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No need to apologise, my friend - it's your tale, after all

Chapter 7.

As dawn broke over the Ice Maw tribal encampment there was another storm brewing up above their heads. But this was something the tribe was used to and payed it no heed. However someone else was definitely paying heed to the weather who grew ever more harsh was Miranda.
To explain this we must go back to the day that has passed.

Gothmog cursed under his breath, he was a master planner but not even he could anticipate the weather in these thrice cursed mountains. If only he could have done so he pondered. Yes that would definitely need looking into he decided. But first he and his great slave expedition needed to get out of them, and into the lands of the border princes where more victims could be found.
His looked back and saw his infernal guard marching true the snow with grim determination, behind them came wagons heaped high with supplies and other essentials needed for a expedition of this scale.
There where others too that had thoughts of power but the individual that had these plans did not intent to include his foolish master in them. However it would need to wait, now was not the time to act.

The usurper cast a greedy gaze at the only individual that was not a dwarf in the caravan. The woman was clad in heavy furs and clearly disliked this even more than the warm hold she had spent the last months as a captive in. but her eyes revealed that her inner fire had not died yet.
Miranda however had no plans for either usurping power or manipulating the weather in these damned mountains. She had long wished for death after her capture and enslavement, but now her hearth once again filled her with a cautious optimism. If she could not escape at least she would die in her homeland she had decided. As these three very different individuals where brooding in their own thoughts little did they know that the caravan was being shadowed.

From high up in the crags above several pairs of hungry eyes followed the ones travelling below with great interest, now was not the time to strike however the largest of the forms decided.

As nightfall drew closer the dwarfs stopped to make camp, the wagons were arranged in a defensive circle and great fires lit. soon the encampment fell silent as sleep claimed many while guards kept a keen watch for any would be raider, or beasts for that mater.
Miranda felt the cold grip her, even true her thick furs. Whatever that old monster had planed for her he clearly did not wanting her to freeze to death. But soon she too drifted into a form of restless sleep, her dreams plagued by visions of great pale and sinewy beasts creeping closer to the camp.

Suddenly she woke, torn from her sleep by a horrible scream. She stumbled to her feet and looked around still gripped by sleep and confusion.





To her horror she saw a huge monster of sorts rip a fellow slave in two and showing one half down its greedy maw, it was massively tall and vaguely resembled a Ogre but that it could not be, it was too thin. Suddenly she became aware the sounds of battle that raged all around her, she could hear the roar of beasts and the hoarse howls of dwarfs. Also she heard the wailing of slaves left to fend for themselves as the battle raged all around.

As she began to look for a place to hide, she became aware that she was being watched by the very same beast that had devoured the poor man. It stalked towards her with its bloodstained maw open and great hands that ended in gruesome looking claws. It growled and seemed to be on the verge of attacking her when a voice she recognized all to well.
It was that fiendish casstellan of her owner, the dwarf was clearly fresh from a fight, his axe dripped with blood and his shield and armour dented in several places.

His arrival clearly upset the great beast. Because it roared like someone possessed by a demon. It shook its great head from side to side and seemed to likely to tear everyone in range of tooth and claw apart.
The beast was a Gouger, it had no name. As all Gougers it had been cast out from the Ogre tribe it was born in due to its misinformed body, driven mad by hunger and isolation the beast had survived somehow and had several years ago found it way. There it had grown strong on the blood and meat of the surface dwellers, for a long time it had wandered alone before meeting others like it.

Even thou such beasts normally are solitary and dwell alone in the dark the band of outcasts had formed a pack of sorts, close bonds had been developed and they became a family of sorts.
Now the great male smelled the blood of one of its pack mates on the weapon of that creature that had disturbed its meal, now all thoughts about food gave way to a seething rage that would only end if it fell or its foe was torn limb from limb.

Casstellan Gwaldur was a seasoned fighter, he had risen true the ranks of the infernal guard and now after several centuries spent in its steel clad ranks was the second in command of the hold. He had butchered and burnt many foes but none came close to these....beasts in blood-thirst. He had once fought Minotaur’s and slain several and had even faced a giant. However noting could unnerve this seasoned warrior, he also had plotted the demise of his demented master for some time. And he would be damned if some stinking beast would stop him from achieving glory and infamy!

The two foes began to circle each other while Miranda ceased the chance to slip beyond the wagon marking the camp border. She had managed somehow of grabbing with her some food and a knife, so at least she would not be competently helpless. She ran for what she was worth into the night.
If she had stayed to watch she would have seen the casstellan meeting a gruesome end, just as he struck towards his foe the beast somehow managed to grab a hold of his arm, and used its other arm to twist his body so the arm was torn of, he screamed in horror but not for long. The gouger looked at him with a almost pleased look in its eyes before it bit his head of and threw the body away like a rag doll.

NOT ENOUGH KILLING

jk, great new part.

Thank you my favorit tyranind bioform

Nice brutal fight. Sometimes, less is more.

Thanks, I expect to have the next part up either today or tomorrow. The real world has conspired against me

Excellent story! I hope to see more.

@ cormadepanda : Thanks man, I appriciate it greatly

Chapter 8.

Miranda made slow progress true the knee deep snow, around her stood the dark and brooding mountains silently guard over the lone human who dared to walk their realm. She wondered if this had been a wise decision, even if it had gotten her free of those infernal dwarfs that had enslaved her. She stopped on a ridge and looked around her. As far as the eye could see there was only mountains and snow, it dawned on her that she might die here. Alone and forgotten. But the proud woman would not curl up and die.

As she trudged down the hill she caught a glimpse of a great glacier that seemed to almost cover a whole mountain, it was a pale blue serpent of ice. But as soon as the vision had appeared it was obscured once again by roiling clouds that herald a possibility for snowfall.
She walked on, although her new found freedom did not offer much hope of survival it was far better than what she had escaped from that she thought silently to herself.
Had she known what fate had in waiting for her, she might have simply curled p and died in a dark cave. But thankfully she did not have the ability to see the future that lay ahead of her.

Meanwhile several leagues away the ice maw tribe was slowly beginning to awake from the grand feast last night, even thou they where a grim lot, and rarely indulged in such feasts as the other Ogre tribes of the mountains of Mourn normally did on a daily basis, they did on rare occasions. This past evening had seen a new member of the clan inducted into the ranks of the jotuns, who held the position normally reserved for Iron Guts of other tribes.
These where Ogres who had proven their worth in battle, or possessed skills that was highly important to the tribe. However most of these massive warriors where scared beyond count, and harmed by a long life spent at war. None of them had objected to the newcomer, he stood tall and seemed to posses a truly devious mind. Although his new tribe was not dim like most Ogres they where not scholars either.

Greyskull rose from the great bear hide he had slept on, his body felt stiff and his mouth felt dry, as if he had walked for a long time on dusty roads. Shaking his head and muttering curses under his breath he walked out from the hut he had slept in.
outside a cold breeze embraced his clouded mind, and seemed to bring the prospect of a new day on its icy wings. He could hear other tribe members beginning to wake but most where fast asleep after a long night fuelled by almost epic amounts of beer and meat.
Reaching into the hut he grabbed his great cloak of bearskin and his trusted blade. Muttering a few words to a fellow Jotun he began to walk into the waiting mountains. He needed space and time to think, and to lay plans most of all.

As he cleared the camp he saw a set of great foot prints set in the snow before him, they could only belong to a single creature. And just as he had finished that thought a shape slipped forth from the rocks ahead of him. The Gouger seemed to measure him up, almost if it where considering the odds. But it did not attack, instead it merely growled and seemed to wait for him.
As Greyskull began to walk he noticed that the beast still trailed behind him. But seemed to merely keep up with him. This was strange indeed he thought to himself.

Still many long miles away Miranda now felt the full bite of the cold, it was if the very mountains emitted a aura of cold. And the snow covered ground and low hanging clouds did not help either.
The last she remembered before she collapsed beneath a pine tree was a blurry figure apportioning, and a tremor of fear gripping her bleeding heart,

Excellent new entry.

This is very atmospheric, for lack of a better word. You described the setting perfectly.

LoneLictor wrote:Excellent new entry.

This is very atmospheric, for lack of a better word. You described the setting perfectly.

Thank you for the kind words. Yes this last part is my personal favoriteI dare say. Next part comming soon

Chapter 9

When Miranda woke she gave a frightened scream that rang between the cold walls of the cave she found found herself, above her towered the very beast she had seen devour a slave, it looked almost like like it was standing guard. She fumbled for the dagger hidden between her pale breasts as a voice like thunder filled the cave “ You are safe woman, he means you no harm. He saved you from the biting cold and brought you here”.
She looked around to see where the voice came from and looked right into two glittering eyes that where set in a massive form, the great figure stepped closer and revealed it self as a Ogre, but Notting like what she could imagine. His great body was not fat or greasy, but seemed to be carved from stone, his massive shoulders draped by a great bearskin and his skin the same as the stone that surrounded her. Fear gripped her but in addition to that a small voice raised a question about why she had been carried here.

“ I advise you to put that toothpick away woman” Greyskull said to Miranda that had slipped one hand inside her dress to grab the cold steel of her dagger. “ You would not get out here alive if you tried to use it in anger.”
these words did little to calm the frightened Miranda who had her back firmly planted towards the cave wall. To Greyskull uncivilized eyes she was like a wounded and frightened beast in need of care. he had not intended for his sojourn to evolve into a salvation journey but this woman had sparked a fire in him he could not get rid of. The great Gouger had came hauling her cold body in its massive paws the day before and now he found himself with a human as company.

The Gouger slipped back into the wild, it had no bonds to kin or pack any more, they where all dead now. Claimed by those prey things clad in cold dark armour. Now he was all that remained, but for some reason the beast had spared the female it had found. The Gouger remembered the Ogre and by some form of either destiny or other means it had tracked him down and handed over the female.
As it climbed up the steep mountain side a barley audible growl could be heard deep within its great chest. If such a beast could weep it may have sounded like this.

Miranda sat stiff and looked at the Ogre who was her new captor, from the ashes to the fire she thought. Summoning all her remaing strength she said “ Wh...what are you going to with me?”
she barley managed to wait for the reply.

Greyskull looked at the frail woman before him, she was tiny compared to his great frame, and yet he saw a inner fire in her. It would take time but it was a sheering hot flame that craved revenge. Yes maybe had found a new source of help on his quest for revenge.

As always, exceedingly well written. Props to you, Trondheim.

authors note and reader acknowledgement.

So far my dear readers we have followed the trials of both villain, fair maiden and the lumbering Ogre. I received some time ago a letter from a reader who wished know more about the tribal customs and shamanistic ways of the Ice Maw tribe. This reader wanted to know how said traditions affect things like initiation of new members of the tribes and the story of their ways. I will do my best to meet this humble request by a reader that hails from Nuln.

Tribal hierarchy and the ways of the shamanistic lifestyle of the tribe are governed by one thing above all, this is the great glacier that lies not far from their permanent camp site. This great expanse of ice creeps slowly forwards with the passing of each day, and hence it governs the life of all those who dwell near it. It also has a aura of power emitting from it for those who can channel such flows of magical energies. It is from these freezing veins of power that the tribes most experienced shaman draws the power that allows him to cast incantations of significant power.

Exact how the Ogres of the Ice Maw tribe discovered this is not know, but it seems that dwelling in this great glaciers shadow freed them from the eternal hunger of their ancestral god known to the well educated traveller as the Maw. There have been speculations about the source of this influence, one of these theories is that a ancient creature of sorts must dwell nearby, for only a creature of immense power could instil such a change in the Ogres that now worship the nature that surrounds them. This change of worship also seems to have instilled great change in the very nature of the tribal members too. The first thing a guest would notice is the lack of any Butchers or slaughterers in the clan, these individual positions have been replaced by the small and secretive cult known as the Jotuns. These immense warriors are the ones who communicate with their god, and it is also they who hold the key to their fellow tribal members survival in these rugged lands. When the need arise to communicate with the spirits these will begin a solemn walk to the very highest mountain in their domain, here they will undergo purification rituals and make sacrifices of blood and fire to their malevolent deity. Most common is the sacrifices of blood from wild beasts or captives but their preferred scarifies are the evil creatures known as chaos dwarfs, when one or more of these fiends are captured great honour and respect will be granted to the one who spills their lifeblood on the mountain peak. Afterwards the bodies are left to the elements or thrown into a great ice fissure on the icy ridges below. In battle these warriors wield great hammers or long straight swords that emits a biting cold that numbs all that feel their bite. It is also their task to choose the new tyrant when the old one passes into the afterlife or when a outsider needs to be joined with the tribe.


Their first time spent in the shadow of the Muspelheim glacier claimed many lives. The survivors also changed their ways to deal with the scarce supply of food.
They have lost the characteristic fat and greasy appearance of other Ogres, and have become much more muscled. And their skin is reported to emit a aura of cold, they also grow great manes of hair. It is also important for any would be adventurer to notice that the Ice Maws are on very bad terms with other Ogre clans, and react very violently if said members enter their domain. They also have little love for slavers or others who prey on the weak and helpless. Such acts aer deeply taboo in their culture and is punishable by death in most cases.

Their hunting grounds where also until some time ago home to many fell beasts but due to events described earlier in this book it is less of these creatures now. But be warmed......Death awaits those who dose not heed the warnings given in this text. The Muspelheim is a grim lord and its follower are seldom prone to mercy, although some travellers has been granted friendship and protection by the clan. One of this individuals goes by the name of Miranda Asagard, she returned from these lands some time ago after seemingly having escaped enslavement by a unknown band of slavers, despite numerous attempts by your truly the woman has refused to talk about her experiences within the tribe so we can only speculate what happened to such a fiery and well endowed woman in the company of such creatures.

Great entry, Trondheim. Love the idea of the glacier itself being the source / focus of the tribe's shamanistic powers. This all fleshes out your take on the idea of ogre variants nicely and adds a degree of richness and depth to the tale as a whole (which is progressing nicely, btw).

I have to say, though - when Miranda recovered consciousness in the cave I imagined her hanging from the ceiling, a la Luke Skywalker on Hoth! If only she had a lightsabre, rather than a knife ...

Thanks, well you asked for more detailed information/ background story about their shamanistic ways. Well I have to disapoint you, no ligthsabers to be found, and Miranda will come true this tale alive

gak, I missed the new entry.

Great work as always Trondheim.

Trondheim wrote:Yes my first languange is Norwegian, so your correct in that assumtion. Hmm reading out loud you say? I will definitly try that when Im alone

You learn something new about people all the time...
This is really good though. Congrats on your English, it's high standard even if it's not your first language. And the story is fantastic. I write stories too, mostly as sequels to existing books I really like, but I never finish them.
Great work, love it.

Mynameisalie wrote:

Trondheim wrote:Yes my first languange is Norwegian, so your correct in that assumtion. Hmm reading out loud you say? I will definitly try that when Im alone

You learn something new about people all the time...
This is really good though. Congrats on your English, it's high standard even if it's not your first language. And the story is fantastic. I write stories too, mostly as sequels to existing books I really like, but I never finish them.
Great work, love it.

Haha yes, you should only know what I do when Im alone in the winter,,,,, And thanks for liking my work

Chapter 10.

Gothmog was a deeply displeased dwarf, he had just regained conciseness after one of those damned beasts had thrown the mangled corpse of his most trusted casstellan at him. The loss of such a skilled servant was annoying but noting that could not be replaced in due time, there where always those ready to advance in the hierarchy of his hold. More infuriating was the loss of many slaves and several wagons due to the unexpected attack on the large encampment by these....things.

He had never seen such creatures before, and although his infernal guard had killed all but a single beast the losses where something he very much would have preferred to avoid.
He steadied himself on two warriors who supported their downed lord as he regained his balance.
The lost slaves where another grudge to be settled and the dead warriors would need replacement. But it could wait, they where only two days march from the outpost where he could resupply and gain more troops. Furthermore another three days march after that lay the lands of men.
His old devious mind conjured up images of the women that he would claim as his own, yes they would make up for the irritation this rabble had caused him.
His harsh voice sent commands and treats out into the cold morning air, and soon his caravan was once again creeping forwards.
Had the old and sadistic leader known where this path would take them he may have decided on a alternative path. For by a act of fate or the final vestige of justice the route they choose would lead them onto the lands of the Ice maw tribe.

But the meeting between these mortal foes would have to wait, because further north Greyskull prepared to rejoin his new tribe, although the arrival of a human woman might cause some problems he imagined. His kinsfolk where seldom friendly to outsiders and with good reason, even here in these barren lands vermin seeked to raid and burn, and to steal from those who would not defend what was theirs. He gazed at his new found and somewhat unwanted companion, at least she was pleasant to the eyes, that he had to give her.
“You better move unless you want to be left behind woman” he rumbled and started to walk into the snow that was falling outside the cave that had been their dwelling for the last days.

Miranda cursed while she struggled to catch up to her saviour. She thought that if she ever got away from these blasted mountains she would never complain about snow or cold weather again. Or well mannered company for that mater either, she walked behind the Ogre who had named himself as Greyskull. He seemed like a rather level-headed individual who where not going to rape her, or use her for his own enjoyment. But then again if he wanted to do that noting she could do would stop him, he was immensely tall and his great shoulders seemed like they where cut from stone. And then there was those eyes of his, they seemed to drill holes in her when they talked or when he threw a glance her way to check that she was still keeping up.
He was definitely not the rescuer she had sometimes dreamed about.

After several hours of gruelling walking true deep snow and across ice fields littered with great cracks that seemed to disappear into the very earth the duo reached familiar lands.
Miranda did not realise this and thought her new friend of sorts simply had stopped to look at the mountains or whatever Ogres looked at, but then she saw it, a massive serpentine of ice crawling down a mountain.
“Behold Miranda of the border princes, cast your eyes upon Muspelheim” Greyskull said.
He seemed to be refreshed by this sight and continued talking “Now we are almost at the camp of my clan, stay close to me. I do not know how they will react to a outsider amongst them.”

When she heard this the woman replied “ Oh by the gods, now you tell me this! Did it not occur to you that I might not fancy ending up as someone’s lunch?”

Excellent entry, as always.

You know you almost make me blush LL, anything in particualr you liked, or something you want more/less of?

I'm getting to really dislike Gothmog. Not a nice person.

On the other hand, Shrek and Fiona (sorry, the last chapter really reminded me of their first meeting) are continuing to grow on me.I look for ward to seeing how the tribe takes to her.

Gothmog not nice? I really have no idea what you mean

And yes, I realised they do somewhat remind of those two, relax I will not summon my minions to come and feast upon your soul

You'll have to face down Mrs Necroagogo for my soul, I'm afraid. I believe she's the legal owner.

Necroagogo wrote:You'll have to face down Mrs Necroagogo for my soul, I'm afraid. I believe she's the legal owner.

Haha well scratch that then, same goes for my soul I belive. Mrs Trondheim will not appricate competion I belive

So far I have read through Chapter 6. I am really enjoying it. I do not typically like dwarves (chaos or not) and I am grateful they seem to be the villains. I do not know how I feel about Ogres but you are doing an amazing job of illustrating Greyskull and his plight.

I fear for Miranda and hope she is able to rid herself of her unwanted masters.

Good to see my beloved sons of hastuth gaing new followers, and Ogers are nice fellows. And yes, I think I have done a good job with Greyskull. And Miranda is also a charaqcther I enjoy telling about, she is different from what I normaly put down in my stories

Chapter 11.

Greyskull lifted Miranda up from the ground in a single swipe of his great hands, he placed her on his shoulder so he could keep her safe. And hopefully show that this woman was not for anyone else to touch unless they wished for a merciless beating.
She protested loudly against this, saying she was capable of walking herself but a low growl from the Ogre silenced her attempts at reason, it was clear he had little patience with such things.
While she sat there and sulked it dawned on her how fast he actually moved now, the ground seemed to float by as his stout legs carried them across freezing rivers and up pebble strewn ridges that showed clear signs of having been shaped by some great force in ages past. However she did not escape one thing while she sat there and that was the freezing wind that howled across these barren glacial plains, she wrapped the great fur around herself even thither and prayed that the camp they they where headed to had some form of shelter.

Greyskull however was not troubled by the biting wind, his great body was immune to all but the most extreme of colds, and the great mane of hair he had also helped. His mind however wandered back in time, to when life had been filled with peace and the quiet life of his small tribe, even thou he had been shunned when he had demonstrated he was gifted with a devious and well developed mind that had not made him feel angry, simply challenged to prove his worth time and time again. He had lost count of the battles and skirmishes he had fought in, the long hunting trips up into the highest mountain crags and deepest vales. But now all that was just memories and there was still a blood oath to be fulfilled, he could feel it in his very bones that the time of reckoning was drawing close, and he would not face it alone that he was certain about.
His thoughts was interrupted when the voice of Miranda could be heard “ I said how far until we reach this camp of yours?”
The reply was short even for him “ Soon, cant you smell it girl”.

Miranda sniffed the air and she could only smell her own rather unpleasant odour and the somewhat harsh smell that seemed to emit from Greyskull shaggy mane, and she told him that.
She expected to get a telling of but instead a low rumbling laughter erupted from her companion massive chest.
He began to walk once again and now shifter Miranda so that she sat with one leg on each side of his massive neck, this allowed her to relax and wrap herself better in the warm furs he had given her, she soon found herself drifting of into the quiet realm of sleep or something that resembled it.

Greyskull waded across the last ford before the camp, he stood for a moment and offered a silent prayer to Muspelheim for guiding him back safely this time too.
He made sure his companion sat safely and began the final approach to the camp.




She awoke when with a startled lurch into being wide awake. She looked around and saw tents and a massive hall standing before her, and all around great shaggy warriors stood with weapons barred and grim faces. She felt fear gripp her heart as she imagied her last hour had come. She sensed a change in Greyskull too, he seemed tense and on edge.

With a careful move of his arm he sat her down on the ground beside him, and addressed the crowd of gathered warriors “ Hear me kinsfolk, you all remember my joining and the oat I swore on the great ice itself! I now bring you another proof of their cowardly ways! They steal defenceless women away to use as toys and other foul things! What say you to these things” he roared to the now buzzing crowd.
Muttering to Miranda he said “Show them your scars.... ALL of them. Fear not I will guard you” he said with a tone that left no doubt about it.
She felt a pang of dread gripping her already bruised and batherd hearth, but she knew that to disregard this request was to invite certain disaster. So slowly while she stood by the massive figure of her new-found protector she began to undress, first she dropped the heavy furs. Then with freezing fingers she undid the buttons in her travel worn shirt, she let it fall down while she covered her now exposed breasts with one hand, j as she undressed she turned around to show her branded and wiped back, that was a patchwork of scars and recently healed bruises. As she was about to drop her pants when she was interrupted by someone who called above the angry mutterings of the gathered warriors

“Enough of this! I speak for the hole tribe warrior when I say I think we have seen enough, anyone who scars such a fragile ting in such ways are only worthy of death!” The speaker now appeared, it was a enormous beast of a Ogre, that bore heavy sings of age and countless battles fought and won.
He walked with a slight limp but still emitted a aura of absolute dominance.
He stopped in front of Greyskull and said “ You have by bringing this fragile ting here the cowardice of those who you hunt...they will know terror when they meet us on the battlefield! TO WAR!” the old tyrant roared and was answered by a thundering response from his underlings

Devious bugger, old Greyskull. Quite the politician, I reckon. Does he have real levels of empathy, or is everything calculated to further his own ends?

Necroagogo wrote:Devious bugger, old Greyskull. Quite the politician, I reckon. Does he have real levels of empathy, or is everything calculated to further his own ends?

Indeed, I had origianly mapped him out as a bit dumb. but as the story progressed and new ideas came to mind I decided the old world was ripe for a devious Ogre named Greyskull, As regarding his empaty/ calculating to reach his own ends time and new chapters will tell