Neb An Dee Armor
After Neb be killing fire monkey, word of him spread to Goblyn tribes, scattered an hiding in dark places across dee world. His name be whispered in forests an holes an caves, an Goblyns is telling old stories of dee glory of ancient Nezzar, but only a few is courageous enough to set out on dee long journey to dee valley an volcano.
Still, some begin to trickle into valley, an Goblyns of Nezzar be busy, tearing up earth, knocking down trees an biting stone from dee mountains to raise walls an towers for new city, rising tall an defiant in shadow of firey mountain. Many litters is born, Goblyn numbers swell, an sound of hammers pound air as Goblyns prepare for war again.
But through all dis Neb be distracted, pacing his den atop Baron’s Tower, surrounded by noise an activity, an Goblyns going in an out wanting instruction, orders, permission to do this or that. He speak, but not seem to pay much attention. Baltasar step in an oversee building of city an Goblyn power, but wonder what be on Neb’s mind. He soon find out. One night he awake with a start to find Neb standing over him. Neb’s torch make dee shadows dance in dee small room, an turn dee pits of his taut, sunken face into black caverns. He have long iron chain wrapped across one shoulder, waterskins hanging from his belt, an fire monkey’s fur slung across his narrow back.
“Neb! What is it?”
“Follow me, Baltasar, we is going up dee mountain.”
Baltasar know better than to ask why, so he follow Neb in silence. They pass through heart of new city, which still be churning, even in dee depths of night, an out through dee heavy gates an huge walls that be rising from stumps of dee forest. Neb’s pace quicken as they reach they slopes of dee mountain, an they at dee top when sun’s first light begin to sneak into dee sky.
Neb speak. “When I fighting fire monkey, I see stairs leading down into throat of volcano, an every night since I dream of them. There be voices calling to me, ancient voices, heavy with age. Some older den Nezzar, some older den dis mountain an valley, some voices from begining of dee world, I think.” They standing at edge of volcano, below them be dee rocky bowl, an lava boiling. “See.” he point. “There they be.” Baltasar look, an far below them he see steps, worn an black, jutting from rock. Most be gone, dee rest be crumbling, they vanish into black crevase. There come a rumbling, from dee deep chest of volcano, dee lava leap an wind rush up into their faces, twisting with heat. “Listen Baltsar! Can you hear dem? Dey is whispering to me, no, dey is screaming!”
Baltasar shield his face from dee mountain’s furious breath. He look at Neb. Neb’s hair be swept back, teeth bared, eyes matching dee mountain with fire of their own. “Neb, I don’t know if you should go down there, it so hot!”
Neb turn an look at him an grin. “Is it? I not feel it.” He place chain on dee rock, pull out a huge iron spike, an pound it deep into stone with three blows. Neb take a long drink of water an den pour it over him, wrapping himself in fire monkey skin. He toss chain over dee edge, it bounce off steps an vanish into blackness. He lean over edge an prepare to climb down, but pause. When he speak again, his voice be a whisper. “Baltasar. Great enemies wait for us. They not going to suffer Nezzar to grow, there not be a single race or nation on dis earth that will suffer us to live in strength. If I not come back, it mean I not dee Goblyn we need. If that happen, then be wise. Lead Goblyns with care, don’t let them be crushed, but most of all, don’t let them be cowards.” Then he slip over dee edge, an climb down to steps. He look back up once, to where Baltasar stand, arms shielding his face from crippling heat, before descending from sight.
The deeper he go, the hotter it be, until the water hiss an boil from his skin, an dee rocks around him glow with fire. Still he walk on, until his clothes is all turned to ash on his body, except dee fire monkey fur. Still, he touch dee stone an it feel no more den warm to him. Deeper he go, an carvings begin to appear on steps an walls. Ancient Goblyn runes, symbols of khadines an tribes, heroes long dead. He feel old magics, tired but dangerous, reaching out for him, then sliding off his skin like cold fat.
Finally he step onto a stone floor, a floor not made by Goblyns, a floor in a room so massive it stretch beyond his sight, into dee darkness, deep in heart of volcano. Pillars reach up around him, some cracked an broken, other untouched by time. All about him is strewn bones of Goblyns in armor, their shields hanging above them, each marked with dee burning mountain of Nezzar or dee flaming swirl of Skribbet. All dee Kings an Khadines of Nezzar, from ancient days until it fall. He walk deeper into room, until dee shields be crumbled to dust, and dee armor be stains of rust on dee ground. Dee voices whisper. I defend Nezzar from elfies from beyond dee sea . . . I end civil wars an unite Nezzar again . . . I send Goblyns out to conquer, an burn, an take back what be ours . . . I kill Goblyns for sport, I laugh as they beg my mercy, I make us hard an fearless . . . Who you is? What you do? Why you here? Different voices, from deeper an deeper past, all asking him dee same questions, voices growing fainter with age. Finally he reach other end of room, an face a great wall, set with gigantic thrones, with symbols set in glowing gold, silver, an jewels above them. Neb recongnize them. Symbol of elfie gods, of dwarves, of orks, of hu-mans, an in dee center, great Arm of Marjak. Before them all, an empty suit of armor stand, holding sword and shield. It be solid metal, rough hewn, black as coal, a stern helm with a gash in dee forehead, a gash like an eye, an a faint green glow spill from it.
As Neb watch, eyes ignite within helm. A voice speak, rocking dee mountain around, them, burning with power an ancient majesty. I lead Goblyns since time began . . . I lead them in wisdom, I guide them in war . . . I last of Goblyns, as we were . . . I lead us in last war . . . I stand before gods an defy them . . . I never died.
Neb slowly sink to his knees as he realize where he be, an who speak to him. “Reth . . .”
Yes. And you be Neb u Khad Nezzar, King of dee Goblyns. Take dee armor, Neb. Too long has Melashekhaad’s gift sat in these halls, staring at bones. Take dee weapons he gave to me when Goblyns was young an world new an wondrous. Remind Goblyns who they be. Remind dee WORLD who we be, write it with fire an terror on dee cities of those who oppressed us, carve out dee story of an ancient fury reborn at last.
Neb stand, and walk to dee armor, he put his head against dee helm an look into Reth’s eyes. “I will write that story, Reth, so big dee world sees, an understands.”
Reth laugh. I know you will. Perhaps too much.
Neb bare his teeth. “I not believe there be such a thing.” With that he grasp hilt of Reth’s sword and unsheath it. A shriek of metal that echo through dee hall, dee very place where Marjak an dee gods sat in judgement of Reth after his last battle, dee seat of ancient Empire, where Milashekhaan reach down to Earth an take Reth away, crushing dee gods’ physical bodies on their golden thrones, cracking dee stone foundations of entire city with dee weight of his presence, and raising a burning mountain where once dee proudest city of all dee ages stood.
When Neb climb out of dee volcano, there stand a Goblyn, in long robes, tattoos of dee Goblyn gods covering her face, with staff in her hand. She smile an speak. “An from that day fire was as nothing to him. He bore dee ancient weapons again, to dee terror of dee whole world. Hail Neb u Khad Nezzar, Forever King of dee Goblynz.”