Krugzpaw stirs

[Blawharag 277]

The Cactus was quiet. Ever since Blawharag had gone and crawled into his secret room, the Cactus had remained silent. Many took the pilgrimage to the top, but none heard the Cactus congratulate them. The Cactus was silent. The moons came and changed, the sun rose and fell but still, the Cactus was silent. Then, one night at the height of the moon, the Cactus stirred. Krugzpaw awoke once more, and Blawharag crawled out from within it. He had communed with Krug, finished the three tasks set before him: Turn back the forest which had creeped into the desert, raise Krugzpaw, the pillar of power and meditate and fast for long days and nights. Finally Krug had spoken, in visions and metaphors, dreams and symbols. He saw a scorpion fighting the desert, growing scarred and battered. It returned to its den only to be turned away. The scorpion was alone, and so it was weak. The dead died alone, make a friend or join them. Slowly visions became more direct, and less metaphor. Soon enough Blawharag found his soul standing before the terrible avatar of Krug. A being so immense and awesome to behold that even the arrogant Blawharag was humbled before him, fear paralyzed the form which Blawharag's soul took, but clarity and understanding pierced his mind as Krug spoke:

"Bat Stargush, Zotan-lufatatar. Bat Krug. Lat, Kordatar-goth, Sharbtur-Stargush. Lat dobat, poshat bat. Bat bubhosh, lat nubhosh."

Blawharag managed a nod through his fear, not daring to question the word of Krug when otherwise Blawharag would have had the tongue and heart of any mortal that spoke those words to him.

"Lat timer. Lat timer."

Blawharag did not respond, he could not. He wanted to deny, but he couldn't. The fear ran deep, Krug was too great a sight to behold. He could not deny it.

"Lat TIMER. LAT TIMER."

Krug's anger and insistence burned Blawharag, his very soul caught flame and Blawharag cried out in pain, finally he nodded his head in submission, admitting the truth of Krug's words. Yet the fire did not cease, and Krug's anger lingered, his commands echoed across the spectral plane.

"Alag Ghaash ob Dru. Ghaash ob Dobat. Nub Ghaash ob Fukisham. Nub Ghaash ob Bubhosh."

Krug spoke what was, but not what must be. Yet even as Blawharag's soul burned and feared, his mind was clear. Krug did not need to speak what must be, if Blawharag could not have seen it, he was not worthy of even being burned by Krug's anger. Yet Blawharag did understand, Blawharag did know what must be:

He must become strong. He had never learned that greatest of lessons taught to all Orcs. He thought it was a lesson once learned, once acted on, and then passed on. Now he knew, now he understood. It was a lesson to be kept throughout life, never passed on, only shared. Everyday it must be built upon. The young were taught that everyday they should try to kill an enemy. Never this lesson though. This was a lesson that must be learned your self. It must be acted upon. Now Blawharag understood. Now Blawharag knew. Blawharag must become strong. Before Blawharag could serve, he must be strong.

The dead died alone, boy. Make a friend or join them.

[Acornlad 206]

((that was awesome...I am speechless))

[Blawharag 277]

((Rulg))

[_pok_ 1768]

((Epic, 'Nuff said.))

[Lexperiments 18]

The Elder shaman awakes from his dreams, feeling like something incredibly skahin' awesome just happens. He wonders what.

((OOC: Otherwise, badass. SO badass.))

[Danny 2232]

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