The Birth Of Orc-Bone

[Etienne Harken 11]

The small, undescript hole in the ground seemed an unlikely home

for such an amazing event, but it was home to two things that disinguished it from other such holes. Namely, the overwhelmingly intricate altar that sat dead center, and the soot and flake covered anvil, casting a pointed shadow across a packed dirt wall. Two men were inside, one clad in robes, chanting, praying, writing, and everything else that goes with a ritual.

The other man was a bald elf, covered in bronze fittings, and redstone,

perpetually glowing a light green from the maic keeping him alive. He was at the anvil, carving stone, and folding materials into said stone, he bronzen, clunky hands always doing something. He had an entire body, almost a stone suit of armor, propped in the altar, being licked by the flames under it, and was carefully carving a head, making a perfect sized indentation for a piece of skull, the upper face, to fit in.

The work had been going on for months, whether it be the actual construction,

or hunting for manuals, and texts on how the process was done, it had been a tiresome task, and both men were ready to see the fruit of their labors. For the mockery of a man they had created was not just a play-thing, but a test, and a second chance. Their orcish friend, Gruol, had been killed trying to assassinate a warlord. He was a brash man, filled with anger, and hate. Yet, he had so much potential, and all of it became a red smear among smears, splatered on unforgiving sands by an unforgivivng race. But, the two loved him like a father, and had taken this mission upon themselves, bring him back by any means neccesary. This included all the work they had completed, along with exhuming his body, finding the essence of his soul the bearded, halfling man had gathered long ago, and hunting of objects dear to him.

The work was done, and the head was placed upon the rest of the body,

all of it folded with soulstones, and precious gems. The final step was to bind the golem to them, for there was no other way. The ritual was a simle one, slit their skin, and drip their blood onto a piece of enchanted parchment, then burn it with the golem. It all went off soundlessly, save or the cracklnig of the fire, and the golem sparked to life. The change wasn't immediate, his eye lit up slowly, and his clunky frame began to move ever so slightly, but Gruol was alive. After much calming down, the men were able to get words out of the golem, and their final inquisition was, "What do you wish to be called?" The golem looked up with gemstone eyes and said in a husky, unnatural tone, "Orc-Bone."

[Austin 697]

((I really enjoyed reading this, it will be interesting to RP I suppose

[steelersfan1221 300]

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