A prophecy of Grizh and Purity

[Tk4522 295]

[!] A frigid wind swept through the empty, moon lit streets of the Iron Ugz. At this time of night, many were sheltered from the pitiless gale within their homes. As the spirits of wind played their heatless games, one human kneeled before an altar, wrought of brilliant quartz and arum. Within his right hand, he held a stone that shown with ethereal radiance. He had placed many offerings on this shrine to Zkorthuz, including a recently forged ingot of pure arum, and a bottle of heavily distilled water among others. This was Brawly’s nightly ritual.

 

     As Brawly prostrated himself before the pristine altar he felt a pull at his right hand, as if the light stone within it wished to lead him. Its light burst forth, enveloping the man’s vision until it was nothing but pure white. The light eventually faded, revealing a truly horrific sight. The ground lay somewhere beneath an inch of blood. The crimson liquid danced and rippled beneath his feet as he stood. His front was covered in the crimson ichor, its warmth gradually fading as it ran down his form and through his clothing, gradually returning to the pool.

 

     With each step Brawly took forward, he seemed to sink further and further into the sanguineous ocean. At the point where it reached his waist, he beheld a semi-circle of Orcs, those he had come to know as his brothers and sisters. Brawly approached one of them with caution as he could not identify the individual. As he drew near, it became apparent that the orc was muttering a phrase. It was familiar to him…

 

“Grizh tu flow… Grizh tu peep…” 

 

     The whispers of this individual repeated in an endless loop. Brawly attempted to join the orc in their chanting, but as his mouth perched to form the first syllables, he was interrupted by a thundering shout.

 

“Bruddahz, Grizh ez truth, GRIZH zhowz da wey, GRIZH TU HAV GRIZH TU PEEP.”

 

      This was met with riotous applause as the crowd repeated the phrase with a mirrored fervor.

 

      Brawly’s vision shifted as he ventured to ascertain where the initial cry had sounded, and his eyes discerned the countenance of an altar wrought of carved bone and rendered flesh. Before this altar stood a hulking figure, adorned in the garb of the Krughai. Within his hand, an ossein dagger hewn to a razor-sharp edge. This sight was familiar, however, something seemed off.

 

      Instead of the rites he was used to, Brawly witnessed something unfamiliar. The Armored orc drove the dagger into an amorphous mass of flesh. The ground beneath his feet heaved as the figure reached his hand into the incision. The tremors intensified as the figure revealed to the congregation the object within his grasp… a heart, still beating and dripping with vitriol. The Orc lifted the organ to the ashen black sky in bloody victory.

 

      Brawly’s ire was drawn away from this gruesome scene by an aberrant gleam that incurred into his vision from somewhere beneath his field of vision. He looked down and spotted the gleam within his grasp, his light stone. However, the incandescent splendor it gave forth was weakening by the second. It pulsed in a counter beat to that of the heart. Brawly extended his fingers so that they would no longer obstruct the glow from the stone which now rested within his palm.

 

     As the light dimmed, Brawly could now distinguish his own visage reflected within the blood. Within its hand was not a light stone, but a quietus crystal that seemed to be growing in strength, its core alight with an eerie pink glimmer. There was no other difference between Brawly and his doppelganger aside from on detail. As Brawly held a serious expression on his face, the mirror image was twisted into a mirthful smile.

 

      As the light finally died, Brawly awoke before the altar he had constructed. His surroundings were familiar and offered respite from his vision. Questions rushed through his mind as Brawly lifted himself from his prostration,

 

What did it mean?

 

Was this a prophesy of things to come… a representation of times to come?

 

Was there anything that could or should be done?

 

All went unanswered as the only sounds that filled the home were that of the unrelenting squall that raged outside.

 

      

[deleted111 93]

A lone orc beneath the same stark moonlight, in those bitter winds, ruminated upon his faith. The uruk subscribed to no belief but his own; his conviction rooted deep in the Immortal Spirits whose domain drew as far as the natural, material and abstract realms. Nevertheless, no doubt nor disbelief were given to the merits of his brothers' beliefs- The Blood Faith, or The Great Ancestors.

 

It was The Blood Faith's maxim that he considered; “Grizh tu flow… Grizh tu peep…” He could assign no coincidence to the advent of the Haruspex practice and the interpretation of The Blood Faith. Grizh must flow, for the Haruspex to show; Grizh will be seen, for the blind to see. Haruspex; the practice of the Prophet, who shall deliver to all the incontrovertible recognition of the Great Spirits.

 

The young Uruk were no Prophet; this were not his duty. The zealous brother were a champion of the Spirits; his duty were to ensure the Prophets' duty; to protect and amplify the realm of the Spirit.

 

((Great writing, love to see this kind of Spirit rp))

[Waibiao 372]

Spoiler

--Post Narration--

Adding this as an unrelated supplement to the well-worded story, listen at your leisure.