The Initiate Pt. 01

'Next in the Arena. Please welcome our own breaker sent from the Spirit's themselves... Dur'ga'

There were a few enthusiastic claps from the small crowd. No one liked watching the newbies warm-up, save for the people with status looking to make sport out of their pain and sweat.

Turk sprinted to the gate as his name was called. The gates opened and Turk launched himself forward, almost continuing the sprint from before. Dur'ga continued to walk forward, chest up, and completely unthreatened.

Turk reached the orc mid-battle cry. He feinted high, bringing his opponent's defense up, then launched a flurry of attacks the unaware orc's thighs. He lost count of the number of blows, but each strike connected true. Dur'ga fell to the ground, screaming in pain.

Frax. Turk brought himself back to conscious thought. There can't be four rounds if he listens to Ray's advice. The crowd hung in silence. He looked around at their faces. Bor'a's stood out so clearly. The lines of his frown could be seen even from standing on the Sands.

'Get up..' Turk muttered.

Four flags were placed on Turk's corner as the crowd started to count. If they reached ten he'd be fraxed.

'Seven...'

'Come on...' He needed those teeth for all of this to come together. The full moon was days away.

'Eight...'

The chances of him having sex with Neh'dia was being counted away before him. Turk began pacing from left to right, keeping his eyes firmly on his target. Why did he let his instincts get the better of him?

'Nine...'

There was movement. Dur'ga twitched as the hulking orc of muscle placed his sword on the floor and peeled himself to one knee.

'Thank the Spirits' Turk turned to the gambler who locked his gaze. The upper-class orc held out his hand and reaffirmed that which Turk knew. Fourth round.

Dur'ga was on his feet. He rubbed his leg and gave Turk a look of pure fury. This was going to hurt. He was going to have to think of less painful ways to earn trophies in the future.

Turk remained mostly passive the rest of the round. He did nothing but defend, effortlessly parrying the angered orc's techniques with the Dai-Khan; a stance designed perfectly for fighting larger opponents. It was a piece of Orchish martial arts that most Orc's never learned, out of the thought that there was not many beings bigger than an Orc, therefore it was removed from generic teaching. If you wanted to learn the Dai-Khan, one had to do it off their own back.

The horn blew and both the orcs returned to their own corners. Turk sat down in his pen, but before he could relax, his armed was grabbed in that same obnoxious grip.

'Cut the fancy shit whelp... or I am not paying you a single trophy. I want to see you bleed boy.'

Before Turk had chance to reply the gambler pushed his arm away and walked off. The horn went again, and Turk had to now consciously try and forget everything his body so naturally did. He lowered his guard a little as an invitation to his opponent. An invitation gratefully received. Thwack. The axes took the majority of the power, but Dur'ga's two handed wooden sword connected with Turk's flesh. The crowd let out a faint murmur as their champion seemed to have turned the tide. Turk took three more blows which meant they were now even on score, four flags each.

Round 3 went by with a generous exchange of blows, putting Turk at ten flags, and Dur'ga at twelve. Turk's heart was in a constant battle with his mind, trying so desperately not to capitalize on Dur'ga's broad, powerful yet restricted movements. There was a reason why flexibility was important, but it seemed in Dur'ga's mind strength trumped all.

Turk returned to his pen and the bloodknat returned to feast.

'You let him hit you this round. You let him hit you hard! If you get up before ten. You let him hit you again. You go down by knockout, or there is no deal.'

Again before he could say anything the gambler was gone. Knocked out? Turk thought. He had never been knocked out before. They had agreed on a loss, not a knockout, but if Turk wanted those trophies he would have to face his fears, otherwise, this would have all been for nothing.

Dur'ga launched into a rage. Frax, he had been holding back too. He knew the game the Hightooth's were playing, it was probably why he was their champion. Big, brutish, and lacking any ambition other than to hurt people. Adrenaline flooded Turk's body. He brought his left arm high, blocking the sundering blow. There was a snapping sound of wood. Luckily he still had one axe.

Dur'ga's strikes didn't slow. High, low, left, but still, Turk parried them. His heart was racing. He loved the feeling that the higher intensity fights brought, but he needed to make his move, and quickly. The round was almost over.

Turk took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. Then he lowered his guard. Dur'ga enraged like a bear, swiped at the defenseless Orc. He rotated a full one-hundred and eighty degrees and brought the wooden blade hard to his temple. Thud. Then darkness.

\\\\ CHAPTER 5////

Turk turned to his side and winced at the throbbing pain in his head. The world went blurry for a second. He blinked it back into focus, then the smell hit him. A metallic aroma mixed with the stale stench of sweat. The realization of had just happened dawned on him. It turned out that being knocked out was not with the worry, he should have saved his energy for the putrid stench of the pit's infirmary.

Turk jolted as the gambler thudded his hand on the bedside table, and in his clutches was a small tether with trophies on it

'You made a fool of me boy. How is the word of Bor'a going to be known now? I promised the Hightooth's blood and instead, they got some wench dancing around with two sticks. Then when he finally gets hit, he gets swatted like a fly. Pathetic. But, you did go down in the fourth, so you have earned your trophies.'

Turk reached out and grabbed the tether and began to count the trophies. A wave of possibilities began to flood his mind. True it wouldn't get him many extra privileges; he would still be in the same poverty-stricken part of town. Still eat the same gruel that just about kept him alive yet never satisfied his hunger. Still live in his small one-roomed hovel, but he would have Neh'dia, and a gateway to learning more about magick than anyone in Youg'Zard knew. Then his heart dropped. There were only nine trophies around the bracelet.

'I thought we said fifteen?' Turk questioned.

'Bah! You're lucky I gave you any gutter whelp.'

This wasn't how he planned it. He was short. It was all falling apart and the full moon was fast approaching.

'Is there any way you can make it ten?' A little too much desperation slipped into Turk's voice

'Are you begging? Paha. You're pathetic. Your meat insults the whole of Sopora, and to think I share the same ancestors as you.' Bor'a tailed off, as his myriad of insults got quieter and quieter. The gambler paused. His eyes squinted as a coy smile appeared across his face.

'Perhaps there is something you can do for me. A task that is more suited to a gutter whelp like you. You owe me blood, and I always get what I want.'

Turk felt a taste of disgust. Ray had warned him of dealing with gamblers and their methods of trickery.

'Since I can see you are an Orc of finesse. I may have use of your subtle talents outside of the Arena. You see, there is an Orc who thinks his advance on my whore of a wife are going unnoticed. You are going to make sure that their meetings come to an end.

There will be a day Fifthsday next week where he will be at the slums you dwell in. Taking my bitch for a walk. It is there that he will happen upon my warning. My warning that you shall deliver to him personally. You will hurt him. Not enough to kill him, and draw attention to the chieftain, but just enough to send him a message.

Accept this proposal, and I shall give you fifty trophies. Think about it. With that many trophies, you will finally be able to live somewhere that doesn't reak of shit and piss. Refuse though, and I will take that bracelet, and you can go back to your life in the slums.'

Turk felt so powerless. Why was it any time he was around the Hightoothed it caused him to clench his teeth and fists. He took a painful breath in.

'I only want ten. No more.'

'What? You are ridiculous. I'll never understand you gutter scum. There's a reason why the poor stay poor. They never grab the fraxing opportunities when they are slapping them in the cock.

Take the fifty, and don't let me down again.'

'No' Turk refused.

'It will be ten, but I will deal with this in my own way. Like you said. This will take finesse. I promise you this Orc will leave your woman alone, no later than Fifthsday next week.'

'If you're wrong, I know plenty of gutter dweller eagers to make forty trophies taking out my vengeance upon your helpless body, and they have a much heavier hand. You have till the full moon.'

'By the full moon I swear it.'

'Good. Then I will find you on Fifthsday next week where I will point them out to you.'

Bor'a placed a card on the table. The card was one from ancient times used by the Shaman's of old as a divination tool. On it was seven axes. A symbol for the number of days Turk had to earn those ten trophies. How did Bor'a have access to a card like this? Did he even realize its true purpose?

There were footsteps in the distance. Then Ray burst into the room.

'What the Frax are you doing here? The Infirmary are for those who honor themselves on the sands. Not for the trash that sit on the outside of them. Get out.'

'Just remember fight master, trash like me built the pits.' Bor'a mocked. He left without argument.

Ray looked at Turk intensely. Turk met his gaze equally. Was he mad at him? Was there going to be an imminent lecture? Then without warning Ray burst into laughter.

'Oh Spirits. Did you see how quickly he scuttled off? They speak fancy, but just don't have anything where it counts. What happened to you today? I thought you were going to be the first to knock that dicklord Dur'ga off his pedestal.'

'I gambled to lose.'

'Ah. I thought as much. Be careful Turk'an. When you start to play the gambler's games it is very difficult to find a way back out. Did you at least bleed him of his trophies? Come on how many did you get?'

Ray looked around the table and saw the bracelet with nine trophies on it.

'Nine trophies? You took a beating for nine? Frax Turk. You could have earned that in three months.'

'No time Ray. I needed them quick.'

'Well at least you've learned the cost of impatience.' Ray placed the bracelet back into Turk's hands.

'Be careful little one. These Orcs live without honor. They are corrupt, unpleasant, and greedy.'

Ray put out his arm and gestured to help Turk up out of bed. Turk accepted it eagerly. He collected his thoughts and things and left the infirmary. He wanted to get back to that book. Perhaps there was a ritual inside that could help Turk solve the situaion with Bor'a as well as get him the trophies he needed for initiation.

\\\\ CHAPTER 6////

Turk'an was glad to be back in his hut. It may have been small, but at least he was alone. He couldn't say that it didn't stink, but it definitely stunk less than the pits. He looked back over to the Shaman's book of magick. He could feel a surge of energy humming through him whenever he looked at it. It was like a wave of warmth that started at the top of his neck, that swirled its way down his muscular frame, bringing goose pimples to his entire body. Though most notably was the feeling in his chest. It was like his heart was so drawn to the book it was trying to burst from his body, yet his mind was in a forever conflict. Torn between the ideals of the Duskaxe clan, and the powerful knowledge within the book.

Ten days. There must be something in the book that will help him to solve this situation with Bor'a's wife without anyone getting hurt. He looked for clues within the chapters titled Rituals of the Spirit Shaman. He lost the afternoon flicking through page after page, not really finding a specific rite, but more a guide of how to achieve one's desires. They were all vague and non-specific. A description of how to generate the Maya, but not for an exact purpose. The objective of the spell was therefore up to the wielder.

So the question was, what did he want to happen? He thought of creating a ritual that repelled the two lovers, but part of Turk wanted them to still remain together, she deserved someone who actually cared for her, not some pompous Hightooth who sees no value other than himself.

He could cast a ritual crippling Bor'a, but then he remembered one of the important rules cited earlier in the book, the rule of two, whatever energy a being puts into the world it shall return upon them twofold. So if Turk cast a spell crippling Bor'a what would be the resulting action towards him? It didn't feel right, as much as he wanted the man to suffer, he didn't want to mess with the energy for deeds of a sinister nature.

He went and stood at the doorway and looked towards the trees to the right blowing in the wind. He saw the birds flapping away from something that disturbed them. He moved his gaze down but didn't see anything. Then there was a twitch on the ground as the bear moved around the other side of the tree. Then it hit him. What if Bor'a was blind to their love affair? Like a camouflage in plain sight. But was he even powerful enough to make them disappear?

He remembered reading something about an amulet of protection that was perfect for a beginner mage to dabble in. Though it still required an energetic charge from an Elixer formed with the fluids performed in a Sex Magick Ritual. Luckily for Turk thought, the Elixer could be made solo, but it did require the evoking a spirit: a ritual that was said to only be safe for the initiated.

Turk had no choice. He had to do it unless he wanted to hurt the lover, and potentially risk the effects of breaking the vow he had made to the Spectre. Or he could do nothing at all, then it would have all been for nothing.

For the next two days, he had to practice a meditation called 'The Pillar of the Dawn': a practice to build up energy within him, as well as cleansing his body from any negative ones. He would stand in the center of his hut and visualize six spheres of power along different points on his body. He'd start just above his head, where he would draw energy from the heavens and grow it to the size of his foot, until it glowed like the sun. He would then draw a pillar of light down to his throat where he grew another sphere. Then his heart, Solar Plexus, Genitals and finally his feet.

When the pillar was complete there was a feeling of calm and serenity that Turk had never felt before. He felt so energized. One of the meditations he sat in for so long he could have sworn he lost half a day. His confidence grew each time he completed the mediation. He would be ready for the ritual.

It was Secondsday, which meant he had three days to prepare and make the Amulet. The book recommended a crystal of green, but Turk had no idea where he would find crystals near Youg'Zard, a city that was solely founded with Dusksteel. No, he would use wood.

He collected a small log and carved it into shape as directed in the book. He had never wittled anything before but had found the process calming. He finished it on Thirdsday, the result; a small wooden tear shaped pebble, with two curved horns on the top of it. It wasn't smooth, and looked like an amateur had made it, but it resembled the picture in the book close enough. Now all he had to do was to wait for tomorrow, the night before the full moon.

***

The moon was out. It illuminated through the small window in Turk's hut. It was so close to being full which meant it was the perfect time to practice. He had the Amulet laid on the table, had completed two meditations, and read over again what the ritual entailed. He was ready, albeit nervous. He had cleared the table and placed one of his shirts on top of it to signify the altar. He didn't have half the components he required but he was sure he could make it work.

First, he had to cleanse the astral plane in his hut. The best method described in the book was with burning safe, but again, it was another resource that Youg'Zard did not value. There was a lesser method using visualization, and since he had so much success with The Pllar Of The Dawn, he thought it would be the best option. However the book advised against such a lesser cleansing rite for such a big ritual, but he thought he could combine two different lesser methods in hopes to add up to a greater.

Turk sat cross legged on his bed and began to draw down energy. He then pushed the energy outwards. Bathing the room with a pure brilliant white light. When the room was entirely engulfed he uttered the ancient Orchish word.

'SKIR'

There was a rush of energy as his voice resonated through his hut. Then a stillness. He smiled in recognition of it all working.

He moved to the table where he had placed the items required: The amulet, a hand drawn picture of a woman, well what resembled a woman, Turk still had yet to master the skill of drawing, a cup of water with salt in it to represent the elements of Earth and Water, and finally a small fire in his hearth to signify Fire and Air.

Turk took a deep breath in and began to think of the most beautiful Orc to be his astral sexual partner. A name came to him. Xig'ra. As if his eyes were open, a room began to take shape before him. The perfect outline of the table in front of him, but instead it glowed a vibrant violet light. He lost sense of his physical body and surrendered deeper to his journey in the astral plane.

The fire snapped and roared more intensely. He got up from his chair and began to absorb the room. On the table, the water glowed a luminescent turquoise. Most notably, however, was the picture. There was a trail of pure white light leading over to the bed, where there lay the Orc of his dreams.

Here hair was blacker than midnight, with a galaxy of stars glowing inside of it. Peering through her wonderous locks peaked two curved horns. Her eyes glowed a pure red, and she had no irises. Her body was rippling with female curves, a perfect voluptuous hourglass shape with breasts so perfect Turk wanted to surrender himself to their embrace. His astral cock grew hard at the sight before him as a sense of pride washed over him, soon to be interupted by a powerful feminine voice,

'Are you going to stand and stare? Or are you actually going to Frax me?'

Her voice boomed, but before every word was pronounced there was a sound that resembled someone exhaling out of pure ecstasy. Turk stood there frozen. He didn't know how to frax, but he sure wanted to try.

'I've never done it before.' He admitted. He wanted to start the relationship right.

'I know little one, but you asked me here to frax me did you not? If the form displeases you, I can change it? A Duskmoon elf perhaps? One of the mountain giants of Agrapore maybe? Or even the exotic tastes of the dust elves?'

'No no, the form pleases me greatly. It's just I'm...' Nervous. He thought.

'Well show me then.'

Xig'ra rolled onto her side and stroked the entire expanse of her body, exaggerating every curve along the way. Turk burned with lust. He had never been with a woman before, but he let his primal instincts guide him. He rushed over to her naked glowing body and began to let his hands explore.

He caressed her hips, fully enjoying the curvature round to her muscular arse. Xig'ra began to sway at the reception of his touch. The more he stroked her the more his arm began to glow. It was like a current that was drawing in through his hands and nestled at the scar in his leg. He paid it no attention and continued to explore. It all felt so real. The touch of her body. The sounds of her soft, breathy moans. The musky, sweet smell of the beauty strewn before him.