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The Old Lur traveled far and wide with his ancient Lur Wolf as an independent unit unaware of the events that transpired in San Velku. The Orc and Wolf find themselves in a dark environment full of Netherrite, Falum watches under his darkened old hood as many other descendent refugees flood into the area. The elder kept himself away from the Mori as he kept himself isolated working on his studies and practices. He would exhaust himself regularly due to his old age, but had the work ethic to continue on. For so long he allowed his mind to be clouded and for it the ancestors have punished him to a great degree. Falum’Lur traveled between the many caverns and found many of the ancient anvils amongst other things. He found many of these sites peculiar, having interest in such ancient ruins & relics. When he returned to the underdark ruins he found that many he acquainted with were not of his kind; not of Krug’s lineage. Though he searched through the ruins there was no place he would find Orcs to be taking shelter in. During his search he reminisced upon his life many centuries ago when he was displaced from his home after an attempted genocide on Krug’s people and the court execution of his father, Vorgo’Yar. The shaman returned to the ruins as he sought an isolated meditation. The Ancestors have possessed and punished the elder’s mind for decades with the lack of piety within himself and the iron horde. The orc compels himself to think with great difficulty as he rests his blood-red eyes while his Lur Wolf roams the lands of Failor on its own for prey. His eyes snap open and he leans onto his feet using his old but large and strong muscles and says to himself. “Mi shall raise a Temple to those who came before us. Ash dat will nub ever be wiped from duh memory of cubs and even the spirits themselves shall exalt.”
Hereupon came midnight, Dominus Grishnaakh’Raguk having awoken from the midst of a slumber, of which he struggled to slip deeply into, similarly so to previous nights. Rising back unto his feet, the elf looked up to the stars, that glimmered a white hue through his tired eyes. This night was no different from that of the night he’d spoken with Phaedrus; just as tiresome and dull as such. The air, which took a deep hue of grey, was more akin to the hue of a bayou, just as murky and heavy. In a struggled attempt to reconnect with his troubled thoughts, Grishnaakh returned from whence he usually strung about; the bottom level of the shaman’s den. Drapes and vines swept across the surface of his long locks of blonde, glare of several torches appearing in the mint green of his beady eyes. The heat, having scalded upon his, now dried, branding of Skalp’Raguk manifesting a throbbing pain upon his flesh. T’was then that it came to him, Skalp’Raguk. A name he knew much of, but seldom heard of since beyond yesteryear; many, many moons beyond. But alas, to Grishnaakh, himself, there was, and will nay ever exist true death, only a change of worlds. And hereupon, so began the elf’s first journey into the Ancestral Realm, since that of Phaedrus’Yar, the Honourary Rex to his own Rexdom during Athera. The Lutauman sat at a rug, reaching into his pockets for a pipe of maple, of which’d previously been imbued with a weak strand of Thunderkrug, from whatever much was left from his mentor’s personal storage. With the burning of herbs, the scent of sage lingered through the heavy air, a sweat coming upon Grishnaakh with the eternal burning of the mind-altering flora, a psychedelia therein materialising in his own cerebral plane of thought, and vision. He brought his fists down upon a set of alligator drums, of which he’d harvested and crafted on his own, the pelt of the poor creature tearing and grating across his long nails with every beat of his free hand against its weak surface. Boom, the drum went, seemingly in unison with the thumping of the Raguk’s heartbeat, the ringing of his ear serving as an instrumental to such. And therein, the chanting began. “Lok Stargûsh-hai agh Kor; gothûrz, dûrburz Kor, ob amut taargus-izg.” He began to chant, either eyelids coming to a close with the beating of the drums. “Thrak-izg taar-thu, krum botlab-û urzkû, agh gaakh-izg irz-tuk mâdûrz.” Slowly so, the elf’s eyelids grew heavier, and heavier with the increasingly loud beating of the drums, the tiresome feeling having come upon him later than he’d anticipated it, earlier upon his day, when the night was still young and prosperous, and when clouds still wafted through the unwavering boredom of the sky high o’er heather. And, as it did the time prior, a near translucent aura manifested under the roof of the shaman’s den, embellishing the air surrounding himself at a slowed pace, however surely so. He’d grown familiar to this sensation, if he remained awake to watch as it managed in a calm struggle, and had grown to a liking of such a manifestation. A tether pulled at him therein, tying back at his stoic form, as a metaphysical noose would, like a burden, the beating of the drums coming to a halt promptly. Grishnaakh’Raguk succumbed to the tether. At first, there was nothing, only chaos reigning the domain of his mind, coupled with a backdrop of pure darkness more akin to onyx than much else. With a blink of an eye, he regained sight; with the thundering of storm clouds beyond, he began to hear; and, with the cool breeze hitting against his face mercilessly, he began to feel. For, as he did one previous time, the Raguk had walked, and did such beyond his own realm of existence. Emerald fumes rose from the ground below himself, that of Gundâr Broshan, cracks in the ground mirroring those of the sky which held a dull jet colour to itself. Above, deep grey clouds loomed ominously, a reason for concern amongst those who seldom frequented Stargûsh’Stroh, however a reassuring sign to himself. Before himself stood the Gate of Kor, shackles of unknown origin feeling against the edges of such, as though to represent the nature of death, in and of itself. The orthodoxy of the world he walked most of his days having left him behind, all oddities and obscurities that may have occurred under the sky of the Ancestral Realm retained a mundanity to them, in the eyes of Grishnaakh, for this was only a matter for further appreciation of the spirits. “Lûk-ob Maehr, broshân urzkû.” A simple lantern of aquamarine fry came to be from the obsidian which formed the walls of Doraz agh Kor, a hand of similar tonality materialising in the air before Grishnaakh, bringing itself down near the ground to pick the elf up, raising him beyond the ceiling to the sky. With a flash of a bedazzled grin, the man scanned the lands before himself, managing a glance at Turu Dobu Ziimarum through his naïveté, Kor having taken notice of such. “Atîg, lok gothûrz Kor.” He replied gently, gates swinging beyond his view at such, little hesitation therein from Kor. “Hon-tû.” The spirit responded at such, dematerialising into a hazy fog as he motioned for the elf to pass through. And so began Grishnaakh’s walk to the Fields of Many Tranquility, passing through several passages along the way, with cloaked sons and daughters of Krug and Maehr watching the high elf expectantly, as though he were to fulfil something in particular. Finally so, the Dominus arrived at whereupon he’d hoped to go, presumably, passing through the buffalo grass of Turu Dobu Ziimarum until he’d managed to see the blindness of an empty corridor. Seldom prospered much in these halls, which took to a projection of utter silence, and darkness, save for the eternal flickering and crackling of fry before himself. As though an endless spiral, and descent into nothing, the walls before Grishnaakh took nothing but further blindness, if any such was possible at all. There was little space to wander amuck to and from, the elf therefore opting to remain stood upon his own two feet. “I have come a long way for you, o’ honourable Clan Father, Skalp’Raguk.” Grishnaakh’Raguk called out expectantly, in the old tongue, the hollowness of the halls instead returning but his own echo in concurrence to his heed of call. Little else became of this silence, the eternal burning of oak continuing to meander in smell and sound. “Broshan, Grishnaakh.” A voice uttered back apathetically, as though not all too eager nor excited, only bored and dull. “Why have you come here, into my own domain?” Such a voice could only be matched to his own might, Skalp’Raguk the Honourable. “I require your guidance, Skalp. Just last cactus day, I spoke with Phaedrus in a spirit walk, with the same request, and yet-” Grishnaakh’s voice echoed through the entirety of the corridor, if there was any such thing as an ending to the constant darkness to it. “I feel just as lost as I did then.” “Speak then, Grishnaakh.” Skalp’s disembodied voice urged for the elf to continue. “I feel lost, as though I do not even know who I am any longer.” He began, a troubled smirk coming upon his visage, in signifying his distress at such a situation, club of bone gripped tightly within his other hand. “All I have ever done is for the sake of pleasing others. I become other people, for such purposes, and now I do not know who I am.” “Nobody asked for you to do so, Grishnaakh.” Further off, Skalp snickered at such naïveté, as though seeing the silliness in such a remark. “Why should you care for the opinions of others, besides yourself?” The voice spat, continuing along its answer. “**** them. You are your own person, Grishnaakh, and you may so go on to do whatever you wish.” “I see.” Grishnaakh placed a hand at his Adam’s apple in a further understanding of Skalp’s philosophy, an uncertainty therein in his neutral, tentative tone. “Well then, perhaps it was high time I searched for who I truly am.” “You are leaving now?” His voice heeded once more, tongue continually brash through the entirety of the interaction, however not at all in a harmful, nor disrespectful sense. “Well then, go make a ******* shrine for me or.. Something. I didn’t die for people to disturb my rest.” With the uttering of a final chuckle, Grishnaakh bobbed his head in reverence to the spirit, stumbling backwards only once before tripping unto the floor in a hurried crash, therein leaving the silence and crimson of the room behind, as he jolted back awake in a cold sweat, amidst the thick, warm air of the shaman’s den.
Inferis The Demons Among Men In the beginning, Man was borne from the hand of the Creator, and was gifted with a soul to give him definition. The soul, otherwise known as the spirits of mortals, is an ethereal essence that hides in the bosom of all things, ranging from an innate power and potential of a dim glow to a brilliant shine. Mortals were given these Superior Souls, allowing them to function as they do to this day; giving them shape and distinction through an attunement to the blood, and allowing for connections to the eldritch and the beyond to be established and utilized. The mortal races, known as the descendants, were conceived in an image of variety, and thus their souls allow them to achieve endless, glorious things. The nature of discord set upon the mortal world and its denizens allowed them everything and nothing. But with disorder comes many things. Through the ages of yore, the pure image of mortalkind has been subject to differing forms of change; Men and their souls have been known to be like clay to beings defined as deities, for by taking hold of their souls they may be shaped into whatever these deities desire. Even Men themselves have devised means to change their very base corporeal makeup; leading to the creation of Liches, Golems, and others in such a spectrum. The descendants, as agents of discord, are thus wholly subject to change. But when change comes to them without a master, this nature of disorder runs amok. The fallout of Aengudaemonic wars, the taint of dark magics, the intrusions of the Void; all masterless forms of discord, bringing great change upon those who come to dauntlessly behold it. These things can corrupt mortals; this is known true. Sickness and disease borne of these forces of chaos have been known to plague the world in epochs past. But to truly change Man into something else… such a horror is one that has been replicated in many forms. From these sources of discord rose the Inferis. These Inferis are limitless in corporeal form and monstrous in both mind and body, for when they meddled with sources of raw chaotic power it scorched them to such a degree that their bodies, their minds and their very souls were twisted and malformed. These sources of disorder (having been defined before as places like Void-warped or dark art-warped locations; any place with an unguided, extremely hazardous fallout) give the race of Inferis both an extreme, chaotic variation and a singular, defined identity: they are all relatable because they often do not relate. It is their malformations and twisted identities, alongside their savage and feral nature, that define them as Inferis. But it is also their souls that define them as such -- Inferic souls are Superior Souls contorted into something else, something inherently wrong and pulled from the Creator’s design. Inferis are robbed of their distinction and definition, and thus are unified through it. They may hail from many places -- they may crawl from the Abyss, where displaced Lifeforce clamors to occupy the living and imbue them with terrible cancers. They may drift from the Stratum Lands, where the Revenants reign free and the Void is one with the world. They may rise from the ashes of the Fallen One, twisted by his flame. Through this unification of disorder, Inferis also follow a loose hierarchy -- it is vile and savage, alluding to the very base nature of life. Inferic Souls are robbed of the brilliant light of Superior Souls; if Superior Souls are embodied by a grand, ethereal light, then Inferic Souls are defined by a tumultuous, uncontrollable flame - exuding both a shadow and a radiance. Thus, regardless of their origin of discord, Inferis often relate with fire. Because of this, they have often been designated as “Daemons” in the past; leading to a confusion as to what they truly are. Lesser Inferis Entities defined as Lesser Inferis are beings in the infernal hierarchy that are otherwise known as “converts”; all Inferis are first formed by mortal beings being vastly twisted into malformed creatures, and thus Lesser Inferis are essentially determined as malformed mortals. They are limitless in form, savage like blood-drunk beasts, and bear not even the smallest remnants of their former selves; the formation of their Inferic Souls tucks away all humanity into the darkness of their inner flame of disorder. But Lesser Inferis may also vary in power, for many entities that bear untainted Superior Souls may be subject to Inferic conversion. It is stated in legends that even dragonkin may be turned into Inferis, though as only High Dragons, or Dragaar, hold untouched Superior Souls, it is unlikely for any dragonkin to suffer the malformations that mortals can be subject to. By becoming what they are, Lesser Inferis are condemned to roam the world as harbingers of chaos, for where-ever they dwell they seek to kill and pillage and destroy without rhyme or reason. They do not search for something - they do not crave some form of satiation from mortal essence, or admire the alluring shine of mortal treasures. Lesser Inferis bring chaos because it is their very nature as agents of discord. When a Lesser Inferi dies, their Inferic Souls follow the same path as all other souls, seeking the Soul Stream. But there lies a distant calling to all Lesser Inferis that come to exist; a strange hithering and a need to adhere to it, like a child obeying the call of a father. From the Spiritual Realms, the eldritch Greater Spirits Ixli and Ikuras constantly search for the mark of an Inferi whenever they are created. It is from their Spiritual Planes that they call to Lesser Inferis and, in death, lure their souls toward their ethereal realms of the dead so that they may take these Inferic Souls as minions and servants. Once there, Inferi may remanifest in the mortal realm to once again act as anathemas to creation, most generally at the direction of their Immortal masters, though sometimes they may manifest autonomously. The natural process of souls is once again subverted by the machinations of the Spiritual Realms. Inferic Souls who do not adhere to the calling of Ixli and Ikuras embrace the Soul Stream only to become one with its desolation; they become what is known as Ragegeists, and are condemned to never pass on into afterlife. Greater Inferis Once under the reign of the spirits Ixli and Ikuras, Inferic Souls become the unsettling blight known as “Dark Ancestral Spirits”; Inferic Souls are borne of Superior Souls, and because all Ancestral Spirits were borne of Superior Souls, a shadowed antithesis may be formed from Inferic Souls. Dark Ancestral Spirits carry with them the legacy of their tumultuous lifetimes, where they seek to undo all that is right and alive around them. Just as Inferis are hated in life, they are hated in death, for the spiritual denizens of the Ancestral Realm fears them -- they quite literally roam to devour other Ancestral Spirits, though the sheer power of a Greater Ancestral renders them immune to Inferic consumption. By doing this, they are capable of absorbing the very essence of ancestors, and grow in power through this. This nature is viewed as heinous by those of the Ancestral Realms, for while it may be tolerated in other Spiritual Realms, it cannot be where they roam. By growing in power, Inferic Souls that once belonged to Lesser Inferis become “Greater”. Through this process, Greater Inferis are borne and are conceived with prominent differences to their lesser brethren. It is very much apparent that Greater Inferis are born with both a heightened form and a heightened mind - no longer savage and contorted, but rather malicious and otherworldly, assuming forms easily identified as “not of this world”. With their minds freed of barbarism, Greater Inferis may therefore experience a recollection of their past lives, but rather use it to their self-serving advantage than to pursue the fragments of their old existence in some melancholy tangent. Greater Inferis are still indeed Inferis - it is in their nature to undo all that exists around them with fury and flame, and the memories of the past are nothing to dissuade this. With clearer minds comes greater power. Inferic Souls are merely malformed Superior Souls, so Greater Inferis are capable of practicing differing forms of sorcery. It is often destructive or malicious types of magic they seek to practice, like Pyromancy or Necromancy. The knowledge of such things are often gifted by Ixli, the Spirit of Forbidden Knowledge, before Greater Inferis materialize once more, and without deterrence -- for Greater Inferis have already lost their sanity long ago. The primary objective of Greater Inferis is to cultivate more Ancestral Spirits, and by extension create more Inferis from mortal Men. This act of cultivation is done merely by wrecking havoc; which means the focus of Greater Inferis are not unlike their lesser brothers. They roam to destroy and kill so the souls of their victims may drift toward the Spirit Realm and become sustenance for other weaker Dark Ancestral Spirits, so that Ixli and Ikuras may build a more powerful force. But this process isn’t so simple. Mighty indeed are Greater and Lesser Inferis alike, but they are quite literally against the world; they are the “antithesis”, where they disregard all mortal alignments and simply exist to bring about discord where there is order. Necromancers terrorize to heighten their arcane power, but often to act as wardens of the dead. Frost Witches devour men in the night, but only to satiate their terrible curse. Tyrants rule with iron fists, but only because they think it is the right thing to do. Inferis disregard all of this - there lies no spectrum on either the good or evil side of things, for they embody chaos, and live to incite it. They are the all-enemy. Therefore, the longevity of Greater Inferis is not what it would seem. By fighting all sides, the power of Greater Inferis may easily wane under the assault of allied forces, meaning the duration of Greater Inferis, under the reason and premise of their destructive, malicious nature, should not be too long. It’s even shorter for Lesser Inferis; they are but aggressive animals and savages, and thus quickly dispatched if their inhumanity does not frighten all whom they oppose. Mortal Interaction Though the vast majority of contact with mortals has resulted in chaos and destruction, there are a fair, malevolent few who have managed to reach out to the Inferis while they wreak havoc in the Ancestral Plane. The bulk of these ne’erdowells have been Dark Shamans, or their successor the Narfurals. They commune with the Inferis in their home as a Lutauman would a normal Ancestral (and as such anyone attempting to contact an Inferi through this method must be a Lutauman, or some form of it), though it is far more difficult due to the Inferis’ erratic nature. Upon connection the Narfural drags the Inferi’s avatar into the mortal realm, much like they do so when summoning spectral thralls. Upon a successful summon, a Lesser Inferi will be completely beyond the control of the summoner, and will act as the feral beast they did in life, often attacking their summoner. In the case of Greater Inferis, they may act with more intelligence and may choose to work with their summoner, though only as long as it allows them to better spread the chaos they crave. Results are unpredictable, for whatever malignant deals are made with Greater Inferis (which consist mostly of pacts to prevent the deaths of the conjurers of these Greater Inferis if not to gain something from them) often end in a grim betrayal or an overlooked, unexpected result. In the Spirit Realm itself, Inferis will often attack any Lutaumen who's minds may be connecting to the Ancestral Plane. To be 'killed' by the Inferis in their home is a terrible fate - the lack of consciousness in the realm means they become permanently trapped in a vegetative state. In the mortal realm, their eyes will stare but not see, and they will remain still for the rest of their likely short lives. However, Lutaumen are also the only beings both mortal and spiritual capable of permanently banishing a Inferi, and they may only do this in the Ancestral Plane. The process is relatively simple, though by no means easy. Likely with the help of mortal accomplices, the Inferi must be restrained by a kind of spiritual net that the Lutauman may craft while in the Spirit Realm. Upon restraint, the Lutauman must make 'physical' contact with the Inferi and utter a rather lengthy chant of banishment. If successful, the Inferi will be cast back out into the Soulstream to become Ragegeists, the Ancestral souls it absorbed freed. Extraneous Indications *The age of Inferis can be determined by their visage alone - as they relate closely to the chaos of flame, they bear some kind of attunement to its life process; through the ages, Inferis gradually wane as their fury (their “inner-flame”), dwindles, leading to the degradation of their corporeal form much like the culmination of ashes amid a dying flame. Thus, to behold an Inferi where ashes and soot crumble from them like dead flesh is to behold an Inferi of yore. Few Inferis ever rarely live that long, for longevity is not in their nature. *Greater Inferis, Lesser Inferis and Dark Ancestral Spirits are purely event tools; they are assets to be used in events and to shape events with. Players may sacrifice their characters to become Inferis, and by extension play as them in events, but otherwise lose rights to their characters after they’ve been converted. *Inferic forms and origins are limitless. Only the “fallout of discord”, or essentially an masterless mass of chaotic energies born from a power source great enough for said energies to remain, can create Inferis. The Abyss, Stratum Lands or other lifeless, magically desolated places are all destinations where Inferis may be formed as a result of their magical fallout. *Greater Inferis, though they share a title, are not Greater Spirits. They are still technically lesser ancestral spirits, and so may only be seen in the in the ancestral plane and may not bestow some bizarre kind of blessing upon any Lutaumen who would be so foolish as to seek them out. *Upon the death of the remanifested Inferis, two things may happen depending on whether they are Lesser or Greater. In the case of the lesser, they lose virtually all their invested power when slain, and so upon their consciousness’s return to the Ancestral Plane they find themselves nigh powerless. They are husks of their former spiritual being, and can barely consume the relatively weak souls of children in order to try regain what was lost. They are more likely, however, to be absorbed by another Inferi or forever obliterated by a Lutauman. Greater Inferis are not quite so crippled by their loss. While they are indeed considerably weakened, they are not likely to revert to Lesser status unless already on the threshold. Written by: Swgrclan & Hellfiazz
Lutauman Clarification by Havel (Suiko) Being the only accepted Lutauman on the server, and upon hearing the different ideas about what a Lutauman actually was, I have decided to clarify, for the sake of lore, who a Lutauman is, what a Lutauman does, and how a Lutauman does it. Definitions: Ancestral Spirit: A dead person; a spirit that has severed connection with it’s mortal body and transcended to the ancestral plane. Ancestral Plane: A place wherein ancestral spirits reside. Not to be confused with the Immortal Spirit plane which is a completely different place for a different type of spirit. Lutauman: A person who is able to contact ancestral spirits (dead people). Blessing: A spirit may bestow a blessing upon a Lutauman. The most common blessing is that of strength, which allows a Lutauman to be temporarily stronger than normal. Blessings can bestow strength, agility, dexterity, etcetera. What does a Lutauman do? A Lutauman can contact ancestral spirits (dead people) How does a Lutauman do that? A Lutauman can contact ancestral spirits by doing ritualistic and/or traditional practices and movements such as burning incense, cactus green, or other plants and objects. The reason for burning is that it helps disconnect the Lutauman’s mind from the world around him and allows him to easier propel his mind into the ancestral plan. The use of objects that were familiar to the ancestral spirit before it was an ancestral spirit can be helpful. Some Lutauman find that going to the place of the mortal death of the spirit, or to the body’s grave can also assist. It varies for each spirit. The Lutauman expends mana to project his mind unto the ancestral plane. If the Lutauman is bound by rope or any other type of restricting binding, he will not be able to expend this mana. Great focus on releasing one’s conscious from the mortal plane is necessary. What might a Lutauman find in the ancestral plane? The ancestral plane is not a plane in which one is either inside of completely, or not in at all. It is rather a plane that one propels his consciousness deeper and deeper, while still maintaining somewhat of a connection to the mortal plane. However, the consciousness is bound to the mortal plane, so staying in the ancestral plane for excessive periods of time is difficult and thus requires excessive levels of mana to be expended. At lower levels of Lutaumanship, a novice might not even be aware that his or her mind had transcended into the ancestral plane, but he or she may be aware, if a spirit was contacted, of extra and foreign information received. The Lutauman might also notice that mana was used. The Lutauman may be able to contact spirits while in the ancestral plane, but only if the spirit chooses to be contacted. The spirits are a fickle bunch. They may not choose to be contacted at first, but then be contacted later; they may also choose to be contacted at first but then not be contacted later. The clarity of information received from a spirit is on a spectrum. The more recent a spirit transcended into the ancestral plane (if its body died recently), the easier and more clear the information a spirit may choose to divulge is. If the spirit’s body died a long time ago, it may be increasingly difficult to contact the spirit, and may take more amounts of mana to propel the Lutauman’s mind deeper into the ancestral plane to find it. Furthermore, due to being so deep in the ancestral plane, messages may be foggier, sound muffled, and be, in general, esoteric and hard to understand. The spirit may no longer communicate in ways that are understandable. Blessings: A Lutauman may ask a spirit for a blessing in times of combat. Novice Lutauman generally have little to no chance of receiving a blessing, unless the spirit greatly desires such blessing to occur and the novice has a good sized mana pool to spend. Blessings bestowed upon the Lutauman have, in the past, aided Lutauman in combat, but such blessings only last for a limited amount of time. A Lutauman may choose to keep his blessing for as long as his mana will permit. Upon his blessing ending, he is as weak as any other, perhaps weaker due to his mana drainage and toll on his mind. While a spirit is being contacted and mana is being expended, the air around the Lutauman may slightly deaden and chill. Depending on the spirit being contacted, the air may even take on a strange taste. As a blessing is bestowed, the Lutauman may faintly show, for example, a red aura, signifying the bestowal of strength. As the blessing is received, the air may heat up if the blessing is of strength. History: According to what is known, the Orcs claim this magic to be a part of Orc Shamanism. The Orcish ancestral spirits have thus defended this tradition by notifying Orc Lutauman of the existence of non-orc Lutauman so that the non-orc Lutauman could be either accepted into Orc society or destroyed, more commonly destroyed than accepted. Lutauman that were not above novice level, however, were usually left undetected/considered not important enough to seek out. OOC Suggestions: It is proposed that, OOCly, all Lutauman record a description of what they find in an OOC book so that all Lutauman are on the same page as to what they found in the ancestral plane...