Gruumsh and return to join you."

Il'tak takes a single step toward the temple before realizing that the reins for his calvum are still in his hand. Il'Tak takes a quick glimpse around, hoping to spy Elybin's Calvum to gauge whether his should be tied to something (and to what, if anything) before he gives his mount the chance to escape.

Elybin's calvum has its halter attached and tied via rope to one of the several horizontal metal bars on the wall behind it. The tied rope is secure, though loose in length; there's enough room for any of the three mounts to move about. A rather bizarre decision which, in part, is due to their apparent personality. As Il'Tak releases his rope, his calvum just slowly turns its head to look at the forest orc before standing still under the thin brick roof. "I wouldn't worry about them running," Cadrogg explains, standing up from the shrine's steps and heaving himself onto a small platform ten foot up on the shrine's outer walls. "I'll keep watch for anything that comes. Likely I'll see something sooner in this storm than they'll see me." He brushes off some more sand from his loose tunic, bending down on one knee to lower his height before letting Il'Tak enter the shrine.

One can only wonder who made this shrine and how. After Il'Tak enters through the 15-foot tall arched entrance, he finds himself in a shockingly intact interior. The thirty-foot tall room, a large corridor of more dark-colored tone with more red metalled corridors lined down, nary has a broken wall or a whipped opening on the rectangular-shaped flat roof above. As a result, it is a rather dark building where light only comes from the square windows just below the roof. Each window is arranged so that the light, and sand and dust, pours down diagonally and conveys a contrasting shine on specific areas and darkness elsewhere. The stone ground, as a result, is lightly covered in sand; Il'Tak can feel the smooth stone underneath. It's a wonder how architects of an old era constructed something so resilient to time.

On each side of the Divine Shrine's walls rest figures of some odd, smooth stone, silky grey in color, each crafted 20 feet tall of grandeur figures whose heads barely touch the light from above. As Cadrogg said, these statues are of deities which symbolize forms of war and destruction and all else between. And there is a couple Il'Tak recognizes as told by the shamans and lorekeepers of Aijur: Pelor, god of sun who symbolizes strength. Heironeous, a god of war, Hextor, a tyrant god and one of war and massacres, and Corellon, elven god of warfa-

Correction, the beheaded elven god of warfare. Corellon's statue stands in darkness, barely missing the light from above as its head rests blankly on the floor. Its emotionless look pairs uncannily with its stone-crafted hair cut off alongside its neck. The cut made at the stem is clean and fresh as if recent and a shiny white tint emits from the neck stump. Evidently, even if the shrine may have weathered the storm, the statues themselves went brittle with time. To display the cut head in light, while the beheaded statue stays in darkness, is like an act of revenge against the god who cut out Gruumsch's eye.

A short walk further and Il'Tak sees another figure. This one kneels within the light on the left, praying at the statue in front of them; a heavy, sandy cloak is worn above its clothing; a huge-but-thin blade rests on its back and inside the cloak. It turns its head towards Il'Tak upon hearing his footsteps on the sand and stone.

The figure stands, and he gets a better look at Elybin. Her grey orc skin give a heavy look to her small frown. Her ears are thin and small compared to the other Walkers with slightly longer tusks and a crooked nose and thin chin. Her small, sharp eyes narrow at Il'Tak.

"And who are you?" She speaks with a sharp tone, wary of the figure in the darkness. "No one in the sandsea wears furs. Are you an adventurer?" Her eyes look down at the sand-covered clothing Il'Tak wears; its tips and ends can barely be made out in the shrine's lack of light. For someone she can't see very well, Elybin is remarkably composed, not seeing him as a threat and instead waiting for a response.

Giving Cadrogg one final nod, Il'Tak walks into the coolness of the shrine.

Taking in the sights around him (stopping to smirk at the beheaded elf, of course), Il'Tak pauses when he eyes encounter... no doubt, this must be Elybin. Il'Tak takes a moment to look over this warrior. While her ears almost look elven, that nose of hers is an excellent sign of her violent nature... as if the blade on her back wasn't proof enough. Il'Tak consciously stops himself as he finds himself puffing out his chest.

'Not the time... not the place...'

"Adventurer?" Il'Tak questions, "Adventurers feed the soil. I am an orc with tasks to complete. Il'tak of Aijur. For now, I seek the guidance of Gruumsh."

Elybin doesn't relent on her sharp tone as Il'Tak introduced himself. "Aijur? You're an orc that far away from home?" There's a certain, clear sense of doubt in her tone. It's not a big surprise; Il'Tak doesn't have the time to explain everything to her after already doing so to Cadrogg and the Walkers' chieftains. She takes one step toward the Aijur orc; her toes nearly touch the darkness in the light she stands as her thin, leather-material sandals keep her feet from touching the half-sandy stone. The warrior gives Il'Tak one quiet, long stare before a small, almost illusion-worthy smile flashes over her face.

"Well you do have the look," she says with a rough assurance, presumably comfortable with what little she can make out of Il'Tak. "He's right here," she continues, turning her head and looking upward to the statue to the forest orc's left. "Already gave 'im my prayer; can't tell if he's listening but I do whatever I can for an edge." The blade on her back slightly wiggles on her back as she turns around and leaves the light; the lack of a CLANG sound giving the soft impression that her weapon lacks a sheath.

Past the light, Elybin's darkness-shrouded cloaked body walks over to the next set of statues. Her soft leather steps being the only indication of how far away she walks. The open, rectangular space of light lets Il'Tak see the statue of Grummsch in all his glory.

And it's a sight that all Aijur orcs should have seen.

The mighty orc god's statue is represented incredibly; his mighty orcish anatomy, proudly seen in his sculpted muscles and chest, makes even Dura's frame look flimsy. The god's stone face is sculpted with the most terrifying scowl Il'Tak has seen. Grummsch's remaining eye is represented in a dark red jewel in the eye socket as if representing his endless bloodlust and lust for revenge. His lost eye is, unlike other interpretations of the great job, exposed open; a clear stab cut torn into it with a terribly black emptiness within thanks to the light coming from behind. It's a foreboding, ominous, almost judgemental figure full of rage.

And when Il'Tak takes his position in the light, asking for Grummsch's blessing...

...

It's a feeling that is ethereal, almost empty. There's no voice, no aura, no otherworldly presence, no atmospheric change. It feels like Il'Tak just asked for blessings from a statue. And yet, something felt different when he was done. Had Grummsch heard him...?

Il'Tak gives Elybin little more response than a shrug, though he takes note of her unsheathed blade. How the endless sands outside haven't ground it down to nothing like a million tiny whetstones escapes Il'Tak, though her blade may be tougher than that... if it has not be enchanted, of course.

Stepping up to Gruumsh, the orc can't help but spare a glance back at the (rightfully) defaced elven god.

"What sort of idiot would put these two in the same shrine," Il'Tak asks aloud, more to himself than Elybin, as he shakes his head with disgust. Certainly, it would not have been worshippers of either deity. Maybe one of those soft-handed missionaries built this place with the loose idea of 'inspiring peace'... by forcing Gruumsh to forever stare at his hated enemy. At the very least, the statue Il'Tak came to see was crafted with some skill.

Lowering himself to one knee before the great statue, Il'Tak silently prays.

'Oh Warlord of Warlords, give this one your blessing.

Look upon the Clan of Aijur, strong in your name but stolen from service.

Look upon the enemies who seek to cage our spirits and claim our glory.

Look upon the meek son of Aijur, bound to shed blood in your name with these shaking hands.

Let our birthright, rage unbidden, boil in my veins and heart.

May these hands tear foes apart as my blades tear pelts from flesh.

May all who would call me slave inherit my fears tenfold.

May I strike true in your name, that our clan be restored

Guide me down the bloodstained path that you alone can see'

With the prayer completed, Il'Tak rises and walks toward the exit.

There's little more than the sound of the rushing dust and sand outside the shrine as Il'Tak finished his prayer. Elybin stood barely visible in the absolute darkness by one of the shrine's pillars. Her orcish expression hidden past the few sources of light coming down from the shrine's upper walls; her expression impossible to make out. She heard the prayer but her reaction cannot be discerned. She leaves Il'Tak be as he takes his leave, passing by the other statues-

"Il'Tak!"

Cadrogg's painfully loud voice cries out from the entrance of the shrine as he storms in, feet slamming down on the sand and stone. His voice being the only initial sign of his identity while running through the dark shrine; his sand-covered tunic and brown skin phasing in and out through the small sections of light. The goggles hide what might be eyes of panic when he stops in front of the forest orc. His voice, however, gives a more ominous tone.

"They're coming, like you said. Four from the north."

...Oh no.

A thought, however, has to cross the mind. Four is too few to wage battle against the Walkers, Il'Tak, Cadrogg and likely Elybin definitely didn't travel from the north, and it would have taken the most incredible of luck to find this place without some sort of guidance.

Elybin's soft footsteps walk up behind Il'Tak. "Kin, you came here? Who else is coming?" She speaks warily, in more than a little confusion having missed the visit Il'Tak had with the Walkers. "A little baggage from the Aijur orc?"

Cadrogg gives her an... attempt at a menacing, unimpressed response. "His clan," he responds. "Mind controlled, far as I know. They'll be coming in any moment. We should hide and then get out." Cadrogg's recommendation is met with a poorly-hidden giggle by Elybin. "Kin, we talked about this. Once we're out of the sandsea, anyone can follow our tracks. We should deal with them the way Gruumsch would." She points to the blade on her back. "And I'd rather see if the stories about their martial might are true."

The sand specks falling from the three's clothing and the heavy pincer-like feet of the calvnum do make for a rather easy trail to follow for even simple hunters. Hiding and sneaking out of the shrine without a fight is certain doable for Il'Tak and the Walkers. But to confront and fight your own kind? To draw blades, even if to incapacitate them, despite their own skill? It takes a lot of courage, or ignorance, to fight the orcs of Aijur. Amarria had only one grand but disastrous skirmish in Aijur's history with the orcs; never did Amarria seem willing to try another. Knowing that, the thought of going against one's own, an enemy one knows too well... It's a rightfully scary thought.

Il'Tak's mind reels at Cadrogg's words. Though the words were no great surprise, it still sent chills down his spine to hear those fears confirmed.

"Are they mounted?" Il'Tak asks, scrambling to order his thoughts.

Cadrogg is left momentarily breathing in haste, head clearly turned towards Elybin's comments, while trying to answer the question he had just been given. "No, they're all walking," he responds with slightly wavering concern. "I don't know what mounts you had in Aijur, but most don't walk over sand like they can on grass, leaves and roots. I doubt they'll keep up when we're on our calvnum."

"Until they catch up while we're resting," Elybin cuts in, holding off a small sneer to Cadrogg while shaking her head. "Have you not heard the stories of their endurance, Kin? They'll catch us when we first lie under the stars of the open sky." Her voice is almost oddly whimsical at those last few words as if excited to see life outside of the sandsea. "And I'd rather not have enemies dragging along yours or my trail when we can take 'em on our earth."

The sounds of the raging sand and dust continue to weather around the Divine Shrine and through the rectangular holes high up on the walls. It's impossible to hear anything else from outside... currently, anyway. If Cadrogg is correct, it won't be long before the Aijur orcs get here...

Il'Tak sighs as he thinks over his options.

Perhaps it is best to distance his mind from some of the specifics. Thinking of the pursuers as friends and family... or as unmatched warriors... has thrown him off of his game. Even if he isn't the bravest of warriors, Il'Tak was meant to be the hunter, not the hunted. The broken and addled orcs outside aren't so different from wild wolves or similar beasts... Dangerous, true, but within Il'Tak's range of understanding.

Taking a deep breath, Il'Tak gently shakes his head.

"You may do what you please, Elybin, but I suggest that we ride."

"As Cadrogg says, we will likely overtake them if they are going on foot. Though their endurance is great, we would be fresh and they would be tired if they reach us as we sleep. Again, that's an 'if'. If we create enough distance, the wind can easily hide our trails through the sand and throw them off our scent. Not all warriors are trained for the wilderness as I am... assuming that they have their minds at all."

"While the front entrance could act as a choke point, that advantage works both ways. If they don't rush in to face us one by one, they could trap us in this temple. We don't know how many more might join them down the road... if they aren't joined by the very casters that broke them. I'd rather run now and risk being flanked by a