[Archive] The Black Raiders of Uzkulak(1)


Snow settled on the furs and jet black eyebrows and beard of Khadrakk Ironwalker, black metallic ringlets and trinkets clicked together in the icy breeze as his Thunderfire Slave Barge cruised through the Frozen Sea, the Thunder Roller at the front of the giant metallic behemoth crushing and splintering the pack ice allowing the ship to make slow but steady progress. The plume of smoke from the funnels stretched far back to be lost to the blizzard of snow and reforming pack ice behind them. He smiled and squinted his eyes against the white wall in front of him, the raids on the Baersonlings had gone well and they were returning to Uzkulak with a hold full of Norse slaves to be sent on their journey to the mines of Gorgoth to live the rest of their short, worthless lives as slaves to serve the whims of Hashut. Those presumed more worthy would of course be sent to the Great Ziggurats of Zharr-Naggrund to be sacrificed in the giant Brass Bull to appease Hashut. Three days he figured had passed since the event and soon they would enter the great gates at the northern base of the River Ruin, and he could finally discover what in the name of Hashut had caused those accursed waves. They had been ashore when the waves struck, almost as high as the Fjords where they were fighting the Baersonlings. As well as the waves and falling pack ice mighty rifts had sundered the earth under their feet. He spat in disgust at the thought of the Tribesmen that were lost down those massive fissures, the loss of revenue and respect that would have accompanied his return hurt far more then those he had lost in his retinue. The Hobgoblins were without doubt the strongest and most cunning that he had so far pressed into service but easily replaced from the pens of Uzkulak, his Clansmen however would be more difficult to replace but his wealth and fame would see to that.

A shout from above heralded the sight of Uzkulak but something seemed wrong, the mighty harbour usually identified by a cloud of smoke from the Battle and Slave Barges was missing, as they drew closer he eyed the flotsam and debris closely, the ruins of the fleet were becoming thicker and thicker as they drew near. �?oStop the ship, Hashut�?Ts Rage, Full Steam Astern!�?� he bellowed, a lurch signalled that his shout had been heard and acted upon. Facing the heavens he closed his eyes and focused his rage, his armoured gauntlet smashing a Hobgoblin from its feet and over the side of the ship, a billowing cloud of red appeared from where the creature had disappeared under the freezing water accompanied by a slowing stream of bubbles. He raised his head once again to the sky and bellowed in rage. As he opened his eyes he saw streaks of fire puncture the clouds, giant pieces of flaming rock landing in the sea sending clouds of steam high into the sky and sending forth waves to rock his ship. A thought struck him then, a small kernel of thought, the Priests had told him of this day.

The day when a Champion of the Gods would once again rise from the North, look to the South and wash away the Lands of the Old World, causing a war to end all wars. �?oFor these are the times, these are the End Times, these are the Days of Hashut, when fire and brimstone fall from the Sky.�?� The words echoed through his mind. �?oTurn us around, we move for Sjoktraken,�?� he bellowed to those in the massive engine rooms. He smiled at the thought of the fighting to come, all was not lost, they would land at Sjoktraken, lay it to waste with the mighty Thunderfire Battery on the prow of the ship and make for Black Blood Pass. There they would find their forsaken kin, those who turned away from the words and power of Hashut, and deliver their wisdom. �?oGo to the Pens, tell the Baersonlings that they may fight for me or they may die in my Engines!�?� he bellowed, his face a mask of pure joy and menace. �?oThank Hashut, it is finally time to make our forgotten kin pay for their ignorance! Fetch my Hammer�?� He bellowed as he turned and gripped the rails at the prow, smiling into the incoming blizzard, his crew cheering at the flaming lumps of rock that fell from the sky. The End Comes had come and the Dawi Zharr would march to war in Hashut�?Ts Name.


I like your entry very much. I’m biased since it’s got a lovely naval flair, but it’s a great story anyway. :wink: