Kern strides up next to Thrugash. "Your demon is most impressive, cousin."
He turns to the assembled orcs.
"I am Kern, steward of the Thunderer. At the age of seven, I lost my eye in a fight with an orc nearly twice my age. I ripped his throat out in retribution. My father, the chieftan of our tribe, sent me into the wilderness for weeks as penance for the killing. That is where I found and tamed this warcat, whom I named Grell. Grell is a powerful warrior by her nature alone, and I have cultivated her strengths, making her a machine built for killing."[dice=Handle Animal to aid Intimidate]1d20+4
At Kern's signal, Grell roars menacingly.[dice=Intimidate]1d20+2
Thoku act like he is going to speak up to help in the story but he inters a coughing fit and needs to find some water
Choot and Thrull move forward to participate in the Trial of the Word Hoard, “Zagresh commands that we, his Chosen people, seek out and destroy our hated enemies. A special hatred is reserved for the worst offenders of all, the elves. They cower behind their trees and bushes, attacking and running in fear from our might! Sometimes, sometimes, we catch these elves in a fair battle. Years ago, I traveled with a group of our warriors bringing the word of Zagresh to the less enlightened amongst our people. On the road back from my visit, we were ambushed by the hated elves! What they did not know, was that their path for retreat brought them to a hunting pack of our people riding worgs. As we regrouped and chased the pointy ears through the woods, we came upon this fierce fight. The greatest amongst the elven fighters had felled too many of our proud people. I saw an opportunity, much like the elves, I attacked when the warrior was unawares! My great axe split his spine like a ripe melon. To my surprise he did not die. As the fighting died down around us, this lone elf gasped for breath as the mighty Orc warriors around him did too gasp for breath. To Zagresh I did consecrate this great sacrifice. Whilst he still breathed I did remove his organs, feeding them to the surviving warriors of the tribe. For myself I reserved the dirty elves heart for last, as he did expire so did those he had slain also expire. Next I removed from their bodies the hearts that beat strong and true. I did sew them into the body of that wicked elf warrior. Then at my command he rose from his grave to serve Zagresh and the Orcish people!!!”
At that point I remove the cowl and the cloak from Thrull to (hopefully) the wild exultation of the crowd gathered.
Hakak roared his approval of Kern's deeds, excepting that all wound understand his meaning.
He was wrong. Fleshripper lunged at him and he swatted the beast's maw away.
Thoku pounds the ground giving a loud cry of power
"look at the gift of life bestowed on him, to forever punish the knife ears for even in death they will not be freed from our control aaahhhh"
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Diplomacy
Shakraal stalks up next to the males, and nods in seeming satisfaction at the assembled powerful heroes.
She throws her arms out wide. And grows in stature before the crowd, doubling in size, her massive weight shaking the ground, causing the odd root to pop from the ground in complaint. Her mask is likewise enlarged, all strange angles and sharp protuberances.
"Words! Mere words! Stand before Shakraal Kringsdaughter - my very blood contains the demon I carry - the Dreadmasque I wear to contain it - your only protection from the horrors I see."
Shakraal rips off the mask, exposing the full noisome horror that is her closed mutant third eye. Closing her regular eyes, she opens it wide, looking upon the unworthy.
A low rumble like thunder, but more supernatural coming from the east as several shaman of Storm-Screams begin to funnel in. In the front is a medium height, slight of build shaman in feathers covered in sacred markings and scars, walking in slowly with the elder shaman, clearly newly anointed of his tribe. They seem unimpressed with the chest pounding and mindless screaming common to their kin.
Kraq walking to the others leaving the elders behind,
What manner of game is this?
What manner of game is this?
"We prove our might with our words! Hakak said. "The greatest wins glory."
Kern speaks and many of the assembled orcs roar beat daggers on their axes, sending a great din into the air. It is a sound that is most pleasing to Rull. Grell, Kern's fierce warcat, roars loudly over the weapon-song honoring Rull with its cry. Hakak, also, adds his voice to Kern's speech, but it is lost in the weapon-song, and goes unnoticed.
Next comes Choot. At first, the warriors dismiss the frail orc. But, then they hear his words. They hang on every syllable. All but the dullest of them roar with joy as Choot tells his tale. Then, he reveals Thrull. Many of the orcs pull back in fear at the undead elf--those few who do not bear the scars of the Open Barrow. The undead are not unkown to them. For a moment, it almost seems as though he's lost, but then Thoku pounds the ground with his mighty fists. He wears the skin of the Blood God, and all know him as favored by the Chiefs in Fire and Blood. They hear his words and turn back to face the undead. His words stir them, stoke passions they forgot in their fear of the unnatural thing before them. They roar with laughter! They throw stones and offal at the wretched zombie. The weapon-song they make this time is even louder than what they gave to Kern.
Shakraal stands next. Her display is simple, like the minds of the orcs watching the Trial. She is blessed by Selzarian, for she wears the Fire God's mask, and has mastered his crafts. Her display of her power is fearsome. And her listeners are well-awed by her magic third-eye. But their weapon-song is not as loud as the one they gave to Choot.
"I have no skill in such silly things nor do I know anyone well enough to wish them better...
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Three more orcs offer their words to Selzarian, but none can bring the weapon-song from the crowd. One is actually thrown from the clearing beneath the dragon's blood tree. Finally, once the audience has quieted down, a wizened crone of an orc steps forward. Her back is hunched over and her joints are swollen with age. Her tusks have long since rotten away, and while her mouth is void of teeth, her eyes are bright and sharp. They peer out from behind a terrifying wooden mask riddled with fangs, horns, bones, topped with the skull of a great beast for a skullcap. As she walks, a powerfully muscled dwarf follows on a leash. His wrists, neck, and ankles are shackled to a massive war chest, which he carries on his back. She stops before the contestants and the dwarf scurries to crouch at her side, the warchest balanced above his head waist-high to the witch. She reaches in and grabs three fists of coins which she hands to the three contestants.
"Your Word Hoards are great. Selzarian is pleased that you master his gifts so well." Her voice is rheumy and rough, like slime-covered boulders tumbling down a mountain. The audience roars again in approval, making loud their weapons-song as axes bash against shields. She snaps her fingers, and Thrugash Fiendtaker slinks up with a scowl. "You have claimed this one's honor, and unmanned him before Selzarian. His tools are yours, by right of challenge. Choose!" Before Kern, Shakraal, and Choot can make their claims, three warriors in the back of the crowd go flying into the air and land with a crash several feet away.
"Make way! Move!" A burly shaman bearing the mark of Zagresh on his chest pushes through the crowd. "The Destroyer has no need for bird-calls of Selzarian! They are the tools of the tuskless and leafslaves!" As he walks, he swings his massive greatclub in an arc, sending orcs sprawlling about him. One orc isn't fast enough, and his head splatters open like a ripe melon. The shaman grins wickedly and licks the brain matter and blood from his club before swinging again.
Behind him, stomps a great behemoth of an orc warrior. Naked but for a few straps of leather holdings his weapon, he stands head and shoulders above the tallest of orcs, his body glorying in the scars and brands of countless battles! His tusks are huge, looking like they belong to a dire boar or a young mammoth. From his forehead rises a crest of three horns, the scarring and crude stitch-work about the their bases speak volumes about their nature. This orc has thrice pierced his own skull! Thick rings have been pierced into into flesh down the lengths of both his mighty thews and bulging arms. His dull eyes burn with madness and bloodrage. The brute roars the warcry of an unthinking beast, and charges at an orc who got to near, and would have surely ripped the warrior in twain save the shaman's hand lightly tapping his flank. The brute (who must surely have ogre blood running through his veins) stops instantly, and whines as terror cuts through the murder in his gaze. He turns back to the shaman and heals him as a broken dog.
The crowd melts before them, and they pass unmolested. Behind them, march four more warriors in fierce spiked breastplates, each holding the standard of the Twisted Nail aloft. They each roar a great challenge as they stomp through what once was the Trial of the Word Hoard. "Glory to the Twisted Nail! The Trials of Thunder and Might will be ours!"
The crowd reforms as the Twisted Nail orcs pass, grumbling and snarling curses at the savage cannibals. But, none step up to regain honor. The crone turns back to three victors as though nothing unusual has happened. "Choose." Thrugash curses and extends out a brilliant greataxe, deadly and well-crafted, despite its proud battle scars; a wickeldy sharp falchion, ancient, but well-crafted, it bears the mark of the steel-eaters on the pommel; and a black-enameled shirt of chain, that Thrugash takes from his own back! He and his demon hold these three items on outstretched arms and with bowed heads.
"Honor to your tribes! Honor to Selzarian! The Fire God fills his lungs with the smoke of your words burning on his victory pyre!"
Kern reaches out for the nicely-made chain, nodding to the orc who offers it to him. "Your armor will serve me well, and I am honored to use it."
Choot will claim the Masterwork Greataxe and place the gold in his backpack.
"Come Thoku and Kern, let us bring the Thunder to our Cousins!"
Thrugash spits at Kern's feet when the crone's back is turned. "Half-blood! You will not survive the trials!" He spits again and storms off into the throng. Farther on, a rock outcropping has been washed out by the annual torrents of the Flood Road. The resulting curve of rock and earth forms a natural amphitheater. It is here that the Trial of Thunder takes place.
As the group approaches, they can see hundreds of orcs crouching on rocks or leaning over the ridge of the outcrop. Already, the Twisted Nail has set their standards into the mud of the amphitheater. The shaman stands in the center, the brute looms over him. The warriors stand beside their standard. just to the front of the shaman, and two just behind, forming a large square about him.
"We are the Twisted Nail! I am Shrogkar, Dead-speaker of Zagresh! We offer axe-cries and weapon-song to the Thunderer's ears! We give him battle roars and the clashing of metal and stone! Come! Brothers of the Nail! Give music to the Thunderer! Honor the Chiefs in Fire and Blood!"
The four armored warriors pull out their axes and begin rhythmically banging them together. Shrogkar extends his hands out to either side and the warriors begin stomping their feet in time to their banging. He clenches his fists, and the warriors add grunts in time to their clashing and stomps. His fists raise higher and now sparks and smoke billow out form their mouths and nostrils with grunt. Their grunts grow ever louder, their clangs grow ever quicker, matching their voices in deafening harmony. Each stomp is a boulder falling to earth. Each axe on shield is a thunder clap. Each grunt an earthquake! Their weapons and eyes crackle with lightning, flames and smoke billow from their mouths and noses! The amphitheater is covered in a haze of that glows a dull angry fiery red and crackles with lightning. Shrogkar raises his fists high above his head, turning his face up to cloud. At the moment, there is dead silence, and then they all roar at once. The brute is loudest, his teeth are bared and slams his fists to the ground, but the other four warriors are nearly as loud. Lightning and thunder burst from Shrogkar's upturned mouth and strikes the cloud which litters the ground with minute thunderbolts.
They fall silent, and the assembled orcs roar with approval. The Twisted Nail have made a great offering of War-song to the Thunderer!
Thoku walks forward he spits in the ground toward the nails
"ahaha I need not the show of the group, for I am Thoku The bloodied one and I am the avatar of the blood god hear me thunderer for I am "
And he releases and war cry that booms louder than the whole of the nail tribe's display
Even after his voice goes quiet the echo of his powerful voice still reverberates in the chest of all gathered before him
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Kraq steps forward, *cast Ghost Sound* simulating a low rolling thunder increasing to as loud as he can get it, "I am a chosen of the Thunder God himself, I am called Kraq Skysplitter from the Thunderers own clan of Storm-Screamers! Behold my magical might!"
*Cast Enlarge Person on myself, then prestidigitation for some harmless static charge covering my body, then cast a lightning admixtured Burning hands into the air for a giant fountain of electricity, lastly four acid splashes admixtured to lightning as well to the feet of those in the surrounding area and finish with more loud thunder decreasing in volume.*
"Behold mighty Thoku!!!"
Diplomacy
Shakraal listens appreciatively to Thoku, then steps up and unleashes her own blood-curdling, ululating cry, a strident wordless choruscating wail-paean of chthonic darkness and blinding light. Her body shakes with the effort, but she manages to stay upright.
Kraq steps forward, *cast Ghost Sound* simulating a low rolling thunder increasing to as loud as he can get it, "I am a chosen of the Thunder God himself, I am called Kraq Skysplitter from the Thunderers own clan of Storm-Screamers! Behold my magical might!"
*Cast Enlarge Person on myself, then prestidigitation for some harmless static charge covering my body, then cast a lightning admixtured Burning hands into the air for a giant fountain of electricity, lastly four acid splashes admixtured to lightning as well to the feet of those in the surrounding area and finish with more loud thunder decreasing in volume.*
.
Kern steps forward, along with Grell. Grell lets out a relatively wimpy roar, and at the same moment Kern casts a spell and stomps the ground, creating a thunderous din.
(skill+bonus+aid)
Hakak stamped and Fleshripper roared, joining their din to the others.
Their lungs proved unequal to the task. Even those only paces away could not hear.
The cheers of the audience are deafening as Thoku steps into the arena. But, they soon grow quiet as the assembled orcs see the blood-red fiendish Orc stalk into the center of the amphitheater like Nulgreth himself. Shrinkage and his brute snarl in outrage at Thoku's theft of his honor! Then, Thoku spits at the shaman's feet. The shaman grabs his greatclub and makes to swing, but stops as the crowd erupts into peels of laughter.
Heedless of the shaman's glare, Thoku turns his back on the Twisted Nail tribe to address the crowd. "Ahaha!!! I need not the show of the group, for I am Thoku The Bloodied One! I am the avatar of the Blood God! Hear me, Thunderer for I am CHOSEN!". He unleashes a mighty warcry that booms louder than the whole of the Twisted Nail! Even after his voice goes quiet, the echo of his powerful voice still reverberates in the chest of all gathered before him.
"Behold! The mighty Thoku!". Choot calls out from the crowd. The words of the god-speaker of great Zagresh stirs the crowd into a frenzy! Many begin chanting his name; still other pound their chests with their fists and offer guttural shouts to the Thunderer in praise of Thoku's offering. Shamed beyond all counting, the Twisted Nail leave the arena.
Hakak and Fleshripper offer up their own war-song to Rull. But, it remains unheard by the Thunderer. The howls of the horde are too treaty. This is meet, for such is the way of the Earth-speakers to allow warriors and blood-spillers to speak in their place.
Next, comes Kraq Skysplitter! His steps are thunder, his voice, an axe shatter on shield! "I am a chosen of the Thunder God himself! I am called Kraq Skysplitter from the Thunderers own clan of Storm-Screamers! Behold my magical might!". With each step, his thews grow in power! Muscles bulge,veins swell, he grows until he stands head and shoulders over the other orcs. Lightning crackles about his awesome frame and he lifts his hands into the air to hurl Rull's own spears into the sky and at the feet of the crowd. Thunder booms and the crowd cries Rull's name as one!
Over their thunderous calls, a blood-curdling, ululating cry, a strident wordless choruscating wail-paean of chthonic darkness and blinding light is heard from their midst. Shakraal Kringsdaughter steps into the theater, her body shakes with the effort, but she manages to stay upright as she finishes her cry. All watch in stunned silence. The force of her Rull-noise has robbed them of their wind!
Last, is brave Kern! He stands in the arena with his fierce warcat. As one, master and beast they roar! The Thubderer himself adds his voice to theirs, pleased he must be to hear the call of his sacred beast!
The crowd roars once more, chanting the names of their favorites. Rull's name carries above them all. Andre the roar, four spears slam I to the earth, unleashing a clash of thunder and a crack of lightning each. Following them is an orc in ill -fitting plate. Every move is a scrape and clash as metal grind and clatters against metal! A falchion is strapped to his back and he carries three spears in each of his meaty fists. The crown of his skull is covered by a tattoo of a fierce storm cloud, lightning tattoos run down his head on all sides. He marches to the spears and tears them from the earth. Mud flies through the air to spatter many of the assembled watchers. The onlookers rub this mud into their skin, tracing thunderbolts upon their chests and heads and roaring once more.
Tempe shaman holds his spears aloft and summons the contestants to him with a look. "The Thunderer's ears are filled with the wind of your weapon songs! He hammers them into his mighty spears to hurl at the Orc-foe!". The shaman's voice booms above the roar of the crowds, stoking it to even greater howls and banging. "The orc-feasters displeased Great Rull with their war-calls. They dishonored the Chiefs in Blood and Fire by wishing to silence another!". He drags the tip of a spear across the foreheads of Kern, Kraq, Thoku, and Shakraal, smearing them with mud and drawing forth thin lines of blood. They are victorious! "The Thunderer marks you as his own!". He turns to Shrogkar and scrapes the speartip across the shaman's throat and mouth. [b]"You anger the Thunderer, orc-feaster! He will not hear your warsong until the Burning Angel waters the sky once more.. Shrogkar’s lips curl in a snarl, but he remains mute. He waves a finger and the brute thunders forward. He rips a massive falchion off his back and holds it out in front of him. The shaman gestures again, and three of the warriors step forward, stripping themselves of armor and weapons! Shrogkar, himself, tosses bag of coins at the winners’ feet and sneers. None of them speak.
"The Great Thunderer has deemed me worthy this day, I am honored to accept this in His name. What is the next challenge you have prepared? It must be one that honors some of the lesser orc deities!
Kraq says with a hearty chuckle.
Choot grins behind his mask and thumps Thoku heartily on the back, "Truly Zagresh and the other Gods have blessed our group this day. Come, let us get more trophies!"
"The Great Thunderer has deemed me worthy this day, I am honored to accept this in His name. What is the next challenge you have prepared? It must be one that honors some of the lesser orc deities!
Kraq says with a hearty chuckle.
Kraq's words elicit a few snarls of rage from several orcs, but the Thunder-speaker laughs. "Well said, well said!"