[Location] Ire Shamen Caves

Gauls · November 5, 2007, 12:18 PM

Just a pile of rocks to most that walk past the Shamen Caves in the lower southwest corner of the city, none have ever really tried to find out more about them. The caves are a complete mystery except that gossips tell of a cult that resides within them. The leaders (7 of them) are known as the Ash Pargijakun (The Bloodstained Ones).

The gossips say that the Ash Pargijakun and their followers wander around Orckon hooded but faces smeared with blood as a sign of their cult membership. They tell of how the cult is always trying to undermine the Shon Zi, the main religious leaders of Orckon and re-establish the old shamanistic gods the orcs once worshiped before they were subjugated by the Aelyrians and forced to worship the current pentathlon of gods. The Ash Pargijakun are harsh and their followers help carry out many of the punishment games held in the city. They do have a loyal following but none are sure how large this following is. Getting in good favor with this cult could help in long term goals should one have some.

Trying to approach the caves is not easy. Even the goblins have a hard time getting in and out of the caves alive due to the magic that protects them. It is an old magic not seen in the more recent spheres of study. The caves are not visible from the east-to-west approaches and one can only see the mouth of the caves by standing southwest of the rock piles looking northeast. Three cult followers guard the entrance with spears. Their races are not known as they are all hooded and wear gauntlets.

Before you ever see them clearly when approaching the caves, they challenge you.

“What business do you have here?”

Secrets :

Z'kron · November 16, 2007, 10:48 AM

Timestamp: Early cycles of Summer, Current Era
The eyes of the approaching orc were a deep grey-blue, rocky against his face. A sharp piggish nose tapered to a point from underneath his hood, overhanging a thick, brutish jaw with small protruding tusks. The skin of the orc was a deep black-green; a fairly common shade. He was not the type who would stand out from a crowd of his kind, despite a certain bearing of authority. He was leaning roughly on a staff, despite his apparently comfortable youth. At the question, he gave a chuckle, almost amused by the question. His voice answered in guttural orcish; while his stance did not change in the least.
"I am Dromzhol, a practitioner of druid magic. I come to learn to serve the shamans."
He stood still, his robes flapping over his roughly-cut (was it even self cut?) leather armor, which bore enough markings on it for it to be obviously taken from another's corpse. Hand on his staff, he awaited a response.

Gauls · November 16, 2007, 10:22 PM

Z'Kron

The three robed figures came into view as Z'Kron approached the caves on the southwest side of the complex. After their challenge and hearing Z'Kron's reply, they replied with a little skepticism seeing this orc in front of them. In orc society those males that are chosen to be shaman are taken from the harsh life of an orc mob and placed into a clan of female orcs. Here, the shaman will grow up shall we say, in a very feministic lifestyle learning everything counter to what a normal orc male would learn. An orc that lived among females and was "prepared" to become an orc shaman would be easy to spot.

"You are "prepared" to become shaman or you just wish to serve the Ash Pargijakun? What do you have to offer the Ash Pargijakun that they do not already possess?"

The guards are robed so it is hard to tell what race they are but by their speech, it was obvious they were not orc. Anyone that is unbound could sense the great magical forces that encircle the shaman caves. It is an old magic that some of the newer spheres have yet found counter spells for or sometimes unable to sense the source of the magic at all until it affects them personally.

Z'kron · November 18, 2007, 10:17 AM

A snarl; but one without any loss of self control. Eyes flared with dim irritation at the querying. "Tolchar! Dshturak." Words of aggravation, without ever stepping over the line into a direct challenge. His mouth parted into a smile.
"I am a druid of an adept level. That is sufficient power to be of use to almost any. And I am willing to follow in the footsteps to become a shaman, if they deem this acceptable. I chose my lifepath long ago. What is one more sacrifice? Or to serve them in another way, if this is how they choose to make use of me."
A further step forwards, leaning against his staff while maintaining an impassive yet oddly focused expression.
"It should not be a difficult decision."

Gauls · November 19, 2007, 10:23 AM

The robed figures all stood stoic and to any other person would appear to be either ignoring Z'Kron or trying to think of something to say but to a mage, it could be sensed that the three are communicating telepathically. Though Z'Kron could possibly "sense" they are talking to one another, he cannot know what is being said without specific training in telepathy.

: Telepathic Communication between the robed figures :
1st : This one is claiming to be druid but I sense something is not true here...
2nd : Yes, I have felt the same. Something is not true...
1st : We must test his faith...
3rd : We must test is path...
: End of Telepathy :

The robed figures have hoods that prohibit seeing their faces but they insist on knowing more about Z'Kron's before they can trust him. They seem pessimistic about letting their guard down.

"If you are druid, what animal spirits do you commune with?"

It seemed like a simple question. To Z'Kron it seems as though they are fishing for something.

Ogrim · April 5, 2008, 07:52 PM

The entrance to the shaman cave was almost a riddle in stone. The portal to the underground was well crafted, hidden amongst a barren façade and it took studious attention to detail to deduce its true location. Ogrim stood to the northeast of the caves entrance and proceeded toward them in an effort to gain an audience with the inhabitants of the subterranean structure.

The current mob leader of the Skull Hammer Clan was careful to make sure he was not followed by those that thought his behavior was not in the best interest of Orckon. The Ash Pargijakun were tolerated dissidents at best. Common knowledge was that they railed against the current religious leadership of Orckon and plotted its downfall relentlessly. The sought to bring the old ways back to the orc population, before the Aelyrians and Aeternians were foisted upon the race and their original culture relegated to the past. Ogrim could appreciate the willingness to return to the old ways, he too was on a journey of a similar vein and his seeking an audience with the practitioners of the old ways was part of it. When asked what he was doing at the entrance to the shaman caves, Ogrim answered simply, but truthfully.

”I seek da strength from inside, I seek da old ways.”

Gauls · April 5, 2008, 09:22 PM

Ogrim

The hooded figures looked to one another a bit taken back by what Ogrim was asking. Their usual visitors are here to ask for favors of the cult or trying to get something for free. This orc seemed to want to join them which was the only way that Ogrim was going to be able to learn the "old ways".

They were always weary of anyone but they are also in need of new followers. They answered with a bit of hesitation trying to judge Orgim's sincerity.

"So you are willing to throw off the yoke of the Aelyrian false clerics and their gods to return to the true religion?" one asked. "What do hope to discover within?"

Ogrim · April 5, 2008, 10:10 PM

Ogrim thought for a moment before answering the question as poignantly as he could.

”Never was I under da yoke of da false gods.”, pausing slightly before he went on, the one eyed uruk answered what he sought within. It was simple and unmistakable. ”I seek, da death of my enemies.”

Ogrim never was an orator, he led by example. His way was simple; hopefully the Ash Pargijakun would see some potential in him.

Gauls · April 6, 2008, 07:45 PM

Ogrim

Ogrim's response was what they wanted to hear obviously. They all nodded in unison.

"Follow me" one of the figures replied then turned to enter the cave complex.

As Ogrim moved to enter the cave, just before he enters, there comes a feeling over him as if he was walking through an invisible bubble. He could feel it pass over his skin as he entered. The caves were protected by some sort of magic and Ogrim felt it first hand.

Once inside, the tunnel leading from the cave mouth seemed to disappear into darkness as it trailed off into the darkness. There were torches at the main entrance and the figure that Ogim was following grabbed one off the wall and led the way forward. The pitch blackness peeled back slowly as the torch light pierced a radius around the pair. It seemed as though the two were walking forever with no light or sound to be seen or heard. The figure Ogrim was following never spoke.

Finally, what seemed to be far off in the blackness Ogrim could make out a light. The tunnel ahead turned to the left and as they made the turn, the light grew brighter. The light itself had a green hue to it. As they got closer, Ogrim would get a glimpse of a place that many in the city have never seen.

Secrets :

Grak · June 16, 2008, 06:49 PM

Kalendryas 4, Winter, Era XV

His death had been something of a surprise to the orc, not that he hadn't expected to die at some point, but to die at the hands of a mere human was an ignominy that still rankled in his very soul. To have died at the other end of the Empire and to have missed the glory of battle rankled still further. Patience it was true had never been one of his strongest points, and greed had turned his head once he realised how weak and spineless the other races were. He still wasn't entirely sure about the orc who had led the SHC and why he'd been assigned away from the Horde.

Perhaps then it wasn't entirely surprising that the news of this latest conflict, the rumours of which circulated amongst the dead had been the final catalyst which had turned his anger and focused it into something that was a weapon. With that weapon he'd beat against the walls that confined him, working himself up into a berserk state that only another orc would understand. Now he wanted back in a way that only vengeance could satisfy and the blood in his mouth, the taste of which was always with him since Tiriks sword had slashed across his neck was all the trigger he needed to fly into that fury which quadrupled his strength.

Most ghosts would seek to return to the place of their death, but in this case Sheria drew him back far more strongly and in Sheria there was a place where the wall was a little weaker, a place where spirits were wont to cross, a place where there was a door of sorts and it was there that he concentrated his efforts smashing his way through, his every fibre concentrated on this battle that he refused to lose.

Eventually the door opened, though whether because of his efforts or because of some other reason, he didn't know and didn't especially care. His entrance into the fortification that was Orckon was a little unusual, a little unorthodox, but he cared not for what those of the living might think. He didn't even consider what the Shamen might think of his abrupt entrance into their domain, which might well have been a mistake, but he didn't especially care and he wasn't in the mood to be placated or controlled by some mere spirit.

Z'kron · July 17, 2008, 12:21 AM

"I have communed with the spirits of insects, for the ways of the druid are different from those of the shaman. Ants and wasps. Swarming death that have no heed for their own destruction and move as a horde. That battle as one and live as one; that are always hungry and always grow. But I know of others; the wolf, the bear, the otter, the hawk. I have flown as a hawk and fought as a wolf. I have swum as an otter and feasted with the bears; and I have followed the songs of battle with Orok in my heart. "
The druid smiled, his teeth a sharp yellowish-white. He spoke complete truth at this point. His experience with insects; with swarms and even creeping death was not something that could be questioned. And it was something he could quite easily demonstrate. It was a talent he had developed- a power almost- from long ago; a gift from an experiment of sorts that did not even need the expenditure of arcana. One of his many gifts.
He gestured with his hand, calling nearby ants and similar species in their own tongue, knowing they would come to him and obey him as their leader. It was the way things was.