Revision as of 17:30, 3 June 2017

Golg: Tournament Hero of Grond

This book is old and worn. The words written on the paper appear to be a jumble at first glance. Upon looking closer one can see a ballad written in common and double spaced. Between the lines the writer has translated it into Undercommon.

One cycle, not too long ago, Udos declared there would be a great tournament. Warriors of drow and warriors of Grond would fight for a prize of honor and coin. Those who wished to battle were to send word. The contestants would be revealed at the great tournament.

The cycle came and the spectators gathered. The call was made for all who signed up to step in the arena. The drow filed in one after another. Standing like a wall they waited to see who they would fight. Grond was called to come forth and out stepped a lone orog.

This orog held his head proud as he stepped through the gate. His flaming double axe resting on his shoulder and his armor polished. At one glance even the smallest goblin had to have known they were viewing the mighty Golg, Tyrant of Grond!

No others stepped forward. Golg was the only warrior there to defend Grond’s honor. The tournament began, one on one it was to be. Starting unwarded and unenhanance, each warrior took their corner. The countdown was made and the warriors charged. Golg needed few spells and felled the first drow quickly.

Other drow came and other drow fell. They used magic and might and none could prevail alone. Golg had won! The prize and honor was his. Grond was the victor!

As he took his prize another challenge was made. Golg to fight all the drow contestants at once. How could he refuse? The hero of Grond would have no trouble.

All wards were dismissed and the combatants once again took their corners. The count was made and the battle began. The drow cast their wards and flung their spells, fired their arrows and charged with their weapons. The mighty Golg growled deep in his chest, let out an ear splitting battle cry and flung himself into the fray.

Darkness was cast and the spectators stood in anticipation awaiting the outcome. As clashing of metals came to an end and the dust and darkness cleared, a collective gasp was heard from the crowd as the scene below them became visible.

The mighty Golg had been felled but there was no dishonor to the name of Grond for there around him lay more than half the drow combatants, felled by the mighty flaming double axe of the Tyrant of Grond.

Hail the Tyrant! Hail Grond!

~Gurl, Slave of Grond