Prologue

What can all of this mean? What will come of it? As always, even for Goldem, only time will tell.

Prologue...

A lifeless plain of frozen grass, dirt, and tundra. This is a land that does not shine in the clouded sun above when it becomes visible, but whistles with the chilly wind, that occasionally passes through and stirs the small patches of plant life barely able to survive in the hardened soil. This is a terrain that has known no relief, been given no rest, and has witnessed ages of struggle. Ages of violence, bloodshed, and conflict. All of this lies within the enormous mountain shadows looming into the sky miles away.

The atmosphere of this rugged and desolate tundra is filled with ominous tension. No noise, no animal or insect, breaks the chilly air. A light breeze rolls in and with it come the faint sounds of struggle in the distance. Passing by ice covered rocks, over the blue-gray dirt below, one would only have to step over a northern hill to find a rather unnerving scene. Downhill would be a kind of clearing, a chilly prairie, where figures could be seen slamming into and fighting one another. They were alarmingly huge, with hardened bulging muscles, that flexed and un-flexed during blows.

Two different forms were distinguishable. Of the twelve fighting, three were six armed dog people, easily weaving and slashing with their four longswords. Among the trio was one impressive fighter, who stood quite tall at 7.5 feet, and bore coal black armor. His personal cape, colored rose red and engraved with crossed blades as a symbol, epically flapped in the wind with each movement. His suit of protective armor glinted dully in the weak sunlight and protected his jackal like head along with every other body part. His own companions also wore similar armor, excluding capes, showing that this dog man could be important in some way.

Beside these canine fighters, the remaining nine warriors, were both Gorilla looking and somewhat bulkier. They all had to stand at a minimum of 7 feet tall and max of 8.5. Only one figure stood at eight and a half feet however and his war hammer smashed down all opposition! He wore a thick helm that hid his expression, though gray facial hair escaped several openings around the chin, and every piece of his armor was not attractive. It was like the ape man had routed through a junkyard, ripped off slabs of rusted iron, and melded them into a blood red suit of armor with patches of gray. He stood in an aged breastplate, helmet, shoulder plates, greaves, boots, and gauntlets. With a grimy set of breeches and leather tunic hidden underneath it all.

Following this nightmarish fighter were four others like him, but obviously younger, and not dressed in nearly as thick armor. Though their style was similar. Like they too had gathered up junk and fitted it onto themselves to resemble their mammoth sized leader pounding at every foe in his path with his enormous war hammer. From the looks of the fight, the giant Gorilla Man and caped Dog Man were allies, and pounded at a troop of other Ape men. The remaining four brutish warriors, fighting nine opponents at once, also fought in junk styled armor. Their leader was equally large, bulky, and old.

This outnumbered squad held with a 8.2 foot Gorilla man, who wielded a thick circular shield in one hand, and swung a blunt but massive broadsword with the other closed fist. His helmet appeared decorated. It spiked upwards, with a thick visor pulled down, and it also had pleasant feathers of an eagle attached to its forehead that fluttered in the chilling winds blowing through as he struggled. Poking straight down from his chin was a raven black goatee. Also from the back of his head hung a braided ponytail, about a foot long, that swung with every movement the leader made.

With defiant shouts, roars of fury from the Gorillas and grunts of struggle from the Dogs, the group began to shrink in number. The ground, once grayish blue from the endless chill gained another color, and that color was a sickening red. Each time a blow was scored, on one side or the other, blood would splatter forth from that certain place! The mass producer of blood was the massive Gorilla leaders, apart for the caped Dog fighter, who stabbed into two ape foes with his six blades. Both Gorillas stiffened, three deadly swords in their bodies, before being easily flung aside. As those two tumbled away, the rebellious leader gave out a nasty cry of anger, and slashed his club blade forth. It knocked away a Dog Warrior, who sailed into a Gorilla foe, and then the sword bashed another Gorilla’s head messily in!

As the sword using Gorilla Leader turned away from the dead ape fighter, he defended against the Dog General’s furious swords with his broad shield, before powerfully shoving him away. The only fellow who backed up this valiantly, but hopelessly outnumbered Ape Man, rushed forth to aid him with his own rusted mace. He did not get to help. Indeed, the fighter shoved off another Gorilla, who was attempting to distract his experienced leader... But his life was extinguished like a candle when, pounding forth, the other gorilla leader savagely smashed him aside with his hammer! He fell away, like his two fellows, and remained still.

Seeing this, his own armor somewhat wet with the last follower’s blood, the Sword and Shield Ape Man gave a furious shout. Another giant recklessly came forth, war axe at the ready, but was knocked off his feet when a boulder connected with his skull! He too did not move afterwards. Snatching his dull blade back up, the outnumbered leader assaulted the massive Ape, who carried the hammer! With a resounding “clash” of metal meeting metal, the sword wielding Gorilla fell away, and his weapon spun through the air! It landed out of sight and, now seeing their chance, the remaining savages rushed forward!

With some chaotic shouting, struggling too, the black haired Ape was held down. It took three of the younger warriors to do so, and as they kept him down on his knees, the gray haired Ape stood over him. Hammer hanging limply down in his hands. He exhaled loudly, both of his orange eyes shined like coals, and he grunted with satisfaction. His reason for doing this was obvious. He had won. Behind him, the Dog General and his two soldiers observed, their forms were somewhat fogged by snow just beginning to fall. These flakes floated downwards and began blanketing the red with white. Along with the still bodies scattered through the clearing.

This newly falling snow, catching onto the seven remaining figures, gave the atmosphere a somewhat depressed feel. The black haired Ape vainly struggled with his captors, giving a berserk roar when he failed,

“Bricknarn! You will die for this! You will lead the Gorrin into death by joining that Anubite piece of trash! They are Wolves! That’s all they are, fool! Wolves! Wolves that will eat our kind alive if we succumb to their lies!”

The gray haired Gorilla straightened up at this shout. He slammed his hammer into the ground, lifted up his heavily reinforced arms, and removed his helmet. A cold, monstrous face was revealed, with braided facial hair and sideburns. This savage, known as “Bricknarn”, had gray skin colored just like the rapidly vanishing earth. It was cold, ruthless, and he had two fangs slightly jutting from his lower lip. He had no nose. Only nostrils that flared with each breath and exhaled thick clouds of carbon dioxide.

Bricknarn held his helm under one arm. His other free hand gripped the war hammer by its handle. He finally spoke, with a firm and victorious voice,

“You and your little troop only thought this, Grefkin. Look at you now. There are none who follow you and those who did were shunned. They died an un-winnable battle, old one. If anything, you gave them false hope, and that is obvious due to the fact that you’re alone. None ever came to join your ranks in years.”

The black haired Ape, Grefkin, gave a savage snarl at hearing someone insult his loyal followers this way. They had given their lives, their strength, to keep this very thing from coming. They had failed it seemed. Bricknarn watched his defeated foe growl,

“Time makes fools of us all! You are a fool! A power hungry monkey that will not listen to reason or sense! Pride is what has gotten in this people’s way for too long and I am attempting to accomplish a relation with all of Goldem! With the queen! I am patient and I know that our people are not savages! They can become something! There is hope and you are going to smash that into a thousand pieces by joining that Anubite wretch? This war will be the end of the Gorrin! You will lead them into oblivion! One way or another, because of Goldem itself or of other forces, our people will be erased!”

Bricknarn lifted up his war hammer and held it out over Grefkin. There, it trembled, ominously foreshadowing what was intended to be done. Ready to come down with unmerciful force at any moment. Grefkin did not flinch however, instead, he grew even more energetic at the threat. He threw his captors off balance, but they regained themselves as Grefkin exclaimed,

“Our people are one step close to the point of no return! It’s because of fools and warmongers like you, Bricknarn, that have put our race in the state it is in today! One more wrong move and I swear, as the Queen as my witness, that every other allied race will invade Afrim! They will burn our children! They will tear our families apart and skewer them on the spot! We will be wiped away!”

Bricknarn pulled away his hammer, rested it upon his bulky right shoulder with a sneer, and then grinned up towards the gray sky pouring snow upon the world now. He laughed out loud and the Grefkin stiffened when his enemy evilly stated,

“Not if we wipe them out first, Grefkin. We are capable. We are civilized in a way. All of those races out there, including the Queen, will regret underestimating us when I, CHIEF BRICKNARN--”

Bricknarn lifted up his free arm and his face contorted with pleasure at the thought of him being supreme leader as he roared into the snowy sky,

“--lead our people to victory! When I kill every nation. When I take their riches, their good farmland, their lives then our people will know their place. It will be all over Goldem! Then we will no longer starve and fight like we do! We will be like the Anubite! Our lives won’t consist of fighting for every mouthful of water or fistful of food! We will live! Like we never have before!”

Grefkin’s holders gave encouraged grunts at Bricknarn’s uplifting speech. Their eyes sparkled with wild fantasies of them living off fertile land, no longer fighting one another, having grand riches beyond their dreams. Bricknarn lowered his face from the sky, his eyes fixed onto Grefkin, and he knelt down to take hold of his enemy by the collar. After doing this, he coldly stated,

“That is what I have promised the tribes who serve me.”

Then Bricknarn observed Grefkin before questioning,

“And what do you give them? Words... You give them words, Grefkin. Our people do not want words any longer but dreams! They’ve dealt with words all their life! Words that scorn them, that shun them, that insult them, that reject them! Words do not work but actions do... I have earned my position through sacrifice, through strife, through battle and that work has proven successful! I have claimed land! The Komodo flee me!”

Bricknarn turned away and walked several paces before stopping with his back to Grefkin. He looked up towards the sky and said quietly,

“The Komodo... The Elves... The Anubites... Even the Queen... They all look upon us and all they believe they see is monsters who deserve nothing! Over the years, the Gorrin have tried to use words, and those words have fallen onto deaf ears! What makes your words so different, Grefkin? I do not see any results from your strategy... You prove to be unsuccessful.”

After saying this, Bricknarn re-equipped his helm, before lifting up his heavy weapon into both his hands. He turned to Grefkin, who did not look away, but determinedly stared back with a defiant grimace. Bricknarn stepped forth. Then whispered,

“Words are useless. The Gorrin have been mistreated for too long, Grefkin... The time has come to fight fire with fire. None match our strength. All the Gorrin need are a leader.”

Bricknarn’s lips shifted into a small smile,

“I will be remembered. I will be the greatest, strongest, and most feared Gorrin Chieftain that ever walked this land. Not only this land. The entire world! You, Grefkin... I offer you a chance, to show how merciful I am as that Chieftain, to put aside your ways. To put them away and follow me into war. I give you a chance to be a loyal brother like you haven’t been.”

There was a silence. Grefkin looked down towards the ground and he gave a small but audible laugh. Bricknarn took this as an answer. He straightened up and raised his massive hammer into the cold air, but listened when Grefkin wearily spoke from below,

“You are wrong, Bricknarn. You may not see it now, but you will know, and it will come to you before the end. I suppose it is in our blood. As Gorrin, we are naturally prone to fight. That one trait will be our downfall. That one trait is what devours our people’s hope.”

Bricknarn’s eyes flashed. He answered with a firm voice,

“You are wrong, Grefkin. That one trait is what will defeat Goldem. That one trait is what gives our people hope... It will be our motivation and strength.”

Grefkin did not laugh or continue the conversation. Instead, he glared up at Bricknarn with eyes just as furious and simply growled,

“Very well then... Finish it.”

The snow drifted through the air as thick as fog now. From the six armed warrior’s points of view, also known as the “Anubites”, they silently watched through the dense snowfall as Bricknarn raised his hammer over Grefkin’s skull.

Everything was so blinded by snow, all that could be seen was a few feet ahead, and Bricknarn was merely an outline of a Gorrin. A foggy form standing over Grefkin’s. The three Gorrin soldiers stirred when Bricknarn suddenly swung back and they flinched when... the air echoed the powerful strike of Bricknarn’s hammer slamming down into the earth. It was slightly deafened by a disgusting “crunch” and then all was quiet. With a flick of his ears, the Anubite General swept aside his cape, before trudging forth. His two followers, with swords out, quietly traced his steps until they stood beside Bricknarn’s giant form.

Blood dripped off his chest plate and greaves and hammer. Into the already dawn red snow made by Grefkin’s execution. Bricknarn did not stir or show emotion when the Anubite General spoke. Spoke with a smooth and deep voice from under his helm,

“You have done well, Bricknarn... There is no opposition now. Varshnen will be most pleased with your actions and your unwavering support. He will reward you handsomely for this villain’s death. Now and after the war when he becomes Goldem’s ruler.”

Bricknarn remained quiet and didn’t move when the General signaled for one of his soldiers to go forth to Grefkin’s body. The soldier sheathed three of his blades, kept out one, and approached the fallen Gorrin’s mutilated skull. As he picked at the neck, his General continued to praise the ominously silent Bricknarn,

“After the battle for the Spire is over, good Gorrin, Varshnen will give you what you ask. He will let you live where you wish and grant you what your people want. Land, power, money, whatever it is you want. You shall receive it.”

Bricknarn’s surviving soldiers came into view and their eyes flashed viciously towards the well dressed Anubites. A slight tension filled the air. The General stirred when Bricknarn finally spoke in a cold growl,

“I will heed some of Grefkin’s words, Anubite. The Gorrin have been used before... If this is the same case, if you really do turn into wolves, then mark my words every Gorrin will tear every one of Varshnen’s soldier’s apart. Even Varshnen himself.”

There was a tense silence. It was broken when the soldier finally finished his job and ventured into his General’s presence, before holding out something,

“Grefkin’s head... Sir.”

Bricknarn remained just as cold faced when the Anubite General received Grefkin’s head and held it out to him next. The General’s ears twitched in impatience and his green eyes narrowed into slits. Then he became casual again, while saying,

“Then that will be where Lord Varshnen is different than any other ally you have had before, Gorrin. He will not betray you. He will reward your people and you will see, after the war is won, that our words are honest. That we are not wolves like Grefkin spouted.”

Bricknarn looked upon the remnants of Grefkin’s mutilated skull, only a dripping object, fogged by the dense downpour of snow now continually falling. The massive chieftain reached forward and tugged off Grefkin’s blood stained helmet without another word. Seeing that his job was done, the General allowed Grefkin’s head to simply fall to the white ground and then he stated firmly,

“That piece will earn your people’s loyalty now. Knowing that no enemy could match your strength, Bricknarn, the Gorrin will look to you for leadership. They will see, when you return, that they have a leader with no opposition. Now, you are a splendid chieftain.”

Bricknarn gave a gruff snort while gazing upon Grefkin’s empty helm. Then the great ape looked up from his trophy and growled a menacing growl,

“I am not convinced, Anubite. Varshnen is weak. He has only come to Afrim since there is none he can turn to now. I, and these fellows too, are aware of how Anubites despise the Gorrin people. We do not favor your kind either.”

The Anubites gripped their swords when Bricknarn loomed over the General. He snorted a misty puff of breath into the Dog Man’s face before hissing,

“If one hair raises on my neck in a wrong way... If I sense any danger that threatens my people’s existence and their dreams because of your lord... I and my companions will strike hard and fierce and you will regret any ill thought you have about us. Like at the moment.”

The Gorrin warriors snarled in unison. The General straightened when Bricknarn drew back and the dog man answered with a controlled voice,

“Trust my friend. You must trust in Lord Varshnen. He will get you what you want.”

Bricknarn gave a half snort/ half laugh. He then leaned forward again and stated,

“I do not put my trust in words, Anubite. I believe in action. Actions speak louder than words. I should know. It is that very quote that has given me the status I have now.”

The Anubite blinked. He then responded once more,

“Varshnen will ease your doubts. Once you aid him with Goldem... He will aid you.”

Author's Note

Well, what did you think? Should I go on writing this?

Reviews

[Dicy Peters]

This is an awesome prologue. I would like to read it again and provide more insight later this evening. Count on me for feedback...

[Cousitarian]

I appreciate the fact that you actually took a moment to comment on this story when you finished reading it. Seriously, it's nice to know that there are people out there who take time to let fellow writers know how they're doing on their work. As for this particular piece, the Journal of Goldem, I do very much believe this is one of the more... pathetic pieces of writing that I did back in middle school. So all of this is about, er, 6 years old. And 6 years ago, lol, I wasn't exactly as clear or experienced in writing as I am now.

If you do plan to come back and read this piece later on in the evening, I'd be very grateful for your time and insight. Just to warn you, though, this writing was done aproximately six or seven years ago by my middle school self. And during those days, heh, I wrote nilly-nally without much though on sentence structure, grammar use, etc, etc, etc.

[Dicy Peters]

Awesome, I will get back to you very soon