Original Submissions by Belenos

• 

  The Story of Muk Utep
  Added on Dec 4, 2012

  c.400 -- A hitherto unkown warrior named Muk Utep sacks the twelve tribes at Gol Krathu with an army of terrible barbarians out of the northwest. The tribes called the Elves of Mallok and the Twin Warlocks are among the conquered. The city-state of Tuluk begins to rise under Utep the Sun King.

  ---

  "There is something depressing about the ending of these battles," Muk Utep
  thought as he stared out over the canyon below. Thin trails of smoke curled
  up from the ashen remains of numerous fires as a couple of physicians worked
  their way through fallen warriors. Muk crossed his arms and let out a slow
  sigh as he surveyed the ruins of the battle scene before him. "How many times
  has this played out before?" Muk thought as a hot desert breeze stirred up the
  sand beneath his feet.
  
  Muk was a large man. Near eight feet from head to toe, he stood well above
  most men. With a musculature borne of a lifetime of battling, Muk was easily the
  most impressive warrior on any battlefield. His thickly braided hair shone
  with the color of a Zalathan sunset, a deep crimson not dissimilar to the
  blood he had spilled so many times during battle. Crimson is a color he knew
  all too well. Muk's prowess in the art of war was unparalleled. It was known
  far and wide that no one could defeat the massive warrior, no matter how small
  an army he wielded.
  
  Muk turned his attention from the battlefield and watched as a man by
  the name of Ameit, a wiry man with greying hair the color of withering numut
  vines approached from below. This man, a lieutenant falling directly under
  Muk Utep himself, paused then offered a shallow bow to Muk. Muk barely tipped
  his head in a return acknowledgment.
  
  "Sir," stated Ameit, calmly with the quiet self assurance of a victor,
  "The last of the tribe has scattered. They are no longer a threat to our men."
  Muk shrugged with a casual movement, as if the news held no more importance than
  announcing that the evening meal was ready.
  
  "They have contacted your mind have they not Lieutenant? Agreed to the
  meeting of the twelve?"
  
  "Yes, Warlord," Ameit stammered, unsure of where to continue. It was
  unsettling when Muk Utep seemed to know things before they happened.
  
  "We will meet in a month's time, here in the Gol Krathu," Muk continued on,
  "We will meet at the site of the final battle. There is much we need to do,
  tell the men to start preparations."
  
  Ameit drew himself to attention, nodding quickly at Muk, "Yes, Warlord."
  Ameit paused and looked to Muk with a tired tone in his voice. "Will this work,
  Warlord? I mean, can the twelve tribes really be brought together in this
  vision of yours? It is so hard to tell what will happen in the future. Our
  luck could simply just run out."
  
  Drawing himself up to his full eight feet, Muk Utep shifted his gaze to Ameit,
  allowing the tone of his baritone voice to ring out over the canyon. "We will
  succeed, as long as everyone does exactly as I direct them."
  
  "Yes, Warlord." Amiet recoiled at Muk's words. "I'll not doubt your
  directions again." Amiet quickly scrambled down the path toward the canyon
  below, leaving the large man behind.
  
  Muk Utep closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the visions to
  spill before him. Before him lay crystalline threads, each stretching off
  into the distance. There were only a few threads close to him, yet as they
  stretched out in the distance they branched off numerous times, becoming
  tangled and indistinct. Muk took one of those threads and rode it, traveling
  along as he watched future events unfold.
  
  You see, Muk Utep's prowess in battle lay in the simple fact that Muk could
  see the future that lay before him. Muk could travel paths that would show
  defeat and victory. As long as he chose the correct path, he was unstoppable,
  for who could ever stop a foe who always knew what you were going to do
  before even you did?
  
  Muk knew this particular thread well, he traveled it often, yet no matter
  how often he traveled it, he could not grasp its meaning. This twisted path
  led to an unimaginable strangeness, to a world with familiar elements to it,
  yet other elements so utterly bizarre he could not fathom their purpose. He
  backtracked into more familiar territory, away from the strange future. The
  threads that lay closest to the present were much more comforting. The closer
  they were to now, there were fewer threads, and each vision was clearer.
  To dwell too long in the far future would risk madness.
  
  Muk once again opened his eyes and felt the hot desert wind upon his skin.
  He turned his attention to the canyons below, and the fallen warriors he had
  so readily defeated. He shrugged his shoulders and walked the path to the
  battlefield. He would do what he could to tend to his defeated enemy and
  prepare for the upcoming meeting. The troubling dark visions would as always
  need to wait for another day.

  "There is something depressing about the ending of these battles," Muk Utep
  thought as he stared out over the canyon below. Thin trails of smoke curled
  up from the ashen remains of numerous fires as a couple of physicians worked
  their way through fallen warriors. Muk crossed his arms and let out a...
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