The Splintered Skull

Ruins of the Dwarven Halls

Naaruz the Witherer surveyed what had been the throne room of the dwarf clan that had dwelled in this place once, long ago.  She did not know the clan's name, nor did she care.  Her father had led the horde that had overwhelmed the bearded vermin when she was but a useless and disfavored whelp.

Naaruz had been small for a half-orc pup.  She favored the human strain in her people's blood too closely, and she had paid for it as a child with beatings and abuse.  But such treatment had only sharpened her cunning and will to survive.

When her sorcery first manifested in puberty, the abuses stopped immediately after a particularly violent incident.  In her hatred and misery, she had lashed out with searing missiles of eldritch force at the two other whelps that were beating her that day.  They died instantly.

On that day, she became her father's seer.  She was given food to eat, and did not need to steal it anymore.  She was given access to the dwarves' library, and did not need to shovel worg shit anymore.  Where once she had been just another dog beneath the orc chief's contempt, on that day she was given a place at the fire.

Naaruz the Witherer

As she reminisced, the others began to file randomly into the chamber.  One by one they came-- Black Kazok, the master of scouts.

Black Kazok, Master of Scouts

The churlish hulk known solely by the syllable 'Brog,'  who lived only to eat, drink, rut and kill, sometimes all at once.

Brog

The room continued to fill until each of the subchiefs of the Splintered Skull had come.

Last of all to enter was the great chief himself, her own father.

Uraak the Reaper

Uraak the Reaper had been born to be a war chief.  A natural leader and fighter, he had gathered his people from the fens and hills where they eked out a meager living in the shadow of the hated elves and dwarves and led them against the mountain clans, crushing  the wretched scum beneath his boot heel, and claiming their realm as his own.

When all were at last assembled, she was called upon to report the news of the war on the Valinesti.

"The elves are driven before us and we have carved a path through their lands, drowning the earth with their blood," she nearly hissed before the throng.

The chamber erupted in primal screams of rage and bloodlust, only to be quieted by the roar of their chief.

"Where is the body of their chief, Witherer?" the massive half-orc demanded of his offspring. "Where is the Two-Hands?"

"The last of the elves have retreated to their grotto fortress," she replied, feeling the hatred well up inside her.  "I leave presently to marshal the colossus through their gates to devour them whole.  It will be my pleasure to give you whatever remains!"

With her report complete, the half-orc sorceress turned and left the hall, which had once again erupted into thundering madness.  As she went, Kazok and Brog fell in behind her.

Visions of slaughter danced in Naaruz' head, and of the plunder and glory to be had.  She could not help but smile to herself in the darkness.