Short Story: Becoming the Kuldjargh

  • Deep in the highlands of the Wrothgarian Mountains is a small village; home to an orc settlement. Most of their living is made on farming while a small number hire out at mercenaries and travel around Tamriel. Little draws attention to this habitat as they struggle to make their living away from prying eyes. Forty years ago, that all changed. This is the story about Krilge-gro-Naguk, son of Naguk-gro-Knagh and grandson of Knagh-gro-Zaraugug.

    Knagh was a well known tribal chieftain, presiding over the daily affairs of Savirien; his village which was named for Savirien-Chorak the Emperor-Potentate of the Second Empire who was assassinated. While the world at large is unsure of the culprits, the people of Savirien know the truth about the assassins; they were Kuldjargh from their very village. A Kuldjargh had not been born into the blood for many years.


    * * * * *


    A Kuldjargh, or Axe Idiot, is slang in orcish culture for an orc too stupid to use his axe. This, of course like most things, is overly simplified in it's explanation and meaning. Truthfully, a Kuldjargh is an orc of rare birth, for better or worse, who usually becomes one of the most fearsome fighters of his generation. They forego weapons and weapon training and instead focus on martial skills of hand to hand combat, sort of. To help in their pursuit of unarmed combat, they also become expert smiths. Crafting armor with care and precision, they are looking for protection but also looking for maximum flexibility The reason for this quickly becomes apparent when a Kuldjargh enters combat as they use their armor as an actual weapon to batter, bludgeon and slice their foes to ribbons; and they never relent until one of the two combatants is lying dead on the ground.

    The armorsmithing of a Kuldjargh is something to behold. It typically takes him twice as long just to craft his armor due to the care for movement that he takes to incorporate into the suit of metal. However, it's once the suit is completed that his true smithing actually begins and he turns a suit of armor into Battle Rager armor. The labor of “bending” is one not well known outside of Kuldjargh smiths. It's largely self taught and can take decades to master. For months, the orc smith will sit with his armor and cut small folds into the fresh suit of armor. While this would be considered sacrilegious by most smiths, the Kuldjargh considers this the epitome of crafting. He folds thousands of “bends” into his armor and then takes each v-shaped bend and sharpens the bend to a razors sharp edge; thus giving thousands of razor sharp blades protruding from every surface of every piece of armor worn, covering the Kuldjargh from head to foot.

    * * * * *


    Knagh ruled the stronghold of Savirien for almost sixty years; an extremely long rule for an orc. He outlived challenges from twelve sons before finally succumbing to the successful challenge by his youngest, Naguk who was a natural born warrior. Naguk sired thirty children, through his twelve wives, so far during his life. He has been Chieftain for twelve years to date, still young enough to have not been challenged by any of his sires. Many of his children have grown and moved into other areas of society; farming in the village, his daughters have begun working at the forges, and several have found fame and fortune in various settlements around Tamriel.

    Forty years ago, his youngest son was born, this would be Krilge. At birth there was nothing extremely different about him, when compared to his brothers and sisters. He was a strong and healthy orc-child. He progressed normally, as expected by the elders, in his growth and studies. He was very close to his mother, Grazob. As the second-wife, she was in charge of the forges and handled all the smithing duties for the stronghold. Krilge would spend hours at the forge watching his mother beat molten steel into various accouterments of war. He began to learn how to swing a smith-hammer and molded his first set of iron gauntlets at the ripe age of eight. Thus began a lifelong fascination with armor crafting, a skill which would come to serve him well.

    Things began to change, going back a few years. During an education session at the age of six, a fight broke out among several students. One young orc was attacked by a group of three others; known for their bullying tactics, and they were giving it to this young orc. This is not unusual in any city or village, certainly not in an orc stronghold where “might makes right”. Spilling blood is not uncommon in the culture. Fighting is revered although kin-killing is not. In the midst of this three-on-one scuffle, a flash of lightning interjected itself, in the form of Krilge, as he inserted himself between the victim and the attackers. He did this by pulling down one of the young bullies from behind and smashing a boot squarely in the young orcs mouth, causing a spray of blood to issue forth in a geyser.

    Naturally this quickly attracted the attention of the two other antagonists who turned away from their easy prey to evaluate this new possibility. Very striking, and off-putting to say the least, was the young Krilge who stood silently under the spray of blood and letting it rain down upon him with a beautific look on his face. He then took his hands, smeared the blood on his face into war-paint streaks, and turned his attention to the two remaining boys with a gleam in his eye and a grin on his lips.

    The duo spread out to either side of young Krilge, setting up an ambush and using tactics taught in the warfare classes. Krilge would have nothing to do with this, rather he barreled head first into the largest boy that was circling to his left. Immediately upon seizing his opponent, Krilge began pummeling the young Orc with every extremity at his disposal; raining down fists and elbows; kicks and knees and even an occasional headbutt; flattening the boy's already piggish nose even more. The second, of the pair, took advantage to jump on Krilge's back and began attempting to choke Krilge and cut off the youngsters airflow. Krilge refused to even acknowledge the presence of this attack; continuing to focus on the foe in his grasp. He continued to rain down blows, paying no heed to his lack of oxygen, until his muscles would no longer respond to his brains commands; and he slipped into unconsciousness.


    * * * * *


    Light penetrated the cracks in his eyelid as he began to feel the pain radiating throughout every pore of his body. He could sense he was lying on his back in a darkened room, with some light seeping in from his left side. He began to take note of the pains that assaulted his senses and quickly lost count. As he began to move he felt a hand press down on his chest and heard his father's voice. “Hold, my son,” his father grunted. Lying back he tried to turn his head towards his father's voice, unable to fully open his eyes. His father explained that Krilge had suffered serious injuries in the fight and had been unconscious for several weeks. Both of his arms were in casts and his head was wrapped in bandages to stem the significant bleeding he was suffering from when he first arrived for medical attention. As the father and the son conversed, as the sun set behind the windowsill, Krilge realized the extent of his injuries. What he was just beginning to realize was the reason they had happened and what he had done to cause them.


    * * * * *


    The boy was fearful for his friend as he watched Krilge pummel him with elbows and headbutts, flaying open the flesh of his face and watching his blood spill into the dirt. He leapt onto Krilge's back and threw his arms around the orc's throat and began to choke the life from him in an attempt to stop the assault. Krilge appeared to be unphased as the blows continued to rain down upon the unconscious youth who mere moments before had been enjoying some friendly banter with his friends as they punched a younger orc child to pass the time. Krilge's greenish tint began to darken as he began suffering from air loss. His vision dimmed as he continued to rain fists down into the grotesque visage that was a classmate of his. In a sudden explosive burst, he leapt up to his feet, an unusual feat of strength and determination, especially with another orc on his back. It was obvious to all surveying the carnage that young Krilge was acting solely on autopilot and had no control over his own movements as he was, or should be, unconscious from the choke hold applied on him.

    Krilge reached to his sides and grasped the choker's head between his hands. Holding his head tight he throws himself backwards, landing with all his weight on the third boy. With a solid “Oof!”, Krilge maintained his death grip on the boys head and began to drive the back of his head into the soft nose of the youngster. At the site of this, the other children that had been cheering on the fight moments before began screaming for their elders. Adults swarmed into the area, Krilge's father the Chief included, and all stood stunned by what they saw transpiring. It took three grown orcs to haul Krilge off the two boys; and they had to pummel him into submission; inflicting severe damage to the youth. As they gasped for air, the three men looked at one another with raised eyebrows; and Naguk knew he had a serious problem.


    * * * * *


    Time passed and wounds healed. Krilge was ostracized now by most in his village and he took to spending even more time with his mother at the forges. It was now a well accepted fact that Krilge was, in fact, a Kuldjargh. He continued to perfect his smithing skills and built his first set of Battle Rager armor. He continued to hone his close-combat fighting skills and fighting style. He learned to let the armor do the work for him. A typical fight with a Kuldjargh would see him attempt to lock up with you in melee combat; grabbing you tightly with both arms and legs. Once he had you secured he would then facilitate a seizure type gyration in which the bends in his armor would inflict a thousand wounds ensuring a slow bleed out death.

    He knew that he would never succeed his father as Chieftain and that his future lay in another direction; outside of the Stronghold. He continued to train and work towards the day when he would turn his back on his clan and venture out into the wide world; one of the most single minded and fearsome fighters the world would ever know.


  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  January 1, 2016
    Why wouldn't it be okay? I think it's fine. 
  • Ragin Cajun
    Ragin Cajun   ·  January 1, 2016
    It is Lissette.  Since I created the build loosely based on lore and brought over from an alternate gaming reality (lol) I thought my short story could kind of tie in exactly what the Kuldjargh were in more detail than I could lay out in my build synopsis...  more
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  January 1, 2016
    This based on your build?