Consulting An Elder

[_Jandy_ 3519]

Spoiler

 

There within The Shaman Lodge sat a group who puffed from a pipe of green, which was duly dubbed “Krug’s Kief”, as it passed around the group. The men sat in their heavy war armor, eager to consult the spirits for their sage guidance on the matter of Rex Rue’Lur’s newfangled crusade. At the head of the group of five was the former Targoth, Grothzark’Dom, who was taught the art of shamanic lutaumancy by the Motsham himself. To his right was his newfound clansmate, a blue uruk named Rhak’Dom. Beside the two Doms was the honorable human hero Hacket Hemoss himself, an outsider but a friend to the urukhim at large. Flanking the human was a goblin raised in Haensetti gutters, Dimitri, who wore a thick hat which was considered strange to the desert dwellers. Lastly sat a remarkably young but eager uruk who was called Moktar the Clanless. 

 

The ritual proceeded. It included rocking back and forth, indulging in the effects of the cured green, low and then loud chanting and hollering, and an eagerness to bare witness to the Stargush’Stroh - Krug’s greatest gift to the urukhim, their paradisal afterlife.

 

As the ritual concluded the band of mortal warriors slowly awakened within a heavy boscage which was cooled by the night air. A staunch comparison to the desert that they were in just moments ago, these verdant wilds offered tall grasses for the men to duck beneath as they slowly awoke. The buzzing of insects filled the air as the moon alone lit their surroundings. The insects came to an unheralded silence for a heartbeat before a wounded jabbernack broke through the treeline and collapsed before the men, who looked to find that their soul had not carried their many armaments into this new plane.

 

The lizard beast, an ancient symbol of Mogroka’s War Nation, oozed ruby blood across the foliage. The red pierced the veil of night as it glared across misty unkempt blades of grass. The thick hide of the creature had been slashed deeply at the throat and had bite marks sunk into its rear haunches. Those gathered mortals looked at the fell beast, a few curious and a few slowly pacing back. It was the young Moktar who spoke up “It is not our kill to pillage..”
 

A roar was suppressed by the hunter, vibrating deep within the throat. The beast remained concealed within the treeline as the men looked towards it. Only the lunar reflection upon a pair of beady black eyes suggested the size of their imminent foe. “Retreat.” barked the lutauman who had brought them here. They backed away slowly at first until the beast made it’s move. A form of dire-bear with pitch black fur lunged forth, seizing upon the bested jabbernak. A swipe of its paw opened up the intestines of the massive lizard which filled the air with the smell of monstrous bile. 

 

The four orks and a human blitzed to the opposite treeline. They skidded to a stop as they found three orcs staring down upon them. A short goblin tracker who wore wolf paws upon the back of his hands. A heavy set uruk who carried an immense amount of provisions, armaments, and supplies. And lastly, clearly the leader of the trio, was a muscularly built and heavily scarred greenskinned uruk who wore a slate cowl. The shadows of the cowl, which should have displayed eyes, shifted past the new quintet and focused upon the two beasts in the clearing. A wide hand pointed towards the ravaging bear as the ancestral spirit declared it “Muruk’Thaguzg.” He took a long breath before he turned towards the uruk who carried his hunting tools. He pointed to a wide collection of handaxes that rested against the man’s left ribcage. 

 

Hurriedly the uruk dispensed two handaxes to each of the men in attendance. Dimitri spun the unfamiliar weapons in his hands as he turned back towards the feasting beast. The cowled ancestral turned back and roared from the depths of his stomach “VOTAAAAAAR!” He led the blitz forwards as eight fighters surged forth. His axe was the first to find purchase. The beast aimed to swat against him and the blade of the tomahawk buried deeply into the leathery pads. Blood sprayed across the elder’s cowl, turning the worn blue-grey into a sopping wet red. 

 

There was a very short struggle as the predator attempted to squash the uruk who first met it. Though the beats was ultimately doomed. It did not retreat as the storm of blades began to hack into it. Spine, skull, joints, throat, and even the nethery bits found axeheads buried and then used as an entry point to tear open much larger wounds. The blood washed elder sat upon the butchery like a throne, a broad grin across his face. He removed his cowl to wash it clean.

The Lutauman stepped forth, kneeling before the spirit perhaps in reverence but his belabored breaths suggested it was simply to recover from the exertion of the brawl. “Craotor.” The Dom declared, recognizing the famed ancestral “We mortals come forth in search for blessing before the War Nation marches.”

 

The spirit leaned forth, resting elbows on his knees as he seemed truly interested in the matter “Why do you march?”

 

The shaman, fool as he was, gave the propagandized answer to the question “We must cleanse the jungle. We-”

 

The spirit cut him off, donning his washed cowl once more. “The urukhim do not care for the jungles. Speak rightly- why do you march?” The grey skinned Dom turned to his cohorts for help to answer.

 

Dimitri the goblin spoke up first “For glory!”

 

Then the human “I have joined to help the allies who I am sworn to.”

 

And Grothzark attempted another answer “We follow the will of our Rex.”

 

Moktar chimed in “Honor’s sake.”

 

Craotor’Lur offered a nod to this, now pleased. “Honor. Kinship. Loyalty. It is a war the Ilzgul favor. Go boldly and proclaim it so. Be with valor and honor will not forsake you.” 

 

The words brought solace to those who sought such validation. The Lutauman scanned over the other mortals whom he could tell would sit here to commune with the ancient Lur for years if they could. But they could not - rather they ought not. ~

 

Time within the Stargush’Stroh must be earned and it was time that they returned to the domain of mortality so that they could do so.

Spoiler

thanks to the select guys who turned out for this bit of shaman rp. it was short and sweet, definitely a memorable spirit walk. 💖

 

[Rig 17580]

Rhak’Dom is reinvigorated by the trip into the Spirit Realm and honed his warblade in preparation.