Orcish folk-lore.

[PraiseTheLord 868]

STORIES OF OLD

 

 

Thread's Purpose:

For  many years Orcish roleplayers have been telling stories about tales of Krug and his offspring. However, this kind of rp has died down recently.  All orcish kubs bore of Krug and Iblees' conflict.

This thread was made for exactly that purpose. 

This is here so any player that wishes to tell a story, can refer to already made-ones that would interest others. 

Rules:

Posts such as these have been made in the past, yet commonly used as Memes. Stories such as 'The great soda spirit' does not interest the Orcish playerbase at this moment,

as we hope to provide serious and meaningful roleplay.

 

I. Do not post memes. All meme-stories will be removed by a FM.

II. Please put effort into the stories you choose to provide.
III. Have fun.

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[PraiseTheLord 868]

|  Story of Stories  |

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Long, long ago, when the scorching deserts of Ramakhet was home to various types of death, The mighty kin of Krug stayed.

With no history or stories, the orcish brutes ran wild and pledged themselves to honourable killing.

It was all they could do, after all. 

Bored out of their bloodlust minds, Rax yelled at one of his mates.

"Eyy, Lat will obey th' firstborn of KRUG! Me, RAX! Tell the kubs stories of ME, they need stories!"

But Ka'oa was a simple Fe-Uruk. She tended to herself and her family, considering herself priveliged to be the mate of Rax.

She did not know any stories, as she never spoke to her brothers and sisters. 

 

But her tribe was all the same, not possessing any stories to tell or listen. All dismaying her, she decided to seek out a shaman.

Far into the Oasis, Graukom'Yar stayed. He was a farseer of great power. 

"What do lat want, young Fe-Uruk? Begone!" He roared, frustrated with a failed ritual he had done earlier the day.

"Please, Graukom'Yar! Mi seek knowledge, please!" Ka'oa pleaded loudly, her words reaching many a Straadoth's ear.

"Very well, youngie. Mi will take lat to th' immortal plane, plead there." 

 

Upon arrival in the Immortal realm, Ka'oa decided to venture. Her eyes wandered from lesser to greater spirits. 

After a time, she spotted a berserker slaughtering many a enemy. She pleaded once again;

"Please, Enrohk! Mi seek knowledge, please!"

"Nub ghashanuz! Kraat! Kraat!" The berserker roared in fury, before lopping more heads off.

 

Ka'oa ventured on, seeking more spirits to speak to. 

Stumbling upon a young woman made entirely from bronze, she pleaded once again.

"Please, Vulka! Mi seek knowledge, please!" But Vulka was always prepared, yet always preparing. 

"Nub ghashanuz. Kraat! Kraat." Vulka did not bother to look up from the table.

 

Once again, Ka'oa ventured on, seeking stories. 

Her eyes caught a half-wolf-half-stag creature stalking her.  It's bloodied snout sending a message that it had hunted before.

"Please, Votar! Mi seek knowledge, please!"

"Nub ghashanuz. Kraat! Kraat!" It howled and ran after Ka'oa.

 

Ko'oa ran for days, yet she was saved. A loud clicking noise scared Votar away. 

Infront of her stood an aged uruk, wearing ragged clothes and aged shoes. 

In his hands was a walking stick. 

He had traveled far, and knew many words.

"Hello, child. What do you seek?" 

"Stories to tell mi kubs, oh wise Ghorza!"

"Very well then, sistah. Mi will take lat to Theruz." 

 

They climbed ontop of a boat, and the wind flowed in their favour that day. 

Ka'oa saw many sights her eyes have not laid upon before.

The gates of Tor, the Gundâr Broshan, Dâlzob Hûrûrz Mazauk and Tauob Bûbhosh Hoital.

After weeks on the boat, she saw a large library, where endless books floated and aged uruks smoked green.

Right at the entrance of the library, a young man was rushing around and offering drinks and green to all.

Out of the way, an old man stood, his hands entrailed over a large book. The words 'blah' written on it.

 

"Please, Theruz! Mi seek knowledge, Please!"

"Of course, kub. Take this, if lat listen to it stories spout out." It was a metal tusk, with various orcish inscriptions

making waves and clouds. 

 

As Ko'ao returned to Sanjezal, she saw only one more image from The spirits, an entling sprouting from the ground.

She started around the bonfire;

"Long, long ago..."

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Heavily inspired by the Zulu Folk-tale;

'Where stories came from.'

 

 

[Chorale__ 2147]

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.