Call of the Shaman-King

[Sadok]

((In preparation for an upcoming focus, the spirit of a past Chieftain, Mruthgor has returned to warn the tribe of a grave danger, reaching out to tribesorcs in their dreams or in lucid visions. Though nobody is under any compulsion to take part, it would be nice to have people willing to RP that they have had one of these dreams (even in a partial or fragmented manner). Those that have experienced a dream might choose to keep it to themselves, discuss it with fellow tribesorcs or go entirely insane and set things on fire. It's all down to the individual character and RPer!))

‘Hark! I come from the mists: the mists of time, of legend, of myth. I come from barren lands of ice and snow, too arduous for any other Clan. A place where the mighty fires of the Greathall... of -my- Greathall burn long into the freezing night. A place where orc and fierce wolf hunt as one in honor of Kraag and Magoth’s accord. A place where orc and wolf become one as a result of my power - the fearsome Varog’Gor.

I return in spirit from the eternal plains to tell the descendants of Clan Redblade of a great evil; one that has gone unknown and unnoticed for too long. Listen now to the words of the Shaman-King, Mruthgor!

In my time as Chieftain of this pack, my natural talent and way with the spirits had brought many boons to my Clan - it was this power that swayed the Clan oracles to end the Line of the Wolfkings.

Yet after decades of spirit-walking a cost had been exacted; my spiritual communion became unfocused and fragmented. I would not allow the source of my power to slip slowly away from me - instead, the oracles pledged their power to mine, each placing some of their power within the Scepter of the Shaman-King. With this sacrifice, much of my former power was restored and I continued to rule Clan Redblade with honor and wisdom.

Following my passing, the scepter was passed from Chieftain to Chieftain - none had the knowledge to unlock its power but it remained an heirloom of past might. Alas, the scepter was lost following the hubris and treachery of Akesh the Poisoner. Its whereabouts remained unknown until now.

I have heard the spirits call out in pain and anger. They curse the scepter, curse the Shaman-King, curse Clan Redblade and all of its descendents. The scepter has emerged in the hands of dark forces who are perverting its original intent to call upon the spirits and shackle them into service. I speak of the descendants of Clan Twilight’s Hammer, but this evil is done in the name of Clan Redblade.

End the suffering. End the dishonor. End this mar on my reputation, and the Shaman-King will reveal long-forgotten knowledge in return.

Haste, I command you!’

[Morgeth]

Shazula awoke with a growl lingering at the back of her throat. Her hand slowly lifted towards her hear, which inside seemed to burn with words that lingered from beyond the spiritual veil. Heaving herself from her simple bedroll, the female orc grabbed a skin of water and washed her face.

The chilling damp upon her features brought few feelings of true enlightenment, however. No, this was not a riddle she would be able to decipher on her own. It was much more serious. The phrases, she could perhaps piece them together, but the meaning of them seemed so dire, and so urgent. This was not a spirit reaching out to her personally; this was tribal.

She would have to seek them out, her brothers and sisters of Red blade, to discuss these visions. Perhaps they, too, would have seen things. They'd solve this together, she was sure of it.

Voicing another grunt, the shaman donned her armour and shield, only to set out into the dawn of the morning. The tribe needed to be told.

[Grekthar]

Grek'thar grunts as he awakes from his sleep in a sudden arisal, looking over at Silversnarl who was sleeping soundly with her pups.

"Odd...definitely odd..." he mused to himself as he tried to recall the dream. The only things that remain in his mind are a sense of urgency and an image of a scepter, a hammer covered in shadows, and a blood dripping blade. The more he tried to recall, the greater the sense of urgency felt. "Right...gotta find the others. Some reason I get the feeling I ain't the only one to have this little visit."

[Izraka]

Izraka wakes, a long, furious growl echoing inside her skull. The young orc finds herself panting heavily, and looking to her side at the rough Barrens dirt, she sees the marks of her own nails clawed there.

This is not unusual.

What is strange to her is the dream. No nightmare, this. Just broken images, and anger, lots of anger.  She remembers the voice of one calling himself a chieftain, but his words mean little to her: ancient days and ancient evils? But.. the Twilight's Hammer. That name has some meaning at least.
Grunting, the orc pulls her rough blanket around her. Dawn is still far off.

[Sadok]

Sadok stirs from his nightly slumbers, his heart pounding fiercely. The world seems to spin around the dazed orc. Struggling to breathe as he places a hand on his chest in pain, he crawls slowly out of his fur-lined hammock and slumps down onto the cool stone floor.

'F-f-feckin' fel... th-th...'

He desperately gasps for air, tugging at the collar of his tunic with one hand. Sadok tries to speak again, clearing his throat with a sickly hoarse cough. '...Shaman-King', the Thur'ruk weakly croaks.

Sliding fully onto the stone floor and curling up into himself, Sadok drifted off quickly into a troubled sleep.

[Regorn]

The Sun shined at the top of the small cliff overlooking some huts, morning had just arrived. The air was cold from the night, but the sun was warm

Two Orcs sits at the end of the cliff, both dressed in shamanistic cloth, adoring with trinkets and a wolf head. They don't look at each other, or bother one and an other until one started to speak

"So... I presume you did this? It is a little obvious"
"They asked for it"
"I know, you could not do it a little calmer?"
"You are to easy on them, you think a little bad sleep will kill them?"
"You do know who you are asking?"
"I know, but they got what they asked for"
"I guess you are right about that"

The next moment, it was only dust on the wind left

[Thrash'Nak]

She sat atop the highest tower in the northern barrens, the sun was slowly consuming the tower and casting aside the shadows of the night.
She was meditating preparing, completely at peace, a growl from an unfamilar orc lurked in the wind, her ears flickered, and quickly her lips curled into a snarl as she turned around to grap the stalker only too realise she was alone.
The growl kept lurking in the wind seemingly being troubled too reach her, only fragments of words were thrown through the harsh winds. "Seeessscepter.." it sounded continuesly, trying too reach her. Grogona rose to her feet, closing her eyes trying to listen closely too what the words would say. The words seemed clearer and clearer and in the end it was spoken clearly with an old ancient voice roaming through her head, the tower seemed as too bend and sway side too side as the voice yelled in her head. "THE SHAMAN-KING!!".

She gasped slightly gripping her head, she snarled before returning too her previouse spot. "The fuck is the shaman-king? Hmph bloody.."