BenVader

The Redskin woke up in a sweat, retching to the side as his vision returning to him from the lamenations of the vision he just bore witness to. Was that a dream? A mere figment of my imagination or maybe. . . hmm. The uruk sits there scratching his chin, pondering what the meaning behind such could mean. It seems like a message, a cry; it called for me and I shall follow it to see where I fall

Yeah but it's gonna be swapped for a CA it's not gonna be allowed as an FA it'll take up magic slots

How many magic slots will they have?

"Damn darkspawn, I swear if it's a necromancers servant or some demon."

Tarbûrz-mau As the shaman took his flute and walked, he walked deep into the depth of the dark forest, the calmest place he knew. The sounds of the trees rustling, the wind blowing it all made it easier. The shaman filled his lungs with as much air as he can muster as he spoke. frûm, khlaar- bugd- izubu, The leaves rustled as electric blue ripples of mist encircled him as he sat upon the trunk of the tree. Through the depths of the forest, nothing but his voice could be heard, that quiet day it was unusually quiet; he hadn’t questioned it and he continued as he spoke louder. khlaar- izubu mog, The winds blew harder as the ripples of electric blue mana continued to burst out to encompass the shaman as he spoke with vigour - for once no reply - but the shaman knew his voice didn’t go unheard. They were listening, waiting, allowing him a door but they wanted to know what he wanted. Before grasping onto his flute, the shaman screamed out to the depth of the forest for all to hear. . . g'azn izish u da ta'kaz baduzg izish t'akar paugher! As he spoke those words, the ripples of electric blue mist grew stronger but soon. . . nothing, no reply. The shaman sat there horrified as he thought the spirits hadn’t allowed him in, but he didn’t just merely give up. He placed his flute to his mouth, taking a deep breath as he began playing. A soft breeze began to flow against the skin of the shaman as he passed out against the tree. Soon, his soul was torn from his body as he was slowly dropped through the void that he was so familiar with; he had gone to so many times in so little time that he had lost count. The shaman fell and fell. . . As soon he saw a dim light, he knew the entrance was nearing. As soon he bashed against the cold, wooden floor of some place, he regained his bearing as he stood up and looked around. Looking around, he saw he finally found himself as light flashed into his eyes; a tower of books laid before him bending and twisting, the tower he was in got longer and shorter twisted and turned, and anyone who tried to explain an experience like this would merely sound like a madman; insane even! Soon, the shaman began to wander and move, searching and trying to find what he didn’t know he needed. The endless spiral of the staircase that he climbed seemed like he reached a rough stair and would continue, phasing through what looks like solid objects. Hearing books whisper to him, he soon found a door and heard laughter; the same laughter you would hear from a madman. . . Soon, the shaman walked in to finally see a spirit with floating books everywhere; heads of uruk, humans, elves, demons, children and adults all alike hung upon the walls of this chamber. He heard laughs, and a voice they spoke as if there were thousands, “He’s here. They’re behind you, where are we, walk! They always hated you!” Soon, the shaman felt as if his brain was melting. He shouted, “Who are you, what spirit are you!” Whispers in old blah ensued as one voice spoke louder than the others; it was a dominating voice that replied, “Hmm, you have potential. How about this; serve us and we shall reward you more than those petty tiny snakes could ever reward you.” The shaman reached out as a mangled hand grabbed his, spiritual energy began to pulse through the shaman’s spiritual form before he was flung back into his body to return to the mortal realm now, pacted with a new spirit. The Cult of the Soldier of Insanity Index - Purpose - Rituals Purpose The sole purpose of the cult of the insane soldier is merely to praise him, and spread his blessing of insanity; to heal those who cannot see the truth and show them the correct path, to praise the spirit of insanity and give him more power so that he may overthrow his greater spirit lixly and become a greater spirit. Rituals These rituals include an initiation which is divided into a few steps. First, an Initiate must feel what power the spirit holds; the Initiator must be a shaman pacted with Tarbûrz-mau, they must inflict a curse of insanity upon the Initiate and they must feel the curse for at least 4 days. (4 OOC hours) Secondly, they must go through the Right of Passage; either pact with the soldier spirit of insanity or make a shrine to make a great sacrifice to him. That can be a life or important object to the Sacrificer. Third is the Right of Faith; they must prove their faith, whether this is by allowing themselves to have their life or death put in the hands of a fellow member of the cult. This is the final step of initiation.