A Cultist Born

[Tom_Whiteman 949]

 

            The scorched brick and stone sizzle with hot gloom to themselves, the fire around the corrupted area crackling. Black pillars erect from the cracks of the hot earth. A lonesome Orc lay in the center of a large eye, the eye of the betrayer, the eye of Iblees. The Lutauman, Zhol'Lur awakens, his bloodshot eyes cracking open as he looks around the corrupted area. His lips are cracked, dry; his skin scorched, black; his tusks, charred. A fiend watches from a distant, a small child, dressed like a demon. 

            The pink eyes glitter playfully, watching the suffering Orc awake from his slumber. Zhol crawls through the heated soul sand, the heat dragging along his skin as he approaches the child which is proped against a large, blacked pillar. They do not say a word to each other for many moments, nothing is heard but the hell-fire that burns in its place. A childish voice suddenly enters the Orc's skull, echoing playfully, "Why are you here? Why sleep here all these nights?"

            Zhol lets out a very rasp, very dry, very churned voice in reply, "I wish to speak with the Undead; I wish for revenge."

            "Why so?" Asks the child, propping its head, its lips not moving, just the soulless tone of his voice echoing through the mind of the descendant.

            "The dishonor, the dishonor my people brought upon these new lands. Ever since I sailed here--" he pauses for a moment, his dried hands moving across the corrupt dirt "Ever since I sailed here my people have done nothing but shown great dishonor, peace cannot be with them," he says weakly, his face bearing many signs of fatigue and drought.

            "Name the dishonorably," states the fiend.

            "The Uruks of the War Uzg, they do not show any more strength the last time they battled your kind"

            The demon-child would lean in, its eyes bearing a wild sensation as the voice slowly speaks to Zhol, "Bring forth your tithe, bring aurum before me, and I will assure you your revenge."

 

 

            The Orc after a few moment's wait arises, making his way towards the cool jungle as he heads towards his people's lands, into the mighty fortified city of San'Vitar. He crashes into the blacksmith, the late night sky looming, though no smiths are present. A potato sack lay near, he collects it, going to the storage, he topples large ingots of aurum into the potato sack, filling it full. He seals the opening of a bag with a tight rope, as he leaves the smithy and the city.

            The Orc heaves the bag weakly along, back towards the corrupted land. He finds himself in front of the fiend, toppling the potato sack over as many a ton of ingots spread across the floor. A small smirk flashes across Zhol's face as the glimmering ingots bounce light onto the two's faces. The child bats his hand through the air, dismissing the Orc; Zhol's voice emits, however is quickly silenced out of fear. 

            Zhol takes his leave, glancing once back at the fiend, only to find himself staring at a large eye, the eye of the world destroyer, the eye of Iblees. A beam of fire flashes onto the Uruk, washing over his skin, scorching it further. The Orc roars at the top of his lungs, falling to his knees, then the burning sensation halting as all goes fine... All is fine, though his eyes, his eyes now bear a deep red iris, the taint of Iblees upon Zhol...

 

 

[i used my own gold to pay Sprat, don't worry Orcs]

[DrakeHaze. 2524]

Revilgaz the Muyakelg continues to wander around Athera and exterminate any and all dark forces and dark magic users where they stand, unhindered by the emotions children bear in their cores "Gul..".

Grogmar'Gorkil shrugs as a small gust of wind whips by, uncaring for a missing child.

[Raptorious 1899]

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