Encircled By Blood

[SteelMarshall 190]

~Blah has been translated to Common, for easier reading.~

 

 

The sun had crept under the horizon, and only the slightest hues of light remained to fight against the pitch black that descended like a heavy blanket. The heat that had once baked the plains was only just beginning to cool as the first of the stars began to peek through the canvas of night. Beasts and people alike were retiring for the day, and soon enough they would lay down and rest in their beds of down and hay. Yet there were some who still had work to do. And for them, this late hour was as good as any.

 

A sudden yet feeble light sprang forth in the night, and revealed a vast expanse of sand, eerie in the faltering glow. The light bobbed and weaved for several meters before pausing. A much more brilliant glare burst forth from the smaller light, and its blaze revealed its identity. The smaller light was a torch, wrapped on one end in a wax-soaked cloth, which had been used to start a large bonfire. The radiance from both illuminated two faces; one rugged and scarred, the other long and gaunt. The first belonged to a massive and muscle-bound orc, who towered even above the ravenous flames that he had lit. The firelight danced across his marred skin and cast a nightmarish shadow behind him. White streaks of paint were daubed along his large flanks, and his clothing made from impressive pelts and skins. Rex Rusk'Dom stood in all of his splendor; his physique and and posture alone was enough to warrant the commonplace belief that he was very identical to the progenitor of the orcish people, Krug.

 

The other set of features hung on the fringe of the bonfire; the fierce light only just illuminated the pale-green flesh, and it cast deep shadows within the crevices of the angular countenance. A heavy brow hung over sunken eyes, which flashed in the firelight. A threadbare hood, sewn of cloth and stitched with fine sinew, hung over the uruk's frightening physiognomy. The hood was attached to a short shawl of the same material, which left most of its wearer's chest and torso exposed to the elements. The orc's loincloth clinked softly when he moved, an array of trinkets and oddities hanging from loops of cord and rope. The figure moved closer to the warmth of the roaring fire, his back hunched. His name was Thur'Druul.

He was practically dwarfed by the Rex, who stood on the other side of the hungry flames. He was quite shorter than most, perhaps all, of his kind; yet it did not seem to faze the stunted uruk in the slightest. He reached behind his back, and revealed a large sheaf made of burlap.

 

"Here it is, teacher. The ingredients."

 

Thur rolled out the rough bundle, exposing its contents to the night air. A heap of thick wooden staffs lay alongside a long, thin bone. The uruk's gnarled hands then clasped reverently around another object; a tall wooden cup, its mouth covered by stretched hide to hold its contents. He untied the artifact from its place on his belt, his long nails clicking against its sides as he held it delicately. The Rex nodded, and paced about the bonfire.

 

"Good, Thur'Druul. You have crafted staffs from the wood of each tree found in our lands. You have brought me a relic from one of your ancestors, and you hold the most important ingredient in your hands. This will be your first lesson."

 

Rusk then motioned for the cup with a meaty hand. Thur'Druul stepped forward, and the fire's glow shone on the cup. It was crude and rough in design, yet the runes etched in black on its lip set it apart. The stretched hide that had covered the cup's top was peeled away by a mangled claw. The distinct smell of blood began wafting from the full container almost immediately, sharp and aromatic. Thur'Druul inhaled deeply before he handed the beaker to his Rex. It was an heirloom that could be traced back to his most prominent ancestor; It was the Cup of Druul.

 

"Here it is the blood of an elf. Taken from the veins of the dark elven lord."

 

The Rex grunted in satisfaction, and began to slowly pace about his student. As he did so, he began to pour the contents of the cup upon the sand, which was still warm from the heat of the day. The sound of trickling liquid graced the relative silence, barely heard over the crackling of the fire. Several orcs had gathered on the plateau, and now watched in wonderment as Rusk completed the circle of blood, which had just enough room for teacher and apprentice. The two sat in the circle, and prepared to begin.

 

 

Before the ritual could commence, however, a commotion caused Thur and Rusk to hesitate. The small gang of observing uruks had congregated around something... or someone. A voice could be heard clearly despite the growing clamor. It was strong, yet higher in pitch than an uruk's vocal cords could allow, and it cut through the growls and snarls of the orcs. Thur'Druul's eyes flashed, and his ears twitched as he attempted to listen to what the outsider had come to say. Something about... trade? Yes, that was it. The speaker wished for an audience with the Rex. Thur'Druul shrugged; the other orcs would handle him. It was considered a gross breach of conduct for a non-orc to ascend the plateau; a show of disrespect, even. Perhaps his trade offer would be considered once he had been dealt his punishment. Yet something had caught the Rex's attention.

 

"He said that he is a high elf, and he comes here, to trade with us. I have never seen a high elf brazen enough to confront me. Is he a fool, or does he just seek death?"

 

Rusk spoke, his lower lip betraying his anger as it twitched around his large tusks.

 

"It is important to know that rituals are given great power when a sacrifice is provided. The lifeblood of the living, especially that of the descendants, is much more potent."

 

Those words, along with a subtle gesture, were all that Thur'Druul needed. He rose up from the sand and turned, heading slowly towards the dispersing crowd. The high elf had decided he would come another time, and had just begun to leave, though he had not begun to make his way down the steep slope. A call from the stunted orc halted him, and he turned.

 

"Yes?"

 

Thur'druul shuffled closer, and his hand slowly swept across his body, out towards the still-blazing fire. His long and spidery fingers gesticulated in a welcoming manner, curling outwards and extending from their sallow palm before clenching.

 

"Come. The Rex will speak with you now."

 

His gravelly voice was low, but the other uruks fell silent. Despite the kind gesture, something seemed very off to the high elf; the orc before him had offered him an audience with the Rex, which was what he had wanted, yet something about him had seemed quite sinister. His voice seemed too inviting, and it did not reach his eyes, which bored into the elf malevolently. The mali'aheral heard the clank and shift of moving armor behind him, and turned to see that the uruks had sensed trouble too, and were moving to cut off his escape.

 

"I... I think I'll just come back another time. I don't want to interrupt..."

 

He said, his voice wavering now. Thur'Druul's eyes shifted, and locked somewhere above and behind the elf, who realized with a sickening lurch what was about to happen. The willowy figure turned and bolted like a hare. He did not get far. Two orcs hauled him back up the plateau and dumped him at the feet of the hooded uruk. Thur did not hesitate; and the elf felt himself being dragged through the sand by his silvery hair.

 

"I came to trade! I only wanted to make a trade!"

 

The elf shrieked, his eyes wide as he struggled. Thur'Druul was a runt among the orcs of the War Nation, yet he still possessed the strength of his people, and he tossed the light elf into the circle of blood with ease. He then leered as he stepped forward, his teeth glistening in his ugly maw.

 

"We are making a trade. Your life... for power."

 

 

The Rex's hunting knife flashed in the firelight, and the handsome elf's life began to empty from his body in spurts of flowing red. Rusk then lifted the body from the ground, and used the fresh flow of blood to thicken the lines of the circle. The body was then placed in the center, and the two sat once again. The Rex took one of the long and twisted staffs that lay outside the circle, and held it over the freshly slain corpse, both of his hands gripping the wood. Thur'Druul did the same, and closed his eyes, allowing his muscles to relax. The Rex began to chant, his voice guttural and powerful. Verses of the Old Blah coursed across the plateau, and suddenly Thur'Druul felt as if he was being lifted from the ground. It was a feeling that could only be felt to be understood. Thur'Druul's body twitched and convulsed, though his spirit was far, far away.

 

Thur'Druul quickly found that he could not move or speak, and realized that he could do nothing more than observe. He felt his lips move, though not by a will of his own, and the Rex's voice rang forth. He was being shown the ancestral plane through the eyes of his teacher, an observer and little else.

 

"Gurak! Hear me, ancestor! I have brought you sacrifice; Now, will you give me your blessing?"

 

An uruk suddenly stood before Rusk; it wasn't as if he materialized, or faded into view. He was just... there. The ancestor of the Rex nodded.

 

"You have earned my blessing, Rusk of Dom. Let my power course through your veins!"

 

Then the vision ended, as abruptly as it had begun. Thur'Druul felt as if a great gust of air had buffeted his entire body, and his eyes shot open. The Rex stood up, and crossed the distance between the two in a step.

 

"This is the power of the ancestors."

 

Rusk'Dom lifted his student up with a strength impossible even for an orc of his stature, and tossed the uruk as if he was throwing a small rock, or a cub's toy. Thur'Druul sailed through the air, and landed audibly yet harmlessly a few meters away, the sand thrown up about his in a grainy cloud. He stared in bewilderment at the power that had coursed through the Rex's veins. He pushed himself up to his feet, his hands quivering with adrenaline and excitement as he removed his hood.

 

"You have been shown the realm of the ancestors, and seen but a taste of their power. Now, for your next task..."    

[Samson Option 9652]

 

Kridash'Dom folded his arms, admiring Rusk'Dom's feats thus far.

 

"Yub, hi muzt lead da Orks bicuz hi is bub'hozh ob' all!"

[Burkester 1247]

Rex Rusk'Dom awaits for Thur's return from his task.

(( really well written good job mate :) ))

[Glyc 234]

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