Panashea

The transformed Rex sat within a new body, and a new nation. The fire that spilled through his blood urged him to act, to plan-- to see the work of Krug and Azdromoth come to fruition. This world would burn for the might of Krug, a new baptism like the one of Aegis past. If the fires had made him uruk, then these new fires would do the same to the world. ANG GIJAK-ISHI!

THE FEASTING PIT, A HARUSPEX SITE OF DIVINATION The haruspex prepares the orcs of the forge and gathers them to strike the heart of the jungle. Throughout this new time he would contemplate the nature of the spirits and magical beings who surrounded him. Great power crackled the ancient jungles of the orc's nation, and now he simply had to wield it. He looked through every armory, scoured every book and baptized himself with the strength of his Ancestors. He would find his answer in the essence that branded him. The Age of Fire was now.

The burnt haruspex rose from vigil, feeling the warmth of the fire stoke his mind. Fervent thoughts of his own transfiguration surge through his mind, guiding him towards a torch. Without thinking, he marched towards the jungle- that stagnant maw and let forth a raucous howl. Orcs surrounded him bearing the same the desire. With a furious gaze, the conflagration from his tattered flesh encroached Freygoth's home. The orcs would have their wrath. THUS BEGAN THE AGE OF FIRE

PRINCIPLES OF IZIG Kulûk az-za golm durbûrz ALL THAT KILLS STRENGTHENS The Izig are a Clan blessed with a strong sense of pride and respect towards their history and ancestors. Thus, they commit deeds of great hardship. This leaves them with marks from the battle of life itself. Bruises, calluses and injuries become rewards in the service of their purpose. An Izig knows their stories will linger on after they’ve passed in the Stargush'Stroh, and so all of their actions are weighed towards leading their kin to the afterlife. An Izig believes that these efforts taken in life, despite all the suffering and difficulty, are the substance of what ascends their spirits. For an Izig there are no material ties beyond ones that represent their Ancestrals, as their transient nature means that they are meaningless. Instead, they take scars and wounds as proof of their struggles and achievements. These marks clean the body and provide a tapestry in which stories and tribulations can be told. It is said that They seek war and domination for glory and to honor their Ancestrals, not for land and gold, thus virtues like greed are frowned upon; in the end all end up dying, and nothing is brought to the Stargush’Stroh, only the spirit. SKÛTOG-STARGUSH A lesser of Kor teaching the Ancestral arte EMBALMING In this rite the corpse of an honorable Izig has all its blood drained alongside organs and guts, gingerly tended to by a Haruspex. Many Ancestrals are evoked in prayer and dance to welcome the new fallen spirit to the Stargush’Stroh. The blood later is blessed by Dlimbok and shared to be drunk by the others of the clan in a ceremony where old tales and deeds of the dead orc are shared and discussed. This imbibing ensures that the strength and might of the orc is passed to their kin. MÂDR-GRIZH A dishonorable figure left forlorn THE FREEING OF OLD BLOOD If an Orc is to die of old age, commits a heinous crime or dishonor against the clan, they are taken to the tallest peaks. The Blood Eagle serves as a way to promote one last chance for an honorable death and the orc to travel to the Stargush’stroh. They must endure slowly dying in this terrible manner without demonstrating any sign of pain, any scream; instead they must be fierce and tolerate it throughout, unfaltering and fearless. This ritual is associated to Krathol and Jevex, tied to the belief an Izig must die in battle. FIIN-BUGUD An Izig marked with ceremonial scars. CLAN NAME Izigs join the clan, but true members of Izig possess a Spiritual Name that identifies them as members who have endured great hardship. To bear this name, one must go through a trial of great endurance. This trial is one not given by the Wargoth, but one made by the orc’s path toward the Stargush’Stroh. As an Izig seeks great conquest and Ancestral might within the world, their minds and bodies are irrevocably changed. As tapestries for the Ancestors and the Spirits, they are baptized and renamed according to the trials they endure. IN-ASHT An Izig Honorary Performing Haruspexy Izig praise bone for it is the last thing that remains from their ancestors. Blood is drained as it is the soul and spirit, and leaves the body first. The second to leave is the flesh, the scars and work that eventually rot away, lest they are preserved. This is why the body and especially the bone of an honorable orc must be preserved, or of an dishonorable orc burnt alive into a crisp of nothingness, to be forgotten.

IZIG ANCESTRAL SMITHING ' An Izig smith restoring a weapon Bound in blood and rubble, the histories of orc oft go untold, less it be carried by verbal word or laid into story by Haruspex. The tales of orcish people rarely leave their desert homelands. The process of Ancestral smithing however has been - with the assimilation of Clan Izig, a more common sight amongst the uruk giving way to an influx of historical recollection. Ancestral smithing is used by smiths who seek to maintain their kin’s name, be it clan or bloodline.This is through the maintenance of things like hilts and pommels, guards and decor that once jotted a legendary zult, or orcish sword. Using these restored pieces is believed to carry the blessing of the ancestors who wielded it before them, bringing a Krughai warrior strength in battle, a hunter’s focus in the forest, or guiding a chef’s hand in the kitchen. RESTORATION An ancient Haruspex's mask. The restoration of old weapons is essential in an Izig’s repertoire. Even those who are not smiths are still taught to respect and revere the tools they use, for they bear the mark of the urukim who birthed it. Their essence is passed on in the tools they create, and allows for an Izig, or Ancestralist to physically pass on their wisdom and strength to future generations. As such, totems, carvings and observational trinkets are made so that the Ancestral Spirits can watch over the home or crafting place. They ward the place from spirits of negativity, mental instability, and the negative traits brought on by Krug’s Curse. Bloodlines of Izig often use this restoration to their founders, whether physically reendowing and utilizing these tools, or enshrining and consecrating them as powerful relics for centuries to come. To consecrate the relic, the Haruspex or smith burns incense and ingests cactus green whilst partaking in ceremonial rites to go along with the forging process, blessing the molten metals with the names of glorious smiths, channeling his ancestors before fitting on a guard, ensuring the presence of said ancestors during the making of the item.

A haruspex detailing the danger of Azdromoth and the Void The orcs of the Iron’Uzg emerged from the jungle, rallying a horde to meet the demands of their ancestors. They set out to the Silver State of Haelunor with the attempts of parlaying through the divine art, Haruspexy. Their goal was simple. To cleanse the High Elves of their past impurities by granting them grace among the orcish ancestors. Diplomacy was never a difficult task for the orcish people, and so with a hearty band of haruspex, shamans, and fresh blood, they discussed the nature of honor and retribution with the cubs of Malin. With the wisdom of Krothuul’Ram, the parties had found compromise. Haruspexy would absolve the sins of generations past and to ensure the ancestors were appeased, the act would be completed in one cactus day.

Agzal, cub of Krug observed the orcs from the heavens. He snorted, growing tired of the orc’s newest activities. He had ignored it at first, expecting it to disappear, but it continued. Izig, lured by false spirits of complacency. In Mor’ghuun, the Land of Warfare, the days had been strange. The drums of war that had echoed out past the desert had ceased and the smell of blood was gone from the camp. Many of the orcs were not out during the day and instead slept in their tents, snoring away and eating. Izig, the leader of the orcs, was one of the few awake. Hearing the loud snores, he strolled around camp. Armor and weapons rested on the front of tents, many beginning to rust from lack of use. The glimmers of gold could be seen through the thick leather of the tents, and Izig spotted an older orc passed out on a pile of plunder. He approached one of the shamans and grinned the best he could with the two tusks from his mouth. The shaman Gruzdub, frowned, shaking his head. "Agzal am furious. Sum’in nubhosh iz guwin ta huppon." Izig never believed in the shamans or their magic. He grunted and ignored the warning of the shaman before continuing his stroll around the half-drunk encampment. Izig soon heard the familiar twitch of his right ear and knew something was going to transpire. Gruzdub shot a glare at him and Izig quickly looked away in guilt. Wind began roaring and kicking up sand. Instead of the clear skies, the Stargush’Stroh rolled and grumbled, as flashes of white lightning struck the barren land in the outskirts of the orcish settlement, lands which had a few dotted wooden towers and small walls. Normally, the orcs would have reached for the handles of their weapons at the loud clap of noise, but now, they simply stared at each other and at the skies, angry and confused by the cacophonous disturbances. The skies got more and more violent, and some of the orcs began to watch the skies, looking to see what would happen next. Then, one mighty bolt struck the earth, and burst into a fireball that spread out, nearly consuming half the camp in heavenly flames and a roaring reverberation. White flames, which the orcs had never seen and knew much less about what to do when they appeared. Izig looked at one of the flames, almost hypnotized by its dance and reached out to the white ash. Immediately, the crackle of the fire rushed up his arm and swirled around his body. Instead of the orcs trying to help, they watched the fire consume their leader. Izig screamed in agony and his yells echoed through the desert, till the fire on his body died out. More fire from the buildings launched off in random directions, hitting some of the orcs and doing the same. Many of the now burned orcs ran screaming, trying someway to get the fire off. Almost half the buildings were in ruins, especially the treasure room, but ironically, many barracks and armories were left untouched. As the sky cleared and the orcs regrouped, they set their eyes on Izig, whose strange body was laying near the center of the decimated camp. The orcs expected a charred burnt and black corpse, but instead he was white and ashen. A large group of the orcs had the same markings, and were inspected by the shaman, but before the shaman said a word, Izig stood suddenly and rushed at Gruzdub and leapt unto him, but the shaman orc’s ability allowed him to dodge the first blow. It was not long, however, before the leader overpowered him, slamming a white fist into the side of his face. The stunned shaman was left laying on the sandy ground, his face sprayed with a mix of blood and sand. Gruzdub looked up, alarmed, and shouted, “Latz Zkah!?” Izig was furious, his eyes red, in the manner all orcs displayed their rage. Izig pointed his finger at Gruzdub, “HOW CULD LAT LET THIS HAPPEN! IZ LAT FAULT LATZOB PUZHDUG! IZ YUR MAGIKZ DAT DESTROYED DA TREZUREZ!” The shaman, still shook from the impact of Izig’s large fist, showed his wolf-like fangs, angry at Izig’s ignorance. A recreation of Agzal, the great fiery Ancestral. Before battle broke out between the two opposing orcs, Izig’s body began glowing white, and small red and orange embers charred his thick, leather-like skin. Then, like sand blowing from the desert dunes, the embers floated in the wind and settled in front of Izig, eventually forming a distinctive orc shape, large and burly. Azgal, their titan had appeared. Their first Ancestor that had exiled them for their newfound lethargy. He was wearing the large plate mail that was once common of orcs, black and pointed at the shoulderplates. His eyes were black as coal, and fangs creeped from under his lip, one of them chipped, surely a keepsake from a past battle. Then, he spoke. His deep voice resembled that of a spirit, and it boomed throughout the desert like the war cries of the past generation. “You have disappointed me, Izig. You should have led your people into battles, and you could have earned glory. Instead, you chose to dishonor me by ignoring my warnings and carrying on, on your wronged path. You and your kin have prevented countless from entering the Stargush’Stroh.” Izig’s lip curled at the awful truth. “This is my final warning, Izig.” Mogran sighed grimly. “Leave these lands and return to the way you once were, or be killed, along with all your brothers. You must atone by bringing all orcs to the Stargush, lest I cut you down myself.” And with that, as quickly as he had appeared, the powerful Ancestral vanished in the wind, turned to ashes once more, leaving nothing more then pale flesh and a feeling of anger and disappointment in the camp. Gruzdub said nothing, stared at him for a bit and walked off, saddened and angry at the same time. Many of the orcs looked at Izig and instead of saying a word, did the same thing as Gruzdub and walked off with the same half-irritated face. Izig stood there, alone and disgraced. From this first embarrassment, the Izig clan formed, burning and cutting away their greed and laziness with haruspexy. Agzal offered the clan atonement and so each Izig holds their faith so tightly they bleed for it.

The aged orc rises from the depths of the Feasting Pits. His mind turns towards the glory of the spirits and the Ancestors, and he readies himself for the gathering of shamans. Afâr Stargûsh! Lûp Illzgûl!