Chapter 3
On the other end of the river, flowing towards the next town which lay twenty days away on foot. The river's path took a dreadful turn as it cut through the thick, ominous forest, its waters seeping into a very old cave that ran deep into Mount Kalib. The mountain once believed to be blessed by a benevolent goddess, now carried a dark secret. Legends whispered of an ancient curse that befell the river Keil with the arrival of the goblin King. The goblin King's presence had corrupted the river, turning it into a conduit of malevolence. Its waters carried a dark energy that fed the horrors lurking within the cave.
Deep within the treacherous depths of Mount Kalib, a labyrinth of tunnels stretches out like the veins of a monstrous beast. These tunnels, carved by the twisted hands of goblins, lead to a foreboding throne room, a place steeped in dark history and the remnants of an ancient reign. It is here that the Goblin King, Gorwo, once ruled with brutality for over four centuries and a half, his malevolence echoing through the shadowed halls.
But the tale of Gorwo's demise is etched in blood and terror. The previous King of Yosnad King Anton, a ruthless ruler, the sixth King of Yosnad came with an elite cadre of guards and waged a relentless war against the goblins. With each step they took, the ground trembled with the weight of their malice. Gorwo met his end at the hands of the King of Yosnad, his twisted body left to rot in the depths of the mountain. His head was taken as a trophy back to Castle Clovershire and there it was mounted for all to see until it has been fully eaten by crows.
However, the tale does not end there. In the wake of Gorwo's fall, the scattered remnants of goblins regrouped, slithering like shadows into the deepest recesses of Mount Kalib. Amidst their despair and desperation, a new leader emerged, driven by a thirst for revenge and a hunger for power.
This new King, a figure shrouded in darkness, ascended to a throne that was not rightfully his. His body transformed, grotesque horns sprouting from his skull, a crown of malevolence. The goblin King's mind expanded, surpassing the limitations of his kin, granting him knowledge and comprehension of the human tongue. No longer a mindless creature, he possessed an intellect that surpassed all the generations of goblin Kings before him.
His transformation did not end with his mind. His body became a twisted fusion of goblin and ogre, a horrifying amalgamation of strength and cunning. His once plump and feeble form now resembled a lean, sinewy warrior, his skin hardened to a sickly grey hue. This new Goblin King, this abomination named Zarku, became a force unlike anything seen before.
Zarku, fuelled by newfound intelligence, began to organize his goblin horde into ruthless squads, equipping them with lethal weapons forged in the depths of the mountain. His alliance with the mountain ogres, brought about by his ability to communicate with them, added further might to his ever-growing army. The once-scattered goblins multiplied under his rule, becoming an immense, fearsome force that sent shivers down the spines of all creatures unfortunate enough to dwell nearby.
The mountain itself groaned under the weight of Zarku's reign, its very essence tainted by the malevolence that permeated its tunnels. His sinister presence cast a perpetual shadow over the land, spreading a sense of dread and foreboding to all who ventured nearby. The legend of the Goblin King had been reborn, but this time, the darkness that surged within him was far more insidious and terrifying.
As whispers of his name echoed through the mountains, creatures of both light and darkness trembled, knowing that the rise of Zarku signaled a new era of horror and destruction. The goblin King's thirst for revenge would be quenched in blood, and the land would be forever scarred by his maleficent reign.
For three harrowing years, Zarku, the goblin King, had been amassing a sinister hoard of resources, meticulously forging them into weapons of terror and devastation. Every inch of his dark domain bore the mark of his cunning intellect, as strategy and battle formations were etched into the very fabric of his existence. His thirst for retribution was born from the festering wound of shame that gnawed at his twisted heart. Zarku had cowered in the face of Gorwo's demise, his trembling form blending seamlessly with the corpses that surrounded him. The memory of his cowardice seared his soul, and now he sought to wash away that shame with a river of blood—the blood of the King of Yosnad. In this macabre act, he would rise above his former self, ascending as the fearsome leader of the four monstrosities that haunted the dark realm surrounding Mount Kalib.
Feeling an unsettling mix of anticipation and anxiety as his goal drew near, Zarku summoned his trusted goblin commander. "How are the preparations coming along?" he bellowed, his voice laced with a sinister undertone. "The neck of Borosik awaits my blade, and I shall sever it with relentless fury." Zeeke, the wrathful commander of the first Goblin Corps, growled, "Sire, the wretched workers will finish their task in two weeks. The pitiful fools are on the verge of breaking through, and our battalions are mobilizing, eager to unleash their fury upon our enemies."
Zarku's eyes blazed with wrath, his voice dripping with venom. "Zeeke, there is no room for failure. Our plans must proceed without delay. Are you certain that those weaklings will complete their preparations in time?" Zeeke's chest swelled with defiant pride as he howled, "Your Majesty, I have gathered the most ruthless craftsmen and warriors in the realm. They toil under the whip of my command, their fear fuelling their unwavering dedication. I oversee their progress with an iron fist, and I guarantee their unyielding commitment. We will not falter." The King nodded. "Very well, Zeeke. I will place my trust in your abilities and the loyalty of our bloodthirsty troops. But mark my words, failure will be met with the harshest consequences. Our enemies are cunning and relentless, and we must be prepared to strike them down with merciless fury."
"My King, rest assured, our soldiers are forged in the crucible of torment. Their bodies ache with the scars of brutal training, their souls consumed by a thirst for vengeance. They will be ready to slaughter our foes without mercy. Our victory will be a savage symphony of bloodshed." Zeeke's voice reverberated with wrathful resolve. "Our soldiers are undergoing torturous training regimens. Their spirits are crushed and reshaped, their will broken and reforged. They will emerge as monstrous instruments of destruction, ready to crush any pathetic obstacles that stand in our path. Our triumph will be a cataclysm of wrath."
Zarku clenched his fists, his gaze burning into the commander. "Zeeke, your loyalty pleases me. This war will test the limits of our kingdom, but we shall revel in our enemies' suffering. May the gods tremble before our might." Zeeke bowed low, his voice laced with fierce devotion. "Thank you, Your Majesty. We shall unleash a storm of devastation upon our foes. With our unyielding allegiance and the wrath of the gods, victory will be a tempest of annihilation." And with that, the King and his vengeful commander turned their attention back to the preparations, and echoes of war drums filled the air, their thunderous beat a haunting reminder of the imminent chaos and destruction that awaited their enemies.
Zarku's footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridors as he made his way toward his secret treasure chamber. The air was heavy with a foreboding presence, unbeknownst to the rest of the goblins and not even his most trusted aids there was a dark secret behind Zarku's transformation into the goblin king—a secret that dripped with the essence of pure evil.
He had discovered the remnants of the previous goblin king in the mountain, and he was consumed by his primal sense. He ate what was left of the previous goblin king, devouring his rotten flesh and absorbing the last remnants of his wicked might before it vanished from this world. It had taken months, then years, and something start to take root deep within Zarku's goblin core, slowly corrupting his body and soul, twisting them into a grotesque abomination.
As Zarku reached the entrance to the chamber, the heavy iron door creaked open, releasing a gust of stale air that carried the stench of decay. The room was bathed in an eerie silver glow, emanating from a single source—a wickedly beautiful silver dagger standing proudly in the center. Its blade shimmered, reflecting a malevolent light that danced with shadows of ancient curses. Zarku's eyes widened with a mix of reverence and madness as he approached the dagger, his gnarled fingers trembling with a blend of anticipation and fear. His voice echoed through the chamber, distorted and filled with a sinister undertone.
"I had almost perished when I stumbled upon this unholy artifact beside the decaying corpse of the old king," he hissed, his voice a haunting whisper. With a hand trembling with both fear and anticipation, Zarku extended his fingers to grasp the hilt of the dagger. The moment his skin made contact with the chilling metal, a surge of malevolent energy surged through his veins, sending shivers down his spine. It was as if the blade itself had awoken, recognizing Zarku as its new master, a bearer of darkness.
In that harrowing moment, the malefic power of the dagger began to meld with Zarku's twisted goblin essence. It twisted and corrupted him further, seeping into his very being like a venomous poison. A wicked grin stretched across his face as he rejoiced in the newfound strength pulsating within him.
"Now that the blade has chosen me as its rightful heir. I am the embodiment of legends, destined to surpass all others in infamy." His eyes gleamed with malice as he plotted his next move. "Borosik," he growled, the name dripping with venomous hatred, "shall fall by my hand. I will tear his cursed power from his wretched grasp, absorbing it into my dark essence. With his demise, I shall ascend to rule over the abominations of Mount Kalib, reigning as the ultimate terror in this forsaken realm."