~ There and back Again ~

[HedgeHug 2049]

 

Spoiler

It pleases me that I can share with you: this story/roleplay that has been going on for quite some time now. It is a sequel to the initial storyline of Phaedrus'Yar Post mortum. This story is the pinnacle of shaman roleplay, and spirit interaction. I would like to thank @shimmeringbliss and @CosmicWhaleShark for this roleplay.

 

Its a long read, but if it is within your interest, it is well worth the read. Feel free to respond out of character below, for no in character reactions apply.

 

Enjoy! +1's are always appreciated.

 

Highly recommended:

Spoiler

 

 

 

Chapter One: Connection

The orcish jungle a thick mess. The undergrowth filled with all but good. A lone path leads to the city of San’Garath. Along it, a multitude of shrines, skulls and warnings would mark the orcish territory all too well. It would be north, where his den was located. Out of the way of everyday life, hidden in the thick woods. The area surrounding the elders tent littered with shrines of various sizes. On the path, an anvil marked:

 

~ “Shrine ub Phaedruz” ~

 

In here the elder lived a solitary life, devoting his lone hours to the spirits. Converting with them, and spend time in his smith. Few birds were ever send out, and few orcs visited, but those few birds who did went out, always seemed to fly in the same direction: The north east.

 

Once more, Siri would find a hawk tapping the glass of her home. The same message send, the same reading:

 

“Siri, you are welcome in the Uzg. You carry the Mark of the Widow. I encourage you to visit, I live north of the city of San’Thraka, I am waiting…” Signed: Shagarath of Yar.

 

~

 

She would receive the message yet again, sighing slightly as she reads it from her room. These messages would always conjure a mixed bag of emotions. The prospect of facing her love always delighted her, but the reality of his death always crashes back down upon her anew. Those lonely nights leading up to the meets were always the worst.

 

She gathered some apples from the nearby orchards, settling it besides some clothes, and some beef jerky. All of the things a spirit wants, apparently. She sets off to meet her orcish friend, clasping her lapis necklace tightly in her hand.

~

 

Not long after but a short boat trip to the south west, an hour long walk and crossing of a duo of bridges, she would arrive at the entrance of the uzg. A small palisade decorated with bones, skulls and warning signs to scare of any that dared ‘venture’ into the jungle. She shuffled on, unsure. The various sounds of the jungle moving all about her. She would meet an occasional orc, or two. Whom would eye her, walk towards her, yet upon sighting the lapis gem back off immediately. For whom would dare mess with Shagarath, the Shaman of Old.

 

A short trip and the city gates were sighted, following a road to her left would lead north, past the lake, following a small creek into a lighter and seemingly more calm patch of jungle. A small bridge would lead to a path, ending up at the elders den. As she would put aside the cloth making up the tents entrance, she would see the familiar figure, with its back facing towards the doorway, in a meditation position.

 

“Trom’Ka, Siri.” It speaks, his tone soft and kind. Eyes closed.

 

~

 

She gazes upon the back of the elderly orc. How strange, it seems she can only ever tolerate and possibly befriend these aged and weary creatures, as if they were a complete different race from those brash and ostensible orcish brutes. She sets her basket of goodies to the side, approaching him in measured paces. “Good day, Shagarath.”

 

~

 

“Ah long tik it haz beehn.” he speaks, both eyes opening. He raises his right, signalling her. “Kome, wi muzt blah” precaution had been taken and a soft pillow lay in front of the orc, making a comfortable seat. “Iet haz beehn ah long tik az wehl, zinze mi vizitut Phadruz.” He spoke as she would make her way over.

 

~

 

“I have visited Phaedrus twice since our first trip, but none since coming to these strange lands.” She nods appreciatively as she seats herself upon the fluffy upholstery, folding her hands across her lap.

 

~

 

The elder answered with a short chuckle. “Diz.. Jungul haz maid long diztanz travulin’ ah bit… murr difikult. Ahlzo dah internazionahl affaihrz betweehn dah Uzg agh dah Twiggehz am nub-hozh. Ebur zinze wi, dah shomo’s, am peep’d az dah rezun Vailurr wehnt down.” The two sat there, merely separated by a small fire, lighting up both of their faces. “Ziri, am lat… redeh?” He inquires prior to performing the ritual, the light on her face making him able to see all emotions, fear, hesitation though maybe determination as well.

 

 

Her lips thin lightly at his ubiquitous saying, but simply nods, biting back down her flash of irritation and impatience. “Politics have never bothered me, and they shan’t now. I am ready, Shagarath.” She clasps her pendant tightly, holding it close to her.

 

~

 

Shagarath inclines his head. The pipe for the ritual already in his hand and filled with some dummed down cactus green. The jungle had been though for the shamans, the addictive green barely having the same quality it had back in the desert. A simple stick putin the fire acted as a match, and soon the odor of herbs filled the blargh. The orc extended his arm, offering her the pipe, a soft smile on his elderly visage. “Ahlright.”

 

~

 

She takes hold of the pipe, gazing upon the smooth contours of its wooden base for a moment, wondering idly if she still had Phaedrus’s pipe somewhere. She lifts it up to her lips, sucking in a few small puffs, before taking longer drags of the concoction as soon as she became accustomed to it.

 

~

 

The shaman observes her suck a few puffs. Upon returning of the pipe the orc takes a few big hits, allowing some time to pass to let the herbs kick in. The mild drug only affecting mildly and therefore the elder smokes more. Slowly he taps on his lap. An easy, rhythm. Dub dubdub dub. Along this he hums a low tune, prior to the chant. The shaman then starts chanting words in spiritual tongue. “Ilzgul Phaedruz, Dâg Nargzabghûlum!”

 

~

 

Her body sways about, quite unaccustomed to taking any form of relaxant in general. Soon her eyelids flutter shut, her vision darkening around her as she tries to concentrate upon his voice amidst the warm hazy feeling, curling and caressing her head with sweet promises of slumber. The shamans tunes only serves to zone out even more so.

 

~

 

Eventually both would lose consciousness, and their forms lower atop the soft carpet of the tent. Vision regained in a realm, far from the uzg.

 

 

 

Chapter Two: Reunion

They come upon the forests in due time, lead on the back of the great tortoise of the Yar clan. It is night time there, and while the stars dot the sky by the hundreds, a soft orange glow can be seen within the canopy on the horizon. Being lead to shore finally, glints of torchlight and in turn bonfires can be seen scattered deep within the treeline, mainly collected to where the next hilly clearing is. From this distance things are not all too clear, but there are sudden surges of jeering and yelling by what sounds like a very large group, and the occasional whooping or screaming of a single individual pierces through the trees constantly.

 

~

 

The shaman, accompanied by the woman atop the turtle shell taps his staff on the shell, pointing his digit in the general direction of the sounds. The turtle soon changes its direction and moves closer towards the clearing. With narrowed eyes Shagarath peers into the distance to spectate the spectacle.

 

~

 

The shoreline begins to shallow up into a babbling brook before receding even further until it trickles into a small creek, flowing through the crevice between the two forested hills. Trees bend, twist, groan, and snap under the weight and general mass of the lumbering man-eating tortoise as it lumbers along still carrying its passengers. Blurs of swinging torches and the quick fading in and out of a whooping Uruk running by begin to encompass them, until they find themselves surrounded by what seems to be an entire horde of extremely diverse Uruks. Some are dancing, wearing rattles and feathered trinkets, while in some cases carrying sloshing horns of dark drink that smell staler than ale and stronger than rum. As the tortoise lumbers up the second hill, trudging through the clearing, the Uruks make way and seem to pay no mind. Offering their cheers and jeers to Shagarath, most not even paying mind to the elfess. Some that do, cheer just as they did to Shargarath, those that don’t are too drunk or confused to take quarrel, fortunately.

 

Upon clearing the crest of the hill, the villa of Phaedrus can finally be seen in the shallow valley clearing off in the distance. A sea of lights twinkle past the treeline, as if an entire nation has taken up camp within the forests and around the home. The green tide is speckled with beautiful twists of red, black, and the occasional dot of white or grey. It is quite simply a festival of supernatural proportions.

 

~

 

The old orc mutters, laughs and curses at the joy the orcs have in the Stargush’stroh. “Fuckers are all feasting…” He mumbles as they ride on. Holding an arm around Siri’s body, whom must be terrified by the scene around her. They arrive at the villa not long after. The forge appears empty. The two demount.

 

~

 

As they enter into the villa, Uruks fall in through the open roof above the pool, splashing into it and throwing up waves to the others that sit on its side drinking, punching, and throwing their empty drinking vessels at one another. Some raise their hands up only to have another sloshing and ready to be drunk from again in their hands with flashes of light and puffs of smoke, while another more gluttonous Olog by the looks of things changes the very pool water to a dark ale, squatting down in it and beginning to drink. As this spectacle is occurring before the two guests, a familiar couch is seen flying through the air with a wood elf straddled upon it, screaming. It crashes into splinters against the opposite wall and the Elven man faceplants into the stonework with a crunch of bone amidst the shattering of wood and the thuds of fabric. He springs back up again, spitting out a glob of blood that drains into his throat, before setting his nose again with a growl as he suddenly roars.

 

“Zaûk lagug krûrz! Lat paashnar puzgug lat aandatûrz globlob!”

 

~

 

The orc opens the door for the woman, only to then immediately pull her away to allow the olog to fly past. With widened eyes the elder follows the olog, and the path from which he came, the spectacle before him beyond anything he had ever seen. “. .. what? .. .” He utters, keeping Siri close to him. He dashes left, to prevent a fist colliding with his jaw, then right to evade a flying bottle. The scream then catches his attention, his eyes following the majestic flying path of the couch, only to then cringe upon sighting it impact with the wall. “That must hurt.” He murmurs, going to walk towards the spot. “Phaedrus!”

 

~

 

With blood splashed across his face still, nose somewhat offset, he turns his attention to his name. Blinking a few times at Shagarath he furrows his brow, before realization comes across his face, and he throws his arms out wide before moving to tackle the Orc in a hug. “Ah, welcome! When did you get here?” After the hug he holds onto Shagarath with a light pull, keeping himself steady evidently against him.

 

~

 

“...” He chuckles at the state of Phaedrus. “Not long ago… and I have brought with me, a gift.” To which he side-stepped, revealing the most sacred package he carried with him in a protective manner, standing idly behind him checking the scene about. She would not notice Phaedrus yet.

 

~

 

Her eyes crinkle about in amusement as she watches this juvenile act of her husband’s little revelry, letting loose a low whistle as he staggers against the elderly shaman. With a quick little pull, she slips  out of her chaperon’s hold, standing before Phaedrus with her hands clasped behind her back. She does not say a word yet, content to simply observe the festivities of drunken orcs and screaming ologs.

 

~

 

Phaedrus raises his eyebrows in surprise before a wide grin stretches across his face, looking her over quickly before swiftly stepping over to her. He stumbles against her, cupping her face in his hands with a gentle hold before proceeding to peck her forehead several times. He bumps his own head against hers after as he simply stands there laughing for a few moments before slurring out in a clearly inebriated tone. “Karin’throm’ka, sundrop.”

 

~

 

Shagarath stays where he was. Smiling at the sight to then emit an awkward cough to break the silence. “I’ll be over at the bar… I must speak with you when you two are done, Phaedrus.” He says on a rather serious tone, but ends his words with a warm smile. He turns around and tries to make his way through the mass of orc and olog meat, cursing loudly before reaching the bar, and ordering a drink.

 

~

 

She giggles as he showers her with many little kisses, eventually holding him by the shoulders as she tries to contain her drunk husband. “Karin’thromka? That’s a new one. Where did you get all these orcs?”

 

~

 

He purses his lips again as he is reminded of the fact that he has other company, looking around the room slowly with a hazy squint. After a few moments it dawns on him that he was asked a question and realization sweeps over his features, before quickly snapping back to Siri as he clears his throat. “Ah, well… Everywhere. We are celebrating the demise of Ogron, I decided to host, for obvious reasons.” He says with a knowing grin.

 

~

 

“But…. Where did they come from?” She blinks in surprise, trying to identify any of the orcs mid flight, or splashing around in the pool.

 

~

 

He glances over to where she’s looking, peering at a few with slow blinks before simply shrugging. “Vrogak’s in the other room, somewhere, he’s the one who threw me… Ah… We have some Ugluks, one Lur, and ah.... Well the red one is a Rax. It gets a bit confusing when we typically refer to each other as brother… Especially in this sort of setting.”

~

 

“Are they…. Dead? Or are they just visiting like me and Shagarath?”

 

~

 

“You two are the only ones here that are currently tethered, yes. The rest here are ancestrals, it’s the nature of Orcish culture to have many fallen ancestors.”

 

~

 

“Ah…… Vrogak, I remember meeting him before.” She trails off, watching as a brawl just started happening 10 feet away from them, as several ologs start clubbing one another with chairs and table tops. “Well, congratulations on the… party?”

 

~

 

He winces slightly before shrugging apologetically with a small sigh, seeming to be sobering up at a rather fast pace, if not already cleansed. He brings his hand to her back, guiding the both of them out to the forge. “I really wasn’t expecting a visit, at least not so soon. We started some time last year.” Those already gathered there make their ways out with the shooing hand of Phaedrus and a few shouts. A goblin lagging behind the rest of the group is sure to provide several hand gestures on his departure. “How is the secretary handling her new transition?”

 

~

 

“Terrible. Tristin resigned, and in his resignation he basically showed the world he would never want to actually unify the mali people. He’s a warrior, not a politician. I almost resigned as well, but Art convinced me to just stay until they pick a new High Prince.” She starts to ramble on, before suddenly catching herself, covering her mouth with an embarrassed look. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be whining so soon into our visit. And well, Shagarath invited me along this time. I think he wants to ask you something.”

 

~

He nods in response, saying nothing as he reaches out to hold the hand which covers her mouth, bringing it to him as he kisses her knuckles for a moment before cracking a grin behind it. “No need to be so formal, my dear. You can do whatever you wish on your visits, whatever helps. You should be relaxed, not on guard… And, yes, I gathered as much. I just wanted to steal you away a bit first.

 

~

 

“Well its business first, isn’t it? The last thing I want to do is spoil your party and chase all your guests away…”

 

~

He furrows his brow slightly as he looks her over for a few moments, kissing her hand once again before giving it a long squeeze. “Something’s amiss, I wish for us to talk first. You come before anything, even business, sundrop. What’s wrong, Siri?”

 

~

 

“No no, you know how I prefer to have you settle any other distractions first before our sit downs! And this is like, the first time I’ve ever seen you so….. Happy and lively.”

 

~

“I think that was the first time you saw me remotely drunk, rather, Siri. If you’ve seen me, then you’ve seen me happy, because it means I am with you.” He offers her a flash of a grin afterwards before pulling her in to peck her forehead yet again, leaning toward her ear to whisper. “And I know you’ve seen me more lively. I’ll head in to speak to Shagarath, I’ll try to not be too long.”

 

~

 

She giggles at that, giving him a loving hug in return. “That’s a new thing to do then, get you super drunk! I’ll go raid your pantry in that case, I’m sure Shagarath will want to talk to you about some serious business amidst broken furniture and ruined curtains~”

 

~

 

He smirks slightly as she giggles, before giving her a final nod as he reluctantly lets her hand fall away from his. “I’ll try to not be too long.” He repeats, before exiting the forge and heading back into the villa. During the talks, strangely enough, it seems to have gotten considerably quieter. A few Uruks are still walking in and out of the trees, looking toward the villa for a few moments before departing on their ways. The ringing of the forest noises replacing the chaos of the whole festival with a sudden flood as the awareness begins to sink in.

 

 

Chapter Three: A Deal

Amidst the broken furniture and thrown about shrubbery, the old orc sits sipping what appears to be a glass of wine. “Hrm.. fruity yet.. Warm. Exquisite.” He exclaims upon tasting. He spots Phaedrus entering, a smile forming on his face. “And how are the two lovebirds doing? I’m sure you two must be happy to be united!”

 

~

 

He claps at Shagarath’s back as he moves to sit beside him, arching his brow in bemusement toward the glass of wine before simply dismissing it. He clears his throat as he moves to meet the old Uruk’s gaze, practically bowing his head as he nods in thanks. “We’ll be settling in after our business is concluded, she may not be Haelun’orian, but bless her she’s still mali’aheral. Woman can’t sit still if there’s work to be done. Thank you, for the opportunity, as always, Shagarath.”

 

~

 

“Work?” he arches a brow, taking another sip from the glass “ooh, yes. But of course.” He changes position in his broken seat. “The council of the Shamanic order exclaimed a problem. That with your death, and Thuraks disappearance, the line of Farseers has been broken. I brought forth the Idea to bring two orcs with me, for you to test. If found worthy, you could seize this lack of farseers, for the great of Krugmar and the spirits. Oh and… if you haven’t noticed already. Kharak now has transcended to the Stargûsh’Stroh as well.” He speaks on a more serious tone.

 

~

 

He blinks a few times through Shagarath’s explanation, nodding gently a few times before simply offering a shrug. “I’ve been too busy celebrating the folly of his puppeteer, to notice. His presence doesn’t seem to be significant enough, to notice, in fact.” He arches his brow with a coy smirk, clearing his throat afterwards, “I’ve always been ready to teach, Shagarath… Although I thought I was going to be teaching you.” He follows up, squinting at the old Uruk with pursed lips.

 

~

 

He averts his gaze to the glass. “I have my reasons not to do so… I am a witchdoctor, I curse. I find it.. Conflicting having both the ability to bless and curse, afraid to mix them up.” He mumbles. “There are some, who have not yet wielded the shamanic arts, they in my opinion, are eligible.

 

~

 

He stares Shagarath down with a stern expression for a few drawn out moments of silence, before finally clearing his throat as he replies. “Then I shall strike a deal with you. For every time you wish me to give a lesson, you shall also give me a chance to see my wife. Simple, to the point, and not negotiable.” He states simply, tilting his head forward slightly as he gauges Shagarath for his response.

 

~

 

Shagarath huffs at his demands, reconsidering the effort it will take him. He eventually nods. “Ahgreed.” he grips Phaedrus by his shoulders. Moving back his head to headbutt on the agreement they made. The old orc slightly badazzled afterwards. He loses consciousness and later wakes up in his home.

 

Siri stays for an hour more, spending time with her husband, before she too leaves him and his realm. She wakes up next to Shagarath, whom had been watching over her.

They talk shortly, then part their ways.

 

 

[Man of Respect 5471]

Worth every second of my time, very good.

[Smaw 2376]

Kharak has his own, private party.

[Travista 1361]

Schreck'Lak lumbers aimlessly around Savoy's his swamp.

[herculean_wud 3662]

V nice read.

Spoiler

The typos at the beginningtriggered me immensely, however. 

 

[HedgeHug 2049]

26 minutes ago, Grubgoth Wud said:

Spoiler

The typos at the beginningtriggered me immensely, however. 

 

 its still roleplay, it has flaws :' ) mercy pal, mercy.

[Moby_Derp 163]

Good read when watching Christians get kidnapped by Vikings ;)