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Rise of the Beasts.
From the shadows Knox could see the pale human laughing with his other adventurer friends, his disgusting pale skin glowing by the fire. About twenty metres away he saw more of his green skinned kind piled in a corner, slaughtered again for the amusement of these surface dwellers, they had not even bothered to loot the corpses or take their teeth.
Slinking over the rock pile like a cat following a sparrow, he moved noiselessly towards the group. No more. This had to stop, the endless butchering of the sub-dwellers.
He had spoken to the Hobgoblins, who were kind enough to beat him within an inch of his life and laugh at his proposal before throwing him in an underground lake to enable his escape. The Ogres…well... he shuddered remembering Graxax being eaten before he could even talk to the muscled beasts, probably best not to try again then, unless he found another Graxax he smiled.
It seemed he would need another to aid him and by all that Maglubiyet, god of war to the goblins, could have produced, he saw his avatar.
The noise was not subtle he thought, a bit like pouring gravel down a rocky slope while sloshing blood in a bucket and banging a drum, at least that is how Knox perceived the Minotuar as it entered the cave bellowing like the end of times was nigh and then starting to cleave the party to pieces with an axe so large Knox knew he would never be strong enough to move it, let alone wave it around like a hatchet. Drooling slightly at the carnage and starting to get excited himself, his own goblin blood running hot at the destruction of the invaders, he calmed himself enough to wait and watch.
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The next words he heard made his toothy jaw slack. Shoving a rough clawed finger into his ear to clean the dirt from it, he waited again, not wanting to be a meal. Again, the Minotaur called out….. in goblin of all languages and he wanted to talk.
Using all his cunning, he tried to throw his voice as he had many times across the cave, only to have the beast look to his right, sniff to his left and then stomp his massive frame in his direction. It was this time that Knox wondered where he would find another loincloth for the one had on would surely need replacing now.
Looking up at the massive beast, he could not help but notice the remains of a hand being chewed in its massive maw. The beast then said the words he thought he would never hear. I need your help.
The Plan
Thankful he was not currently being digested, Knox walked somewhat bravely back into the gloom. His eyes cut the darkness with ease and he wondered if this was just another trick his short life would be the finale to in some short time ahead. The thumping hoof beats behind him a reminder of his mortality.
A trade it seemed, food and ores for protection, that sounded fair enough.
He called the goblins in his tribe together and told them he had found their protector and his name was Mithas Es-Mithas.
Pointing his jagged stone knife at the horned beast, he yelled in his scratchy tongue “The rise of the beasts is now!”.
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The End is the Beginning (a background or prequel if you will, basically some time before now).
The Endless Maze, an infinite mix of tunnels, passageways, corridors, crawlspaces and occasionally open spaces. Home to Baphomet. Prince of Beasts.
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Thousands have entered the maze, though none have escaped unless Baphomet wills it. The Lost, those souls who are left to wander until they give up hope, or are hunted for fun by the horned ogres, toothed beasts or in some instances by the Minotaurs of the Material Plane, brought to the maze at Baphomets beckoning.
Numerous Minotaur tribes inhabit the maze, those who crow more favour, being closest to Baphomets Tower of Science. Some are chosen as warriors personally and those who survive his orders or quests are rarely on occasion chosen as a Warlord, destined to hunt the corridors and passageways keeping the walls soaked in blood and the fires of chaos stoked with war.
Sniffing out his prey and moving with one purpose, Mithas could see through the gloom the lesser devils taking the Lost for their own purposes. He cared not, this was his territory, his area of the maze gifted to him solely by the fact he appeared there from the Material Plane, an area of the Abyss he would call home. With unfettered fury he closed the distance to the beaked, horned and winged creatures cleaving them asunder with wanton blood lust. The pitiful souls of mortals died where they stood from fear or screamed soundlessly unmoving, until they too were cleaved to pieces by the massive two bladed axe.
Tearing off a limb for sustenance he wandered back to his herd, those he ruled over if violence and wanton fighting could be called ruling.
When he came to the opening he did not see the horns of his allies, nor their bodies, but a dark shadow, an area of nothing it seemed, so dark was it that it seemed to draw his very eyesight into it’s depth, forcing him to look away before returning his gaze.
Movement, finally something he could focus on, though he soon wished he could not. The Marilith appeared slowly at first, it’s female upper body and six arms, each holding a wicked blade, the body being driven along by a snake like lower form strong enough to scar the marbled floor.
Knowing he was beaten before he would move, he did the one thing he thought the demon would not expect, he charged rather than ran. A faint smile appearing at the edge of the demons mouth showed it was indeed taken aback, not from fear though, but from the reckless attempt to kill it by the eight foot tall brute of a Minotaur in front of it.
One blade bit deep into Mithas’s shoulder, another into his thigh, a third cut into one side of his forearm and out the other and as simply as that he was thrown into the dark. Banished from the realm he had known for so many years.
The Beginning.
The cave was dark, no opening was present to let light in though, some guttered from a nearby flaming torch on the wall. He sat up, looking at his arm, the massive muscled forearm, scarred by healed cut upon healed cut, but no fresh wound, he checked his shoulder and thigh, both the same. His thick hide, like a living platemail that puny humans wore to protect themselves too afraid to fight in their own skin, seemed healed.
He stood and saw his axe leaning against the wall, fully a hundred and fifty pounds in weight, the wicked two sided head made from some unknown metal, he picked it up, the familiar haft fitting to his massive hand. Adjacent to it was a note written in large Abyssal letters “Feast on the mortals, eat the elves, rally the under races, sew chaos on this place, your new temporary home, Thain”.
Sniffing the air, he ground his teeth, he could smell kobolds ahead which was good as he was hungry. The hunt was on.
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Lesser Races
The odd thing about the lesser races, the humans, dwarves and elvish scum is they were always scheming, thinking of ways to get power, to make themselves more than they were, never living in the now.
The difference with the Beasts is they usually live in the now, never worrying about petty squabbles. This was mainly due to those getting in power often being cut down by their own kind who were not in power, or being hunted by the lesser races when they became a target due to their own increasing power making the endless circle turn.
The Isle
One thing Mithas found out quickly while wandering the Isle, was the lesser races were none too friendly, with the exception of the Half-Orc clan. He saw many of them as food, possibly a reason for their animosity, though he did not think it could be solely that, many beasts ate each other, why not the lesser races, so he shrugged off that thought as absurd.
The endless fighting he craved due to his upbringing was never ending, however, since leaving the Endless Maze he had found he was able to curb his thirst somewhat, from joining some of those on the Isle or just from being released he was not sure.
The beauty of the Isle was there was an endless supply of food it seemed. The lesser races seemingly intent on throwing themselves on his axe.
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An unfortunate incident within one farm was met with significant resistance though, one he should have paid more attention to, though the company of the one called Kallista had him sidetracked and the meat was free and fresh.
Green Tide
Some of the Beasts on the Isle it seemed were picked on constantly by the lesser races. Though at first he had no care for the yipping screeching green horde, eventually a goblin by the name of Knox near the feeding grounds known as the Crossroads, had changed his tune. A pact was made and he was told to seek out the Iron Clan.
The Iron Clan were far more formidable than their brethren in the south, Beasts worth fighting for. He decided he would try to make a pact with these too. Warning were placed and those stupid enough to venture in the cave were dealt with in a way he understood too well, a warning, which if ignored was met with dinner.
The gamble seemed to pay off and a meeting was made with a goblin of the likes he had never encountered, Grella. Old and with milky eyes, her stature exuded power beyond any he had seen in their kind. A bargain was made and upheld. The deal done he now walked the halls freely providing protection to those within.
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The winding caves
Time passed and it seemed the message was getting across to the bands of adventurers in the area. The Beasts had had enough of being hunted. The pact upheld by Knox was working well and there had been more instances of the goblins being left alone which is how they liked it. However, one facet Mithas had not been prepared for was the sudden uprising in confidence when their numbers remain unchecked, much like a wolf will not hunt a deer on it’s own unless desperate, but add a pack and it’s confidence is tenfold.
So too the goblins seemed to have their new found freedom (of sorts) without fear of being beaten to a messy pulp and their meager goods taken. Knox told Mithas this could not go unchecked though, as instead of being left alone the goblins would likely rise as they had in the north, though this would just lead to the lesser races gathering up in superior numbers and culling them, quite significantly, which was unacceptable.
A plan was made, and during the night some of those who had decided they should move on the lesser races found themselves neatly arranged one on top of another looking towards the outside world permanently, their heads held fixed by the massive pole jammed through their skulls as a warning to others both outside and in.
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Alea iacta est. *
With the bugbears fighting to the north, the poisonwood elves to the south, the dwarves staying out of everything from what he could see cowering in their mountain, attention had sadly been pushed his way by the most pitiful of the lesser races, the humans. Being blamed for an incident that was more of an accident than a deliberate act of violence like those he so enjoyed, Mithas had decided to speak with others who ruled over Beasts on the Isle to give warning.
Many of those he tried to treat with, met with hostile intent as was to be expected and he reveled in the fight, the pure joy of testing his wits and his body against those who would not listen unless met with his “kuzzabx ucx” in the Abyssal language he was used to, or “massive axe” in the tongue of the lay common folk.
However, some saw prudence in a parley with a Beast heading a warning to others.
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Whether they would heed the warning that the lesser races had decided to have him hunted and they were going to likely be next, would be up to them, though he suspected they would make provisions against such an attack should it come.
Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.**
The Hellshire Orcs, some humans oddly, a dark elf and some of the other lesser races had not shown hostile intent towards him, some even wrestling to pass the time. Surveying the valley before him he wondered if the Kralshaman and the other half elf he had met were correct and he should try something totally unfamiliar to him and it seemed pointless, diplomacy.
Gripping his axe tightly and strapping some leather made from some unfortunate soul around his massive fist for protection, he looked down into the valley full of those who needed rending and charged as fast as his bulk would carry him. Roaring a battle cry, a sound not unlike the low rumble of thunder mixed with the screams of a drow torture pen, he smashed and crashed down the slope with three other minotaurs alongside him each carrying a wicked weapon intend on untamed savagery.
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A silence broken only by an occasional moan and the crackle of meat cooking, he looked at the huge gash on his thigh he was jamming grass and herbs into to seal. He did not know if seconds, minutes or hours had passed during the battle such was his enjoyment of the fight. Cossax Es-Cossax had fallen, one of the lesser warriors with him, lesser only through age though, not due to his lack of trying. Surveying the scene of carnage and eating some of his spoils he decided he would try diplomacy, though he would try it on his terms, “Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo”.
*(“ The die is cast”) **(“If I cannot move Heaven, I will Raise Hell”)
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Khaos
So far the pact with the goblins had held well. Grella though not seen often was wise beyond her kinds normal manner and it seemed could be trusted, though her long term goal was unknown. He would continue to protect the Goblins and oddly had become tolerant of Knox whom he would have normally eaten, actually liking the way he would sneak up on his foes backs during battle stabbing at them with his dagger, his little squeaky voice rising and falling with glee.
His battles with the mortals seemed to go on for better or worse and it appeared that some actively hunted him now, probably for their pleasure, such was their simple minded thinking, knowing nothing of pacts or treaties. No matter, the beasts were rising, soon the lesser races egos would bite off more than they could chew. However, getting Ogres to parlay with Gnolls had been difficult, mainly due to his hatred of Gnolls and the Ogres eating them, though on occasion there had been progress and a formidable raiding party had formed, the Gnoll archers weakening the enemy before the hammer that was the Ogre berserkers crushed them to pulp, their mages finishing the rest.
It was time to talk to the giants.He would need gold for that and he knew just where to get it.
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In Abyssum irent
Mithas looked at the fur on the floor of his lair, it grew back rapidly on his scarred hide, mainly due to his impressive constitution, but also he thought due to the magic of the stones being short lived. Looking up at the shrine and pile of rift stones he had collected in his lair he wondered if Baphomet would ever hear his call or perhaps he would be ignored once again. The arrival of the rift golem by Hamley was a good sign though, perhaps it would venture south and destroy the hovel once and for all, he laughed picking up a stone and feeling the pain course up his arm. What reward is there without some risk he pondered.
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He had eaten some of the stone once, though had instantly regretted it, his insides burning like the belly of a balor for weeks. Even though he had eventually got over the agony, he was not stupid enough to try again, for a while anyway.
Weeks had been spent watching the riftstone in a cave, though apart from occasional creatures spawning from the rift sometimes being different in their shape, not much changed. He would see what he could do perhaps to open another chasm if he collected enough rubble, though maybe it did not work like that? Perhaps others had tried?
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The Iron City it seemed were intent on closing the rift, their short sightedness missing the potential for power they could gain by such chaos being unleashed and driving south forcing others to fight it. No matter he pondered, piling more rubble along the wall. Perhaps they were right, or perhaps they were more goodly that they thought they were, he shrugged caring little and hefting the last piece of rubble into a pile. Into the Abyss he thought as he walked along the passageways back towards the light of the ground above.
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Libris Autem Bestia
The meeting was long and his belly growled, a fire burned in it he had not felt for a while, perhaps riftstone, perhaps not. The pact with the drow was made and it was a disappointing outcome, the weak minded dark food gave nothing more than insults and fancy words, the tasks were completed and Mithas felt hollow, he should have known better than to trust an elf, let alone one of those who tasted bitter when he ate them.
The Thayan was an enigma. Strahn. Decisive and to the point, odd for one of the lesser races. He liked his company, his smell was similar to well preserved leather and acid, an odd mix to be sure. He was blunt like a hammer to the head, but clever like a viper waiting to strike. He had many options and had provided a way to free the minotaur slaves yet kill the unworthy, the chattel who deserved less than life. He was one to watch and maybe one to follow until his worth was filled in raising the army of beasts.
The lesser races, scum had seen him in town as he had found the book he sought. The goblin who promised him invisibility looked back at him with blank eyes his head stuck on the skull pole outside Knox’s cave, his potion clearly not up to the standard he wanted. He had become visible in the slum known as Steinkres, which was unfortunate as he had to leave before the deal was fully done, but two had followed him to the hovel and he needed the book. The sign a distraction as he left unnoticed with the magical stone.
A book.
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Now just to find one who can help with it. Perhaps the Ogre mage once more? Then to see which leaders must fall, the elf queen it sounded like would be gone soon anyway, then there was always the dwarf.
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He passed word to Knox’s messenger to find someone who knew about books and find him soon.
The Half Orc. Human or Orc?
The Kralshaman had spoken with Mithas at length in the camp. It seemed the Fey would not tolerate his presence there any longer, which made being there annoying, though pixies were sweet to eat they had strong followers and were successful spies.
More Human or more Orc? That was the question that burned in his mind. He was a formidable ally, more so than any other he had met on the Island, though the news he gave him more recently made him wonder what his end goal was. He had spoken at length with Grella and the Queen it seemed, yet this was the first he had heard about it from either giving him cause for concern. Perhaps the pact with Knox was stronger than the one with Grella? He often sat watching the sappers blowing things up, themselves, others or those that raided the Iron Clan. Maybe it was time to get the goblins organised to show strength to the slaves he freed to the north. He had bought more than forty minotaurs from the Dragons Watch slaver and freed as many in raids on his caravans. Each time he handed over coins, he showed mercy to the slaves and when he freed them he expected loyalty. Soon a tribe would form. Then he would move, and move he would.
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Infected
Humans. The bane of the realms, they distort magic for their own gains, cut down the forests to build their wretched cities, broker deals then break them on a whim. They are worse than the rats of the beast world, at least the rats were civilised, had a purpose and knew their place.
The stench was bad here he thought as his axe sliced the limb off another creature. Leatherwings he had heard the half orc call them. Wretched foul smelling things, diseased apparently, and not worth eating, though some still looked good to him.
They could fight though, tough and with magic they could throw like giants threw rocks.
Quiet. Too quiet. There was no sound. The powerful half orc said it was time to leave his magical wards would wear off soon and Mithas longed to have the power they gave him last longer.
The next doorway they took changed that, the slathering creatures they had fought before spoke, but this time they spoke directly to him, not at him. A Minotaur no less, one of his own though changed somehow, powerful enough to be one of Baphomets champions he thought. And three others, a witch, an archer and a fallen knight, kneeling offered to him by the Minotaur to feed on. The Kralshaman said it was a bad idea, but the Minotaur made sense, great power to eat the witch, what was wrong with that deal?
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The sorceress was ripped to pieces and devoured hungrily while still moving, though with no resistance, Mithas’s staggering fortitude consuming the infected bitter flesh like any other mortal he had eaten. With the exception of the riftstone fragments he had eaten, he had yet to find a spoiled meat that would turn his stomach.
The Deal
Bring the infected humans, the willing ones would be left in the labs for Mother, whoever that was, those unwilling would be eaten. The infected said they would scour the humans from Thain and then they would scour them from the realm. A grand vision he thought, though improbable and likely to result in his death. Shrugging he looked up at the banner of five and remembered the book. “Return of the Beast” .
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The Beast will make slaves of the five crowns. He snorted, smiled and left with the Kralshaman, who shook his head and said nothing good will come of this. He was probably right.
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A Less than simple task.
Slaves were easy to come by if you knew where to look or had the right skills, or sometimes just brute force. However, as was becoming apparent, willing human followers not so much. The promise of an eternal life from an unknown entity being offered to you by a hulking Minotaur clearly not the best of sales ideas.
Patience was not really a strong point in his life, but Mithas had been shown how it could be useful by Jizt and others, a tool to be used when brute force was not enough, one he cared little for and used even less. Waiting for the right time to strike, knowing there were no others around and under a cloak of darkness, he attacked the caravan with speed, first cutting the spooked horses reins and then cutting them free from the harness. The nobles caravan lurched to a halt. The goblins who had joined him in the raid, their cowardice fuelled by Knox’s apparent rise in stature by being close to Mithas, stabbed the guards with fearsome alacrity. The cries of the nobles inside quietened soon enough when the roof of the caravan was torn off, its contents open for all to see. Humans, and lots of them by the size of the caravan.
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An opulent fat one complained that Mithas could just not do this, “it was not proper”, the others were not as vocal as he tore his head off and threw it to the yipping goblins to eat.
Obedience or Free Will
The rest were shackled, some whimpering, some bawling, all complying. Dragging them south towards the Crater Lake, he did his best to explain their options, go to dinner or come with him. If they went to dinner they would be the main course.
Two choices were offered on the journey, some clearly not liking either were of course taken to dinner, the others, through obedience or free will joined him, some even having their shackles removed.
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Infected
Five humans from this caravan ended up in the Labs, the goblins shying away from fear, even with Mithas bawling at them to stop being so scared of the dark. He met a cleric who did not openly attack him and offered to take them to Mother, stating he had done well.
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A Storm Gathers
Watching from afar, knowing the slavers would not risk attacking him, he wondered if word was spreading that the beasts could be free and not chattel to the lesser races. He watched the fight, a shame they were shackled and half starved he thought, his blood running hot watching the battle. It was short lived. Although a few of the guards fell, often tooth and claw will not rend steel and blade. It was a good sign though. The slaves in the market had started to fight back it seemed. Word must be spreading that those freed in the north had word of a place to the south where they could gather undisturbed.
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An Altar
Maybe it was time to bring those unwilling to join the infected somewhere else? Those that normally became food, he could use for another purpose.
To the South. Jizt had shown him an altar, two in fact, but only one interested him in all honesty. After speaking with the Iron Clan Queen and patching up the miss-understanding of the Golem fiasco, he wondered if he could somehow give sacrifice to Baphomet in her name. There would only be one way to find out, it may also not be why it was there. He shrugged caring not and dragged the human slavers by their feet, their muffled complaints annoying him and their wide eyes filled with terror making him smile. They would be the first to find out if it worked.
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Experiment?
Unusual to be sure, perhaps something Grella was working on. Improve the mind to improve the body? If not he would find those responsible and tear out their lungs. Turning he bellowed at Knox to get a raiding party ready, they were going to scour the tunnels of visitors. Besides he had brought food to feed them, as part of the bargain.
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Food for thought
Mithas was quiet, waiting, not his style, but needs must and besides the invisibility seemed to help. The fist one never saw the blow, the axe cleaving it’s head from it’s shoulders, the others were well trained though, very well trained. They used cowardly magic against him, their pathetic bodies would be no match otherwise. It was a fierce battle, Knox, his trusted goblin ally stabbing at weak spots in their well made armour. One by one they fell. Though he needed them alive.
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He counted them, eleven in total alive to some degree or another. The others he fed on as did Knox. Burning the remains. They would regret attacking him. What could have been an ally was not now and would never be. They had nothing to offer but some corrupting poison. Worthless.
The chains were locked tight and he dragged them, stripped off all their belongings, those that refused to walk were dragged on the floor, soon giving up trying to be a hero the pain of rocks and dirt against skin swaying their minds.
He knew it would come when he got to the entrance to the tunnel, resistance. The first one he cut a limb off and left him for the others to watch, he did not remove him from the group just dragged the body along, still attached by a chain.
She wanted strength? He would find strength for the goblins. Soon the beasts would rise. He could feel it. The Minotaurs he freed to the north swelled in numbers. Growing braver as their herd increased in size.
A pitiful scream but one that made him laugh. The first body flew through the air over the lava and landed with a wet sound on the Altar. The rest followed or were eaten if the struggled too much.
[ The Island of Thain ]
Rise of the Beasts.