Microsoft Zone Archive/Asheron's Lore/The Lugians
Original Link (now dead) - http://zone.com/asheronscall/ASHElugians.asp
Lugians
Arm, Heart, and Mind
by Allan Maki
I scaled the sheer surface with wary feet, ever mindful of the consequences of a misstep. Below me the Linvak valley seemed a distant memory hidden inside a tunnel dream. I had paid well for the location of the portal to this fortress and would not be held back by the freezing wind and driving snow that now bit at my cheeks and froze the tears at the corner of my eyes.
Before me a precipice rose at an impossible angle and the shifting of the ice thereon crackled louder than the wind as it ripped along the mountain face. Daunted but not beaten, I made my way further south to an area more hospitable to a traveler.
As I descended the mountain I was careful to remain upwind of the Ursuin prowling the tundra in search of tasty adventurers. Ahead, Mattekars and the Lugian Raiders of which I had been warned barred passage to a small valley at the crux of the Linvak range.
I pulled my compass from within the folds of my Ursuin coat and knelt in the bone-chilling snow. Placing the compass on a small rise of hard-packed ice I pulled off one glove to free the crude map from within the folds of my pack. The air chewed at my fingers as if attempting to numb them from my hand.
Through the crystalline cloud of my breath I determined my location by compass needle. The entrance to the Lugian fortress lay just beyond the Raiders and Mattekars.
I stuffed the map haphazardly into my pack and as I pulled the glove back onto my trembling hand I patted my scabbard and slipped the peace knot off of the hilt. As warmth replaced cold I strapped on my shield and withdrew my sword.
Pulling in quick breaths and acclimating myself further to the icy air built up my courage as I ran toward the host of enemies before me.
The first step turned into a slide as my footing gave way and I tumbled down the slope into the valley. I felt my body thump against the immovable roots of what I thought to be a tree--so much for a surprise arrival.
The tree moved and instinct guided my shield arm to deflect the crushing blow of a Lugian mace. Rolling onto my haunches I could spy the swirling green portal that lay just beyond. I dove to my right to avoid the incoming slice of an axe twice my size. I knew the magic offered by my clothing would do little against the heads of these weapons. Chorizite had been forged into them, negating the protections of the School of the Heart.
Resolving that this was a fight I could not win, I escaped into the portal and what lay beyond. As the effects of traveling through portal space dissipated and my body shed the translucent form of the bubbling material thereof, I took a survey of the room. It was a hall large enough to house many Lugians with a single passage leading to the unknown, and somewhere beyond this room a battle raged.
I could hear the great battle cries of Lugians defending the portal to Linvak Tukal the fortress I sought so that I might speak with their leader. I rushed along the passage toward the sound of battle and joined the side of the Lugians who did not bear Chorizite armaments.
As I joined their ranks one smiled down at me as he deflected a thundering blow from an attacker.
"An Isparian, here? Are you feeble of mind, or simply not fond of life?" It spoke our trade language, and though its words were insulting I could sense that it was using sarcasm, an interesting find. I was sure it was the first of many.
"I have come to speak to the Lord of your people and to learn from you." My sword caught the sinew of a Raider's leg before me, and it toppled. "I have been told that our thoughts of you and your people have been misguided."
As the last of the raiding party was dispersed he knelt to look me in the eye. His eyes were guarded, portraying a brutal honesty that could not be masked. This was a warrior of a proud people. His grey-blue skin was thick and scarred by the experience of countless battles. As he spoke I felt the air that came from his mouth and marveled that it was not laden with the stench of rotting meat, as was the breath of so many of the enemies that we faced on Dereth.
"You come to aid us? While so many of your people slaughter us in halls that we occupy throughout this world?" he asked.
"I come to learn. I am Antius, a scholar from Cragstone, in the north of Osteth," I replied.
"A scholar that wields a sword with much skill." He paused. "I am Grevik Mar. I am responsible for holding this final hall before the entrance to Linvak Tukal, our proud city."
Others of his kind began to filter into the hall, sending me inquisitive looks. As if sensing my discomfort he spoke again. "Come. I will show you to the city and arrange for you to meet Lord Kresovus."
I followed him across a hall strewn with bodies and coated in a viscous fluid the color of a ripened plum. I could only gather the fluid was the lifeblood of his brethren.
He walked through a portal, bidding me to follow him. Again the disorienting process of travel through portal space took hold.
As I exited I was stunned at the size and scope of the city that lay before me. Spires stretched into the sky so far that the tops were lost in the clouds. Walls ringed the courtyard where I now stood, at least ten times the height of my guide. The stonework was flabbergasting. Polished granite reflected my image to perfection. A marvel of architectural genius and magnificent craftsmanship, this citadel stood resolute in a harsh clime and showed an intellect that until now I had not fathomed the Lugians possessed.
They walked to and fro, up ramps constructed of the same stone of the walls and spires. A smithy chimney constructed of obsidian poured smoke into the air high above. Within the smithy, powered by a bellows as large as farmer's cottage, stood a fire-kettle the size of an Aluvian shop and a smithing anvil as large as an Auroch. My eyes could not drink in enough of this awesome structure. I was stunned, and felt much like a mite must feel within a structure of the Empyrean. My mouth lay agape for a long moment before Grevik Mar spoke to break my bewilderment.
"This is Linvak Tukal, our home." He motioned to the courtyard. "My people, the Linvak Lugians, have lived here since we first arrived upon this world. We have been here for a many, many years, though we had been sheltered from discovery until this siege broke the spell of our greatest Magi.
"Come, I will lead you to the throne room of Lord Kresovus. Though he is mourning the loss of his father, he will be pleased to see that the emissaries we sent to you Isparians have been received."
I nodded. It was all I could muster as I followed my guide up the ramps and through the halls that rivaled the largest of our buildings. He navigated this place with ease. I knew I would be lost in this massive citadel. He stopped to allow me to rest and take in the single most beautiful occurrence I have seen since my time on Dereth: a sunset witnessed at the very level of the setting sun.
At last we came into a cathedral-sized room. Windows of stained glass filtered the dying light of day into the amphitheatre of Lord Kresovus. A raised dais bore a throne of stone on which a Lugian slightly larger than those of the Tiatus caste sat in grave contemplation. Grevik Mar cleared his throat.
The Lugian sat upon his throne as a Hoary Mattekar crawled from behind it. A low guttural noise gurgled in its throat as it moved to the Lugian's side, then nuzzled its head beneath the Lugian's hand. Lord Kresovus stroked the beast's head and I swallowed hard, thanking Asheron that I had left my robe, crafted from a Hoary's hide, in Cragstone.
"Lord Kresovus," spoke Grevik Mar, bowing his head and crossing his left arm over his chest to nearly touch the bulge of his shoulder.
"We have an emissary, come to us from the Isparians." Lord Kresovus' regal voice resonated across the hall.
"Yes, Lord." Grevik answered, his head remained bowed.
"You have done well, Grevik Mar. Pprepare for future arrivals." Grevik looked at me with his head still bowed and smiled again. He raised his head and lowered his arm meticulously, in the custom of his people. Turning on his heel he strode down the ramp.
Illuminated by two braziers on either side of his throne, the Lord of Linvak Tukal beckoned me to sit across from him on a large stone slab, a bench perhaps for the Lugians.
"Please, sit." As I approached, the Hoary growled louder. Which was met with a surprisingly gentle shush from Lord Kresovus. "Forgive him, he is the last of his kind. His brethren are not accustomed to diplomacy and lack the understanding to carry on civil discussions. He knows only that your people have hunted his ilk to the brink of extinction." A long paused ensued, then he said: "I am Lord Kresovus."
"Antius, Antius Blackmoor of Cragstone. I am a scholar amongst the Aluvian people, here to learn from you? and your people." I found my words carried well through the hall, even though my voice seemed so tiny within it. The Lugians had built this place to be an acoustic marvel as well as a visually stunning space.
"I welcome you, Antius Blackmoor, to Linvak Tukal." His face was harder to read than that of Grevik Mar. He appeared younger, yet more aged. "I am sorry that I may seem in ill temper. I still bear the wounds of loss.
"You come with questions, yes?" Kresovus shifted to regard me more fully.
"Indeed." I replied.
"I shall do my best to answer, Emissary Blackmoor."
I fought for words but was still stunned from my arrival to this place and at the acumen of the Lugian people. After a long moment I simply said, "How?"
"Like you, we came through the portals. They appeared on our world, and the first of our kind came through many years ago. We have lived in this, the first of our citadels, ever since.
"We are a people who would enjoy peace but our time here has been littered with betrayal and deception. The Gotrok, who siege us now, have been our primary enemy, aside from the cloaked ones and you Isparians.
"We have watched you for some time and come to realize that you are not evil beings, simply misguided. We are losing this war against the Gotrok and require assistance. We have turned to you. We shall not yield to the machinations of the cloaked ones who have ensorcelled our brethren and altered their minds so that they forsake their own. Nor shall we bend beneath the weight of the changing world. My people are much like you: proud, ambitious and honor-bound. We are warriors and wizards, as well as wordsmiths and crafters.
"For so long we have met your people at the ends of axes and weapons that we cannot expect that there will be peace between us. What we hope to forge is a relationship that will benefit us both.
"We live by a caste system, much like you, within your monarchies." Sensing that his next line of speech was to be of great importance I scrambled through my pack to grab my quill and parchment. He waited for me and then continued.
"Our commoners are Laigus, they comprise our miners and workers.
"Amploth are the artisans responsible for the walls around you and the craftsmanship of our armor, weapons, gems and other items of beauty.
"The Obeloth comprise our warriors, defenders and militia.
"The Lithos are the champions that have proven themselves capable of leading small forces. Grevik Mar is of this caste, but his efforts may soon raise him to the rank of Gigas.
"The Gigas are rulers, who watch over enclaves and other groups to see that the work is done and the people are protected.
"Extas, Tiatus, and others comprise the highest echelon of our people. They take command of our armies in time of war, rule over keeps and citadels, and handle the tasks of discipline and justice of the lower castes."
I watched as the Lord of Linvak Tukal rose to his full height. I was not afraid of this regal being, but rather at ease in his presence. He exuded a confident honor that I had found only in a handful of the nobility that was spread throughout the Aluvian holdings. He strode toward me and spoke in plain and honest words.
"We have too long remained insular within our citadel and have become weak because of our separation.
"Our brethren, the Gotrok, are in every way the same as we, save one.
"They have fallen to the commands of the cloaked ones, the Virindi that command the whims of magic with nary a thought of consequence or care. They mine the ore that negates magic for these cloaked beings and do their bidding with slavish precision.
"The Lugians of Linvak Tukal turn to the children of Ispar for assistance now. It is a time of change for our peoples and we must adapt or erode into nothingness, as the stone of this Citadel will one day.
"We fight against our brothers, the Gotrok, as do you.
"They are our enemy.
"They are your enemy.
"We pray for peace with your people, we hope to become your allies.
"We come to you as humble traders, skilled artisans, and mighty warriors.
"We welcome you within the halls of Linvak Tukal, and hope that you shall welcome our emissaries in the towns to which we have dispatched them."
The Lord of Linvak Tukal reached forth his mighty hand and placed it gently on my shoulder. I placed my quill in my book and closed its cover. I stood on the rock slab to stand before him. I bowed my head and replicated the salute that Grevik Mar gave to his leader.
"I will do what I can Lord Kresovus, I shall do what I can."
For further lore on the Lugian giants, be sure to consult April's A Brief History for Travelers.
Lugians, a race of massive gray giants, were among the first arrivals on Dereth. They are incredibly massive and strong --the average Lugian is eight feet tall and weighs half a ton. They live, for the most part, in the Linvak Mountains in the southernmost reaches of the island; rogues and scouts have been sighted in dungeons elsewhere on the island. They are determined, single-minded fighters, and their massive fists, and even more dangerous weapons, can crush a common human with a single blow.
Lugian society is clannish and structured, employing a rigid caste system and a strict code of honor to enforce order among their ranks. Ascending from one caste to the next is achieved through a bloody battle to the death. Lugians are severe isolationists: intruders in their steadings are slain swiftly and without mercy.
Dangerous to Deadly, depending on caste