The second of my fictional shorts, introducing eventual protagonists for the boys game.
Nawg Mokjm frowned, while casually backhanding the goblin messenger across the tent. Of course he had come to tell him that more of the damned Western knights were coming into the mountains. Bad news, that was all he had heard since assuming the role of tribal leader of his tribe. A role with even more significance as his tribe was still the largest Orc tribe here in the mountains. It almost made the memory of crushing his father’s skull with his ax less pleasant, an act that had given him his present position.
Then he heard a commotion outside the tent, some squealing, and then one of his guards stuck his head in.
“Anudder Gobby scout boss, this one claims da Eastern haze is gone.”
“What!? Throw his lying carcass in here to explain.”
“Sure ting boss.”
The little goblin came flying in, landing on it’s head with a soft crunch. Then it rolled over, whimpered and then slowly came to it’s knees.
“What do you mean the Eastern haze is gone? Explain yourself!”
“I… it is gone sire, see me and my brothers was out looking for food, food for the tribe of course, and we got to where the Haze is and it was gone. I pushed a few brothers across the line to be sure, and they lived, said they dinnt feel nuffink.”
Nawg rose from his chair, kicked the goblin aside, grabbed his ax and strode from his tent.
“Follow me, and bring that gobby, so if he’s lying I can make sure he suffers!” he thundered.
Nawg and his guard followed the trail east over the hill to the line where they normally would have stopped. For all of their memories and stories there was the Easter Haze. A line of clouds that came down to the ground, and from which no one, no Orc, no goblin, no worg, nothing ever returned. In all of the tribes stories that line had kept them from venturing East. A sad limitation when the damned knights of the west kept pressing with their farmers.
When he got to the valley floor where the haze normally was he saw that the goblin was right, it was gone. He could see clear across, and a rich valley lay spread out to the east. He grabbed the goblin by the scruff of it’s neck, wound up and tossed him as far as he could. Nawg having been the goblin throwing champion of the tribe, that was a long ways. The goblin screamed as he flew, and landed with a satisfying crunch.
But the goblin got up, rubbed it’s head and then jumped up and down.
“See, I ain’t hurt, I can see you, it is safe just like I said!”
Nawg slowly stepped over what was clearly the line where the haze once stood. Nothing happened, he took a few more steps, still nothing. He heard animals making sounds, birds chirping, saw a deer grazing up the hillside. He wound up and threw his ax, killing the deer with a soft thunk. And he began to laugh, then howled. No more would the Orcs have to survive on the fringes of the western kingdoms. No more having to eat the occasional goblin when meat was scarce. And most importantly finally a place for the Orcs to roam and plunder.