Prologue

Sais Enra, the First Seat of the High Counsil of Enra, exacts his revenge.

Prologue

 

           The room was a towering construct, obviously crafted from the innards of a mighty tree. Emerald sunbeams shone inward through arched windows. Buttresses accompanied the glass frames, lining the walls and ascending upwards to convene at the peak of the chamber. Encompassing a great bowl-shaped alter was an elegant table in the form of a crescent, and around this table sat nine Elves each decorated with elaborate yet delicate raiment and jewelry. Raining down from their dainty hoods flowed silky locks of golden hair that for some would rest just behind their clasped hands. The only member whose face revealed substantial aging resided in the center on a grand chair that was spattered with ornate markings and text. His intricately braided hair and piercing eyes were that of steel, and his face was lightly dusted with fine wrinkles. This was First Seat Enra. He was decidedly the wisest of the Council and had utmost authority over the happenings of the Elven kingdom. On either side of the eldest Elf was the remainder of the Council, all resting in their smaller, far less significant seats. An unsettling tension etched itself into the air, causing a handful of the members to fidget apprehensively. The youngest of the Council spoke out.

            "Are you sure this is a good idea?" the Fifth Seat questioned.

            The First Seat snapped, "You dare question my decision, Devron?"

            "Of course not, Lord Enra, I was just--"

            "Good. Know your place, Fifth Seat Devron,” Enra interjected, “There's a reason I am the head of the Council."

            The High Council conquered, nodding in agreement. Devron had heard rumors of Enra’s wrath and kept his following retort internal, though he wished to the Goddess of the Forest that he had spoken against the First Seat.

            Third Seat Gammon asked, "Will we begin the procedure soon?"

            "Yes. Right now, in fact. Bring in the Orcs!" Enra barked to the Elven guards.

            The Orcs were a handsome race of warriors, and these three proved no different. Their bare skin betrayed their intense muscles, although the chains they bore weighed enough to slow a horse, slouching their bodies in humiliating manner. They were forcibly put into a triangle around a bowl-shaped alter in the center of the room, surrounded by the crescent table. Enra stood up and walked around to the Orcs, drawing a knife from his belt. To the guards, he ordered, "Leave us."

            The Orcs were gagged, though one of them was able to spit out the balled up rag in his mouth and shout, "We haven't done anything! This is against the Treaty!"

            "The Treaty is no more," Enra said coolly, hate dripping from his icy voice, "The Orcs ended that long ago."

            "You can't do this!"

            Enra screamed wildly, "Can't I?!" Silence echoed through the room. The void of sound would have given any normal person a headache. The hush was ended with a delusional cackle resounding from Enra's throat. "This is all you're fault!" Enra claimed, "And I'm going to show the world what you Orcs really are! Humans, Dwarves, Elves, and Gnomes alike will spit at your feet! They will look upon you in disgust!" Enra was salivating to the point where spit flew from his mouth with every punctuation. "They will fear you, for they will see what you for what you are! Monsters!"

          With that, Enra slashed at the Orc's throats, one by one, and pushed their faces over the alter. Blood spurted from their necks, filling the bowl nearly to the brim. After each body collapsed to the floor as an empty husk, Enra began chanting in an ancient language, quickly followed by the other eight seats.

 

          Rens fo sha ne gan tu paal re

          Ein tu faa na egns dur gaan da

          Paalbor na dshin ecst tu faa rin

          Keil fiy brey san ei gan daal dshan

 

          With each repetition, the Elves chanted faster and louder, creating a booming cacophony of voice. For nearly an hour they recited the ancient words, causing the Orc blood to writhe and boil, bursting bubbles of the crimson liquid and spattering on Enra's clothes and face. When the chanting did stop, it was abrupt; all of the Counsil members except for Enra crumpled unconscious in their seats. A maniacal grin cracked the First Seat's face in two as he eagerly searched the three dead bodies around the alter. Sure enough, the curse worked.

          The once beautiful Orc men were now hideous, resembling boars with their now upturned noses and large, pointed teeth. Their skin turned an ashy green and their hair a hideous muted version of their original tones. Enra whooped triumphantly, knowing that every Orc had been changed to look this way. Revenge was finally his.

 

 

Author's Note

Yes, I am aware that it's supposed to be spelled council. I intentionally misspelled it in an attempt to make the High Counsil seem more important.