The Sacrifice - Written Version

Well, the criticism's, er, accolades, have already started to come in!

Due to the fact that I'm not going to re-record any of this book, this book was the first attempt, that is why it is free, I will instead post the written version for anyone who wonders what I'm really saying.

And I guess, I'll try harder next time. No point listening to an audio book if you have to read along to understand it.

Part 1: A Roll of the Dice

Deep inside the bowels of the Crimson Citadel, in a forgotten room once filled to overflowing with the greatest sorcerer’s and warlock’s of the Land of Azonia, a game of chance was under way. A single roll of the dice would decide the fate of humanity.

The old room was lit with candles that cast shadows in cobwebs and dust. The air was musty and rank. The room was creepy quiet as the players held their breath in anticipation of the outcome of the rolled dice.

At the far end of an ancient oak table, four individuals hunkered over the dice game and watched with feverish intensity.

“Ha-ha, I just rolled two 3’s! I get three more rolls,” said the goblin general, Argon. He danced on the table top and giggled. He of little stature, with a bulbous nose, pointy ears and a sharp-toothed grin, picked up the dice and shook them inside his cupped fist. His worn leather armor creaked as he bent down and set loose the dice. They tumbled out of his tiny hand and onto the dark wood. Argon held his breath.

“Double one’s, you’re done,” quoth the skeleton commander, Nocturnus. He wore a suit of black armor over fleshless bones. The suit clanked when he picked the dice up with his gauntlet hand. “You’re done, little man.” The dice clinked inside the shaken metal fist.

The goblin general held his tongue and it was agony. Soon he wouldn’t have to hold it, once the truce between the three armies came to an end.

“Little man, ha-ha, good one,” laughed the mummy king, Khendu. A giant of a man - before he was undead - his croaked laughter was unsettling. His eyes were black and hollow. He was wrapped in rotted bandages, his flesh was blackened and decayed. King Khendu wasn’t worried about the game of chance - unbeknownst to the goblin general and his army of ogres and trolls - Nocturnus and Khendu had agreed to wipe the land clean of the gruesome creatures before their armies would battle each other for the Scepter of Infinite Power. Getting rid of the stinky imps and their loathsome guardians first was a no-brainer.

“Double sixes,” Khendu said. “The Goddess of the Skies smiles upon you, Nocturnus. Six more rolls.”

The goblin groaned, the skeleton smiled to himself.

“I’m dead,” said Father Davos. The priest was robed in soft brown cloth, his bald head was recessed in the hood of his cloak. “I can’t win.”

Of that, there was no doubt. The dice game had been rigged and could only end one way - with the sacrifice of the last living human, Father Davos. His blood would be used to open the Chamber of Secrets, hidden beneath the Crimson Citadel. Eons ago the powerful Sorcerer’s Guild had created the chamber to house powerful items that must never be held in the hands of their enemies. Their enemies were creatures that they had created with their own hands and who had risen against them. To rid the world of all humanity, the three armies - goblin, skeleton and mummy - had forged an alliance and a truce that would end, when the last human had been sacrificed and his blood used to destroy the Crimson Citadel and reveal beneath it, the Chamber of Secrets - which housed the Scepter of Infinite Power.

Nocturnus spilled the dice onto the table and the priest gulped as another pair of sixes were revealed.

“Well, would you look at that,” Nocturnus said. “Maybe the Goddess of the Skies really is smiling upon me. Six more rolls.”

“She certainly isn’t smiling upon me,” groaned the priest. “Goddess, why have you forsaken me?” The Goddess had punished the humans for their impertinence. When man decided to play Goddess and brought humans back from the grave, she unleashed her rage at them and would now let them die off as punishment.

At the peak of power, the Land of Azonia had been home to three hundred-thousand humans, with armies of warlocks and priestesses keeping their enemies at bay. 

On their own, each of the three armies had made failed attempts at uprising. The skeleton army, led by Nocturnus and his Hellhounds, had 10,000 soldiers that could only be killed by the removal and destruction of their skulls. The mummy army had 12,000 undead soldiers and could only be destroyed with fire. The goblin army had 50,000 of the little buggers and their disgusting trolls and ogres. Separate the armies had failed, together they had been invincible. They slaughtered the humans and reduced their number from 300,000 to 1. Father Davos.

It had been Argon who had approached Nocturnus and Khendu about the truce - goblin’s made up for their lack of size with cunning and guile. Much to his surprise, the monsters had agreed and the three armies united, for a time. As they sat around the table, toying with the pitiful priest, each of them knew that the time was soon approaching when they would once again be pitted against each other for control of Azonia and the Scepter of Infinite Power. With the scepter all dreams were possible, including bringing the undead back to true life.

The smirking skeleton continued to roll matching pairs, the priest began to sob.

“This just isn’t your day,” Nocturnus said and rolled the dice. Double sixes again.

“He could still win,” said the goblin. “He wins, he lives.”

Father Davos would not win. In his hands were magical dice and his fate had been set. The skeleton, mummy and goblin knew this and enjoyed watching the human squirm. They savored the moment. It’s not every day you got to kill off all humanity.

The skeleton rolled a pair of ones and his turn was over.

“Your turn,” said Nocturnus. He tossed the dice at the priest.

In a fit of fear, the priest jumped up from the table and ran.

Nocturnus rose from the table and shot fire from his mouth. The priest’s robe was incinerated so quick it disappeared into a vortex of atoms. He was naked.

“Disgusting,” said the goblin. Humans grossed him out. Naked humans more so. He preferred the brownish hue and reek of a goblin princess. Soon he would celebrate his victory with the bedding of many.

“Get back here and roll the dice,” demanded the mummy.

Scared and shaky, Father Davos returned to the table and picked up the dice. He trembled and sweat like a pig, despite his nakedness.

The skeleton smiled. The mummy rubbed his hands together and pieces of rotted flesh littered the table beneath them. The goblin stood on the table next to the priest and grinned.

“Do it,” Argon urged.

The priest began to shake the dice. He shook them hard and prayed for a miracle that wasn’t coming. He held onto them for dear life. He wished he could hold them forever and never let go.

“Roll them!” the skeleton bellowed and shot fire at the priest. With the smell of burnt flesh in his nostrils, Father Davos panicked and dropped the dice. They spilled onto the table.

“No!” screamed the priest.

Double ones.

“You’re done,” said goblin general.

The three of them laughed. Nocturnus gave Khendu a high-five. The goblin did a jig.

“It’s over,” said Khendu, his dead eyes lit up. “Guards, come get the human.”

A door opened from outside the citadel. Sunlight spilled into the hall and revealed the panic and fear on the priests face as skeleton sentinels grabbed his naked body and dragged him outside.

The others followed.

Part 2: Choose Your Warrior

The Crimson Citadel sat high atop the cliffs of Pandorum, perched below the Mountains of Sabitha. The citadel had been painted with the blood of unsuccessful usurpers.

The cliffs of Pandorum overlooked the Plains of Azaroth and from where they stood, the goblin general, skeleton commander and mummified king could see their assembled armies as they waited for word of the sacrifice.

Khendu took the priest from the skeleton sentinels and held him upside down. He swung him over the edge of the cliff.

“This is the last human!” He bellowed to the swarm of soldiers far down below.

A roar rose up from the crowd that echoed in the mountain crevice.

The priest squirmed in Khendu’s grip, as he preferred to die from falling from that height, rather than how he was destined to die. The king dangled the priest over the precipice and enjoyed his frightful expression.

“It’s time to battle for the right to kill the human,” he called down to the crowd. “We have each chosen our fiercest warrior to battle for the right to make the sacrifice.”

The commander, general and king each wanted the right to slice the priests throat. After much debate it was decided that the only fair thing would be to battle for the sacrifice. If the priest really was the last living human, his blood would kick start a chain of events that would begin with the Crimson Citadel crumbling into nothingness. Beneath the ruins would be the gate that led to the Chamber of Secrets.

If the citadel crumbled, it would be proof that Davos was the last human and the truce would be over. The final war for Azonia would begin.

With the citadel in the background, Khendu hung the priest upside down on a rack. He tied him tight. The man whimpered and sobbed. The crowd was thrilled.

“Here come the warriors,” Khendu called down and the three competitors revealed themselves.

For the fight, the goblin general had chosen Slorg, a 30 ft troll with arms like tree trunks and a skull that would be impossible to spit. As the troll moved toward the battleground, he held a giant battle axe in his monstrous hands while the mountains quaked beneath his feet.

The skeleton commander had chosen a different tact, going for grace and savagery over brute strength. His choice, Sir Ruckus, had been the Azonian Champion, back before he was murdered in his sleep. And long before he had been risen from the grave. Covered in black armor that clanked when he walked, the skeleton of Sir Ruckus headed toward the battlefield. With his broadsword held in both hands, he was eager for the battle to commence.

The third and final competitor was the mummified remains of an Azonian giant, Toothless. He had worked for the sorcerer’s back when he was still alive and had been one of the first beings brought back to life, he was very powerful. He had the perfect combination of cunning, speed and agility and his large frame made him, in Khendu’s mind, the perfect mummy for the job.

The three warriors sneered at their competitors, each believing they would be the victor.

“Warriors, begin!” announced the king.

The three competitors circled their prey. The troll swung his axe at the dead knight, Sir Ruckus danced out of the way. The skeleton jabbed his sword at the troll, the monster laughed and pulled the broadsword away from him. Slorg tossed the sword over the edge of the cliff. The crowd roared down below. Slorg swung his axe at the skeleton and Sir Ruckus was smashed to pieces. The troll stomped on the helmeted skull and crushed it into dust. Nocturnus sighed, they had lost.

One competitor down.

The troll and the towering mummy eyed each other. They circled and ducked. They swung their weapons with swift precision. Missing his prey, Slorg tripped over a boulder and fell on his back. Seizing the opportunity, Toothless jumped on top of the troll and raised his sword above his head, ready for the strike. Slorg fought back. He picked up the mummy and slammed him over his knee. The mummy broke in half and turned to dust. Khendu was defeated.

The winner was the goblin general, he had picked the right warrior.

“You did it, you ugly bastard!” Argon was ecstatic. The troll pumped his fists. The goblin pulled his knife from its sheath and walked over to the hung priest. The man’s head was purple and bulging from all the blood that had rushed to his head.

“Any last words, priest?” the goblin asked. He placed his knife on the man’s neck. Argon could see the blood pulsing through his veins. He wanted to see the blood flow.

“If this is a dream, please wake me now, Goddess,” he begged for his life.

And he waited.

Nothing changed.

Argon slid his knife across the priests neck and the head was nearly severed from the body. The man gurgled one last time before dying.

Blood poured from the body and into a hole in the ground.

Was Father Davos really the last of the humans?

All eyes were on the Crimson Citadel.

Part 3: Battle for Azonia

Silence and anticipation.

It was the sound of a loud crack that broke the stillness in the air. Everyone stared as citadel began to shake and boulders fell from the sky. The goblin ducked under his troll. Slorg swatted the boulders as a human would do a fly, if there were any humans left. As the citadel began to crumble before their very eyes, it was proof that humanity was indeed done.

“It’s happening,” Argon yelled up at Slorg from between his legs. “Yes!”

What Khendu had expected, was that the citadel would collapse into a heap of rock and dirt. What he saw instead was the building lean to the left until it broke the moorings and fell to the ground. As the building hit the ground, it disappeared. Two seconds ago an ancient, powerful structure stood before their very eyes. Now there was nothing.

A deafening roar rose from the valley.

“Incredible,” muttered Nocturnus.

“Didn’t see that coming,” said Argon as he stepped out from between Slorg’s legs. The goblin couldn’t believe what had just happened. He scurried over to where the citadel once stood and searched for the gate to the Chamber of Secrets.

Something caught his eye.

“It’s over here,” he called to the others.

Khendu and Nocturnus made their way to the annoying twerp. There, beneath his leather boots, was the gate to Chamber of Secrets. On the stone gate were the words Secretum Cubiculum. Nocturnus couldn’t believe what he was reading. Was it possible that the Scepter of Infinite Power could bring him back to life? There was only one way to find out.

Nocturnus nodded at Khendu.

Khendu nodded back.

It was on.

Khendu bent down and swiped at the goblin. Argon rolled away in the nick of time.

“What are you doing?” cried the goblin.

“Killing you,” said the king. The mummy grabbed for the goblin and caught him by the ankle. Argon squirmed in his grasp. Khendu grabbed him by the neck and began to crush his windpipe. A giant fist fell from the sky with such speed and intensity, Khendu was pounded to dust. Slorg bent down and blew away the king. Khendu was dust in the wind.

“Nice one!” said the goblin general.

Nocturnus stood and stared.

Slorg leaned down, picked up the skeleton, plucked his head from his body and tossed the skeleton over the cliff. He handed the helmeted skull to Argon and the goblin walked to the edge of the cliff.

“We are victorious!” he yelled down to his army as he held up the skull for all to see. “Let’s go,” he called over to Slorg. The troll plucked the goblin from the ground and slipped him into the pocket of his leather vest.

Slorg headed down the side of the mountain and ran toward the Plains of Azonia, where the battle had begun.

It was a maelstrom of chaos, sand and blood as the three armies fought for control of Azonia and the right to wield the Scepter of Infinite Power. Years ago the Land of Azonia had flourished and been covered in lush vegetation, now it was scorching desert.

The goblins outnumbered the skeleton and mummy armies 2:1. The trolls and ogres lead the charge, pounding skeletons and mummy’s into dust and sand.

Crushing their enemies, the goblin army took control of the battle and there was little that could be done to stop them.

From the far end of the skeleton army, came a chorus of howling. The army parted and a hundred Hellhounds emerged. With blood red eyes and rotted breath, the Hellhounds were hideous. The horrible things stood in formation and waited for the command to attack. They waited for word from their master, the Dark Empress.

The Dark Empress had once been the fiercest priestess in all of Azonia. She had been instrumental in the construction of the Crimson Citadel and had been feared throughout the land. Experiments with black magic had turned her on to evil and she had manipulated her way into control of the citadel, until the curse. A war had begun over control of the citadel and the Sorcerer’s Guild. Her enemies cast a spell on her followers and banished their souls to the underworld. They were cursed to walk the earth as skeletons. In the underworld their souls would be tortured by the ruling demon, the Doomlord.

The Dark Empress made her way to the front of the crowd. She wore black armor and a golden crown with a large blue gem encrusted in it. Astride an enormous skeleton of a mastodon, she held a wooden staff with an incredible blue gem that glowed with brilliance, the Poisonstone. Whomever held the staff, controlled the Hellhounds and the victims of their bites. The bite from a Hellhound was poisonous and once bitten, the victim became a soldier for the Dark Empress.

“Attack!” she screamed and the Hellhounds unleashed a lethal assault. The beasts ignored the mummy army and went straight for the goblins. The ones that weren’t devoured, were poisoned and put under a spell. With the Dark Empress at the helm, the skeleton army fought their way back into control, they were so strong and powerful.

As the goblins continued to fall, the trolls and ogres smashed and destroyed anyone who stood in their way. Slorg and his twin brothers, Gruel and Slum, towered over everybody. An ogre battalion fought beneath them and they held their ground. The battle was brutal.

The Hellhounds made their way to the trolls. It took a dozen of them to take down Slum and he tumbled to the earth, crushing foe and friend alike. It took more then one bite, but the hounds injected enough of their venom and the Dark Empress had complete control of the troll. She got him to his feet and forced him to fight his brothers. They punched each other, kicked and stabbed, fought for their lives.

Argon, who sat in Slorg’s pocket directed the troll to find the Empress.

“We need to get that staff,” he told the troll. “Ogres, follow us!” he called down. It would take their pure, raw power to overtake the Hellhounds that guarded the Dark Empress.

The ogres smashed their way to the Empress and charged the mastodon. They hit the creature so hard it crumbled and the Empress fell onto the ground and dropped the staff.

Slorg bent down and picked up the staff. In his giant hands it looked like a puny toothpick. The troll raised the staff over his head.

“No!” screamed the Dark Empress.

“Stop, don’t!” warned Argon.

With a momentous swing, Slorg smashed the staff against the land and the headpiece, the Poisonstone, burst into blue crystal shards.

For a brief moment, Azonia stood frozen in time.

Nothing moved. Nobody breathed.

There was a bright flash and a thunderous clap and the world came back to life.

Beneath the feet of Slorg a black hole began to appear in the sand and he ran away. 

“Move it, dummy!” cried Argon.

The black circular hole grew large and anyone near the opening was sucked into it. Skeletons and mummy’s were drawn in and disappeared, their screams muted. The black hole continued to swirl and grow in size as it swallowed the land.

A flash of fire shot out of the hole and an ear-splitting roar rose from within.

A giant hand came from inside the black hole, followed by another. The hands were the size of at least two trolls, they were gigantic, and another roar erupted from the underworld.

The hideous horned head of the Doomlord slid up through the black hole and he roared again as his shoulders crested the land.

“Impossible,” uttered the Dark Empress as she stared at the great demon lord.

For a moment, all the armies stood still.

The Doomlord scooped up soldiers by the dozen and stuffed them into his mouth and chewed them to bits. He spat fire and bones.

He pushed himself further out of the hole, he was out up to his waist.

The trolls ran. The demon squished ogres beneath his giant claws and blood soaked into the sand.

The armies forgot about the battle and ran.

“Diabolus domum!” chanted the Dark Empress. Devil go home. “Diabolus Domum!” over and over again.

The Doomlord reached for the priestess, she was too far away. She continued to chant and he began to sink into the black hole.

“It’s working!” cheered Argon.

“Diabolus Domum!” chanted the goblins, skeletons and mummy’s. They unified their efforts to banish the Doomlord back to the underworld. It would take the power of all the armies to defeat the beast.

The demon screamed and fought the pull. The chanting grew louder.

The blue gem in her crown began to glow and the Dark Empress continued to curse the demon. The gem grew so bright, the trolls had to cover their eyes lest they be blinded by the brightness.

The Doomlord roared and cursed and sank into the hole, but not before eating ogres, skeletons and trolls by the handful. The three armies united their efforts and fought the great demon. If the Doomlord escaped the underworld, he would release his legion of demons onto the land and bring hell upon Azonia.

The Doomlord sunk further, all that was left was a single hand. The hole began to close. The Doomlord grabbed the Empress and pulled her down into the underworld with him. Her screaming could be heard until the black hole sealed itself. The sand was charred black in a circular pattern where the hole used to be.

The skeletons fell to the earth and collapsed into a heap of dusty bones.

They were done.

The mummy army turned to sand and sank into the land.

From his vantage point, in the pocket of a huge troll, Argon smiled.

Part 4: The Scepter of Infinite Power.

The battle for Azonia was over.

The goblin army had won the fight and Azonia was free of human, skeleton and mummy.

Just as Argon had dreamed.

As the goblin general stood above the stone gate to the Chamber of Secrets, he rubbed his tiny hands together.

“This is going to be great,” he said as Slorg and Slum removed the heavy stone gate and opened the chamber.

As the remaining goblins, ogres and trolls looked on, Argon lit a torch and headed into the depths of the Chamber of Secrets.

Inside the chamber, it reeked of death and it took all of his strength not to vomit. Argon made his way through the dark with the torch in front of him and he passed the tombs of legends. He searched for the tomb of the last sorcerer, for inside that coffin would lay the scepter.

At the far end of the decayed chamber, was door that lead into a crypt. The goblin made his way inside and found the coffin.

With all his strength, he pushed the stone lid from the coffin and illuminated it with his torch.

The legend was fact, for there was Scepter of Infinite Power, in all its glory. The scepter was encrusted with shimmering Poisonstone and was breathtaking.

Argon reached into the coffin and put his hand around the powerful scepter. It was cold and dusty. He removed it from the crypt.

The goblin took his prize and left the chamber. After exiting the crypts, the entrance to the chamber collapsed into itself and disappeared from existence. It was as if it had never existed at all.

“Neat trick,” said the goblin general.

He held the scepter above his head and his army bowed down before him.

Argon went down on one knee and raised the Scepter of Infinite Power into the air.

He closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted to do with the scepter. He thought long and hard, this was the moment he had been waiting for, that he had fought for.

When he opened his eyes, the scepter was gone.

He had wished it out of existence.

Without humans, skeletons and mummy’s, warlocks, sorcerers and demons, the goblin’s had their land back. Their enemies had been banished to the underworld with the Doomlord, forever. The land that had been stolen from them eons ago was theirs once again.

Azonia was theirs.

And now it was time for Argon to bed a goblin princess, or two, he had earned it.