Akyzu, Hear My Plea

[Samoblivion 532]

Masked by the dark of early dawn did Lukra'Braduk sneak into Gund'Kothz. The plague had come quickly and afflicted many brothers and sisters, splitting the Uzg between the healthy and the infected. Many of those not suffering from the plague had barricaded themselves in their blargs to wait out the sickness or, like Lukra, had retreated into the far reaches of Orc territory. This plague was no mundane disease, but the consequence of the sun's return - the consequence of the shamanistic ritual that had sealed the corrupted volcano and kept the ash cloud from growing. Now, the fallen ash had cursed her brethren and Lukra saw no recourse but to beseach higher powers.

Under cover of darkness she entered her blarg in the Braduk district, ever wary of the muffled cries of blinded and hallucinating greenskins. She wondered briefly if the Rex, Kahn'Braduk was among them, for it was rumoured that his months-long ailment was linked to the new plague. She put that thought from her mind and pressed on, reaching her blarg and slipping in.

Lukra'Braduk was a warrior of the Krughai, like all in the Uzg, but when she was not hunting she toiled in the darkness of the desert mines to bring forth the ore that gave the Iron Uzg its name. More often than not, however, she came across other minerals somewhat inconsequential to the Orcs, but treasured by other forces in the world. She opened her ore chest, smiling as she beheld the contents intact - bluestone, lapis lazuli.

Filling a canvas sack, she stole out of the district and through the twins valleys of the goi, past the caves of afflicted brothers and the now silent construction site of a new fortress. As silently as a towering uruk could, she slipped over the walls of the plagued orcish city. But she could not relax. The lands east of goi were Gorkil territory and she did not know how many of Wargoth Duruh's kin had been afflicted. Although from observing the infected she believed she could still carry out her task, she dared not risk herself. If there was no cure to be found she may be one of the few healthy uruks left and one to whom the questionable honour of repopulating and rebuilding the nation of violence fell to where everyone else to suddenly die. As unlikely as Lukra thought that possibility she remained firm in her resolution that contact with her brothers and sisters was too great a risk.

Presently, Lukra reached a cross-road in the gorkil canyons. She briefly wondered about going to the shaman Elphaba'Gorkil for aid, but she had shut out all outside her blarg when the chaos began. No help would be found with Elphaba'Gorkil. Lukra remained true to her original course and climbed the small hill as the sun rose, to the oxbow dune in which her goal lay. She beheld the blarg of Wargoth Duruh Gorkil and its centrepiece - the Shrine of Akyzu, Spirit of Healing. The shrine itself was composed of a simple stone altar and a magnificent carved statue of a winged serpent in quartz. Out of the corner of her eyes, Lukra saw dancing blue lights, a sign of the spirit's presence in this most well maintained of spirit shrines.

She marched resolutely toward the altar hefting her sack toward it. Lukra was no shaman, but that did not matter. The shamans could speak to the spirits, but the spirits could still hear the words and see the actions of normal mortals. With little decorum, the fe-uruk emptied the bag across the altar, tipping obscene quantities of lapis - a stone sacred to Akyzu - onto it. Casting the sack aside, she walked forward and drew a knife. Slitting both palms with nary a grunt, she allowed her blood to seep into the blue stone, dust and powder atop the altar. Kneeling, with arms outstretched she spoke.

"Akzyu, heyur mi plea! Da urukz arr afflikted bai a bubhozh playgue. A kurze of 'Wrath' da mommozkah hu Phaedruz kazt da zowl-zukka into da vulkaynoh to chahlenge. Oh bubhozh Zpirid ub Healin! Heyul uz ub diz playgue! Ur if nub, zhow uz da path tuu kurin id zu we kan fayz owur enemiez mortal agh nub-mortal in owur full powur!"

Lukra kneeled there, in the sand, waiting for however long it took. In many ways she did not expect an answer from the spirit, but she had to try at least this once. As the day wore on she remained their kneeling. Infected may come across her, but she stayed, as long as she dared - until sunset - for an answer, any answer from the spirits.

Edited September 24, 2015 by Samoblivion

[James 425]

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