of Stone bonds and Monoliths

[HedgeHug 2049]

Thank you @Catarrh for the roleplay and thus co-writing this story!

 

of Earthly bonds and Monoliths

A tale about the strength that the Earth has, and those that harnesses it

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One: A search

 

Much Shagarath muttered and cursed. The young orc and his wargoth left Mokh’Ilzgûl as soon as they arrived. He turned to his tent and left all be, ignoring requests and questions of various kinds to contemplate. At the end of the day, when the air was already dark and the light of the moon shone upon the shamans visage, he left.

 

A guarding orc offered him a nod of acknowledgement as he saw him leave, asking: “Where are you going?” Shagarath answering calmly, his gaze set upon the calm waters of the nearby lake: “On a search… one for answers, young brother. Do not fear for I shan’t be gone long, but few cactus days.” With this he wandered on, the redskin frowning and shrugging as he saw the old one leave.

 

For few days the orc could be sighted around the druidic settlement, after which he left completely into the nothingness. Under Mountain and Over Sees his travel led him, in his search for tranquility, peace and connection.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two: Arrival

 

The harsh winds made him shiver, for the mountainous air felt cold as it cut into his skin. Cloaked the figure halted near a cave, the countless peaks of cold grey rock erected around him. He set up camp in this cavern, the internal side blocked off by rubble. After a day's time he made his temporary new home, and the crackling sound of burning twigs soon rose inside of the cave. Outside the storm persisted.

 

Few days he sat there, meditating and smoking his pipe. The fire kept low, burning on a few logs that he brought with him, and at times he went out to gather some more. It was in these days he spend his time visiting friends in the ancestral realm. To either re-unite or simply converse with them.

 

The third day he huffed, and stood up. Wielding a chisel and an engraved hammer, he walked up to the cold stone wall of the cave, the fire making the shadows of these tools dance on the wall. He spoke then, a chant, to which the scripture on the hammer started glowing as did some of the carved scars on his own hide. A deep red hue adorned both tool and arm in a connection to Leyd, making the wielding arm stronger. He heaved back the hammer and let it hit the chisel. In this manner he started to practise his carving. The walls of the cave decorated with everything from small shrines containing wax candles, to shamanic scripture or odd faces.

 

Content, after a week, he stared at this cave. From the bag he then took few jars and sacks, laying them in a circle around him.

 

Sand from the Northern Deserts

Rocks from the Cold Mountains to the East

Pebbles, smooth, from the Southern Riverbed

Fertile Dirt from the Halfling farmlands

Gravel from the Pathway Here

Ferrum Dust from the Dwarven Mines

Refined Emeralds from Dark Elven Craft

 

All items gathered beforehand, and kept for this very moment, it was here where the shaman started the familiar ritual, of chanting and visiting a spiritual realm.

Beset by this circle of Earthen totems, he smoked his pipe filled with his last bits of green. Swaying his head left to right he started to sing a chant, clapping rhythmically as he did so. It would not take long before he entered his trance, and his body sunk into a deep deep sleep.

 

 

 

Chapter Three: Old Meets Old

 

As Shagarath’s consciousness initially shifted into the Elemental Plane, empty blackness surrounded him until there was sensed in the core of his being a rumbling. After this came touch, and he felt the rumbling across his bones. Then came hearing, and the shaking of earth filled his ears. Soon after that he perceived smell, and breathed in the aroma of soil. Then followed taste as dust from the air landed on his tongue. Finally, he received his sight, and cast his vision upon a great stone face rising from the earth. Amid the sound of rock cracking, and dirt shifting, the spirit spoke in a slow, heavy, almost monotonous fashion, “Amat lat kultul, uruk?”

 

The shaman stood there, silently and reluctantly staring at this formation of rocks. After few moments he started to recognise a face. Holding his staff close to his body he contemplated and eventually answered: “‘Tis a good question, Spirit old of coldly stone.” he pauses, then continues. “For in fact I do not yet know, Why, I am here… the best I can do is say that I seek. And What I seek… I am also not quite sure about. Though I am sure… time shall tell.” He nods, concluding his answer.

 

The spirit soon answers the question himself, stating plainly, "Lat skaatdâlû Etosob. Lat nargzabgothûrzum ghaampob," the spirit rumbles out, grinding some boulders in its mouth as it ponders for a few moments, "Ghung lat nargzabgothûrzum ghaampob, lat krampgor Etosûr."

 

He nods, a breeze hitting him in the back and collides with the stone wall in front of him. “For few moons, I have educated myself to wield the tools of the ashen skinned.” he takes out two representations of a hammer and chisel. “Though not flawless, I deem it worthy enough to wield them in thy name. I presume the job you seek.. Is that of erecting a shrine.” He so readily assumes, followed by raising the two tools “Allow me to create a Monolith dedicated to you.” his head faces the ground as he makes his offer clear, hoping that he had pleased the spirit with this offer.

 

Etos issues forth an earthquake, before speaking “Yes, shaman. This will do well. Build for me this monolith for all to witness, and know the glory of Etos!” as the earth shakes, Shagarath’s senses would begin to shift back into the realm of mortals. As if from some great distance, he would hear Etos’ parting words, stating simply, “Return only once your task is complete, mortal.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so the shaman ventured back to the mortal realm, creating from a loose standing monolith of a stone: a shrine. The large piece of rock engraved with shamanic carvings and shapes alike. The grey totem stood mighty among the peaks, enveloped by cold winds. The process of creation taking up the last elven days of his stay in the mountains. After packing he sat down, cloaked and fenced off from the winds, in front of the shrine. Here he meditated to the spirit Etos. Requesting approval.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[OzYmandi 647]

((Hedge, get the **** outta your computer and go write a book. Now!))

[Anonymous_Potato 27]

((But...lots of people (including myself) use the computer to write, m8!))