The Winds Blow | Orc Recruitment

[Jihnyny 5233]

 

The Winds Blow

“Be weary child, the winds blow, the wind whispers of change;
heed its voice! It carries both the storm that clears, and the seeds of renewal. . . ”

 

OOC:

 

Spoiler

 

Hello! Jihnyny here,

 

This is a group that is meant to be more broad in a cultural aspect for Orcs. One that is meant to be formed through both roleplay and time, and to feel less isolated for both new players and experienced ones. It takes inspiration from IRL influences, as well as some that have developed through the recent year(s).

Such as the growing relationship with Malch, templarism and the renewing of KRUG, the disliking of blah and clan system and the broadening of shamanism toward other races. Its aesthetic is meant to be more tribal, featuring a love for nature and ancestralism. A broader form of “shamanism”, allowing more magics and their users to be viewed as oracles or mystics for the orcish people.

If you’re interested in giving this group a go, having a chance to shape it and to be a major part of it OR have any questions, here's the discord;

https://discord.gg/PeUsj3J8PW

 

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The tranquility of the tall, yet thin grass of the wild lands catch your attention. Dirt is set underneath your fingernails, war-paint atop your sun-baked skin. Your ear rings with a sudden thunder, and your eyes, blood-shot, take direction over the nearing hill. The roars of the beasts and calls of your hunting companions break your lack of focus, deeming you to take action.

 

You fall into a sprint. The blades of grass whip against your thick skin. Your knees, despite feeling the tension of the marathon, lead you to the higher ground. The shadow of green shifts into the view of the blue sky, and the sun blinds you in an eruption of light. 

 

“Badump, badump. . . badump”

 

The core of your soul, your heart, recovered faster than your eyes. It skipped a beat. It knows of its presence and surroundings, it knows it is soon to be doomed. Your sight returns, and one of the beasts, colour of earth and shape of mountain, charges into you. Your feet dig into the dirt. Its horn strikes into your shoulder, tearing it apart. You take a sharp inhale, and then are thrown across the wild lands. 

 

“Badumpabadump, badumpabadump badumpabadump”

 

It began to race. You felt no pain, not yet. You only felt shock, terrified and unable to move. As if all the power you held, simply slipped from your grasp. You inhaled, and then you cried. The pain was unbearable, like a spear having just poked in between your lungs. You cry out again, but no word could slip. Only an agonising wheeze. 

 

“Badump. . . badump. . . badump. . .”

 

Your tongue flicked between your tusks. It was time, and you knew. Your cries felt silent, and you resulted in prayer. Blessing the name of KRUG, in hope of returning to his open arms. You stared toward the sky, it was blue and radiant; clouds none. In your last moments you felt scared and in pain. But you did not feel alone. You knew, you knew that the ancestors would take the step alongside you, and you knew that your companions would join you in time. 

 

“Badump. . . badump. . .” 

 

Your vision began to fade, but you did not take notice. Your thoughts began to slur and panic at the same time, and your breath began to tremble. The spear in your grasp was an item you no longer felt, an item that was once an extension of your body, was now left limp. 

 

“Badump. . . . . . . .” 

 

You took your last breath and opened your eyes, to see an Uruk of the greatest size affront of you. 

 

“Welcome, child.” 

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e
 

 

[BurberLord123 375]

The Sandsworn Zealot would look forward

'Bub'hozh, deh honured Krugz iz returnd, purhabz deh zavanaz wil repopulat oncr mur wid deh honured urkim'

+1 very cool!

[sam33497 7356]