Fruit of Vengeance

Chants echoed through the dark halls of the temple.

An Ork with no name walked towards the chamber slowly. His eyes seemed to be exploding in fear, but his movements were calm and precise. His black robe flowed gracefully as he came to rest with each step.

As he neared, the words of the chant flowed through him. He felt compelled by them, so much so that the collar about his neck, and bound to the hand of the High Priest was full of slack in front of him.

"Brothers in blood. Sisters in blood. The blood of the brood is black. The blood of the brood is blue." they chanted.
He drew closer to the chamber, sweat trickling down his brow.

As he stepped to the door, the chanting ceased.

The High Priest bowed low to the ground with practiced grace.

"I present you the nameless one, who has made his choice of his own will, out of true adoration for his master." he said with speed, as though the words were spoken often.

In the chamber there were five figures around an altar, with long channels leading from the center into a lowered ring around the edge, about 10 inches in breadth. At the far end of the room sat a statue-like figure, towering in height above a common namegiver, whose face was obscured by a solid silver metallic mask. It stopped below the nose, or where a nose should be, and his haggard, red lips, protruded beneath it.

The seated figure spoke, but has he did, his mouth did not move with the words, save to lick his lips with a dry tongue.
The voice was powerful, but calm.
"COME FORWARD, NAMELESS ONE."

The Ork moved forward slowly.
As he reached the edge of the altar the voice spoke again.

"STOP."
The Ork obeyed

"YOU HAVE CHOSEN THIS FATE, NAMEGIVER. YOU RELINQUISH YOUR LIFE FOR THE ALMIGHTY DENIASTARES."
The Ork nodded, as though in a trance."YOU ARE NAMELESS, AND SO I GIVE YOU A NAME. YOU ARE KNOWN AS TOR CINDERFLESH, OF LAKE BAN"
As he finished speaking, the figure lifted up his hand, and in so doing, the Ork was lifted into the air. He motioned with his hand in such a fashion as to bring the Ork to rest on the altar.

"DENIASTARES, THIS OFFERING IS BENEATH YOU, AS ARE THOSE THAT MAKE IT. WE ASK THAT YOU ACCEPT THIS BLOOD, AND SHOULD IT BE WORTHY, GIVE US THE SIGHT OF THAT WHICH WE SEEK."

As he finished speaking, the five shrouded figures grabbed the sacrifice, holding him down to the altar by each of his limbs. Once they were in position, the seated figure stood, towering over the scene, and lifted his hands into the air. He slowly turned over his palms to face downward, and pushed them towards the ground. As he did, a grisly crunching cracking noise and a muffled whimper emerged from the Ork, whose blood seemed to diffuse from his body entirely. Within seconds the altar overflowed with blood, filling the shallow channels and pouring into the pool around the edge of the ritual table.

At once, the five voices shouted in unison, and the dried body ignighted, instantly being reduced to cinders. Smoke billowed forth, and seemed to immediately begin to swirl and churn. The blood below seemed to seep into the very rock of the altar itself.

In the smoke, an image started to form. It seemed to dance between terror beyond reason and joy. A barren plain filled with nightmares and bleached bones and a lush forest of powerful oaks protecting it's people. The smoke swirled, seemingly drawing away, as the great trees drew back into the earth, and the boundaries of the wood shrank, until there was just a handful of namegivers at the edge of a blackened, barren landscape.

One of the shrouded figures cursed, and the image of the smoke seemed to shatter momentarily.

Seconds later, the calm restored, the image seemed to narrow, the namegivers became clear, Seven, or what remained of them, stood on the edge of the badlands. Ready to journey into them, it seemed. Their many allies and compatriots surrounded them, but were less sure than they were.

At the center of the image was Tor.

The smoke faded as the last drop of blood disappeared into the ground.

"MY CHILDREN." the voice spoke again, this time the mouth bared it's teeth - multiple rows of inhuman fangs.

"YOU HAVE CHOSEN THIS TASK. BE REWARDED FOR ACHIEVING THIS GOAL. BE REWARDED WITH DEATH FOR FAILURE."

The robed figures bowed low.

"KILL TOR CINDERFLESH, AND RETURN WITH HIS BODY AS AN OFFERING. TAKE HIS SOUL AS A TROPHY. IT WHICH BRINGS HIM BACK WILL BE THE MOST FAVORED OF MY BROOD."The five figures all looked upon him.

"SEVEN HAVE SOWN THE SEEDS OF VENGEANCE, AND NOW WE HARVEST THE FRUITS OF THEIR LABORS. GO NOW, AND BRING ME THE FIRST OF SEVEN SOULS."