The Tale of Grunk Blackclaw – a Champion’s Story

“Why me? Why me? Why me?” gasped Grunk while charging down another similar-looking corridor. His scrawny green arms pumped furiously in a desperate attempt to escape the dwarven warriors he was convinced he had heard marching his way while setting the latest round of explosive traps.

Rounding a corner, he saw an open door and dived through it before slamming it behind him. He leaned against the wood, panting rapidly and considered for a moment where it had all started going wrong for him.

Well, for starters some of the blame had to be attributed to the clan’s leader, Gristle. She was the one that had led them all into the Gobs-forsaken halls of the beardies. More moons than Grunk could count, the clan had been driven from their cavern by a group of rival goblins with weird pale skin. Gristle had ordered Grunk and her followers to fight back but they were outnumbered. While the bodies were piling up on the floor of the cavern, Grunk noticed Gristle and her closest biggits legging it out a hidden tunnel. Not fancying his chances with the rival goblins, Grunk and a few others took their chances with Gristle.

After following the tunnel for what seemed like a full night, Grunk emerged blinking into harsh sunlight with snow-capped mountains all around him.

“Blow up the tunnel, snoz-brain,” spat Gristle when she spotted Grunk.

Grunk stopped and listened for a moment. He could hear others running up the tunnel. Not caring if they were fellow members of his clan or the weird, pale goblins, he reached into his mawbeast-skin satchel and produced the biggest banger he could before lighting it and chucking it into the cave. After a few moments there was an almighty boom, followed by high-pitched screams and then the low rumble of the cave collapsing.

“Hated that cavern anyway,” whined Gristle. “Let’s get a new one.”

The remaining goblins roamed the mountainous landscape for several moons. Occasionally they would find a cave, only to be chased away by an angry bear or pack of wolves. Eventually they came to one entrance with strange runes carved into the back wall, which the goblins had decided to inspect.

“Don’t touch!” screeched Gristle. But it was too late.

“I can press this one,” said one of Gristle’s more gormless biggits as he pushed a rune into the wall.

It was followed by the sound of grinding gears and suddenly the entire back wall flipped round, along with the goblins. Once they stopped moving, Grunk was horrified to see they were inside a sloping hallway with glittering gems lighting the way further into the tunnel.

“It’s a beardy mine,” whispered Gristle. “Get us out!”

For several panicked moments, the goblins scrabbled at the wall to find a switch that would return them to the cave. Once hopelessness set in, Gristle ordered them down the hallway - with her leading safely from the rear, of course.

Grunk constantly kept listening for the sound of approaching dwarfs but the mine was eerily quiet. The only sound was the goblins’ feet as they edged further and further down. Eventually the tunnel spilled them into a grand hall and Grunk was surprised to see the bodies of dwarfs and bloody weapons strewn across the ground. He gave the one closest to him a cautious kick but it remained deathly still.

Upon closer inspection he noticed subtle differences between the dwarfs. Some had thick, elaborately woven beards and golden armour, while others were more simply dressed and armed with hammers and picks. All were dead, however, and the stench of decay lingered in the hall.

“Grub’s up!” shouted Gristle and bit off the nose of the nearest corpse.

After their initial discovery, the clan spent more time exploring the mine and found scenes of a vicious battle everywhere they looked. But what excited Grunk the most was a room stacked high with the black powder dwarfs used for their explosives. Although Grunk had always had a passion for things that went bang - even devising his own concoction from the explosive mushrooms found deep underground - he had never had access to this much ammunition. The Gobs had smiled upon him.

And so it had remained for many moons. Grunk busied himself experimenting with different and increasingly large explosives, which had led to only three complete tunnel collapses and a clawful of deaths. Then one night a small regiment of dwarfs had returned wearing armour with runes that matched those carved in the hall. Gristle’s goblins - thanks in part to Grunk’s booby traps - had managed to drive them off but more returned. Then more and now Grunk was hiding from a fresh batch stomping down the halls.

“BOOM!”

Another of Grunk’s traps went off. He waited for a moment before opening the door and peering down the corridor. His eyes grew wide at what he saw. Among the charred bodies of dwarfs, he spotted one of the large, metal machines the dwarfs used as walking armour was lying motionless on the ground.

He approached cautiously before noticing an injured dwarf struggling to free himself from the mechanical armour. Grunk leapt on the dwarf ’s chest and leaned in close.

“Mine now,” he snickered and slit the dwarf ’s throat.

Written by Rob Burman

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