Wasteland_Shaman

I had a good run, 2-3 years on and off, got to learn some magic and made some friends on the server and some enemies too. I have a lot of complaints on the server & it's state but I don't care anymore. I'm too busy and really can't be arsed to play long hours doing events and stuff anymore, if this response is half-arsed well it's because I don't want to devote my creative energy to doing stuff on the server anymore. For those of you who were my friends & treated me right I love you God bless (even if you don't believe). For my enemies, IDK what your problems with me were but I pray that Allah forgives you for your sins. Permanently shelving my toons, they go nomad after the 15th when I wrap things up. Or get killed, Allahu Alim? God Bless you all, have fun even if I don't find any joy in it. I'm too tired.

An orc, garbed in a kaftan astride a camel took in the sights of the empty Hordelands, a soft breeze granted him the clarity he needed to move on. Recalling how he himself, former enemy turned ally, had witnessed his own people become what Atemu-Ta of Rah'tuma had underwent those long years ago... The red cliffs and red earth kicked by the wind blew past him, as he recalled when Atemu had took him into the Temple of Hesthor and treated him with respect. Not as a foe but as someone seeking repentance, the formerly green orc envisioned a future in which Rah'mun and Orc could practice their ways of Spiritualism the 'Heka' as they were called with dignity. It had seemed that the Sun had set on the Rah'muns as it had on the Horde, the orc had died once for his sins against his kinfolk reborn again yet recalling that Atemu was a portent of things to come, and of things to pass for the Urukhim. Meret-Pa's death, and his own at Akaal behest would not be the first or the last, and so he clicked his tongue, steering his Camel North to where their new future awaited...Free from the tyranny of the Akaal and the urukhim blinded by their heresy. OOC

The Old Wolf Lies Still Liberation. Emancipation. Truth. These were the values that carried Gutlug'Lurkhan, formerly Gutlug'Lurgoth, to committing his actions since the fall of the Horde...The Lur Elder had put his full trust and faith in the Horde under Rex Torosh'Mak, yet once he abdicated the Akaal had swiftly taken up the void left by the Mak Chieftain, the very same Rex that Gutlug'Lurkhan had voiced his support for before their exodus from Aevos. The thought of Ghoraza'Akaal and his servant Maukûrz'Akaal, who would declare himself Motsham with the blessing of Rex Ghoraza Akaal was anathema to the values of their Clan's ancestors. But the Lur owed no loyalty to this Akaal Rexdom, not after the horned and demonic-like Akaal and their heretical philosophies stood in contrast to the Lur values of respecting nature, respecting the Spirits, and keeping to the Nomadic paths of their Ancestors as Lur himself had done. "Urukhim are better than the Spirits." "Lur blood will always be behind Akaal." "Freygoth is a Liar, you worship the Spirits as a Canonist does." Lies. Yet the day came when the Immortal Spirits of Votar and Freygoth would call Gutlug'Lurgoth, who relinquished the title to his successor Veiz'Lurgoth, into a period of Occultation below the city of Ghorazad in the Lur Clan's vaults...Little did he know that, once the silence had been broken that Ghoraza'Akaal had betrayed Krug by submitting to the Bûrz Rex, Hadrian and his forces, destroying an institution that had lasted since Krug himself had established the first Rexdom thousands of years ago. To the Elder and Chieftain, this has rendered Ghoraza and his Motsham's decrees as illegitimate and heretical, bolstered with the knowledge given to him by the Twin Spirits, Gutlug chose to declare the Clan as separate from the hidden Rexdom, the same institution that Ghoraza swore to dismantle as not needing the Lur Clan. In front of Ghoraza's Dominus, the Elder criticized the desire for the Akaal to keep the Clans together under their Banner. Yet the Elder knew the Truth, for the Akaal would enslave the Urukhim under their dark banner as they had attempted to do multiple times, as the Akaal had attempted to manipulate him when he tried in vain to make peace with their Clan. Submission. The Akaal would accept nothing less than the total servitude of the Grishob Lur to their ideals, and so it was that Azhug challenged Gutlug'Lurgoth to a Klomp...One that was abruptly stopped by the Command of Veiz'Lurgoth. The Yasaq, the Code taken by Lur to Votar, was absolute with the dissolution of the Horde and so Gutlug submitted to the Will of his Lurgoth. The Akaal claimed victory and demanded the Lur cease speaking Truth and History, wishing to rewrite it to fit their Clan's vision of what had come to pass centuries before, molding the next generation of orcs into accepting the Ixlian beliefs of Dark Shamanism and Bûrzmojo. For a Lur, the Yasaq was the Higher Law, the duel would remain inconclusive even with the greater numbers of the Akaal in Wynlomere demanding victory such was not viewed as such by the Lurkhan. The Akaal claimed to speak for Krug, deified him even, yet they did not wish to believe in his commandment to worship the Ilzgûlz, the Immortal Spirits rather worship themselves. For continuing to preach Truth, and for teaching what had transpired between their Clans to a cub the Akaal had manipulated against the Clan, Maukuurz had gotten what he wished for most. To stomp out the Truth, to quash Criticism, and bring the Lur Banner in chains under Akaal power. Death. The only way to save his Clan, to keep the Akaal from claiming them, was to die. With heavy heart and conscience lightened, the Old Wolf stepped forward and tried in vain to pay the Akaal the Grish Money to leave his Clan alone and accept it as payment for whatever slight he had wrought deserved or not, upon them. It was a vain hope, for Maukûrz had the sole desire to bring both Uruk and Ker under the Akaal heel, and Gutlug stood in his path and told him 'No'. A blow of pride to the Motsham, a petty attempt to wrest the future of the Righteous of Lur the Hunter into the cold and bloodied embrace of the Akaal. Even a Klomp which the slaying of the Lur would be the sole outcome decreed by the Akaal, was unacceptable to one who had fought so hard to free his Clan from the shackles of Akaal Snagahood, and so the uruk submitted himself to the authority of his Clan rather than those of the heretics, Three Days he was allotted...In spite of this, the Old Wolf knew that he must do what he must to save his Clan, even if it meant sacrificing himself, as for a Lur one must always put themselves before the needs of the Clan. The Akaal would not stop until all Lurs were slain in recompense for the supposed 'sins' of their Chieftain, the Elder had made his choice, to leave the Clan and submit to the mercy of his people rather than that of Heretics. Stillness. It was there, hidden away in the earth that the Old Wolf had entered to embrace the final judgement of the Spirits, of Lur and of Krug. With this final step towards the stone plate, smelling of herbs and blood, the Lur lay upon the table and drank the waters granted to him. The shaman crossed his arms and dreamt of what was to come as the knife worked into his flesh peeling away his skin, feeling nothing but serenity and bliss, his mind taken by the powerful alchemical forces that enraptured his mind. Yet prior to embracing Kor's grasp and losing consciousness with the waking world he spoke two words that defined the Legacy of Lur... "Glozag...Votar..." Gutlug'Lurkhan, had died upon that table that day, the Spirits had decreed he be stripped of his green skin of Krug and of Lur as penance for endangering his Clan with the loss of his face and name erased as such was their decree. Kor had spoken, the Lurkhan was no more, his racing thoughts piercing through his mind in tandem with the scalpel gracing his green hide. He thought of his friends, his Clan and Kindred, how he had come so far from a lowly snaga to becoming Goth of his Clan...The time spent with Yarrow'Lur under the Great Tree, of chaffing under Borok'Akaal and his reign, of riding to torment Atemu-Ta and making peace with the Elf he thought was an enemy of the Spirits, to learning the wisdom of the Immortal Ilzgûlz under the tutelage of the wise Gharak'Yar. He lived a great life on Aevos, almost complete, one where he donned the mantle of Lurkhan, Chieftain, of Lurs. Friend of the Qalasheen, even as they crossed blades for their lieges during the final war of the Horde, to forging bonds with dwarves of Urguan and Beasts of Meztli in blood and battle against the Buurz Rex Hadrian and his Ibleesian Legions...The Spirits had decided the outcome of the War long before he was called into Occulatation, his time as Lurgoth had ended leaving a Youth to take his place, they debated, argued yet it was Gutlug's fervent insistence on the demands of the Spirits that led him upon this path, and to it's terminal stage. Peace. And so it was that the Old Wolf paid the ultimate price, his skin rendered, his Lurwolf Asena too brought under the knife stripped of what make them Lur, what made them Uruk. With his last breath as Gutlug'Lurkhan, he knew that his Clan and those that he still loved remained safe from the Akaal and their wrath. They claimed they were only after him, a lie, knowing his demise would forestall what the Spirits had already decreed what was to come he did so anyways as the Clan always came first no matter how High he stood amongst the Clan's hierarchs. Wolf and Orc bled together, transfigured from death, the Spirits had made their Will known and were pleased...The Old Wolf lie still, rendered and torn, his duty complete, the Clan saved, his honour intact. A friend once told the Old Orc, as the green in his flesh seeped away... "To Rise You Must Fall" As was the custom, letters were sent out upon the death of the Orc Khan to those that knew him in life both friend and foe alike. To Zubayr @ibraheemc2000 To Gharak'Yar @Gomoore To Rodrigo Leomonte @MonteGiant To Bon'Ox and Kretz'Ox @MrMojoMordor &@ShyDisaster To Madoc'Lur @Sewer_Rat To Atemu-Ta @Boknice275 To Sa'Maku or Marcus @GoldenBoy To Veiz'Lurgoth @Boujee Keia To Dorin @Riot To Lady Sloane Pachakutiq @Eliseth To Ulfar @Papa Rock To Elridh @Beordan To Shamizir @Kardika To Sir Maxwell @Nathaniel Maxwell To Azhug and the Akaal @Pancakehz@StokedOff TLDR

The sound of an old Shaman growling could be heard as he tore up the missive, slamming his fist onto the table in his yurt. The elder shaman composed himself, brushing the dust off his deel. "So, the Akaal have proven me right, avter I zent them ahn obbering ob peace they choose wagh..." The Elder paced around the room, waving his hand dismissively. "Tonguedancer? Pleaze, the Akaal's currency ahm Liez , they do not blah vor Krug agh zpread their Herezy to the Urukhim and to unsuspekting Shamans. Lur zhall never be snaggaz again!"

The Lurgoth shook his head, he rode out from the city with his travelling companions, a young kharajyr cub, a fellow shaman and the injured Dorin Starbreaker...Smoke and ash fell behind him yet the Uruk heard whispers in his mind as his horse tread along the path to Urguan... "Flay them...Flay them all...These infidels shall pay for believing in fairy tales and following false gods..." The Uruk simply rode on with his party, paying heed to the voice of The Flayer in his head, he kept the course...Until a skipping otter caught his attention.

Upon receiving this missive from a dead raven, shot dead with a carefully placed arrow...The Lurgoth retrieved the scroll attached to it's still corpse and read it, giving a nod. His expression was a mixture of gladness and horror...He mused on his decision to obey the Targoth's orders and not flay Ser Redgar, glad that he was not the one who condemned an innocent man to die. Horror for Khaled and his family, for the Bûrz Tyrant Hadrian had condemned one of the few knights he considered a friend and his family to his death... "Meng haz to varn Khaled...He ahm in danger nao..." The Lurgoth mounted his rose and rode off in haste, leaving the dead raven still in the wetlands to rot...

"The Grishob Lur vhaz nebber made vor the open vaterz, but perhapz mengyn Clan kan kobble together azh zhip vorthy ob Akathro agh Ankruz vor dis Wagh!" The Lurgoth mused upon the order, nodding his head upon reading the missive.

The Lurgoth sat in his chair, recovering from the injury he sustained to his head. In the Clan Halls, curled up like an egg with his Lurwolf, the den mother comforting him. Gutlug took up to the ceiling, before beginning to write down something in his journal. His scribbling a symptom of the psychological and physical trauma inflicted to his pysche "On thIs kaKtUs daY, the EMPIRE attaCKed the HorDE UNPROVOKED!!! In vAIn I have trIEd to reaSOn with them...As MAdOc'LUR my predeCESSor wouLd havEdoNE...GLOZAG'VOTAR...May KRUG foRgIVe my wEAknEss and grant LUR steNGth iN the fUTure TO cOMe. I thINK DIPLOMACY has FAILED...VOTAR GUIDE US IN BUB'HOSH VOTAR. MAY KRUG OUR GOD PROTECT US." The Lurgoth stamps the message with his seal before dropping his quill, taking a nap on the side of his Lurwolf, experiencing nightmares during his rough sleep...

I'm interested to see the future of this in the stories to come on LOTC, inspired by but respectfully done.

The Lurgoth recalled when he shot an arrow into the Barrowlord, now it was time to call for the hunt. He readied his bow and glaive, preparing himself to face the undead menace. Whether or not the Undead polluter of Freygoth's domain was an enemy of the Black Church or not made little difference to the Hunter, the Hunt was called and the Lurs would be the first to answer!

We are the Hunters, The Enemy is Our Prey From ages past, the Lur Clan has always been a constant in the life of the orcs of the Horde. From the first days of Lur himself, the lastborn son of Krug alongside his brothers Rax and Gorkil, the path of the Lur orc has always been to hunt and scout the world for new lands for the Uruk Hordes. Mastery over beasts and the land itself is intrinsic to the Lur way of life, with Lurs dominating the animal husbandry industry of the Horde along with growing an array of herbs & hallucinogens to assist in healing and shamanic rituals. The Lur relies not solely on his Krug-given strength, for Lur was the smallest of his brothers and relied on his wits and lithe frame to outwit and outmaneuver his quarry when compared to his brothers. To this end, Clan Lur carries Lur's legacy of the Lurwolf, the holy beast Clan Lur takes as their Totem, along with the taming of great beasts and teamwork with their sworn siblings to take down their prey. To those who have crossed blades with a wolf before in the wild, they would know... Wolves hunt in packs, and Clan Lur is no exception to this adage... The prowess of the Lur in the art of Hunting extends to any who would defy the Horde, with Clan Lur's scouts raising the flayed skins of their enemies as banners to praise the Spirits and demoralize their foes. Beast, Darkspawn, Descendant. All can be considered quarry to a seasoned Lur Hunter. This skill in battle is tempered with a deep Spiritualist understanding of the Lur orc, with Lurs focusing on tempering their rage and taming their Bloodlust, for it is an afront to Lur their Ancestor to lose sight of oneself and become the beasts they seek to overcome. The skin of blooded Lurs is always Green, a reflection of their pure nature as the cubs of Krug and devotion to the Yasaq, a Code of Honour that sets the course for the Clan to follow and stay true on the path to righteousness. Like most of the early Orcish Clans, the Lurs take their name from Lur, their Great Ancestor and Krug's last son. The Lur Clan is one of the oldest of the Horde's Clan, stretching back to the days of the old War Uzg and before. The Lur Clan's culture and history is long and as storied as the Horde's existence, with a Lur taking great pride in their lineage and heritage. Much like the other Great Clans of ages past such as the Ugluk and Gorkil, the Lurs ride the great Lurwolves first tamed by Lur himself, a tradition that has been passed on to his successors. The Lurwolf is a sacred beast, they possess intellect above that of their canine kin and are solely loyal to thier Lur masters. When a fullblood Lur takes one for a companion, they do so for life, with many Shamans believing that the bond between wolf and orc is a spiritual one, a belief many Lurs hold that they will be united with their wolves in death at Kor's Gate. The stories of Clan Lur begin with Lur himself, when he fought great beasts in the name of his father, Krug, ancestor of all orcs and goblins, and of Votar the Great Spirit of the Hunt. Tales of Bloodriders who swore fealty to Lur, forming the Bloodlines that mark the Clan's lineage and prowess in combat. The Lur Clan shuns the use of dark magicks, for it was Clan Lur that put the Dom Clan to the sword when they turned to such foul ways for their own power. The keeping of these stories is told orally by the Elders who keep their traditions, and of the Lurgoth, their Chieftain in epic poems that recount the heritage and battles of their noble Clan. Being one of the oldest Clans, Clan Lur are staunch traditionalists and guard the Old Ways of the orcs carefully, being open minded yet skeptical of novel ideas. The Lurs pride themselves on embracing the new while maintaining an unbroken link to the old. This acknowledgement of adapting allows them to excel in their famed prowess of hunting. The Clan Trials To prove oneself worthy of the Clan, it is tradition that all who come to the Clan and those of the age of Thirteen to undergo the Three Trials as it has been for all time. The First Trial is the Trial of the Hunt, a beast is chosen by the Clan's Lurgoth or one of the Clan's Khural to be either brought back or slain depending on the skills of the Cub and the danger of the beast in question. The hunt must be done by the Cub alone, without any assistance save for basic tools for trapping the beast, else the Cub shall be ordered to take penance for profaning the sacred nature of the Hunt. The Cub must return with either the captured animal or a trophy taken from their quarry. Once they have passed this test, the Second Trial begins after a period of time after the First. Spiritualism is central to Clan Lur, and the Second Trial is no exception, the Trial of the Spirits. The Trial requires the Cub to serve either Votar, Freygoth, or a lesser of either for a time. The tasks requested of the Spirit may be to build a shrine, offer a sacrifice from a hunt, or participate in a Spirit Walk with one of the Clan's Elders. After this task is done, the Cub must imbibe a cocktail of carefully prepared drugs to induce the applicant into a blood-rage. The Cub must reflect on their time serving the Spirits, chanting mantras and meditating on their service to the Spirits, if they manage to tame the rage through these rites they have passed this, passing onto the final trial. The Last Trial is the Trial of Loyalty, one cannot and should not be considered part of the pack unless they demonstrate absolute loyalty to the Clan. The Trial begins with the Cub submitting themself to being marked by the Lurgoth themself, the rite involves being tattooed over several hours with the design reflecting the Cub's own trials before. While the Lurgoth marks the Cub, they must recite the Lur Oath: "I swear that I will ride like the wind, hunt like the wolf and kill like my ancestors before me. My weapon belongs to Lur, my body belongs to Lur, my life belongs to Lur. I am loyal above all to Lur, I will die for Lur. I forsake my land, wealth and glory, all that is mine belongs to my clan." The Cub must not waver or cry out during the rite, for every word said the marking deepens into their flesh, solidifying the bonds of blood and spirit into the Clan. The Trial is considered complete when the marking is done and the Khural welcomes the Cub as a Wolf of Clan Lur. Bearing the responsibilities of an adult and may be permitted to bond with a Lurwolf as a full Lur with the rights and privileges of the Clan being bestowed upon them. Flaying & Bone Crafting Clan Lur considers it dishonorable and disrespectful to waste a kill by leaving it to rot, with Lur settlements often being decorated with hides and bones of great beasts as it was done during Lur's own lifetime. The skins and bones of Lur's bounty are often used for a variety of implements ranging from tools, jewelry, weapons, paints and even building materials for yurts and huts. The Clan attracts smiths, alchemists, tinkers and other artisans that can work on these materials for bettering the Clan even selling their wares to other lands to raise a profit for the Clan's coffers. Yet when performed on descendants, the rite of Flaying or Scalping can be seen as an act of respect to the defeated if they have performed honourably in combat or as an act of extreme ire in the case of a Lur Orc taking their downed foe and skinning them alive. In either case, the Lur shall take the skin or scalp and bring it to the Clan's Hall to be displayed as a trophy, with the skinned corpses of their victim either left at an altar to the Spirits or impaled as a warning to those who would make war on the Clan. Nomadism The life of a Nomad is one that some of the Lur Clan may take on the open road, with the Lur setting up a yurt over an open fire with the meat of a kill hanging from smoking racks to make Boorts (Jerky), herding animals or practicing shooting from wolf or horseback to hunt better or evade their enemies as they gallop off, with hit and run tactics being a staple of Lur warfare. Nomadic Lurs are zealous in their faith, praising the Spirits of Votar, Freygoth, the Travel Spirit Ghorza and the Elementals who can make their journey easy with proper praise and sacrifice. Lur himself was a nomad, and so it isn't unheard of for a Lur to take a long trip with a few hunters or even by themselves for a period. Yet when the Khural calls, the nomads must answer and return to the halls to rejoin the pack and make ready for war or a Great Hunt that requires all of the Clan to take part in. Ordeal of Votar Honour is the bedrock of the Lur identity, breaking the Lur Yasaq and showing dishonour can lead to the Ordeal of Votar being performed on the orc who has broken the Yasaq. Honor is sacred in the clan. The condemned is lead to a hunting ground, bound and prepared with no weapons or clothing beyond a simple garment before being released and chased by the rest of the Clan. This punishment is treated as any other hunt, with the Clan in pursuit of the condemned armed with spears and axes, should the condemned escape and survive the ordeal they are granted a pardon by the Khural, for Votar has favoured them in this Ordeal and has proven their innocence. If the Condemned should fail, they are flayed living and offered to Votar as an offering, their flayed skin is branded with the crime and name of the offender before being hanged outside the wall of the Clan's settlement. The Horde may have it's own laws, yet Clan Lur governs by the Yasaq, a legal system that has been passed down from Goth to Goth, with the Five Laws having been with the Clan since the time of Lur that have remained unchanged, standing as both a constant and precedent in times when the Clan is at a loss of identity & crisis. The Yasaq represents Clan Lur's commitment to honour, serving as a moral guide for the Clan, not merely a set of laws that are to be obeyed blindly by the Clan but as a set of rules that dictate behaviour as well. Ash I Only when in great need will a Lur hunt the weak, for there is no honor, respect and glory in killing which provides no challenge to hunt and or kill. Dub II A Lur will always seek strong prey. The greater the challenge, the greater the prize, and with a great challenge, great strength follows. Gakh III Never to hunt, or kill another Lur outside of a Mak'Gora. Challenge those that oppose you, do not kill them foolishly. Zag IV Obey the Lurgoth with no hesitation, for they were chosen by the ancestors, the elders and Lur himself. Krâk V Never attempt the sabotage or the taking of another Lur’s position for your own personal gain. The clan always comes first. Later codes were added by succeeding Lurgoths to improve the Clan's standing, while these laws may not have the same pedigree as the Five, they are still part of the Yasaq and are to be followed regardless despite being amended or removed depending on the Lurgoth's orders and the conditions of the Clan as a whole. Rut VI Only Elders and Chieftains may challenge for Wargoth, and it must be done with the support of the Hunters who will have to live under their ruling. (Yarrow'Lur) Udu VII Betrayal of the Spirits is a Betrayal against the Clan, a Lur must pledge to take refuge in no gods but the Spirits and honour their oaths with them. (Gutlug'Lur) Skri VII The flesh of Descendants and Bûrz is for the Spirits and Beasts alone, the consumption of which is forbidden for Lur's Cubs. Take only their Hide and Bone for that is your due. (Gutlug'Lur) Religion for Lurs revolves around the veneration of the Immortal and Elemental Spirits along with a heavy veneration of their Ancestors, especially that of the ancestors of the Five Bloodlines (Sword, Fist, Wolf, Axe and Trickster) and of Lur himself. The Lurs are fanatic spiritualists, with Shamans of Clan Lur often taking the role of Warrior-Ascetics, spending time on long pilgrimages and spirit walks to hone their connection, fasting and making sacrifices to the Spirits to gain Votar's favour for a successful hunt or encouraging a good weather for travelling the lands in search of prey or a good site to set up camp. Lur Lutaumans (Death Shamans) and Haruspexies (History Shamans) keep a knowledge of the Clan's genealogy, tracking Bloodlines and regaling the old stories at campfires, beating drums while singing praises to their Ancestors to keep the memory alive and pass on their legacy. Lur Farseers (Spirit-Guides) and Animists (Elemental Samans) often serve the Clan through preaching to the Clan in ceremonies or leading Spirit Walks & meditation circles through trances and powerful substances. The Lur Shaman may appear as a monk or a dervish of sorts to the untrained eye, their devotion of the Spirits matched only by the sacred nature of the Hunt and it's sanctity. The Patron Spirits of Votar and Freygoth, along with their lessers, make up the core of the Lur Clan's worship. Though, individual Clan members can worship any Spirit not forbidden by the Khural or the Horde in their own personal practices. The Clan does not suffer heretics or those not of the Spiritualist Faiths to be practice, with exceptions only being granted to non-Krugkin serving as Ughlans (Bannermen) to the Clan if the Khural agrees which is a seldom occurrence. Holding steadfast on the traditions of the Old Horde, Clan Lur maintains a chain of command similar to older Clans centered around the Lurgoth or "Lur Lord" in the Common Tongue, is the Paramount Chief of the Clan and the enforcer of the Clan's traditions. They are in charge of maintaining order and disputes, along with setting the Clan's agenda. Chieftains act as seconds to the Lurgoth, each serving as head of one of the Five Bloodlines and can lead the Clan in cases of absence. The Elders act as advisors both both Chieftains and the Lurgoth themself, acting as keepers of the Clan's memory and ways to better guide the Clan's future. The Clan's Packmaster is in charge of the Clan's resources and beasts, making sure the Clan is well stocked hunts. All are members of the Clan's Khural, or assembly, the governing body of the Clan at large and they discuss and debate how to lead the Clan with the Lurgoth having the final say in all matters, as it was in the old days. Below the Khural are the Bloodriders, the Clan's elite hunters and warriors, two of which are bound to each Chieftain and selected for their prowess in battle along with their personal qualities. They serve as the bodyguards & enforcers of the Clan, with each acting as the eyes and ears of their respective Chieftains. Hunters are the Blooded members of the Clan, orcs and other Krugkin of Lur Blood that have passed their trials and have been granted their marks. Below them are the Ughlan, a new term with the abolition of honouraries to describe non-Krugkin sworn to the Clan as Bannermen, they are considered members of the Clan yet are not of Lur Blood and have the right to be outfitted with the Clan's equipment and bear the Lur Banner in times of war, Ughlans may not hold office or further rank beyond Bloodrider. Cubs are young Lurs and new recruits who haven't yet completed their Trials, they are not full members yet. The Chain of Command The Khural Lurgoth Chieftain Elder Packmaster The Blooded Bloodrider Hunter Ughlan The Unblooded Cub Clan Lur is always looking for new blood of all races to join its host, send a raven to Lurgoth Gutlug'Lurgoth (Wasteland_Shaman) or the Packmaster Madoc'Lur (TheAmazingSewer) to see if you are worthy of pledging yourself to our ranks, Our Clan Hall can be found below for those wishing to join us, to be part of the Clan one must pass their Trials and have a presence in the Clan Hall (Discord Server). https://discord.gg/AjqwHDmEz3 Lûp Votar! Lûp Krug! LÛP LUR!

The Lurgoth pens a missive to the Grand Imam, penning it in the Sacred Ink of the Lur Clan. "Clan Lur shall stand behind our ally, the Shaykh Amin al-Assad, in the Jihad against the BÛRZ that threaten our lands. Lur was the Greatest Hunter of the Krugkin, and I, Gutlug'Lurgoth, pledge myself to hunt these beasts and bring their hides back to Ghorazad to display in our Clan Hall. May Votar grant us success in this hunt as we slay these beasts together." Signed, Gutlug'Lurgoth Gothob Clan Lur The seal of Clan Lur is stamped on the Missive..

FULL NAME: Gutlug'Lurgoth AGE: PRIOR EXPERIENCE: Hunter of beasts, slayer of the Unliving, Goth (Chief) of Clan Lur. SIGNED NAME: 𐰍𐰆𐱅𐰟𐰆𐰍 𐰟𐰆𐰼𐰍𐰈𐰧 (Gutlug Lurgoth) METHOD OF CONTACT: Wasteland_Shaman/TheWastelandThylacine

Khûrriip The Flayer Lesser of Votar The Hordelands offered no comfort, between the scorching sands and the arid gales striking him, Gutlug'Lur carried onward armed only with his trusty pilgrim's staff along with his skinning knife, a hunter's tool that had aided him many times when the land itself failed to provide sustenance. His pilgrimage to the Headwaters went well, armed with the knowledge and covenant of the Oasis Spirit, he travelled to his next destination on his pilgrimage...Yet the Spirit he sought was not one of water and life, no, this Spirit demanded the quarry of the hunt as properly befit a Lesser of Votar, the Great Spirit of the Hunt and patron spirit of his Clan. His footsteps strode across the wastes ahead of him, considering what offering would be best to offer to the Spirit, along the path he had witnessed many creatures. A dingo devouring a wallaby on the path from the River shrine, crocodiles basking along the riverbanks in the Sun's light, and a lone hyena standing guard over a corpse half-picked by other scavengers. None of them would do, for Gutlug had heard from a travelling hobgoblin of a creature from Aevos that had came to these lands. One he was quite familiar with due to having chanced upon them during his time as a renowned hunter, a pack of these creatures, 'Durbûrzlagl' they were called...The goblin told him that one made its home in the cave dens close to the gold mines, attacking miners and travelers alike. He remembered how a pack of them nearly slayed his party, almost taking two to meet Kor. Yet the Durbûrzlagl must be stopped, so Gutlug prepared to meet the creature along the cliff face where it rested. Covering his green body in red sand and yellow clay from the river to hide his scent, he tracked the beast's bloody pawprints on the trail towards a dead tree above the mesa cliffs...The roots of the tree appeared to be a charnel of sorts, bones of descendant and beast alike littered its roots, Gutlug grunted and shook his head. Preparing himself, Gutlug removed his skinning knife and began to tie it to his pilgrim's staff forming a crude spear for felling the beast. Beneath the tree, the tracks led further into a dry cave filled with a musky smell. A lone male, marking its territory. The beast suspected nothing was amiss as Gutlug crept into the cave's entrance, spear in hand, from the cave floor he picked up a stone and threw it at the beast, The Spirit would not accept this sacrifice if he hadn't roused it first, such was the decree of Votar. From this disturbance the beast stirred from its slumber. Anticipating the beast, Gutlug raised his spear, knowing he was at a disadvantage in this fight, he dashed to the side as the beast strode to the cave's mouth. Gutlug waited for the proper moment to strike, his earthy scent a mask for his prey's rather large and attuned scent, his ears perked with every stride of the Durbûrzlag's claws dragging on the ground. As the Sun's last light struck the beast's yellow hide, the orc pilgrim roared and thrust his spear into it's side, blood gushing onto the cave floor before turning to face him after he'd pulled his spear from it's mark. The creature immediately pounced on Gutlug, the two locked in combat as Gutlug fought the beast off with his spear, scissor-teeth gnashing and sputtering spittle on his green face. The beast's claws dug into his bare arms, the two snarling as they wrestled for supremacy in this cave, orc prevailing with Gutlug managing to toss his foe off onto the ground belly-up. In this moment, Gutlug seized it, plunging the spear into the underbelly before drawing its guts out with the knife's blade on his ramshackle spear. Gutlug breathed heavily, having exerted his energy on the hunt, along with the mark of his struggle dripping orcish blood onto the ground. With the corpse of his quarry over his shoulder, spear in hand he lumber out of the cave, he made for the tree. Soon enough, the Sun crept down below the horizon, Last Light hitting the mesa cliffs. It looked beautiful, it truly did for the Uruk, having dealt with sticking to the low-paths during his pilgrimage. Yet now it was time to offer his due, for Votar had offered him a victory and payment was needed. Taking his prize to the base of the Charnel Tree, he laid it down and prayed to Votar, kneeling at the tree. Gutlug removed the skinning knife from the binds securing it onto his staff, muttering a silent prayer, he began to flay the hide from the beast from it's flesh. Gutlug turned his nose a little, he was used to the smell of blood and musk, yet the acrid smell never got too old as he pried the skin from it's corpse and laid it upon the tree's dead branches. Now it was the time to contact the Spirit of which resembled the beast, Khûrriip the Flayer, Lesser of Votar whose Forest of Skins was decorated with the hides of every beast, descendant, and even the Bûrz prey of old hunters. There, he spoke the Old Tongue. "Khûrriip, za kausharûr strohlab golmizg, riipob za hûrûrz horn thororirlab golmizg. Hoitalizg, amukh turu ranzik Tauriipoblab thrakugalat. Rad za hoitalizg kullat lûpizg mûlû botlab urzkû baduzgûlat!" (Khûrriip, I offer this sacrifice to your Shrine, the skin of this brave beast on your altar. I am the hunter, who many moons ago you brought to your Forest of Skins. Now this hunter asks you to show the road to your world again!) At the base of the dead tree, Gutlug leaned forward and his soul was transported from the Mortal realm, his very soul now in a place he had travelled there before with his Mentor and Teacher in the ways of Farseeing, Gharak Yar. The dark forest had remained the same as it was when the two shamans had visited this realm, the Blood Moon hanging high in the sky, perpetually offering it's sanguine light onto the trees bearing the flayed skins of almost every creature, men, beasts, even orcs splayed on the tree's branches. Gutlug himself was unphased, as the forest itself opened a path for him. In his arms lay the skin of the beast, the Moon lighting the road through the forest as Gutlug passed by every tree, every branch, every skin that hanged from its branch. Some old, tattered and worn, others dripping blood onto the dark grass, veins still visible from having being peeled and offered recently it mattered not, for the lord of this place cared not whether the living or the dead had been offered. All was a fair kill for the Flayer, the moment had not been lost upon the shaman, for among the trees lay Khûrriip themself, Lord of Skins, The Flayer, Keeper of the Flayed Wood. 𐰷𐰇𐰼𐰼𐰄𐰯 The Flayer, a Spirit almost as large as a small dragon, rested above Gutlug in the branches, observing Their servant present the offering...Their form bearing the likeness of the very beast that they slew to honour them, the Durbûrzlagl, the marsupial predator whose pelt he offered. Khûrriip addressed the Shaman, a harsh speech uttering from Them. "Mirz kulash taulabishi? Mirz Khûrriipû gashdurbub, Gothob Riipu agh Atishalob Tauriipob?! RAD GASHNLAT! Kothuizub niinthroqum grishûr...Snagaizub." (Who is the one in my forest? Who swears to Khûrriip, Lord of Skins and Keeper of the Flayed Forest?! YOU MUST SAY NOW! My claws are thirsty for blood...My Slave.) Khûrriip descended from the tree, shaking the hides hanging from it's branches as They descended onto the floor of the forest. Spots and stripes Blood Red, akin to the very Moon that offered illumination in this realm almost devoid of light. Gutlug steeled himself, he carefully stepped forward to Khûrriip, offering the skin of the beast to Them. He knelt before the Spirit, spreading his arms out to plead with the Spirit. "Narnûlubatûr broshanizg urzkû dârlabishi, Gothizub. Ash riip tau'ûr thrakizg, ash Durbûrzlagl, ash horn kullatûr hoitishi za uglugaizg. Rad hosh-shonûrlab skaatizg, Gothizub. Gaakh za golmalûrlabob bhûllat. Gaakh gashdurbizub bhûllat, Gothob Riipu agh Atishalob Tauriipob." (Thank you for welcoming me again into your home, My Master. I bring a pelt for your Forest, a Durbûrzlagl (Thylacoleo carnifex), a beast for you I have slain in the hunt. Now I come for your blessing, my Master. May you accept this offering of yours. May you accept my oath, Lord of Skins and Keeper of the Flayed Forest.) The Spirit gave a slight bow, licking their snout, They approached Gutlug to receive Their offering. Gutlug held out the pelt, blood dripping onto the cursed earth and with a single swipe of Their obsidian claws, Khûrriip carried the skin of the creature into one of the trees along with the rest of the grizzly trophies offered to them by Hunters and shamans that had come to visit The Flayer for Their blessings and to bring themselves to serve Them. Gnashing Their teeth, Khûrriip spoke to Gutlug yet again, a guttural and sickening cackle coming from their devilish maw as they rapped their talons on the tree's branches. "Gutlug'Lur. Dârizubishi skaatlatuga agh nar golmal thraklatuga...Rad ash golmalûr kulizub thraklat, amal sigûrzik tul skaatlatuga inizg, Ilzgûlizg riipuob Khû'ug! Za durbhûizg, nardur uruk, agh hosh-shonizub kullatirû thrakizgub...Gutlug'Lur, Hoital agh Snagaizub." (Gutlug'Lur. In my home you came before and did not bring an offering...Now you bring an offering, when you came here long ago I remember. I am the Spirit of the Tearing of Skins! This I greatly accept, small orc, and my blessing I bring onto you...Gutlug'Lur. Hunter and my servant.) After They spoke their pleasure at this offering, the bestial spirit lept down on top of Gutlug from their perch, he felt the great weight of the Spirit as They began their work on their servant. The spirit tore open the upper-left of his robe open, the obsidian claws black as jet glistened for a short while before carefully peeling away at the skin of Gutlug's chest. He bit down and clenched his teeth, the Spirit deftly leaving behind it's mark upon him, formed from the bare flesh that remained after the skin had been stripped away from him. Before long, the marking was done in an instant and Khûrriip released Their grip on Gutlug. Striding towards the tree, The Spirit placed the rather small but remaining strip of skin onto the tree where They rested, fusing it with the tree itself. They returned back to the perch and begat wisdom to their servant, the pilgrim's reward for this covenant and offering to the Flayer. "Rad, kullatû krimpizg, nardur uruk...Gaakh turu riipuob ishu agh hornu bugudizubishi khûlat bugudizubishi. Rûgh riipu tauizubû thraklat gaakh durbûrzla largizg. Nûlat ishuizub agh darûkûrz thraklat, agh ghashanu Votarû agh kulizubû khlaarlat, Gutlug'Lur. Lur Baiark gaakh durbûrzat latakothuizub agh thaukulab, gaakh aarûrz bûrz'hai agh Ishob Uzg Dâgob Lur azub...Za gadhaalizub kullatûk, Gutlug'Lur, Gothob Lur. Votarob hontu sûrir kullatûk, rad kullat ûkil broshanub Tauriiplabishi. Inlatû ûkil ash riip tauizub thrakatûluk. Glothrok! Âdhlat! Botob fûthug kullat gundat!" (Now, to you I bind, small orc. May many skins of foes and beasts you tear in my name. Every pelt to my forest you bring shall make me stronger. Pain to my enemies and the unworthy you shall bring, and you shall listen to Votar and my own Commands, Gutlug'Lur. The Lur Clan shall be strong under my claws and your blades, may you always kill the Dark Ones and foes of the Land, children of Lur. This is my promise to you, Gutlug'Lur, Lurgoth. Votar's eyes are upon you always, now always you are welcome in my Forest of the Flayed. Always to remember a skin you must bring to my forest. Now go! Leave! The waking world awaits you!) They spirit raised a paw, and with a stroke of the obsidian dewclaw, They carved open a trapdoor under Gutlug. The ground itself peeled under him, the orc tumbled down into the hole just as he had back to the world of Aevos on his first Spirit Walk...Now bearing the mark of his pact with Khûriip upon his flesh, the mark had been bestowed and his consciousness drifted back to him from the oddly chilling and bleak forest to the mortal realm again. His own spirit falling down until it had rejoined his mortal body, along with all the sensation and surroundings that came with being in the Waking World... From the journey into the Spirit World, Gutlug shook his head. Before him was the very same tree that he had bore witness to, the flesh of the beast already rotting before him as flies danced around its skinned corpse. He blinked twice, before touching a small red-patch that had formed under his robe. Blood. He lifted his robe for a short while before noticing the mark of the Spirit had been left upon him. He smiled, having completed another pilgrimage to honour a Spirit of the Hunt and receiving his boon from the pact he had made with the Spirit. Lifting his skinning knife, he nodded. From now on, he would flay any beast, descendant, and darkspawn that came under the auspices of The Hunt, sacred wisdom he had the intention of sharing with his people when the time came for him to return...For now, he admired the dead tree, the charnel ground for many beasts and descendants that passed through this mesa. Now quiet...He picked up his staff, sliding the blade of his knife back onto his belt, and strode off on the mesa towards his next destination. His pilgrimage had one final stop before it was complete...

Clan Lur The Cubs of Lur This missive can be found nailed to the Door of Clan Lur's Hall To my people, the Hunters, the slayers ob Great Beasts agh foes ob the Uzg alike, Votar's Champions, I, Gutlug'Lur, former Chieftain agh Elder ob Clan Lur, assume the title ob Lurgoth. After the Spirits deklared their Divine Will through a Hurricane that ended the Klomp with my predecessor, Morzgak'Lur, along with his subsequent absence from Clan affairs, I lay Claim to the Title of Lurgoth. For now, Clan Lur shall be stewarded by Madoc'Lur, my mentor while I make Pilgrimage to the Ilzgûlz so that they may offer their Grukkage to further our Clan's future in this uzg. I call upon Votar to strengthen our resolve to the Hunt, our Divine Mission entrusted upon Lur himself by Krug, agh upon our Mother Freygoth to grant our people bounty agh game in this tik ob strife. Once I return in the coming Cactus Weeks, I shall return with the grukkage agh purpose that the Ilzgûlz'hai have tasked of me, and officially take up the mantle ob Lurgoth if unchallenged with my return from Pilgrimage. A great hunt agh feast shall be held for all Urukhim agh those aligned with us to celebrate when the tik comes. For tik being, Clan Lur's banners shall fly high in the Goi ob Ghorazad agh Hordeuzg, our path shall be laid bare before our howling wolves agh mighty spears. Signed, Gutlug'Lur Ob the Sword agh Wolf Bloodlines Lûp Votar agh Lûp Freygoth Lûp LUR agh Lûp KRUG! 𐰟𐰵𐰯 𐰌𐰈𐱅𐰀𐰼 𐰀𐰎 𐰟𐰵𐰯 𐰟𐰆𐰼

The Oasis Pilgrimage The hot sands of the Hordelands swept behind Gutlug, his only company being the desert beasts that dwelled in this harsh land. The shaman contemplated to himself on why he undertook this journey, for too long he had witnessed conflict amongst his people and the hostility of the Brittlebone towards the Urukhim, the sons of Krug... First on his mind, was the arrival of his people to these new lands of Azuras, his green footsteps passing by an anthill, granting some small insight into how his people had to construct a new home from the wreckage of their fleet. Long had the sons of Krug been wanders in the desert, yet this was the first time he'd witnessed the difficulty of the harsh and arid environment's effects on their food supply. Ramakhet, as he destroyed the Old Goi in Aevos, had seen fit to damn the Urukhim to these wastelands yet again. Gutlug shrugged, accepting this as the will of the Spirits, taking heed of the lessons of the ants of building a new abode from what appeared to be nothing into something. Second came the Brittlebones, men and elves who had come to the Horde not as Vassals or those willing to offer respect, but as thieves and plunderers taking advantage of the Urukhim's honour and generosity. The thoughts came to his mind of the Prince and his men coming to the Rex, his King, Khan of Khans, to treat with his people on the gold that littered their new lands...Yet he remembered Amin and his people, friends who he could share tea and a fresh kill with if need be. His mind drifted to the hunts he took in his youth on Almaris and Aevos, together with both Uruk and ally they felled many beasts, Farfolk and Orc joined in the hunt. His concentration broken when the drumming of his bare feet on the red sand melted away as his feet gave way to wet soil, the rivers flowed before him. His final thought came from within, across the river he spotted a pair of coyotes from the same pack fight over an antelope carcass across the river. Gutlug sat by the bank and contemplated on the conflicts he had seen amongst Clans all his life and even within his own, the Lurs had fallen far from their power and now he sought to bring them back to greatness. The Urukhim had always fought amongst themselves over the most banal and mundane things, grudges that should have been resolved long ago, whose hut was bigger, and over who should be the ones to lead the Horde. Gutlug merely sighed, hoping into a Canoe down the river to the source...As the river carried him away, he shifted his back towards the two beasts. One had triumphed, slaying the other, yet what did it accomplish truly? More meat to fill its belly, yet losing a valuable member of the pack in the process? Ephemeral. Fleeting. Doomed. These thoughts plagued his mind, his Rex could not provide guidance, Madoc the Elder could not, and neither could the Motsham Ghoraza. No, Gutlug needed to seek from a Higher Source. His canoe drifted to the mouth of the river delta, striking a bank as if the vessel carried him exactly where he needed to be...It was here that he would begin his first pilgrimage in this land, a land where the Spirits were in flux and active, here he unloaded his pack from the canoe and spread a woven carpet over the grass. Preparing the proper incense to treat with the Guardian of the Oasis, Gutlug sat on the ground, lighting the incense with a quick strike of the tinderbox. There, with the bruning incense rising high, he meditated upon the ground with crossed legs and spoke the words of the Old Tongue. "Ilzgûlzob za Niinronk, gaakh lûpizg khlaarlab. Za snaga kulatob lûtomizg, kulizg mûl strokhû baduzgat! Norkizg, mirz faltorlab nariinûrzuzg draaghizguga!" The shaman felt the water itself pull his soul into the great pool before him...From silt and sand he came from, harsh wind and dry air... To a land of tall palms with succulent dates hanging in clusters from their branches, cacti blooming fruit from their stalks, and an array of strange animals sipping from the Oasis before him. The shaman felt the cool air from the eternal eventide bring him respite, raising his arms in prayer before striding to the pool, dipping his head into the oasis to sip from it's wells. The animals turning to face the newcomer to their land...Before the waters began to bubble, Gutlug'Lur stood up to face whatever emerged from the waters...Before him stood a creature that had appeared only in the dreams of his time connected to the elements, particularly the spirit that had come to him after he had built their Shrine back in the old Uzg. Voharonk. The spirit, a being resembling a large marsupial (Thylacinus potens) covered in zig-zaging stripes of water, fur of sand and silt, and two eyes that resembled the very pools before the orc stood him down, a radiating Halo of Light blinding him in a short flash. The scintillating sand of it's fur a constant stream of silt into the waters, creating a cloud of sorts obfuscating the feet of the orc, They came face to face with the shaman, their watery eyes locked with his own. Before the Spirit of the Oasis he stood motionless, listening only to what They spoke to Their servant. "Broshan darûizub, snagaizub...Bugdlat agh ghashkrutizg...Gashn...Say your words to me, why do you beseech me, whose Shrine you protected and maintained, and whose hands now offer prayer in my name. I am They that sustains and They that drowns. Say." Gutlug knelt before the Spirit, he had been traversing the Spirit World for some time, yet in his long journeys he had not had the respite that this spirit of the waters offered him. He responded to his pleas towards the Spirit. He prostrated before Them, raising his hands to the sky before bowing in reverence to Voharonk in prayer. The animals surrounding the oasis stood in silence, as if the Spirit themself was pulling their attention from the watering hole towards them as the Waters drove them all together. Gutlug uttered his words carefully and slowly, as was ordered of him by his Master. "Oh Voharonk, I served you in Aevos and in this hostile and desolate land, one that has been allotted to the Sons of Krug, I plead for thine aid. I ask for thine guidance and thine blessing, my people are lost. Our lands are infertile and barren, our enemies plot and deceive as we bicker, I ask for you to show me the path towards unity as your waters unite the disparate creatures of the desert. Allow your Oasis to become a symbol for the Urukhim to foster and cherish our unity." Gutlug knelt at the bank of the Oasis, the Spirit chuckled as They circled around him. Offering succor from the odd gazes of the realm's other inhabitants, before turning behind him and gesturing to the beings that dwelt in and around these hallowed waters, the beasts of the land, the tropical fish in the pools, and colourful birds perched on the palms and cacti overlooking the Oasis grounds. The Spirit's verdict came as echoes upon still waters, invading the mind of the Orc. "Oh, but I believe that you misunderstand. Child of Krug, as capable a Shaman and devoted a Servant you are to me, my Oasis is also a source of conflict. A ripple that strikes my pool can divide as well, yet consider how such ripples only last for a short time. O Servant, consider your own question to me. You must be the one that brings the Urukhim of your Clan first, as you challenge for the position of Lur Goth, you create a ripple within your Clan. I say to you, be mindful of the conflicts that arise and strive to find an Oasis of your own to bring your Clan, then you must aid your people. Bring them to my realm, bring my power to your people. The ways of the elements bind both the Mortal and Spirit worlds, once the Oasis has been found, then your people may partake of me." The shaman nodded before the Spirit's wisdom, accepting the decree of the Spirit without question. He acknowledged, the Center needed to be found, freeing the Urukhim of this stupor that had affected them greatly in these short years. He stood back up, ushering another request of Voharonk, Master of the Oasis. "O, Gothob Ronk. Gothob Niin. I ask you to make of us a pact, I shall not be your slave in name only any longer. For you, I serve to bring your waters to all those that partake of them, and for you I drown the unworthy and offer their souls to thine maw. This I swear upon my ancestors, forever to be bound to you." In response, the waters bubbled, rising around Voharank. The spirit's grinning maw spreading wide, it's mouth revealing teeth of sharp coral and sandstone, yet Spirit laughed as if anticipating this moment of fruition. The uruk could do nothing now, his oath had been said, and now it was the Spirit's turn to bestow the ancient edicts upon Their servant, the animals and birds all bowed their heads before the Spirit as they raised their Right Paw towards his forehead, granting a feeling of a cold yet oddly comforting sensation to the soul of the Uruk. "Oh disciple of Mine, I make of thee a Covenant to serve me until the end of thine days upon the Mortal Realm. It is unto you that my waters shall touch the Mortal world, you shall be my conduit for the lost children of Krug. Guide them, guide and shepherd the lost to my Oasis. Do not be tempted into Flame and Despair. Unto thee, I bestow this Pact. Go forth, and erect a new Shrine to my will." The Uruk nodded, with the Spirit leaving an imprint upon Their servant's head, the Uruk felt oddly comforted by the establishment of this Covenant. Yet now it was time for him to return to the Mortal World, with the mark of the pact slowly fading from his skin, the Spirit opened it's maw yet again and spoke the words of separation, the words of return to the waking world before them. "Return...O serv-nagaob kulizub, gaakh niinizub kraat norklat. Kraat botghaaraizubu, ronkûizub thrakatulûk agh ûn durbûrzizub gaakh skaatûlab! Gaakh kullat ûkil niinishi khlaarizg, botob matûrz'hai ukhik. Broshan agh narfik niinu latûr, snagaizub." From the spirit's open maw, a blast of water spewed forth onto the orc, the liquid forming a whirlpool before his feet. The pool dragged Gutlug down, down from the world of the undying and elemental spirits and back to the corruptible mortal plane... What came to greet the shaman, was the now burned incense onto the ground and ashes, a pungent smell of swamp gas and wild beasts that had conspicuously left the orc be during his walk into the realm of the Spirit. Now invigorated with the blessing of the Spirit, he packed his carpet and returned to his canoe. His pilgrimage was not yet complete, there was another Spirit that demanded his attention, another that he had met before yet required the proper rites. The feeling of serenity that had enveloped him while in Voharonk's realm was now lost, for Gutlug anticipated the horrors to come on the final journey of his pilgrimage.

Love to see more Non-European inspired cultures & possibly Spiritualist/Shamanist? Cultures in LOTC, keep it up!

The Khan, upon exiting his yurt to take care of his sheep, finds one such note in his mailbox. The Khan grunts before stuffing it into his kilt pocket, grumbling to himself. “Tviggies, dey ahm nub understanding ob dah true vay ob dah Urukhim…” The Khan shakes his head, his eyes focused eastwards towards the Jungles. “Ib dey vish to challenge the domain ob Votar, den dey ahm more dan velkome too, just don’ ekspekt Clan Lur to go lying daon…” Gutlug returns to his task at hand, preparing to feed the sheep for another day.

The Lur-Khan takes note of the missive that had reached him, his thoughts dwell on the prospect of this great ‘nerge’ and he enters his yurt. Preparing a Missive in turn. The orc chief takes a seat, preparing a phial of Lapis Ink and a quill as he begins scratching onto the parchment in turn… “To the Azh known as Gantulga, I am Gutlug’Lurkhan, Khan of Clan Lur under Madoc’Lurgoth of Clan Lur. And I have received your summons, and I shall answer it. You speak of a great ‘Nerge’ as your people call it, a great hunt that acts as a maelstrom of arrows and spears. This ritual honours Votar, the Bub’Hozh Ilzgûl of the Hunt. I know not how many your clan numbers yet, from what little I have seen from your people so far, numbers mean very little outside of true character. I shall answer your summons, Tungkhuidai Gantulga of the Turghit.” Lûp Votar Lûp Krug Lûp Lur The final missive has been stamped with the seal of Clan Lur.

Ya Rabbi, preserve us all this blessed Month of Ramadhan. Amin. i am most grateful for finally embarking on my journey to become a Shaman on LOTC, and I am most thankful for @Gomooreand @Caravaggiofor taking me on. I thank @ibraheemc2000, @Chrisoulis777, @adamc2000and @Ibn Khaldunfor their companionship and may their days be blessed this month.

MC Name: Gutlug’Lur Discord: ThylacineOfTheWastes Image: Description of Image: A painted image of the Lesser Spirit of Water, Voharonk of the Oasis. Used to orient focus of the shaman towards the Spirit during meditation & pilgrimage as an aid. Dimensions: 2 High, 1 Wide

Gutlug’Lur grunted, the task that was finally awaited had now been complete. He praised the Spirits for aiding in tearing down this Bûrz zkah, for this was not just a victory of the Qalasheen and Allah, but a victory for Clan Lur and the Horde. He snapped the reigns of his Horse, Tulpar, and rode off with his Qalasheen allies…Leaving the destroyed idol to Rah’tuma to erode in the desert winds.

Gutlug’Lur reminisced on his time with the Qalasheen and their first and unsuccessful attempt at tearing the shrine down...As he read through the Sheikh’s words, he nodded with approval, though not a follower of their ways, he owed Sheikh Abdur his Clan’s aid in this matter. And so Gutlug’Lur began to sharpen his scalping knife, his recent meeting with the Daimyo of Sakuragakura not lost on him, he was honour bound to participate in this ‘Jihad’. The Uruk Shaman picked up a quill, dipped it in Crushed Lapis Ink, and began writing to his Blood-Brother. “Sheikh Abdur Razzaq Al-Mona, lat be the bub’hozh friend and grizh-brother to me, Gutlug’Lur of Clan Lur. I honour myself and the blades of Clan Lur in this ‘Jihad’. Though I am unfamilair with lat’s faith, I shall honour the pact we made. Your lands are rightfully yours as granted by the Rex during the Summit of the South, I stand as witness to right this injustice by the Rah’tuman filth. May Votar grant us strength as we hunt the Bûrz infidels who plague your lands, I swear this.” Lûp Lur Lûp Votar Lûp Krug.

Gutlug’Lur on the back of a horse through the desert with his travelling companion, the Qalasheen Debb Bin Abdullah Al-Shams, after they had stopped by the Oasis. The two had spoken at length of Rah’tamu’s violation of the Oasis promised to the Qalasheen, when during their ride back to Orgrimmar, Debb had produced one of the letters sent to him. Gutlug’Lur looked upon it, hastily read it, and spat into it and continued his ride back to the Capital. Tossing the missive into the desert sands as their steed rode off, leaving dust in their wake.

The Lur’Khan Calls! A Claim to Chieftain! A missive, penned in black ink and bearing the seal of Clan Lur, is nailed to the posts of the Lur Village and the Lur Clan Hall of Orcgrimmar. “To anyazh of Clan Lur who reads this, I, Gutlug’Lur of Clan Lur, declare the title of Chieftain. For too long have our people been left without one, for too long I was left rudderless in the Deserts. The Spirits may have robbed me of much of my past, but they have shown me a future with the Clan I was destined to be enjoined. The Spirits have granted me visions of ages past, when I was Lur’Khan. A Chieftain of this great and honourable Clan, the Clan of Lur, Azhborn of KRUG. Yet the past is dead, and I must embrace the Future. Clan Lur needs a Chieftain, both with wisdom and leadership. One who shall act as the Wargoth’s hand and aide. We must also return to our roots as well, for if we do not study our Past, we shall have no future as a Clan. Therefore, I declare the Title of Chieftain, or Lur’Khan. May Votar preserve and grant his bounty to the Children of Lur til the End of Days! The Ink appears to be have been switched to a Blue Ink from crushed Lapis Lazuli. Lûp Votar! Lûp Krug! Lûp Lur!