The Alinyu
V. The Death of Grüge
Yet, the Balance was to be maintained, the puzzle
of Kyie completed.
From the lands of the south, along the coast of the Sea of Ryun, a
strange being came to the mountains where Grüge kept his ill-gotten
horde. He rode tall on a barded, black horse, clad from head
to toe in
brilliant armor that gleamed in Sol’s light. Even dismounted,
he towered
above the tallest elf. Strange and silent, he carried only a
shield and a
massive sword, nearly as tall as himself, up the mountain toward Grüge’s
lair. Orcs and trolls, wolves and worgs fell before his great
sword and
beat uselessly against his shield. His strength was unheard-of,
and soon
the orcs and their creations called this silent and deadly creature
the
Klar-cil (KLAR-SIEL), the Silver Demon. He did not sleep, they
whispered to each other, nor rest nor eat anything but the blood of
his
enemies. The news whispered between orcs slipped into the ears of their
captives, and soon the name of the Klar-cil was whispered amongst the
elfin and dwarven slaves, not as a demon to fear, but as a hero.
And as
the Silver Demon climbed higher and higher towards the lair of Grüge,
both the orcish hordes and the desperate captives watch and waited,
fearing and hoping, knowing that the future rested upon the outcome
of
a battle between a sword-wielding demon and a beast whose fierceness
had never before been known.
Finally, after many days, scores of battles with
orcish atrocities and
warriors, the Klar-cil reached the mouth of Grüge’s lair.
Slowly, he
dismounted, drew his sword, and walked slowly inside. He found
Grüge sleeping contentedly atop his mound of gold and treasures.
“Beast!” the Klar-cil cried. “I have come
to slay thee.”
Slowly, Grüge opened a single, monstrous eye.
“So, thou hast finally
come, Lôr.”
“I’ve tracked thee across the sky and across the
worlds, Grüge,” the
Klar-cil replied. “I have not come so far to let ye rest.”
“Very well, then,” Grüge said as he slowly
stood, pulling his enormous
bulk to stand on all four legs, his wings spread wide, his tail thrashing
calmly back and forth. “This time I shall be sure thou art dead,
human.”
Without another word, the dragon unleashed his fiery
breath upon his
opponent.
The Klar-cil raised his shield, gritted his teeth
and stood fast against
the fiery blast. He then raised his sword, screamed a shrill
battle-cry
and rushed toward the dragon, which stood four times his great height
at the shoulder. He struck home in the monster’s belly.
Grüge roared
in pain, and swatted the Klar-cil away and across the expanse of his
lair.
The battle raged on thus for a day and a night and
a day again.
Finally, upon the very crest of the mountain, the two great beings
stood,
exhausted and wounded, each staring in rage at the other. The
moment
seemed to last an eternity as they peered into each other’s eyes.
At last,
the Klar-cil raised his massive sword and plunged it deep into the
heart
of Grüge. The dragon’s roar once again shook the very mountains
of
Alina as he fell dead. His huge carcass tumbled down the side of the
mountain, knocking such rocks and boulders aside to bring half the
mountain down with him as he tumbled into his lair and the rockslide
followed, burying him deep inside.
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