The pages of his book felt cold in Vok's hands, depite the waves of heat blasting out of the molten lava surrounding his little island. His eyes burned and stung from the poisonous gasses rising up all around him, but he managed to squint into the distance.
In the heat-shimmering distance, he could see the tale of a ghaash-serpent slipping beneath the surface of the magma. Vok shuddered; the realm of the Wargod was about as unlike the old pigpen in the fort as possible. He remembered back . . .
. . .
Vok cowered in front of the form of Shakh Buurz, who towered over him with an evil grin.
"ME GRUKS LAT BIN HABBIN' PROBLIMS WID LAT'S LEGGIES," the Wargod chuckled.
"Nub Shakh Buurz . . . gahh . . . me means yub Shakh Buurz," Vok stammered.
"LAT LETTIN' LAT'S LEGGIES GET IN DA WEY OB DUIN' ME WURK ON DA UZG?" the Wargod snarled.
Vok gulped. He was trapped -- the Wargod spoke the truth.
"DERE EEZY WEY TU FIX DIS," the Wargod said as he effortlessly lifted the krippled mojokii's body into the air. Holding him upside down, the Wargod ripped both of Vok's legs off of his body and flung them into the distance.
Vok writhed on the ground before the Wargod. Out of the corner of his vision, he could see the Wargod's wolves growling and snapping at each other over his legs. Vok felt violently ill, then faded into unconsciousness.
When he awoke, Vok found himself on a little obsidian island in the middle of a sea of molten rock. He looked down and, to his great suprise, saw that his legs had been reattached to his body. They were certainly worse for the experience -- the wolves had taken great chunks of flesh from his legs, which had been sewn on at slightly the wrong angles -- but nonetheless, Vok rejoiced.
Vok heard the booming growl of the Wargod's voice through the aching of his head. "ME GIVIN' LAT ASH SEKUND CHANCE, VOK. LAT'S BODIE IB BROKE'D AGH LAT TUUPID, BUT ME NUB DUN WID LAT YET."
Vok coughed and looked out into the endless molten sludge. "LAT LIIK DIS UZG? DIS SPESHUL PLACE FER MOJOKIIS DAT GIT TUU DISTRAKTED -- DERE NUBTIN' TU DISTRAKT LAT HEER!" As the Wargod's cackling faded, Vok looked around. Noticing an obsidian throne on this small island, he limped over and sat. Rummaging through his pack, he pulled out his book, scattered his sacred stones, and began to read.
. . .
Drifting out of his memory, Vok took a deep breath. The superheated air of this place burned the his lungs, but Vok smiled grimly. Soon, he knew, the Wargod would allow him to return to the uzg. Vok couldn't wait.