Tamwell Narrowly Escapes his Encounter with Grum Flameblade (unofficial Splinterlands lore)

Tamwell had narrowly escaped the destruction. His classmates and teachers were dead or dying, his school utterly destroyed. He had slipped out at the last moment. The Chaos Legion had attacked unexpectedly, raining fire, death and destruction, razing the town in a matter of minutes. Luckily, Tamwell's school was close to the edge of town. His only chance was to reach the river and follow its path into the forest. He staggered the short distance to the edge of town, in utter disbelief at the destruction and carnage all around him. Ashes were falling all around. A piece of burning lumber fell from the building he was passing and struck him on the shoulder. He grunted with pain and tried to ignore the intense dull ache in his shoulder. Soon he reached the river and followed it into the forest. He paused and turned back for a moment. The whole town was in flames, the air filled with screams and cries of despair. He thought of his family and friends. There would be time for grieving later. Right now, he had to focus on survival.

There was thick vegetation close by the river, leaving just enough room to walk. After about 15 minutes he emerged into a clearing and froze. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Propped against a tree in the middle of the clearing sat Grum Flameblade. Grum Flameblade! The most formidable Orc warrior in the kingdom. Since he had turned sides and joined the Chaos Legion the mention of his name struck fear in the heart of every man, woman and child. Grum's eyes were closed. He was snoring heavily. There was no turning back. Tamwell had to keep moving further up river. His only chance was to sneak past the Orc and hope he didn't wake up. He crept slowly past, and some way up river he thought he was safe. Then disaster struck. A twig snapped loudly under his foot. The Orc snorted, wrenched his eyes open and sniffed the air. He yawned, then turned his head and glared at Tamwell. He licked his lips. Normally, such a puny opponent would be beneath his dignity. However, he was in just the mood for a nice mid-morning snack. He slowly lumbered to his feet, shaking the sleep out of his limbs.

Tamwell was frozen to the spot in abject terror. He knew his only chance was to run as fast as possible. Speed was his only advantage: Grum was notoriously slow. But his legs just would not obey. Grum was now on his feet, lumbering towards him. Tamwell had given up all hope when a figure suddenly emerged from the river beside him. It was a beautiful woman, with pointed ears, wavy blue-black hair and silky-smooth blue-green skin. She spoke quickly: "You must go, now, quickly. A mile up river is a log cabin. My friend the Goblin Psychic lives there. He will heal your shoulder and take care of you until we can get you away to safety." "B..but, he will kill you..." stammered Tamwell. "Don't worry, I'm too fast for him. But I can't hold him off for long. Go!" Tamwell muttered his thanks and turned and ran as fast as he could along the river. He heard Grum bellow in rage as the River Nymph's magic bolts stung into his thick, green scaly skin, over and over again.

After what seemed an eternity, Tamwell emerged into another clearing. In the centre was a log cabin. The Goblin Psychic chose to live in solitude in the forest, where he could practice and develop his psychic abilities without distraction. Just now he was trying to make music on a lute, using only the power of his mind. He could produce individual tones, but he couldn't shape them into a melody yet. He sensed a presence outside. There was no sense of threat or danger. He opened the door and saw Tamwell standing there, nursing his throbbing shoulder. "Well, well, well, what have we here? You'd better come inside, young man, and we'll fix that shoulder of yours and get you something to eat..."