“Of Flesh and Soul”
Karazept Spirit Walk
“Tû agh fark”
3 Gorkils gathered at Dom’s Tusks in San’Khatun, sat by a fire billowing the smoke of burning cactus green. Amongst them were Nazark’Gorkil, a long-time member of the Clan and Farseer, Murak’Gorkil, Wargoth of the Clan and Rex of Krugmar, as well as Skorkon’Gorkil, a past Ugluk, third son of Gorkil, and now member of the Clan. They did not know where they were travelling, beside Nazark, and so they had anticipated their travel into the Spirit Realm. Nazark would initiate the ritual by gathering the Gorkils together and carving a new symbol, in the traditional Gorkil style, into their left biceps. The shape would be very distinct and would exist to serve as a reminder of the upcoming venture, it would look very much like an upside down v that had single dot within the middle of the angle. Shamans and experienced Spirit Walkers alike will warn newbloods about the dangers of travelling into the realm of a Spirit, inhabited by beings whose power would seem omnipotent to a mortal, so-much so that it is easy for the weak minded to be overcome with fear on their first visit, or act with ignorant carelessness.
Murak and Skorkon were tethered by Nazark who had finished his chanting, and projected their souls into the Spirit Realm. Immediately, they were submerged deep inside a pool of liquid. Shocking enough for anyone, however the water caused extreme pain apon contact with the skin, like knives piercing deep into their skin and down to the bone. All hopes of a happy experience was shattered by the fear of drowning in a pool of razor-sharp knives, and Nazark, most experienced swam to the top first, meeting a sheet of ice that blocked his exit. He struck his elbow hard onto its surface until it shattered above him. Immediately after, Murak swam as well, kicking out a gap above him with both feet with Skorkon swimming out the hole Nazark had made. Standing now on-top the sheet of ice, the water had sheared through multiple layers of their skin, leaving it red and raw, sensitive to even the breeze, though they would catch sight of a small fawn. At first the group would be on guard but as the creature approached they would watch as it’s hide seemed to randomly open itself to new cuts that would close as soon as they appeared. The deerling would stop in front of the group and a cut would splay over the head of the deer in the shape of an upside down v that had a dot in it’s center. The group would assume that this beast was a guide that was sent for them to help them navigate through Krathol’s domain.
Eventually after following the fawn through a long and winding cavern, they arrived at a nigh empty throne-room, a dias at the centre with the skull of an animal laid apon it. The fawn stood beside it, as though it was important. The group briefly deliberated it’s relevance, before Nazark stepped forward, immediately having his many scars rip open. He then quickly steps back, before looking to the group. They decided it was a test to see who was resilient enough to approach. Skorkon didn’t hesitate to volunteer, moving forward with confidence until his scars also tore open, splaying blood across the hall. Each step caused each scar to rip open and further, met with a seemingly endless amount of blood. However, the willpower of Skorkon followed through and he managed to lay his hand apon the skull. The pain would wash away from Skorkon and his many scars would shine a bright crimson hue, like light through a window but in the shade of coagulated blood. Skorkon’s wounds would then close up with scar tissue once again as he grasped the skull and then the skull would begin to tremor. From the base of the skull a spine jut downwards, holding it in the air, with more bones then growing from the spine, then the figure’s musculature growing from the bones. Not until it’s body was complete did it’s flesh finally emerge from it’s muscle, leaving a black-skinned and imposing figure with the head of a ram’s skull towering above them. The figure’s flesh would cut itself and heal once again in a pattern exactly like that of the fawn’s before a large and upside down V would splay across his chest and a lone dot would rest within it’s center. Through years of traditions set by Gorkil, each member of the ancient Clan took great pride in their scars, and marked themselves with their very own to display Might, Courage and trophies of past deeds, something that this spirit seemed to be related to or perhaps appreciate.
The now standing spirit would croak out.
“Karazept, lataob Krathol. Frumob riiplagurz”
His eyes landing upon the farseer and Nazark’s scar riddled hide would shine for a moment in the same manner as Skorkon’s had when he grasped the skull. Nazark would then speak up, introducing himself and his companions.
“Nazark’Gorkil, sharkû hondhognûrz. Murak’Gorkil, Rex Mazaukgoth. Skorkon baiarktark.”
Karazept would turn his attention to Murak, evaluating him with a long stare before the Rex’s scars would shine in a manner exactly like his clansmen’s had. The spirit would then speak out again.
“Karazept zauguga gothûrz agh hûruga lûrkhob barzuga Gorkil Rex bazglat hondhognûrz.”
“Mal brishzellat brusbrun kramp?” Asks the Farseer.
Without a word the spirit would answer, the socket of his skull face would light up with a crimson glow before dimming once again and a sense of desire would radiate from him like with all spirits.
“Kramp srizdardt labghûlum bolkuz.”
Karazept would outstretch his left and the fawn, the spirit’s lesser who had guided the Uruks, would seem to lift out of the air and into his palm. The deer would seem to be suctioned into the spirits arm until all that remained was a skull that the spirit dropped to the floor and the blood that dripped off of Karazept’s fingertips. His skeletal eyes would glow a crimson hue, staring down the Farseer, as if to answer his question and so it did. Nazark would grasp the forearms of his clansmen and in a moment they would return back to their mortal coils, their task was clear cut.
(Shout out to NanMan for writing the majority of the non-old blah stuff)