Creation of an Abomination

[HedgeHug 2049]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIwgi_K-EA8

 

Kharak’Raguk sighed in relief, having finally reached the shores of the dense Jungle. In a languid pace, he made his way to the ebb and flow of the shores, reaching down with his bucket and collecting a sizeable amount of sea water.

 

He rose to his feet, setting the bucket down upon the grainy shore as he reached into the pouch strapped to his waist. As his hand slipped inside, he grimaced, pulling out a handful of cactuses. He quickly held them over the bucket, squeezing the juices into the container of sea water, as streams of blood began to trickle from his wounded palms.

 

When he had drained the cactus of all fluid, he placed his blood smeared hand upon the handle of the bucket, hauling it up and making his way toward a stygian cave off in the distance.

 

He stepped cautiously into the darkness, an overwhelming stench pervading his nostrils as he edged further inside. Before him lay beds of sand, set about in an unusual fashion; as if to resemble a grave.

 

As the Witch Doctor inspected the “graves”, he nodded with content, proceeding to pour the contents of the bucket into the burial areas as he chanted in mumbles and groans.

 

~ meanwhile

 

Shagarath of Yar, the elder orc, stepped down into his den. After having spoken with the Rex on their plans he needed to clear his mind, hours he spent there, meditating, thinking on that which would come. “Ahlright” He spoke to himself, the orc filling himself with determination to carry out the task at hand. The elder smokes his green, and after having chanted few muffled verses of the shamanic tongue, his vision fades to black, and the body sinks in. As if asleep.

 

 

He awakens shortly after. Having regained his vision he takes up his surroundings, a grin appearing on his face as he sees he ended up not far from where he planned to go. The sky was covered by a grey mist, the rocky fields around him containing small patches of green. In the distance few stone ruins formed the landscape of the ancestral plane. Shagarath stood up, his trusty staff in hand, and set off into the misty ruins.

 

It was not a long journey, for the shaman soon spotted the road to his destination. A short walk later and he arrived. Before him stood a large stone pillar, a stairway was carved into the sides, spiraling up to the plateau the pillar had formed. With great effort the old orc climbed up, pausing when necessary. Upon arriving the cold breeze send a chill down his spine.

 

 

Before him stood a shrine of stone pillars, positioned in a circle. Determined the orc stepped inside, finding himself surrounded by them. He sat down. And waited.

 

The air remained still and musty, the rolling of a mere breeze the only disturbance. Upon the grizzled ork’s arrival the spirit he had been seeking revealed himself, side-stepping from each of the plethora of erect stone constructs. He slowly laid eyes upon Shagarath an expression of apparent disdain very much so plastered to his battle-scarred countenance, “What brings you, curious Shaman, to my abode?” Escaped his tusked mandible crudely, “I’m not accustomed to intrusive visitors such as yourself.”

 

The elder remained surprisingly calm despite the spirits hostile attitude, seemingly deeming his safety as a given. “Reveal yourself, spirit. I have come to talk.” The elder remained seated in the middle of the circle.

 

“Talk of what?” He inquired, “What you bear is too insignificant for myself,” He replied snarkily before hoarsely chuckling.

 

“Is it?” The orc smirked “I have an offer. But can not present it if you remain hidden….”

 

The spirit growled, his snide comments having been put to rest by the intruder. He appeared irritated, but secretly was interested with the offer, “Go ahead.” The spirit continued, slowly slinking from his hiding place, “But I warn you, ork, if I find it futile the outcome will not be pleasant on your behalf.”

 

Shagarath looked up inspecting the orc before him. He listened well to his threats yet remained calm. “I offer you… a vessel. One able to sail the Mortal Realm.” He spoke, observing the spirits reaction. “There is however, one catch.”

 

“Utter falsity!” He yelled in his husky voice, cocking back a balled fist abruptly, “I told you uruk!” He bellowed, appearing more annoyed than prior, going to lurch his fist forth in Shagaraths direction.

 

The elder’s visage changes from one at ease, to that of fear. Upon impacting of the fist and the orcs chest the shaman fell backwards. “Its true! I’m telling you..” He pleads as he notices his knowledge of the spirit was true.

 

“All I need… is your name” He speaks, ending his plead and attempting to come to a stand.

 

“MY NAME?” He roared, “Now why would I give you my name? How do I know this isn’t part of some conniving scheme!?” He added, “You arrive, invading my domicile, preaching of some ridiculous offer, then demand my name. . .why would I believe you!?” He growled, curling green digits around the pommel of a crude orcish cleaver,

 

The orc stood up, facing the spirit, with a raised voice he roared back: “You don’t. It is a matter of trust. Your name, for a vessel. That is the deal I can strike with you.” His eyes traveled down to the cleaver the spirit held. “Accept this generous offer, I encourage you.”

 

The spirit swept away some jet black hair from his forehead, releasing his grasp on the feat of orcish blacksmithing, “Alright. . .” He mumbled, trailing off, “I accept your offer, shaman.”

 

With this, the spirit stepped forth, and spoke to the shaman his real name. Thus giving Shagarath power over him. “I thank you.. We shall meet soon.” He spoke, shortly before his form faded from the spiritual plane.

 

The body in the tent woke up, and traveled back to the uzg to report to Kharak.

 

A few days later a growl was heard from the cave, and the graves were emptied...

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

(( Thanks to Smawton and Grubgoth_Wud for doing their parts))