Orcs on Catkills Unite!!! (stories of live events by Skrug)
Skrug was bloodied, and bruised. His staff had hairline cracks down its shaft after the repeated strikes on the animated piles of rocks.
It had been many moons since he last stood in the doorway to Shame. Something was different, the earth seemed harder... things were not as they used to be, but that seemed to be the case across the uzg. The old days were gone, and but a memory.
“Dis amb skah!” He said aloud. “Wut amb dis mojo?” Something tugged at his mind, and he felt it drawn into the depths of the black cavern. What caused this change to what was once a training ground, a place for new gruntees to test their mettle. “Amb dis de will ob de buurz’ash? Amb de uzg chaynged su muj? Amb dis owr new tezt ob clog?” His memory of the uruckus was fuzzy. It was all so long ago. Clog. Might makes right. The way of the womp’r.... “Clog....” he nodded and set forth back to camp SKRUG
“Dis amb skah!” He said aloud. “Wut amb dis mojo?” Something tugged at his mind, and he felt it drawn into the depths of the black cavern. What caused this change to what was once a training ground, a place for new gruntees to test their mettle. “Amb dis de will ob de buurz’ash? Amb de uzg chaynged su muj? Amb dis owr new tezt ob clog?” His memory of the uruckus was fuzzy. It was all so long ago. Clog. Might makes right. The way of the womp’r.... “Clog....” he nodded and set forth back to camp SKRUG
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The small tribe of orcs gathered at the old Yew orc fort. The place that used to be home but was no longer. In a way it was both an ending, and a beginning. The clan was gone, but now there was the Buurzum tribe. Leaving the fort was a step into a new world, much different from the old uzg, yet familiar.
They walked up to the Shame entry way. Its inky blackness called to Skrug. The sound of grinding rock and flame and wind from within was more intense, in a way it sounded not just louder but purposeful, more awake. The five orcs readied their weapons, notched arrows, readied staffs and ran headfirst into the darkness. WAAAAAARGH! Was the battlecry heard echoing off the stone walls. One by one, the earth, rock, fire, and wind elementals fell to the team. They clamoured down, deeper, into the darkness.
They came upon a structure there in the darkness, magics swirled around it. Human magics. Something tugged at Skrugs mind again.
“Clog. Mite meyks rite...” he whispered. It was time the tribe knew clog again, and they rushed into the human fort! Hacking, slashing. Orc magic flared. Orcish arrows sung through the darkness.
And as is with tradition, all the humans died, and the orcs once again knew Clog.
The small tribe of orcs gathered at the old Yew orc fort. The place that used to be home but was no longer. In a way it was both an ending, and a beginning. The clan was gone, but now there was the Buurzum tribe. Leaving the fort was a step into a new world, much different from the old uzg, yet familiar.
They walked up to the Shame entry way. Its inky blackness called to Skrug. The sound of grinding rock and flame and wind from within was more intense, in a way it sounded not just louder but purposeful, more awake. The five orcs readied their weapons, notched arrows, readied staffs and ran headfirst into the darkness. WAAAAAARGH! Was the battlecry heard echoing off the stone walls. One by one, the earth, rock, fire, and wind elementals fell to the team. They clamoured down, deeper, into the darkness.
They came upon a structure there in the darkness, magics swirled around it. Human magics. Something tugged at Skrugs mind again.
“Clog. Mite meyks rite...” he whispered. It was time the tribe knew clog again, and they rushed into the human fort! Hacking, slashing. Orc magic flared. Orcish arrows sung through the darkness.
And as is with tradition, all the humans died, and the orcs once again knew Clog.
It was dusk when Skrug sat beside the fire. Its flames flickering, casting dancing shadows through the trees. They danced in unison, an ethereal ballet.
Skrugs eyes danced from fire to shadows, and back again. The fire was the strength behind the shadows movement. “Ghaash amb de Clog....” he whispered, “Buurz amb de... amb de....” He held his breath and closed his eyes.
His thoughts trailed off, thinking back to Shame, how the tribe clashed against the elementals, how at times they were scattered, and how once together and working in unison, dancing together, they became stronger. His thoughts drifted back to the dancing shadows.
“Ghaash ambd be clog, buurz amb de snarf...” Snarf, the dance, the tactics... what could Clog be without the dance? “De urks muzt gruk de snarf...” he thought He released his breath and stood, knowing what must come next.