Wars of the Black Alliance


Mysteries of Moriban, the year of 1401

Tw3wh burning village

..Every quest has a beginning. Even the really stupid ones.


The cheerful sounds of distant festivities could be heard above the gentle flapping of the black banners.

Grak’auk of the Ark’rrask pack was growing impatient. His fellow gnolls had finished urinating all over the place to mark the pack’s territory, and now they were getting bored. Grak’auk knew his lord and master loathed the peeing practice, which made it all the more hilarious – he had made sure to personally mark territory in the vicinity of his lord’s personal battle flag. And on it.

However his master was too preoccupied with planning the forthcoming assault to notice; something about finesse and how Grak’auk and his kind wouldn’t ever understand tactics and deception. It was fine, though. Grak’auk really didn’t care about finesse, he was paid by the day, so a siege would suit him just fine. Plenty of time to hunt rabbits and bury bones then.

He eventually figured that he would have enough time for a nap, so he turned around himself three times and curled up in a ball. He had barely closed his eyes when the war horn sounded across the plains, and his master’s voice boomed across the assembled army – “The gates are ours – it is time for the slaughter to begin! Go now, and destroy!”

As Grak’auk leapt into action along his pack, the cheerful sounds ahead of him turned into screams of horror. It was music to his ears. In fact, he made a promise to himself to kill a bard this time. He really hated bards.



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