From the north gate.

[Goldrim 1422]

Gromgok wobbles about as his fat belly starts to show, he slowly wanders up to Mogroka in a slow pace as sand shifts under his feet, he narrows his eyes and takes a closer look at his father as he looks seemingly older and more worn out, his eyes quickly lower towards his tummy as he realizes that due to his disappearance Gromgok had befallen in a deep depression, he looks back at his father with bags under his eyes as he doesn't know how to greet him, in a flurry of anger and happiness he stands dully in his place, opening his gaping mouth as he simply lets out a obnoxious burp.

[_pok_ 1768]

Yawns and falls asleep next to the Rex Palace from where he was supposed to be watching the ritual.

[George of House Glover 372]

*finishes mating with his slaves, he climbs out of his bed and gets dressed. Slaves beg piteously for his touch, Zogtar kicks them away and exits his house, leaving the helplessly orgasmic slaves whimpering in their pen. He hurries over to the Rex's palace, eager to see the Rex get the crap beaten out of him.

[Ned Lud 1260]

Ned Lud'Gorkil lumbers down into the arena, sneering and scratching his scarred belly with a lone right hand. He steps over to the fallen boar, kicking it over onto it's side with a booted heel. He takes a knee for a moment, closing his eyes and muttering something sacred under his breath as he rests his hand on the bridge of the beast's snout, almost as if he is speaking to it in a whisper. His eyes slowly open and with his right hand, he hammerfists one of the tusks a few times, breaking off a jagged length of the bone near the base. He holds it high in the air with a disgusting chortle as he rises to his feet, gripping it like a dagger as the blood from his knuckles drips onto his bared and mangled scalp.

The grizzled old warrior shaman steps towards his clan brother, Thore'Gorkil, drawing the keen edge of the tusk across his own face, once, twice, then three times, nearly taking out his left eye in the process. The blood pours down his face and chin, trickling onto his boots. As he closes in, he draws the blood moon and crescent of Gorkil upon his own chest as well, unflinching. Most of his nerve ending died or scarred over long ago and the bloodlust and adrenaline of the ritual now surges through his veins. If Ned Lud'Gorkil feels any pain right now, he isn't showing it. Or perhaps it is simply the fact that his face looks like a meatball that has been trampled by a herd of pigs, rendering his facial expressions largely unreadable.

Ned Lud'Gorkil now stands face to face with Thore'Gorkil, still not laying a finger on him. The front half of his body is blanketed in a sheet of blood and his hand tightens into a fist around the tusk. He begins punching himself in the face at about 75% strength, growling intermittently until a fair amount of blood has been transferred via blood spatter onto Thore'Gorkil's face. He does this several times until his fingers become numb, at which point he simply shrugs and slumps his shoulders. His mouth twists into a wicked grimace as he chortles, "Latz turn, bruddah."

Ned Lud'Gorkil immediately follows up by headbutting Thore'Gorkil in the face. He shoulders him, half-tackling him into the sand and pinning him down with a skull-clad knee. With the boar's tusk, he carves the blood moon and crescent of Gorkil into Thore'Gorkil's chest. He thumps his own wound with a close fist and then thumps down onto his brother's fresh wound, smearing their blood together in a wild frenzy. He digs his filthy, fat sausage-fingers around in the wound, tracing the symbol and then drawing the symbol onto his own face where it becomes lost on an already crimson canvas. Reeling his head back and spraying blood, saliva and flecks of rotten flesh he hollers, "Da gijakhan nagraufom!! A bruddah haz ang gijak-ishi!! Iron in da blud ob Gorkil!! Come bruddahz ahg let us honor da old wayz ob Gorkil. Hurry ahg cut before der am nubting left!!" Keeping him pinned, he starts making various cuts and gouges, gesturing with the boar's tusk and a thump to his chest for Mogroka'Gorkil and the other members of the clan to join in the ancient clan tradition.

[Austin 697]

Thore'Gorkil roars, he is caked in blood and begins to join his brothers in the sacred tradition. He grunts several times after the first few hits and howls as he appears to be a red orc and no longer green.

[Krag'Thak 7]

KragThak Lifts his head to the skys and lets out a savage Roar,reveling in the blood and traditions of his brothers. He headbutts the nearest Orc,and knocks the orc unconscious from the raw force.

[Sultan 3953]

Mogroka pushing Orcs off of Thores body, he looks at the bloodied Rex, half unconscious. He calls for one of his sons, he comes up with a chest opening it , there sat a Black Crown in the chest, Mogroka takes it and slams it down Throes head and then lets him fall again to the ground.

[ΚΨΙΞ 710]

Marggbog lets out his pleasure by seeing his strong Rex being able to withstand the beating. After Mogroka puts the crown onto his head and Thore falls down again, Marggbog lets out a chuckle "ERUERERUERUERERUERUUERUERERUERUEEUR"