Orcs of the Red Blade


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Red Blade Records / Brewmaster Hellbrew
« on: November 16, 2017, 10:22:25 AM »

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

{To be continued}

The Campfire / Hellbrew's transcendance
« on: November 15, 2017, 07:16:50 PM »

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?


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.

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.

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