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  1. The sound of wood, beating against earth, would resound in the cave system underneath the Goi of the Iron Ugz. A beat, a rhythm, one constant and persistent as a being began his prayer, his respect to that which leads the Blood Faith. Down at the bottom, where large bones of long dead creatures adorned the walls, where the hearts of descendants rested on a alter, stood a grey skinned goblin. A large skull of a Morko Bear, covered his visage, as crimson eyes rested upon the alter. To his left, resided a basin of thick crimson blood, the liquid viscous and reeking of the heavy stench of iron. To his right however, resided an urn of warm sand. The grains still radiating the heat of the dry and hot sun, as the dim torchlight caused the grains to radiate with an almost crystalline light. A deep and guttural growl, one akin to more of a beast then sentient being, escaping dry lips as the Grizh Whisperer spoke to the emptiness. "Grizh, Grizh bindz uz, Grizh tiez uz, but mozt importantly, Grizh ztartz from within uz. Zince da ztart of our lives, Grizh haz bound uz, tu our bruddahs and ziztahs. Tu our clans and ancestors. Tu even our enemies and foes. Grizh, bindz uz all. It tiez uz, tu our ztoriez, tu our path, tu da whay" The goblin would slowly lower himself, picking up the urn of sand, hefting it up with relative ease before he looked down towards the ground. Slowly, he tilted the clay urn, letting the grains of white sand spill from it's top as moved about. His steps matching the rhythmic beat of his heartbeat, as he poured the grains into a shape. Several small shapeless lines, extended out in five directions outwards. Yet as he walked, as his clawed and bare feet danced. He did not pass through a line, did not smudge, for every line it seemed eventually met another line which led to another line being connected. Until each and every line, formed into a large circle near the steps of the stone stairs. "Zand, it iz what guided our ztepz in the beginning. It iz what binded our grizh, for our azht proper grizh waz zpilled in da dunez. Our ahzt bond waz da dunez. Zand iz da veniz, dat not only bindz our grizh, but bindz uz further tu our Ancestor Krug." The goblin would slowly set the urn in the center of the shape, nestling it as it's centerpiece, before he slowly picked up the urn of blood. In holding it, his steps would change, his heart racing and thus the tempo of whatever this prayer was, increasing. Blood flowed out in sprays, like an artist flicking paint from a brush, he created this representation. This symbol of Throqugrizh, and when he was finished and the urn was dropped, it would reveal a bloody handprint upon the ground. Further viewing, revealed the once white sand lines, acting as the veins that tied together the bond that connected the fingers to the hand. "Together, with grizh and zand, whi find da whay. For da zandz are da veins of our Anceztor Krug, that flow throughout diz world, and da grizh. OUR GRIZH, iz what fill da veinz. Mi blahz diz, becauze in da end, grizh bindz uz all tu Throqugrizh. For without da veinz, da grizh cannot flow tu da heartbeat, which guidez our ztepz. Juzt az how without grizh, our veinz remain empty, making our bodiez unable tu move tu da rhythm." The goblin would slowly extend his hands out, sharpened claws digging into scarred palms, to draw forth blood as he danced in rhythm. The rhythm of his heartbeat, and blood, as flicked bloodied palms onto the hand. Soon the rhythm of his heart would increase, doing so caused the goblin to pick up his staff, shaking and waving the charms as he chanted over and over the mantra he had learned all those times ago. "Grizh tu flow, and Grizh tu Bond "
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