The Bull's Peak

[Vilebranch 410]

Spoiler

 

 

Ugluk is the third son of Gorkil. His name was once shouted across the desert with unyielding ferocity. Now his name is all but forgotten.

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Stargush'Stro

It didn't take long for Skörkon and Falum'Lur to stumble upon the magnificent beast. The bull towered over them like the silhouette of a statue to some divine bovine god. It's almost dreamlike form stretched it's neck to the grass, grazing upon the yellow needles which shot out of the savanna's soil. The scene was picturesque in it's brilliance, with vivid yellows and oranges covering the area in a permanent sunset. Skörkon stopped in his tracks for just a moment to gaze upon the majestic creature. However, the bull spotted them and began to sprint away. It's cloven feet thundered across the savanna. Falum, however, kept sprinting after the imposing creature.

 

"Keep up, brother. These spirits are tricky to follow!"

 

Skörkon's massive legs sprinted after Falum, hitting the ground like hollowed logs. The two chase after the bull, their forms blurred and drifting as they run. It goes without saying that the laws which normally apply in Atlas no longer apply in the realm of spirits.

As the two chased the bull, their surroundings quickly changed. From an expansive savanna, to an endless desert, to a shifting canyon and finally to the highest peak among the clouds. Falum stopped as the bull sprinted off of the cliff, dissipating into a heavy trail of smoke.

 

"This place looks familiar.. He is near."

 

"Where do we go from here?"

 

Falum pointed to a nearby opening among the rocks. A faint white glow emanated from the darkness of the cave. As they entered, the smooth, red stone warped into the coarse sandstone of the desert. The cave was kept intact by several massive sandstone pillars. The walls were covered in unintelligible hieroglyphs and an imposing throne sat at the end of the chamber. A faint white silhouette of an orc floated in front of one of the walls, staring intently at the hieroglyphs.

 

"Drokon. It's been some time."

 

Drokon's form shifted away from the wall, his eyes fixed on Skörkon. The spirit floated across the chamber without shape towards the young orcs.

 

"I must thank you for bringing Skörkon here, old friend. I did not expect anyone to visit me here."

 

"It is not a problem. I must concentrate or I may pass out. Skörkon, ask what you wished to ask."

 

Skörkon closed his eyes, attempting to recall what it was he intended to ask. He then raised his gaze to Drokon's shadowy figure, who had since drifted towards him.

 

"I wish I could have met you in better times, Drokon. My father said many great things about you. But in truth, I lay without purpose. My father's clan is all but dead and I do not know what to do."

 

The spirit placed it's hand upon Skorkon's scarred shoulder. A faint outline of the bull skull which once resonated from the scars on his skin all that remained.

 

"Ugluk has been dwindling for a long time, my brother. Do what you think is right for the clan, but I disbanded the clan after I was the last of my kind."

 

"But what is right? Am I to just allow the world to forget my ancestors, my clan? I just do not know. There are some who should be forgotten, like Moreg. But those who did not fail and preserved Ugluk have me and the future generation to rely on."

 

Drokon floated away, his spectral hand stroking his chin. He loomed there some time, contemplating Skörkon's words. The young orc's eyes drifted to the sandstone flooring.

 

"Not everyone is to be remembered forever, Skörkon. That's why it's easier to speak with me than with Lur or Gorkil, or even Pok. It's the Tale you pass on which keeps you close to the Mortal realm. It is the legacy you wish to leave."

 

Drokon drew nearer to the young Ugluk once more, stony-eyed and tired. Skörkon pushed his face up to meet him, staring the aged spirit fiercely

 

"Then that is what I shall start with. I will make my name remembered. I will start with ensuring that the names of the clans and legacies that are still around are remembered."

 

"Do what you must and live a long and prosperous life, brother. My time may be over but you are still to reach your prime."

 

Drokon loomed over to his sandstone throne, placing a hand on it's arm. Falum spoke up, his usual wearisome appearance seeming even more withered and frail.

 

"Our time is up. We must leave."

 

 

[osumanduas 1442]

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.