Midnight RPG - Chapter 37.480

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Some evening after the dragon has been buried, but (obviously) before the group leaves First-Hold, Durgaz will return to the Blood-Wolves' camp and command them to gather at One-Arm's supply caravan, which should already have been ransacked by this point. When they have all gathered there, he will climb up onto one of the wagons, where he can see and address them all at once, and speak:

"I am Durgaz akranklob zordrafin-lagurz: Durgaz, of the Dark Mother, Mirror-breaker."

"You were the Worgagrish, the Blood-Wolves of Shaelgruf One-Arm, sons of a hundred mothers, the teeth of Burgûl the All-Father. I say you WERE these things because you are no longer. One-Arm rots in the sun, his carcass a feast for worms and crows. I command this legion now, and your new orders are these: you will no longer be the All-father's lapdogs. You do not fight for Burgûl any longer. From this night forth, you will curse his name and call him enemy."

"Why? Because he All-Father has betrayed us. He has betrayed all orcs. He names us his favored children, but he places human legates above us, weak and craven creatures that deserve no such authority. He demands our fealty, sends us to fight and die for him, but gives us nothing in return. He tells us that this world will be ours when we have scoured it of those who resist him, but he lies. He means to slay this world, drink its blood and draw upon its power to ascend to the heavens. He has tricked us into fighting for him, killing for him, dying for him, while he laughs at us and calls us fools. And for this, he must be made to SUFFER."

"Think on this: How many orcs have been sent to die by the score for a few miles of forest, and why? Do we want their trees? No! We are being sacrificed for Burgûl's foolish pride, as he attempts to stamp out the elves for turning their backs on him. How many orcs are stationed the towns and hamlets of Erenland, commanded to brutalize and corral the most pathetic and piteous of human refugees, and to what end? Are you vultures, fit only to prey upon the sick and the weak? No! You are odrendor! And from this night forth, you will no longer be set upon elves and men. You will rend the flesh and drink the blood of WORTHY foes ... the bastard sons of those tribes still in thrall to the betrayer god. You will feast upon the hearts of the commanders who have risen to the All-Father's favor on a sea of their brothers' blood. You will burn the temples of the shadow-sworn, and you will slay the puny legates who lurk there, thinking themselves worthy to command you. You will fight for GLORY, not for the favor of a weak and indolent father."

"And hear this: you WILL fight alongside Men, and you WILL fight alongside Elves. You need not drink their wine, or share their camps, but you WILL fight alongside them, and you will NOT raise your weapons to them. If they prove themselves worthy of your respect, you will show it to them. I see orcs of a dozen tribes here. If you can put aside your differences and fight together, you can and will do the same for whatever allies we can muster.

"If anyone among you has a problem with this, step up now and tell me so. We will settle the matter right here and now. If you can wrest command of this legion from me, you can run it however you wish. So come now. If you cannot bring yourselves to ally with elves and men, tell me now, and I will make your death a quick one. If you say nothing, but cause me problems later, I will see to it that you wish for death a thousand times over before your soul is hurled to the Scar in pieces.

"No? Then it is done."

"Hear this then. I am no longer Durgaz akranklob zordrafin-lagurz. I am Durgaz athakmurz-golauk zordrafin-lagurz: Durgaz of the Black Mask, Mirror-breaker. And you are no longer Worgagrish. You are Dulugolauk, the legion of the Black Mask. You. Get up here."

One of the orcs steps forward from the group. Durgaz motions for him to bare his shoulder, then draws his vardatch from his back. It erupts into flames as he presses the flat of the blade against the orc's tribal tattoo, scorching it out of existence, then pulls the blade away. The flames go out. Durgaz pulls a flat steel object from his belt and places it over the orc's face; a steel mask, beaten out of a buckler taken from a fallen warrior on the field and forged into the likeness of Durgaz's own mask, Fear Bringer.

"You will wear these masks into battle to symbolize your rejection of the All-father and his servants. Your minds will remain free and unclouded from his influence, and your visages will strike terror into the hearts of shadow-thralls everywhere. Go into the field of battle and bring back the steel to make your own. The smithy there .." Durgaz points to the anvil and smithy contained on one of the caravan transports "... will provide what you need."

Durgaz steps back, positioning himself beside a large keg of blood-grog. "But tonight you will drink." he says, raising his vardatch. "Tonight you will drink to new enemies. New battles to be fought. New glories to be won." He strikes a blow to the side of the keg, and the spirits spurt out onto the blade; flames erupt anew from the vardatch, soaking it in liquid fire as he raises it to the sky.