Firestorm - The Hrukvorn Lodge VII - The Bargain

Folkvar-Grimnir found himself in that same dark place his dreams often took him to. In his hand he held a torch, but he had none of his other possessions with him.

'I thought I'd find you here, my little friend,' came a sinister, familiar voice from the impenetrable darkness.

He held his torch out at arm's length and took a tentative step forward. A great, winged shadow loomed into view.

'You,' growled Folkvar. 'What do you want now, you thagging great mutant?'

'Now, now,' clucked Karnack, his three avian heads coming into view as he strode forward. 'Still smarting from our last encounter, are we?'

'I'm assuming you're here for some other purpose than to gloat? Or has being a triple-headed chicken wizard become so boring that you've started haunting my dreams?'

Karnack threw back his three heads and laughed; shrill and unnatural was the sound.

'I do so enjoy our little chats, Folkvar, but I am afraid it is business that brings me to your little nook,' replied the daemon with nigh-on sincere regret. 'The threads of fate have begun to converge on the Flamescar Plateau – and I have seen your part in it.'

Folkvar rolled his eyes.

'Out with it then – what do you want?'

'A great host of orruks runs rampant across these lands – a host in control of the Eternia Realmway,' continued Karnack. He waved his spindly hands and a vision of a great army of orruks rampaging through a village appeared before Folkvar's eyes.

'With such technology, they could appear before the gates of any city in an instant,' - the orruk host were now laying siege to Ashenhold, with one of their great, stone idols beating down the gates – 'and civilization will give way to rampant destruction.'

Karnack snapped his fingers and the vision disappeared in a cloud of shimmering dust.

'The Changer of Ways requires Order for his works,' cooed Karnack. 'And Order requires leaders such as yourself. Help me halt the orruk's advance and together we can stand against Nagash's rising tide of death. I shall even open my coffers to you... Ur-gold pieces amounting to nine thousands.'

The daemon flipped a coin at Folkvar, which the duardin caught in his left hand. He bit the coin hard, then carefully examined it.

The greater daemon gave a clucking laugh.

'Sleep on it, my little friend,' said Karnack as he began to slowly slink back into the dark. 'But I shall need your answer on the morrow...'

Folkvar rolled the coin he had found in his hand when he had awakened that morning between his forefinger and thumb.

'Are they here yet?' said Folkvar to Runesmiter Alsvir as he walked through the door of the war room.

'They are,' replied the masked priest. 'Shall I have them sent in?'

'No, I'll come out,' replied Folkvar as he slapped the coin down on the arm of his chair. 'I don't want them filching anything.'

The two duardin strode out of the war room, out onto the battlements of the fortress and down into the courtyard. The Torchbearers – Folkvar's hearthguard – were arrayed on either side of the portcullis as three hulking orruks astride massive, shaggy-haired pigs trotted into the courtyard. Two of the riders remained by the gateway, whilst the leader had his mount trot into the middle of the yard where he dismounted. The orruk was huge – easily 7 foot tall – and wore a crudely fashioned patch over his left eye.

'Greetings, Folkvar-Grimnir,' began the massive orruk with a respectful bow of his head. 'Da boss 'as sent me to ya wif a most generous offa – if you'll be so kind as to 'ear us out.'

Folkvar's attention was diverted to a commotion by the entrance to the courtyard as the orruk's immense mount had trotted over to a stack of crates in a corner of the courtyard and was attempting to upturn the containers to empty them of their contents. The terrified workers were pinned to the walls in fear.

''Scuse me one moment,' said the one-eyed orruk, having observed the scene.

'FUNDA!' he bellowed as he stomped over to the boar. 'I TOLD YA TA STAY PUT YA GREAT FILFY GLOB!'

The orruk punched the beast hard in the nose and it howled in agony. He grabbed hold of its harness and dragged it back over to where his two companions were sat snickering away from atop their own mounts.

'Ya fink it's funny, do ya?' growled one-eye. 'One more toe outta line and you two gits'll be digging shittas for a monf!'

The two orruks' faces fell at the mention of latrine duty and there was a brief squabble as they each fought to take hold of the reins of the leader's mount.

''umble apologies,' said one-eye as he turned his attention back to Folkvar-Grimnir and Alsvir with a grin that showed just a little too much tooth to be friendly. 'As I was sayin' before I was so rudely interrupted, I 'ave been sent wif a very generous offa for you boys!'

He snapped his fingers and the orruk rider who was not clutching the reins of the errant mount rushed over with a battered iron-bound chest which he slammed down. at his leader's feet. One-eye kicked it open, spilling gold pieces out over the frosty earth of the courtyard. The eyes of the two duardin visibly widened.

''alf up front, 'alf after da scrap,' said the orruk. 'Dat's six-fousand pieces, dere – a good chunk of da loot we've taken. Like I says – a generous offa.'

Folkvar glanced from the orruk to Alsvir, then back again.

'Give it a check,' he said to Alsvir, locking eyes with the orruk.

'I fink you'll find all accounted for, dere,' said one-eye as he folded his arms across his massive chest. 'Counted it meself.'

The Runesmiter held a piece up to the light for a moment, then sniffed it. He turned to Folkvar and nodded.

'It's good,' he said nonchalantly, tossing the piece back into the pile.

'Tell your general that we'll fight for him,' said Folkvar-Grimnir. 'We accept his offer of 12,000 ur-gold pieces with deposit of 6,000. You'll remain here whilst my runesmiters count what you've brought. If you try to cheat us, we will kill you. If you turn on us in battle, we will kill you. This fee is good for one battle and one battle only, during which any and all enemies of yours are enemies of ours.'

Folkvar extended his right hand to one-eye. 'Do we have terms?'

The orruk reached down and clasped the duardin's hand in his own.

'We 'ave terms, runefava,' replied the orruk with a grin. 'Now let's get da gold counted so da killin' can begin...'