Topics

[Spoiler:]

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REPORT

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Objective:
Word has reached Arkail, that the burning blade coven have been stockpiling reagants and suppiles. If this happens there power could once again be a threat to Razorhill. A small fast team of Orcs will be needed to destroy theses suppiles and get out before any unwanted conflict occurs, A map will be provided of the cave system. bring at least 4, a gul'thuak must be present

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Rewards:
2 fangs per orc

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Additional notes:
Notes and spoilers if i am unable to lead it

Spoiler: show

• At the cave enterance two sleepy guards and a felhound will be posted
• If carefull they should be able to slip in unoticed using the map properly
• At the storeroom an old Orc warlock will be waiting with two small imps
• destroy all suppiles and gather anything usefull
• get out fast and carefully

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[A Meeting in Shadow Part 1]

A Meeting in Shadow Part 1

Arkail returned to the Razorhill inn it was now dark, a day spent reading and in the evening a friendly spar with the other orcs followed by cider and boar meat. Arkail let himself enjoy the moment if ever so briefly. He motioned for the bartender to bring him his usual stimulant of choice blackrock coffee and sat down for an evening of his usual work transcribing pieces, translating, writing letters to his usual network of information dealers and book traders and across Azeroth.

The innkeep with his usual charm slammed the mug down. Only much to arkail's surprise with a napkin underneath. If this was the Farstrider's inn in Silvermoon he wouldn't have noticed but finery and etiquette were somewhat different here in Razor Hill, a clean mug was considered fancy. He looked at the Innkeep raising a brow at him. The innkeep simply tapped his nose and went back to his work of spitting into a rag to wipe the counter.

Arkail smirked himself as he took out his writing set of inks and quill set, in a flourish that was down to his good mood more than anything, with a small burst of magic floated the quill from its place in his set to his hand spinning it in the air. It was then the napkin glowed faintly reacting to his  magic. Arkail dropped the quill and moved his coffee. A runed language appeared ever so faintly upon the napkin, he had seen it, he was positive he wasn't that tired and certainly hadn't drank enough to be seeing things. He inspected the napkin, there was nothing. Or so it would appear. Arkail weaved his fingers quickly in a odd pattern, muttering silently a soft spell. As he did the runed language appeared reacting to his magic. He adjusted his monocle and read it...

Cleft of Shadow...come alone... tonight at midnight.


It faded again and arkail rubbed his chin and sat back in his chair. Looking briefly at the innkeep who now was scratching himself in a intimate area. Arkail curled up his nose and shook his head. The innkeep seemed the odd sort to be passing along secret messages. But Arkail himself was considered an odd sort by most Orc's standards. He knew the game well enough not to direct any questions towards the innkeep. He was most likely being watched. Arkail scanned cautiously the inn in the dark corners, at the bar by the entrance. Some fellow tribe members were conversing a Tauren and forsaken were playing a card game a couple of Goblins drunkenly laughing at their friend drunkenly urinating into the corner. Nothing unusual.

Arkail pondered to himself who could have sent him this. It wasnt in any of his own or his associates cyphers. To hide something as simple as reacting to magic and on a cloth napkin of all places seemed crude and unheard of outside of bad espionage fiction. Arkail finished his coffee and packed away his writing set. checking his pocketwatch, it was 10:30. If this was to be a trap, he may as well spring it and see who wants to meet him he smirked to himself, nothing like a good near death experience. He set out into the night, approaching his Wolf, patting her soft fur. He mounted up into the saddle, adjusted his jacket, wrapping his cloak tightly around him and set out for the cleft of shadow in Orgrimmar.

[A Visitor: Part 1]

A Visitor: Part 1

((Apologies in advance for any missed grammar and spelling, you know i suck at that))

Illuminated by a small single candle on bookcase, off in the corner of his quarters. Arkail sat at his desk staring into a small broken vanity mirror, inspecting a small ring of pustules on his neck. He unscrewed a small tin and dabbed a waxy balm onto them wincing in pain slightly and grumbling to himself, before letting out a thick hacking cough He gripped his desk tightly and gasped for air, drawing in only the fetid miasma that passed for air in Undercity. Living in the undercity isnt easy and the older he got the more he seemed to notice.

"Charming, he said inspecting himself with a wry smile"

He opened up a thick heavy iron bound book and began to read adjusting his monocle reading the foreword.

"For Illrandra your love is all my souls need,  may elune's light and this knowledge forever keep your memory from fading to darkness"

"Elves" Arkail sighed in thought "always the same"

A booming knock at his door stirred him from his thoughts.

" Hargreaves!?!?!"  he hissed in gutterspeak.
"Dont hit the door so hard you know that it will.."

The door let out a creak as if in pain and slammed to the ground scattering dust and small scuttling insects into and around Arkail's poorly illuminated room. Arkail wafted his hand and coughed and said.

"Hargreaves dont you even dare drop them... Hargreaves?"

A slender robed figure stood in the doorway, a pair green eyes looming from underneath a hood.

"No, i am not"

The figure said calmly and coldly, removing their hood and showing his face a young Blood Elf bone white hair with dark sprouting eyebrows with a gaunt almost starved demeanor to his face.
Arkail stroked his chin and adjusted his monocle, every hair on arkail's body stood on end, he felt a basic sense of power and magic coming from him, but he didnt show  any reaction to it. Moving his hand slowly and casually to his belt where his sword should be, of course it wasnt. Arkail got up turning to his visitor with a smile and small salute from his temple,  briefly eyeing his sword safely proped beside his bed.

" Ah welcome, dont worry about the door, its always doing that"  

Arkail said with a chuckle as if to gauge his visitor intentions. The young Elf stood at the door staring, his hands by his side balled into fists, though it was barely visiable, the elf was shaking.

"Riiight, You're not a friend of Hargreaves by any chance?" Arkail smirked

"You stole something that belongs to the royal apothercary, you stole from apothercary for the last t... !" The young elf spat

Arkail responded immeditetly in a calm, flat, mattter cutting the elf off

"I borrowed, my young friend 'borrowed' now i cant exactly remember what, but borrowing, well its an entirely different concept, come in and rest, lets figure this out. I was just about to make some tea, its not the best but it can be quite refreshing"

"You shall pay with your life!"

The elf roared dramatically standing now into an almost heroic pose, the greater light from outside arkail's quarters silhouetting him.

"Indeed Well that's quite a price for a book, my my indeed, yes, it was a book yes?"

Arkail wafted his hands in a mocking gesture mimicking the young grandiose elf's actions and speech. The elf roared and pointed his hand out.

"Kill Xerskak, kill, feed, devour!"

A flashing smile appearing on the elfs lips as a felhound burst past the elf and bounded towards Arkail. Out of instinct, arkails hand and  fingers instantly outstretched and began and small series of movements, releasing a purple blast of energy at the bounding demon, now almost upon him. The blast simply absorbed by the felhound.
Arkail briefly realized how stupid that action was, but didnt have time to contemplate it as the demon snapped and sunk its teeth into arkail's forearm. Electric fire like tendrils of pain shot up arkail gripped arm as its teeth sank in, stopped only by the steel vambraces under his suit. Arkail screamed a guttural howl falling on his side as the demon began to thrash, Arkail punched and struck the demon..

"yes, yes, ha, just like he showed me, yes" the elf let out a mad cackle

Arkail looked for his sword still propped up beside the bed just out of reach still glowing faintly as it always had. Arkail yelped in pain again throwing out his free hand towards his sword, his fingers making movements in the air as if guided by another force, his sword glowed brightly ever so briefly and flew into his free hand, which arkail instinctively drove into the felhounds throat, twisting it before letting out a blast on energy from the blade itself, the front part of the felhound's throat burst out violently

"What have you...." much to the elf's dismay.

Arkail's eyes wide and confused still on one knee, pulled the blade loose to see the elf charging his a hooked dagger glinting in the darkness. In a single action Arkail adjusted his blade downwards. All those endless hours of watching the warriors train and Krogon and his blademaster apprentices doing endless katas and attacks had somehow given arkail at least the basic concept of what type of parry would looks like for this, all of them blurring in a hazy vision in his mind.
Arkail met the dagger in a attempt to move the elves dagger to the side only partially blocking the strike, moving the blade from a killing blow to slicing arkails chest The force of it sending arkail's sword flying off into the corner of his quarters and the dagger to another.

Not giving arkail a second to even comprehend what had happened the elf in a single motion tackled and drove arkail back into his bookcase with a sickening crack, causing the bookcase to partially collapse into itself. the elf raining down fists into Arkails ribs and stomach, blow after blow in frenzied flurry. Arkail fumbled and grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a heavy tome striking the elf across the face, the force of which making a sickening thud, Arkail now hit the elf again with the book, before then following up an upward striking motion causing the elf to stagger back.

There was a brief pause as the elf wiped his now bloody nose and lip, Arkail stepped forward a single step,feeling a rib pop and one of his vertebrae click. With a strained grunt Arkail said

"Quite the price indeed hmm?"

The elf stood motionless his green eyes staring unblinking,
The silence broken as the candlestick slowly rolled off the broken bookcase extinguishing the room's only source of light, drowning the room in darkness.

Arkail  readied himself for what was going to happen, his heart racing, his breathing hard and steady A shot of green flame came flying from the elves location, to which arkail responded sidesteping out of instinct with his own blue purple blast. Blast after blast they exchanged fire in  the small quarter each time briefly filling the room with greens and purples. Till finally the elf yelped  in surprise and shock, his silhouette briefly glowing purple before fading, followed only by the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Arkail panted heavily, trying to control his breathing returning control his pulse too fast to count his heart feeling like it would explode there and then, his whole body buzzing. He had always trouble controlling arcane after extended use. He gripped his chest and closed his eyes thinking it though slowing his mind, he was in control, he was the center. Arkail's thoughts only broken by a soft wimpering in the darkness.

"That was...fast...M-m--Mother! i want my m-mother, i dont want to d-d-die" the elf gasping for breath, weaping and begging.

Arkail simply watched the elves darkened silhouette claw at the air before he fell silent.

"Sorry" arkail said, "I am sorry my boy"

Arkail's legs finally went to jelly and gave out from underneath him, he collapsed unto his back and stared at the ceiling, only now becoming aware of his injuries, exhaling loudly in shock. He glanced about his now ruined quarters. the room  was illuminated now by green flame of a old moldy tapestry hanging on his wall slowly burning, his desk upturned his bed partially collapsed, his bookcase cracked perfectly down the center. Arkail stared back at the ceiling, calming himself only to feel as it something was watching him.

Arkail still laying on his back craned his head backwards to look at the doorway and there stood a bony figure lit from behind its jaw at a crooked angle that seemed to make it impossible for it to stay attached.

"Harg....Hargreaves how long have.. you...been standing th..there?" arkail exclaimed

Without any sign of recognition to the question, the forsaken simply stared ahead and said

"Scrrrrrooolllls you wannnnnteeddd"

And with that,dropped the books and papers his was carrying where he stood, spun on his bony heel and left. Arkail swallowed hard, gritting his teeth and stared at his ceiling saying coldly.

"I really, really hate that man"

Arkail sat up with some difficulty, he had to see why exactly he had earned such a 'visitor' and such an young untalented one at that....




.

[Arkail's Fables]

Arkail's Fables

**Seeing as story telling in wow can be troublesome to tell may as well post my lil collection here. with intros on where i am in the world i guess**

Arkail found himself once again in Lordaeron, only this time the tribe was with him camped in Deathknell invited by their allies to celebrate the hallows end, a celebration of freedom of victory over those that would condemn them for being monsters. Arkail not one for looking a gift horse in the mouth sneaked off to in the Undercity,  to conduct some business, network with some old friends and relax. After his dealing were done he went to his quarters deep within the city sat down in his somewhat decrepit chair, with a flick of his fingers the old candle came to life a small purple blue flame illumating his small room. Arkail opened up a book and began to read one of his favorite stories....

Arkail ran his fingers over the embossed lettering in the title

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The Old Dog

There was once a village in the mountains where an old dog lived surrounding the village was a forest and the villagers where always on alert for the dangers of the forest. One day a guard reported that a large beast had been prowling close to the village. Scared for their livestock, the villagers rallied together there best trackers and hunters to find the beast, now the old dog despite his age had great experience in tracking and he was chosen to lead the hunt.

Late in the afternoon the old dog picked up the trail of the beast, running far ahead of the others only to find the beast sleeping soundly under a tree. The dog spoke to the beast and said

"You beast why do you stray close to our village and threaten us?"

The beast simply looked at the dog with a bemused expression and said

" I've not come near your village, nor do i seek to harm any of your livestock!"

Not believing the beast the dog snarled and bared his teeth. The beast only continued to speak
"Dog, they're wolves in this forest that you should be afraid of...not i. They are the ones that steal your livestock. It is only by my presence that they're kept away, i do not mean to frighten you i am only here to gather berries as winter is coming as soon i must sleep"

...The dog lowered his head knowing his had made a mistake, the dog apologized to which the beast accepted and asked if he was free to leave. The dog agreed, he said he would say he'd lost the scent so long as beast promised to kept the wolves away.They parted ways.

It was in that moment the hunters caught up to the dog and saw him letting the beast leave. The hunters where furious, a hastened discussion was made and they agreed the dog was of no use any longer and shot the dog.  The dog was left to die in the gloom of the forest and the hunters returned home.

Now many say the dog died, but more still say that the old dog limped home that He returned because he was loyal to his home, to the people despite what they had done. He was its protector. But most importantly some say that the dog had a story to tell to the pups that would listen.

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Arkail smirked to himself, as he closed the book with care. He did always like that one. It was then he felt like he was being watched, standing up quickly, his hand instinctivly going for the hilt of his blade. The chair crashing to the floor upturned. Spinning on his Arkail turned to see his old "friend" Hargreaves standing there scrolls nearly covering his locked jawed gaunt face.

Hargreaves! arkail nearly spitting his shock. What do you want ?

Hargreaves not missing a beat simply stared though Arkail as he always did, dropped the scrolls he was carrying and said. Scccrrrolls you wanted, turning and leaving without a chance for arkail to respond.

Arkail spat and cursed the fool in a collection of languages many not fit for uttering in polite company. As he picked up the scrolls one in particular caught his eye

The history of the Bloodhammer Clan

Hmm interesting arkail though as he picked up his fallen chair and began to read.

[Time]

Time

Arkail rubbed his face in despair and sat up, screams deep within the Undercity caused him to wake. He groaned and checked his pocket watch sitting on a rotten side table beside his bed. 4 am... The joys of living in the eternal undying undercity. The city that never sleeps... literally. 
Arkail thought to himself. To a race that doesnt sleep, time is an odd concept. He had been losing track of it himself, how long had he been here. two months? three?. Before he left to find the blades he had seen a decade pass and he had barely looked up from his desk. Time was indeed odd.

Another scream echoed down the hall and Arkail groaned again. The royal apothecary society had been testing on a small band of poor fools for the last week. Judging by the screams he could only guess they where Dwarves, Wildhammer if the accent was anything to go by. He did wish they'd hurry up and finish with them. With a hacking chesty cough Arkail got out of bed and tried to stretch. The air here was putrid and Arkail was beginning to show that his body had been struggling to re-adapt to the living here.  He looked in a small hand mirror  a small medley of spots and pustules had gathered on his neck. He inspected them, then applied a thick waxy balm and sighed. I best get back to work. With a click of his fingers the candle at his desk came to life with a small, but bright purple blue flame illuminating his small quarters. Arkail sat down, polished his monocle and began to write. Transcribing his findings from Draenor cataloging all the flora, wildlife and fauna. He looked at the page his eyes running to his last line.

The complexity of Hydra venom: A study for its future applications...

He went to notes he had taken after he had hunted a hydra. Rough sketches notes in one of his own ciphers.  He began to write.

Boom!

Arkail's door crashed to the floor with a deafening crack, it caused the dust and dirt to fly into the air. Insects and spiders and all the decrepit life scurried and scattered. A single figure stood in the doorway silhouetted in the dust. The dust slowly settled. Arkail coughing and waving his hand, Squinting to see who was there.
It was Hargreaves. A lowly library researcher. He stared blankly ahead. His jaw locked at a sickening right angle and said.
"Scrollllsss yoooou wantedddd"
He dropped the scrolls at his feet in the doorway spun on his bony heel and left. Arkail rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers and cursed in a odd language before eventually returning back into Orcish
" That fel blasted heathenish bone headed mindless  slack jawed..." 
Arkail sighed.
"If i have told him once i have told him a thousand times don't drop the scrolls"
Arkail got up and picked them up skimming though them, picking up the door with his free hand and slamming it back into place..
"The wrong scrolls of course. If i was a paranoid type i'd think they were doing this on purpose he snorted" he returned to his desk and began to write.
Another pained scream echoed followed by what only could be described as an wet meaty implosion. The thought that the sound didnt sound like a legal avenue of research passed Arkail's mind, then for some reason to the tribe, The red blades. He wondered how they where fairing in Tanaan.  He hadn't planned on staying in Undercity this long a week or two at most. He doubt he'd be missed that much. The Gul'thauks had grown immeasurably since he became one of them and he knew he'd be contacted if his skill set was needed. Had he really been here three months?
Several hours later or what he thought of as several hours and he finished his cataloging and theories on Hydra venom, He glanced over the rough copy, casually flicking a small spider off the page as it crawled across it.
"Hmm that should give a good foundation to the Hydra chapter"
His bestiary was coming along nicely, he smiled to himself.
"I really shouldn't have indulged myself with this. I should return to the blades. Duty and blood and whatnot.  Hmm indeed"
He said answering himself. He blinked, noticed that he was talking to himself.
"I do miss a good conversation. Well i am never without intelligent conversation, so long as i have myself i guess" He chuckled. But he realized in this moment he did miss the tribes humdrum conversations Who was flirting with who, who had annoyed who. Conversations about the latest hunt and who had embarrassed himself in the process. Of course when he was with the tribe all this was written down out fo duty, but he had grown found of watching their lives from the sidelines. He missed the campfires, the daily near death experiences. The danger of the Undercity wasn't enough for him anymore he barely registered it. It was time for him to return, back to the tribe, He gathered his things and once set out to find the Red Blades. He glanced around his quarters, a click of his fingers and the candle went out. He grasped the handle to his door and it came away in his hand. He groaned, rolled his eyes and pushed the door, with a gentle nudge. It fell and crashed to the floor, dust flooded and enveloped him. Arkail trampled the door under foot and began his journey to Tanaan.

[Old friends and good company, there's no place like home]

Old friends and good company, there's no place like home

Arkail disembarked from the Zepplin as it pulled into Trisfal Glades. the sky tore and cracked with flashes of lightning as the rain poured down. The rain accentuated the rotten stench of death, damp and decay. Arkail somewhat grumbled at the weather as he headed down the spiral staircase of the Zepplin tower pulling he cloak tight around himself in a vain attempt to keep dry. He headed in the direction towards Undercity though the ruined arch. He already knew his presence had been duly noted, He felt the undead eyes burying into him, If he was any place else he would have ignored this feeling of paranoia. But here in the Undercity, paranoia was a valuable ally, especially if you are one of the few living beings in the entire city.

Arkail smiled to himself, the feeling gnawing at him all the while.. He was home. He was entering the elevator down into the depts of the city, when a lone figure loomed from the shadows behind him. "Arkail, my, my a pleasure to see you my dear boy!" the voice said happily trying to hide the obvious malice in his speaking.

"I see you're home then?" the voice said hissing into Arkail's ear
"I am indeed my friend" Arkail said not meeting his gaze keeping his eyes ahead.
"So Bartleby how are you?" The voice strained, then composed itself "It's Proffessor Bartleby, Arkail. Proffessor! Grmm"

Arkail hid a smirk he knew full well how Bartleby would react.
"Of course Proffessor, So how are things in the Royal Apothercary soicety?"
"Good news dear fellow, very promising fields of research opening up daily!"

Bartleby now stood beside Arkail as the elevator reached its destination, both steped out. And Arkail did his best to hide the fact that the smell alone made his eyes water to the point where he nearly gagged. Bartleby saw this not missing a step. Grinning his near toothless maw at him.

"Something wrong dear boy?" he said
Arkail causally shook his head and shrugged nonchalantly. He removed a small bottle from his pack, opening it he dabbed the mixture under each nostril.
"Good to be home Bartleby" Arkail said as they walked together though the city
"Back for good i hope! Finished you wandering with those Orcs of yours?"
Arkail had become aware he was being guided by Bartleby and that two figures where following but he didn't let on

"No, not at all, just thought i'd check up on a few things i have some fellows to see and all" Arkail said, as  Bartleby turned again down a narrow passage nodding in acknowledgement
Hmm, yes friends, I do believe we share those particular friends Arkail my boy
I wouldnt doubt that we did Professor, You've risen quite high in the society of late.
Bartleby tried to hide his contempt and shock scratching his near bald scalp. "You've heard then how did you find that out?"

"Well you just told me Professor and those shadows you have following us, last i hear a simple researcher didnt have guards, could you please ask them to keep their distance a tad. we dont want to look important, This is a dangerous place, full of rogues, thieves and ner'do'wells."

Arkail said meeting Bartlebys gaze for the first time with a smirk and a raised brow
The Proffessor cackled loudly placing a bony hand on Arkail's shoulder. "I see your time living out in wilds sleeping in the dirt and what not, hasnt dulled your inner city senses none"

"Not at all Professor, not at all" Arkail said "now about are mutual friend..."
Yes you caused a small stir somewhat taking  what you took last you where here.
Borrowed professor i simply borrowed, i doubt it was missed.
"Indeed it wasnt, still taking from the society " the Bartleby tutted. "You play the game better than that my dear boy". That's i why i am here Professor, to return it. It was most useful in recording and cataloging while i was in Draenor.

"yes.. yes Drrrrrraaaaennnnooor" Bartleby said drawing out the syllables "Did you find yourself out there?  your long lost mammy and pappy and all your fellow orcsies".

"You wound me proffessor , you wound me. I found a great many things" Arkail said mocking being offended.

"how many years have we known each other now dear boy, time is a odd concept, i find myself struggling to keep track off the professor asked in retort.

Near ten years, hmm near ten years professor. Arkail replied
Ah yes i remember when you came here curious thing you where. Barely a man and walked in bold as brass right into the center of The city, walking though it as if you hadnt a care in the world. I do remember wondering if your where brave or foolish.

Foolishly brave perhaps Professor?

Yes indeed dear boy the professor cackled. I remember how you came here and gazed dumbfounded at the books and tomes of the library. As if you hadnt seen so many in all your young days. I hadnt ...The concept of a story 'written' down perplexed me i must admit Arkail said as they rounded yet another corner. You always did love a story the professor said i remember after a while you began looking for your clan and people. very quaint.

"Indeed professor" Arkail said now aware of where he was being led "Indeed"
Did you ever find them? the Proffessor asked.

Arkail smirked and turned to answer when suddenly and blinding flash, followed by the dull rythmic thump of a spell hit him. It all began to go dark.  Arkail last hazy vison of The proffessor, his two guards and another figure standing over him faded into black.
A shame dear boy, a shame dear boy the professor whispered

Arkail awoke with a gasp as a bucket of ice cold water flew over him, inducing a coughing fit he was in a cage than was merely bigger than him.
Rest well did you Orc?
A figured loomed from the darkness into the light, Wearing a thick leather gown, his face strapped with leather holding it in place matted hair clumped in places.

"Ah Pembroke good to see you, just the man i was looking to see" Arkail said rubbing his neck his noticed it was was now burnt and blistered, covering some of his shoulder and chest from the spells effect.

Indeed! you will see a great many things where is my device? Pembroke asked hissing and almost spitting ichor.  In my bag there, good form of you not to look before asking Arkail said playfully.

I am ever a gentlemen Arkail. Pembroke returned

Arkail winced as the pain of his wound now began to throb, but he continued by saying. It was most useful.
Pembroke riffled though his bag producing the device a small mobile laboratory, that folded out with all the equipment that you'd would expect.
Arkail watched carefully then said. I am merely a novice of course but it was most helpful in examining the flora and fauna of Draenor even managed to to get some samples of its beasts and such.

And where are they? Pembroke hissed
They are not here of course I only came to return what i had borrowed Pembroke
Borrowed? borrowed? his hissed y-y- you sweet talked my fool of a sister into taking it you know she is half mad and near mindless. It was property of the royal apothecary society not to be taken by some ogred headed orc.

Pembroke continued to rant  as he riffled though arkail's things till he produced a monocle one of arkails many spares, before smashing it underfoot. I remember giving this to you,  you fool of a orc how we all laughed as you proudly wore it around the city. A orc who thought himself stylish, ha the very thought. Arkail My old friend you are in a  dangerous position.

Now, now pembroke arkail said calmy  i've never sweet talked anyone in my life. Dont spout innocence with me Arkail you can pretend to be incompentent all you like i remember how you talked those ogres out of freeing us and saved my fool of sister. Dont lie to me arkail you'r terrible at it. pembroke said now face to face with Arkail in his cage.

Now you're going to give me the location of these samples. you going to submiit to testing and then you're going to die painfully i might add, painfully yes. You're in the Undercity now and you're mine, my plaything.

Arkail rubbed his nose casually, ignoring the pain of his neck and shoulder and producing a monocle from a fold in his robe. carefully cleaning it before placing it on his face.
Pembroke grinned broadly Well you pretentious fool what now he said glaring at arkail though the bars.

Arkail cleared his throat
You know i might just tell you old friend, i might just tell you. Awfully stuffy in here and i am parched I dont suppose i could trouble you for a nice Silvermoon red. i am you guest yours of course, and you're ever the gentlemen.

Pembroke shook his head. Bartleby said you where as brazen as ever. You know i helped him gain his new position he owes me a great deal.

I have no doubt he does Arkail said in retort, But i wonder how much higher he would like to climb?  Always was ambitious If slightly dull. Do tell him to come out of the shadows i know he's there even if i cant see him. Very rude to eavesdrop.

A clapping echoed though the room
Bravo my dear boy! bravo! Your sense of awareness hasn't dimmed at all. we all know your scared always have been, now tell us of these samples before things get messy. You're arent talking your way out.  Not without a glass of red my friends not with out a glass of red. Arkail said his eyes darting between the two.

Hmmpt i dont want to make things messy for you, perhaps a day or two in there will change your mind. No doubt it will, no doubt it will Arkail replied with a smile


*Hours pass*


Arkail was sitting as comfortably as he could in his cage, they had left his medical pouch attached to his belt, and he had began to treat the burn wounds of his neck and shoulder covering them in a waxy, nice smelling balm like substance to aid healing.  When a small bony child like figure loomed into his view bony hands grasping the bars tightly it shoved its pony tailed head into the cage.

Arkail, Arkail you bad Ork! ha Arrrrkail! it said with a sinster child like malevoence.

It was Synthia Pembroke's sister she had been barely into her teens when struck down with plague and had kept her childlike wonder and innocence only now it was backed up with years of training as a deathstalker though rot had began to eat at here mind and she wasnt soon for this world.

Arkails supriseeses to see me yes. you said pembroke said that i said... wait. She blinked her eyes what was i saying?

Arkail rose to his feet as best he could in his cramped cage and smiled. "You where saying how i talked you into giving me one of the royal apothercary mobile labs to help your mindlessness my dear, remember?"

Mindlesssnessness she  playfully mimicked now welding a dagger, which appeared as if from nowhere flicking it casually along the bar making a clacking sound of steel on steel.

"Yess lab you took it bad ork arkailllll yes?"

How are things Synthia  you're are looking well. Arkail said as earnestly as he could
Synthia  beamed a wide grin he cheeks cracked and flaking away as she did. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Do you still like to play limericks Sythina how about we play a game of limericks? I win you let me out to talk to your brother. You win you get a kiss!

A kiss with steel and spite yes. She gurgled and chortled.

They had played this game many times and arkail had always won she could barely remember her name anymore let alone anything else. She had been before her deterioration a friend of Arkail a dangerous friend but a friend none the less. He almost felt sorry for her as she looked expectantly at him

Begin begin begin Arkail!

Arkail composed himself clearing his throat and adjusting his monocle.

"There once was this rogue from Darnassus
For some reason he moved like molasses
We saw him  sprint
But, nowhere he went
Then he asked "Has anyone seen my glasses"?"

She clapped playfully, frantically shaking the bars in excitement almost rabid
She did her best to compose herself to say one of her own

"There once was a, was a ork! named Arkail
he thought he was, he was, ever so Sarkall
Sarkall Tarkall... Markall Darkall Warkall!"

Arkail nodded and smirked as she fumbled for words. Go on dear you have something there. She placed a finger upon her chin for a time then let out a laugh.

You win Arkail, you go see my brother now! one more one more! Arkail smirked, but of course Synthia jammed a key into the cage's lock and the down swung open she jumped and dropped into a in a beast like prowl.

One more Arrrkail?

Arkail gathered his possessions strewn about the room, placing them in his satchel. He cleared his throat.

"There was an orc warlock named Roth
Who loved to show off his pet moth
He joined the battle nude
The priest was like Dude!
He sighed, "My pet only eats cloth". "

With this she dropped the aggressive posture and laughed playfully clapping her clawed hands.
You take care of yourself Arkail said. She didnt hear him she was attempting to repeat what he had said.

I'll just go see your brother he said as he left.
Arkail had no intention of doing such he had played this game many many times and had returned what he had taken. He was near the exit towards the elevator when he saw both Pembroke and Bartleby. He bowed and saluted dramatically as he stepped into the elevator. Pembroke began waving his bony arms obviously shouting and hissing curses, but Bartleby simply put a hand on his associate's shoulder, doubled over  laughing he dramatically Saluted back to Arkail.

Arkail ascended to the surface level and the weather hadnt improved much, He boarded the first zeppelin back to Orgimmar muttering to himself with a broad smirk how nice it was to see his old friends, but he did belong with his family for now. Arkail happy in the knowledge that no matter how far he went Undercity would always be his home set sail for Ogrimmar

[Name:]

Name: Arkail Blastblade
Alias: Ark, Scribe
Rank reached: Gul'thauk

Age: Early 30's
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Clan: Unknown
Class:Scribe
Alignment: True neutral

Family: None, unknown
Known Friends: Fewer
Known Enemies: Few

Appearance:
A scrawny Orc in his early 30's of average height. His face is a palid hue of green. Wearing the finest of robes or suits of mageweave silk, wolf fur and light leathers.
Upper right side of his face has heavy surgical scarring from cheek to forehead encircling his right eye and his face is paralysed down that side, but he has regained function in the right side of his mouth so he can speak clearly.
Normally carrying a simple steel rapier that tends to glow faintly. A practise he picked up after he chaneled Arcane magic though a blade to defeat a Bull Kodo for his Om'riggor. Earning him the name Blastblade.

A white wolf mask hangs from his belt. A kodo skin satchel on his shoulder filled to brim with books and inks and quills.  A decent sized pouch on his belt which seems to be medical supplies

Speaks with a hint of lordaeron accent as if he has spent many years around it..

Is quiet to a fault, observing and listening.
Reads a lot and is normally writing or drawing his experiences with the tribe.



Personality:
Is one to watch and wait and take note. He speaks his mind when he needs to. but Will gladly correct or challenge an opinion. Not really a people person he prefers his books and learning. Can speak a vast amount of languages yet is terrible at small talk or leadership. Quite possibly insane.

History:
A scribe, historian & linguist

*Quick version*

After the fall of the Interment camps he wandered aimlessly searching for purpose as it did not lay upon the battlefield.While visiting Undercity he re-discovered his love of history he had as a cub in the libraries of Undercity. It was there he discovered he had a knack for languages and spent near a decade there learning the history of the peoples of Azeroth, its flora & fauna with a amateur interest in the arcane for self defense purposes...naturally

While researching Orcish tribes, he decided on a whim to get first hand information on the Orcish tribe The Red Blades. After meeting & talking with them he decided to join, eventually reaching the rank of Gul'thauk His loyalty to the blades is unquestioned just don't ask him to train newbloods. Spent the last few months training in Dalaran, recently fled the city. Mind is not what it once was his self imposed exile has damaged him more than he knows. Self imposed wards on his mind keeps it together


Things you may know about this character:
Thirst for knowledge, history & lore is limitless. Even if other orcs see it as useless. Reads/Writes/sketches a lot... likes to listen to tales & grand stories. An advocate for all knowledge being open and free to study. Regardless of peoples pre-conceived perception of it. The only thing that is dangerous is that which is unknown or misunderstood

Things you may not know about this character:
Misses Undercity and world in general greatly. Has been advancing his magical training in Dalaran, but has recently fled the city. Has been tortured and experimented on various times while living in Undercity, sometimes unwillingly sometimes because he thought it might teach him something other times he doesnt remember.

[The Bridge]

The Bridge

(( Optional dramatic mood musics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0TBY1U8Nlo My apologies for missed grammatical errors))

A Orc stood upon a bridge looking down into the swift water twenty feet below, bodies of several green Orcs hung from it. The Orc's hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a thick cord his face beaten and broken. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack fell to the level of his knees. Some supporting the metals  of the bridge supplied a footing for him and his executioners two Orcs of the Iron Horde, directed by a older Orc and an Alpha armed with the weapon of his rank. A guard at each end of the bridge stood with his rifle in the position vertical in front of the left shoulder, the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straight across the chest a well trained, formal and unnatural position. It did not appear to be the duty of these two Orcs to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge; they merely blockaded the two ends.


Beyond the guards nobody was in sight; the road ran straight away into a  dark inky forest for a hundred yards, then, curving, lost to view. Doubtless there was an iron horde outpost farther along. The other bank of the stream was  a stockade of  tightly spaced sharpened tree trunks, with room for rifles, from a single opening through could be seen the muzzle of a iron cannon. Midway of the slope between the bridge and fort were the spectators a single company of infantry in line the butts of the rifles on the ground, the barrels inclining slightly backward against the right shoulder, the hands crossed upon the stock. A Orc of rank stood at the right of the line, the business end of his axe upon the ground, his left hand resting upon his right which rested upon the hilt of his weapon. Not a Orc moved. The warband faced the bridge, staring like stone, emotionless. The guards, facing the banks of the stream, might have been statues to adorn the bridge. The Alpha stood with folded arms, silent, observing the work of his subordinates, but making no sign.


The Orc who was being hanged was  about thirty years of age. He was  dressed in a tattered and torn red robe, the look of a of scholar. His features were  average a straight nose now broken, firm mouth now bloodied, face now swollen , his balding dark hair was combed straight back, falling behind his ears to the collar of his formally well tailored robe now in tatters. He had a pointed beard; his eyes were large and dark red, and had a kindly expression. Evidently this was no warrior.
The preparations being complete. The older Orc turned to the Alpha, saluted and placed himself immediately behind him, who then moved forward. The robed orc was prodded to the edge of the bridge with the Alphas axe hilt His face had not been covered nor his eyes bandaged. He looked a moment around him, then let his gaze wander to the swirling water of the stream racing  beneath his feet.


He closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his home and tribe. The water, turned  to a purplish blue by the midnight sky, the brooding mists under the banks at some distance down the stream, the fort, the soldiers all had distracted him. And now he became conscious of a something new. Striking through the thought of his tribe was a sound which he could neither ignore nor understand, a sharp, distinct, metallic percussion like the stroke of a blacksmith's hammer upon an anvil; it had the same ringing quality. He wondered what it was, and whether immeasurably distant or near by it felt like both. Its was regular, as if the tolling of  death itself. He awaited each stroke with impatience and he knew not why. The intervals of silence grew progressively longer, the delays became maddening. With their greater infrequency the sounds increased in strength and pitch. They hurt his ears like the thrust of a dagger; he feared he would scream. What he heard was the ticking of his pocketwatch....

He opened his eyes and saw again the water below him. If I could free myself," he thought, I might throw off the noose and dive into the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming, with luck reach the bank, take to the woods and get away. The tribe by now are away far this place.... Free, safe to fight again another day.

As these thoughts, were flashed into the red robed Orc's brain the Alpha nodded to the Older Orc. The Older orc stepped forward giving a single nudge.


The robed Orc fell straight downward through the bridge a blur colour, he lost consciousness from this state he was awakened what felt like only a moment later. Agony shot from his neck  through every inch of his body, his eyes and limbs. They seemed on fire burning him. He was conscious of nothing but a feeling of life  near the edge of death. Then all at once, with terrible suddenness, the light about him shot upward with the noise of a loud splash; a roar all he could hear, and all was cold and all was dark. He knew that the rope had broken and he had fallen into the stream. He opened his eyes in the darkness and saw above him a gleam of dark hazy purple light, but  it was fading. He was  sinking, the light became fainter and fainter. Then it began to grow and he knew that he was rising toward the surface. To be hanged and drowned," he thought? "that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be shot. No i refuse to be not today not now to fel with it."

A sharp pain in his wrist saw that he was instinctively  trying to free his hands. He gave the struggle all his strength. The bindings fell away; his arms parted, the hands dimly seen on each side in the light. He watched them  briefly  then the other pounced upon the noose at his neck. Tearing it off in a single motion. His neck ached horribly; his brain was on fire; his heart, which had been fluttering faintly, gave a great leap, trying to force itself out at his mouth. His whole body was fire.  His hands beat the water vigorously with quick, downward strokes, forcing him to the surface. He felt his head emerge; his eyes were blinded by the light; his lungs engulfed a great gulp of air, which instantly he expelled in what could only be described by himself as the loudest roar he had ever given. expelling  a cascade of water skyward as he broke the surface.


He was now in fully aware. he was keen and alert.  He felt the ripples upon his face and heard their separate sounds as they struck. He looked at the forest on the bank of the stream, saw the individual trees, the leaves saw the very insects upon them: He noted the prismatic colors in all upon a million blades of purple blue grass.
He had come to the surface facing down the stream; in a moment the visible world seemed to wheel slowly round and he saw the bridge, the fort, the soldiers upon the bridge, the older Orc, the alpha, the two guards.... his executioners. They were in silhouette against the purple blue sky. They shouted pointing at him. The Alpha had grabbed a rifle, and fired ; the others were joining him in a panic.

The bullets struck the water within a few inches of his head, spattering his face with spray. The Orc in the water saw the eye of the alpha on the bridge gazing through the scope of the rifle.
The red robed Orc turned round; he was again looking into the forest on the bank opposite the fort. The Alpha roaring behind

"ORCS ! . . Shoulder arms! . . . Ready! . . . Aim! . . . Fire, FIRE, FIRE !"

The red robed Orc dived as deep as he could. The water roared in his ears, yet he heard the dulled thunder of the volley and, rising again toward the surface.
As he rose to the surface, gasping for breath, he saw that he was farther down stream nearer to safety.  The iron horde fired again, independently and ineffectually in a maddened frenzy.
The red robed Orc saw all this over his shoulder; he was now swimming with all his might
The alpha," he thought, "will not make that  error a second time. It is as easy to dodge a volley as a single shot.  but he has probably already given the command to fire at will. Grom give me haste, I cannot dodge them all"

An appalling splash within two yards of him was followed by a loud, rushing sound, which seemed to travel back through the air to the fort and died in an explosion which stirred the very river to its core.
A rising sheet of water engulfed him. The cannon had joined the hunt.
In a few moments he was flung upon the gravel at the foot of the left bank of the stream. He dug his fingers and feet into the sand. he began to sprint.
A whiz and rattle of gun shot around the branches by his head he sprinted deeper and deeper into the forest, galloping nearly to the point of losing balance though the branches and under growth them whipping and tearing and his face and body.


All that day he traveled, wandered lost. The forest seemed like no other; nowhere did he discover a break in it, not even a single dirt track. There was something odd in this half realized revelation.

By midnight he was near done, but the thought of home and tribe urged him on. At last he found a small  dirt road which led him in what he only hoped to be the right direction. The black, blue bodies of the trees formed a  oddly straight wall on both sides of the path, Overhead, as he looked up, shone stars looking unfamiliar and grouped in strange constellations. He was sure they were arranged in some order which had a secret and evil significance. The woods on either side was full of singular noises, he distinctly heard whispers in an unknown language.. he continued on and on streams of trees and path rushed past his vision as if time itself had abandoned all reason.
He finally came to a clearing...He saw his tribe? He was in Garadar? Home!  Warm smiles greeted him roars of joy The red robed orc stumbled up from knees looking up to greet them.. Mok'......

A blinding white light blazes all about him with a sound like the shock of thunder then all is darkness...

Arkail Blastblade was dead; his body, with a broken neck,  swung gently from side to side beneath the bridge in time with the others.....

Arkail shot up out of his sleeping furs sweating, shaking and in shock, looking about grasping at his bedding.

"What was that!?! What in fels name was that?!" he roared to himself, to anyone to anything.

All was quiet outside all was dark.

Arkail sat quietly in the gloom of his tent.

[Resolve]

_{Optional mood music https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cIrefaQWNU}

Resolve

"Breathe in, breathe out. Calm yourself let your heartbeat settle, even if the world around you is burning. Feel the ley line energy you've tapped into, control it, move with it, don't let it control you."

Arkail muttered this under his breath, over and over. His jaw still aching, still healing from his last encounter with this "Iron Horde" He stood ready in front of the portal with his tribe, his friends and the rest of the banners.

It wasn't fear that gripped him like he thought it would. He was feeling... ready? A feeling which confused him. The night before had been sleepless. He had experienced this many times before. During the rebellion and multiple other skirmishes, but now standing here he was just... ready come what may.

He had returned just in time for the assault on the portal. Many had been given time to say goodbye to family, mates, lovers, children.

Arkail had none of these, he instead returned to the Undercity it was to be only the briefest of visits, but if anywhere on Azeroth he considered home besides being with his tribe, it was there.

He walked the dank darkened streets, he remembered leaving here once. A life time ago it felt now, full of arrogant, naive bluster, for his book on Orcish tribes and stories. To seek out the Red blade last to be cataloged and recorded in his book. He never did publish it... shame he thought to himself. Would have been nice to leave something of mine behind, the manuscript had been destroyed in the rebellion in the siege of Zoram gar.  Using his life's work as a cudgel to defend a fellow rebel's life from Kor'kron axes. A worthwhile trade. One that he paid gladly.

But now he stood facing his own personal apocalypse. The dark portal loomed over them, the war cries ringing out. His name, his exploits would be unremembered, even if they succeeded in destroying the portal and all the hopes that it would entail come true, It did not matter. He would play his part, he, Arkail Blastblade the scribe, did not matter. He was Red Blade first, everything else was second. He was ready.

He finished his mantra, never was very good at arcane anyways, never really mastered it. For him it was part science, part instinct, he never did finish his Gul'thuak training, find time for a mate, children and all that entailed no matter he thought with a wry if sad smile.

The cry went out and they charged, Arkail roared his voice joining with the others. He drew his blade the soft glow humming gently and charged with tribe...

Chaos ensued
He was still alive once he reached the portal somehow he had cut his way though. He stepped though to be met with a sight that took his breath away, a near endless sea of uncorrupted orcs stood before him, explosions peppered the ground  and sky around arkail, but he ran forward the world behind him for all he cared no longer existed. Allies and enemies fell around him. Arkail moved only forward striking down several in his path, he laughed as he ran mad wild uncontrolled laughter. A whistling noise barreled down upon him He looked up to see a cannon ball of fire and metal hurtling towards him. Arkail took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A deafening blast shook him from all notion of reality and time, he felt as it he was both falling and ascending all at once.

Arkail hit the ground the hard rolling as he did.


**Hours pass**


Arkail opened his eyes, he was staring at a unknown yet familiar sky. A sky he had heard tales of as a cub, a tale he had pestered the adults for repeatedly. He always felt even as a cub there was power in tales. That's all history ever was anyway: The best tales. And those are worth remembering.

In a daze he got up and wandered forward, looking back he stared at a broken portal in the distance and wondered if it was important, He was dead wasn't he, he felt sure of it. A portal was important but for what?

To close!  All at once his mind racing to catch up with him. What, where was he? Arkail spun around he was in a dense jungle frantically. He was alive and barring a few minor cuts and several painful welts, burns and bruises he was still amongst the living.
But now what ? Where were the others, he alone couldn't be the only survivor? It was then a arrow twanged into a tree infront of him, Arkail stood motionless blinking at it like a Gnoll that had been asked to figure out the square root of a prime number. It wasn't until several other of the previous arrow compatriots flew towards him that Arkail sprang into a full speed gallop, Arkail ran as fast his legs could carry him over and below roots and vines he leapt. The arrows bouncing off the rocks and underbrush around him. His breathing growing harder it would soon be over.

Till a single outstretched brown skinned arm thick with muscle reached out and dragged him into the darkness in a single swift motion. Arkail went to scream but found the single arm had a fellow equally muscle bound arm to silence his mouth, muffling his scream. A thunder of footsteps and commotion fled past Arkail's eyes. A moment passed and he found himself freed, if only now weaponless, All Arkail could see was the arms in the darkness it was inspecting his blade.

Stranger! The darkness ridden arms said. State your name, you came though the portal, Yes? you blew it up ? You breathe loudly stop it...
That was a lot of questions to get in a short space of time. I am Arkail Blastblade of the Red Blade, i did come though the portal and i am glad it is closed, I apologies for the breathing Undercity living takes its toil and all ...

"Hmmpt" was the only reply, What manner of blessing is upon your blade its glows and sings.

That's a magic infused into the steel when i passed my Om'riggor i...

"Om'riggor huh you strangers practise that...odd"

Arkail swallowed hard and straightened in muddy and tattered robe. "Might i ask who you are, may i thank my rescuer properly where am i ? Where is my tribe what happens now and i would like my blade....if i may ask also."

"You talk oddly" the shadowed arms replied.

"I am Vrakk of the frostwolves a scout you're in Gorgrond, near Tanaan, still. A dangerous place for a noisy child to be

" The figure loomed from the dark inspecting Arkail. He was no older than he yet his eyes showed an almost animal quality. He inspected the blade briefly before tossing it to Arkail. You're safe for now, but i'd advise traveling with me back to Frostfire, Several of my tribe were sent to scout the portal, now there is no more portal My chieftain will need to be informed, Come Arkail of the red blade you travel with me for now...

And so they set out.

[Munch’s Odyssey]

(Okay, so Munch isn't a blade but . This is just a little short story about him and how he's now in Undercity.
As he misses his good greens and all the good eats. The Munchkin is back  )

Munch’s Odyssey

A small figure leapt from tree to tree scurrying up and down their trunks and branches. It was dusk in Ashenvale. Quiet now, the war had passed and had finished. The creature came to branch outreaching into a clearing the blood red sunset illuminating the figure, it was a Giest, it was Munch. A wretched creature with the basest of instincts, it’s leathery skin showing though it’s torn armour most still sewn to his flesh but he was battle torn and ragged.

Munch gurgled and clicked tilting his head, his only visible eye darting  around surveying the scene from high upon it’s branch, the noose around it’s neck hung like a twisted trophy.  

The “good greens” had gone some time ago,  their fighting with the “bads” as he called them had passed, he returned to their camps one day to find them gone, only a small force remained, a force he didn’t recognise. Munch would have missed them if he was aware of such emotions, but munch only felt one thing and that was hunger and during his time with the good greens he had fed well and often.

But now he was alone again.

“Munch hunt, munch kill, munch eat” A gurgled mantra, he spat out as he sat perched upon the branch.

Still there was plenty to feed upon besides rats. War scavengers had come to pick clean the remains of the war, the shinys and he stalked them with a gluttonous glee, striking from behind or from above.

It was then upon his branch this Ashenvale evening Munch saw the figures beneath him a tall "bone man" as he called it and a small green creature, Munch coiled into a attack posture waiting. His green black tongue salivating and dripping a green ichor. Munch watched as they searched though the shiny they loved the shiny. Munch watched as the bone man disappeared from view, leaving the small one alone. It was then Munch struck swift and silent as he dropped upon it with ravenous fury clawing, eating and biting. It was a frenzy of bile and blood. But Munch in his haste to feed had failed to notice the bone man behind him. Grinning his eyes glinting in fading forest floor light.

Munch shrieked in pain as electrified net trapped and surrounded  him, Munch howled and retched fighting against it . The bone man approached, a crackling stick in his bony hand and Munch soon fell to the darkness that followed.

The hunter had become hunted.

Munch awoke in a cage his vision hazy at first, Munch shot into action gnawing at the bars scurrying across the cages ceiling and walls frantic to find an exit, a exit which wasn’t there. A croaked laughter stopped Munch his tracks the bone man loomed from the darkness of the room and croaked a laugh again. Munch let out a low guttural growl.

“Little pet, now, now, best not damage yourself any further cost me great expense to ship you here to Undercity, You what Undercity is don’t you… hmm? Never mind  I’ve always wanted a giest you shall be a fine pet”

Munch gurgled and hissed clawing and swiping though the bars at his captor, Words swam though his frenzied mind :” under city…pet, trapped, hunted, prey, kill”

I am Archibald Pembroke, little pet and you shall call me master i think i'll call you gurgles. The bone man said as he playfully avoided Munch’s strikes though the bars

Days passed and Munch’s  hunger grew. The bone man had sent munch into the blackness with a stick of sky lights as he called it. Each time munch awoke his armour sewn back onto his skin, his open wounds closed shut. Each time he taunted Munch poking, jeering and laughing.

Munch only ever formed the words in retort to this:  Munch kill…munch eat…

It seemed to be of great amusement to the bone man. The bone man talked at length with other bone men about him. All munch could was watch and wait the hunger grew each and every day his mind becoming more and more frenzied.

After many more days the bone man approached him his stick crackling with the sky lights a sick and twisted grin upon its face

“ My little pet you are resistant I was told that by now you would have submitted to the hunger, a giest without a master is a rare find indeed and you shall be mine lets see what the warlocks of the magic quater can do with you hmm? I can take away all the suffering all the hunger, submit!”

Munch replied his simple mantra “Munch kill…Munch eat”

“The bone man flew into a rage I am your master you are MINE!”

The bone man attempted to once again bring darkness upon him with his crackling stick of sky lights, but this time no darkness befell munch. Munch shrieked in anger rocking the cage back and forth again and again he was struck with the stick, but each time munch resisted sending him in a deeper rage.
The cage tipped… and the rusted hinges of the cage door popped.

Munch’s time had come in the struggle the bone man had be knocked to his knees. Now they were at eye level and mere feet from each other, The bone foolishly reached for his stick and struck at Munch but it was too late and leapt upon him clawing and biting the bone man struggled to his feet knocking jars and sending tables flying as he was being eaten.

Munch clenched his jaws around its throat and bit down tearing its throat and serving the bone man’s head. Ichor sprayed from the wound, splashing across the walls and floor and the now headless body jolted and jerked across the room.  Munch riding him, still clawing. The bone man’s lifeless body slumped finally upon a table of vials. Munch continued his attack, till he was interrupted by the sound of glass rolling upon stone. He watched it roll across the room with childish mirth gurgling happily upon its odd sound….Rolling towards a flame.

A deafening crack and a blinding flash engulfed the room, sending Munch flying hitting a wall with a sickening thud, then dropping him though a rusted sewer grate, Munch’s body bounced and smashed it’s way down the pipe into the undercitys sewers with a splash. There Munch bobbed along the current with the rest of the detritus and waste of the city.
********

********

Munch awoke in a frenzy, a typhoon of green sewer water cascaded as he awoke flying into the air and clinging the sewers roof.

Munch looked around surveying his surroundings his low guttural growl echoing down the long dark sewer way. Where had he been, what had he done, where was he?

Munch knew only one thing... That he was hungry.

He scurried along the ceiling and walls of the sewer ways gurgling his mantra though the darkness

Munch hunt… Munch kill… Munch eat…

(((picture from tcg art))

Wasn't sure if there was already a topic somewhere on the forums already but anyways :3.

I thought i'd post this handy addon for rbgs or finding raids, without using the soul crushing horror which is trade chat. Im not a really a raider anymore, but a friend of mine who still raids swears by it. For any of you interested, link below on curse

http://www.curse.com/addons/wow/oqueue

[Finding the exiled.]

A short story of how i ended up in Winterspring.


Finding the exiled.

Arkail had been only been in Orgrimmar only a few hours and from what he had seen he wasn’t impressed, Fear gripppped the city it was palpable Kor’Khon seemed to be funneling non orcs this way and that, the markets of Orgrimmar in which he had heard so much about full of exotic wares and food from every place on Azeroth were now barren and empty.  He made his way though the streets windows slammed shut as he drew near. Out the corner of his eye there were movements in the shadows people conversing making deals. Nice to know the black market still flourished criminals always found a way to make money it seemed no matter the city or situation.

He arrived a tavern and when he entered the entire population of it stopped and turned to face Arkail. Arkail wetted his lips and stared back ready to see what would happen, after a few moments the patrons of the tavern returned to their games of chance and conversations.  He sat down and ordered a mug of wine  much to the innkeepers amusement and mirth  he was a elderly orc of Draenor origin brown skinned untainted… interesting Arkail thought, he had no time to quiz the old orc for his life story he needed a plan to find these red blades maybe they had been merged into another tribe, he scribbled in his journal, occasionally sipping from his tankard stopping every now and then to ponder any or all situations.

Several hours passed and he had kept to himself it was now dusk and the tavern filled up more all were orcs no other races could be seen, the taverns mood was sombre like something that was afraid to be said. Arkail was lost in this thought when the Old orc innkeeper brought him a fresh mug of wine and with the swiftest of movements muttered something into his ear.
“That fella over there has been watching you since you came in do you know him?” The old orc gestured subtly with his eyes to a darkened corner of the tavern a silhouette of large orc could be seen unmoving staring though his face was hidden. Arkail didn’t respond and the old orc snorted something about the youth of today and went back to his duties. Arkail stared back into the darkness shrouden figure he was  intrigued moments passed and he finished his wine with a gulp, he headed towards the large silhouette Are you looking for something friend he inquired to the shadowy figure, the figure only lit a pipe his face now visible he stared back and said.“No, I  believe you are, come to the cleft of shadow alone… scholar of undercity in one hour you will find what you seek.

*A hour passed*.

He found himself walking though the darkened streets of the cleft the place was empty, a eerie kind of empty he felt he was being watched… suddenly it all went dark he was hit by some kind of magic he was bound and his head covered by a bag a final blow rendered him unconscious. He woke to the sound of a conversation which he couldn’t make out it, he could  tell it was a argument his vision stopped spinning and he see could 4-5 various people gathered around the dimly lit room. A reassuring hand fell upon his shoulder the orc from the bar moved in front of Arkail and said: “Sorry brother a nessercary precaution we saw your little display as you entered the city with those off duty kor’khons”.
“Kor’khons? Arkail replied what? Kor’khons those lunk headed sons of ogres were Kro’khons ?”
He let out a chuckle and said
“what do you fine gentlemen want of me then?“ rubbing the back of head he felt a thick raised lump there.
"Your not  a friend of the kor’khon or our “warchief”  may the ancestors tear him apart in the next world he said with a hiss, I’m Brokka Felfoul a student warlock the people you see around you are friends."

Arkail shifted his gazed around the assembled group each nodding as they where introduced.
Janos of the forsaken a priest of shadow she entered your mind as you slept she is the reason you’re not dead and that we greet you as a friend. Yuji Flamebender  a shaman of the warsong tribe, he knows where you will find what you seek and his friend and blood brother Huruk Bloodhoof a sunwalker we are a part of the resistance. He nodded at each of them, saying quite a group of individuals indeed…

*Hours pass dawn was coming*

Brokka had explained in detail the extent of the pit of madness that Orgrimmar had become no free thinking individual was safe  from the Kor’khons grasp and that they were planning small exodus whenever they where able from the city and explained that this is where he came in they needed more firepower to break though the blockades that stopped people leaving if things went bad. The city freely he said let  most people enter, none could leave. Orgrimmar had become a honey trap.

It was then for the first time Yuji spoke a gruff, honourable old orc: “You seek the red blade tribe they have been exiled I believe they are close to Winterspring as we speak, a long trek, i'm sure with our help you will reach them before they move out of reach” Huruk the sunwalker interjected and said: “They also have no love for the warchief they still believe in the horde though, brother Yuji do you? “ Yuji slammed his fist upon the table with a grin he said: ” My life for the horde”

"Yes yes" said Brokka "lets not get off topic we need to leave as soon as possible Arkail I know you’ve been studying arcane and are quite the Arcanist even if you wont admit it we will need that extra firepower, we will be transporting various like minded citizens though the blockade are you up it?"“I’m a simple scholar Arkail” said with a snort of defiance. “We have no time for games Arkail are you with us" Brokka said he face reddening. “A warlock that cares for his fellow man my, my we are a quite a group but i'm with you if it gets me to what I seek”Brokka smirked and said  â€œYou will find more about oneself when you take your head out of a book and learn what the real world is Arkail you will find that out soon enough believe me.” Suddenly with a hiss Jolan The priest interrupted and spoke: "we have been found we must leave now or perish" her Orcish was terrible, yet the intent was clear.
Brokka flew into a state of readiness grabbing things and giving orders Arkail watched him he was a boy even by his standards yet so driven and focused most pleasing to see he watched him attatched a message to a foot of raven and let it loose. "Damm them blasted Kor’khons" Brokka said as he spat.

They rushed to the meeting point a small group of people had gathered, simple familes mostly, all well armed carrying their meager possesions. It was then the Kor’khon choose to reveal themselves surrounding them, they had been betrayed a Young orc from the exiles gathered laughed as and he went to join the kor’khons, as he did Brokka flew into a rage a dark bolt of energy burst from his palm spilting it open and striking the betrayer in the back of the head sending flipping him over in rain of red inards, dead.

Battle was upon them, Kor’khon were taking no prisoners. Arkail kept his head down doing his best to keep himself alive striking out with his stave and letting out a few bolt of energy here and there not wanting to exert himself he tried to remain calm, this was his first battle since he left the camps many of the group gathered were dead still clinging to their possessions.
It was then in the chaos he noticed the forsaken priest had been overwhelmed Arkail watched helplessly as she fell spouting curses upon them shadows dancing around her as she disappeared behind the stabbing blades of the Kor'khons.Overwhelmed they began to slowly try and retreat to the gates, things seemed bleak. It was then Yuji roared a gout of flame and created a brief wall of flame and some protection, he had been wounded mortally several arrows had pierced him, with a snort he growled
“ Flee brothers flee  I’ve got this..Ancestors give me strength” Blood pouring from his mouth , he roared and charged over the flames engaging many Kor’khons at once in an attempt of holding them back. With a sombre nod Brokka did his best to round up the few remaining survivors not clinging to ddead relative and began to sprint though the gates and too their waiting mounts. It was then Arkail noticed the tauren sunwalker was not with them he turned to see the Tauren re-enter the city weapon raised, Brokka gave Arkail a glance and both knew why he returned. Interesting Arkail thought  the tales are true Tauren where loyal to those considered friends the nature of the oath, it was greater than there instinct of self preservation. He had hoped to speak with the Tauren about his vocation. A pity such a waste.

They reached the town of razor hill some time later, it was there Brokka and his survivors split company with Arkail  they where heading south he was heading east to find the exiled Red blade he thought briefly of joining Brokka and his party south,  his journey felt more important he should record and learn all he can from the tribe. He knew that now more than ever the importance of recording ones history because that it is all we truly leave behind for the future and the future of the Orcish raced seemed in danger of heading back to the old ways of senseless war and mindless bloodlust. He mounted the Wyvern and set a past east for Winterspring.

*Hours later*

The cold night air of Wintersping lapped at face he patted the Wyvern letting the flight master take it, Arkail entered a small settlement of goblins, noise of revilement could be heard coming from it’s tavern Orcish songs and voices could be heard.

Arkail entered the tavern…

edited twice thanks Rorir due to god awful grammar and spelling thank you again