Massacre! | Raguk Raid Sagas

[Guzr 2050]

RAGUK RAID SAGAS: ENTRY I

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| MASSACRE! |

 

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The following piece of literary work would make it’s rounds across the Orcish community, seemingly written by a witness of the massacre that occurred.

 

“A scream and a bang; a cold chill crawling up Matumakh’Raguk’s spine as he bashed the door down. Their warband had traveled to the land of murderers to enact vengeance, and their goal stood infront of them. They had entered The Eternal Uzg via the following climb:

 

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Despite such a path, they entered nonetheless. Now, they stood inside a Lur blarg; weapons drawn as they commenced their slaughter. Oronak’Raguk, Skullcrusha’Raguk, Ugrad’Lur. These were the names of those accompanying him as they bashed and hacked their way through the vile abode.

 

As Matumakh’Raguk drove the pommel of his warblade deep into a Lur’s skull, it tearing his victim’s brain, he heard Kretz’Ox pleas for peace. For a moment, he eyed the lifeless body drop to the cold floor, thumping as he thought to himself: Are these actions regretful? Should I show remorse? 

 

Alas, the uruk quickly remembered he was killing weakling and dishonorable vermin, felt no regret,  and continued on with his slaughter; trophying the head from his kill’s shoulders. Soon, after his warband too took their vengeance upon the Lurs, they returned to the Stone Basilisk fort to drink and party. Surely Enrohk had blessed their raid, for they lost no warriors.

This was a good day for Raguk, a good day for war.”

 

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“ANG GUND GRIISH.”

[Hephaestus 1326]

       ”Mirdautas vras, latz zonzaf’ Leyd.” Cardinal Grishnaakh’Raguk boasted, in his true, ancient speak. Either gauntlets seemed to draw into each other, as though a magnetism struggling in the midst of them, in slowed, patient claps resonating a horrid thumping across each corner of the ornate skull that hung itself atop the Raguks’ own fort, lay lazy in its own perpetual slumber. A particular eeriness rung about, enclosed within the mouth of the head, taking upon itself the semblance of a cavern, in appearance, accompanying the leisurely claps, thus either two eyes of Grishnaakh scanning across the landscape presented below.

       ”Mabaj bot ob armauk, so it is true, and has come to me, in these final few moments of our victory.” He continued about, in boasts and laments, underlying a similar tongue. “Hozhly done, wayward sons. Hozhly done.”

[Mirtok 2853]

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

 

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