The Frozen Sands

[Shadeleaf 1022]

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9ZIXcEa3WE

 

 

 

 

      A council of three sat within the northern waste lands... atop the highest mountain and the coldest peak they joined in communication, silent as the wind-whisked snow that lay about them. Yet... as a whole, their minds were somewhere else. Far to the south; the thoughts of Shae’tan, Absolution, and Dumamis wandered with their objective was clear, and their methods calculated down to the last fall of a tallon... now, now was the time for execution...
 

---

 
      Within his abode, High Shaman Broxigar Kaxil sat stagnant, in perfect meditation and connection with the spirit world, yet... this day, something felt wrong with the waves of the underlying fabric of spirits. Those constantly near him in such a state seemed to wander, seemed... to falter, and fade away at questions that would normally be answered in but a heart-beat. His age worn eyes of 1000+ plus years lazed open, the pupils below greeting the sandy environment that he called home, a distinct chill rolling through the air.
      Few sluggish movements later, the Uruk was upon his feet, staff in hand and ready to face what ever might come his way... well almost anything. Exiting his home, Broxigar rounded the side, expecting to be greeted with perhaps a stray Scatternack, or a necromancer of sorts, yet what met his eyes... none would expect this far out.
      Three Harbingers stood Sentinel, armor bleached white with speckled patches of orange and yellow, staffs all readied and coursing with frost fire. Shae’tan strode forwards, boots digging into the sand below not unlike the snow of the north as it spoke “‘“Kaxil...”’” it began, form flickering with a wave of black mist. At this the Shaman already began to take an offensive, muscles beginning to bulge some with enhanced strength, and fire about his body generating in small specks. “‘“The Flame in the North has chosen you... be honored.”’” It swooned as those behind it fanned out to the sides... the battle had begun.
 

---

 
      Roaring in anger, the Shaman raised his fists to the air, bringing them down violently onto the ground as the very air afront of him rippled with unbridled power, sending the light suit of armor which encompassed Shae’tan flying backwards, skidding to a stop  with a debilitating screech. Stumbling back a step, Broxigar then turned its attention to Absolution, rushing towards himself with his staff leveled, bladed side protruding outwards. It was at this point... the harsh rattle of bones might also have been heard by the Shaman. Keened hearing helped distinguish the presence of three servants of the Drakaar, all shambling towards himself at a steady rate from behind.
      A moment of concentration later, Broxigar swiftly side stepped the incoming Harbinger, sending it straight into the oncoming servants, leveling both of its targets partially. Upon the same spring of momentum, the Uruk sprung into the air, enhanced muscles and swiftness aiding in the motion as it landed upon the back of Absolution, worn and calloused fingers gripping about the Harbinger’s helm as it flailed beneath. A roar of determination and a small prayer later, the Helm shattered beneath Broxigar’s hands, the resulting mist partially freezing them, while whisking off to the north; 1 down.
      Turning to its side, the Shaman thereafter faced Dumamis, now just recovering from the summons of a rift... it stood, ready to fight. Twirling his hand downwards and with sheer anger upon its face, embers began to condense within his palm, a right out flame generating within moments, Durnamis following suit with its own frost fire. The two advanced slowly towards one another, and when they met... it was near world bending.
      A hand and a tallon extended, the two stood, locked in what could be coined as a void-clash. From Durnamis’ side, a tainted frost fire stream, and from the other, a wave of spiritual energy of pure, unabridged flame. For no more than 10 seconds did the clash last, yet with equal power and determination, Broxigar was forced to call upon his final asset... the spirit of force. With the bolstered power, the Shaman effectively threw the Harbinger clear into the distance engulfed in flame, its robes becoming incinerated and freeing the dusky form within. Two down... yet something was wrong.
 

Silence.

 
      Head on a swivel, Broxigar scanned the area, finding only the shimmering sands, and nothing outstanding, except... nothing. “‘“Pretty isn’t it?”’” A disembodied voice seemed to emanate from all about the Uruk, eyes flicking from side to side as he kept his composure. “‘“Its such a shame it had to end this way too.”’” it called, seeming to come from behind and afront all at once.
      “Wub latz wunt!” the Shaman called to the sky, constantly on guard now as the discourse continued, the Uruk slowly backpedaling to his home, “‘“ Me? Oh... I want nothing... yet for you to be just a tad more observant of your surroundings. That’ll come in handy very soon it will."’” It called cheerfully, and just so soon as the Shaman’s gaze locked upon his house... it vanished. A growl rumbled in the Shaman’s throat... the beginning of one at least.
 

---

 
      Shae’tan stood stable in the sands, clocked by its beloved illusion as the Uruk walked backwards towards it, lured by its voices and the illusion it produced with little effort. As the Uruk came to a stop in realization, it froze seeing its goal having evaporated from sight, replaced instead with the ever consuming sands. With a mental sigh, Shae’tan looked to its gauntlet, working the talons precisely to form something akin to a drill head, raising and holding the point stable towards the Uruk’s chest as it backed up even further.
      “‘“Uruk!”’” A gruff voice called from Shae’tan, the Shaman’s head swiveling quickly to face it, and for a moment... its helm held the Shaman’s gaze with absolute dominance, a final show of superiority before flesh was rent, and blood flew.
 

---

*plock*

 

      The partially living Shaman’s body fell upon the pointed ice before the monolithic dragon head head in the north, Shae’tan taking a kneel besides it as it spoke, short and simple. “‘“Master... what you wish, has been granted”’”. From above the unmistakable roar of laughter, that only a Drakaar could produce came, and there after the flames...
 

---

 
      Proverbial eyes opening to a room afront of it, what had once been Broxigar  acclimated to the new light, the new life without eyes and... new motives. “Setherien welcomes you...” the now 12 at once muttered, the being standing silent for a moment, before in a slight, shrieking voice, it returned “‘“Xort... It shall be, Xort...”’”.
 

 
Tl;Dr/Ooc

      Hello everyone! And please welcome our newest Harbinger to the Black Scourge, Goldrim. I’m sure most of you have heard of him, and if not, I’ll assure you he's relatively chill and will be furthering the plotline (and fun for yall in particular) very efficiently. Along with this, two other changes have been made to Harbinger ranks, Kahzo and Kala being added to replace Jistuma and Sparehoecakes. Now with that? Happy rping everyone! Praise Setherian!!!!

[Goldrim 1422]

( Bravo, very well done. )

 

Xort now plots in the north with his fellow Harbingers, his former curse of bloodlust has been vanquished, but a new one has arisen, the urge to wreak havoc in the name of Setherien.

[hjgklmn0ajuvxc 688]

melunz chews a biscuit "need a new high shaman, this time not kaxil pls"

[Heero 4092]

Harbinger Dumamis drifts alongside Xort. Menacingly.

[Nug 2011]

Nug wonders why so many Harbingers are needed.

[Slic3man 484]

    Gravelord Vinzakra looks to his fellow kin, sharpening a blackened blade as they prepare to continue their hunting of the mass produced soldiers of the North. Mounting a blotted horse, he'd begin to move through out Anthos; sure to find one of the many aberrations.