Orcs of the Red Blade

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.

YES!

HELLBREW! ... HIC!

Returning to us in style and in explosive fashion, I see! :D Always great to see your name pop up again! And... "A constantly pregnant orc"? Dare I say, zing?

ZING!

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"

What bothers me greatly is that I can't not read the spoken parts in Sean Connery's voice. *shakes fist*

Nice little insight, makes me a bit salty that I couldn't be there...  ;D

Love it! :D Hopefully Hell can find a way to rid himself of some frustrations in some of the events to come. ;) Just so long as it won't be on the ol' Chief anyway. Also, damn he's old! I'd forgotten all about that!

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.

((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.

I see you also, enjoy taking dramatic pictures of us your orc staring into the distance :3

Curious Hellbrew thinks that way, the face he presents is just drunk 24/7!

I think Revax needs a Rashka physiology appointment. It helped Karg! ...I think.

((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 :D))

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.

Wait, what?

-WHAT?!-

...DAG NABBIT!

What's up with all these orcs and their thoughts of betrayal?

...wut is dis, wat is my bestie Revax doing ;_;
P.s Awesome read!

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!

Transcendance
Hellbrew watched the tiny sun set, as he stood atop the tower in Silithus. His thoughts dwelled on his murdered mate and son.

"The Legion ish gone... I wish you were here" he muttered to himshelf.
"At leasht you two have each other, wherever you are".

His gaze turned to the giant sword for a moment, and then he turned it to the keg hanging off of his staff, pondering its contents. Hellbrew grinned. He had been at unrest for some time, besides himself even, keeping himself distant from the tribe but not wanting to leave it either.  The head in the keg... he was going to unlock its secrets. It would require some fel knowledge. With the Legion dismantled that may prove difficult, but he was certain the Warlocks of the Horde would still be a good source.

What was he thinking?! Why delve into such things now, why did it matter? The Legion was defeated, why would he need to seek more power now? He smacked his lips, and they curled. His thoughts went to Deathwing, the Lich King, the... Old Gods. He nodded to himself. There is always something lurking around the corner, especially just when we thunk it was over.

His determination was renewed. Loyalty, betrayal, hate, love, power, weakness...all such things. The question was no longer whether to descend into fel knowledge or to ascend into the light. No, he would now strive to transcend it all!

All his life he had sought "inner peace". He had learned a lot from his brief time with the Pandaren, who were seemingly experts at such things, but they were wrong. Now he knew that for him, there had been only one thing could bring him peace all along; ironically, for Hellbrew there is only war.

"Lucky me then, that my feet are shet upon the World of Warcraft" Hellbrew grinned, took a swig of ale, lept off of the tower and and began his hunt.

My fourth wall crumbles! :D Nice, little piece!

"POOOWAAH! UN-RIM-ITED, POWWAAAH!!"

<Hellbrew uses jade lightning on an unsuspecting kitten>

Transcendence
Hellbrew sat on the hill overlooking the Crossroads, watching his fellow clan members go about their business, much like he had done almost every day for the past few mounts. Today he realized he didn't really know anyone anymore, even Trakmar looked different now, same, but different. Hellbrew used to be a social conduit in the tribe, way back when. Bloodmark had seen it fit to make a Rrosh-tul during the rebellion because of this, and Hellbrew had been quite successful at it. He had a knack for leading not only orcs but the other members of the Horde as well. Almost everybody found the old orc easy to talk to and fair, because of his light-hearted mannerisms when drunk no doubt. But they had also respected him and his martial prowess at the time. Much had happened since then of course, he had left the tribe for a long time, lost his mate and child, and then found himself back with the tribe, which was now a clan again. Or was it? Hellbrew realized he hadn't been paying attention lately. There was something about new spiritual wolves and things like that, but Hellbrew didn't know anything about that stuff. Hellbrew let out an annoyed grunt and eyed his keg. For months his life had been slowly passing before its eyes, and the final few months just finished flashing their imagery.

Hellbrew was mostly awake at night these times, just following the Red Blades around like some vagabond. He'd spend the day brooding, and his nights fighting whatever mongrels he could find around the zone. This wasn't what he had in mind when I thought about transcending his past.

"Enough ish enough" he muttered to himself and let a sly grin appear.

""What are you going to do, boss??"" the annoying voice of his younger self echoed in his head. Hellbrew ignored it.

Hellbrew felt Grom-damned he had started hearing those voices. Perhaps he had to embrace those too, eventually, but for now he was going to try to embrace his clan once more. Perhaps he try to find someone who could help him complete his Gosh'kar training at last, if the clan still had those of course. He wasn't sure. And perhaps he could find someone amongst them who could help him figure out what to do with the thing in the keg, someone who can keep their mouth shut.

Hellbrew uncorked a bottle of ale and drank it all, something he hadn't done for a long time now. It tasted like the waters of life.

Snowglobe

Hellbrew watched the stillness of Everlook, this dead winter-night. There were orcs from his clan among others moving about down there. He smirked at the thought of them finding out what he was up to, it was nothing that would harm the clan, but they wouldn't know that, they wouldn't understand. Hellbrew's face turned more serious. He didn't like being away for so long, they need him and he needs them.

His grandfather's head let out a silent scream towards him.

"There there, old man, back in the keg with you!"

With a waft of his hand, the floating head disappeared into the keg behind them with a thump, and the mists began swirling around it again.

"It hash taken far too long to deal with thish, I musht be getting old" Hellbrew muttered to himself, while pulling out and eyeing the yellow crystal he had spent the past year trying to retrieve from the Draenei "cult".

Hellbrew put the crystal pack in its pouch and observed Everlook for a long moment.

"It ish time for the next shtep." He nodded sagely to himself before changing his outfit to something more appropriate, and began the short trek to Everlook.

""Finally!""