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The Blood acted strange, not clear, not precise. The Path of the Targoth was always blurry, never easy for him to choose. Choices of moral, of honor, always putting his morals and honor after the wellbeing of his nation, of his people. Now that progress was coming their way, that the flames and ashes were going to soon replace water and wood, the young Haruspex had another choice to make. He thought it would be a easy one this time. Join progress, join fire and metal to burn down this disgusting forest or save it to protect a spirit he did not care for. Easy, yes. The uruk sat down in front of the Blood Pit, staring at the past present and future. Trying to see clearly to find his Path. He gave a chuckle as an elf's body appeared at the surface of the pit, floating amongst all the blood and gore. The Witch Doctor in training closed his eyes, trying to summon some spirits to help him with his choice. "Grizh tu flow, Grizh tu peep. Izi ahm un da Path, zhow izi wut tu du! Lup'Dlimbok, firzt of de Haruzpex! Lup da Heartbeat of da uzg! Troqugrizh-Ur!" The words the blood spoke to the burned orc were confused, different from before. The Heartbeat was not amongst them, Troqugrizh was silent for once. Borok growled in anger as he stood up and kicked into the blood pit, making it splash all over the walls of the little cavern. Rage, confusion, questions. For long, the jungle outside of their home had been a problem : Hiding undead and other beasts in it, stopping them from becoming what they were meant to be, better than some beasts living in tents and wooden cities. What was he to do? choose a side and risk fighting friends and family or step aside and let his Path unfold in front of him? The tall orc broke eye contact with the blood and starting going up the stairs. Back to the surface, to the sun, to the forest. Smoke was coming up in the sky from a previous fire spitter attack on the city, a sign maybe. A sign to join flames and ashes or be consumed by it. He knew what he had to do now, he knew his Path.

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.

Haruspices The Martial Shamans Origin “...TO KRUG, SHE GIFTED HIM A BONE KNIFE MADE FROM A MILLENNIUM OLD DRÛTH SKHELL TO CARVE TOTEMS WITH, SO THAT HIS STORIES WOULD COME TO LIVE WHEN REMINISCED BY THE FIRE…” Within the ancient orcish lands of Mor’Ghuun, shamanism was in its infancy. The early children of Krug did not understand the Elemental and Immortal Spirits, nor had the power to walk their planes. In the war against Iblees, many of the orcish people were lost to the undead, empty souls wrenched from the Soul Stream to fight against the living. War horns blared distant, sonorous booms into the fields of battle. The armies of the Four Brothers clashed with Iblees’ undead legions. With each fallen descendant, a novel undead soldier shambled forth in their place, using their weapons to carve their past kinsmen asunder. Yet the Urukin held steadfast against the Fallen One’s onslaught - so too, did the other descendants stand strong in the face of the undead. For decades the battles raged on, and when the dust had settled, and the soulless battalions were driven off, all that remained were the tarnished breastplates and weapons once wielded by warriors of legend. But these were not simple weapons, nor were their blunt edges devoid of use. Once Apohet saw the might of Krug, he created the Spiritual Realms; Immortal, Elemental, and Ancestral. The weaker spirits gushed into the Mortal realm to embody aspects of the world, in hopes of pursuing greater powers within the Spiritual Realm. Dlimbok the Wise, the most intelligent of Krug’s four early children, was the lead strategist in the war against the undying. He watched as his people were slaughtered in battle, and their lives lost. It brought him an indescribable anguish, and a rage that nearly matched his father’s. In this age, there was no Ancestral Realm, no grave tenders, and no records to preserve those who had fallen. To mourn for the lives of his fallen, he took forth the storied knife of Krug, and drew forth a tale that no orc would forget. He collected their weapons, armor and tomes and restored them to their original form, drawing their energies into him. He offered himself up, etching his skin, flesh and bone with the dagger gifted by the Daemon Ydea. The orc had hoped his offering would please the spirits, but instead they granted him a power even greater. His flesh became tapestry. In rending the flesh, his blood, bone, and body became an ink that preserved what was made dead. A finger, a hand, an arm. Dlimblok carved away and with it, those who had been lost became as clear as the night sky. The ink stoked the minds of the orcish people. They could see their battles, their losses, their mistakes, and their culture deep within the magic of Dlimbok’s storied flesh. Much of recorded history had been cast into the horrid fires of Iblees, and with it had gone the proficiency of veterans long dead, but this newly-restored knowledge would help to reshape the ragtag bands of amateur fighters into elite squadrons of feared combatants. Under the same banner, and led into battle by Azgal the Titan, the orcish war machine began once more churning and pushing back against the forces of Iblees, now able to outmaneuver and preserve the lives of the living. They matched the once seemingly endless ranks of undead in fierce combat - and as they spread their knowledge to the other descendant races, Iblees’ lines and formations grew thin across the many fronts. And so, with its aid in Iblees’ defeat, the orcish people learned and grew reverent of this primitive form of shamanism, and many of the former soldiers learned among the greenskins sought out Dlimbok, so that he could teach them in his ways. Explanation Dlimbok was a great orator and strategist, and taught his future students how to use this art in providing knowledge to his people, allowing them to gain insight via the spirits and how to extract insight from the world around them. When the great orc had died, his body was blessed, torn, and scattered across the world as a testament to the profoundness of stories and their tellers. He would become an eternal tale, one that orcs could draw upon at any time to preserve their history. Haruspicy is a non-combative magic dedicated to story-telling and preservation of stories. Haruspex draw upon the torn body of Dlimbok. Rather than connecting to the spiritual realm akin to other types of shamanism, haruspicy calls upon an extremely powerful Ancestral, one who’s blessed body remains within the mortal realm akin to the Muyakelgs of the past. These spells do not grant the user any abilities featured in shamanism, nor allow the user to speak Old Tongue without having knowledge of it. To become a haruspex, one must have studied and devoted themselves to the spirits for at least one IRL month, as Dlimbok would be unlikely to lend his power to one that he believes would be unworthy of it. This feat does not teach any form of shamanism or any aspects about it, though many of the more devout followers of the spirits may know of it and spread the knowledge, orally or through books they may have written on the matter. These could help a prospective haruspex begin on their journey, after which they would continue to forge their own path toward mastery of the feat. Someone experienced in the cultural practices of haruspicy could write a book describing and depicting the processes of these feats and work as a means of spreading the practice. To draw upon Dlimbok’s power, one must create a Threshing Inkwell. This device, powered through various different offerings acts as a catalyst that interacts with the many scattered pieces of Dlimbok. A haruspex calls upon the power of the ancestor Dlimbok for their powers. While his powers extend so far as to allow the user’s memories or stories to come to life, it comes with the caveat that these memories are just as susceptible to degradation as any other memory before they are recorded - that is, haruspicy does not provide perfect memory, and memories from longer ago may therefore be inconsistent with the actual events. Threshing Inkwell The Threshing inkwell is simply a place of offering that threshes all of Dlimbok’s scattered pieces from around the world, and draws power from them. Traditionally, they may be placed in homes or places of gathering, where they are readily available for use. To function, they require an idol, some sort of ceremonial arrangement specific to the haruspex, and a bowl to collect the spiritual ink. To charge the bowl with spiritual ink, the user makes an offering, whether blood, gift, but the most potent-- literature and other storied artifacts. Any thoughtful prose suffices, with the varied offerings empowering the ink in different ways. In the case of physical offerings, these can be burned or otherwise destroyed in proximity of the Threshing Inkwell, which will fill with ink on its own. The Threshing Inkwell only produces ink and exists as a way for the haruspex to channel their powers towards Dlimbok. Destroying the inkwell would simply cause the ink stored within to spill and revert to regular, black ink. Mechanically, the Threshing Inkwells are a communal structure which simply hold a large, but still limited amount of ink charges (up to 60 maximum). Exceeding 55 charges causes the inkwell to begin overflowing. There is no limit on the number of extant threshing inkwells, beyond the fact that any haruspex may only create and ‘own’ one at any given time, despite their communal nature. Upon being created, the inkwell should be reported to any ST members (though they need not be signed, and can be used even if an ST member isn’t immediately available). Any RP to refill the inkwell should be screenshotted and saved. As ink drips down the inkwell’s sides, it has a tendency to transform into small animated figures, perhaps simply out of boredom on Dlimbok’s side. Nevertheless, these figures scurry about the area for a short while before disappearing entirely. The amount of ink that drips from the inkwell is insignificantly small - it does not reduce the amount of ink in any way, and simply exists for roleplay taste. Ink Tiers Tier 1 - 1 Charge - Gifts and Basic Offerings (Prayer, Meditation, etc) Forming a black and basic ink, this form of ink serves as a general base or go-to option when other materials aren’t available. It is also often mixed or added as a filler to other inks. Tier 2 - 5 Charges - Blood and Bone (Descendant/Animal Sacrifices) All viscera, whether animal or Descendant can serve as a more powerful offering to the Threshing Inkwell. Once the ceremony is complete, the bowl fills with a pungent, dark red ink. It smells somewhat like blood, although much more aromatic. At this level, the imagery is extremely striking, though still appears as paints and colors that dance and move. Tier 3 - 15 Charges - Literature, Books, Artifacts Important literature, large books, and powerful artifacts can be offered to the Threshing Inkwell. The ink shifts colors between many deep and bright colors, but will serve to paint in the haruspex’s desired color. At this level, the paint may draw upon the user’s senses, though only briefly and in the more striking parts of the work. Ink Red Lines - Only descendant or normal animal viscera will serve as a tier two offering. - A haruspex cannot use their own blood to fill the Threshing Inkwell. - Stronger inks (Tiers 3+) or more particular effects require a MArt and more significant offerings. - Offerings to the Threshing Inkwell are destroyed in the process of offering Spells Pages Alive [Non-Combat; 2 charges] Description: The caster is able to utilise their Threshing Inkwell’s ink to write onto a book or other such item with a small surface area, no bigger than that of a banner. This ink comes to life when the page is turned, causing it to play out the scene imagined when the ink was first put down, as opposed to having the reader read it. This can also be used to make two-page spreads, though the ink never comes off of the surface of the page itself. Mechanics: To enact this spell, the haruspex first creates the type of ink they wish to use for the pages. Once the haruspex has chosen said ink, they draw symbols, characters, or etchings in whatever language or artstyle they’re most familiar with in the palm of their hand, or another tool like a quill or paintbrush. Once they do so, the ink resonates with their hand, and the whispers of storytellers are faintly present. Then, the haruspex simply touches the material, and the ink transfers. A haruspex may follow this process to fill books without needing to restart the entire process, but requires additional ink for every page. The process is done in four emotes, but can be shortened to two with tools like quills, paintbrushes, and so on. 1) The haruspex readies the ink, meditating on the story or picture they wish to tell. 2) The haruspex draws on their hand, or simply soaks it within the ink. 3) The haruspex touches the paper, smearing the ink on to canvas. 4) The ink transfers from their hand onto the paper, shifting and twisting into the desired image. Pages Alive - Redlines: - Characters in the story who are not known to the haruspex simply appear as faceless visages with no discernible features (horns, tusks, hair etc.) and cannot be used to discern any information about them whatsoever. - A haruspex is only able to put their own memories into the book/banner, and these memories cannot be used to teach magics or other complex skills that need to be taught in person. - A written book or banner is no stronger or weaker than the original product, and the memories written to it are not updated in any way unless updated by another haruspex. - If the surface on which the ink lies is cut in half, or similarly seriously damaged, the ink simply acts as normal ink and dries up. WRITING: 1 EMOTE MEDITATION, 1 EMOTE WRITING EXAMPLE WRITING: [Emote 1] Tulgarok opens his book, as often he had before. He dips his quill into his Threshing Inkwell, as images of what he is to write begin already to form in his mind. Taking a deep breath in, then out, he imagines the way these thoughts will flow on the page. [Emote 2] The orc now puts quill to paper, and begins scribbling down crude forms of people, among other integral parts of his story. Even as he writes, the ink begins to swirl and move just as he had envisioned it. A Storied Artifact [Non-Combat; 20 charges] Description: The caster is able to impart spiritual ink on an object, allowing them to portray a tale stored within the weapon - this may be done through fire, water, paper, or for more experienced practitioners, the events may be played through the very mind of another. To tell the story, the haruspex must spill their blood onto the object, and onto the canvas (or person) they wish to tell the story. In meditating, they connect to the scarred body of Dlimbok, and utilize the power within Ydea’s dagger to bury a powerful memory within an artifact. Once the haruspex grows more proficient (2 weeks IRL), they are also able to preserve stories within the object of its wielder through ritual. The haruspex must have the memories so vivid that they are able to describe and feel the sensations the memory’s owner experienced. By engaging the senses with stimuli relevant to the story (the smell of burning flesh, the sounds of war drums), the user is able to fully immerse himself, the tether between Dlimbok and the haruspex strengthens. The more objects and information they have relating to the event and its characters, the more vivid and detailed the story becomes. Mechanics: Essentially allows for a storytelling aid, where whatever selected medium comes to life to show the story stored in the item. In the case of the initial writing of the item, only the memory holder’s items may be used, under the idea that the item itself has ‘memories’ of its own.When the story is replayed in someone’s mind, they must be in physical contact with the item. The memories within Ydea’s artifacts are just that, memories. Prone to incorrect detail, or pieces missing, a memory only holds small pieces of reality. Often intense experiences and emotions cloud the transferring of the memory, and the haruspex’s own mind may warp the overall message(i.e an arachnophobe depicting a spider as three times its actual size). These memories are not permanent, and just as quickly, if not more prone to error or forgetfulness. A user may remind themselves of the vision by looking through the artifact, but overuse (more than 3 times per IRL week), leads to severe headaches, memory loss, and mood swings. The items themselves, upon creation, are signed by ST. In the description of said item, beyond any text describing the item’s appearance, it must include the ingame username (or other form of contact, eg. discord tag) of its creator, whose responsibility it is to record the stories within however they see fit. A Storied Artifact - Redlines - The object must be signed or have some roleplay significance. A normal sword or object is too nondescript to base memories off of. - The haruspex must already have extensive knowledge about the wielder, usually by having known them personally for at least an IRP year (one IRL week), or being told of them by someone who has known them personally for at least two IRP years (two IRL weeks). - Characters in the story who are not known to the haruspex (including if someone who does know of them is being shown the vision) simply appear as faceless visages with no discernible features (horns, tusks, hair etc.) and cannot be used to discern any information about them whatsoever. - A haruspex is only able to put the memories of the owner into their own tools. Memories cannot be put into items that belong to other people, and these memories cannot be used to teach magics or other complex skills that need to be taught in person. - A written weapon is no stronger or weaker than the original product, and the memories written to it are not updated in any way unless further updated by another haruspex. - If the written weapon is seriously damaged (i.e, the head of an axe is separated from its handle) it becomes unreadable, though if repaired further memories may be written to it. - A vision cannot be forced on another player. Their characters must fully consent to seeing the vision before they are able to see it. - Only one scene/vision may be recorded in any one item, as any given item may become ‘saturated’ with the haruspex’s ink. - Constantly living the memories of others has a severe impact on mental wellbeing, causing headaches and even memory loss. - The memories themselves are just memories. There is no way to permanently retain this information, and it would be lost within 2 IRL weeks. READING: 1 EMOTE MEDITATION, 1 EMOTE SLIGHT MOVEMENT The scene that plays out is then emoted by the haruspex EXAMPLE READING: [Emote 1] Tulgarok seats himself in front of a nearby campfire, a dulled war axe in his lap. He closes his eyes, and emits a low drone from deep in his throat as he lays his hands over its handle. His fingers press into each of its grooves as the weapon’s story makes itself clear to him. [Emote 2] Now the aged orc lifts his hand over the weapon. He slices into his palm with a bone dagger, before tightening his grip such as to make blood drip from it onto the weapon, then into the centre of the fire. He takes another deep breath, and begins to speak as the flames come to life. [Storytelling/Emote 3] “It waz during our latest war with da pinkzkinz…” The fire splits, showing two clear sides. Each lick of flame lashes out toward the opposite side, as if it were one soldier mocking another with a war chant… (etc.) WRITING: 1 EMOTE MEDITATION, 1 EMOTE RECALLING, 1 EMOTE WRITING EXAMPLE WRITING: [Emote 1] Tulgarok seats himself before the Threshing Inkwell, dipping his fingers briefly into its bowl of ink, and a short spear in his lap. His eyes shut, and as they do, Grommok, his apprentice, lights a number of items aflame - wood and pig’s flesh - and slops a handful of thick mud right below Tulgarok’s nose. All scents from the hunt before. [Emote 2] Grommok soon leans into Tulgarok’s ear, describing to him the events of the hunt. How they’d tracked the beast for days, and finally cornered it in some deep cave. The animal’s bellows, as it realised it had been beaten and stood upon its hind legs and swiped at its hunters… (etc.) [Emote 3] Tulgarok breathes deeply, as he finally lifts his hand from the bowl of ink and begins scrawling symbols on the blade and shaft of the spear, eyes darting from side to side beneath their lids as the story unfolds in his mind. The ink quickly squirms on the weapon’s long handle, before seeping into it, leaving only a faded, dark trace that it had ever been there. Finally, Tulgarok rises from the ground, spear in hand. His job was finished. Cave Painting [Non-Combat; Charges vary] Description: Haruspex are able to paint with spiritual ink, invoking life into a stony canvas. Through this, they are able to paint their tales and those of written items onto walls so that others might see them. The figures painted move, twist and dance as if they lived. Each character within the painting requires 10 ink charges, while larger set pieces (large boulders, buildings, etc) and environments (grass, lakes, etc) take 5. Mechanics: As shown below, the player is able to build a mural roughly describing the story (though this is not necessarily required). More importantly, the player is then able to author a book describing the events taking place in the mural, which RPly would be in constant motion (though this is obviously impossible in minecraft). To create these paintings, the haruspex would begin a similar process to Pages Alive. Readying the ink, through the tool used would be the haruspex’s hand, clay, a chisel, or some other etching instrument. Once the tool was soaked in the ink, the haruspex’s mind would begin to clear, and they’d draw upon the power of the Threshing Inkwell, invoking the ink to mold into and twist what the haruspex had worked with into story. Cave Paintings - Redlines: - Haruspex pieces are displayed within minecraft as murals (whether through clay, banners, roleplay materials, blocks, ink, etc), and the story/moving figures are described within the book. - Characters in the story who are not known to the haruspex (including if someone who does know of them is observing the mural) simply appear as faceless visages with no discernible features (horns, tusks, hair etc.) and cannot be used to discern any information about them whatsoever. - The scenes cannot be used to teach magics or other complex skills that need to be taught in person. - A written wall is no stronger or weaker than the original product, and the memories written to it are not updated in any way unless further updated by another haruspex. - The person whose memories are being written on the wall needs no prior connection with the building etc of said wall. - If the wall is significantly damaged (i.e, up to one third of it is broken by an explosion or construction work), the ink simply acts as normal ink and dries up. WRITING: 1 EMOTE MEDITATION, 1 EMOTE RECALLING, 1 EMOTE WRITING [Emote 1] Tulgarok stands before a large, flat sandstone wall - a clean canvas upon which to make art. His eyes shut, as he dips each of his hands into a bowl of ink. Already, somewhere behind his eyes dance the silhouettes of soldiers, fire and great cities. Silhouettes that will soon dance on the walls of his home city instead. [Emote 2] Charred wood is strewn about the place, and several orc kubs are told to jingle chainmail, bang sticks against helmets and snap twigs loudly. All this aids in Tulgarok’s mental recreation of the raid, how his ears rang with the terrified screams of women and children as they evacuated, leaving their homes behind. [Emote 3] Pleased enough with his mental recreation of the raid, the orc begins slapping his palms against the stone wall, dragging them to make crude shapes which soon swirl and correct themselves into what he had envisioned minutes before. As he steps back from his masterpiece, the ink begins to churn into the image of an orc impaling some human halfway down the haft of his own spear. General Redlines - A haruspex needs to be able to interact with spirits and thus other non-spiritual magics interfere with this practice, this also includes creatures that are unable to cast deific magics. - A haruspex cannot identify anyone in their visions unless they have extensive knowledge about the person within the story already, or have interacted with their tools or weapons via ritual. - “Extensive knowledge” implies knowing the person personally for at least one full IRP year (one IRL week), or being told about them in detail by someone who has known them personally for at least two full IRP years (two IRL weeks). - Memories written to objects or murals cannot be used to learn magic, or other such supernatural tasks. - Dlimbok is dead and his body is physically scattered across the world. His pieces could be hypothetically found through ET or dredged forth in a MArt, but he is otherwise uncontactable, being very much dead. - A haruspex’s memory is not perfect. Details can be misremembered, especially in older memories. This feat is primarily for storytelling, not perfect renditions of past events. - Either memories or stories/fictional events may be recorded in any given medium, though fictional events cannot be recorded for malicious or seriously deceptive reasons(i.e a fake war with real memorized characters), as these would go against Dlimbok’s personal views on honour, and he would simply not allow his power to be utilised. - Real world stories and memories would possess more sensory detail (although not entirely accurate) while fictional stories would have more visual creativity and detail. - Overuse of haruspicy leads to issues like headaches, memory loss, and mood swings. Tier Progression Tier 1: The haruspex reaches this tier immediately upon learning the feat. Haruspices are able to transform a little of their ink through prayer and meditation. They also have access to the Pages Alive spell. Tier 2: Two weeks after learning the feat, and through regular practice, the haruspex is now able to better transform the lifeblood of sacrifices into more powerful ink, and gain access to the Storied Artifact spell. Tier 3: At this tier, six weeks into their journey, the haruspex is able to take their final step into the art, gaining access to the Cave Painting spell and being able to sacrifice more powerful artifacts and literature into even larger amounts of ink. Greater tiers may be achieved through MArts or Events by staff, though the capabilities of the artifact or action (holograms, living stories, ancient messages from the past, etc) should be discussed with lore holders, older haruspex, or ST. Ultimately, the decision falls to the staff on a case-by-case basis. OOC: This is a feat accessible to anyone with knowledge of the spirits and a desire to learn the histories of weapons and wounds alike. In doing so, I hope haruspex gives more flavor to post combat, in being able to regale tales of battle, as well as making RP items more valuable and useful to the people who have them, rather than sitting on the shelf till the next map. I realise that some objects cannot be 'written' as such - that is, their stories can't be described as their owners may not use the server anymore, which is the sole caveat of the feat itself. Maybe it gives them a reason to come back, or gives characters more of a reason to create powerful stories. Thanks for reading! Inspired by: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/151780-%E2%9C%93-origins-of-the-orcs-and-morghuun-the-land-of-warfare/?tab=comments#comment-1433374

(Music) An orc sits before a pyre of flesh and bone impaled with a family heirloom, from his place he plays a small hand-drum with bloodied palms. He was weak - not physically, but mentally, and spiritually, lacking honor - this orc was untouched by the curse, not that of Iblees’ doing, being unhinged anger, but instead the curse of utter ignorant obedience, the omens had shown that the stars would align, though no immortal was to credit such signs, instead - the orc knew truth, his very own ilk, be it brother or grandmother had laid such hints before him, and as an orc of little purpose, he knew his only option was to heed the words of a long since unspoken maw. He had ingested copious amounts of shrogo mushrooms and cactus green, leaving his senses overwhelmed, he could feel the wind gently pierce his skin, as if it traveled right through him - a tingle overcoming his physical form, leaving him in a relaxed state of sedation. The smoke from the pyre began to shift, as if it was it’s own entity, swirling and distorting, smoke rings often floating within the air like a lone music note held unto it’s utter climax in which it would finally dissipate, leaving the stage for yet another in its wake. Soon colors saturated his vision, the orange hues of the pyre warming earning the unaltered focus of the drum-playing uruk, it was almost as if he played for the flame itself, as it formed to /dance/ with the wind that coincidentally would pick up as the drumming grew more intense.. Eventually - the uruk realized the otherwise silent audience that was the forest around him, was hushed no longer, beneath the echoed drums, crackling pyre and whistling wind, was a soft hum radiating from the trees, plants and fungi spread throughout, such a sound played in well with the feeling of utter static which had consumed him from the stomach down, as if his own vessel spoke back to the whispering jungle. Before he the orc could take in his surroundings, he began to notice fractals forming upon his beige hide, showing themselves where the moon and fire shed light, changing in unfathomable ways, getting smaller and smaller, larger and larger not one shape was alike, and not one shape was anything he had before encountered. Finally, a faint ringing began to fluctuate around the uruk, one which he felt within his horned skull.. The pyre began to change yet again.. Though this time, not in sync with the drumming which the uruk had somehow fought to maintain throughout this state of altered consciousness. Beneath the pyre within the dirt sat a stone bowl of scarlet ichor, which he had drained in offering from his very form, to accompany the gift of flesh from those slain and left within the pyre as fuel alongside the now charred oak and marrow. The blood began to bubble whilst it’s shade deepend, and whilst the uruk seemed unphased, a cold chill came over his spine, nearly halting his playing.. Although, as to ward off those he did not seek to entertain, he kept on for instinctual survival. Soon, the pyre had began to fade, leaving only orange coals in its absence, one’s which flickered and distorted similarly to the fractals upon his arm.. Which - he had finally realized, were not constrained to just his body and the remnant pyre, but now - they were displayed all upon the observable landscape.. And whilst this was something to leave him within awe alone.. His calls were finally received.. Something seemed to rise from the bowl, mixing within the less violent smoke rolling from the vanquished bonfire, more distorted than the shapes which warped his very reality.. But soon it became clear, as if his eyes were opened by the entity.. whom revealed itself; A figure now stood before him, phantasmal and unbound, manifesting in place of the stone bowl, a familiar uruk stood before the overwhelmed. Above this orcish brute’s image was a rhino, one missing an eye, not unalike the uruk it towered behind. The drum playing Uruk (Ixula) lifted focus now unto the figure, ceasing his playing finally.. It was now he was truly frozen, unable to speak nor think freely, it was when realization came, that he understood who had displayed the omens and every bone within his body were consumed with simultaneous dread and shame. Tears welled within the eyes of the weakened uruk began to drip down his tan skin, recognition sprayed amongst his scarred and grizzly visage. His own father - long since fallen, stood now before his offspring, with a cold, disappointed and yet - plainly stare, one sharp enough to make any child drop this head. His father was a beast of the Horde, having fought his way through Vailor and beyond - losing an arm in battle for his clansmen of Braduk, whilst too bringing valorous honor unto both his Braduk, and Dom ancestors, even if not simultaneously doing so. He had given an eye unto the spirit of Ixli for forbidden knowledge, bled himself to near death for Enrohk and slain hundreds of drui’ in the name of Leyd, this brute had accomplished much, even if unblessed by the rest of the spirits for his disobedience - this uruk was everything that embodied the pride, yet restraint, dominance yet honor, that every orckin sought after. And so his failure was immense, to be the son of a great orc, with nothing accomplished for himself, two centuries had been his thus far allowed existence, horns sprouted from his cranium, and yet still - no honor nor greatness deserving of such a crown. Tears continued, whilst words remained choked upon - all which he could muster, was a broken and scratchy - “Popa..” limbs far too heavy to lift from the goat-skinned drums, his spine locked up and leaving him beneath his superior ancestor, whom finally spoke.. “Weak..this is what they say.. Your brothers have died outside the walls fighting for honor, whilst you’d prefer to rot from within them.. Do not call unto me if you do not seek change.” The spirit spat out, pacing now around his son, the image of the rhino following. “You bleed not fire, but instead lard, you grow fat and lazy, leaving your bloodlust to control you, whilst your slaves do your labors.. Be this the way of the orc?” The spirit shook his head at his own question, extending his blade-arm out to the chin of his successor, one which - while immaterial, felt colder than the night-air which bit down upon the unmoving uruk’s flesh. “You are Ikrizh, born of blood and ire, made to conquer and sustain, your honor is your shield, and your wisdom your sword, and yet you’ve replaced it for the warbow which is your bloodlust, hiding behind the walls, whilst allowing luck to place your shots fatally upon the enemy.. And yet you are no Lur who masters the art of such weaponry, you are a pig with an elf’s toy, and be it as it must - it has weakened you..” “I am all things you can be, and yet none of them. This is your doing, your failure, but too is it your redemption - I was conquered in the end, half a millennia of war with the immortals left me free to their lies, I consumed their lessers like you do cactus, and it began to take my strength, and my sanity.. This is not your path.” He called now, standing before his son with a small pile of charred bone procured from the pyre. “You are to grow past this, we live not to honor the immortals, but to unite our ancestors for union, hear throat bound songs, feel the heartbeat of their drums, and do not lower yourself to them, for we are ORCS, and bow to none but our own curse if allowed to consume our very being.. You will praise none but those who walked the path before you, they will show you the path to honor, they will reawaken all that has been lulled into slumber, and your senses with it - shall return, you will not forget the ways of Kulgarok that I have taught you, the druids will one day know of your strength, and soon after the spirits, immortal and ancestral, will know your truth, even if the former ensures nothing but turmoil in its wake..” The bone turned to ash then, blowing off in the wind.. “You will sacrifice your slaves, and begin.. Call unto Ixli for the wisdom a final time, grant him an eye, for even a small glimpse of their wisdom is costly, after this - every honorful kill will be given unto Leyd or the ancestors, you will not bow to none other, and be you to disobey - you will die long before your horns kill you from the inside out.” “Your fire shall burn longer with each honorific trait upheld, every heart offered, and through the scars you gain, you will display truth, you will become a mural of strength and valor through them, and use them as experience to avoid your next meet with Kor, do not fail me kub.” The orc finally ceased - old blah rang through the younger’s mind like water from a stream, he had only grasped it’s meaning from his upbringing, but held onto such teachings so that he could forever understand and speak to his ancestors - even when such words are not returned. Ixula now knew his purpose, freed from dishonor for a final time, he would begin to consume the knowledge his father once did.. Leaving his pyre after his senses returned.. The uruk began, knowing watchful eyes were held unto him at all times.