Orcs of the Red Blade
Tribe Annals => The Campfire => Topic started by: Bamm on May 06, 2020, 03:44:27 PM
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Frustration and acceptance
He had somehow found the Red Blade, he had fewer and fewer moments of clarity he remembered booty bay, he remembered ungoro talking to two orcs like him lost his own kind, if he could save them he could perhaps save himself or the memory of himself. For years now he had felt himself slipping away time for what it was, was almost done.
The voice, sounding like his own now, never left him now he felt it
“ ARRRRKILLLL ARRRRRKILLL ARRRRKILLL”
The voice rattled in the base of his skull up over his ears clashing as they met in the center of his mind. The wards he had placed to keep his mind safe breaking crumbling all his focus maintaining them. But now he was amongst red blade again. How had he found them again. His mind was a fog they where there familiar faces and new, but one blood. New voices in his mind but not. Portals, translocation self scarifcation, that was his saving grace up until now he kept moving changing relocating peppered in where battles, chases, clashes of magic and conflict.
The Kirin tor or someone was hounding him as for what he could only half remember an image like memory only half dreamed. A auditorium of young horde race magi laughing and elder kirin tor shouting and roaring a young orc standing hands on hips in the center with all the brash immortal bravado of youth legion grimoire in hand. Arkail watching it the spells clashing between the two factions of old and young. Arkail had orchestrated it all or had he? Fragments swirled clashed consequence came before effect time was as always was an abstract concept to Arkail even before his mind began to fail him. With his return to Red Blade tribe he felt more himself than he had in days, months, years? He did not know but he knew these last days what few he had left would be with them.