The Golgarothiad: Chapter I: The Crossing of the Black-Stone Wastelands
Tusks before men!
To the Lady Apricania,
As you have asked, here is the translation, the first of the great scholar and sorcerer Mahldor Bloodthorne’s monumental ‘Histories of Golgaroth and Dawn of Korax’. While there is an epic poem of his (composed in Ogrish), I felt it best to translate his histories first rather than his poetic works. For the one is easier than the latter. While many of his mannerisms are crude, being that they come from a bygone age and from a barbarous people, such as the Ogres. I have enjoyed his works, a great deal. For it is possible to find greatness and worthy examples, of nobility of character in the tale of Golgaroth, as it is in that of Dolthorian. The previous great power that, dominated Aechea; if for a number of centuries, though in the former’s case it was but after half a millennia.
Golgaroth, was a far different state to Dolthorian, which was truly every bit as Aechean and Elven in its culture, poetry, law and architecture. Both intermingling together, while the Ogre state certainly absorbed some of these elements, it remained resolutely Ogrish in nature. A nature that, has garnered it little love over the centuries, as it has been regarded by all non-Koraxians as an aberration.
This however would be a false assumption, one that Mahldor well-knew, and sought to strive against the abyss that lay before, all scholars of the latter of the two great kingdoms. Truly though, he understood better than most, the great tragedy that was, the downfall of Golgaroth. With this being, one of Heracles’s greatest crimes, committed though as much to liberate Aechea of the Ogres, as it was to safeguard his son, Agron’s heritage as king of Kisitain. For his crimes, Heracles was banished by the very ministers, who forced him into the war, once his wife, their Queen Omphale died. This according it is said, to the wishes of Hera who had no great desire, to see him go unpunished for destroying Golgaroth, or settle into a happy life, with Agron. The only one of the Heraclideian dynasties, to have inherited the founder’s great strength, outside Hellias, who like Agron suffered monstrously. As is always the case of great men, with the same, it could be said of great states, as we have seen with Dolthorian and Golgaroth. And as all hope, will not prove to be the case for Roma.
Therefore, long live the Res Publica domina, and long life to thy family and line also, divine in nature and divine in accomplishments as it is.
Ever thy faithful ally, friend and servitor,
Servius Lavinius Maior
Mahldor’s Notes
It has taken me the better part, of thirty-five years of study, of exploration and of constant visits to the poets (such as they are) of Doris, and the libraries of the great Tower of Sorcery, of Mavréol. None have studied the great kingdom, of the great days of yore quite as much as I, nor did they study in as great depth the history of the ‘Great Golgréan Wars’.
Founded during the second war, by Vauhúr Balmoriän, the greatest of all Ogre chieftains of the second of the ancient wars, Golgaroth ‘Golgroc’s Rock’ at once surpassed the glory of Dolthorian. The puny human-Elven kingdom, established by the near-god Pelagius the ‘Wise’ as the humans hath come to know him, believing him to be the greatest of all ancient Aecheans. That he alone, carries with him, the great wisdom of the gods, along with his wise son, Phaedrus the Magnificent. Both of them great kings in their own right, if in the case of the latter, an infinitely more tragic one. In many ways, the kings of Golgaroth were not all dissimilar to these humans, notably Imlasvrin the Betrayed. The King who held too strongly, to his ties of kinship to his brothers, and his terrible sister Halaina the Adulterous, who betrayed her husband also, in the pursuit of Agreus: The great general who burnt the cities of Voreil, Mykodalnia and Dalkaïth to the ground, before uniting his forces with those of her brothers, and Heracles against to ravage the great city itself.
Yet not all seem’d at one time fixed in stone, the fate of Golgaroth and the sons of Golgroc might not have come to naught, had they but a bit more wisdom. If honour had been held up, as highly as we Bloodthornes value it, all might have ended without tragedy.
I
Golgaroth. The finest kingdom of ancient Aechea that e’er lived: Full of the greatest builders, sword-arms, shamans and traders imaginable, also the first to defy Zeus, and his tyranny. It was built upon the bones of the many a tribesmen, in the valley of Mávréné, or as we called it in that time, Kulgrath. Ruling o’er the Dwarven colonies of that area (as was our right), and o’er the north of the first Aechean kingdoms, stretching as far south as the north of the lands of Kharaxos, to the shame of the humans.
The first tribes that arrived in that pitiful region came from across the Vórérimos desert. The ancestors of the Ogres, were conceived of, far to the east (likely where the Elves originate from also), said to have been created by, the great demon Mauglian, who was himself the wisest of the Vathruthian tribe of demons.
Mauglian was said to have looked upon the mortal realm, with amazement. At first like the rest of his monstrous tribe, he gazed upon the Elves, Dwarves and humans with disgust. Unable to comprehend, quite why the gods were so obsessed with such pitiful, short-lived creatures, with the wise-man it is said, hardly keen to repeat the experience. Were it not for the peculiar one-eyed god, Auðun lord of many a men of the north, he likely ne’er would have dabbled in creation. Arriving before the Vathruthians, with his two brothers in tow, Auðun had heard that these kinsmen of Vathruthnir the Giant and friend of Auðun, possessed some sort of game to test wisdom. Keen to try his hand at the game, the wealth-god tested his own wit, against them only to win upon his first attempt, though the rules were not explained. Only what he could not do, was explained. Angered by this defeat, Mauglian and his sons, Bauglin and Balvian challenged the god’s two brothers. When they lost, the Vathrutians were bewildered and enraged, with Auðun claiming the game as his booty, to give to mortal-men.
Outraged, Mauglian demanded of him, to know how he could possibly have won, and why give this hard-fought for game to mortals? The response, was apocryphal; “I give all unto them, wherefore it is wise and as to why I favour them? They fascinate, and are as children, not that you lot will understand.”
This could not possibly be the end of the matter, now that he was intrigued, Mauglian began to espy upon the mortal realm, in his local river, in Jotunveimr (the realm of the demons). The magical river that had, long been treasured by the Vathrutians revealed to him, the dawn of the Dwarven kingdoms. Watching o’er the dawn of this ancient age, for generations he studied the mortals, the gifts given unto them by the gods, with Mauglian’s pride pricked.
Fascinated as he had become, he swore to himself he could do better, wherefore he seized dirt from near the river to begin moulding it into shape. Working long into the night, he concluded his first mortal only to huff in dissatisfaction, he then tossed it aside indifferently. This first rejected mortal, not yet given the breath of life, was picked up by his son, Balvian who attempted to comfort his father; claiming that it was a good first effort. This hardly pleased him, with the demon-father snarling at his son, only to throw himself once more into his efforts.
His next effort still yielded no great success, and this time he tossed it aside for Bauglin to find it, and mock his efforts. It was then that, they sent for the three brothers to ask of them, how they had done their great acts of creation. Auðun’s brother informed them, it was Prometheus who had created man, and to ask him. The Titan, genial and warm to them in spite of his being chained to a mountain, gave away the secrets, and advised them to seek out his friend, the third brother of Auðun for his hammer.
Doing so, they brought the third god to see Mauglian, along with the hammer, with the Vathruthian thanking his sons, before he used the hammer upon the clay Auðun’s brother present to him. Heated in a fire of their creation, and mixed with magic water of the river, they forged the first Ogre. So proud was he of our first ancestor, was the great demon that he spat in the direction of his old creations, and this was how the first Goblin was created. Formed by the spit of Mauglian the Forger, where the third brother took up the first two creations and bemused, formed wings upon the first. Then he took from a vial, the air of life and slipped it into the first Gargan and Goblin, with the second of the creations accidentally getting a whiff, and thus were Bairazes created.
They were all imperfect, with only Ogres being perfect children formed by Mauglian, in the light of day and given the full air of life, alongside Gargans. The other two took accidental whiffs some say (though there is conflict o’er Goblins but ne’er mind, it is hardly important). With the first Ogres set into the mortal realm, with special permission granted by Auðun, in a place called ‘Mivdarth’, to the south-west of the Elf-lands, with much of the grassy plains to be given o’er to them.
Pleased by his act of creation, and full of joy the Vathruthians, agreed to serve Auðun in the future, and to make more for his realm now that they knew how to create. Renouncing the darkness of their brother-Jotuns, they swore to become proper gods. They were however thwarted, by Lokrinn, the enemy of Auðun. Lokrinn despised creation, despised men and hated that the Vathruthians had sworn to make Ogres and men brothers, and despised Mauglian’s idealism. Therefore, he besought to destroy the bond between Auðun’s folk and Vathruths.
How he did so is a mystery, what is known is that he dried up the magic river, with terrible flames, destroyed their food and drove them so utterly mad they turned upon themselves and one another. It is also said that, he slipped them the blood of Hela the Dark-Queen, which is said to drive even gods mad. With their first beloved sons, nearly destroyed by them, were it not for the protection of the third brother of Auðun, who was thus named by the first Ogres ‘Golgroc’ or ‘Stone-friend’. For it was by clay and stone that the first Ogres were made, and not a one forgot this, with the first four Ogres made, having each a dozen sons and daughters, who then had a dozen children each.
It is from each of these sons and daughters that there arose each of the thousands of tribes of Ogres, each of whom had been given a different name by the Vathruthians. Yet the most sacred, were those given names by Auðun and Golgroc. Both whom blessed Ogres, with a formidable destiny.
Without gods, at least not ones taking a special interest in them, the ancestors of the Ogres fell prey to the worship of demons, most of whom the names have been forgotten. It is a shameful fact of our people’s history, and yet a crucial one.
It is this first age of the Ogres that, led our people to seek conflict with the Dwarves, as the then united tribes were directed against the miniscule Dwarves. At first they won the wars, then centuries later, we won the wars and smashed their pitiful empire to pieces, yet we were assailed by the High Elves, and their human allies, to be forced across the Makrýérimos. This happened millennia ago, with the war between the Elves, and our ancestors lasting for near to two centuries. Afterwards, the humans hounded us, outstripping the Ogres by ten times their numbers, with the humans determined to destroy them one and all.
It was at this time that the warrior Golvren, one of the finest warriors of the Ebonstones line e’er born. Noble, fierce and valiant it was he, who had slain the Elf-prince Vilandril Gold-Sword, in the fields of Belaras, and he in the face of the despair of his people after the defeat near the mountains of Malgas. “If they wish to make us choose, between their swords and magicks, and gods, and the heat of the western desert, we will not only triumph o’er it. We will return, in full vengeance, with all the wroth of our gods and hatred upon our return! And let it not be said that, those Goblins who ventured west, were braver, more valiant than we; the true sons of Mauglian!”
So it was that the Ogres departed across the desert, convinced they were the chosen people of Mauglian, and the ‘Sons of the Suns’, appointed so of a great ‘Destined Land’ across the Makrýérimos Wastes as it was then known. If only, they knew what awaited...
The crossing of the desert, took nigh on fifty years. It was a terrible epoch in our race’s history. The shamans of the tribes struggled to turn some of the desert sands into water, or to help find water where possible. Food was also a concern, with the tribesmen crying out oft and repeatedly, for food, for meat. As our stomachs cannot endure the pitiful grass and fruits of lesser races, thus we struggled truly in the desert.
Golvren once a bluff warrior, thinned into a skeleton after fifty days in the desert, reduced to womanish blubbery just as the rest of them were. It was terrible, yet still onwards didst they trek. Not a one immune to the pain, the sorrow and misery of the desert. As they progressed, thousands of corpses were left behind, especially those of children and elders.
So great was the near genocide of the Ogres that, many late one night considered turning back, or falling upon one another, to cut their miseries short. At least, if they did so they would die with honour. And yet the last words of Kalavandan Starblade echoed in the ears of all the Ogres (his words from the great war against the Elves); “Know that as you have no true gods to bless you, thou art damned, oh beasts. For only those of and faithful, to the gods be permitted into their great halls, to enjoy their mead, wine and meat!”
Disturbed and frightened, the chieftains fell to weeping. In such a state, they turned to their shamans who were themselves, full of sorrow. That is until one, the mighty Yeongrrun the Howler or Yeongrrun One-Leg (for he had lost his right foot in the wars), shouted abuse upon them for their blubbery, claiming, “Cease this womanish self-pity at once! You are the chieftains of the great tribes chosen by the Vathruthians, to bear their likeness and good names to all the corners of Legrendraia, and thou favour tears o’er actions?! Down with ye and remember; thy noble ancestors and the state of thy women and children, who depend upon thou for strength!”
His words so shamed them that they wiped their eyes free of the tears, some though were angry and growled back that, was it not Yeongrrun who had wept and screamed in pain at the loss of his foot? Was it not he, who had hidden e’er afterwards from battle, and become a shaman in place of being a warrior, rather than charging headlong into the enemy ranks to die with dignity and honour? Therefore, who was he to criticize them?
“Aye, I be a cripple, yet least I hath not shed tears and blubbered at such a time, let us now turn to the gods.” Said he, full of manly vigour and piety, “For we hath nowhere else to turn.”
“Yet, which god?” Asked they, full of despair to which he had a ready answer.
Golgroc the Creator. He who was known to all, as ‘Drago-Father’, or Breath-Giver amongst the various Ogres, who prayed mighty prayers to him, offering up what little food they had left, in grand pyres to try to reach him.
Taking pity upon them, just as he once did with Mauglian, Golgroc answered their prayers at once. Sending down, giant vultures carrying barrels of beer and water, to offer them sustenance in the shade of a mountain known as Kilnaï, to the utter delight of all the tribes, he then also convinced Kcura Rain-Bringer to send down rain. Cooled under the cool water, with so much meat that all had their fill, and then some, with the many tribesmen thanking Yeongrrun who turned their thanks to Golgroc.
Grateful to him, they held strong to their faith in him. It was this pious faith that most annoyed Lokrinn the Envious, who complained to himself about the love given, to the youngest of the three creator gods by the Ogres. Determined to reverse it, he snuck into the camp, disguised as a thin Ogre, who at the next feeding, ten months after the first, to decry the food given.
At first his words had no impact, yet as he slipped nearer to Vuklarr the Stupid as he has come to be known in our oral histories. Whispering to the Ogre chieftain of the Demontongues as the tribe became known, he whispered that Yeongrrun had turned all the tribes upon the chiefs, and seized power for himself.
Angered by this, the more he thought about it, Vuklarr mulled o’er his words, and in time agreed to call a secret meeting of the chieftains without Yeongrrun to speak out against, Golgroc. This done, they were then encouraged by Lokrinn to call upon Golgroc to send them more than simple vulture-meat and beer, and to simply transport them at once from the desert. When he refused, saying he could not, Golvren complained bitterly.
“Of course, you ne’er cared for us, if you refuse to guide us away.” He complained, the most important man convinced by Lokrinn to turn against Golgroc.
The god remained silent, and it was not until Yeongrrun called out in defence of his god, for which he was told to be quiet with Lokrinn yelling out, “Then reveal, yourself to us. Trust in us, your personal fate as we did to you, in the Great War.”
As the other Ogres began to cry out, encouragement to see the god in as true a form as he could muster before them. With a great sigh that shook all the land of the wastes, Golgroc revealed himself, in all his ignominy before them.
His powers had been taken from him, when his great-dragons were sealed away, it is said. This had been inflicted, because the gods had no faith in him, no love and wished to punish and keep him from freeing his dragons at once. Thereafter, he had been left in all his forms in that of a child, with the Ogres all jeering and sneering to see their creator be revealed to be little more than a pathetic Elven child in shape and form.
His face scarlet with humiliation, Golgroc defended himself claiming that, they ought to cease their laughter and thank him. Throwing food and beer upon him, that which they had saved up, they humiliated the great god, who his great pride wounded near destroyed them then.
No storm god, or desert lord, all the land shook as the heavens stormed and thundered, as he near gave into his wroth.
Horrified by the actions of his people, Yeongrrun attempted to intercede in favour of both sides, appeasing Golgroc enough not to wipe the Ogres out and remonstrating his people. Jeering him too now, they called him a false prophet, and threw stones at him. Still, the steadfast shaman held his ground.
For this act of his, he was to walk to the rear of the tribes, with the women and children, and not to ride upon their caravans. Stoic in the face, of such a humiliation he acquiesced, only to enrage his fellow shamans and chiefs, by proselytizing the faith of Golgroc amongst, the women and children.
“What can we do, with Yeongrrun?” Asked Vuklarr in great fury days later, after the shaman in question, had been caught singing the songs of Golgroc and spreading his faith, amongst the children, against the wishes of the chiefs.
Lokrinn had a ready answer, suggested they put it to a grand vote amongst the chiefs, shamans and warriors. When they did so, it was found that the clan of the Goldtusks alone remained faithful to Golgroc. For this, they were jeered, called the least of all the clans.
Infuriated by this rejection of his tribe, by the greater portion of the Ogres, including the women who watched to the rear of the assembly, Yeongrrun howled out as it was revealed to him, who it was who spoke out alongside Vuklarr. “How dare you! How dare you speak out, worm of the divine! Weakling trickster of demons, and enemy of our grand ancestors the Vathruthians, only a fool worthy of death and damnation to the blackest of halls of the damned of Tartarus, and Nifle wouldst cede to thy petty words! If thou wilt follow this worm, o brothers then it shalt be war e’erlasting after this date!”
Some of the Goldtusks were horrified by these passionate words of their shaman, still others pulled their weapons loose to give his words the steel they deserved. Amused, Lokrinn simply laughed and put the words into Vuklarr’s spirit that followed and damned the Ogres to thraldom for centuries. “You wouldst dare to break this assembly, with bronze?! Ye Goldtusk art not only a coward, but the very worst of all traitors here assembled!”
“Peace, peace brothers,” Laughed Lokrinn cleverly, as he played at the mediator, when he saw the weapons of the greater part of the Ogres pulled free also. “We shalt hath tough days ahead, why waste our strength upon one another?”
From that day forward, there was neither love nor trust, between the followers of Vuklarr the Stupid and Yeongrrun the Howler. Yeongrrun and his Goldtusks traveled apart from the rest, and were nourished and sustained by the gifts of Golgroc. Who returned, to shower his favour upon them, even as Golvren and his Ebonstone clan gradually, grew more disdainful of the return to blubbery of the others, and their pleas when they saw the fortune of the Goldtusks, for some food and drink, pleading for the forgiveness of Golgroc, he declared Lokrinn and Vuklarr his foes, before that great god.
Approving of this, the great god spake to him, “Ye shalt be favoured o Golvren, for thy humility and taking up of mine enemies for thy own, and my Goldtusks as thy own people. Just as Yeongrrun shalt one day have all the wealth far to the west, of all those here present, thy sons shalt have all the glory, the honour and wealth of all the lands ye shalt see upon departing this thrice be-damn’d desert.”
Such were the power of Golgroc’s words that, all present knelt before him in prayer, and gave great thanks, to him for his mercy and promises. Then he vanished, the wind carrying him off from the mortal realm, which he had given so much unto.
Glorying as they did, the exultation of the Goldtusks and the Ebonstones was short-lived. By the end of the month, they discovered the true treachery of Lokrinn the Liar. As they advanced in two miserable groups, with a league apart from one another, with Yeongrrun the first to exclaim that they had begun to turn about.
Accusing him of deception, the other tribes attempted to tush him, if unsuccessfully for he crossed the league and called for them, all to continue venturing straight. The desert had to end soon, he argued vehemently to the irritation and fury of his fellows.
Vuklarr the Stupid, infuriated called him a liar, and ordered his people to continue to follow him, with Lokrinn assenting to his words.
In the days that followed they did not realise it, but they had turned north, and so it was for days until it became evident that they had no food to eat. Save that given by Golgroc to the Goldtusks and Ebonstones. Envious, those who had once rejected, the great Breath-Giver wept and debated amongst themselves of what to do.
The answer came as e’er from Vuklarr’s vulgar red-skinned lips, as he hefted his mighty bronze-battle axe. “We shalt take what is ours by right, and whenever or wherever Golgroc the Child feeds them, we shalt take his gifts from them.”
This seemed a good plan. They even executed it perfectly, striking against the ‘Faithful of Golgroc’ as they called them now, with a fury rarely seen before or since, in the dead of night. This has come down to us, as one of the ‘Three Great Treacheries’ of our people, it has also been called ‘Vuklarr’s Great Treachery’, as he unleashed kinslaying upon we the Ogres for the first time in our history. The blood of thousands were spill’d and for what? As the Treacherous drank the water, the beer and devoured the vulture meat they were dismayed to find the drink turn to ash, and the food into mud.
Shrieking that it was devilry and treachery, they wouldst have renewed their attack upon the Faithful, when a lone woman, Kyldra Iceclaw reminded all that it was Lokrinn who had called for this act. Who had encouraged them, to turn upon Golgroc and they likely would have foolishly attacked him then, wherefore he offered up a new solution to their problem.
“Come, come now my dear, dear subjects surely if a deity as weak, as pitiful as Golgroc may grant food and drink, why can demons not offer up the same? Hath they e’er fail’d thee before?” Too stupid to argue that it was precisely those insipid, cowardly scum who had failed the Ogres time and again, against the might of the humans, Dwarves and Elves, they conceded this point.
It was thusly that they turned to Lokrinn’s Folk as we know them, for food and drink. That supplied was rotting, and despoiled, with many so disgusted they sought out Yeongrrun who sneered at them, until Golvren reminded him of how they were all kin. Reluctantly, he agreed to allow any who regretted to enjoy the blessings of Golgroc.
Infuriated by the great number who had turned away from them, Vuklarr invited Yeongrrun to a meeting of the tribes, whereupon his arrival he boasted long and loudly, of the superiority of his god. Of the pathetic nature, of the demons who watched now o’er the tribes and who grew hot with anger, at his blandishing of their honour (such as it is), and his jeers towards Lokrinn, who gave a single nod of his head to Vuklarr, his followers and his sons.
Thereon the yellow stone of Vulkarr thereafter known amongst the Ogres as the Pillar of Cowardice, that Yeongrrun met his terrible end. His brains dashed, as he bellowed his defiance almost madly, against those who had poisoned his people. His was a disgraceful killing, one that cemented the fate of the tribes, to wander the Wastes for the next forty-nine years.
Damning them so, with a voice that shook the land, Golgroc vowed that only when Yeongrrun’s blood was repaid in full, would they be free from the desert. At first, the Treacherous of Vuklarr roared in defiance, yet when they felt the heat for three months of the desert, they wailed for mercy. For it was hotter than before, wherever they walked, their half-rotted food typically rotted in away in minutes, and drink vanished in the suns-heat.
As to the Faithful, aware then of the terrible fate that had befallen their shaman, they turned to Golvren for leadership. Not possessing the Howler’s desire to humiliate, the Treacherous and still thinking them kin, he remained only to bury Yeongrrun and offer up prayers for his soul. Before, he led his people away, with rain and coolness trailing after them, as they wandered leagues behind their fellows.
This was how the foolish sons, of the valorous warriors of the Eastern Wars of the sons of Mauglian, wasted away fifty years, of their lives, in the desert. Quite what they endured, in those years was unimaginable, yet just. For was it not they, who had turned away from Golgroc, and his mercy? Sneered at him? And murdered his prophet?
Aye, it was well-merited, many art the songs of those years, some melancholic and joyous (those of the Faithful), whilst most art pitiful and self-pitying (those of the Treacherous).
There were four more battles in the desert; one in the fifth year for food, with the Demontongues attempting to take possession of a den of snakes that they wished to cook, from the Iceclaws. Who in turn, fought them off before they were tricked by Vuklarr’s son, Yklain the Sneaky; who distracted them with an o’er long speech, while his father’s people stole the snakes from the cavern, behind them. Cooking the snakes swiftly, the Demontongues glutted themselves upon the snakes, after they had cooked them, not sharing a single bite with their fellows. When the others questioned, after the Iceclaws furiously queried after their desired snakes, they denied it all and accused the Iceclaws of turning all against the Demontongues.
This trick, led to a battle two years later, as the Iceclaws and their favourites sought to revenge themselves. Seizing Yklain, they slew him in the dead of night, with Vuklarr so outraged when Lokrinn told him the truth, he ordered all against the Iceclaws. If it were not for Ikarr the Mediator, a friend of both tribes and their princes, matters may have ended for the worst, he successfully negotiated a cessation to violence. Whereby the Demontongues, repaid the Iceclaws back in food rations: While the latter paid for the wergild of Yklain in their most prized weapons and trophies from the Eastern Wars.
The third battle was after thirty years in the desert, o’er an oasis claimed by the Treacherous, from the meek Faithful, still under Golvren’s leadership. The last followed soon after, they were chased away as the son of Yeongrrun, Vydarok, swore a furious blood-oath to bring his father’s killers to justice.
Taking a group of Goldtusks with him, he led them in the middle of the night to find and slay all the sons of Vuklarr. Slaying every guard they came across, without any hint of subtlety, they thence cut apart three of Vuklarr’s sons, Lulkar, Edgrith and Dullkan. The latter two were cut down, after the tribe had been awoken by the screams of Vuklarr, and furious they leapt out, axes in hand and were slain by Vydarok himself.
What ensued was the bloodiest of the battles in the Makrýérimos Wastes. This time, the entirety, of the tribe of Vuklarr were wiped out, as were most of Vydarok’s companions. Forced to retreat, after their leader was injured the Goldtusks, returned to their brothers to rally them against the Treacherous, convinced of the justice of their cause.
Anxious to prevent more spilling of fraternal blood, Golvren objected to this, and dissuaded the majority from following Vydarok. Who enraged, at the cowardice of his father’s old friend, bellowed for all to hear, “Now we see the ‘bravery’ and ‘honour’ of the Ebonstones, and just how my father met an ignominious end. Mark these words and mark them well, Golvren Lackcourage; defend the traitors again, and ye shalt not leave this desert also.”
Shaken by the menace in the young Ogre’s voice, it is said many wished to fight amongst the Faithful, were it not for a strike of lightning that struck near the chieftains. The message from Golgroc was clear; no more kinslaying.
Turning away from killing, the Faithful made for the west, along the sea to the south of it. This course was suggested by Yeongrrun’s successor as chief shaman, Andmurn, who had discovered the sea in the bladder of a vulture he carved open, for oracular truths before eating it. Finding it full of water, and whence it leaked to the left of him (for he faced west), he instructed all to travel south then west.
This was how they happened, upon the great mountain in the desert known Yerlvuh, wherefore they made camp. Encouraged to the peak of the great mountain, said to give command of the first sight, out of the Wastes, and into the eastern plains just north, of Aechea, the three leaders saw for the first time, the lands that awaited conquest.
It was revealed to them then, by a goddess they knew not then, was Dírtsaï the Glorious. The new mother of Ogres, the greatest of Ogre gods, she spake to the three; swearing that for his cowardice, for his abandonment of Yeongrrun, Golvren was meant to die a foot away from the green grass, of the plains. For his courage, Vydarok would found the first settlement and Andmurn build the first of Golgroc’s shrines and offer up the first sacrifice to the god.
Troubled by these revelations, the three returned from their campfire on the mount, to speak with their people. Hungry for life, not a one hesitated the next day, even Golvren grew excited to see once again proper land, proper greenery after thirty-seven years in the desert. Such was the mercy of Golgroc, that he spared the Faithful thirteen more years of suffering.
At the head of the united tribes of the Faithful, with the sea to the south of them (sea which had nourished them and fed them fish, for two years), they prepared to set foot upon proper green land, for the first time in decades. It was not to be for Golvren though.
Just as he prepared to set foot, upon the eastern plains, a great giant raven swept down from the sunny heavens. Sweeping down from the south, the raven carried off Golvren in its talons, who crying out, was swept away thousands of feet before he was returned to his wailing kin. Whence he returned, it was to be torn to pieces, so high didst the bird fly.
It was not only the Ebonstones who wept, but the Goldtusks. Yet none wailed louder, than Vydarok, who cried out, “Wherefore art we to turn? Where and whence shalt the sons of Mauglian find, such wisdom and fidelity again, now that noble, valiant Golvren is gone from us? He who was father to all, brother to men, lover to women and grandfather to children, o gods return our fine chieftain to us!”
There was no answer. All then turned to Andmurn for guidance. Seizing a vulture, he gutted it and discovered thanks to the bladder, and the tearing of the heart of the beast, what the gods wished of them. They were to elect fifty of the fairest sons of each great father and warrior of the tribe, and let them touch the grass first. When proper thanks had been given, and after the daughter of Golvren, the wife of bluff Vydarok had a proper death-poem sung.
The poem which she sung then, is a hymn passed down since from mother to child, as part of the oldest customs of Ogres.
“Long didst he fight,
Bolder than all under the light
Of the Suns, until long in tusk,
And until his sword didst rust,
Hot as flames wert his rage,
Against no foe didst it e’er abate,
And yet great was his tender
Touch, when he might grasp me,
Tightly without e’er
Bending a knee or hand, nor didst he flee
From tender-touches or kisses,
This was how we his woman didst know
Him, O! O Golvren, revered father,
How tightly we once clung to thou,
Go now, to golden halls and gilded chamber,
Life though at a glance void, and all loathe
To continue, dost in thy reflect’d glory glimmer
Still, now to the end of days,”
It is the oldest death-poem, and e’er since that moment, Ogres have sung death-poems at funerals. Just before funerary games and funerary-brawls are held. As is right and proper, it is said by all.
The first to cross out of the desert were thus children, followed by the women of Golvren and then the rest of the fine people of the Faithful. All of whom, gave great thanks to the gods, before they set out to find for themselves a place, to lay claim to.
I want to understand this so badly, but don't--for lack of education or intelligence I cannot tell. Please help. Write in simpler english?
Using the ogre point of view is certainly an interesting touch. I again like the interplay of the various myth systems. And the scholarly introduction to the "translation" is a very effective addition.