Bab 33: Grok'Thar

The cold, damp air of the cave clung to Volk's skin like a second layer.

The walls of the cave were rough and jagged, as if they had been carved out by some ancient force of nature.

Sharp, angular rocks jutted out from the walls at odd angles, and the floor was uneven, strewn with loose stones that crunched underfoot.

The ceiling was high, disappearing into shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own. Here and there, thin stalactites hung from the ceiling like the fangs of some great beast, dripping water into small pools that had formed on the cave floor.

The sound of the water dripping echoed through the cave, creating a haunting rhythm that seemed to pulse in time with Volk's heartbeat.

As Volk made his way deeper into the cave, he kept his senses alert.

The darkness pressed in around him, but his eyes had begun to adjust, allowing him to make out the faint outlines of the cave's interior.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—something ancient and musty, like the smell of old bones.

Every now and then, he could hear a distant rumble, as if the cave itself was alive, shifting and groaning in its sleep.

Suddenly, Volk heard a soft rustling sound from up ahead. His muscles tensed, and he raised his club, ready to strike. But before he could make a move, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows—a young orc he recognized from earlier, the one he had helped during the battle with the hazardous boars.

The orc's face lit up with recognition as he saw Volk.

"Volk!" the orc exclaimed, his voice echoing through the cave. "It's you! I wasn't sure if I'd run into you again in this place."

Volk lowered his club, relief flooding through him. "It's good to see a friendly face," he said, offering a nod of greeting. "I didn't expect to find anyone so soon."

The orc approached Volk, his posture respectful. "I am Grok'Thar, Bone Cleaner of the Dreadmaw Clan. And the one I serve is Thrash'Kull, our clan's great warrior." Grok'Thar paused, then added with a hint of gratitude, "I wanted to thank you, Volk. If you hadn't helped me earlier, I might not be standing here right now."

Volk shrugged, trying to downplay his role. "You would've done the same for me, I'm sure. We're all in this together. By the way, your name sounds like Grak'thor."

Grok'Thar smiled, a rare expression of warmth from an orc, and nodded. "Yeah, my name is after him, he saved my mother… But still, I owe you. Perhaps we can stick together in this place. It's safer that way."

Volk considered the offer for a moment, then nodded. "Agreed. This place is dangerous enough without being alone."

As they began to walk together, their footsteps echoing softly in the cave, Grok'Thar glanced around, his eyes scanning the dark corners warily. "We were the last to enter the catacombs," he said, his voice hushed. "Most of the other clans were already inside before us. That's why it's been so quiet."

Volk looked at Grok'Thar, curious. "How many clans are there? I've only ever really known our Dreadmaw Clan."

Grok'Thar's brow furrowed in thought. "There are eight clans in total. Let's see… there's the Bloodfang Clan, fierce and proud. Their warriors are known for their brutality in battle. Then there's the Ironhide Clan—they're tougher than stone, and their skin is as hard as iron, making them almost impossible to wound."

Volk nodded, listening intently as Grok'Thar continued.

"Next is the Thunderstrike Clan, known for their speed and agility. They move like lightning on the battlefield, striking fast and hard. The Stonefist Clan is another—massive brutes who can crush bones with a single blow. Their strength is unmatched, but they're not the quickest."

Grok'Thar hesitated for a moment before going on. "The Shadowclaw Clan… They're the ones you never see coming. They move in the shadows, silent and deadly. They're the most feared assassins among the clans. Then there's the Fireblood Clan, known for their fiery temper and their affinity with flame magic. They're dangerous, especially in close quarters."

He paused again, thinking. "Finally, there's the Frostbite Clan, cold and calculating. Their warriors are like ice—calm, unyielding, and merciless. And of course, our own Dreadmaw Clan, the hunters. We're known for our resilience and our ability to track and survive in the harshest conditions."

Volk absorbed the information, his mind racing as he imagined the other clans and their warriors. "Do you know how many of them are here in this catacomb?" he asked, a note of concern in his voice.

Grok'Thar shook his head. "I'm not sure. We were the last to enter, so there could be any number of them already inside. But it's best to assume that we're not alone."

As they continued to walk, a sudden movement in the shadows caught Volk's eye. He tensed, ready for a fight, but before he could react, the creature darted away, disappearing into the darkness.

Grok'Thar frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What was that?" he asked, glancing at Volk.

Volk lowered his club, equally puzzled. "I'm not sure… It looked like some kind of creature, but it didn't attack. It just ran."

Grok'Thar's eyes widened as a thought struck him. "Wait… could it be because of the hazardous magic particles in your body?" He looked at Volk with a mix of realization and surprise. "Creatures that are more hazardous or weaker than you might be instinctively avoiding you, sensing the power within you."

Volk blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "Oh?" he murmured, more to himself than to Grok'Thar.

Grok'Thar nodded, his voice thoughtful. "It makes sense. If these creatures are sensitive to hazardous magic particles, they might see you as a threat. That could work in our favor, Volk. We don't necessarily need to kill these monsters—they're not worth the effort. Their cores aren't fully formed, so they can't be turned into crystals yet. What we're really after are the magic crystals that have grown over time from the remains of dead monsters. Those are what we need."

Volk considered Grok'Thar's words, his mind racing. If these creatures were avoiding him because of the hazardous magic particles, then they could potentially navigate the catacombs without having to fight every monster they encountered. It was a strange thought, but one that could prove to be a valuable advantage.

As they moved deeper into the cave, they encountered several more creatures—small, shadowy figures that skittered away as soon as they sensed Volk's presence. Each time, Grok'Thar would glance at Volk with a knowing look, his earlier theory seemingly confirmed.

"See?" Grok'Thar whispered after the third encounter. "They're avoiding you. We might just have an easier time in here than the others."

Volk didn't respond immediately, his thoughts focused on the strange sensation that was slowly building within him. It was like a tug, a subtle pull from deep within the cave, drawing him in a specific direction. He couldn't explain it, but the feeling was growing stronger with each step they took.

Suddenly, Volk stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on a tunnel branching off to the right. Grok'Thar noticed and turned to him, his expression curious. "What is it?"

Volk frowned, trying to put the sensation into words. "I… I feel something. A strong hunch, like I'm being pulled towards that tunnel."

Grok'Thar raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the tunnel Volk was indicating. "A hunch? Could it be something to do with the hazardous magic particles? Maybe there's something down there that's connected to it."

Volk nodded, still feeling the strange pull. "I don't know, but I think we should check it out. Whatever it is, it feels… important."

Grok'Thar considered for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Alright, Volk. Lead the way. If you're being drawn to something, it might be worth investigating."

With Grok'Thar following closely behind, Volk cautiously entered the tunnel.

The air grew colder as they ventured further in, the walls narrowing around them.

The tugging sensation in Volk's chest grew stronger, more insistent, guiding him deeper into the darkness. He didn't know what awaited them, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to uncover something significant—something that could change everything.