As Ugora waved her rotten staff over the altar in the middle of the burrow's main room, an acidic and metallic smell spread through the air... All too familiar to Xa'Gun... This tasted as blood, as he watched as a red mist gather.

Midka furrowed her brows, as she sit closely behind Xa'Gun. Close enough that if she reached out with her arm, she could touch his back. She continued to watch as the red mist formed from the Bloodletter's shaman magicks began to condense. She wasn't sure.

[These Bloodletter shaman arts are so strange... Blood for medium?] Midka thought to herself. As taught by her master, Blacktongue Shaman arts consisted of contracting the elements and making a pact with them. This allowed the Elemental to gain standing in their own elemental realm, as all elementals of the world called home, increasing their power.

The elemental in return would bestow a portion of its power into the shaman. Not only did this improve the shamans through orcish cultivation, but it would also allow them to wield that elemental power as their own.

[But... This Bloodletter magic is strong... Can I learn anything?] Midka now watched as the bloody mist ignited mysteriously upon the altar, which now blazed with an unnatural scarlet light.

Thinking about it, Midka remembered that her master spoke once of the Bloodletter's shamanism. That their medium was terribly great. Terrible and great.

Midka pulled herself from her thoughts to focus on the ritual and gleam whatever arcane knowledge and esoteric rites.

Ugora saw that the ritual sanguine flame had rooted itself into this world from the beyond, it was time to speak with Jukzuk.

She cleared her aged throat and began speaking, "Jukzuk, the traitor, you bring your son before me to have his future read... This is not so easily done by my rites, but if I do so, then it will be better with my rites. Are you sure? There is a price that must be paid... Can you pay eet-tah?"

Jukzuk grunted in compliance.

"Then Gorzoc, my son... As his master, you must also give! What you must pay is less, but pay you must... Will you?" Ugora gripped her staff tightly as she went through the motions of the ritual. She had already briefed Jukzuk and Gorzoc on what they needed to do. It wasn't a good idea to botch a ritual. All that nonsense of being true to the ritual was just that nonsense. Why surprise someone during a ritual and the corresponding spirit becomes displeased? Not good.

Gorzoc grunted a yes, as he reached into his sack he had laid near him, he pulled out an artifact, at the ready.

Ugora satisfied so far with the responses continued, "Xa'Gun remember it was your father that allowed this ritual, and that it is your father that will pay your part. Remember that it was your master that followed through... Never forget what has been given, and what has been lost... Xa'Gun."

Xa'Gun's eyes widened, [Why does my father have to pay... I would have paid this gladly.] He felt that he should pay his own way, even if his father was family, though it would be a lie to say that Xa'Gun felt nothing but this feeling. There was some part of his heart that warmed knowing that he had someone that would help him, even pay on his behalf.

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"Then Jukzuk, provide a trinket of love, the stronger and more memorable, the better. Toss it into the fire as a sacrifice." Ugora commanded, as she gestured to Jukzuk and then to the ritual fire.

Jukzuk reached into his orcish tunic and pulled from his breast pocket from the inner lining a tooth... Or more accurately a tusk.

"My wife's last memento to me... Let this be a sacrifice to our son... I know she would have loved you... May she rest with the ancestors." Jukzuk spoke with a stoic face, but if one looked closely enough, one would see a light mist upon his eyes. Without blinking, he tossed his most prized possession into the malevolent flames.

The tusk then evaporated into the fire.

[...That's not how fireworks...] Xa'Gun thought to himself, but he couldn't hold back a heavy feeling in his chest. He wished not to acknowledge what his father just gave... Jukzuk didn't speak often about his wife, but when he did there were equal parts thrill and sadness laced within the words.

"Now, my son, Gorzoc... You must pay, as well. Something that you love but doesn't mind parting."

Gorzoc already knew his answer, as he reached beside him, and pulled out a small cloth-wrapped package about the size of a fist.

He unwrapped it to show a very worn knife.

"This, my first knife, was given to me by my father, may he rest with the ancestors."

Ugora's eyes widened behind her ritual mask. She knew how much her son loved this knife... Even after sharpening it down until it could barely be called a knife anymore.

"Are you sure son?" Ugora actually asked, even in a ritual, Gorzoc was still her son. She would fight the beyond by herself if she thought it would help her son and family.

"Yes... You said the greater the sacrifice the greater the chances of knowing." Gorzoc answered.

Ugora nodded, as she understood. This was for his pupil. Even she didn't realize how much Gorzoc doted upon Xa'Gun. Was it because of who he was? Or what he would become? Ugora didn't know, but soon she would.

The knife was tossed into the fire, and it too vaporized, sending a feeling of wonder through Xa'Gun.

"Now with the sacrifice, I must too give!" Ugora Bloodletter, Last shaman of the Bloodletter Tribe, slammed her rotten staff into the burrow's floor puncturing it and sending slight spider web-like cracks radiating from the impact. If someone was attentive they would notice the cracks forming a ritualistic pattern.

She pulled out her ritual knife and used it to cut her left hand, in the same way, that Midka had done for her oath.

[So... The bloodletters took the oath magicks and took them a step further... But who are they calling???] Midka understood that this ritual wasn't a ritual of prognostication, but a ritual of summoning! Summoning what? That was her question. A slight chill crept along her spine, as she shivered. She looked at the faces of those present and the back of Xa'Gun's head. Other than the old grandmother, it didn't seem anyone else knew or noticed.

"Your servant calls to you the Great Pain-Drenched Bat! Send me one of yours, so that they may show us the bloody road that leads to the top! Lead us NOT into last rites, but into bonfires of victory!"

The fire then turned a yellow hue, that seemed to have sparks that dripped with a blood-like persuasion.

As Ugora's blood dripped into the fire, the yellow hue deepened, until the torches on the wall one by one went out. The calling card of something from the beyond finally showed itself.

A cackle of laughter, and then a burst of light!

The fire seemed to... Crack open?

Even Midka could not find the words to describe what she was seeing, but what she knew was that out of this ritual, climbed out of some type of daemon.

It was yellow, with yellow fur. It looked like a bat with arms and a tail with a spade on the end.

"An Imp?" Jukzuk spoke under his breath.

The creature laughed again, as it opened one eye and peered at Jukzuk.

Jukzuk felt that his skin tightened on his body, as the 'things' gaze fell upon him.

"Bats don't receive this kind of shit in Carcosa!"

The imp-like creature howled with a laugh, as it spoke words that caused a piercing pain in the heads of all the orcs present.