I've been looking for an excuse to resurrect this horrible excuse for a story. Here's a little bit about Armok, it's motivations, and it's appearance. I've tweaked it a little.
Uthmick Boatrings blinked his eyes. Overhead was a storm of stars. It was beautiful, even to his dwarven eyes. In a normal night, the outdoors loomed overhead, dark with a powdering of pinpricks. Now, the sky was crowded with glimmering lights of all colors. It was like being under a diamond shell, ensconced in majesty and brilliance.
Beneath his hands, the earth he rested on was bark-like and tough- yet it bobbed, ever so gently.
He sat up and saw, stretching from horizon to horizon-
Blood.
Even the raft on which he was upon was curdled blood. A steaming sea of ichor. In fact, the mightiest oceans might be lost in a single swirl of this massive rubicund expanse.
It was not entirely the dark red of Dwarf blood, not the crimson of Human blood, and not the pale hue of elf blood. In fact, it was all of these and more. Every shade of red and black and brown and blue. Every shade of blood flowed through this ocean, swirling together but never quite blending.
Uthmic crawled to the edge of the raft and looked down at the iron-smelling ripples. He saw the brilliant reflections of the stars- the glittering gems- above. He held out his hand.
Each vein was visible. Pulsing not with the blue blood of normal life but with blood visibly red through the skin. Every drop in his body surged to be one with the eternal gore.
He produced a needle-like dagger from his scabbard. The same one that slit his throat, and yet it was oddly clean.
The point of the blade met his index finger. A droplet of blood swelled and dropped into the greater flow. His finger bled no more.
Ripples spread from the edge of the raft, trailing calm behind. The ripples met the horizon far faster than they should have.
For a moment every sound was gone- the sloshing of the sea, the sound of Uthmic's breath.
The ocean bowed upward before the crude raft, and the blood parted in foaming waves. A huge maw, circular and filled with teeth, breached the water. It arose from a serpentine, spiky, and clawed form. It tapered, growing wider as it extended down into the churning sea. Every pore of the beast, the titanic god, poured blood. Pure blood, not merely the blood of any particular creature, but simply pure blood. It must have stood hundreds of feet tall.
Uthmic rode out the waves as best he could, and then he could see the God in more clarity. Armok was not in fact as close as the dwarf had believed.
He realized he had underestimated Armok's height manyfold.
Uthmic stood on his raft and spoke:
"Oh, mighty Armok, who is incarnadine. Armok, god of gods. Show me mercy for my pride in summoning you, oh, all-that-is-gore."
There was a screeching roar that echoed not for miles, not for hundreds of miles, but so far and so loudly that the firmament above shook with the sound. Blood cascaded from Armok's horrendous form, a torrent of foaming brine.
Uthmic cowered on the raft of scab.
In a voice like a hundred masterwork steel blades hitting the necks of innocent children, Armok spake:
"Yyyyooooooou Aaaaaare Noought Yyyyeeet Spaaaared, Insignificant Triiiifle. Yyet Yyyyooou Aaare Noought Yyyyeeet Daaaammmnnneedd. Ssspppeeeaaakkk Yyyoour Caaaauuuuussseeee ffoooorrr Seeeeeaaakkkiiing Mmmmmeeeeeee.
"I am but nothing before your wrath and your benevolence, almighty hammerer of fate. I will tell you only the truth-"
A thousand red-hot axe heads where quenched in the guts of unrepentant rebels.
"Doooooo Nooooot Diiiiiieenn Toooo Telllll Meeeee Ooooofff Trruuuuuuuthhhhhhh. Iiiii Knoooww Allll, Iiiiiii Seeee Allll. Tellll Meeee Whaaaaaaaaat Yoooooou Thooouuughhht. Shhhooooowww Meeeee Yoooour Miiiiinnnndd.
"Oh terrible temper of will, I shall. I, King Uthmic Boatrings of the Crafted Iron, am- was- the last of the fortress Thunderwall. Myself, the high priest, the hammerer and the hero Sunderinks where sealed in the secret temple, and outside, roaming the once-safe halls, was the army of the Goblins of the Volcanic Hate. There was no escape.
"On that fateful hour, we did the only thing we could. Rather than starve in safety, we partook of the Crimson Death- the rare poisonous fungus from the deepest caves that would lead to an inevitable death within minutes. Each of us drank a drought of the finest ale, made heady with the Crimson Death.
"Then the four of us took up arms and surged forth out of the secret doors and fought the goblin invaders.
"The Crimson Death speeds the heart and mind and turns the muscles to iron. Each of us fought like gods and took down tens, hundreds of the goblins- yet they still came. Black-red goblin blood washed the corridors. I felt the fury of the Crimson Death leave me, and felt my heart slow, but still I fought on. The chain mail I wore was slashed, my silk robes in shreds. My very flesh being cut to ribbons. The pain filled my vision, my world. And then, the waves of goblins parted, and before me stood Croktimgrak, leader of the goblin invasion. He stepped before me as I nearly collapsed from exhaustion. I propped myself against my sword in the light of guttering torches of the dwarf-hewn halls.
"He motioned the other goblins away. He had decided to finish me off personally.
"I deigned not to die on my knees, not by this goblin's hand. Already my hands where shaking, my vision blurring. I saw none of the cavern anymore- only of a thousand years of darkness. I saw every dwarf hall falling to the unstoppable onslaught of the goblins. Thunderwall was the greatest dwarven hall of the Crafted Iron, of the world, and it had fallen.
"Instead of seeing this goblin destroy the glory of Dwarfkind, and instead of being slaughtered instead of falling in combat, I threw down my pitted and scarred sword and drew up my dagger- this very dagger here.
"'For the Bones of the Mountain!' I cried, and slit my throat, departing from the world of the living.
Uthmic gazed up at the maw of Armok, the eternal wound. Throughout the telling of his story, the God had gazed upon him impassively.
"And now, I beg- I plead- for you, greatest of gods to grant me a boon. Tell me that there shall come a time in the future that dwarves will not live under the boot and claw of Goblins. Tell me that my kind will not forever suffer this doom!
There was a long moment.
The sea churned and a deep rumble shook the raft, the air, and the firmament above. Armok's towering sinuous trunk itself trembled.
Armok Laughed.
It laughed like the rending of steel.
It laughed like the fall of titans.
It laughed like the breaking of the bones of mountains.
"Yyyyyyyooouu Eeeenntertaaaiiinnnnn Meeeeee, Puuunnny Onnnneee. Yyyyoooouuu Wwwiilllll Ssssseeeeee Yyyyooooouuurrrr Laaaaassstttt Ssssstttaannnnddd. Yyoooouuu Willlll Ssseeeeee Wwwwhhhaattt Iiiiisss Thhhhhheeeee Waaaageeee Oooooofff Heeeeroooooooeeeeess.
******
Croktimgrak's crusted iron boots trudged through the pools on the floor. Black-red goblin blood. Red Dwarven blood. He kicked the corpse of the Dwarven king and it sprawled along the floor, in the gore. The dagger fell to the floor, spattering blood.
"Their King would rather kill himself than face me in combat! These are truly pitiful creatures. We march out tonight to crush the rest of this pitiful creed!"
The corpse gurgled. Blood flowed.
"Our troops need rest after this battle, lord. Let us fortify-"
"I will decide when we shall rest! Our forces are still strong. We stay here only long enough... to eat."
King Uthmic let out a hoarse groan, and stirred.
"What is this!?"
The Dwarven King arose, his wounds still bleeding.
He lifted his arm and reached for the Goblin Warlord. He opened his mouth in a moan, and blood streamed out. From every cut, from his eyes, from his nose, blood poured.
Uthmic Boatring became a pillar of blood, and approached the goblin high command.
******
Uthmic again stood on the raft, the titanic bulk of Armok, an endlessly tall spire of bleeding fangs and flesh, with a maw enough to consume entire armies, and he knew his job was done.
As Uthmic left the realm of Armok, to go unto the home of his ancestors, his living blood now residing the the seas of Armok, he said;
"I have been honored above any hope of my clan, Oh mighty Blood God. To have been your servant, to have seen your true form, has marked me above perhaps any other mortal."
A hundred thousand obsidian blades on crude altars struck out sacrifices, as Armok said:
"Yyooouu Arrreee Rrriiighhht Toooo Ssssaaayyyyy Thhhhatttt Yoooouu Aaarree Graaannnttteeeeddd Aaaaa Rrrraaarrreee Boooonnn Iiinnnnddeeeeddd, Buutttttt Knooowwwww Tthhhhhhisssssss: Ttttthhhiiiiissss Fffooooorrrrrmmmm Iiiiissssss Bbbbuuuut Aaa Fffillllaaammennnnttt Ooooffff Mmmyyyyyyy Ttttttrrrruuuueeeee Ffffffooooorrrrmmmmm.
******
Little is known of what happened deep in the halls of Thunderwall- only that only three blood-soaked goblins where ever found alive, and each of those in total catatonia. The goblin armies that had not invaded Thunderwall where broken without their leader, and the vengeful Human, Elven, and Dwarven forces crushed them, scattering them to the winds. The remains of the Dwarven king where found, sword in one hand, dagger in the other, surrounded in the mutilated corpses of goblins, in a chamber knee-deep in blood, spores of the Crimson Death the only sign of injury upon him.
Also, everyone knows that Kobolds are Armok's favored beings. It's just that Armok's idea of a reward is an opprotunity to prove oneself a hero.
That said, blood is not death, it is life. When you have lots of blood, you are alive; when you have no blood at all, you tend to be dead. Passion of any kind "stirs the blood", and kinship and friendship can be ties made in it. Even the beginning of life is firmly rooted in blood.
Nearly every action made by animals is connected to blood, be it base or saintly. While in my example story, Uthmic is a hero granted a boon so that he may live on in legend as a reward for his magnificent courage and prowress, Armok does not like heroes... he like conflict between heroes and villains. Much like how you or I would not much enjoy a game that merely revolved around Gorden Freeman walking around in a lab coat on a normal day.
And, in the same way that we keep on getting Gorden to push that sample into that Anti-mass-spectrometer because we like the conflict, Armok will be the one to which evil blood sacrifices are made.
The only way we can tell that Armok might be on our side is this; Good often triumphs over evil.
On the other hand, just how often does that evil nazi mastermind or undead lich or alien overlord or giant flaming eye come back to haunt us again?
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Topic: Armok (Read 2004 times)