Ancestor of Old

[Rhonya]

Red dust flew up around the paws of the large wolf running at high speed through the Barrens. Rhonya was holding on, for now, but the expression on her face betrayed the pain she was in. Riding Keren all the way from Razor Hill to the harpy woods in the neighbouring lands with her bruised and cracked ribs had really not been a good idea. But what choice did she have?
Sadoks face re-appeared before her mind’s eye. Thin, sunken eyes, a face she hadn’t even recognized at first and she had seen him in a lot of horrible conditions through the years. None as bad as this. His very essence, his very soul was withering away and it broke her heart. She’d been shocked to see him in that state, mainly also because it had been unexpected.

She’d gone to the water for some privacy to change her bandages, but she hadn’t expected to find the water moving when she looked down into it, shaping slowly into the reflection of a face looking back at her. And not her own reflection.
Sadok had even sounded different. Gone was the mostly jovial and joking personality. This had been … a shade. A shade of his former self, barely anything left of him anymore. He even appeared to get distracted easily, as if his mind wasn’t fully there, his thoughts disappearing, going into memories of the past.

He wasn’t on the Eternal Planes. He was in an empty world, a reflection of a world, an abandoned world. And he was slipping away. Disappearing. Together they discussed what might’ve caused this abnormality, what caused his spirit to be thrown someplace else.
Eventually they remembered the Sceptre. The artefact that he had been holding that day, that saved the cubs and Sukeenah, but cost him his own life as he couldn’t move away from the onslaught, couldn’t avoid the entire building collapsing on him when he ran out of energy to fuel the sceptre that was protecting him but also killing him at the same time.

The only one who could answer things about the Sceptre though, was its original maker and owner. An orc, Ancestor of the Red Blade clan.
And he was one of the most difficult to work with.

The woods came into view. Rhonya steered Keren in the direction of one particular tree before she left the wolf, climbing off the saddle with a painful grunt. Her chest was on fire, pain searing white hot with every breath, but she needed to do this.
She didn’t have much to work with right now, but the most important thing she needed was right there.
Rhonya softly placed her hand against one of the trees, closing her eyes to focus. The earth below the tree roots started to move, pushing something up. It looked like a long, spiked mace. Nothing special. But she knew better than that.
She prepared a bowl of incense and sat herself down in front of the sceptre.
It was time for some improvisation.

"Right-.. Ghrm. " Rhonya cleared her throat gently before closing her eyes once more.
"Mruthgor, Shaman King. Oh high and mighty spirit, honoured ancestor, I beg for your attention. I kneel before your Sceptre, before you, to ask for your aid, your guidance. Only someone as amazing as you can aid me, Shaman King."
Maybe a little thick on the compliments.. but if she remembered well, that's what he enjoyed hearing. It was worth a try? She focused entirely on the sceptre in front of her, of the connection it probably still had to the previous owner of the damned thing.

It didn’t take long, as she expected. A brilliant blue light flashed and the image of the Ancestor appeared inside of it. He pointed at her with a potent finger, his booming voice letting out a lengthy boast as was common among the great warriors of Old Draenor.

“I AM IMPORTANT, I AM MIGHTY. THE VALIANT ORC WHO HAS NO EQUAL AMONG THE WARLORDS OF THE FOUR QUARTERS OF THE WORLD.
THE WONDERFUL SHEPHERD WHO IS NOT AFRAID OF BATTLE. THE GREAT FLOOD WHICH NONE CAN OPPOSE. THE SHAMAN-KING WHO MAKES THOSE WHO ARE NOT SUBJECT TO HIM SUBMISSIVE. THE GREAT WARRIOR WHO TREADS ON THE NECK OF HIS ENEMIES, TRAMPLES DOWN ALL FOES, AND SHATTERS THEIR ARMIES.

THE SHAMAN-KING WHO RULES WITH THE SUPPORT OF THE GREAT SPIRIT-GODS, WHO COMMANDS SUPPORT FROM ALL LANDS, WHOSE HAND HAS CONQUERED CREATURES OF THE ICY MOUNTAINS AND THE SEAS, FASHIONED THEM IN WHITE LIMESTONE AND ALABASTER, AND PLACED THEM AT MY GATES. I HAVE ADORNED MY SETTLEMENT OF KRAAG’GOL, AND MADE IT GLORIOUS.
I HAVE TRANSCENDED DEATH, AND I GO WHERE I PLEASE AMONG THE LANDS OF THE LIVING AND THE LANDS OF THE DEAD.
I AM MRUTHGOR, THE CELEBRATED SHAMAN-KING. WHO DARES SUMMON ME?"

Rhonya kept her head bowed low while he spoke, though there was a little tired frown on her face. She’d forgotten how bad it was with him. She needed his help though, so time for some acting. She wouldn’t let him see how much pain she was in, how direly she needed his help. She’d just play along. And get him to give her what she wanted. Hopefully.

She realised she had tuned him out a little and he was done speaking, looking down at her expectantly. Oh, right, he had asked who she was.
"Eh-.. Oh mighty Shaman King, I am but your humble servant, in need of aid. My name is Rhonya Steelheart, we met before, though I am by no means important enough to be remembered. But perhaps your brilliant mind can still call upon the memory. "

Mruthgor scratched his chin, before nodding.

"I DO NOT FORGET MY FAITHFUL SERVANTS. I AM THE ORC THAT DOES NOT FORGET. MY MEMORY IS RENOWNED AMONG ORCS. I AM MRUTHGOR THE GREAT, MRUTHGOR WHOSE MEMORY STRETCHES BACK AEONS UNTO THE FOUNDING OF THE WORLD, WHERE SPIRITS AND FURIES SHARED THE LAND WITH MORTALS."
He continued.
"WHAT IS IT YOU REQUEST OF THE MIGHTY SHAMAN-KING, HE WHOSE ABILITY IS GREATER THAN ALL OTHERS?"

"I am humbled you remember me, mighty Shaman king."  Rhonya bowed her head a little deeper, suppressing a hiss of pain. Keep up the act. Even if it's entirely humiliating.
"As you can see, I have your sceptre here. Against our will, it has been.. activated in the past, causing Sadok Sharptongue to get stuck and eventually be crushed by rubble. Entirely his own fault of course, but now his spirit appears to be stuck between plains. I sit here before you to ask you for any aid with this. "

Mruthgor heared Rhonya's words with an attentive if patronising expression, then he laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. HOHOHOHOHOHO. FOOLS! FOOLS.
DID YOU NOT HEED THE WARNING? DID YOU NOT HEED THE WORDS OF MRUTHGOR THE CELEBRATED, MRUTHGOR THE VENERATED, MRUTHGOR THE WISE? DID YOU NOT LISTEN WELL TO HE WHO COMES FROM THE MISTS: THE MISTS OF TIME, OF LEGEND OF MYTH. HE WOULD COMES FROM BARREN LANDS OF ICE AND SNOW, TOO ARDUOUS FOR ANY OTHER CLAN. A PLACE WHERE THE MIGHTY FIRES OF MY GREATHALL, DEN OF THE WOLF CLAWS, BURN LONG INTO THE FREEZING NIGHT.

HARK NOW AS I REPEAT WHAT WAS SAID TWENTY-ONE SEASONS PAST, FOR THE BENEFIT OF THOSE THAT WOULD NOT AND COULD NOT LISTEN, SUCH AS THE SMALL-MINDED SHARPTONGUE.
IN MY MANY FRUITFUL YEARS AS CHIEFTAIN AND MIGHTY SHAMAN-KING, MY TALENT AND POWER OVER THE SPIRIT-GODS HAD BROUGHT MANY BOONS TO MY CLAN. LO, HOW THIS POWER BROUGHT THE THUR-RUK ORACLES TO END THE LINE OF THE WOLFKINGS WHEN GRUTHGAR THE RAGGED PASSED WITHOUT HEIR.

YET AFTER MANY YEARS OF WALKING AMONG THE SPIRITS, A COST HAD BEEN EXACTED. A COST THAT EVEN THE GREAT MRUTHGOR THE SHAMAN-KING, CHAMPION AND GENERALLY EXCELLENT PERSON MUST PAY. SO THAT IT WAS WITH AGE AND STRIFE THAT MY SPIRITUAL COMMUNION BECAME UNFOCUSED AND FRAGMENTED. YET I WOULD NOT ALLOW THE SOURCE OF MY POWER TO SLIP FROM MY MIGHTY CLAWS, THE POWERFUL CLAWS OF THE SHAMAN-KING, HE WHOSE CLAWS ARE GREATER THAN ANY OTHER CLAWS IN ALL MANNER OF CLAWLIKE THINGS.

INSTEAD SO IT CAME TO PASS THAT THE THUR-RUK ORACLES PLEDGED THEIR POWER TO MINE, EACH PLACING A PORTION OF THEIR SOUL WIRTHIN THE SCEPTRE OF THE SHAMAN-KING, THE GREAT AND POTENT WEAPON THAT YOU HAVE LAID BEFORE YOU, A WEAPON THAT HAS LAID WASTE TO ARMIES BEYOND YOUR RECKONING. WITH THIS SACRIFICE MY FORMER POWER WAS RESTORED AND I CONTINUED TO RULE CLAN REDBLADE WITH HONOR, WISDOM AND STRENGTH. TRULY I AM AS HONORABLE, WISE AND STRONG NOW AS I WAS THEN, AND EVER WILL BE."

Rhonya tried to keep listening, a large frown on her face. She had to shift her hand to help herself keep her balance, placing it in front of her on the ground while trying to make it look as if she was still humbly paying attention while he kept talking.

“AS I PASSED UNTO THE REALM OF SPIRITS, THIS MIGHTY WEAPON WAS KEPT AS AN HEIRLOOM OF CLAN REDBLADE, THOUGH NONE COULD WIELD IT -- FOR NONE ARE THE EQUAL OF MRUTHGOR THE SHAMAN-KING, HE WHO IS MIGHTY IN ALL WAYS. YET FOLLOWING THE TREACHERY OF AKESH THE POISONER, STONEBROWBANE AND LEGION SNAKE, IT FELL BEYOND THE RECKONING OF MORTALS AND SOON INTO THE HANDS OF THE TWILIGHT'S HAMMER CULT.

TRULY THEN I HEARD THE SPIRIT-GODS CALL OUT WITH A VENGEANCE, WITH PAIN AND WITH ANGER. THEY CURSED THE SCEPTRE, CURSED THE SHAMAN-KING, CURSED CLAN REDBLADE AND ALL OF ITS DESCENDENTS. THESE DARL FPRCES PERVERTED ITS INTENT TO CALL UPON THE SPIRITS AND INSTEAD SHACKLE THEM INTO SERVICE, A TRULY DEPLORABLE ACT (THOUGH MRUTHGOR IS OF COURSE POWERFUL ENOUGH TO DO SO IF HE WANTED, HONOR FORBIDS HIM EXERCISING THIS GREAT POWER).

LO, THOUGH THE SCEPTRE WAS RECOVERED, IT WAS NOT PURIFIED. LO, THOUGH IT ENTERED INTO THE SAFEKEEPING OF HONORABLE ORCS, IT REMAINED A DISHONORED WEAPON DEDICATED TO A GREAT EVIL. SO THAT IT WAS WHEN THE ONE YOU CALL SADOK WAS IN MORTAL PERIL, THE WEAPON SEIZED UPON HIM AND ENSNARED HIS VERY SOUL. YES, THE SHAMAN-KING HAS KNOWN THIS, THOUGH NONE WOULD ASK HIM. HOW FORGOTTEN THE GREAT MRUTHGOR IS BY THE CHILDREN OF REDBLADE, HOW ASHAMED THEY MUST FEEL.

SO, THIS IS YOUR BIND. YOU HOLD BEFORE YOU A SCEPTRE CONTAINING THE SOUL OF THE ONE YOU SEEK TO SAVE, WHICH THE WEAPON HAS CONSUMED SLOWLY. IF YOU WISH TO SAVE WHAT REMAINS, THE SCEPTRE MUST BE CONSECRATED. IF YOU WISH YOU DESTROY THE WEAPON, SO TO WILL YOU DESTROY THE SOUL WITHIN. THE CHOICE IS YOURS."
Mruthgor nods mightily.
"MRUTHGOR HOPES YOU HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION. THE MIGHTY SHAMAN-KING WILL NOT REPEAT HIMSELF AGAIN."

Rhonya looked somewhat impressed when he finished talking. She had a great urge to tell him what she really thought of him, but.. he was still an Ancestor and she needed his help. So she’d play her part. Like an obedient little shaman.

"I heard you and I will remember, mighty Shaman King. And I ask you now, because I didn't know about this curse. I apologize if you had to tell the clan this before already. We'll try to do better." She winced a short moment, inhaling with a sharp hiss before continuing.
"Pray, do tell me, how does one ..consecrate such a mighty object?"

Mruthgor looked down at Rhonya as if she was the stupidest person alive.
"HOW DO YOU CONSECRATE A CORRUPTED OBJECT? ARE YOU NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A SAGE OF YOUR CLAN, COUNCIL IN MATTERS OF THE SPIRITS? TRULY, HOW STANDARDS HAVE FALLEN IN THE MANY YEARS SINCE MRUTHGOR THE MIGHTY SHAMAN-KING TRANSCENDED MORTALITY.
YOU MUST ANOINT A VESSEL OF CLEANSING WATERS BLESSED BY THE ELEMENTAL SPIRIT-GODS OF THE ABYSSAL MAW. YOU MUST PREPARE A WHITE FLAME OF PURITY BY SEEKING THE APPROVAL OF THE ELEMENTAL SPIRIT-GODS OF THE FIRELANDS. YOU MUST CRAFT A STICK OF INCENSE AMONG THE FOUR WINDS ATOP A MOUNTAIN-PEAK, BLESSED BY THE SPIRIT-GODS OF THE SKYWALL. YOU MUST GATHER SOIL FROM THE TWO ENDS OF THE EARTH, HALLOWED BY THE BLESSING OF THE SPIRIT-GODS OF THE DEEPHOLM.

BATHE THE SCEPTER IN THE WATERS OF THE VESSEL AND PRONOUNCE THE WORDS 'AQUA, EGO EXCITO ELE.' PASS THE SCEPTER OVER THE WHITE FLAME. 'IGNEM, EGO EXCITO ELE." PASS IT OVER THE RISING SMOKE OF THE INCENSE STICK. “VENTUS, EGO EXCITO ELE.” AND BURY IT WITHIN THE SOIL OF PURITY. “TERRA, EGO EXCITO ELE.”
FINALLY, TAKE THE SCEPTER IN BOTH HANDS AND RECITE THE FOLLOWING WORDS SEVEN TIMES: "I CONSECRATE THIS WEAPON BY THE POWERS OF THE FOUR ELEMENTS AND THE SPIRITS THAT BIND THEM. MAY THE SPIRIT-GODS WITNESS THIS HALLOWING OF ITS MATTER -- IN MY HANDS SHALL IT SERVE TO WEAVE THE POWERS OF THE SPIRITS. AS I WILL IT SO IT SHALL BE."
YES, THE SCEPTER’S POWER WILL BE MADE ANEW AND YOU MIGHT RELEASE THE SOUL WITHIN, TO ITS FINAL REST IN THE ETERNAL PLAINS.

MRUTHGOR THE SHAMAN-KING HOPES HE HAS BEEN SUITABLY CLEAR ABOUT THIS MOST SIMPLE OF RITUALS."

Rhonya now did look up at him, blinking. Surprised. She opened her mouth a little, but didn’t find the words at first.
"Eh-... What? I'm sorry, but that's.. not simple at all. There is no other way?"
For a moment forgotten that she was supposed to be humble and submissive, a light expression of anger crossed over her face.

Mruthgor stared down Rhonya, an unimpressed expression beneath his ancient wolfmask.
"FOR A RITUALIST AS POWERFUL AND KNOWLEDGABLE AS MRUTHGOR THE CELEBRATED SHAMAN-KING, TRULY IS IT SIMPLE. YET WHAT IS SIMPLE IS NEITHER EASY NOR FAST. YOU MUST DECIDE WHETHER YOU WILL CLEANSE THE SCEPTRE AND FREE THE SOUL OF THE ONE ENSNARED WITHIN, OR TO SIMPLY DESTROY IT AND WITH IT DESTROY THE SOUL. THE CHOICE IS YOURS, FOR THE SHAMAN-KING MAY COUNSEL BUT IT IS FOR MERE MORTALS TO ACT."

"I can't.. get to all those places you mentioned, as ... mere mortal. Someone as powerful as you must be able to help me, no?"
She could try, at the very least..
"I am but a mere mortal, after all." Rhonya said softly, lowering her head a bit more.

Mruthgor laughed.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. HOHOHOHOHOHOHO. DO YOU THINK MRUTHGOR THE SHAMAN-KING IS SO EASILY SWAYED BY THE BASEST FLATTERY?"
He snorted.
"A FAVOR FOR A FAVOR THEN. I WILL USE MY GREAT POWER TO ACQUIRE THE ITEMS YOU REQUIRE FOR THIS RITUAL, BUT YOU MUST DO SOMETHING FOR ME."

Rhonya sighed softly, grumbling to herself before answering: "Favor for a favor. The great Shaman King is very generous. What would you ask of me, Mruthgor the almighty?"

"I AM DISAPPOINTED AND DISHEARTENED THAT SO FEW ORCS OF CLAN REDBLADE HONOR OR CALL UPON THE GREAT MRUTHGOR THE SHAMAN-KING. IT IS A GREAT INSULT TO BE IGNORED. MRUTHGOR DEMANDS RECOGNITION. YOU WILL HOLD AN EVENING'S CELEBRATION AMONG THE CLAN IN HONOR OF MRUTHGOR, WHERE STORIES WILL BE TOLD, ALE WILL FLOW AND ALL WILL PAY TRIBUTE TO THE GREATEST OF SPIRIT-WALKERS.

MRUTHGOR WILL BE WAITING AND WATCHING. WHEN THE EVENING'S FESTIVITIES HAVE CONCLUDED, AND IF THE MIGHTY SHAMAN-KING IS SATISFIED, YOU WILL FIND EVERYTHING YOU REQUIRE FOR THE CONSECRATION WITHIN YOUR VERY HOME. SUCH IS MY POWER."
Mruthgor nodded grimly. He was clearly very serious about this.

Rhonya noded slightly. Well, what else had she expected.
".. I can do this. Very well, you have a deal, oh Almighty Mruthgor. I will hold to my end of it and I expect you to hold to yours then."

Mruthgor returned her nod, more firmly.
"MRUTHGOR THE CELEBRATED SHAMAN-KING ALWAYS HONORS A BARGAIN. WHEN THE CLAN'S VOICES ARE UNITED IN PRAISE FOR MRUTHGOR, YOU WILL HAVE WHAT YOU NEED. THIS WILL MY COVENANT, AND MY SWORN WORD."
He stared Rhonya down, folding his arms.
"WILL THIS BE ALL? MRUTHGOR'S TIME IS VERY VALUABLE."

"Wonderful.. That will be all, mighty Shaman King. I thank you for the time you spend on this humble shaman, and I will honour your memory together with the clan."
She just puts her head almost on the ground now, again suppressing a grunt of pain. She could barely focus now, the pain in her ribs making her see black spots before her eyes.

"EXCELLENT. FOR THE BLOOD OF CLAN REDBLADE. FOR MRUTHGOR THE SHAMAN-KING. FOR ME."
Mruthgor's bright spectral form faded away in a matter of moments, leaving Rhonya alone in the dark.

She fell over instantly when he was gone, wrapping her arms around her chest.
A party… Very well. If she had to do this.. All that she had to make the orcs do was eat, drink, tell some stories and raise their tankard in his honour.
She really really hoped he would keep his end of the promise. Deals with spirits were often rather risky. But she needed to help Sadok.
And thus, she got back upon her feet slowly, made sure the Sceptre was hidden again, and started her trip back to Razor Hill, the pain in her chest a constant fire burning.
Time to plan a party.



((I applaud all of you who actually read this all through.))

[Okiba]

Ha!

...well, that's Mruthgor for you.

Still think you should of threatened him with a spiritual elbow-drop from Krogon.

Oh well.

[Rashka]

I find this Shaman king mightily amusing x'D Gosh XD

[Tarkah]

What really tickles me about this is how his textwall speeches are made up.
You have all the bombastic, over the top self-aggrandizement, but then you come across the things like:

IN ALL MANNER OF CLAWLIKE THINGS

POWERFUL ENOUGH TO DO SO IF HE WANTED

MRUTHGOR HOPES YOU HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION

HOPES HE HAS BEEN SUITABLY CLEAR

Where you can more or less see him fold his arms and nod oh-so importantly to himself xD The humour-contrast is hilarious.

[Rashka]

What really tickles me about this is how his textwall speeches are made up.
You have all the bombastic, over the top self-aggrandizement, but then you come across the things like:

IN ALL MANNER OF CLAWLIKE THINGS

POWERFUL ENOUGH TO DO SO IF HE WANTED

MRUTHGOR HOPES YOU HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION

HOPES HE HAS BEEN SUITABLY CLEAR

Where you can more or less see him fold his arms and nod oh-so importantly to himself xD The humour-contrast is hilarious.

Exactly this! it is the way of our beloved Sadok RP you've yet to see. xD

[Kozgugore]

#NotMyShamanKing