Devour the Spirits

[Smaw 2376]

"You must eat to survive, dear Golug"

 

 

 

The Mali'ker took his last step upon the ancient sand dune, drawing an arm upward to wipe the sweat that dripped so profusely from his forehead. He held his arm there for a moment, blocking out the piercing says of the sun that shot against the side of his ashen complexion. He squinted into the distance before him, assessing what he could barely see.

 

It was a near-crumbled cave sat in the mountain, a wound of times unforgiving passage. The dim entrance seemed adorned with several skulls, charred the colour of his own skin by some unknown event. Immediately, a sense of caution pervaded his core as he looked upon the macabre display, reaching quietly for the hilt of the dagger strapped around his waist.

 

"What is this supposed to be?" He asked, his crimson eyes fixed firmly on the sheet of darkness that draped over the cavern entrance.

 

 

 

 

"K' nae chul'ofihe?" A voice said, rumbling within the mind of the Dark Elf.

 

"Hungry?" He asked, pulling the dagger from the sheathe as he remained stationary in caution.

 

"Maehr'sae sulier, taliyu khel-onn." It responded in a familiar grumble.

 

"What, in a cave in the middle of nowhere? Why must it always be dark?" He said with a huff of irritation, shaking his head lightly as he began to shuffle forward along the sandstone. The voice merely chuckled in response as the Mali'ker continued to walk forward, eventually approaching the entrance. As he set his foot upon the floor, the skulls that sat around him vibrated, chattering against the sandstone.

 

The Elf shot back at this disturbance, raising his dagger upright as his body sprang into action. As he looked between the skulls, they suddenly began to settle once again into their prior state. Yet as they did so, a deep purple hue began to emanate from their eye-sockets, turning their attentions toward him.

 

"Wh-who goes there!?" He called out, his voice accompanied by tones of both anger and fear.

 

 

"Kranklûk!" A voice echoed, seemingly from within the cave. It was not the same tone as the voice that so often rumbled within his mind; It seemed to carry an aura of inherent power.

 

"An Orc?" He asked, maintaining his defensive position.

 

"Nar Uruk, kul-Ilzgûl. Mabaj skaat-an golm lat gothûrz dush!" The Voice exclaimed, a hint of humour apparent in its tone.

 

"Power?" The Elf asked, stepping forward slightly.

 

"Yes! You have studied the Black Speech well, Golug. Why?"

The Dark Elf shot his head back in mild confusion, peering into the darkness of the cave with a firm grip on his dagger. "The Spirits speak only the old tongue." He said, looking upon the darkness in silent contemplation for a moment. "Usually." He added.

 

"Indeed." The voice cackled. "Yet I am no ordinary Spirit. I come offering you dominion. Power over my lesser kin."

 

The Elf narrowed his eyes in apprehension, calling out to the void before him. "What for?" He asked.

 

"Zrii!" The voice said, bellowing an ear-shattering cackle. The skulls around the Elf joined in, chattering with laughter as he covered his ears in horror, dropping his dagger onto the ground.

[Travista 1361]

Schreck'Lak continues to gripe about the proportion of elves in his society and religion.

[PraiseTheLord 868]

((Good as Always, Smaw.))

[KBR 2046]

Burbur is sad that there is another elf dark shaman

[GDPR 014 48]

 

On 10/2/2016 at 1:24 PM, KBR said:

Burbur is sad that there is another elf dark shaman

 

Raime pats Burbur's head. "What's wrong? Do you need to sit?"

 

Kalfuris issues a crackle, curling in his draconic gauntlets briefly.

[Wendigo 786]

Moved to the Archive. If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.