The Creation Of A Dark Shaman

[Tom_Whiteman 949]

  Zogrocka walks across the heated desert. His mind wanders as he searches for water, his large flask of water gone dry. The Shaman takes a moment as he looks up into the sky, the sun feeling closer to him than it did in years. His skin is burnt from the pounding sun, blistered and irritated, his burns need to be soaked for a while. He feels his hot face, his vision blurry, illusions are seen about. The lone shaman simply continues walking, coming over a small dune, before him lies another dune, though there is a cave off to the side.

  The shaman enters the cave, it looks comfortable, it’ll last just for the night. He unclips his large scimitar from his belt as he places it down. He hears a loud laugh, then another. The laugh sounds familiar, that of an Orcish chuckle, but then again, it could be the laugh of another large creature. The shaman weary of his where abouts, and what may dwell deep within the cave… He takes precautions, picking up his scimitar as he unsheathes the large blade, along with the hilt are ancient carvings that of only a Shaman could identify.

  Zogrocka wanders deeper and deeper into the cave. He can feel water dripping on his shoulders and his forehead. He goes deeper and deeper, he cannot see no more, only feel the rigid rock of the cave. He sees a dim light, just around the corner. He backs against the wall, tightening his grip on the scimitar. He peeks around the corner, his eyes widen in shock. Orcs indeed. Zogrocka felt an awkward hunger, he backed the corner as he closed his eyes taking a deep breath. Up until this moment he realized the deep hunger he was in, the Orcs had water, though they just finished a feast. What food they had was gone.

  Zogrocka pondering for a few moments, his stomach rumbling quietly, his face covered with sweat. The hunger overtook him, he stood straight, taking his back off the wall as he held his scimitar close. Turning the corner, he met eye-to-eye with a cub. Zogrocka took a mighty roar before charging the lonesome father, his only current threat. He ducks slightly, shouldering the father’s, causing the Orc to fall face first into the stone. Zogrocka stood tall above the Orc, thrusting his sword into it’s spine and tearing the blade out of the wound.

  The mother and the three cubs, shocked at first back against the wall of the cave. Zogrocka turns before nearing the slim Orcish mother, he quickly slashes his sword at her, she stumbles back, before roaring at Zogrocka, protecting her cubs. Zogrocka doesn’t feel shocked, nor hesitated, he readies his sword again before hacking at the mother’s neck, blood spewing from her jugular. Zogrocka takes back his foot, kicking the mother’s body onto the cubs. The oldest cub, slides his mother’s body off him with a small struggle, yet Zogrocka awaits over him as he’s butchered by the Shaman. Zogrocka then begins stabbing through the Orcish mother, killing the cubs behind her, their squeals loud, echoing through the cave as Zogrocka continues the butcher.

 

  The Shaman sits against the cave wall, feasting on the father of the cubs, drinking water from his now full flask. He’s halfway done the arm before his jar of sand breaks. The sand falls to the ground, making its way to the open area, the sand then begins to form into a scorpion, facing towards Zogrocka.

  The scorpion’s voice booms, “What have you done?!” Echoes the Earth spirit, Saikoro.

 Zogrocka’s eyes look up to the spirit, a mouth full of Orc flesh swallowed, blood dripping from his chin “It is time I ate,” he says, taking another bite out of the Orc.

  “Eating another Orc?!” Shouts the spirit in question “Eating a brother, filth!”

  “There’s nothing else to eat!” Groans the shaman, looking up at the spirit with a spite of anger

 The spirit makes a clicking noise, angered at Zogrocka “You have been wandering away from your Orcish state, eating another Orc isn’t the will of Krug!” Yells the spirit.

  Zogrocka clenches his fist as he throws the arm at the spirit, missing his target “Leave then! Why not leave?!” Shouts the large Orc pounding his fist into the hard stone “I own you!” The sand before Zogrocka slowly loses shape, the sand falling into a pile, the spirit leaving Zogrocka’s presence.

 

  Zogrocka exits the cave angry, kicking sand up from the ground, roaring at it. He picks up fist-fulls of sand as the whips it around in anger. Spitting on it twice, before he falls back into it, taking a few sharp breaths.

  The Shaman whips out his satchel. Burrowing a thick stick in the ground. He pulls out a moldy cactus green substance, forming it onto the stick. He finally takes out a small tinder box of his invention. He removes the lid off of a small box with a flammable wax within, he begins to wax the cactus green down before a swift stroke of the flint and steel, creating a spark which ignites the green.

  The cactus green burns for a few seconds before a thick smoke emits from the moldy green. The Shaman takes a brief inhale of it before he gets a short dizzy feeling, he holds his head in the smoke for a bit more, his eyes crossing as he enters a very deep high.

  The shaman feels the sand, grasping it tight as he looks around, his vision becoming blurry and clouded. He looks back and forth before tilting his head to rest and shutting his eyes. He feels sand brush by his face. His eyes open slowly, his vision still blurry. He can make out a large figure, towering above him. “Who are you?” Asks the Shaman, looking up at the figure.

  The figure ignores the question “Why did you summon me?” Asks the figure in a raspy, high-pitched tone.

  Zogrocka rubs his eyes, grunting before he finally can make out the figure. A large tortoise stands over him, Zogrocka quirks a brow “Uhhh… I came for questions”

  The tortoise groans as its head slowly edges closer to Zogrocka “And the questions are?”

  “Uhm…” The Shaman mumbles for a long few seconds. He feels slightly angered that Saikoro left him, his first spirit he ever befriended left his presence. It was at this moment, Zogrocka felt he needed to fill Saikoro’s spot with another. Though the process was long, and the Shaman felt too over encumbered to spend time with another spirit. The shaman felt he needed his power now. Luckily the shaman had his wits about him, kind of. His cunning ideas weren’t as sharp, the high began to wear off slightly, though not enough to uncloud his vision. “Why did you come?” Asks the Shaman, his eyes twitching slightly.

  The tortoise was shocked slightly “I came from the spiritual plane, Orc,” it replies hastily, slightly confused.

  “And you are what of the spiritual plane?” Asks Zogrocka

  “I am an inhabit of the plane, a spirit,” says the tortoise.

  “An inhabit.. Yes… You have friends there?” Asks Zogrocka

  “Ahh.. Yes I do in fact, some friends,” says the tortoise.

  “Me too, in fact, I have some friends. What do they call you by?” Asks the shaman quickly.

  “They call me by Huttyn, what do the--” the tortoise stops, his name given up so easily… The sand falls, the spirit leaving Zogrocka. The Shaman chuckles, how easy it was to fool a spirit at first. His luck was kind to him to give another chance. But what the shaman did not know was that he just entered a dark path which Orcs don’t take to kindly.  

 

TL;DR

 

  Zogrocka murdered five Orcs due to temporary insanity because of dehydration and hunger. His Earth spirit then departed with him. He felt he needed his earth spirit with him, so he attempted to call to the spirit realm, though another earth spirit came. He felt the need to have a new one, though he felt it'd take too long. So he thought of an idea to trick the spirit into giving its name so he can forcefully use it when he needs it.

 

 

[Dmajikes 46]

(( So dark shaman time :D:D:D:D:D:D

[Raptorious 1899]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.