Ixli; A Glimpse Into The Future

[Tom_Whiteman 949]

 

Zogrocka scours the Orcish desert. It has been a few months since his unofficial exile from the Uzgs. The dark shaman now living a solemn traveller’s life, not much to do than hunt and gather water for himself. He begins to talk to himself, his eyes aching for a warm, relaxed sleep, his tongue quivering for some social conflict. The dark shaman is reminded of the time he first took this dark path, convinced it’ll lead him down a simpler path, with a simple life style, though he was wrong. He collapses, his eyes shutting as his tired body flops against the scorching sand.

He is awoken by a cold shiver. He looks up, large bags under his corrupted eyes. The sand is now cold, the sky black and almost as blank as the void, not counting the stars and moon. He slowly rises, his mouth dry, throat sore and clawing for a droplet of water. Zogrocka groans as he looks into the everlasting dunes of the desert, he doesn’t expect civilization, or any conflict from the spirits out here. The spirits have quit communicating with the shaman, he feels, hears, or sees nothing… He begins walking, almost limping towards the next dune. The dark shaman looks around, he’ll find no predators out here, he’s sure of it, yet he aches to fight one.

He goes a few more hours, his legs cannot hold him anymore. Weakness overtakes the large Orc as he falls to his knees. His eyes dry, his lips cracked, skin dry and scorched. He feels clumsy, he’d take anything right now to survive. He sees a ripple of air before him, the desert sand slowly swirling around him, winds picking up speed. Grains of sand begin to hover around the dark shaman before suddenly dropping to the ground. Zogrocka begins brushing the sand as he slowly digs a small hole, staring deeply into it. He rubs his black eyes, the small hole filling with a dark elixir. The dark shaman sticks his finger in it, he does not feel any form of liquid, no feeling of the substance whatsoever.

Zogrocka shuffles back, the elixir slowly evaporating as it makes a large cloud of dark mist, the mist slowly moving around, looking as if it’s beginning to shape into something. It shapes into the form of a humanoid, the head rounding off. The moon seems to shine brighter as it highlights the black humanoid. The purple Orc nealt before the humanoid slowly ducks his head as he watches it with still eyes.

The humanoid opens its mouth, speaking in the old tongue, something Zogrocka hasn’t heard ever since he commuted with his last spirit, “Hello, Zogrocka.”

The dark shaman quirks his brow, he most definitely was sure most spirits feared to approach him. Though he never heard of a spirit who commuted with exiled Orcs “Hello, spirit,” he replies in a shaky, yet awkward tone.

“I have been watching you closely, Zogrocka, last remnant of Dark Shamans, it is pleasurable to finally meet you,” says the spirit, speaking smoothly, unfazed by Zogrocka’s appearance.

Zogrocka remains still, still like the rock below him. He opens his mouth for a second, his beady eyes shivering as they watch the spirit “Who-- who are you?”

“I am your creator,” says the spirit freely, holding no secrets back from the purple orc before him

“Krug?” Asks the dark shaman

“No, I have not created Orcs as Krug did. I have created something he despises. You and I both know what that is.”

Zogrocka gives a low nod “Yes.”

“I have come to my child in his time of need,” says the spirit as it slowly floats backwards “And my child will be guided.” The spirit glides slowly, turning from Zogrocka. The purple Orc follows weakly behind him, though keeping a cautious distance.

 

 

The spirit leads the dark shaman to a small oasis after a small time of walking. He gestures smoothly to the water “Drink, please,” he says as he backs away, walking to a nearby palm tree. Zogrocka watches as the spirit walks away, turning to the water after a few moments as he rushes towards the edge of it, taking long gulps of water, dunking his head fully in the water almost. After a while, the dark shaman takes a small, silent burp as he lays back against the sand. He looks to his right, forgetting the spirit was there. Though he sees nothing…

Zogrocka gets up, looking at the sunrise, happy he survived the small journey, and has found the oasis. Though he wonders about who the spirit was, interested, he fills up his small water holder, setting out into the desert again. He wanders around a few dunes, searching the flatlands for a cactus. Alas, after an hour or more he finds a cactus. He takes his large scimitar, hacking at its trunk, close to its base. He ties some rope to the cactus, slowly dragging it back across the desert and back to his oasis.

The dark shaman slowly cuts the cactus into thin slices, placing it against the bark of a leaning tree, the wet slices sizzling in the heat, minutes later drying. The Orc places the dried cacti down. He turns his attention to the tree, he goes to it, snapping a firm branch off as he goes back to the cacti. He sticks the branch through the dried cacti, dipping his hand in the water as he carefully molds the cacti into a ball. The dark shaman wonders if the spirit will appear to him once again, though inside he is sure, no other spirits want to approach him, except this one.

Zogrocka gives off a huff as he pulls a small tinder box out of a pouch to his left. He strikes the steel and flint a few times, his brows furrowed, giving a hard strike as many sparks ignite, latching onto the dry cacti and setting it into flames for a moment, before the die down, the cactus green now emitting a thick smog which Zogrocka inhales.

 

 

After moments of inhaling the smoke, Zogrocka begins to seep into a deep high. He lazily looks around the oasis, the sky turning black quickly. His expressions seem to be unfazed. Blackness closes around the dark shaman as the water before him turns into the similar elixir he witnessed before in the desert. A black smog emits from the water as it forms into the similar humanoid.

“You have summoned me, I see,” says the humanoid, his gaze locking onto Zogrocka.

The dark shaman stares at the spirit for a second, blinking calmly as he slowly rolls his head “Yes, I have,” he says in reply

“Why so?” Asks the spirit in interest as he hovers back to the palm tree

“How are you my creator?” Asks Zogrocka, clearly ignoring the spirit’s question.

The spirit gives off a chuckle as he shakes his head, gliding up the tree trunk as he takes a reclined seat “I will tell you if we make a trade,” it says, leaning closer towards Zogrocka.

The dark shaman shrugs “What sort of trade?”

“You give me a piece of your… Sanity and I will give you the information you ask for.”

Zogrocka nods as he slowly stands, looking up at the spirit with his rested eyes. The spirit slowly jumps off the tree, slowly hovering before the Orc, at a very similar height to him. The spirit takes his hand as he carefully places it onto the forehead of the Orc, then soon after, removing it. The dark shaman feels no different, he gives off a blnk, his attention turning back to the spirit.

“It starts off as a long story,” says the spirit as he looks to Zogrocka, reading his blank expression. He continues, “Years ago back in the lands of Aegis, me and three brothers communicated. One of these brothers I taught my… Experiment to…” Zogrocka gives a slow nod to the spirit, his expressions almost searching for an explanation. The spirit sighs as it continues further “The brother figured out how to trick spirits unto his will, and he taught it throughout his clan, the Doms. He came back to me with more Orcs, eager to learn more. So I taught them more, at the same cost you just payed me. Soon after the Orcs referred to them as Dark Shamans, where they were hunted down and slaughtered for what I made of them.”

Zogrocka stares blankly at the spirit for a moment, mapping out the story in his head, now understanding fully how the spirit is his initial creator. He turns his head to the water for a moment as he grinds his teeth, squinting his eyes. The spirit watches Zogrocka for a moment before speaking, “Come with me.” The spirit slowly drifts across Zogrocka’s gaze, snapping him out of his absent thinking. The Orc gets up as he follows behind the spirit, still in his deep high, tumbling as the sand appears to be moving faster than he is walking.

The dark shaman and the spirit soon reach a pitch black cave, where they both stop, Zogrocka wearily staring at the dim maw. The spirit gestures smoothly to the cave “After you,” it says to Zogrocka, stepping back for a moment. Zogrocka looks at the cave, slowly walking into its maw, the spirit tracing behind him.

 

 

The two enter the cave, all is silent, only the solemn sound of a rock tumbling can be heard. Zogrocka looks at the spirit for a moment, his brows furrowed as he turns back to the cave, wandering about it’s small structure “Why did you bring me here?” Asks the Orc as he kicks a rock slightly.

The spirit stands in the same spot, looking at Zogrocka with a sturdy gaze “This is the cave where the first of the three brothers will return,” he says as he looks around the cave. More rocks can be heard moving, the cave pitch black, except for the dim light which shines form the maw of the cave.

“I cannot see anything,” says the dark shaman feeling the wall as he traces his hand along it to guide him. He looks to the spirit for a moment, before his hand comes across a smooth surface. The surface almost feels soft, he slowly turns his attention to what he’s feeling. His black eyes squint at his hand as he pokes the odd substance. He sees a pair of bright yellow balls before him, before he is grabbed from both arms. He feels two hands on hi chest as he’s pushed against a pillar in the cave.

Zogrocka looks to where the spirit should be, but he has disappeared. He looks ahead, a dim light shining on the face of a black-skinned Orc, the dark shaman after being knocked out.

 

 

The Orc wakes up, now in a fine lit room. He attempts to move, though he is restrained to a stone altar. He looks around, several Orcs around him, all covered with black cowls and their heads bowed as they murmur words in the ancient tongue. Zogrocka sets his head back as he begins rotating his hands, trying to free himself loose of the bindings. He feels two hands push on his forearms, he looks up as he sees a giant black olog staring down at him, taking its hands off the dark shaman.

Zogrocka freezes his movements as he looks around as the several Orcs continue their silent chant. He hears footsteps come closer to him, two Orcs with drums making their way past him, and towards of the back of the room. Followed behind them is another Orc, standing between the two drummers. His eyes fall upon Zogrocka, the two exchanging looks. The Orc nods to the crowd, the two drummers slowly beating onto their drums. The single Orc begins to chant loudly, the several other Orcs remaining silent.

The Orc chants louder, the several others joining in simultaneously. The drummers begin to pick up their pace as the chant becomes louder, the eight Orcs perfectly on note with each other. A black mist seeps from the ceiling above Zogrocka, at eye level with him. The dark shaman quirks a brow as he presses his head against the stone.

The continuous chanting repeats as the mist grows closer to Zogrocka, close to his face as of now. The chant grows to its peak as the odd substance comes into contact with the dark shaman’s face, entering through his nose, his eyes shutting instantly afterwards, and the chant coming to dead silence…

Zogrocka wakes up in the oasis where he once was, though he’s confused about his whereabouts. He looks at his hands, his expression confused. He jumps up as he looks at his red scars. He touches his face, feeling his horns and devilishly long tusks. He turns to the water, going to look at is reflection, seeing his completely black irises and whites. The orc jumps back up as he looks around the desert, looking in the sky. He wanders out of the oasis as he searches for land…

[marimbamonk 1501]

((Very good read. Liked how you crafted the summoning ritual.))

[Raptorious 1899]

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