Ralgrok - Fantasy

Well, as promised, here is Ralgrok, pulled from UGO, written by me, multiple months ago. Aside from a few crappy parts, it is a fairly decent story. This is how you write a real fantasy story.
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The two armies readied ther final postitions, their contrasts as striking as their similarities. On one side was the ogres of the east. They wore but leather kilts and helmets of previous minotaur warriors. These beasts were eager to get into battle. They wielded crudely made swords and clubs, and axes. They were barbaric, and would be charging if not for the 3 cheiftains holding them back. They also brought into battle Elebulls, witch were like giant elephants combined with bulls. They were as armored just as much as their 9-feet tall riders, and could only sport 2 or 3 do to the ogres weight. 3 banners were being shown, one with an axe dripping with blood, another had nothing but a blue skull on it, and the last had a raised hand, clenched into a fist, on it. The banners were crudely sewn, and looked to be spoils of war from some previous battle.
On the other side were Ralgrok's men. Ralgrok was smaller than other ogres and seemed to have human blood in him. His tusks were straighter than the normal ogres, and was 2 feet shorter that other ogres. He sat on horseback, scanning his foes. He looked as if he had all the time in the world, and seemed to be studying each individual warrior. His ogres were better armored, with clean steel breastblates and leather kilts tipped with steel at the bottom. They wore hand crafted helmets, and wielded the same weapons as the other horde did, but their weapons were cleaner and better forged. Like the other horde, he had Elebulls with him. And, like the other horde, each elebull bore 2 or 3 riders.
Seeing the time was right, Ralgrok raised his hand, and quickly brought it down. His men started forward but quickly stopped almost as fiast as they began moving. For they knew the consequence of failing their commander. Ralgrok gestured towards the enemy, and almost immediately a black cloud was above his foes, bringing down black lightning upon the opposing horde, who-in the confusion- had begun charging at the opposing enemy. War drums began to beat faster as bloodlust rose within both armies. Ralgrok then led his army into battle, slashing at the enemy as he went. Ogre fought against ogre, but no ogre could fight with the fury and pleasure as the commander Ralgrok. He slashed at the enemies throats from atop horseback, cutting gaping holes in the enemies throat. His breastplate was already stained with blood. He was so caught up in the killing he didn't notice the ogre attacking his mount. The horse reared up, sending Ralgrok flying. He crawled madly for his sword, but was stopped by an opposing ogre, who smashed his foot on his shoulder. The ogre raised his club, but Ralgrok slashed at his throat with his claws. The ogre flailed back, and let out a long ckohing sound. Ralgrok drew his dagger, and plunged it deep into his chest.

The ogre realed back, then slumped to the ground. Ralgrok heard a roar from behind, and turned to see another ogre charging at him. He dove to the right to retrieve his blade and dodge the oncoming attack. He sprang up and slashed at the ogre's back. The ogre yelped in pain, then slumped onto the ground next to the nearly decapitated ogre. So far, on ogre could stand against Ralgrok's honed skills. Ralgrok scanned the faces of the enemy horde until he found the warrior he was looking for. He ran towards the gargantuan figure, who had just finished cutting down one of the ogres in Raldrok's command. Ralgrok called out his name in Human, "Wolgarn!" he yelled. The huge ogre turned to face his way. Wolgarn's face was frightening to behold; all vestiges of his possible Giant blood gave way to something that, in it's uniqueness, was more terrifying than an ogre. His breasplate was caked with blood and dirt, and to Ralgrok this was the most powerful of the three cheiftains. Wolgarn smiled, showing his sinister pointed teeth.
"So, have you come to die?" he said in human language. No other ogre could speak human as good as Wolgarn or Ralgrok. The two foes stared at each other for a moment. Ralgrok also viewed Wolgarn as the most important cheiftain, for he had started the rebellion that had led to this battle. The three cheiftains and the warriors he was fighting had once served him, but when Wolgarn rose up in rebellion, he took 2 other cheiftains and many warriors with him. the migrated west, and Ralgrok hunted them down. They clashed at Forgmonde, a very dry canyon that could support almost no life.


Wolgarn took the first attack, swining at Ralgrok with his massive axe. Ralgrok pressed himself to the ground, and the axe swooped past just inches from his chest. Ralgrok half crawled, half lunged at Wolgarn. Being quite agile Wolgarn spun away, and brought his axe down upon Ralgrok, who barely had enough time to leap up and block the attack with his sword. The sword cracked, then shattered into many pieces. Ralgrok rolled away, then drew his dagger. Again, Wolgarn charged, slashing at Ralgrok with his mighty axe. Ralgrok parried a blow with his claws, then swated away the axe, and lunged at Wolgarn. The dagger stuck deep in his throat. Wolgarn desperatly tried to get a hold of Ralgrok's throat. When he did, Ralgrok was forced to shove the dagger sideways, making a gaping hole in Wolgarn's throat. The huge ogre fell on the ground with the force of a toppled tree, dead. Ralgrok forced the dagger around the rest of his neck, until he had taken off Wolgarn's head. He raised it up and let out a cry of victory for those around him to hear. Moments later a mounted ogre rode up to Ralgrok, got off the mount, and handed the reins to Ralgrok. Ralgrok shoved the head into the hands of the ogre, saying,
"Do not lose my prize." and with that, Ralgrok jumped on the bulky horse, and rode off back into battle.

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(Later)

The mangled bodies lay strewn as far as the eye could seen and well beyond that. Severed limbs and other body parts could be found everywhere. The ground was drenched with blood, and even organs. Many of the faces of the bodies could be identefied as those of the opposing horde. Few had survived, for ogres were brutal with victory or defeat. Ogres serving Ralgrok walked among the bodies, scanning the once gleaming breastplates and helms, searching for any useable spoils. The leader of the victors watched from aside as guards shoved captives in front of Ralgrok. He scanned the warriors and 2 caught his eye. Their names in human were Ogemunde and Graphil. They were the other 2 cheiftains leading the rebels.

Ogemunde was slimmer than the other ogres, and he had one eye that was long gone to a sword slash. His muscles bulged from his arms and legs, and he had many scars on his face. What was once a hand was now just a stub, for it was just recently cut off by one of Ralgrok's warriors.

Graphil was a smaller ogre. Like Ralgrok, he was shorter, but he was still a foot taller than Ralgrok. In battle he would use two daggers, which were now covered in blood. He wore light armor, studded leather chest armor and chaps that an archer would wear. He had no helmet, which revealed his full head of black dreadlocks. His muscles didnt bulge as much as Ogemunde's, but you are still able to tell he is strong. His face is handsome, cleanly shaven and scarless. It was a shame Ralgrok had to execute such a man. Graphil was extremely fast, and wondered how his warriors were able to catch him.

Both cheiftains, as well as all the other captives, were bound at the hands and feet with chains.
"Graphil. Orgemunde." Ralgrok said in human for his own amusement.
"You know the penalty of betraying your own kind."
Ralgrok scanned the crowd of captives and picked out 4 stong looking ogres. He had the cheiftains taken over to the side. And they knelt down. The ogres were asked something in ogre tounge and they nodded. Their chains were cut loose, and each on was handed a club. They stood over the 2 cheiftains, awaiting the O.K. from Ralgrok. Ralgrok nodded. The ogres raised their clubs, and brought them down upon the ogre cheiftains. It took only a few smashes to break their skulls, but to satisfy Ralgrok they beat them continuosly, until the cheiftains were severed pulp. The corpses were taken away and the 4 ogres were sent away.

(I'll stop there)

Wow... I didn't pay much attention at first but this is a really well-written story, I can't wait for more.

why is the rest not on here? at ugo you are much further than this.

Great Story!

but you already knew I was a big fan

Which is why I want you to co-gm a Ralgrok Rp if it ever happens.
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Ralgrok opened the Elebull skin flap that he used as a door into his tent. He turned and saw his best friend, Gormak, standing in the corner. He is one of the smaller ogres, like Ralgrok, but also very strong. He met him while surrounded by minotaurs. His muscles bulge out quite far, and he wears heavier armor than the other ogres. His prefered weapon is a double-bladed sword he named Deathnotch. He wore an eyepatch because he lost an eye to an archer long ago. He wore no helmet, and his hair was long and neatly combed. His belt has all sorts of thing on it. It has a potion bag, 2 hand axes, a large pouch with who knows whats in it, and a short sword. He wore pauldrons the size of his head, and on the pauldrons he carved runes that resembled Fire and Earth. He can cast magic like Ralgrok, but they are weaker than his. He is also a master of stealth, and is very fast and makes almost no sound when he moves.

"So...why weren't you fighting along side me today?" Ralgrok asked.
Gormak just grunted, which was his way of sying 'I don't know'
Just then the flap opened. And a guard stepped in. He was wielding a spear and a metal shield, and he wore heavy armor similar to that or Gormak.
"A word sir..." the guard said.
"Ah! Khrem. Permission to speak granted." Ralgrok said.
"Should I start...er...feeding them?" Khrem asked. The men didn't even eat without Ralgrok's permission. Ralgrok nodded. The guard saluted him than began to leave. He stopped, having recalled something else he wanted to say.
"Permission to speak?" he asked.
Ralgrok nodded again.
"Alone?"
Ralgrok nodded yet again, then turned to Gormak to send him away. Gormak stood and strode over to the flap. Before leaving he took one more glance back at Ralgrok, then continued out.
"Umm...we seem to have a decline in morale sir...the men say that it is because of your...um...your..." the guard hesitated, wondering if he should say this or not. He said it in ogre tounge, for he couldnt speak human very well.

(Crappy Part) Ralgrok suddenly became furious. He grabbed a nearby pot. He gazed at it's beauty. Elven made, it was a simple bot shaped like a flask with many golden emblems forged on it. There was a dragon, fierce and raised up on two legs, about to pounce on a rider, his bow raised with an arrow knocked and ready, about to shoot a lonely peasent running at his runaway dog. Despite it's beauty, Ralgrok hated the pot. He threw it on the ground in his anger. He sat on his stool a few moments to calm down.
"Ready the men," Ralgrok said, "Drajun awaits us."


Drajun was the city's true name. But those who were not ogres- meaning all other races- called by the less-glorious appelation of Krang. Krang was the present day capital of Ashmor, as well as the most ancient city in Ashmor. Probably even the most ancient city of the whole world Raijukar. Built by the High-Ogres, the maginificent ancestors of it's current inhabitants, Krang had once been a jewel among jewels.

When first made, the city was surrounded by huge 40-foot tall walls made of marble with sets of wide gates made of-at that time- rare and impervious steel.

The present day city was only a fragment of what it once was. The walls now have large holes in them, due to time and failed attempts to restore the wall. Large obelisks that had welcomed travelers were either taken down for supplies, or destroyed by time or previous raiders.

Even the city itself had fallen into general disrepair and ruin. All that was left was the Ogre Lord's palace and some surrounding villas sporting healthy facades.But what had seemed an unstopable spiral or destruction had begun to revise itslef over the past generation. Over half of the wall had been restored.

Crowds of villagers cheared as Ralgrok's men started pushing their way through the front gate. They waved and threw various types of flowers, cloaks, hats, and even money. Riding behind the ranks of soldiers rode Ralgrok, still sitting on his bulky steed. (More to come in a few)

(I'm copy and pasting from another site I posted this on, not typing extremeply fast.)
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Meanwhile-
Raiku non Dre'Valzramon
They found him on his estate near the lush forest in Garal. He was fast asleep in his plush, down-filled bed. A jug of wine lay empty next to 3 previously drained others on his bed-side stool. A slimmer figure who lay next to the large, snoring figure rolled over in her sleep. This was not his mate, but had one day hoped to be. She had wanted to be with him for eternity.
And so she did, dieing there with her love. It took only one mighty swipe of the helmed assassins blade to kill her, but took 4 to take down the bulky man. None of the maids or servants heard their cries.
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The feminine hand dipped her quill in the rich, red ink. Being carefull not to drip on her beautilful cerulean colored robes, she crossed off the next name in the book. Raiku non Dre'Valzramon. This was not the name she truely desired, but she was happy with the success of her assassins. She looked down at the next name. Camrin Holzart. Camrin was rapidly aging, but still had the heart and skill as a young champion. He was old, his hair had whitened, and he had a beard that hung down to his chest. He wore light chain-mail armor, being a captain, and he wore the helmet with his clan symbol- a sinister wave crashing into sea rocks- engraved on the top. He still took to his normal routine, which meant he would be out on his evening walk. He viewed his guards as more of a boundary than protection. When he heard a gargling sound behind him, he turned and looked at his guards. Xymph, the eldest guard, was already dead and his blood was pooling on the ground. Yangteph, the younger guard, had just received a nasty stab through the heart. He slid to the ground next to the other fallen guard. Camrin drew his swords.
"Show yourself cowards! None can stand to my might! Come on out and fight me!" he yelled. He was suddenly struck by two arrows. One pierced his lung, and the other drove deep into his back. He bled profusely, and slumped on the ground next to his fallen guards.

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As Ralgrok neared the white marble dome that was the Ogre Lord's palace, he ordered his troops to the taverns to eat and chat while he took to his private buisness with the Ogre Lord. He opened the beautiful front gate made of oak and ash and came to the courtyard. A servant, wearing but silk pants and a red tunic lined with a blue trim, hussled over to him and took the reins. He didn't offer to help Ralgrok down, for it was Ogre customs that every Ogre looks after himself.
Ralgrok strolled across the courtyard. It also served as a graveyard, and any tombstones of previous Ogre Lords dotted the courtyard. In the center was a fountain. It hadn't been running in at least 40 years, and the reason for this was still unknown. Ralgrok maneuvered his way around the fountain and started towards the double doors leading into the palace. Two guards wielding a spear and shield were station outside the door. As Ralgrok neared, on of them reached over and grabbed the handle of the door. As Ralgrok started walking up the 50 or so steps to the door, he heard the scrape of iron sliding across marble.

The inside was just as beautiful as the outside. golden statues lined the edge of the palace's many hallways. pictures, paintings, and carvings hung from nails in the walls. well sewn quilts were hung close to the ceiling. Torches dotted the hallways and corridors, being the only sources of light afordable at the time.

Ralgrok paid no attention to the palace's beauty. In fact, he even despised it. He hated how Ogre Lords spent more time decorating their 'fabulous' palaces and less time worrying about what was going on!

The iron door slammed shut behind Ralgrok. Ralgrok started walking down the main hallway, looking straight ahead of him and paying no attention to any servants offering him food or wine. He came to the Ogre Lord's door. He flung it open, and stepped inside.

"It has been done, master." Ralgrok said as he bowed to the Ogre Lord. The Ogre Lord's throne was suprisingly not as beautiful as everything else in the palace. It looked like- and actually was- a large chair made of mohogany and teak wood.

The Ogre Lord nodded as he motioned a servant towards him. The servant walked out in a hurry, motioning for the others to follow. Moments later, they returned with plates full of food and wine. As well as breads, cheeses, fruits, and many kinds of stew and soups.

Soon Ralgrok and his hungry soldiers were feasting in the throne room of the Ogre Lord.
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The femenine hand dipped her quill into the red ink and, again, crossed off the next name in the book.
"Another page complete." she muttered.
A priestess dressed in white robes and red trim came into the room holding a jug of blue colored wine. She knelt down before the lady in the blue robes.
"More wine, High Priestess Celestia?" she asked in a shy voice.
The High Priestess swat away the jug, sending bits of glass and blue liquid everywhere.
"5 names! 5 of the heroes have escaped! Send the leader of the mercenaries. I would like to have a word with him." she yelled as she glared down at the next name. Bastion Gor'Lomin.

Bastion let out a loud yell as he cut down yet another assassin. Blood pooled from the bodies of the recently deceased men in black armor. Bastion was a large man, with thick muscles that bluged from his arms. His eyes were all white, and why, no one knows. He wore his regular armor, a steel breastplate and large steel pauldrons. He had painted the armor a dark red. He wore a leather kilt tipped with metal. His weapon was a large sword surved at the tip.
2 more assassins rushed at Bastion. He slashed at one, and nearly cut him in half. He turned to swing at the other but found that he was gone. He started backing away, only to be stopped when the assassin appeared behind him. The assassin lunged at his back with his claws, but Bastion spun away. Bastion grabbed the assassin's arm, and yanked him towards him. He then grabbed the man's sides, lifted him in the air, and hurled him off of his balcony. The fall was about 30 feet. Bastion looked down at the chaos below. Many other men were fighting against these helmed assassins, but many were cut down trying. Bastion heard his iron door fling open. He spun around to see his brother, Malkior, standing there. On his right side was a gash, it bled profusely. Malkior let out a quiet grunt. He slumped to the floor, dead.
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As the feasting came to an end, Ralgrok stood and muttered an order quietly to a servant. The servant bowed, then quickly maneuvered his way out.

Two more guards entered; in their grip was a surly figure. The rogue ogre leader Grack glared at his hated captors.
He swore in ogre at Ralgrok and spat at him. Ralgrok ignored the insult, instead gesturing for Grack to be brought forward, to the Ogre Lord, Zhrang. Having dreamed of the moment, the ogre lord grinned wickedly and rose. He extended his hand behind him and was presented with a long, sharp sword cast of steel that Ralgrok himself had gifted to him after a previous victory over the black-armored race of half-dragons called Thrangdoshal.

Ogre tradition demanded that a triumphant cheiftain bring back a powerful foe back home as a present to his lord. The ogre lord would acknowledge the cheiftain's victory and loyalty with a ceremonial execution of the prisoner as celebrants watched.

Despite his jagged, rotund appearence, Zhrang swung the sword back and forth experimentally in a manner that showed that his skill as a warrior had not faded entirely. Indeed, he had enjoyed practicing with the sword after the fall of the Thrangdoshal. His display of prowess earned grunts of approval and banging of fists on tables from his guests, and even Ralgrok nodded appreciatively.

Grack was shoved to his knees. Even though he was well aware of his doom, the rogue leader revealed no fear or despair. To do so would leave his spirit wandering in shame and also mark his clan for a generation.

Gripping the sword firmly, the ogre lord took up a position to the side of the prisoner and near Ralgrok. The guards stepped away, but they kept their weapons ready should Grack attempt something reckless at the last moment.

Ralgrok, his own sword sheathed, watched the events unfold. A hint of amused anticipation touched his countenance.

Zhrang, his face twisting into an expression of dark pleasure, raised the once Thrangdoshalian blade high. With a grunt, he brought the sword down heavily- and at the last moment shifted its angle to aim it's sharp edge towards Ralgrok.

Excellent, purely awesome. I can't wait for more of this fantastic story. Keep up the great work!