The Keep
”WHAT?!”
The voice thundering from behind the door was much deeper, much more aggressive and antagonistic than Horna had been expecting. For half a heartbeat, he considered turning around. Nerves were getting the best of him. He was the animal halfway between trying to carcass being devoured by a ravening wolf and running screaming back into the bogs. His limbs were tired and sore. He had not waited from the moment he crafted the war hammer to the enchanting. His arms were aflame. Yet, even as they felt like they might fall off at any moment, his entire body felt like a living bolt of lightning, filled with a heavy, kinetic energy. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Freedom lies in being bold,” he mumbled to himself. He opened his eyes; the trepidation, the indecisiveness, the timorousness all melted like fat dribbling off the bone. He gripped the hammer with both hands, the weariness pushed into the back of his mind.
He went to open the door, but before he had a chance, the thing nearly exploded off its hinges and before him stood one of the most terrifying sights he’d seen in years. An orc, a behemoth of muscle and rage, that dwarfed him in both height and weight stood in the doorway, red eyes gleaming distant reflection of a volcanic eruption. The one and only Yarltang, butcher and slayer of a thousand battles. The distant memories of a young bog orc began to jump to his present, memories of striking, running, and hiding before the enemy had enough wits to gather themselves.
Yet he stood his ground. His hands did not shake, the timbre of his voice did not quaver. This was the what he came here for. He puffed out his chest and smirked with pride as he hefted the war hammer to the center of attention. “Lord Yarltang,” he said with his most placating voice. “My name is Horna, lately come from down south to work in the forges of the Delgaran. I created this for you,” he pushed his arms out to their full extension, showcasing the war hammer in the dim ginger light. His shoulders bulged and roared with an inner fire. “should you accept it, I think you will find that my creation is a superior piece of craftsmanship than what you have been carrying. Someone as violent as you deserves a weapon that can match your savagery.”
