Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.19T)
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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Uyaashie watched intently as Kuzat the goblin told his tales, weaving a tapestry of shadows playing out on the chamber wall. He used only a small brass oil lamp and yet his umbral creations had a surprising texture and life to them. Soon even the cynical Hob who served Wachegak was entranced along with everyone watching. Only Uyage seemed unmoved.
Retaak knew that Kuzat had spotted him long before he and his crew came to stand at the back of the little crowd washing the Goblin. Ogres were rare in the Wormspiral and Retaak was a curiosity beyond even that. He had no doubt that even as they watched, runners would be bringing news of his whereabouts to the powerful and interested. Information was the currency of the truly powerful in warrens.
As they watched, Kuzat ended his shadow-puppet play to riotous applause. Smiling, he continued his performance, calling each of the children watching to him. As they arrived he produced small copper bits from behind their ears, out of their pockets, and even from the shoe of one laughing orc girl who ran back to her mother. Retaak nodded approvingly at the sight of this. In the Lower Warrens male and female mixed more freely and often kept their offspring with them; this seemed more natural to him, even if the Eyes of Dread and other cults insisted that only those raised Tuchoraayurusha would rise to their full glory in the eyes of the Dread Lord.
After the money was given out and the crowd dispersed, Kuzat made his way to Retaak.
“Dread Lord’s blessings on you, Retaak,” said the Goblin, looking up. His voice was rich and melodious, a well-honed instrument.
“Blessings on you as well,” said Retaak, rolling his eyes. Kuzat knew well that Retaak hated the religious observances of the Dread Lord.
“Uyage, it is good to see you,” Kuzat said to the Markswoman.
“I do see you,” said Uyage.
“You have not yet forgiven me, I see,” said Kuzat, seeming to droop with sadness.
“I do not forget,” said Uyage. “Were it not for Retaak, I would sell your hide to recoup my losses.”
“They started a alehouse together,” said Retaak to Ashoktyaar and Uyaashie. The troll shrugged and the Hob nodded sagely.
Kuzat nodded to Ashoktyaar who nodded back; the almost bow that was the most common way that spawn showed respect to their peers.
“And who is this?” asked Kuzat, looking up at Uyaashie.
“This is Uyaashie, one of Wechegak’s most skilled agents,” said Retaak. “Uyaashie, this is Kuzat, the Chaos weaver.”
Kuzat bowed deeply to Uyaashie. Uyage snorted.
“Chaos Weaver? what an interesting monicker,” said Uyaashie. “I must admit your shadow tricks were impressive, but what can yo do that that is–“
Uyaashie stopped. Retaak noticed that they were now speaking with a simulacrum, a doll that looked like it’s master and given a semblance of life through simple magic and misdirection.
“Now do you see why we need his help?” asked Retaak.
Uyaashie, eyes roaming the room until Kuzat appeared from behind a large clay pot, nodded. “Someone well versed in deception and distraction, I approve.”
“Good, let us hope that Ushochhushi feels the same when we report to him,” said Retaak.
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