Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.15T)
Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.
It is a grim tale, so be warned.
Here is the first post from this series.
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“Look what we have here. Come to beg for my mercy Retaak?”
Wechegak received them seated on a throne wrought from pure gold, studded with gems and diamonds. It was a garish thing, especially in the Lower Warrens lording over those who struggled even to earn enough for the basics of life. A goblin, Wechegak was unusually large and ostentatiously fat
“I have come to pay my debt to you, Wechegak,” said Retaak loudly.
Wechegak laughed. The rest of his court laughed with him, all save Biugichaag who moved to stand beside Wechegak’s golden throne, another reminder of his power. Two hulking ogre bulls, battle-scarred veterans both of them, stood at attention nearby, hands resting on fine steel weapons.
“And how will you do that, Retaak?” asked Wechegak.
Retaak pulled one of the silver bars that Ushochhushi had given him out of his belt-pouch. The brilliant metal gleamed in the expensive crystal lights in Wechegak’s hall. Various underlings and hangers-on watched. They reminded Retaak of old prose describing the courtiers of the Kingdoms of old, places long since ground to ruin under the armies of the Dread Lord and the Fellspawn.
A nervous titter broke out among some of the ‘courtiers’; after all what was a bar of silver to one who sat on a throne of gold? But Wechegak did not laugh and his eyes were round and shining as he looked upon Retaak’s silver.
One of the disgusting things about greed, Retaak knew, is that it was never truly satisfied; there was always more money to be had, even if it served no gratification beyond simple avarice.
“Is our debt cleared?” asked Retaak.
“Of course, good Retaak,” said the Goblin, grinning with a mouthful of gold teeth, his tone shifting as if he were addressing a beloved friend. One of his underlings, a smaller goblin with quick hands took the silver bar and brought it directly to Wechegak, who smiled before dropping it into a slot on his throne. “The others called me a fool to lend you so much money, but we showed them. You have paid me back with good returns. I knew I could count on you, old friend. Come, drink, sit with me while your friends enjoy my hospitality.”
Ashoktyaar chuckled and headed for a tabled laden with food. Uyage remained with Retaak, alert and ready.
The wealth goblin’s words did not sway Retaak. While many spawn were driven by their desire for money, for Wechegak it was the only thing that mattered. Even the lives of his fellow spawn, goblin or otherwise, were of little importance compared to the chance for profit. That such a person was allowed to flourish unchecked was a symptom of the disease that afflicted the Fellspawn, and a symbol of the unjust rule of The Dread Lord.
Though it galled him, Retaak did as he was bid and went and sat near Wechegak.
“Have you finally decided to accept reality, Retaak?” asked Wechegak, drinking wine from a golden cup.
Retaak decided to be humble, hoping to get some help from the greedy Goblin.
“Reality has thrust itself upon me,” said Retaak, forcing a smile. “My new patron has sent me on a rather difficult mission. I can’t speak of it, but I could use your help in acquiring some gear and perhaps the services of a professional.”
“I don’t–”
“I can pay,” said Retaak, holding up the other silver bar that Ushochhushi had given him.
Wechegak grinned. “Now you are speaking my language, Ogre. Let’s negotiate!”
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