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We shall see where I go with this. Note that his thoughts isn't on on simple betrayal, his thoughts are all over the place! See previous story where he considers loyalty!

*stabs*

((Haha yeah Azolg, its just an attempt at some character development in my head. I think he is beyond the aid of therapy atm Rashka ))

To Ascend into the memories of a glorious history
Hellbrew stuck his staff into the ground, and lowered the keg that was hanging off of it down as well. The lightblue energies whirling around it dissipated as he waved his hand in mysterious patterns, letting his chi surround the vessel. Hellbrew spent a further few minutes unlocking the "locks" he had placed on the keg, to keep anyone away from witnessing what he kept inside. Once the lid slid off, he peered into the contents of the keg, and the contents peered back at him.

A vision came before him. Darkness and fel-green colours surrounded him, the ancient ground too was covered in demonic dust. In his mind, Hellbrew was back on Argus.

He had come here with the Azerothians that had travelled with Velen and Illidan to bring about an end to the Legion. He had even seen those heroic figures during the journey to Argus several times, but he hadn't joined them to be starstruck. Hellbrew kept to himself most of the time, inconspicuously blending in with the other members of the Horde that were there. Once they had set foot on the Argussian ground and cleared the area, Hellbrew had set out on his own hunt. He knew he didn't have long, roaming Argus alone was a suicide mission, but he also knew that his prey wouldn't be able to resist his presence.

""Come get some!"" His younger self voiced in his mind.

"You are never going to shcram outta my head, are you...? Shut up sho that I can focush! I haven't got many hoursh to do thish!"

He found a small cave, and sat down in there to meditate, to try and bait his prey to come to him. All the while he squeezed the green crystal he taken from the dead body of Warlock Holmes back on the Broken Shore, not many days ago. He had a plan, and he had spent the past few months summoning every ounce of hatred he could muster. He would have one shot at doing this and coming out alive.

It didn't take many hours before the voice of his most immaculate hatred called on him few paces outside the cave.

""""I knew you would come, grandson, I expected nothing less from you. You will become a powerful servant of the Legion! I can smell your hate, good! It will serve you well!"""" Eredar-lord Seruja's voiced was booming.

Hellbrew walked with slow, purposeful steps, exiting the cave, chugging from a gourd as he did so.

"Yesh, yesh, sherve-sherve the Legion I will...bla, bla...bla" Hellbrew lied after he had finished drinking his ale. Everything slowed down. He eyed the demons that had gathered with the Eredar-lord in the center.

""""You do know why I murdered them, do you not?"""" Eredar-lord Seruja smirked.

Hellbrew grinned as a reply, and let the hatred he had been building up for so long explode. He flew through the air which crackled like a sonic boom with the fury of his hatred fuelled chi, and Hellbrew's fist launched itself even faster still. It all happened in the blink of an eye. He didn't care what the demon had to say.

Hellbrew landed several meters behind the Eredar-lord figure, holding said Eredar-lord figure's head in his right hand. Its body slumped to the ground. The silence following the thud was deafening. The demons charged and Hellbrew crushed the crystal in his left hand, hoping with all his being that it would work just like the goblin warlock had said.

Hellbrew dissapeared from the surface of Argus in a green flash.

A green portal crackled into its twisted existence in the darkened sky somewhere above Aszuna, and the grimy silhouette of Brewmaster Hellbrew shot out of it like a cannonball. He landed with the grace of a goblin-made refrigerator, leaving an orc-shaped hole in the ground.

The eyes of his grandfather shut, and Hellbrew snapped out of his backflash. He slid the lid back onto the keg and set all the "locks" into place.

He peered down into Razor Hill and pondered the state of his mind.

Perhaps betrayal is the answer.

[Descend]

((I do these mostly to collect Hellbrews thoughts and feelings for myself, its a therapy for Hellbrew))

To Descend into the abyss of inglorious un-emotions
Hellbrew had become a bit of a recluse since the journey back to the Crossroads and later Razor Hill. After the events at Dreadmist Peak he would often find himself sleeping or getting drunk during the day, and sitting atop a dusty hill at night, endlessly staring at the stars or at the bottom of a gourd. Every day and night that passed made him feel duller, and even less like himself.

He hadn't really been there when the tribe find themselves in yet another fight with their mysterious would-be assassins near the border to Durotar, where they found their wounded Chieftain and figured out that the protagonist orcs were actually Burning Blade. Nor had he been there when the tribe had found themselves surrounded by the Burning Blade in that cave network.

But he had witnessed it all from afar. During the fight in the Barrens, he had been nearby on a Hill, not finding the will to charge down into the fray like he normally would. Instead he just stood there, watching as the tribe struggled the fight, watching that orc Kargush get cut down... and feeling nothing.

Even the voices in his head were nothing but murmurs at this stage.

When the orcs set out to investigate that cave network, Hellbrew followed behind the pack but did not enter with them, instead he would scour the area surrounding the cave, alone. After awhile he found himself beset by Burning Blade orcs, not many however, and he would effortlessly and without his normal joy for battle, dispatch them all. But more would come, and he quickly found himself overwhelmed and slowly started thinking that he should just let them kill him, put an end to it afterall. That's when he had the vision, it was feint, but it was there, the outline of a ghostly wolf? Another moment passed and he found himself standing on a mound of dead orcs.

He would later learn from the tribe what had happened in the cave and for the first time in days he felt something; a cold shiver shooting through his entire body. He nodded to himself thinking that perhaps he would find the answers if he just stuck with the tribe, regardless how he felt or didn't feel.

Perhaps loyalty is the answer.

Haha his voice IS based on Sean Connery so thats good! I even made a soundclip once taken from Connery's character in Highlander, and modified it to sound a bit more deeper and orcish. I wonder if I can upload it....

And Hellbrew's age is a result from way back when MoP was coming out, and I was deciding whether to stick with the Horde and orcs or make a Draenei. I decided to mash my character concepts together and the result was a the really old orc brewmaster Hellbrew. He's never told anyone he is that old, usually says hes something 60-70.

It bothered Hellbrew greatly
Him and Nosh’marak had patrolled the campsite all night, including the inside of the tent several times. Yet somehow the would-be assassins had snuck past every lookout, every sentry and Hellbrew. It is not like him to miss things, particularly not when actively patrolling! It bothered Hellbrew greatly.

And what was he doing questioning himself like this? He stared into the emptied gourd as he contemplated his being. He did not feel like himself anymore, not since his short visit to Argus and the execution of his wife and child’s murderer. 131 years he had lived, well beyond most orcs and he had the part draenic blood in his veins to thank for that, but for the first time in his life he felt like all those years wouldn’t really matter in the end. He continued staring into the empty gourd wondering if even ale could keep his mind in check any longer. It bothered Hellbrew greatly.

It was good to see everyone again, those that had come. It was good to see so many fresh faces too. It reminded him that the Legion hadn’t actually managed to accomplish, well, anything of substance really, despite the en masse invasion of Azeroth. But even so, Hellbrew struggled to find joy at the thought of remaining with the tribe again. He wouldn’t show this outwardly of course, for now he would remain Brewmaster Hellbrew, perhaps in time that would be enough to cure whatever ailed his mind. But it bothered Hellbrew greatly.

Where is the Chieftain? Who wrote the letter? Was it really a trap or is the Chieftain in trouble? No one knows.

"How troubleshome you've made our livesh jusht now, Chieftain, whether you intended too or not" Hellbrew mumbled to himself, and grinned ominously as he peered down at the now tense collection of orcs. Suddenly, he felt hollow.

"It bothersh me greatly"

[Name:]

Name: Revax Hellbrew
Rank: True Blood, Gosh'kar, ex-Rrosh-tul
Age: 133 (Looks 70ish)
Gender: Male
Race: Blackrock Orc (¼ Draenei)
Class: Brewmaster, brawler
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Family: Shargla Thunderfang (mate, dead), Raigoz (son, dead), Trakmar Bearclaw (bloodbrother), Troxigar Stormaxe (bloodbrother), Seruja (grandfather, Draenei, dead), Valeni (Draenei, aunt), Rhoxigar Ironhide (father, dead), Rakka the Brave (mother, dead)
Known Friends: Most of the Red Blades, Tian Monastery Pandaren, Erving Maceface, Trakmar, Troxigar
Known Enemies: Grandfather Seruja (demonic Eredar, dead)

Appearance:
Hellbrew is an old orc, no one knows his real age but judging from his looks and white beard and hair you would guess somewhere in his sixties/seventies. One good look and you'll notice many scars and old burnmarks, all over his visible body, it becomes obvious to you that he is a warrior of many battles. The most visible scar would be one arcing down over his right eye and the eye itself is usually covered by an eyepatch, sometimes a faint cyan glow emits from the under the patch. Even more obvious would be the fact that he is almost always drunk, the smell of alcohol surrounds his whole being, but even so he carries himself well. Slung across his shoulder is a big stick that he found in the Storm Peaks and off of its tip hangs a large keg of his brew. His face carries a devious, rascally grin most of the time. On his right breast is a tattoo of the Horde symbol, on the left the Blackrock symbol is fire-branded.

Personality:
Hellbrew's personality matches his appearance. He talks with a slur as a result of many years of near constant drinking, but it suits him so well that you may perhaps even consider it rather charming. He is quick to jump any opportunity he can to be a smartass, he does not particularly care if it makes him seem a fool. Hellbrew is a formidable fighter due to his long life of near constant war. He is a generally friendly and jolly orc, not shying away from friendship from those that seek it. Hellbrew will always offer his wisecracking advice to those that need it, and is even known to go out of his way to help those in need. The old orc claims to be an excellent brewmaster, the best in Kalimdor in fact. The truth is that his drunken demeanor hides his true self, a bitter and tired old orc who thinks all the races of Azeroth are sinking with the same boat. Originally opposed to anything not traditional to the orcish race but now more open to both arcane and technological progress after having befriended several individuals with arcane and technological affinities. These days his demeanor changes from day to day, and he is more troubled than ever. Is often found talking to himself.

Things you may know about this character:
- He brews his own brew and changes the recipes constantly
- Carries an adorned dagger that he earned from his first Challenge of the Wyvern
- Like to prank/scare New Bloods as a measure of their mindset
- Hates the Legion, but loves to fight them
- Used to be a Rrosh-tul (officer rank) of the Red Blades

Things you may not know about this character:
- Is ¼ Draenei, thus his skin has a slight blue tinge
- Is actually around 130 years old because of his ¼ Draenic heritage
- When sober, is considerably bitter and grumpy as a contrast to his drunken cheery self
- Secretly envies the powers of the demon hunters

Memorable Quotes:
"Shome are too wishe for their own good, particularly thoshe that AREN'T very good, and never being good, ish sheldom wishe" -Hellbrew on talks about witches and evil magicians

Biography:
Part I: Once upon a time...
Revax Hellbrew was born on Draenor long ago, and long before the influence of Kil'jaeden. His father Rhoxigar was a shaman of the Dark Scar clan and his mother Rakka was a half-draenei outcast from the Blackrock Clan. When Rhoxigar and Rakka became mates, Rhoxigar was no longer welcome in the villages of his old clan so they journeyed to the mountains at the far east of the Frostfire ridge, where they built a village for outcast orcs. Not long after, Revax was born.

Revax was a sickly baby, and had his parents not been who they were, he would have been drowned at birth. He had a difficult childhood, being smaller and weaker than the other pups, but he had a will like none other. Despite his shortcomings, he showed affinity for shamanism early on and became his father's apprentice. Upon entering adulthood Revax had become a respected shaman in his village. When Revax was in his 30s, Rhoxigar got word that his old clan the Dark Scars had entered all out war with ogres, so he returned to his homelands to help them fight, hoping to re-earn their respect. Sadly, the entire Dark Scar clan was annihilated and Rhoxigar died with them.

Revax and particularly his mother didn't age as rapidly as the other orcs, and they both knew they would have long outlived Rhoxigar regardless, but the sadness that gripped them at his loss would last for years to come. When Revax was in his 60s, he was still a rather frail orc physically but his bonds with the elements were strong. But not strong enough to save his people, so when ogres came to ransack their village he had to watch his friends get slaughtered. Rakka and Revax and a few of the others managed to flee into Blackrock territory. The Blackrocks sent wolfriders after the ogres and upon their return demanded that Revax and Rakka submit to servitude with the Blackrock clan.

Revax would serve the Blackrock shamans with tedious, boring labour and Rakka would squire the warriors. They did so for many long years until Ner'zhul and Gul'dan started gathering the clans and forming what would later be the first Horde. The shamans that Revax served would become warlocks when Gul'dan started his teachings, and Revax would secretly desire the power that he witnessed. He stopped hearing the whispers of the spirits, as all orcs did at this time. When the offer to drink the demons blood came Rakka refused, but Revax willingly did so seeking to rid himself of his weakness.

Rakka was assaulted by the Blackrocks for refusing this gift, the new warlocks sought to drain her life from her body. Revax was infuriated when he saw what was happening and attacked the warlock with a dagger, killing him, but somehow the life-draining of his mother continued into Revax instead and he watched in despair as his mothers body was sucked dry of her life.

Left in place was Revax, now for the first time in his life a fully restored, muscular and strong orc. Devastated by his loss, Revax surrendered to the fel powers and joined the Horde in killing Draenei with a fel rage. The blood fury burned strong in him, and he often forsook the use of a weapon instead beating his preys to death with his bare hands, fang and claw.

He was by orcish standards well beyond his years at this stage and was told that he wouldn't be allowed to join the invasion of Azeroth without first doing an om'riggor. So he set out naked into the wilds hunting the largest talbuk he could find. It took him a few days to find one as most of the wild-life had been hunted and slain by this point. He battled it for a long time before besting it, bloodied and bruised. When he returned to camp he drank the talbuk's blood before his peers, when he was done he burped and fel-fire burst from his mouth. He was given the name of Hellbrew for his deed, a name he carries to this day.

Revax Hellbrew invaded Azeroth with the Horde and somehow survived both wars. After the second war he followed the sons of Blackhand into the Blackrock mountains. During this era in his life he spent most of the time getting drunk, having once again lost the will to take control of his own life and destiny. He was dragged along to join the new Horde when Saurfang and Broxigar sought to join up with Thrall, no longer wanting to be confined to that damned mountain.

Part II: World of Warcraft
It was at the end of the Third War that Hellbrew finally found his true calling. Chen Stormstout had come with Rexxar to under construction Orgrimmar, and having heard his tales of brewing and wandering, Revax started dreaming of such adventures for himself. And so at the conclusion of the Third War Revax set out to explore Kalimdor and the world of Azeroth, practicing his brewing skills, meeting people and gathering ingredients.

{To be continued}

ZING!

[The Return]

The Return
A green portal crackled into its twisted existence in the darkened sky somewhere above Aszuna, and the grimy silhouette of Brewmaster Hellbrew shot out of it like a cannonball. He landed with the grace of a goblin-made refrigerator, leaving an orc-shaped hole in the ground.

"Grom… damn'it… all" Hellbrew coughed the words.

""What do you mean, that was fun, fartmaster! Again, AGAIN"" The voice of his younger self rang in his head.

"""Hah!""" A brutish female voice cackled inside.

"""I told you not to…""" Said the older, sterner voice in his mind before Hellbrew cut it off:

"Shut up, I made it back did I not?" Hellbrew grinned, as he looked up at the dark Azerothian sky.

The Note
The Brewmaster strode through the Drag, grinning slyly at the passers by. It was good to be back in Orgrimmar, the war with the Burning Legion had clearly taken its toll on the people of the Horde and on the city itself, but that’s just the way he liked it. The Horde hadn’t seen peace for a long time, and Hellbrew didn’t know if he ever wanted peace anyway. He had finally had his sweet, so sweet revenge on the demon that claimed the life of his wife and child. Now, nothing mattered anymore but booze and senseless fighting.

Hellbrew suddenly stopped and turned around. He could have sworn he sensed someone there, and shrugged wondering just about how crazy he had become, but realized something had been placed in his hand before he could elaborate those thoughts. A note?

“Friend,

I write to you in haste, for time is of the essence and eyes are everywhere. Even now, agents of the enemy threaten to silence me. I do not know their intent, nor do I know how it is that they have burrowed themselves so deeply into our society. They live among us; share our roofs and eat our food. Even in Orgrimmar, none are safe from their clutches. What I do know with certainty, is that you are in danger. You may have no cause to trust me or see reason in my words, but see reason in this: the spirits themselves cry out for blood.

I have enclosed a map that shall lead you to a desolate camp in the Stonetalon Mountains. Meet me there on the 26th day of the 11th month. I promise you answers and refuge there. In the meantime, see to your blood kin should you have any. They too may be exposed.

Trust no one.

Signed,
Kozgugore Feraleye”

Suddenly flashbacks flooded his mind. The clash of bloodied blades and laughter, the faces of many orcs with faded names. An orc with a broken tusk and graying hair. An ugly, wild-looking giant of an orc. A constantly pregnant orc. A wolfish looking leader. The annoyingly stubborn blademaster and the robed orc with a million puns! And many, many more! The adventures, oh the adventures! Hellbrew was suddenly overcome with a thousand feelings and memories he had seemingly long forgotten.

Hellbrew chugged the last of the ale in his tankard, drowning out the voices in his head, grinned and turned his stride to the West.