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Post by pigdish on Feb 26, 2008 8:41:01 GMT -5
The party stood outside the sinkhole created by the destruction of the ancient tower and the spell battery made sentient by the energies of the Orc artifact.
Solinar had departed the party riding high into the skies, on the back of the Wyrm, like a blazing golden/white comet.
Grimgard Thistleback now simply called "Tusk", formerly known as Gizgard, stood in somewhat disbelief at the object he held in his large clawed hands. Picking up the sand to wash the grime from his hands he thought to himself, "This will be the last time my hands will be clean. Soon these hands will be covered in blood, the blood of my brothers." Tusk sighed deeply at the prospect that lay before him. But that was the way of his people and tradition was a cornerstone of their beliefs.
The two black scaled orcs were even more vigilant in their protection of Tusk. Their sounds of submission and reverence for him filled the air. Shakti was more verbal than his comrades.
"You have done well master. In your hands you hold the link to the past and a means to forge the future for your people. Dark times lie ahead for us now as many dangers shall seek your destruction. But know that we the first bonded shall defend you until we have no life left within our worthless bodies. Even after our bodies fall lifeless we are sworn to you my Chief." Shakti salutes Tusk and prostrates himself before him and the two black scaled orcs follow suit.
Shakti's words fill Tusk with honor and steels his determination for what he must do.
"Me has to visit the Orcs we meet before comin' here. Me not ask any of ju to come but ju welcome if ju decide to come." Tusk says to the party.
Without even saying Shakti begins to transform into the huge battle-plated creature to carry his master. At the end of the transformation Shakti raises his massive head to the skies, the 15 foot long tusks extending outward, the armor plated trunk curled into a U shape. The horrid sound it belched forth was like none other. It placed fear in the hearts of those around it and it was a herald for the coming of the Warchief.
The warriors of the tribe were alerted to their approach hours before the tribe settlement could be seen. The orc scouts had been watching the party headed by the fearsome creature that rode at the head.
At the outskirts of the tribe's settlements, the guards met the party. "Lum-ok Tur!" The darker and largest of the orcs spoke the traditional greeting to Tusk. The black scaled orcs took up defensive positions on either side of Shakti, their weapons at the ready.
"Shi Lum-ok muk-Tur!" Tusk replied back. The guards turned and led the party into the tent settlement. At the center there raged a massive bonfire. Twenty women tended to rows of butchered animals roasting on the fires. Others busied about decorating and making preparations for a celebration.
"Ju stay thar." The muscular orc guard pointed at a tent for Tusk. "Others stay thar." He pointed at another tent. "All wait until..." Tusk interrupted the orc.
"Me knows the rituals. Now go!" The orc sneered and left Tusk at his large triangular tent. "All of ju must stay in yer tent. If ju seen outside penalty is death." Tusk states flatly and enters his tent.
One black scaled orc took a position at the entrance to the tent. The other marched mechanically around the tent. Shakti entered the tent with Tusk.
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Post by pigdish on Feb 26, 2008 12:17:04 GMT -5
Several hours later the party is summoned out of their tent. Feeling more than restless they are anxious to find out what all the hullabaloo is about.
The scene before them is beautiful in its primal sense. The raging bonfire casts a bloody orange hue upon everything. The ground is covered with turmeric powder with pictures and symbols drawn with various other colored powders. The air smells of rendered fat, burning wood, and meat. The sounds of beating drums and some type of flute mingled with the yelping, screeching sounds of singing fills the air also.
On the far side of the bonfire sits the Chief of the tribe dressed in what would appear to be formal regalia. There are feathers of different colors, finely carved bones, skulls of different races and species, his face and exposed body parts are painted with simple patterns. In his hand he holds a large black spear. Near the blade there are tied four feathers and two small bones. The Chief's old face reveals no emotion as the dark eyes stare off into the dancing flames of the fire.
The party is taken to a place to sit, away from the Chief, and served a drink that smells worse than a rotting carcass. The taste is even worse than the stench.
"Drink Urgona-url, it gud make ju strong." The young orc serving the drink says to the party members.
The music and chanting suddenly stops and all eyes turn upon Tusk's tent. The black scaled orc standing guards open the tent flaps aside and out steps Shakti which brings a gasp from everyone. He is wearing only a loin cloth and his entire body is covered in a bright blue color. His chest is adorned with strange symbols in between the grotesque metal plates embedded in his flesh. Upon his massive shoulders is the head not of an orc but that of an elephant. The large ears pierced with sharpened teardrop earrings running around the perimeter of each ear. His large yellowed ivory tusks are tipped with gold and silver. His massive trunk is plated which he raises high bellowing a fearful sound. As he walks towards the party the ground vibrates with each pounding step. He soon reaches a place near the party and drops to his knees, his forehead touching the ground.
As soon as Shakti takes his place a guttural roar comes from Tusk's tent. He steps out without any armour, dressed plainly except for the few adornments to his face and chest. The patterns are plain and the colors subdued. In the nightly glow the blue visage of the spirits surrounding him can be seen. It is so quiet that those near him can hear the moaning coming from the spirits. In his hands he holds a cruel looking Halberd. The haft crumbles and reforms in his massive clawed hands. His two grey eyes focused. Tusk takes a step and with each step he seems to grow larger until he reaches the point where Shakti is prostrated and it is obvious that it was not a trick of the light. Tusk stands a huge bulk of supernatural power.
Tusk bows to the Chief and sits down on his knees and the balls of his feet.
"Hey big guy what's this celebration about? Are we heroes for what we did at the Black Tower?" Aramil whispers to Tusk.
There stood a young orc next to the Chief and he moved forward and spoke.
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Post by pigdish on Feb 26, 2008 17:58:22 GMT -5
((Please feel free to add to the narrative. I didn't want to burden others from having to post but those of you that want to add your thoughts are greatly appreciated.))
The young warrior was known as Turmog the Bloodhound. He was the son of Chief Murmog Keenwatcher and renowned in the tribe for his tracking ability. He was also the first of ten sons of Chief Murmog.
Turmog's hard face looked at Aramil as he whispered to Tusk. Thankfully Tusk knew not to respond at such a time.
"This night we rejoice for what is to come at the first light of tomorrow's day. The challenge has been presented and by tribal law our great Chief is bound to accept. But hear my words spirits of our ancestors. I give you my life to see my father, the chief of our tribe, defeat this...this...stranger who claims to be the Yazil'huk Makthazar and claims to wield Glorskut the greatest weapon of Orcish legends. So it is that we have this gathering to honor our Chief and the defeat of the one called Tusk." The rest of the tribesman roared in unison and the music, chanting, and dancing began once again.
Tusk turned to Aramil. "Now ju cin speak. Please do not intervene in tribal matters or ju will not live to tell the tale."
Tusk turned his massive head back towards the fire and sat there unmoving. No food or drink was offered to him nor his three guardians. Shakti was unflinching in his prostrated position until it was time to prepare for the contest.
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Post by Davey on Feb 26, 2008 20:26:57 GMT -5
Aramil recognizes the look that was given to him and waits until an appropriate time to begin speaking. When the time is right he says to no one in particular, "They really do stand on ceremony around here. Are we going to eat or do we go without? -I'm thirsty." -Aramil looks around the camp at all the celebration and feels left out. Aramil then tries to flag down one of the servers and get some food and drynke. After he finds some nourishment he begins to speak to some of the orcs to gain some general information and insight as to who is favored in the fight.
Gather information: [dice=20]+17=39 [rand=84031997376298417644101204731089876044577913560812353428634163005]
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Post by pigdish on Feb 26, 2008 21:48:59 GMT -5
A beautifully powerful Orc female comes up to Aramil and offers him a bowl full of the foul smelling brew Urgona-url. The female eyes Aramil playfully looking at his powerful build.
The pre-dawn air was cold. Word has already begun to spread that life was returning to the Dead Lands. There were whispers of legends that said the time of the great Warchief would be heralded by the return of the prairies but it was hard to imagine these harsh sandy lands as flowing fields of green.
Everybody from the tribe took their places around the combat area. The War Drums were placed at the four cardinal points. The drummers started the slow beating as the two combatants stood outside of the circle. The tribe shaman enters the sacred war circle and states the rules. There are to be no weapons or use of magic to enhance oneself. If you have natural potions then they shall be permitted. Otherwise the rule is simple: One lives, while the other dies.
The Chief shrugged off the feathered cloak off his massive shoulders. The old orc had the body chiseled from granite. Massive scars and tattoos covered his form as did wrinkles. In his powerful hands he held a worn falchion and a javelin which he handed to his eldest son. He then stepped into the sacred war circle.
Tusk stood before the Chief his body looking hard with bulging muscles and ritual war paint. He took out Glorskut and held it high in the air and stuck the massive halberd in the ground outside the war circle.
I am Tusk the Yazil'huk Makthazar and this is Glorskut. This day your great Chief does me a great honor by accepting this battle. One-Eye I call upon you to bless this battle and make victorious the strongest so that our people may prosper.
With Strength and Honor, by Tooth and Claw do I battle you great Chief.
Come then Tusk, let us see our destinies through. Said the Chief.
Once again Tusk grew larger than he normally was and charged the old chief.
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Post by Davey on Feb 26, 2008 23:17:01 GMT -5
Aramil takes the bowl with an air of repugnance and then smiles to the server and then says in orc-ish, "Thank you. You know, you orcs have such clever names for your drynke. As clever as the name is, it still not palatable for my refined tastebuds. Yet, my curiosity has been aroused. I will taste this beverage and see if it lives up to its name." After fighting to keep the bile from rising out of the back of his throat Aramil now feels warm and tingly.
Drynke in hand, and feeling slightly toasty, Aramil will watch Tusk do battle with the orc chieftain all the while shouting out encouragement, getting drunk, and maybe even a little rowdy.
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Post by soodowyvern on Feb 27, 2008 9:34:52 GMT -5
Knowing or suspecting this is a ritual that the rest of us can not help our friend and companion with, Seamus sits in silences and samples the food and drink that is presented as not to offend their host. Watching and listening as the events that unfold. Keeping an eye on Aramil so he does not over do things and dishonor the group. 'I hope your Elven royal blood and wisdom will kick in and not let you get to wrapped up in the celebrations. We need to keep clear heads at this time.' Seamus thinks to himself.
Also in his thoughts is Amnasphinix. 'Are you able to watch Amna? If you are, I would suggest to watch from a distance and not let yourself be seen. How goes your training?'
Prior to the declaration of personal combat was made by the tribes shaman, Seamus approaches the shaman with a question.
"Great and wise one. I sense there is a trial by combat that is soon to happen. With your permission and if within accordance to your laws, so there is not outside interference within the combat area. I request permission to cast a protective wall of forcer around the combat area once the two have entered." Seamus states in their native tongue and with no foreign accent in his voice. One would have thought he was born Orc.
Seamus stands in silents with his eyes facing the ground, with a slight lean forward, head bowed and palms of his hands facing forward and open. Waiting the Shaman's response. If approved, Seamus will cast wall of force around the two combatants when told to by the Shaman.
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Post by pigdish on Feb 27, 2008 11:32:47 GMT -5
The shaman looks surprised at how well the human spoke the orcish tongue, let alone their dialect.
Your offer is appreciated but it is not permitted for outsiders to intervene in any way. Honor and custom shall prevent any foul play on this day.
Greetings Seamus. I am...working hard on learning the aerial maneuvers that Brightscale is trying to teach me. He seems to become irritable when I do not follow his teachings but he is patient. We dropped off Solinar with the strange Hobgoblins and even with your memories of the events it is odd to me. Arrrrg...dearest I must concentrate, that blast of fire, from Brightscale, was a little too close and I believe it was a warning from him. Also, try to avoid using this means of communication when I am far away unless it is extremely important. The energy necessary to form and maintain this link will be draining on both of us.
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Post by Davey on Feb 27, 2008 12:20:53 GMT -5
Come Seamus, and drink with me. We must toast our friend Tusk. He then raises a bowl of Urgona-Url and toasts, "To Tusk, may One-Eye give you strength and courage!" After which he takes a deep swill of the vile, foul-smelling, disgusting, but undeniably potent beverage.
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Post by pigdish on Feb 27, 2008 12:54:07 GMT -5
Aramil, after you drink three pulls of the foul smelling drought you begin to feel a little strange. You get a cold feeling pass through your body and then you notice the female Orc that has been serving you. You see her as if you are seeing her for the first time and there is a "inner beauty" about her that you hadn't noticed before. Thinking about her you feel a certain pressure in your pants that you hadn't thought of with this new body, although it is your body you remember these feelings to be different.
Your wings unfurl lifting you off the ground and you stagger over to the female orc that has caught your eye.
If you want to resist the intoxication fo the liquor you will need to make a Fortitude save DC 28 for partial drunkenness. Then make a Will save DC 25 to resist hitting on the orc female.
hahaha
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Post by Davey on Feb 27, 2008 13:01:51 GMT -5
You are a cruel, cruel man. Ummm...I don't have my stats in front of me. I'll have to roll after 4 when I get back home. (Then mumbles something about Damn Dragon lust.)
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Post by soodowyvern on Feb 27, 2008 13:23:25 GMT -5
"As you wish. Thank you for hearing me Wise and Great One." Seamus bows slightly lower to the Shaman and then backs away in 4 steps before turning and leaving the Shaman.
As Seamus is returning to his seat, he hears Amna's thoughts. He give one quick reply "Understood" and then sever the link with Amna.
Upon returning to his seat and hearing Aramil's call for a toast, Seamus realizes it is a time to celebrate. To toast Grimgard Thistleback (Gizgard) and now Tusk, comrade and friend. Seamus relaxes his posture and raise a bowl of the Urgona-Url to Aramil's toast and takes a sip.
Taking notice of Aramil's sudden attention for the Orc female, Seamus puts down the Urgona-Url and watches Aramil. Laughing silently to himself. 'This should prove to be amusing.' thinks to himself.
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Post by Davey on Feb 27, 2008 18:32:14 GMT -5
Save vs. drunkeness. Fort: [dice=20]+6=24
Ok. I'm feeling pretty good about now.
Save vs. the tempting orc-ess. (...is there such a thing?) Will: [dice=20]+7=27
-whew. Aramil recognizes the orcess for her 'inner beauty' then a strange thought crosses his mind, but immidately dismisses it as absolute craziness.[rand=898864259178748687098159015548986927471434063377816502236133682]
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Post by pigdish on Feb 27, 2008 19:02:52 GMT -5
That's a nice will save but because you failed the drunkenness check you get a -4 to your Will save. That would bring your total to 23. muhahahahaha!
Aramil you stagger over to the orc female and boldly grab her bulbous ass (picture J Lo). The Orc female turns to look at you and makes a guttural sound. She then begins to attack you with her fists, feet, and anything else she can grab a hold of. She manages to scratch you a few times across the chest and a few gentle swipes at your neck.
Taken aback by the sudden onslaught you defend yourself as best as you can. ((I will leave your actions up to you.))
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Post by Davey on Feb 27, 2008 20:28:18 GMT -5
Aramil is indeed taken 'aback' (har-har) and will fend off the vicious onslaught of the j-lo type orc. And speaking in orcess Aramil will say, "My fair...hic-cup...i must protezt theze forward advanzes of yourz. I admit, I am irrizziztible but this coupling shall not happen."
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