Sturi frum Smegugh

[pachelbel]

Smegugh’s Story

Smegugh couldn’t see the ground for corpses.

His clan, had ultimately fought their last losing battle in a campaign of being on the wrong side of slaughter after slaughter. His comrades’ bodies littered the field on the high mountain pass.

Trained as a warrior, Smegugh had few kills for someone having been in so many battles. Following each fight, he always vowed to train even harder at his craft. The only exceptional talent he had was that for surviving. Countless times, Smegugh roamed the ruins of the battlefield, gashed, bones broken, flesh torn, looking down at fellow warriors who were dead with wounds less severe than his own.

Slipping on some freshly spilled entrails, he was jarred from his daze and forced to take inventory. Left arm, broken. Punctured right shoulder and thigh. Right eye blinded with blood. He limped up to the edge of a ravine and looked down. More bodies strewn about. Then he saw them.

Three wolves were tearing at the carcasses far below.

It had always been his custom, upon seeing any wolf, to do his ritual of honor. Right forearm crosses head, “Bubhosh warg, honor me’s spirit.” Then he spit into the wind.

A daze came back over him, and he saw something move far in the distance, he squinted at the sky. There, he thought he could see a ribbon of white flickering, slithering through the clouds.

Suddenly, a clank of metal from behind, he turned to see the paladin, dressed in full plate, in mid swing with his two-handed mace. Smegugh was knocked over the lip of the ravine, tumbling down, broken arm flapping, trailing blood until stopping a fair distance away.

He looked back and saw the paladin in slow pursuit of him, carefully climbing down the blood-soaked slope. Smegugh pulled himself up and refocused his attention on the sky to observe the ribbon shape again. As he looked up, what felt like a jarring to the back of the head caused images to flash before his eyes.

He saw the long sleek body of a white dragon push closely pass him. Then he saw many faces of wolves. Then he saw the great mountain peak where he lived when he was young. In a flash, the visions ended.

Looking back to the paladin, Smegugh was shocked to see him right on top of him again.

The mace came down, a scimitar was raised in hopes of slowing the blow, but only shattered. Smegugh was knocked back down.

Battered, Smegugh stuck his fingers into the dirt. Sparks rose from the ground like worms. He looked at the paladin, unexplicably, Smegugh knew what to do. He thrust out his hand. Lightning shot out and struck the paladin. The stream of energy writhed through the steel attire, cooking the human from the inside.

This is how Smegugh laid down the axe of the warrior and picked up the staff of the shaman.

[Volonazra]

Ug.

May da path lat travel be clear. If it eber git ruff, call un da Clan agh we shall uvercome. Loktar ogar shaman.

[Balandar]

Shakha wuld be proud!

[Rhoach]

Bubhosh scribbulz! Me hope lat's nu path iz a guud ash.

*salutes*

[pachelbel]

Ug.

May da path lat travel be clear.  If it eber git ruff, call un da Clan agh we shall uvercome.  Loktar ogar shaman.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Da path be ruff. Me nub strong lik me shuud be. Me nub hav tu call un da Clan. Da Clan helped witnub callin. Umbadagumba, cum agh aid me agh gib me many guud potions agh weapons. Shaka praise Umbadagumba!