thick fog. "Dunnae worry brudder Wulf. Come mornin all will be reet". He takes a cool linen soaked in ale and wipes tha blood from Wulfhere's wound, a deep gash along tha ribs. Bubbles froth with e'ery breath eh takes, his ruddy face pale and beaded with sweat. "Clan ... where?..." Grittin his teeth against tha pain, Underfoot's own closes his bloodshot eyes and begins to pray. After a time his breathin be less labored and he falls into deep slumber.

"Come mornin those gobbos will pay dearly aye!" spits Clanagen as he grips tight his great axe and stares far into tha darkness on all sides.