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He did not anticipate a thing to happen. One moment he was telling about a vision he had… a nightmare as if it was a story. The other moment his vision faded, and felt himself tumble to the ground.

 

Rubbing his temples he grunted… soon standing up and observing his surroundings. What he found startled him. A cold enveloped him, paired with the familiar scent of death and decay. A blinding fog all about him obstructing his further vision.

 

For moments he stood there, peering in that darkness… fearing… dreaming a dream no mortal ever dreamed before.

 

The dead silence then broken, by the croak of a crow, causing the shaman to jump up a little from his startled position. He ventured forth, into the darkness.

 

“Lazy…” A voice uttered on the breeze.

 

“Nothing you have done… to stop them…” it spoke, direction unknown.

 

“After all the hard work you have done… to please me” A cackle echoed over the landscape.

 

“Cease this… madness! We were blind, misguided! By your mischievous will.” The shaman cried out into the mist.

 

“Cease? CEASE? BAH!” The voice replied. Its source now closer to him than ever before.

 

Before him, Orgon appeared again. Still in its weakened state, fragile… broken.

 

“You ceased to obey my will, Shagarath. I ordered you to feed me… sacrifice for me… curse for me. Yet you have done NOTHING” It barket at the shaman, in the voice of a daemon.

 

“Now go back, and serve me… or else retribution shall ensue”

 

“Go back… “


“Feed me…”

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Jukha remembers the way Orgon destroyed Vailor, looking to his children he told the tale of how he had fought with the other Uruks against Orgon's minions and how they had fled to the isles of Axios.

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