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[Spirits] BLOOD OFFERING


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BLOOD OFFERING

 

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The wroth Uruk stood among the carnage of bloodlust. Thick, red blood painted the forest’s verdant grass and spattered the great oaks. Carcasses littered the clearing. The doe, the hog, the wolf and the bear. All were blood spilt fresh. The decapitated head of the bear were donned by the Uruk that stood before the blazing pyre. Beneath the pale moonlight, to the crack and pop of wood and coal, he danced to the rhythm of incanting cries. He bellowed invitations to the Spirits. Wooden instruments beat a profound song, calling upon ancestral kin. Amidst the song and dance that appraised the Spirits, the Uruk heaved fistfuls of some strange cap, some fungi found deep in the forest’s recesses. By one he made sacrifice. 

 

To Leyd he burnt the bear, for the blood invites indomitable strength.  For his people, he cried out a prayer, calling for the blessing of force and vigour. He howled and screeched to the skies and spilt his blood with a crude knife. 

 

To Freygoth, he sacrificed the doe, for the flesh offers surfeit. He invoked the forest mother and called for bounty and fertility. In the esoteric cries and strange dance, he pledged guard to her domain, and made promise to serve the woodland against misguided kin. 

 

To Kotrestruu, he offered the wolf, whose spirit is of the pack. He called upon history and asked to the flames a blessing of remembrance. His kin should recall their past tribulations. Many times before they'd been pawns in the contest of Spirits, victim to the deceit of wicked spirits. He prayed that his brothers may remember their history, so they need not make the same mistakes.

 

 

In the dark of night, between twisting trees that surrounded the clearing, the Uruk saw obscured faces, glowing eyes, darting forms.  In the bright and vigorous flame, he had almost seen the faint guise of a black eye, watching. He saw some many presences have come to his calling that dare not reveal themselves. Till the sun rose, he danced his strange dance, and sung the songs of Spirits. 

 

Dawn broke with modest light, as the pyre dulled. Small flames danced as the Uruk did, and one sacrifice remained, its blood dried crimson. “Spirit of Judgement.” He cried out, emboldened by the rising sun, “Spirit of Truth. Spirit of Fear. Spirit of Knowledge.” The Uruk dare not invoke it’s name, yet in great risk called the Spirit for this show. He danced until the flames were mere embers and threw the hog sacrifice on the pile of coals and bones. This body did not burn, for there were no flames, but sizzled lightly on the hot remains. “Latz misguide mi people,” he screamed “Latz fuul mi bruddahs, agh lead dem againzt dah Spiritz, dah way, dah forezt.” He spat upon the hog. “Latz dealz am devlizh, latz promizez am falze, latz truth am liez.” The bloody uruk vowed against the dark spirit and left the carcass in the clearing; to become rotten, and reclaimed by nature.

 

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Spoiler

My uruk character believes the orcs are misguided in their crusade against the forest and spirits by Ixli. Just trying some crude spiritualism rp

 

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