Layonara World Lore > Hall of Heroes and Heroines

Life and death of Gotak Gungur


[SIZE=13]Gotak was the second born son of Gragar and Tilar Gungur. He always looked up to his older brother Grogil, who had a reputation as one of the best bodyguards in Mistone. Through misfortune an bad luck Grogil was dishonored and was forced to exile from Mistone. He left no message behind and left for an unknown destination for a honorable death. Gotak soon became aware of his brothers leave, and took up the heavy burden from his brother to carry on in his place. Gotak was always the biggest of the two brothers and therefore had some trouble adjusting into the the new surroundings in Hlint always being the mockery of elven jokes. [/SIZE]
  [SIZE=16]The last day of Gotak Gungur:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=13]Loud noises sweep through the air, sounds of metal hitting metal echo through the halls. Men yelling battle orders and others screaming in anger. The place is Arindors resting place, and the scenery is seen before. [/SIZE][SIZE=13]A dwarf in the front dogding blows and at a pace no mere elf could ever hope to acheive. His axe kills with every swing, and he carves a way through the menacing slaads, as they feel the searing steel of his flameing axe. His eyes are red, and his beard the same colour, a battlefever have taken over him, and he is unstoppable on the point of madness, as no enemy can best his mighty axe and his quick strikes. A small break occours, as the slaads retreat back into the depts to regain strenght. A slow slaad dosnt quite make it fast enuff through the shadowry tunnels and the dwarf manages to pick an wood axe from his belt and fling it at the back of its skull. It falls to the ground with a heavy thumb. The rest of the party have to combine their strenght to hold back the dwarf for following the slaaads. He sighs, and looks at the rest of the party all bloody and tired, and he finnaly settles abit down. He realice that not everyone can be a dwarf. [/SIZE][SIZE=13]He sits himself next to a fellow, but younger dwarf and offers him a drink from his canteen. The younger dwarf accepts it and drinks it, only to spit it out quickly after."Hmm I guess your not used to drinking the good stuff yet. It will come, and will grow some chesthair on you" the dwarf laughs as he takes a swig of and sinks the fluids. He looks to his side and see the clerics discuss heavily. He leans in to hear what they are discussing. The clerics are cursing and it seems that they was not prepared for this kinda opposition. The dwarf smiles and thinks to himself, what opposition, just some overgrown lizards, nothing hard here. Then he looks over to see the troubled face of the younger dwarf. The clerics keep raising their voices and they stand up and starts to yell about going back, and that going on would be suicide.The dwarf stands up and approches the clerics. "Whats the big problem here" The dwarf interrupts the clerics. The clerics confine to the dwarf that the sacred symbols to ward of unwanted death, the socalled deathward was not going to be enuff to shield the entire party, and that going on without, especcially this close to the resting place of Arindor, would be like killing yourself. The dwarf looked at his party, and then again to the young dwarf. He closes his eyes for a moment, and breathes steadily in and out. He pushes the cleric again and says that how many people does the deathward last for, and the clerics says that all except one, can be protected. But the cleric dont want to kill anyone and he dont want to commit anyone to choosing to go without. The dwarf tightens the grip of his axe, his knuckles white, and his eyes starts to become red again. "Deathward is fer pansies" the dwarf thunders as he charges down the narrow path. "Get everyone ready and come if your able to keep up" he yells back. The cleric didnt know what to do, but hastily prepared the party to move after the dwarf. [/SIZE][SIZE=13]The dwarf comes to a open place where dousins og slaads had hold up to prepare to defend. They didnt expect anyone to come so soon, and they were thrown of their guard. the dwarf jumps into the fray and starts to hack the slaads to pieces. As their deathwails echo down the halls, the dwarf can hear his party approaching, and he looks back for a sec to see if the young dwarf is with them. At the very same moment a slaad casts a foul magic of the unwanted kind upon the dwarf, and as quick as he normally is, the dwarf is caught flatfooted and off balance, and cannot avoid the swirling bright vortex that engulfs him. The dwarf feels his entire body fighting this magic and it torts in anger to resist it. But the magics are to strong, and the last thing the dwarf sees is his party jumping in to kill the last slaads. The vortex ends, and the dwarfs body falls to the ground. His eys blindly looking into the neverending rooms, with his axe in his hand. A voice begins to fade in and it says: Gotak? Gotak?[/SIZE][SIZE=13][SIZE=13] [/SIZE][/SIZE][SIZE=13][SIZE=13]Gotak? Gotak?[/SIZE][/SIZE]  [SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13]Gotak looks up from the table, and looks around. He is in a golden hall filled with beautyfull jewelry, large kegs with beer flowing freely from then. A endless tables with meats upon meat that streatches as far an eye can see. Im glad to see you here Gotak, a dwarf speaks in a high brumming voice. We've been following you for quite some time and were glad to have such a hero among the gods. Hero?, gotak puzziling asks. Yes a hero, your deeds does not go unnoticed here at the halls of Vorax. Now you can look forward to an endless time of feasting and telling stories and eating. All the best things from your world, and you can do it all the time, the dawrf says. And who are you?, gotak asks. I am our gods main greeter, the one that accepts all new people that vorship Vorax into our halls. Gotak looks around, he realises that he is dead, and finds himself puzzled that all there is to this place, the place that he always wanted to come, is nothing more than all what he ever did on earth. The greeter notices Gotak wearing face and asks if everything is not what he ever wanted. Gotak looks at him and says: Yes, its all I ever wanted, all I ever sought was a glorious death, a death against unwhelming odds, a fight I could never win. The greeter says: And didnt you get a fight against impossible odds, and didnt you die like a true hero would die, sacrifing his safety to ensure others. Gotak grins: you call that a fight? That was just a mere fluke of uneasy conditions, I would have beaten the slaads, im sure of it. But you didnt, the greeter says. You didnt survieve and you died, thus meaning that it is your time to come to halls of Vorax. Gotak snorts and says in a low voice, It was not overwhelming odds, howcome the party didnt die if I did then? Because you ran off without a deathward, the greeter sighs. Listen, everyone feels the same as you do when they first come, but after a while they learn to accept it, and in time they come to see this place as their new home. No, Gotaks says, starting to back away from the table, I will not let death be so cheesy, I will not accept that I died while fighting an inferior enemy, I will not seize to know that my work on Layonara is done. Know this and know it forever, Gotak yells and swings his mighty axe into the tables, splitting it in two, with food and beer splilling all over. A loud booming laughter fills the halls, and the entire hall breaks out in joyness laughter. Gotak looks up, and realizes that he is the cause of the laughter. You passed the test. The first in a long time Gotak: the greeter says. Test?!, Gotak mumbles. What bloody test? I just want back! The test is to see if your fit to return to your world. we always apply it newcommers when they are still in shock of the deatheffect, the loss of soul, and cannot make heads or tails of where they are, and as such accept their deaths and move on. But not you. I guess its from all your deaths that you dont have any ill side-effects, hmm we have to study ths at a later point. Gotak says: Later? Yes later, the greeter say, your needed on Layonara and theres not a second to spare, to much have passed since you came here. I came here only 15min ago, gotaks grins at the greeter. Hmm yes, but time works diffrent here, and many moons have passed since you, eehh, unvoulentarily left Layonara. But enough talking, walk with me. [/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE]
  [SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13]The greeter takes Gotak to a curtain inside the halls, and pulls it aside. A wast open space appears for Gotaks eyes and seems to go on forever. If you choose to go back, you only have to take one step forward and you'll be back in Layonara, but.....!! But what? Gotaks asks. There is some sideeffects to this procedure, and its actually not been used in ages, not sure it even works, the greeter says with a small grin. Gotak looks into the black beyond, nothing but darkness that goes on forever. He closes his eyes, and tells the greeter that he wont be back for while, and then he jumps. His body feels weightless and for a moment it feels as if hes not going anywhere, he just trapped in this inifinite void of nothingness. Then suddenly the tiniest of lights begin to appear way out in the distance, and a sound start to ring in his ears, and the sound becomes louder and louder, and the light becomes brigther and brigther, and soon it fills the entire void that Gotak is in, and the sounds explodes in his ears. [/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE]
  [SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13][SIZE=13]He starts to scream![/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE]

… Sounds of battle, lightning crackling across the sky…
      … Fountains of blood flying through the air like droplets of red rain …
  “By Vorax that was close,”
      Gotak thought to himself. The barbed club had flown directly at his head, missing only by inches thanks to a strong hand that pulled him back in the last second. He turned his gaze behind him and saw the troll that had thrown the club trying to escape, until it was suddenly engulfed in a burning red fire that killed it in seconds. He lay on his back, cursing himself for not seeing the troll behind him, and a gentle face looked down at him from above. The female elf dressed in red-dyed full plate, Ilsare’s holy symbol around her neck, had in her hand a mighty warhammer, at least twice as big as what one might think she could lift. She swung it into its place along her belt with a fluid motion, and extended a hand down to Gotak.
  “Thank ye Rev, I thought for moment I would have fallen in an honorless death from a cowardly troll.“
    She smiled briefly in answer, and pulled the large dwarf up from the muddy ground. Gotak slowly climbed to his feet, his massive muscles working against him as if his entire body was trying to tell him to stay down. But he got up, and moved slowly towards the troll that had thrown the spiked weapon.
  The troll was no longer recognizable, lying there torched to a crisp with no chance of it regenerating anything ever again. As Gotak stood looking at the corpse, he felt the sudden closeness of a presence behind him. Before he could turn, a wizard’s staff was knocked over his head.
        “Don’t you ever learn? You don’t need to die, you know.”   Gotak turned fully around while rubbing his head, and saw Brac’ar standing in front of him.
  “Hmm, really? It seems that it’s you that never learns, a slayer killed in the midst of combat against a greater foe is an honorable death.”
  Brac’ar adjusted his robes with a shake of his head, clearly too tired for more hours of debate over this question.
  Gotak saw the reaction and made no attempt to further push the dialogue, instead testing the sharpness on his greataxe by letting his thumb glide across the edge of the blade. Blood welled up over his skin and he gave a satisfied grunt while sucking it from his thumb. He walked up to a small hill made of the bodies of trolls he had killed before Rev had saved him. He glanced over into the swamps, and then saw glimpses of movement inside the misty fog.
  “It seems they are getting more--might be a whole clan that we found.”
  He spoke the words casually, as if it was the most normal comment in the world to make when outnumbered 20 to 1. He looked to Rev beside him, where she was shifting her feet.
  “You know that I will fight beside you, Gotak, despite your disregard for your own life.”
  She said the words calmly, laying a hand on her warhammer at the same time. Gotak knew he could count on Rev. She had been there since he came to Hlint, traveling with him through thick and thin, no matter the danger involved. She had cared for him, protected him from who knows how many threats that would have otherwise killed the dwarf. He wasn’t sure why she tried so hard to keep him from his rightful death, but in times like this, he was just glad that she was beside him, and not against him. He moved his eyes over to where Brac’ar was doing some preparation, the wizard making sure that his magic would be ready for the final confrontation.
  A roar emerged from the other side of the swamps; the sound of hundreds of bodies moving in one chaotic mass reached them, along with the familiar growls that only trolls can produce. Gotak threw his greataxe into his hand and tested its weight, then mumbled a few words to it. The runes along it lit up, setting the axe ablaze.
  “Har, looks like we got more than one clan. Let the pansies come, I’ll kill them all!”
  Gotak almost spat the words as he raised his axe into the air, shouting a battlecry that almost deafened the trolls running ahead of the others. Rev donned her visor, pulled her warhammer from her belt, and raised her shield. Chanting and singing, the cleric spun protections around the small group, placing a ward on each of them. Brac’ar used his skill with the arcane teachings, the air filling with a sense of imminent danger as their enemy came towards them.
  What the three saw before them was not meant for mortal eyes…An army of trolls was charging forward at a pace unfit for such large and bulky creatures. Crude weapons were lifted in to the air, ready for battle, ready for death. Their stench filled the swamps, so much more than you would normally expect from such a place. And in the very front, a dark figured shaman upon a great snarling wolf, three times the size of any other. Around his head a halo of ruddy light crackled, and in his hand was a mace of bone, adorned with the heads of men.
  Gotak’s face creased in a smile, and he turned his head to grin at Rev and Brac’ar. His face was that of a madman, his knuckles white as his fingers were clenched tighter and tighter around the haft of his axe. His left foot was inching unnoticed into a position from which he could lunge forward at an instant’s notice. The dwarf turned his face up to the sky for a moment, closing his eyes and preparing mentally for the battle to come. He sniffed air deeply into his lungs, filling them until it felt that they would burst. The air rushed out with a great snort, and he wiped his beard with his free hand.
  “It’s a good day to die. And I don’t need this, by the way.”
  With a quick gesture he tore off a small necklace with protections from death on it, a ward Reventage had placed on him. Before thepriestess could say a word, Gotak exploded forward in a headlong rush that took his companions by surprise.
  “Crazy dwarf!”
  Was the last that Brac’ar had the time to say before his arcane fury was unleashed upon the trolls. Reventage scooped up the abandoned ward from the ground and sprinted after the slayer.
  He was running, as fast as he ever had, with only one thing in his mind. He would take these trolls with him into his grave; his death would not be in vain. His axe was perfectly balanced just for that first stroke, and he told himself that he would take the shaman with him at the very least. Gotak raced up a small hill and jumped from it out into the air, seconds before the troll army closed in on him. The stocky dwarf sailed through the air like a trebuchet spear just before impact.
  In the instant before Gotak landed, Brac’ar’s flames engulfed the frontline in a churning sea of fire…everything burning, everything red and scorching. The last of him that Rev and Brac’ar saw was Gotak charging into the midst of burning trolls, the words bellowed out from the chaos:
  “Deathwards are for pansies!”

  … Hours later …

  The swamps were eerily quiet. Reventage was frantically searching burning piles of sliced troll for her friend. The wizard was even beginning to get nervous—perhaps this had been too much even for Gotak.
  In that moment, Brac’ar saw him around the other side of a tree, standing on the corpse of a troll. Blood flowed heavily from his appalling wounds, and his body was slumped forward, held upright only with the support of his axe. Gotak turned to look at Reventage and Brac’ar, both of them standing there with their faces blank in shock. Rev could see that one of his eyes was missing, torn from its socket in the battle. The dwarf staggered once dizzily, and again, and then fell forward. He slowly, painfully tried to pull himself upright, the words escaping his mouth along with the blood.
  “You missed a good fight…Trolls are the most cowardly of all, you kill their leader and the rest turn tail and run. But I had to kill a score or so of them before they agreed…”
  Reventage looked at the shaman’s bone staff beneath Gotak’s body, seeing the hand and most of the arm still attached it, where it had been cleaved from its owner by a vicious axe.
  “Strangest thing, I can’t seem to stand up.”
  Gotak closed his eyes and lay very still.

The tunnels were coated as the blackest night. The distant sounds of bats swarming around were the only sign of a passage ahead. Gotak lived most of his life above ground, so the sensation of the underground was new to him. Despite that, his dwarven blood kept him strangely at ease deep below in the dark caverns. His torch had burned out hours ago, but his senses seemed as sharp as they had always been, and he felt more and more comfortable in his surroundings with each passing step.
  He thought that this must have been how the old king of the Stonehammers, Lars, must have felt when he crept himself down to the Stonehammers water supply to rid his clan of the drakes. All alone in the dark, nothing but might and axe, or in Lars’ case, hammer to fend off dangers, and make sure his head didn’t run into the roof. Gotak began to feel the tunnel descend at a steep pace, and the floor where it had been all dry before, begin to grow damp, becoming more slippery.
   It all happened suddenly, a loose rock, a wet surface, and Gotak began to slide down the rugged uneven floor faster and faster. He tried reaching out for a rock, a handle, anything that could slow him down, but his hands went through the muddy surroundings banging into everything sharp along the way. Then there was suddenly nothing; no floor, no sharp rocks, no grip. He fell for perhaps five seconds, before plunging into the dark water of an underground lake below him. For a moment he was confused and wasn’t sure what was up and down in the dark, and he began to swim down. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glimpse of light, a flicker of nuance. He immediately began to swim toward the color that stood out in the otherwise total blackness. It brought him to the surface. His lungs exploded with air as he breached the surface, and he felt life fill him again. He shook his head a few times before orienting himself. The small light was clearer once he focused on it, and he could see two orcs on the shore looking out over the dark lake. Gotak sealed his lips, he was in no position to do anything, and the orcs could easily kill him out here if they wanted to. A flock of bats flew low over his head, totaling in the hundreds. In their tumult they banged against the ceiling in the small cave, A few rocks fell down into the water, making splashes and a lot of noise.
  The orcs seemed to be satisfied, and decided to go near the campfire again to eat. Gotak used this time to swim further ashore, and verify that his greataxe remained secured to his wrist. He had mud all over himself, and could easily have been mistaken for a living piece of the lake. It could be said that perhaps that was why the orcs didn’t notice the two hundred pounds of dwarf sneaking up behind them. The mud all around made kept his armor from clanking, and his footsteps were muffled by the soft lakebed swallowing his feet and the sound along with it. He was perhaps ten feet from one of the orcs, when he raised his axe to full height and jumped forward.
  The axe fell heavy on the unsuspecting orc’s head, and it cracked open like a ripe melon. The other orc was caught by surprise and Gotak used this time to wrestle his axe free from the first orc’s head, and then back swung it into the side of the other orc. The axe fell low, right above the left thigh, and the orc fell to the side screaming and writhing in pain. It desperately tried to reach for its axe that lay close to where it was sitting, but it was just out of reach. It looked up for a second, and the last thing it saw was the great axe’s blade flinging toward its head. Gotak sat up, exhausted by the sudden action in the midst of all this walking in the tunnel and the swimming from the lake, and grunted happily. He saw that the orcs had prepared a stew of something he couldn’t quite recognize. His stomach’s rumbling however, happily accepted the meal, regardless of what it was.
  Before he could slice a side of the meat, he heard a sudden roar from behind, and instinctively turned around. His axe just barely deflected the violent charge from a third orc. Somehow it must have been in the back of the camp, where Gotak hadn’t looked, and the death of its two kin, must have awoken it. The charge took Gotak backward, and he fell to his back, the orc atop him, its weight pushing him into the soft lakebed. All the while an axe inched dangerously closer and closer to his throat. The orc hissed and spat, its foul breath smelling of a thousands bad ales left to rot. The orc clawed and continued to push Gotak into the mud, and the dwarf in fact almost felt relived when the mud covered his entire face, so he wouldn’t be able to smell its breath anymore.
  Gotak suddenly realized that the charge had knocked all the wind out of him, and his stomach burned from the impact, his lungs screaming for air. He could not stay under for much longer. With both hands on his axe, fending off the orcs axeblade, he managed to free his right hand, so he could lift it out of the mud. He felt around the orcs face, its mouth snapping ferociously. With an utter display of pure survival instinct, using the last resources of his strength, Gotak drove his thumb into the orcs eye, and kept pushing, until the orc loosened its grip and staggered backwards, dizzy from the bloodloss. Gotak rolled to the side, managing to get himself out of the hole, and used the axeshaft to hit the orc right in the throat, while it stood there halfblind. The orc gasped for air, clutching its hands to its neck. Gotak quickly reversed the axe and swung it forward; upward in a half circular motion, slicing orc in half. Gotak puffed and spat the last of the mud out from his mouth, and leaned on his axe to look at the dead orc. He adjusted his eyepatch over his eye, and spat once on the dead orc, then sat near the fire to get some well-deserved food.
   After an hour or two where Gotak had spent the time cleaning his axe, and sharpening it, he stood up, and looked to a small tunnel that led away from the campsite and away from the underground lake. His stomach was full, and he had drunk some of the ale he had brought from home mixed up with whiskey. It had done the trick, and he was almost painless from the heavy encounter a few hours before. He took a small rag and wet it with some oil that was lying close to the camp, then began to wound it around a big stick and stuffed it into the fire. Armed with his greataxe in one hand and a source of light, he proceeded forward, determined to find the cause of this orc infestation.
  After a few hours of walking he came to a fork in the tunnels, and he began to see signs of orc living quarters, as he could tell by the stench and the many crude barracks that were around. He quickly doused his torch in a nearby water container, and proceeded to move forward very quietly. He could hear a distant chanting, almost as if someone was singing. It didn’t sound like any sound Gotak had ever listened to before in his life. It felt evil and tainted, almost as if the words crept into him, gripping at him from the inside, knowing he was there. He shook off his fear of this mysterious sound, and began to move in the direction he heard the chanting from. All the while walked, puzzled as to why there were no orcs in these tunnels, and living quarters. He would have at least thought there would be guards to protect this place.
  Before he could finish that thought he could feel a greatsword slicing through the air, and he reversed his stance and hammered his greataxe into the dark with all his might. It hit something soft, and an orc fell out of an alcove into the tunnel. Gotak cursed his thinking, and realized that the orc had been guarding in silence to protect whatever he was heading toward. He wrestled himself free from the orc corpse and began to be more cautious in his exploration.
   After a few more tunnels he saw a glow at the end of the one where the chanting was resonating. He lurched forward as sneaky as a dwarf could be, and he entered a large circular room, where a single great orc adorned with skulls. A glowing staff stood in the center chanting the song he had heard before. All around him were orcs that stood kneeled over, almost in a trance like state. He could see five, perhaps six orc guards that stood around the strange display of ritual. He hesitated a little in moving forward, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he inched his way forward to a place where he had a view of the entire scenery. The orc in the middle seemed to be a shaman of some sort, his eyes red with the dark magic uttered in this place.
  All of a sudden the chanting stopped, and the shaman yelled out in a foul language that made Gotak’s blood freeze in his veins. The orcs, kneeling over in the circle, seemed to wake, and they all took out small crude blades from their sides, and held it across their hearts. As the shaman raised his arms, so did the orcs with the blade in their hand, and when the shaman lowered his, the orcs drove the blades into their chests. Not a sound was heard except for the falling of bodies, and the trickling of blood flowing from the orcs onto the floor. The floor was shaped in a pattern that seemed to lead the blood into the center, where it collected itself in a large bowl. Gotak leaned forward to get a better view of the spectacle when his foot touched a loose rock that slid to the bottom of the room. The shaman instantly raised his eyes toward Gotak, and the dwarf tried desperately to hide.
  The shaman screamed a command to the guards and all rushed to the top of the room to meet the intruder. Gotak rose himself as fast as he could, and prepared himself for the fight. The orc that was nearest him raised its primitive weapon to strike at Gotak, but Gotak dodged under it with amazing agility and struck upwards with his axe, into the orcs belly. Two more orcs was replaced their fallen comrade, as Gotak took the dead orcs blade and threw it against them. The first orc ducked under the blade swirling in the air, so it hit the orc behind it in the throat. Gotak lunged forward to meet the orc head-on. The dwarf swung his axe, but had found himself in awkward position and the axe missed the orc by mere inches. The orc responded by throwing itself onto Gotak and pushing down upon the dwarf. He could see that two more orcs were nearing, so he did the only thing he could: he took his axe around the orcs neck, and rolled over the small ledge they were fighting on. The drop was a good 20 feet, but Gotak was lucky to land on top of the big orc. With his axe behind the orc’s head as they fell, the axe had buried itself into it neck. He could see that the other orc on the ledge hurried down to intercept him.
  The shaman was not more than 10 feet from him at this point, and he could see that he began to speak words of magic, and pointed a finger at Gotak. A lightning bolt exploded from the orcs finger, and only because Gotak was still near the orcs corpse did he manage to avoid it. The lightning bolt hit the dead orc, and the smell of burnt flesh saturated the room. The other orcs were almost down, and one of them decided to jump the last 3 feet to attack Gotak with an airborne attack.
  Gotak simply raised his axe, planted his foot in the ground, and dug it in deep. The orc fell onto Gotak sharp axe and fell limp instantaneously. The weight pushed Gotak to the ground, as he struggled clear his axe of the dead orc. When he came up on his feet again, he saw the last two orcs screaming and howling with a frenzy he had seen so many times before. He decide to run against the orcs at full speed, and that seemed to cause the orc so much confusion that Gotak began to run up its chest. As the orc fell backward from the weight of Gotak he set off in a jump with his axe aimed for the orc behind it. At that moment he felt the air cackle again, and he saw from the corner of his eye the orc shaman fire a lightning bolt again, but this time it hit a live orc, the one he had just jumped from. The orc seemed to stand still for a moment, and then fell completely backward.
  The second orc had no view of what was going on, and wasn’t ready for Gotak flying through the air with his axe. The orc fell dead from the axe planted in its head. Gotak stood over its dead corpses and breathed heavily, as he tore his axe free. With the look of a madman he turned his attention to the shaman. The shaman pulled a small knife from an inner pocket in his tattered robes. He raised it over his chest, and before Gotak could act he drove it into his own chest. Gotak was stunned; he had not thought it would be this easy to kill that orc. He almost felt a little disappointed. As he walked toward the orc shaman, he could see the blood from its chest flow into the small bowl in the middle, when suddenly the entire room began to shake.
  The center of the room cracked, all the blood draining into the hole that opened up. Gotak jumped to one of the sides as fast as he could, narrowly avoiding the entire collapse of the floor. Flames began to rise from the pit that was under the floor. Heat rose into the air. It felt as if the entire room was ablaze from this hole. Gotak pulled up a rusty shield to ward himself from the worst of the flames, when all of the as suddenly as it had started the fire died.
  Gotak peeked from beyond the shield, and before him stood a Demon, a balor no doubt. Its flaming wings still gave off the heat he had felt before. The demon hissed at Gotak, and Gotak tossed the shield to his side. He raised his axe, and spoke to it in a dwarven tongue and the runes along the shaft and head lit up; the axe engulfed in flames. The demon began to move closer to Gotak, pulling itself a mighty greatsword adorned with skulls and runes that were a pain to even look at. Gotak smiled abit to himself, as he began to run toward the demon, with his axe raised and a war cry that echoed through the halls. This was the end for the orcs, the only thing that stood before him and victory was this demon.
  The demon took to flight and flew around the room in circles, hovering over Gotak. Gotak yelled at it to come down and fight, and almost at command the balor dived toward Gotak, Gotak used the dead orcs on the ground as a point to get height, and with his axe lifted in front of him, he yelled:
   “Deathward is fer pansies!”.    Seconds after, Gotak and the balor clashed together and both fell into the dark hole, fighting and screaming. You could hear them both exchanging blows in the dark pit. After a time the only sound to be heard was the light flicker of the torches in the room.


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