Greg Stafford
“Where are the brave ones among us?” he asked. “Who is more like me than like him?” and he pointed at that moment to Senthar, the favorite son of Yelm who was much beloved because he was kind, handsome and gentle. Jagkregriand pointed to a door, behind which was a great roaring and howling, and every so often something heavy crashed against it so that it groaned on its hinges. “Who is brave enough to go through that door? Whoever does will be the champions of this realm, and rule after our good dead father.”
No one moved. After no one moved, Jagkregriand, the powerful god who wrestled with the sky bull for exercise, went to the door and opened it, then went inside. A great scream ripped the court, so frightful that half of the goddesses all fled in terror from it. Then a welling of divine ichor ran from under the door, and the other half of the goddesses fled.
“Who is brave enough?” echoed his voice in the hall.
The next was a son of Jagkregriand, Karmathos, who regularly devoured living serpents and crocodiles while they were still alive. He went in, and the same occurred: a terrible scream, and a wave of ichor washed from under it. At that, the gods who were servants all fled.
“One of us is destined to be brave and successful,” said Urvairinus, the Great Archer, and he went through the door. Again, a howl of terror and more ichor. At that, the gods who were lovers all fled.
“If we are to live as cowards, I would rather go and die there,” said Vesed, the Hurler of Stones. Another scream, more ichor. At that, the gods who were field workers all fled.
“I am no less than my cousins,” said Verlodril, the spear man. He too disappeared behind the door. At that, the gods who were weak all fled.
And so it went, with five more gods: Bakan, the Master of the Club; Damatlodril, the Pillager; Ordmat, the Plunderer; Serenevaya, the Frightener; and Stalathos, the Spear Thrower. When the tenth howl sounded, the last of the gods fled in terror, leaving the palace empty.
Behind the door Jagkregriand welcomed his fellows. “You are my warriors,” he said, “You are my champions. We rule the palace now. We will make this a kingdom of War and we will avenge ourselves for the death of our father, the Emperor.”
For indeed, it had all been a ruse to test them (for those weakling gods had to resort to a ruse to find the brave among them), and to find the best among them who would follow Jagkregriand. They went to the armory then, and got armor and weapons, and mounted upon their war beasts and set off to destroy Orlanth and his clan.
They came upon our house with crashing and howling, gnashing their teeth and frothing at the mouth like rabid dogs. But Orlanth was prepared, and with his Four Winds he stopped their charge, and then from the flanks the Thunder Brothers fell upon the foes and cut them and chopped them, stuck them with spears and crushed them with thunderstones. They ran away, howling this time with pain and fear, and so the first victory was ours, there at the Battle of Dull Fire. We won that fight, and the others that followed.
Jagkregriand was not one to surrender or give up. He got allies, he enslaved armies, he commanded his vassals to assist him and they drove across the lands of the world destroying and killing. In a short time the whole world was embroiled, and that was the start of the Gods War. That is why we have war today, and why the northerners hate us and attack us time and time again. That is why they make new magic to scare our women, to take our beasts and enslave our children. That is why we fight, resist, drive them back. That is why our king, Orlanth, is a warrior and that is why we, Orlanthi all, train for war. That is why, always, the shock and horror of killing and being killed is celebrated.