Returning to the Source

[Smaw 2376]

Returning to the Source

< -Part 1 ->
 

 

In an odd twist of fate he had fallen into the hands of an Elf, carried far and wide in clandestine quarters. At first it seemed fitting that one so dedicated to knowledge should possess him. Yet, as time progressed he saw his situation worsen, and he could not help but lament on his neglected potential. 

 

For he saw not the outside world, nor often revealed his knowledge to those in close proximity. Instead, his owner saw it fit to hide him from the world, retaining his power in a selfish clutch. He remained stuffed into an aging leather bag, blanketed in dust and shadow as he lay idle, caged by his scholarly captor.

 

Indeed, the life of a tome was not all that it had been promised to be. It was time to return home.

 

 

 < - Oolra, the Tome of Ixli - >

 

As he shuffled against the leather walls that had trapped him for so long, a voice broke out into the farthest reaches of his mind, shattering any final semblance of comfort that he felt in his core.

 

"Ibal akesh a'lan."  It spoke, a sinister whisper scratching at his mind as he awoke in a newfound passion. His true master had called to him, and as he took heed he began to feel his form loosen. The tome that he had come to occupy slowly began to disperse into fragmented blobs of energy, and soon he had completely dematerialised, transported into a searing wind that scorched against the flesh he had not felt for a forgotten period. 

 

The light blinded him at first in an orange blur, and all he could feel was the burning sensation of sand that whipped against his bare legs and arms. As he rose his fingers to reach his face, the jangling of metal pierced the air, and a smile broke out upon him as his eyes became fixated on his arms.

 

His skin was a smooth, chestnut brown, and the copious rings of golden jewelry cascaded back toward his wrist as he lowered his arm. As he became more accustomed to the light, he took note of the crimson silk that adorned his torso in a horizontal fashion, and reached up to prong his finger against the sharp point of the horn that sat comfortably upon his shoulder. 

 

"At last..." He remarked in a sigh of relief, raising his hand to rub his bald head as he looked out upon the horizon, his visage cracking into a sinister smile.

 

 

As he looked onward he saw an endless expanse of sand that stretched onward in an intimidating display of the realms size, and as his focus flowed onward he caught sight of two rocky pillars protruding from the cracked earth. Sat around them were men huddled within the shadows, lurching back and forth as they nattered to themselves. They offered the same complexion as the man, and were draped in ragged robes that left much to be desired. Between them an Ox stood, doing its best to maintain the weighted items that were sprawled over its back. It seemed to be grazing on what little patch of grass presented itself in this wasteland.

 

The man noticed the familiarity of the Ox, and pressed onward toward its position. The hunched men around him took no heed to his arrival, and continued to rock back and forth in obvious displays of madness as he climbed on top of the beast. He inhaled deeply as he relieved his inner tension once more, offering a nod and a smirk to the maddened men around him as he took off on his journey along the sands.

 

For a time, very little offered itself in the way of distractions. The scorching heat clung to his body as he bobbed upon the back of the Ox, the occasional gust of grainy wind breaking the rhythmic pattern of hooves sinking into sand. And before long another set of pillars presented themselves upon the horizon, glazed by the dancing rays of sunlight that bounced upon the floor. Yet these rocky monoliths contained swirling patterns, that invoked a sense of excitement within the man as he spurred the Ox onward in a hastened progression.

 

 

 

 

The man hopped from the sweating beast as they centered between the graphic rock, and his copious jewelry jangled in the silence, making his presence known to any lingering around the region. It was not long before his noise was interrupted by another voice, and soon a figure emerged from beneath one of the rocks.

 

"About time..."  The stranger said, who offered a remarkable similarity to the man beside the Ox. He had the same colouration, with similar robes of blood red, and was adorned in golden jewels; yet his were mostly pierced into his face and ears; other than his additional loincloth, he was otherwise bare of anything significant.  He rose his hand as he pointed to the man. "Oolra, you have been gone for too long."  He added, a smile forming on his otherwise decorated visage.

 

Oolra broke out into a similar expression of happiness as he slapped the Ox, opening out his hands in greeting. "Imbeke, I would not be able to tell you from this Ox without that robe." He remarked in a loud chortle, and Imbeke soon laughed alongside him as the pair approached one another in greeting, embracing for a moment as they slapped each others backs, before drawing back once again.

 

"Did you get it done?" Imbeke asked, throwing his falling robe back over his shoulder. Oolra responded with rolled shoulders as he released a sigh.

"To some degree."

 

 

< - Imbeke, the Torch of Ixli - >

"What happened?" Imbeke asked, his expression becoming more serious as the tone of the region began to lose its light humour.

 

"It's not ve-" He said, before being interrupted. A stark voice had broken out as a pale figure suddenly materialised, standing on top of the Ox.

"Ya' late."  The figure said as its appearance became more prominent. It was a man of milky flesh, with draping hair that offered little contrast to the orange horizon, and protruding horns that erupted from his forehead. He had a slender form, and seemed only to be dressed in a crimson loincloth and the occasional jewelry. "That means I gotta' kill this thing." He said as he opened out his arms, the pair offering no response as they watched in apparent intimidation.

 

The horned man jumped upward, before crashing his legs into the back of the beast. With a horrendous crack the Ox fell onto the floor and the man tumbled beside it. He scrambled along the floor in a moment of embarrassment as clouds of sand began to slowly drift into the air. Oolra and Imbeke offered each other a short lived smirk as the figure rose to his feet brushing off the sand as he mumbled.

 

"Always a pleasure, Imbramiik." Imbeke remarked as Oolra crossed his arms in a disgruntled expression, clearly having just recognised what had happened to his companion.

 

< - Imbramiik, the Eye of Ixli - >

 

"Really?" Oolra said, huffing as he pointed to the beast that was now whining upon the floor. "I liked that."

 

Imbramiik cleared his throat, flushing out his final sense of embarrassment as he pointed to the both of them. "It ain't important."  He said, in an almost whispering tone. "No time. Ixli is waitin'. N-no time. Come on." He added, before rushing off behind the larger of the pillars. As the pair followed, Oolra took a final glance upon his Ox, shaking his head as they approached the draping crimson entrance.

 

As they entered the cavernous area, the interior presented itself along with a strong swathe of incense. The walls were draped in red silk, and a horrible aura was felt within the room. All who entered it were overwhelmed with a sense of inner discord. A sinister presence loomed within the walls, and watched intently at all who sat within. It seemed a number of figures were knelt upon the floor, and before them at the back of the room, a draped figured stood proudly, its arms extended to near the width of the enormous horns that protruded from its head. Oolra looked toward Imbeke with concern as the two began to kneel down in a languid movement, and Imbramiik soon followed.

 

< - Ixli, the Immortal Spirit of Forbidden Knowledge in his least Maddening Form - >

 

"Remember why you are here, disciples." The figure spoke, its monotonous tone offering little in the way of intrigue, yet as it spoke a power seemed to emanate from its core that could not be compared across the realm. "You are here to earn your sanity, and you have been failing me."  Suddenly, Oolra broke out in a burst of energy, standing and outstretching his arms as he began to scream in an uncontrollable expression. Yet no sound escaped his mouth, and all around him watched in fear and anticipation.

 

"Do not falter like Oolra. He has much to learn."  The voice spoke, before Oolra began to dematerialise before the crowd.

-------------------------------------------
 

 

 

Kulgarok's cursed form rose above the horizon, for his pastime of ambling through the deserts had become morning more than a tired gruel of limping and wheezing. He sought to clear his mind of Krugmar, and was only filled with pain and discomfort. In this aimless wandering, the orc would finally make a moment to rest. His hands dig deep into the sand, wiping away the blood had stained them. The flashbacks -- visions, plagued him with sensations that weren't truly there.

 

With shut eyes, he revisited them, of when his stone, his earth had pierced flesh, and his hunt for Truth had become one for dissenters. Alone, here, beyond the orcs, and beyond the madness that lay within him. The Orc sought to rest for a moment to clear his mind, and so he sat beyond the mesas and San'Torr, where the deserts brought back visions of his birth. Yet the rest that Kulgarok so desperately sought was quickly interrupted as a horrendous voice began to echoe within his mind, pulling from all corners of his consciousness. 

 

"Ibal akesh a'lan."

 

Kulgarok's form rattles for a moment, the baubles and beads rattling as his mind is quartered and tugged upon by a hideous voice.  A low rumble escapes from his mouth as the sand begins to shake and tremble. "Whu goes beforeh me?!"

 

"Inzig Oolra untek makuzig." The voice said, as it seemed to split into a thousand chattering voices that all ushered the same whispering sentence.

 

"Amirz-laam Mal-lat?!"  The Orc's body raised,  drawing forth blackened sand and earth from beneath him, particles sticking to his blackened flesh as his blood lust and rage subsiding as control and confusion seeps in. The voice that emanated within his mind began to cackle, and before long it was a more physical sound that reverberated around his ears. Before him, a pulsating crimson energy began to materialise, cackling in a manic laughter as Kulgarok would heard both the voices in his head and in the mortal realm working in tandem.

 

The physical energy began to twist and distort as it became smaller and smaller, before the blinding light that pulsated from the energy began to settle. As it did, a book fell onto the floor, blowing up a cloud of dust.

 

- (Kulgarok's emotes and speech written by DivineJustice)

[Daisy 9739]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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