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2023 Dec 29 21:06:51
I think Rashka.exe has stopped working.
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA... A.
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2023 Jul 22 22:17:06
Such shouty people in here, gosh.
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Remember to shout your lungs out every once in a while!!
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Shouting here to make sure everyone knows that I'm still here!
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<dances>
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Remember to check both ways before crossing the plains!
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I too am testing the shoutbox for non-nefarious reasons.
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2021 May 22 13:55:49
This is me testing the shoutbox, because shouting is a great stress relief and it would be a shame if it doesn't work.
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2020 Nov 20 00:14:09
Ice cream for all
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Oh god. The warlock found the shoutbox!
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2020 Sep 23 16:42:21
THE SHOUTBOX. Omg. This was like proto-Discord.
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2020 Aug 23 09:36:02
*Grabs a camera to record what happens*
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2020 Aug 22 16:24:43
*prods shoutbox*
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2020 Jun 16 10:34:12
<dances>
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2020 Jun 05 13:32:27
Swedish Pagans?
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2020 Jun 01 09:45:09
You're invoking the wrong gods in this place!

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Rise of Clan Felblade 

Written by Sadok June 23, 2015, 06:43:00 PM

Rise of Clan Felblade

Play video for article soundtrack.

“By Mannoroth’s blood, who would -ever- have thought I would be glad to see you again?”

Akesh the Poisoner’s eyes shone a sickly bright green, sparkling keenly with infinite malevolence as he regarded his captive. Bound in chains with a coarse burlap sack over his head, the prisoner still seemingly had some fight in him — he squirmed and growled, struggling against his bonds even now.

Akesh paused, his clawed hands clasping together, as he savoured the sight of the captive squirming and flailing in the jungle muck and vines. His prisoner’s once-gleaming armor was now filthy, disheveled and ragged; and at last, he let out a muffled wheeze of protest and ceased his writhing, just panting pathetically now.  

Not broken yet… but so close to the brink, the Poisoner thought. Akesh’s cracked lips parted and twisted into a maddened smirk, as he afforded himself a moment to gloat, a guttural chuckle rumbling from his taut, muscular body. The captive was still, his chest rising and falling weakly. 

“Let us see that face once again,” Akesh grinned down to the captive, pulling the sack off his head with a sadistic flourish. 

Akesh’s piercing eyes narrowed as he scrutinised Grenth Stonebrow, now glaring silently at him through tired-looking slits. Grenth’s long, narrow face was still unmistakably proud and brown-skinned — but covered in cuts, bruises and sores, with an overgrown and tangled beard. Even now, he was still crowned with his iconic armored wolf-mask. All the better, the Poisoner mused to himself. 

“Did my orcs mistreat you, oh King of Wolves? I must humbly beg forgiveness, I only commanded that you were brought back… alive.” Grenth gave no response, so the Poisoner snapped his sharp ochre fangs in amusement and spoke again. 

“Life is full of choices,” Akesh lectured, pacing restlessly back and forth amongst the thick jungle overgrowth. “When I rose against you and your kind to serve a greater master, you chose to condemn me to exile rather than take my head. That was a mistake.

“And then, when I returned to seize -my- Clan and defeated you, the mighty Wolfking fled and went into exile himself. That too was a mistake. Two long winters you hid from us. And you hid well, far from our prying eyes. But there is no escape save for death. I might have killed you, once. But now, I have other plans for you.”

4729_23_06_15_6_08_11

Akesh flexed his grotesque claws idly, then slowly withdrew from his satchel a rounded flask glowing ominously with eldritch glyphs. It contained a bubbling green liquid, and Grenth could feel its heat irradiating outwards. A dire energy emanated from within the flask, its very presence casting shadows about the undergrowth. 

Grenth’s weary bloodshot eyes widened at the sight, and he spoke at last.

“…No.”

Akesh’s manic grin returned. “I see fear in your eyes, my old friend. But there is no reason to be afraid.”

The Poisoner straightened his back, looking at the flask as if momentarily mesmerized. Grenth’s eyes darted up and down his form with a kind of exhausted panic, noticing for the first time the strange growths protruding from Akesh’s shoulderblades.

“Unto Grenth of the Line of Kraag, I bestow this gift — the blood of rebirth, the nectar of ecstacy, the same blessing of unity offered to all orcs by the great Gul’dan and his Shadow Council. We have all drank eagerly, and we have been reborn as Clan Felblade — now submit to me and accept this gift, or you will know the pain of a thousand deaths.”

Grenth’s jaw clenched, and straining against his iron bonds, he spoke slowly, his indignant voice still carrying the same weight and authority of a Chieftain. 

“By the spirits, I will not bow,” he spat at Akesh, “I will not bend my knee to you or any orc, and I will not submit to this madness. You have damned our Clan twice over, foul Poisoner, and enslaved its soul for the sake of your thirst for power.”

Akesh looked back at Grenth and cackled madly, his cracked ashen skin visible beneath his iron armor. “What you say amuses me! The only thirst is bloodthirst, and I have tasted the enemy’s blood, trampled the weak underfoot, and delivered -my- Clan from hiding in caves and shivering in the snow to conquerers serving a Legion with power beyond your reckoning!”

Grenth shook his head sadly. “By my honor, I will never—"

Akesh interrupted Stonebrow, snarling. “Silence,” he demanded. “Now -you- will listen and I will speak, wretch. As I have said, life is full of choices — and as you have chosen to refuse this gift, you will have it forced upon you.”

Akesh clenched the flask tight in his grip as he began to chant in the dae’mon’s tongue. Grenth growled angrily as his body began to levitate from the undergrowth, still immobilised by his bonds. With a flick of his wrist and more foul words, Akesh invoked a circle of demonic sigils on the ground under Stonebrow, who let out a howl of intense pain. The iron chains binding him began to glow with the same bright-green sigils, the metal heating up and scalding his flesh as it began to fuse with his skin.

Entirely helpless and suspended in mid-air, Grenth writhed in agony. His chains were now permanently melded to his form, smoke rising from his burnt flesh. Akesh took slow strides towards him, still muttering the dark invocations — and uncorked the flask, waves of heat and light irradiating upwards. He forced the flask to his former Chieftain’s lips and spoke forcefully.

“Drink.”

About the author

Sadok registered at Orcs of the Red Blade on March 25, 2011, 09:39:09 PM and has posted 1358 posts in the boards since then. Last visit was April 02, 2024, 10:42:06 AM.