Gloag’s Tale

Chapter 1

The Beginning?

The charcoal gray waves lapped at the feet of the blunt, and powerful faced man as he gazed thoughtfully across their white-capped tops. This man, with the dun bristly hide and bullet shaped head, stared after the retreating fleet from Schan. For Gloag, nominal head of the House of Strombor, had been the man who sent those fish heads apacking. Surrounding him and reveling in the glorious defeat of the Shanks was a horde of many facets : bladesmen from his adopted city of Zenicce, chiefly of Strombor and its allied Houses of Eward, Reinman & Wicken, Vallians from the Island Empire of which the Valkan archers astride their flutduins featured most prominent, and a scattering of savage warriors from the Clans of Felschraung, Vikktrik, and Longuelm. Last but not least were his fellow Mehztas, diffs who hailed from this very Island on whose bleek shores they bestrode, in victory.

Now, amidst the celebrating, Gloag contemplated his options. After two years of bitter fighting against his hemespheric foes from Schan, this was one mad diff ! His homeland was in ruins, razed by the bloodthirsty hordes of advancing (and retreating) Shanks or Schturgins as they were known hereabouts. Most of the cities were barely habitable with grain, crops, and voves in meager supply. Thank the Father Mehzta-Makku for aid from the puissant Emperor of Vallia, Drak of the House of Prescot. For it was the father of that same royal scion that was Gloag’s Lord of Strombor. Vallese galleons were a common site in many of the port towns of Mehzta and were most welcome. Without this aid, starvation and plague would rule the Island and render the victory costly indeed.

With the Schturgins thrown back from Mehtza, was the threat to Paz over or merely postponed? Afterall, the horde of fish heads defeated here was only one of many. Another force was even now battling for control of Loh and Tambu, where his Lord of Strombor, Dray Prescot, even now fought to prevent. Surely this would be the time for a bold stroke at the Shank heartland in shadowy Schan, while some of its forces were in bloody rout! An incisive attack at one of its prime coastal cities could maintain this state of anarchy until a proper fleet composed of the Allied Nations of Paz could put forth an overwhelming deterrant to future invasions from these reptilian reivers over the curve of the world. Yes, Gloag believed this was so, but what about his men and women? Would they follow, so soon after overcoming such impossible odds and suffering unspeakable hardships along the way? His Lord, Dray Prescot possessed the yrium that made him a natural leader among leaders. Even a maker of Emperors. But would these men from many nations, follow him across this nameless gray sea at the world’s edge? Did he dare ask more of them? Could he?

"What now Uncle Gloag?", asked the tired and unshaven face of young Prince Vanden. Gazing at the young noble, so much like his father, and yes Natema too, Gloag reflected that the question was very well put.

Turning from Prince Vanden to Jiktar Rov Kovno, one of the chieftains of Clan Longuelm, Gloag remarked " I wonder how far the rasts will run before reaching Opaz-forsaken homes?" Lowering his bloody axe the stocky and clean-shaven though deeply scarred barbarian Clansman replied "not far enough for my well being". Stepping over the corpse of a degutted cod-faced Shank still clasping its red-soaked trident, Gloag rejoined with"ah, but wouldn’t it be a Hai Jikai if we could clear that nest of vermin ? One less army of marauding Leem-Lovers for Paz to contend with?" "Say what?" exclaimed Dargo the Clis, with his gory blue-coated pike hanging loosely in his hands. The brown eyed and fair skinned Vallian then continued with, "Follow these bastards to nest and wipe them off the face of Kregen? Is that what needs doing here? "

"I will not command any of you to follow, but those who want to may join me on this Jikai. I will not rest until those responsible for the brutal murder of my brothers and sisters here in Mehzta are destroyed. These Schturgins will not be allowed to flee as leaves before the storm only to return in the calm aftermath. There wondrous fleet will provide a momentary respite only. So say I, what say you?" Naturally it was left to Gloag’s closest friend and his old dom Nath the Thief, to raise the hue of " Death to the Leem-Lovers. Let us carry destruction to their homeland, where our Lord Gloag will lead us to the glory of Shank annilihation ! Hai Jikai ! Hai Jikai !" Somehow, someway, as seems to happen in armies on two worlds, the word had spread among the allied hosts and weary beyond belief though they were, somehow with one voice they responded to the challenge with cries of "Hai Jikai", or "For Paz", and even "Lord Gloag!" The wiry and weasel-faced man, though scrawny of body and flat of chest, was one of the most honored men in the allied host. His scars that crisscrossed that wiry frame, were sign enough of his rough and ready abilities. And oh the times he, Gloag, Varden, and the barbaric Clansmen have had, ever since Dray Prescot united them all in common cause. Much like Gloag was doing here today but with so much more riding on it now. What was once merely an affair of a city-state was now elevated to hemispheric proportions!

It was the grim-faced Jiktar Laku of Felshraung that voiced the question, when the clamor had died down "But where in all of Schan will we find THESE fish heads?" And Gloag knew he had to think long and hard on just that. Camp was made on the bloody shore and a bone-tired leader decided that maybe, just maybe, Great-Aunt Shusha could aid them ... Gloag summoned Klarg, the only sorcerer of repute that had accompanied his host of avenging Pazzians. The Chulik wizard had made Mehzta his homeland and had learned more of humanity from Gloag than most of his savage race of diffs ever had. Yes, Shusha could help ...