The Orc King

The warriors of Clan Karuck paraded onto the muddy plaza centering a small orc village one rainy morning, the dreary overcast and pounding rain doing nothing to diminish the glory of their thunderous march.



"Stand and stomp!" the warriors sang in voices that resonated deeply from their massive half-ogre chests. "Smash and crush! All for the glory of One-eye Gruumsh!"



Yellow pennants flapping in the wind, waves of mud splattering with every coordinated step, the clan came on in tight and precise formation, their six flags moving, two-by-two, in near perfect synchronization. The curious onlookers couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the huge half-ogre, half-orcs and the scores of orcs from other tribes that had been swept up into their wake from the first villages through which Chieftain Grguch had marched.



Only one full-blooded orc marched with Grguch, a young and fiery shaman. Toogwik Tuk wasted no time as the villagers gathered. He moved out in front as Grguch halted his march.



"We are fresh from victory in the Moonwood!" Toogwik Tuk proclaimed, and every orc along the eastern reaches of Obould's fledgling kingdom knew well that hated place. Thus, predictably, a great cheer greeted the news.



"All hail Chieftain Grguch of Clan Karuck!" Toogwik Tuk proclaimed, and that was met with an uncomfortable pause until he added, "For the glory of King Obould!"



Toogwik Tuk glanced back to Grguch, who nodded his agreement, and the young shaman started the chant, "Grguch! Obould! Grguch! Obould! Grguch! Grguch! Grguch!"



All of Clan Karuck fell in quickly with the cadence, as did the orcs who had already joined in with the march, and the villagers' doubts were quickly overwhelmed.



"As Obould before him, Chieftain Grguch will bring the judgment of Gruumsh upon our enemies!" Toogwik Tuk cried, running through the mob and whipping them into frenzy. "The snow retreats, and we advance!" With every glorious proclamation, he took care to add, "For the glory of Obould! By the power of Grguch!"



Toogwik Tuk understood well the weight that had settled on his shoulders. Dnark and Ung-thol had departed for the west to meet with Obould regarding the new developments, and it fell squarely upon Toogwik Tuk to facilitate Grguch's determined march to the south. Clan Karuck alone would not stand against Obould and his thousands, obviously, but if Clan Karuck carried along with them the orc warriors from the dozen villages lining the Surbrin, their arrival on the field north of King Bruenor's fortifications would carry great import - enough, so the conspirators hoped, to coerce the involvement of the army Obould had likely already positioned there.



That sort of rabble rousing had been Toogwik Tuk's signature for years. His rise through the ranks to become the chief shaman of his tribe - almost all of whom were dead, crushed in the mysterious, devastating explosion of a mountain ridge north of Keeper's Dale - had been expedited by precisely that talent. He knew well how to manipulate the emotions of the peasant orcs, to conflate their present loyalties with what he wanted their loyalties to be. Every time he mentioned Obould, he was quick to add the name Grguch. Every time he spoke of Gruumsh, he was quick to add the name of Grguch. Mingle them, say them together enough times so that his audience would unwittingly add "Grguch" whenever they heard the names of the other two.



His energy again proved infectious, and he soon had all of the villagers hopping about and chanting with him, always for the glory of Obould, and always by the power of Grguch.



Those two names needed to be intimately linked, the three conspirators had decided before Dnark and Ung-thol had departed. To even hint against Obould after such dramatic and sweeping victories as the orc king had brought would have spelled a fast end to the coup. Even considering the disastrous attempt to enter Mithral Hall's western gate, or the loss of the eastern ground between the dwarven halls and the Surbrin, or the stall throughout winter and the whispers that it might be longer than that, the vast majority of orcs spoke of Obould in the hushed tones usually reserved for Gruumsh himself. But Toogwik Tuk and two companions planned to move the tribes to oppose their king, one baby-step at a time.



"By the power of Grguch!" Toogwik Tuk cried again, and before the cheer could erupt, he added, "Will the dwarven wall hold against a warrior who burned the Moonwood?"



Though he expected a cheer, Toogwik Tuk was answered with looks of suspicion and confusion.



"The dwarves will flee before us," the shaman promised. "Into their hole they will run, and we will control the Surbrin for King Obould! For the glory of King Obould!" he finished, screaming with all his power.



The orcs around him cheered wildly, insanely.



"By the power of Grguch!" the not-quite-so-out-of-control Toogwik Tuk cleverly added, and many of the villagers, so used to the chant by then, shouted the words right along beside him.



Toogwik Tuk glanced back at Chieftain Grguch, who wore a most satisfied grin.



Another step taken, Toogwik Tuk knew.



Taking many offered supplies, Clan Karuck soon resumed their march, and a new pennant flew among the many in the mob behind them, and another forty warriors eagerly melded into Chieftain Grguch's trailing ranks. With several larger villages before them, both the chieftain and his shaman spokesman expected that they would number in the thousands when they at last reached the dwarven wall.



Toogwik Tuk held faith that when they smashed that wall, the cries for Grguch would be louder than those for Obould. The next cheers he led would hold fewer references to the glory of Obould and more to the glory of Gruumsh. But he would not lessen the number of his claims that all of it was being wrought by the power of Grguch.



Jack could see that the sprout of hair on one side of Hakuun's misshapen, wart-covered nose tingled with nervous energy as he walked out from the main host, among dark pines and broken fir trees.



"By sprockets and elemental essences, that was exciting, wasn't it?"



The orc shaman froze in place at the all-too-familiar voice, composed himself with a deep breath that greatly flared his nostrils, and slowly turned to regard a curious little humanoid in brilliant purple robes sitting on a low branch, swinging his feet back and forth like a carefree child. The form was new to Hakuun. Oh, he knew what a gnome was, indeed, but he had never seen Jaculi in that state before.



"That young priest is so full of spirit," Jack said. "I almost walked out and joined in with Grguch myself! Oh, what a grand march they have planned!"



"I didn't ask you to come up here," Hakuun remarked.



"Did you not?" said Jack, and he hopped down from the tree and brushed the twigs from his fabulous robes. "Tell me, Shaman of Clan Karuck, what am I to think when I peer out from my work to find that the one to whom I have bestowed such great gifts has run off?"



"I did not run off," Hakuun insisted, trying to keep his voice steady, though he was visibly near panic. "Often does Clan Karuck go hunting."



Hakuun gave ground as the gnome walked up to him. Jack continued to advance as Hakuun retreated.



"But this was no ordinary excursion."



Hakuun looked at Jack with dull curiosity, obviously not understanding him.



"No ordinary hunt," Jack explained.



"I have told you."



"Of Obould, yes, and of his thousands," said Jack. "A bit of mischief and a bit of loot to be found, so you said. But it is more than that, is it not?"



Again Hakuun wore a puzzled expression.



Jack snapped his stubby fingers in the air and whirled away. "Do you not feel it, shaman?" he asked, his voice full of excitement. "Do you not recognize that this is no ordinary hunt?"



Jack spun back on Hakuun to measure his response, and still he saw that the shaman wasn't quite catching on. For Jack, so perceptive and cunning, had deduced the subtext of Toogwik Tuk's speech, and the implications it offered.



"Perhaps it is just my own suspicion," the gnome said, "but you must tell me all that you know. Then we should speak with that spirited young priest."



"I have told you..." Hakuun protested. His voiced trailed off and he retreated a step, knowing what awful thing was about to befall him.



"No, I mean that you must tell me everything," Jack said, all humor gone from his voice and his expression as he took a step toward the shaman. Hakuun shrank back, but that only made Jack stride more purposefully.



"Ah, you do forget," the gnome said as he closed the gap. "All that I have done for you, and so little have I asked in return. With great power, Hakuun, comes great expectations."



"There is nothing more," the shaman started to plead, and he held up his hands.



Jack the Gnome wore a mask of evil. He said not a word, but pointed to the ground. Hakuun shook his head feebly and continued to wave, and Jack continued to point.



But it was no contest, the outcome never in doubt. With a slight whimper, Hakuun, the mighty shaman of Clan Karuck, the conduit between Grguch and Gruumsh, prostrated himself on the ground, face down.



Jack looked straight ahead and lowered his arms to his sides as he quietly mouthed the words to his spell. He thought of the mysterious illithids, the brilliant mind flayers, who had taught him so much of one particular school of magic.



His robes fluttered only briefly as he shrank, then they and all his other gear melded into his changing form. In an instant Jack the Gnome was gone and a sightless rodent padded across the ground on four tiny feet. He went up to Hakuun's ear and sniffed for a few moments, hesitating simply because he recognized how uncomfortable it was making the cowering creature.



Then Jack the Gnome-cum-brain mole crawled into Hakuun's ear and disappeared from sight.



Hakuun shuddered and jerked in agonized spasms as the creature burrowed deeper, through the walls of his inner ear and into the seat of his consciousness. The shaman forced himself up to all fours as he began to gag. He vomited and spat, though of course the feeble defenses of his physical body could not begin to dislodge his unwelcome guest.



A few moments later, Hakuun staggered to his feet.



There, said the voice of Jack in his head. Now I better understand the purpose of this adventure, and together we will learn the extent of this spirited young shaman's plans.



Hakuun didn't argue - there was no way he could, of course. And for all his revulsion and pain, Hakuun knew that with Jack inside him, he was much more perceptive, and many times more powerful.



A private conversation with Toogwik Tuk, Jack instructed, and Hakuun could not disagree.



Even with their sensitive elf ears, Drizzt and Hralien could only make out the loudest chants from the gathered orcs. Still, the purpose of the march became painfully obvious.



"They are the ones," Hralien remarked. "The yellow banner was seen in the Moonwood. It appears that their numbers have..."



He paused as he looked over at his companion, who didn't seem to be listening. Drizzt crouched, perfectly still, his head turned back to the south, toward Mithral Hall.



"We have already passed several orc settlements," the drow said a few heartbeats later. "No doubt this march will cross through each."



"Swelling their numbers," Hralien agreed, and Drizzt finally looked at him.



"And they'll continue southward," the drow reasoned.



Hralien said, "This may be renewed aggression brewing. And I fear that there is an instigator."



"Tos'un?" said Drizzt. "I see no dark elf among the gathering."



"He's likely not far afield."



"Look at them," Drizzt said, nodding his chin in the direction of the chanting, cheering orcs. "If Tos'un did instigate this madness, could he still be in control of it?"



It was Hralien's turn to shrug. "Do not underestimate his cunning," the elf warned. "The attack on the Moonwood was well-coordinated, and brutally efficient."



"Obould's orcs have surprised us at every turn."



"And they were not without drow advisors."



The two locked stares at that remark, a cloud briefly crossing Drizzt's face.



"I truly believe that Tos'un orchestrated the attack on the Moon-wood," Hralien said. "And that he is behind this march, wherever it may lead."



Drizzt glanced back to the south, toward Bruenor's kingdom.



"It may well be that their destination is Mithral Hall," Hralien conceded. "But I beg you to continue on the road that led you out of Bruenor's depths. For all our sakes, find Tos'un Armgo. I will shadow these orcs, and will give ample warning to King Bruenor should it become necessary - and I will err on the side of caution. Trust me in this, I beg, and free yourself for this most important task."



Drizzt looked from the gathered orcs back toward Mithral Hall yet again. He envisioned a battle fought along the Surbrin, fierce and vicious, and felt the pangs of guilt in considering that Bruenor and Regis, perhaps even Catti-brie and the rest of Clan Battle hammer, would yet again be fighting for their survival without him by their side. He winced as he saw again the fall of the tower at Shallows, with Dagnabbit, whom he had then thought to be Bruenor, tumbling down to his death atop it.



He took a deep breath and turned back to the orc frenzy, the chanting and dancing continuing unabated. If a dark elf from Barrison Del'Armgo, one of the most formidable Houses of Menzoberranzan, was to blame then the orcs would no doubt prove many times more formidable than they appeared. Drizzt nodded grimly, his responsibility and thus his path clear before him.



"Follow their every move," he bade Hralien.



"On my word," the elf replied. "Your friends will not be caught unprepared."



The orcs moved along soon after, and Hralien shadowed their southwestern march, leaving Drizzt alone on the mountainside. He considered going down to the orc village and snooping around, but decided that Tos'un, if he was about, would likely be along the periphery, among the stones, as was Drizzt.



"Come to me, Guenhwyvar," the drow commanded, drawing forth the onyx figurine. When the gray mist coalesced into the panther, Drizzt sent her out hunting. Guenhwyvar could cover a tremendous amount of ground in short order, and not even a lone drow could escape her keen senses.



Drizzt, too, set off, moving deliberately but with great caution in the opposite direction from the panther, who was already cutting across the wake of the departing army. If Hralien's guess was correct and Tos'un Armgo was directing the orcs from nearby, Drizzt held all faith that he would soon confront the rogue.



His hands went to his scimitars as he considered Khazid'hea, Catti-brie's sword, the weapon that had fallen into the hands of Tos'un. Any drow warrior was formidable. A warrior of a noble House likely more so. Even thinking in those respectful terms, Drizzt consciously reminded himself that the drow noble was even more potent, for those who underestimated Khazid'hea usually wound up on the ground.



In two pieces.



Interesting, Jack said to Hakuun's mind when they walked away from their quiet little meeting with Toogwik Tuk, one in which Jack had used the power of magical suggestion to complement Hakuun's spells of lie detection, allowing the dual being to extract much more honest answers from Toogwik Tuk than the young shaman had ever meant to offer. So the conspirators have not brought you here to enhance Obould's forces.



"We must tell Grguch," Hakuun whispered.



Tell him what? That we have come to do battle?



"That our venture into the Moonwood and now against the dwarves will likely anger Obould."



Inside his head, Hakuun could feel Jack laughing. Orcs plotting against orcs, Jack silently related. Orcs manipulating orcs to plot against orcs. All of this will be surprising news to old Chieftain Grguch, I am sure.



Hakuun's determined stride slowed, his tailwind stolen by Jack's cynical sarcasm - sarcasm effective only because it held the ring of truth.



Let the play play, said Jack. The plots of the conspirators will be bent to our favor when we need them to be. For now, all the risk is theirs, for Clan Karuck is unwitting. If they have played the part of fools to even consider such a plot, their fall will be enjoyable to witness. If they are not fools, then all to our gain.



"Our gain?" said Hakuun, emphasizing Jack's inclusion into it all.



"For as long as I am interested," Hakuun's voice replied, though it was Jack who controlled it.



A not-so-subtle reminder, Hakuun understood, of who was leading whom.