Xoruk

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a bit of inspiration I blurted out one day so im looking for feedback. It's not proof read yet so go easy on me and besides all the grammatical errors I think the content could be really good. What do you think?

Basically it tells the story (in some what if a broken fashion) of an outcast Ogre that seeks to understand his purpose. "If his fellow ogrekin have deemed him unworthy of the klan and exiled him, what is his place in the world?

Submitted: November 27, 2016

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Submitted: November 27, 2016

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We are all forced into our existence, we have no choice, there are no exceptions and with or without compassion waiting on the other side of our births we are all indiscriminately and mercilessly ejected into our fates. "Only the stars dealt ones hand when it came to a ogres destiny" that's what the elders always said at a solstice. Xor only attended a few Congregations with the Sun, but he never forgot those words. Congregations with the Sun or "Sondarr Gandarr" in Ogrish is a festival of ceremonies, it is Ogrekin tradition to worship the Sun, ever present in the sky ogres looked to the sun as symbolism of how strong they must aspire to be and is an entity regarded most by Ogrish society. Unchallenged she flys too high most of the time but annually just before the snow begins to fall and from the peak of the mountainous range that capped Underlands she drops to her lowest point of the solar cycle.  Huge and unwavering numbers of ogres rally and engulf Tian-Xia for a chance to have the day star dip so low that for one moment she might grace all Ogrekin not from her usual seat in the heavens but on Earth, as one of them, as equals.  A ritual as old as Ogrekind themselves every klan will indeed partake in the Sundarr Gandarr of Tian-Xai. With the elders words never far from his mind Xor often wondered why the stars had been so cruel when they had sentenced him to his very beginnings, his eyes opened for the first instant in the Misery-Labyrinth, so named because of the numerous journeyman claimed by her bowls whilst attempting to navigate them. They were always fit young men with a promising nature, pride gleaned from their eyes. "Everytime was the same though" Xor recounted, he had become witness to more than a few that had come to meet their demise in his homeland. Everyone of them glowed with enthusiasm. Xor remembered how amusing it was taking in the detail of the complaisance every adventurer exuded when walking through the Labyrinth, it was painful to watch sometimes, painful but still amusing. These behaviours confused Xoruk's young ogre mind but he would still be taken with how very apparent and poor the judgement of these ill-starred wanderers was, whistling and singing as they went. Xoruk had watched the different adventurers closely and saw how over-confidence would consume each of them. "They all had that problem" noted Xoruk as his mind's eye recalled the images of the dead adventurers. "The un-certain-ty of your safeteh os thah only reliable thing when you're all bya self in this giant shit hole" . True to its nature his ogrish brain couldn't assemble the words but persisted with images of optimistic wanderers   strolling through the dank maze, almost like school girls they skipped with glee. Don't be a fool, the caverns are bout to be mucked with, turn around stupid human, turn around!!" Xoruk begged internally for his words to be heeded, though he never confronted any of the thoughtless journeymen, Xor would only ever watch. Each would-be scout had no inclination of the hell they sort to explore, oblivious they all donned the same fearless demeanours in the genesis of their adventures. Soon enough hours pacing about Lady-Misery's caves began taking toll on even the most seasoned travellers as they began to question their own resolve. One poor fellow stood out in Xors memories, he had been reduced to a whimpering child after lighting his Sparkers twig,  doing so he discovered the structure that had guided him through the last couple of sweeping lefts and rights as if clinging to a balustrade anchored to the cave wall were in fact the smooth and bleached skeletal remains of a basilisk, long perished the serpents ivory stretched out for the length of fifteen men or more. Xor remembered it like yesterday and almost found humour in the man's scenario as he took in the scene with his lowlight vision; Xor, however remained static and silently observed as the man removed the Sparkers twig from his sash and struck the implement to its striker counter part sending a flash across his vision, some what blinded he drew on his stink weed hard to make a good lasting ember and waited for his sight to find purchase on his surroundings. Now forming plumes of smoke the man uncupped his hands from his pipe and took the twig between two fingers to snuff the flame but before he did he flicked his attention to the serpent bone shadows dancing on the walls, not even a second past by as adventurers eyes shot open like pie dishes as he registered the massive skeleton that lay at his side. The revelation caught him of guard and gave the traveler a start, jumping back he accidentally kicked along the clattering skull of the labyrinth's victim, it skidded across the cave floor with a racket triggering the droning bellows of which only the undead could be the origin. Xoruk recalls they annoyance of having the dead heads set off. "Great, that's all I'll hear for a moon or two now" The wretched screams of the demonkind only served to break the already crumbling sense of adventure the man had set out with, and now the glean in his eyes evaporated, the glow of enthusiasm diminished with every tread he made in the thick black mud surface, sabotaging his own pace with panic he cautioned himself to a slow, nervous crawl. The once man now boy relentlessly assures himself so that he may continue on, as he constantly measures his own ability with his mind, for scale he uses the end of each stoney bend he makes his way around. Xor could smell the disingenuine courage he painted himself with to gather his composure as best he can, it's not making much difference inside of the man however, xor knew that much, he chose to hairpin his tracks and make way from once he came, silently. Desperately encouraging a surge of bravery  for the trial of finding a way out he pushed but on only to be met by dead end after dead end, after 3 days of terrified and blind dordling his body finally gave in and he collapsed face first, having spent all of his energy he couldn't drag his head from its tomb of mud and choked on the black and viscous Underland clay. "Three days" thought Xoruk, "three days trudging in vain, he must of known there was no way to could retrace his footsteps" It left Xor perplexed and curious as to what could make someone so hapless persevere through so much torment. He knew from other befallen travellers that they carried poisons and other exotic items,  yet even if the man wasn't carrying something similar one sizeable boulder dropped right on the temple would have ended his nightmare instantly but in spite of his situation not even once did the traveller try to end himself, Xor wouldn't have given in but he is of strong ogrekin breeding, this was just a puny man, weak and scared he still refused to let the caverns win. How? It must be that glimmer they all have when one first undertakes a expedition in Tian-Xai. Hope. It was all they needed to endure the torture and powerlessness to remedy their grave mistake. Against the promise of certain death hope always remained fixed within the creature of man. "That was at least commendable" admitted the Ogre as his mind mulled it over.  Nevertheless for all the hope the adventurers harboured most were equalled by their naivety and inexperience. Eventually, if Lady-Labyrinth allowed one so far, each would lose their ironclad resolve and took on that of a foreigner lost and, as the stride they had once sported transformed to a cowering meander, realised the ill fated ambition that brought them to their inevitable doom in the mazing caverns, and so the cavity that Xor called home kept true to its legend. All who enter will never exit, lest Lady-Labyrinth take prisoners all shall perish in her dark depths. 

Xoruk the Ogre had been cast into the colourless world by a Mother interested nothing else but serving own greed and klan status. She was barely aware that she had even bared a child  majority of Xoruks life as klankin and had been preoccupied with a prior engagement to the klan chief the day his so called Ogre brethren had betrayed the young ogreling. Like a tidal wave smothers the land the mob formed In an instant. They engulfed him, hoisted him over head with great Ogre maws that reached out from the crowd to hold Xor's arms and legs with burning grips, slowly he was delivered to the next Ogre in line, eventually he met the Ogres of the mobs edge. Is mind ran in a fluster, "what now I wonder" but before he could put anymore thought to his predicament they heaved him outwards into the air, instinctively Xor spun to catch himself and break the fall, , but the ground was not where he expected, he found himself still falling as he flail. Thud! Xoruk met the hard unforgiving ground of a basen he recognised, hands first he plummeted but the momentum proved too great to break and his head was thrust in the stone carpet of a basilisk's pit. Xor's faced smashed apart in the collision, bleeding and disoriented he struggled to get his bearings, apart from the roar of the crowded ogres far above him it was quiet down here and the air was stale with death. He propped himself up on shaky arms and took in the environment, his minds eye flared as the realisation of what had happened sunk in. Xoruk had found himself in pit used to exile ogres not deemed fit for the klan."Hoshgahh" he said to himself, a word in the dialect of ogre's local to the caverness darklands of "Tian-Xai". It translated as Basilisk Queen.

She revealed herself from across the pit with a deafening hiss. 

"Survive" his quiet mind thrumed over and over, "survive"... He wasnt protecting himself from alpha ogre bullies in raids anymore and the andrenaline bursting at his sense's only magnified the lone ogres urgency.
The Basilisk struck. Xoruk shot up to stand, attempting to dodge with a twist from the balls of his callused feet, he flowed to his knees in a snap one eighty, hands resting in bunched fists before him, athough only a child, the giant kin still lumbered at 7ft tall. The brute had shoulders that seem to mountain over the equally behemith head, the ogres neck laden with choreded muscle offered little to ease his lurching posture and he found head could not craned about fast enough.
 Un-coiling like lighting, Hoshgahh adjusted with an almost ghostly speed, curling her trajectory she precisely compensated for the ogres back spin with ease, and found home for her hyperdermic-fang in the nose of Xoruk's over-bitten face. It left the nasal cavity a bloody hollow of mush with sinew and cracked cartilage the only framework for the rotting flesh destroyed by the venom still harbouring in its fang vessel.
Xoruk knew the decaying flesh would have to be cut out and cleaned later, his instincts paining yet telling, the understanding coming from within stung like daggers of wisdom, and they came double edged with reminders of  just how bad things had gotten. 
Xoruk's efforts weren't futile though, the once blue eyed introvert ogre began to pant and stiffle, hell bent on survival, he now beared the buldging blood-shot eyes of a being no longer in control, rage flooded his body, squeezing  the air from his lungs and any rational from thought.  
The rage takes control.
Senses stricken, all that had happened, and all that was unfolding before Xor all seemed to vanish instantly, leaving only the Hoshgrahh and the deep, feirce drumming of a "death lust" bellowing through his veins, each pump of his massive heart, another beat drummed to Xoruk's rage.   The drums of Xorgarff are loud, another entity praised by ogrekin, they knew him as the god wrath. Xoruk noted in aw, as clarity flashed across his minds eye, gone as fast as it came.
The basilisk tensed to snatch its diamond head back, seeking to prime its coil once more, though it was true, a Basilisk had never had tobstrike twice before, especially when threatened, usually having rendered any who she considered more fight than food to solid stone. It had always been the Stone Gaze of the Giant cave serpents that held their true power, but not this day.
 The outcast ogre defying generations of successful kills, his flesh remaining only attributed to the blind rage painted across his vision. Xor sensed the magical gaze but if the stone spell had any effect, the giant kind gave no sign. Creature of genetic habit, Lady Hoshgahh always reloaded her next attack instinctively, hit or miss. Instantly, she becomes the keg of black powder, not with a lit fuse, but with the advantage of detonating at her discretion, and with a strike faster than any mineral could combust. This could only ever be a trait born from a legless, routinal existance that had not changed in centuries. One serpants habits never changing from anothers, until, it had seemed, old age take them.
Channeling a raw and blazing will to survive, Xoruk refused to have his life force drowned in the pits of a Basilisk's bowels and so the ogre, so fresh to such a harsh fate, crackled with defiance. The fire of the fang's venom wracked Xor's body and with each convultion the pale skin thrashed harder. 
Still firmly planted in its sickly mantle of rotting flesh, it was only surrounded by the remains of cheeks blasted apart, but Xoruk embraced his new crown peice, letting the pain wash through him like the kinship washed away when Xor was cast to aside like an old peace of meat by his brothers.
 Mock klan'ery and deceat was riffe through Orgish society but so young was unheard of, only a quarter of maturity and Xor had seen a fate worse than orges ten fold his elder and for far less, he was condemned by a savage law blindly shackled with fear, afraid of what the klan does not understand. They alienated him early for petty reasons, although powerfully backward traits , the were always seen as afflicitions in the eyes of the klan. Day dreaming was Xor's last intolerance and he was hurled from the edge of a 70 ft crevase plagued with serpants tunnels  
More and more, louder and louder the bellow of the rage thrumbed on.
Hoshgahh's natural reflex's had always proved effective without flaw, never having struck and bound its prey to let so much as  a whisper escape the collasped lungs of the doomed meal, but now, faced with a rampaging ogre, thrashinging and droping fists like hammers, for first time in the Hoshgahh's underground life her forked-tounge tasted fear.
In the instant of her retort, her will shattered, she struggled to re-coil, another foreign expreience for the hulking cave preditor that was. Snared in the momentum of Xoruk's ferocity as the ramaging ragechild overpowered the monster, twisting and jerking, every bit of the throttling resernated through Xor's "skull-front", a promenent term in Ogrish, spoken as "kraz-ak-mudah" meaning "face" loosely, in common. The pain came in boiling currents, jolting down the spine and exploding at the pelvous, smouldering Xoruk's limbs with thousands of stabs as it passed to a slow, roiling flare, cringing hands and feets in rythm. 
Although the pain was aknowledged, it was never truly felt, soaking the giants-kind and simply running off as fast as it rain down. Leaving the rage beast bone dry and incharge, more now than ever. "Play louder!"  chanted the childs thoughts. Enveloped in a frenzy-trance, the rage was his forged steel armour, impossibly glorious, Xor wore it with no remorse. "Thrumb... Thrumb... Thrumb..."
Fumbling and wracked with emoitions never known to Hoshgahh, she was in another dimension, a world of firery torment, a world of the giant.
 Hoshgahh was domenated, too ruined with fear to check Xoruk, even within its powerful coiling grasp, the giant pariah continued the onslaught he ultimately had no control over, thrashing too and fro. Waves of flames were licking through the ogre's every giration, roaring at the claret stained fang hole and saturating the lone ogre's nervous system with a liquid Dragons fire.
 Xoruk Golmehoggh gave one last exertion of desperation, both of the ogre's great maws shot forth hitting their mark, flanking the snakes temple in a vice-like grib. Twisting hard with arms brimmed with scars and choreded defintition, as if the meeting between every bunched muscle birthed two more, hard and choreded alike. 
"An ogre's grip is iron."  the trance of ragging fed the mind a plathorer of chants and pounding drums, every thundering beat of the savage'ling's powerful heart in unisen.
Xoruk took the scaled joints at the base and behind the jaw beyond their natural limits, shifting his emense clench to acheive the critical leverage. Xor, flexed powerfully, hyper-extending and popping each muscle of the leggless feinds upper anatomy, a flash of silence cut through Xoruk, and for a split second his mind likened the event to twisting the head off a cave mullet.
 As Hoshgahh wretched and shrieked, her mouth easily incased the orge'ling, but her fang held fast and ultimately constructed her demise, a "pop" rang out, altough muffled by the ogrekins own fleshy wreckage, the grusome sound carried and cut through the air the crack of a whip.
The Basilisk's tooth had snapped at the root, torn from its socket, her pink soft gum seeped a steady fountain of ichor, thick black liquid spewed onto Xoruk's face and fang counter part, still firm it pretruded a solid 6 inches from it's landing between Xoruk's blood shot eyes. Terrifying on any occasion, the thick black serpants blood now spattered across Xoruk's skull-front shrouded already fearcely red eyes in showdow backdrop, only intensfying Xor's horrible visade.
  Black ichor flowed freely from the mouth of the three fanged monster and filled the air with a rot that burnt the nose, her agony obvious as she weakly flail around the damp cave floor, collasping under her weight, Hoshgahh's spear like head whipped and cracked to ground fractions before the ogres feet, she lay motionless , the lightening throbing inside her skull rendering the predator unconcious. Her massive frame still rising and falling.
Xoruk wasted no time, he reached at the basilisk fang still burried and pounding in his skull and when laid a grasp upon it, immediatley a door opened in his mind, Xor felt the millions of tiny reverse barbed hooks covering the curved and rough tooth, he now understood strength of the impalement he had suffered. 
 A fire flared within Xoruk and his heart burst into a fearce rhythm, welcoming  the cacophony of drums and chants that whirled inside him, Xoruk willed every swirling pool of fury his body and spirit would allow the desprate giant to tap into, redirecting it all for what came next.
Xoruk trembled with a rage that seemed to boom bright as he took the fang in both hands, he  began cautiously using slight tugs and pulls to investigate the damage, probing the fang with gentle grasps gave light to the rows barbed hooks that covered the fang  end to end, were to blame for the streeks of bright electricity all over Xor's head  and coarsing through his giant brain clawing further into the wirery facial muscles with every thrash at the basilisk, he grimmerced and adjusted an iron strength grip with both hands. Xoruk let his ripped arms explode upwards  and outwards, the hooks raking and sawing trenchs of flesh as he did, but he did not relent until he felt the hot flash of fresh blood as it gushed freeley from the hole where his snout once had been, a gurggling pool of shredded meat and hard blood-shot eyes all that remained of the young ogre's face. 
Lost in the astmosphere of his own frenzy, he was numb to all save the broiling tempo of his rage.  Drum... Drum... drumm... "WHAAAARRGHH"  Xoruk boomed a battle cry, sending blood curdling reverberations through out the dark, dank cavernness landscape, the tidal wave of rage inside finally bursting its banks. 
  Hoshgahh's eyes burst open and the Basilisk was upon Xor instantly, blood-drunk and numb the giant had torn the venomous ivory from its gorey burrow with frightening velocity. The ogre pivoted with the fang tucked to his forearm and as she struck, his movements sharp and precise, Xoruk sent the tooth crashing down with deverstating timing, spining before she struck, he watched as her head shot past. Though quick, the ogrekin sensed the attack and as the lunging Basilisk snapped at naught but air, its body at full exstention, he found his feet exactly where they needed to be as Xoruk transfered all his energy into the blow. The serpants tooth blasted through Hoshgahh's scaled crown, cracking bone and snapping tendons for 12 inches.
 Xoruk felt the warm embrace of the blast of black ichor sent spewing down his hard and flaring muscle, he relished in her beauty, feeling every spark of Lady Hoshgahh's life as they glittered away, the twinkle left the eyes of the basilisk and she fell in heap, coils of ichor and scales eventually birthing a huge diamond shaped snake head, her three fanged mouth hung crooked over her thick coils, fresh blood still pumped out in viscous pools, cladding her a thick and oozy black and revolting ichor.
 Sensing his triumph, the attemps at his life dennied, the giant felt his rage quell. Flares of red anger still flashed before his eyes and he was still shaking but there was calm in the air now, a calm he had never  known,he felt like a hurricane whirling too a gentle gust, clarity came swiftley and then, left again, the air returned to his lungs making Xor catch an awkward  breath, mixing coughs with gasps and choking on blood, Xoruk's kraz-ak-mudah home now, only to a ruin of bodily fluids that pulsed and foamed where it had once poured, cladding the dazed orge in a thick battle-gown of his own blood.
The giant walked a few half paces, craned his mangled head to the heavens and collasped... Xoruk Golmehoggh, had fainted.

 


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