As you enter Stonard's front gate following a routine patrol of the swamp, it appears to be an evening like any other. The all-too common sounds of rough laughter, breaking glass along with random thuds and thumps echoes from the inn as you pass by. Grots, some hunched over or limping from the toil of the day, shuffle past snarling war wolves to slide as unobtrusively as they can into the muddy holes they call home. The battle hardened grunts and raiders offer the occasional cruel chuckle or backhand to the loathsome grot procession and then return to their nightly tasks of sharpening blades, tending armor, or practicing amongst themselves.
Gradually, your attention is drawn to a steadily increasing commotion at the smithy. A chorus of howls, shouts, and reprimand sound from the gathering crowd nearby. Upon your approach, you can plainly see the object of their focus. A haggard looking orc, most likely a grot by his tattered piecemeal armor and sparse equipment, steadies himself atop the roof, his wide, bloodshot eyes regarding the mob below him. Seemingly in a daze, he pulls a rumpled sheet of vellum from his belt and stares at it, the unnatural tone and fathomless pitch of his voice silencing the crowd almost immediately as he begins to read...
"We, the Lak'gora, seek souls of fire and frost, the felsworn, blades of death and venom, and those of shade and storm. If the Gol'kosh be the fist, the Mok'gun the spirit, we Lak'gora are indeed the teeth, the fanged maw of the Clan eager to devour all. Our gaze is ever watchful, and we foresee you may find a place among us. If this pleases you, and if you believe your mind to be ready, seek then the Gar'mak or Soul Flayer."
Suddenly convulsing, the orc's limbs contort in hideous angles defying normal movement, the scroll falls from his hand in the process to be snatched by someone in the crowd. Murmured sounds of confusion and revulsion ripple through the throng of observers, drowned out suddenly by the strange orc atop the roof speaking in a tongue few have heard...
"Ywaq ma phgwa'cul hnakf! Gul'kafh an'shel! Yoq'al shn ky ywa-"
The unmistakeable whistle of an arrow and the following sound of impact silences the orc, his twisted form crumpling and then sliding off the roof into the crowd below. From the northern sentry tower comes a barked series of instruction.
"Git that filthy swine ta its hole! The venom on dat arrer'll give it time fer da beauty sleep it be needin'. Grots!! Dun' be like 'im. Dun' be clamberin' on rufs if ya dun wanna get shot!"
The two observers nearest the fallen orc roughly grab him and make their way to the grot holes, the black-fletched arrow snapping in the process. As the crowd disperses amid chatter about the speaker's words and actions, you notice another curious aspect to this previously mundane night. The various sounds of the swamp beyond the walls, a noisome concert you've grown accustomed to, have since fallen silent.
The commotion in the center of Stonard had drawn Thagajin to the edges of the crowd. Since he had returned, he had been working hard to re-familiarize himself with the way the Blacktooth Grin handled business. This Lak'gora, it seemed to instill fear and awe in the rest of the Grin. Perhaps this would be where he could once more climb the ranks in order to be left to his business.
The Gar'mak, that would be Vhares. His association with the shadow man had been formal at best, but at least they've fought on the field of battle together.
As Thag watched the arrow fly into the Orc, a surge of darkness gripped him, and a voice he hadn't heard in a long time, a voice he thought has been dead, spoke to him.
"Disya Lak'gora gwan fetch a da bad voodoo fer ya, mon"
Mad cackling followed by dead silence. Thag was struck by an emotion he barely knew...fear. It couldn't be, could it? Thag spoke out loud to himself, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
"Jubaba..."
Shaddoth stared abscentmindedly at the spectical at the top of the Forge. "Oh Vhares..."
Standing up, Shaddoth walked closer to the Forge, but by then, the Orc died while speaking in Toungues. Sighing, shaddoth looked around for the priest who must have obviously controlled this poor Orc's mind, looking for approval to use the body for some experiments. But too late, the body was being carried away by some grots. "Pity, I could have used him."
A pulse of energy left Shaddoth, searching for the source of the mind-control magic. The pulse calls to all of those who's souls are attuned to the soul shards (possibly still in possesion of Bok'Theg) of the Lak'gora, Scanning their bodies for signs of magic.
"I just want to know what all this commosion is about..." He thought to himself.
To whom do I owe the pleasure?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1MuduGl5wEs&feature=player_embedded
((I don't see why it shouldn't be))
Sinijahl leaned casually against the tree. She kept herself, not hidden, but more unobtrusive as she watched the Grin file back from wherever the battle had taken them. She had been gone a short while. She had returned to the south to seek guidance. Normally the source of a strong connection to the Old Ones, the Temple here had been quiet and she had felt detatched. She had returned just this night to reaffirm her commitment.
The noise from the Smithy brought her back to herself and she stiffened as she listened to the words of the grot, she made her way to the rear of the crowd...
".....ahhh da Lak'Gora, back en business I be seein..."
The hairs on her neck stood on end as the orc spoke. As the arrow whizzed by her and found it's mark, she turned to look for the source.
"...hehe, da Lak'Gora do be back in business again..."
She chuckles and grins humorlessly showing the gap in her teeth, then returns, still grinning to the tree to watch...
The commotion had drawn Al'arr from her hol - initally an annoyance that was distracting her from her latest project. Nevertheless, when she noticede the raving grot atop the smithy, A'arr paused in idle curiosity. This quickly developed into keen interest once the fellow had begun speaking in togues.
"Very interesting..."
It was clearly some form of either mind control or remote sipritual possesion, but what was this Lak'gora? Clearly some group of shadowmancers within the Grin, but why advertise their presence so publicly? Questions, questions, always questions.
"After all," she muttered to herself, "why ask answers to which you already know the questions?"
So she watched and waited, noting to which hole the grot was dragged to. Once the two bystanders had departed, she made her way into the grot's hole. He was indeed completely out of it, and breathing heavilyin sleep; blood oozed from the arrow wound. Prefect: she wouldn't even need to make an incision. The poison might throw the results off, but it would be simple enough to purify the sample. Moving as a shadow in the blackness, Al'arr produced a vial from within her robes and filled it with a sample of the grot's blood.
Back in her own, hole, Al'arr set about the test. Until she was ready, she placed the sample vial in frost salts. She cleared off a smaller table that served as her makeshift lustratorium and set out the necessary equipment. Alembic, calcinator, mortar and pestle, retort. Using these, she purified the blood and then examined it beneath an optical microscope. Not all of the poison had been removed, but it was child's play to diferentiate between the cellular degradations -as were the resonance tests. Nevertheless, she examined it magically in the chironasium, just to make sure.
The blood was teething with residual magicka, specifically dark energies associated with shadowmancers. To be expected. The next step would be more interesting: picking the residual magicka apart to determine the original spell and therefore the specific type of spellcaster, and -possibly - eventually a name...
"Betriana!"
"Yes, Mistress?"
I need three things - no, four. I need... my copy of 'Magic from the Sky,' two vials of nightshade and bonemeal each, and the 'Necromancers Moon.'"
The succubus waited for a moment. "That's three things, Madame. What's the fourth?"
"The fourth? Oh yes! Some mana cookies, I've been craving those. Lots and lots of mana cookies."