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[Boot to the Head - Duel rules]

Boot to the Head - Duel rules

So, what are ‘Boot to the head’ rules? Simply put, boot to the head is a roll based system used by two players fighting a duel, be it in friendly terms or if you’re inclined to a much more lethal conclusion.

The system is in essence the standard system used by many under the so called ‘brawl tree’ in the valley of honor. That going by the following:

1 - Both players do a /roll, the player with the highest roll gets the ‘initiative’ and attacks first.
2 - the attacking player emotes an ‘attempted’ attack, then does a /roll.
3  - The defending player then also does a /roll, if this is lower than the attacking players roll they are hit, if it’s higher they are not and can then emote how they dodge, parry or such.
4 - It then becomes the defending players turn to attack, repeat the process.
5 - This occurs and repeats until one of the two players run out hp (usually 3 or 5hp). First player to remove all of their opponents' hp, wins!

But there is more to it than that, in ‘boot to the head’ rules, you also get a once per brawl ‘bonus’. This bonus is a +50 to an attack or defensive roll (of your choice). This can either help a lot if you roll a 1, or be completely useless if you roll a 100. While it can be a wild card life saver or ender, it can also be rendered completely useless by pure chance also. So use it wisely!

As a standard, if you intend to use your Bonus, Always state so before you make an attack or defensive roll. This is best done in a party or raid chat. for example…

/emote uses his sword to make several swift cutting strikes
/p I’m going to use my bonus now for this attack
/roll
(gets a 26) (Add a +50, end up with 76)

The defending player is on 1HP, and desperate to stay in the fight, so they use their bonus too in this fashion…

/p i’m using my bonus as well
/roll
(gets a 55) (Add a +50, end up with 105)
/emote expertly defends themselves, parrying the sword strokes with his axe and blocking with his shield.

Hopefully that all makes sense!

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On top of that, there are also some other side rules… namely the following!

1 - Emotes should be no larger than one chat box. Duels by rolls and emotes take long enough as is without people writing war and peace across four chat boxes of text.

2 - Trying to force an outcome or trap the enemy player with impossible to stop or block emotes, is not allowed. The rolls decide the outcome. If at any point someone complains their emote cannot be stopped or they can block anything regardless of the rolls, I will disqualify you instantly, no exceptions.

3 - Emoting attempts to kill the other player during an honorable duel or spar using these rules, will result in instant disqualification. If you’ve planned a kill, inform the referee first… it helps.

4 - Healing and mending in tournaments: during a tournament, you may need to fight several times, and being brutally crippled in the first fight then saying you can’t go on isn’t helpful. Potions and immediate magic healing can, should and will be available. If you want to be hurt and have the results carry on after the tournament for further rp, do it after your last fight. Tournaments will not be stopped, paused or held up because “I need a few weeks to recover”. Drink the damn potion.

And that’s about the long and short of it! Hope you enjoy using this system! Any questions, poke me in game or discord!

[To all Red blade Clan members:]

To all Red blade Clan members:

Tonight, in a ritual gathering, Rhonya Steelheart declared that she had received visions in her dreams from the ancestors. these ancestors spoke of the need for wilders to be found for two of the famed Spirit-blood steel weapons of the clan.

Gul'Nathor, the Dark focus, Dagger of cunning.

and ...

Barack'Nathor, the Battle focus, Sword of strength.

With a slice of her palm, speaking the right words, Steelheart conjured two ancestral spirits that set down the challenges that Orcs must face in order to acquire them, if they feel themselves worthy. Let it be stated, that any orc may seek them, but they may only use them once they have sworn their oath of blood.

First to come to us was Githya Redblade! He spoke that the one who wishes to wield Barack'Nathor must take the ash from a fire he created to paint their face. With their skin marked they must seek and defeat a great and worthy foe of their choosing. Once this is done, they must proclaim to the ancestors their deed. If they are found worthy, they will then have visions in their dreams directing them to rivals also on this trial within the clan, they must be defeated in honorable duels. When the final duel is fought in this tournament, the winner will have a vision and be guided back to the sword and finally worthy to claim it. These duels will need a referee, and Githya decreed an oath breaker should act as such, so they see true strength in their shame.

Second to come to us when called was Dragnash the Devourer, the first Varog'gor of the clan of old. He told us that those wishing to claim Gul'Nathor must also claim ash from the fire he created. The trial they would face would one that would dwarf a challenge of the Wyvern in both scope and intrigue. The ash from the spirit fire would be used with ink... smeared upon parchment a riddle or puzzle will come to the writer in the form of written words. When they think know the answer to the clue, they must write it upon parchment with the ash blotched ink again. If the answer is true the words will flash blue, if the answer is false the words will flash red. Be warned though, only one answer may be given a day, be it right or wrong. Upon a correct answer, a new puzzle or riddle will be shown. When at last all six challenges are done... the parchment will burst into flame and the winner will be free to collect their prize. But heed a second warning! Those who partake must know who to trust, for they are free to watch, steal, borrow, trade, snitch and spy upon their rivals in the race to succeed. Your rivals are indeed your rivals.

Until the weapons new Wielders are decided, Rhonya Steelheart shall keep the weapons safe. None beyond her may see or lay hands upon them.

Hey folks, so those are the challenges IC. As of now point any questions to me on Discord, progression in both should be arranged or 'answered' (if doing Dragnash's challenge) on Discord to me in PM's. Not in public. Furthermore, don’t be restricted in travel, mobs, terrain or in game events in your pursuits of glory or results, time restrictions on your travel don’t apply, nor should you worry too much about NPC’s stopping you from finding particular ‘answers’. If you have ANY questions throw me a PM and I'll direct you as best I can.  Oh, and the ‘tournament’ for the blade of strength in /roll brawls with weapons and magic, not to the death! Managed by challonge.

As for the weapons? Their powers are not limitless, but they do still make for potent physical weapons beyond their natural shamanistic focus origins. You’re also free to use what models you see fit in using them.

[Uncle]

Uncle

”Friends tell you what you want to hear. Family tells you the truth.”

The jade forest, the thicket beyond Honeydew village

”And so you left?”

”I didn’t leaveâ€"not really, I just came here to clear my head. To think.”

Jihaan furrowed his brow. It was a troubling, and truly problematic set of problems but that was not why he frowned. He frowned because he was expected to think about the problem, to consider its angles and come up with a solution. He was by no means the Orcs uncle, ancestors no, but he called him it and so he acted like it. And like any good uncle, he listened, he considered, he guided.

”You know they were right to punish youâ€"to take away your position, yes?” He spoke, judging his tone fairly. It was firm but without rebuke. He did not look to see the expression on Okiba’s face, it would of confused his feelings. Instead he stoked the fire with a stick, and breathed in the night air deeply. The jade forest was calm, a cool breeze washing over them from between the Bamboo shoots. Summer was at its end, but the serenity of the place was not.

”I... know. Yes. But I had not expected it. I was blind even to my own mistakes.”

Jihaan raised his head to set his gaze on the Orc. He sat across from him beyond the humble campfire, his legs crossed in the fashion typical of a monk deep in thought. Only the fire was between them, and the growing dusk gloom sat in the forest all around. His expression was of remorse, his green brows creased in a heap of skin that hinted to disappointment in himself.

And there is the problem...

Jihaan ran an armoured around his bearded chin. The gruff feel of it reminded him of his age, a deceptive number made greater when you considered many of the other races of Azeroth only lived half as long as a Pandaren could or would. He needed to think, and think carefully. Giving out advice was easy, like pouring water into a cup. But good advice? That was like aiming a waterfall into the eye of a needle and not wanting your hands wet. The mistake here, wasn’t the mistake, it was a choice.

A choice you had a hand in...

”You remember, the words you told me, Fhu’s last words to you?” he spoke gently, setting his green eyes on the Orc.

”I remember... I remember” Spoke the Orc, lifting his red eyes to the fire. The memory still painful to him. Jihaan knew the Orc had survived much, far too much for one so young, all of it leaving deep scars. He detected the uncomfortable movements of a hand without control, as Okiba quickly shifted his weight to fold his arms. A nervous twitch of the left, a trauma festering in his mind.

He barely even thinks to hide it anymore...

”He said failure is our greatest teacher. You need to have a cause worth failing for.” Jihaan answered for him, nodding sagely. With a shift of his own weight the great armour that adorned him rustled with a metallic clank. He could of taken it off, but the effort and time made it a wasteful exercise in comfort.

”Well, I’ve failed. I’ve failed because I clung to an idea from before them, from before here.” The orc grunted, as was his peoples fashion before making a point, then gesturing to his surroundings, to Pandaria. It was true, the continent had brought him alive, and seen a great change in him. But some things you learn are ingrained in your soul, and army life has a way of having that effect.

”The Kor’kron bullied you, cowed you when you questioned. So now you kick back against any insult or attack on you, real, perceived or otherwise. Because you’re afraid that if you don’t act, it will bring about worse.” He answered immediately, letting the words settle in the air. The truth, or even the crux of a problem often had to be stated plainly. But more importantly it had to be left to settle in.

”Yes.. They murdered Norsk right in front of me, and I did nothing.” Okiba spoke, exhaling right after. The statement utterly defeated him, a sentence bringing him low.

Jihaan nodded slowly, sympathetically, understanding. He had lost too many friends, brothers, to war and conflict. Now he feared it so much the worry of it made him panic, lash out. This had to be curtailed, from within and without.

He has two choices to make...

”My Orc friend. You have two decisions to make, each with two choices... cling to this warped, poisonous untruth that threats must be answered with threats. Or choose the ideals of your family. For that is what they are now, no, family? That is the first decision to dwell on.”

”And the second, what is the second?” The Orc razed his gaze, clutching his wayward left hand with his left as he fixed his ‘Uncle’ eye to eye. Almost pleading for his words.

”The second... you must decide if it was worth failing, so you may succeed next time.”

”And if I already know exactly what I must choose?” The Orc asked, sitting up as he raised a brow inquisitively.

”Then you need to ask why you are wasting time camping in the Bamboo woods with me. Ha!”

Okiba smirked at that, his green lips flashing a smile. A stark contrast to his previously dour mood. His hand had even stopped shaking. But one more thing needed to be questioned.

”--Why did you become a soldier again?”

Okiba froze, blinkin with confusion. He squinted, moved his mouth as if to speak and then said nothing. Stunned. The question was to the point, and worthy of the truth. The Orc had been a soldier, found it not to his liking and become a Monk. Only to revert the choice without knowing it. His clan had made him a soldier, when he should have stayed himself.

”Hm. You may want to consider that, my friend. You too easily slipped back into a way of life and thinking that you once knew, out of habit. When you could have stayed the course, the celestials teach-… or perhaps in your own words, as Lo’gosh showed, and been content. Soldiers rise and fall with the times, Monks simply seek a balance in all things.”

Okiba turned the corner of his mouth. Not in revulsion, or anger. But the softest of understanding smiles. He’d gotten through to him. Shown him how he had strayed from his own path. He’d threaded a waterfall through the eye of a needle. Advice was tricky, but any good Uncle gives it freely, albeit carefully.

[Competition Time!]

Competition Time!

Clan War banner, artist and writers competition!

Q1 - What is this?

A1 - This is a competition... for artists and writers to try their hand at a dab of duality in their efforts. The aim is to draw, photo-edit, paint or create by any visual medium you can think of... an artistic representation of the Red Blade Clans iconic war banner. Furthermore, you'll also need to write about it!

Q - Hang on a minute, draw and write?

A - Yup! Each effort will be rated out of ten overall. 5 points out of a potential five for the art, and five points out of five for a write-up explaining the piece, its potential history, it's significant points and so forth, possibly even from an IC standpoint!

Q2 - What is the Clan War Banner?

A2 - It's the iconic banner our clan, carried by our champion (winner of the tournament of the blades) into battle, the sum of 15 years of guild warfare, dozens of campaigns, epic moments and battlefield beat-downs. It has yet to receive a proper name... (maybe you could come up with one?). What matters is, when the banner is raised, some Alliance or any other dastardly fiend are getting their butts kicked. The clans war banner can only be unfurled at the command of the Chieftain, and is carried by the clan champion as it's a symbol of their and the clans honor, even becoming a focal point for challenges on the clans honour personally and in war.

Q3 - So what exactly are you after?

A3 - Two things!

1) A drawing, painting or photo-edited image made any visual medium you see fit. The Banner should display the clans emblem, and any suitable trophy's of war you view apt, likely best from the guilds long history (little research project for you!).

2) A write up, it doesn't have to be a novel (or it could?), about why you shaped your image as such, with as much IC information, back-story and even a suitable name, as you can muster.

Q4 - How will this be judged and what are the rules?

A4 - Hopefully a suitable neutral judge will be picked in due course to render marks for the competitors efforts, your art will be marked out of 5, and write up out of 5 also. These marks won't be rendered public because every contribution deserves not to be looked down on, and frankly any effort is a good effort. The rules will be as follows...

1 - All art must be your own, no tracing, borrowing or having anyone else create it on your behalf.
2 - You can work together as a team up to a maximum of three persons per submission.
3 - The final submission must be posted on this forum thread by July 15th.
4 - Submissions can be made or posted immediately, but you can only make one submission per person or team, and these will be "locked in" on July 15th.
5 - Bribing the chieftain with waffles, chocolate and cat cuddles will result in a violent-- *Garrote*. 

Q5 - What's in it for us?

A5 - Aside from the fame and glory of making such a contribution to clan lore? 50,000 gold is to be won, for yourself or your team! 

So... enjoy and... Best of luck!

[Clan Heirlooms and Relics]

Clan Heirlooms and Relics

Spoiler: "Sceptre of the shaman king" • show

Mruthgor the Shaman King's Sceptre looks more like a mace, a somewhat ugly simple metal thing with spikes. Unwieldy and not looking to be the very powerful weapon it is supposed to be.


After becoming Chieftain, Mruthgor had coerced the Thur-Ruk Oracles into an unprecedented ritual to forge a powerful artefact and weapon. Decades of spirit-walking had dealt a cost to the Shaman-King, as his spiritual powers began to fade. To reverse this, the Oracles pledged their power to him, each sacrificing some of their spirit within the Scepter of the Shaman-King, which became an extraordinary spiritual conduit.

Upon Mruthgor's death, the Scepter would be handed down from Chieftain to Chieftain, though none had the power to wield it. It would be lost following the upheaval of Akesh the Poisoner's treachery, only emerging decades later in the hands of the Twilight's Hammer cult, who sought to adapt its power to enslave untold numbers of elementals to their cause.

Mruthgor's spirit reached out and connected to several Red Blade orcs, convincing them to scour all of southern Kalimdor in a bid to track down the Scepter. After the Shaman-King's spirit personally escorted them to the gates of Ahn'Qiraj, the tribe descended into the ancient city to retrieve the Scepter and ensure it did not fall into the hands of evil again.




----

Sadok had the Sceptre in his and Rhonya's hut when the legion invaded. Somehow, trying to protect the children when the demons came falling from the sky, he activated it by picking it up. While Sukeenah, Rhonya's troll friend who aids in the hut with the kids, was battling demons outside to try keep them out, Sadok grabbed the sceptre. An infernal fell on the hut with him and the children inside, but somehow the sceptre defended them. A bubble was all that was left of the hut, Sadok holding up the sceptre in the middle of it. It was a shield. He urged Sukeenah to take the children and flee. She refused at first, but realised Sadok couldn't move and his power was being drained by the Sceptre. She knew she couldn't let the children see this, so she took them all and left Sadok to his fate.
Sadok died, hours later, in Rhonya's arms. When the Sceptre had pulled all the energy from him, he had collapsed, the remains on the hut falling on him.
Rhonya kept the Sceptre in her possession for a year.
However, the spirit of Sadok reached back out to her, through great effort. He told her he was stuck. Stuck in the Sceptre, not the Eternal Plains that everyone thought he had gone to. Apparently the Sceptre had been corrupted for a very, very long time already.

Rhonya contacted Mruthgor himself. After some coercing, he agreed to help her cleanse the Sceptre.

"HOW DO YOU CONSECRATE A CORRUPTED OBJECT? ARE YOU NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A SAGE OF YOUR CLAN, COUNCIL IN MATTERS OF THE SPIRITS? TRULY, HOW STANDARDS HAVE FALLEN IN THE MANY YEARS SINCE MRUTHGOR THE MIGHTY SHAMAN-KING TRANSCENDED MORTALITY.
YOU MUST ANOINT A VESSEL OF CLEANSING WATERS BLESSED BY THE ELEMENTAL SPIRIT-GODS OF THE ABYSSAL MAW. YOU MUST PREPARE A WHITE FLAME OF PURITY BY SEEKING THE APPROVAL OF THE ELEMENTAL SPIRIT-GODS OF THE FIRELANDS. YOU MUST CRAFT A STICK OF INCENSE AMONG THE FOUR WINDS ATOP A MOUNTAIN-PEAK, BLESSED BY THE SPIRIT-GODS OF THE SKYWALL. YOU MUST GATHER SOIL FROM THE TWO ENDS OF THE EARTH, HALLOWED BY THE BLESSING OF THE SPIRIT-GODS OF THE DEEPHOLM.

BATHE THE SCEPTER IN THE WATERS OF THE VESSEL AND PRONOUNCE THE WORDS 'AQUA, EGO EXCITO ELE.' PASS THE SCEPTER OVER THE WHITE FLAME. 'IGNEM, EGO EXCITO ELE." PASS IT OVER THE RISING SMOKE OF THE INCENSE STICK. “VENTUS, EGO EXCITO ELE.” AND BURY IT WITHIN THE SOIL OF PURITY. “TERRA, EGO EXCITO ELE.”
FINALLY, TAKE THE SCEPTER IN BOTH HANDS AND RECITE THE FOLLOWING WORDS SEVEN TIMES: "I CONSECRATE THIS WEAPON BY THE POWERS OF THE FOUR ELEMENTS AND THE SPIRITS THAT BIND THEM. MAY THE SPIRIT-GODS WITNESS THIS HALLOWING OF ITS MATTER -- IN MY HANDS SHALL IT SERVE TO WEAVE THE POWERS OF THE SPIRITS. AS I WILL IT SO IT SHALL BE."
YES, THE SCEPTER’S POWER WILL BE MADE ANEW AND YOU MIGHT RELEASE THE SOUL WITHIN, TO ITS FINAL REST IN THE ETERNAL PLAINS."

Rhonya bargained with him to have him help her get the items, and in exchange for an evening of celebration in honor and name of Mruthgor, he agreed to give her the items to perform the cleansing. This, she did together with Azolg, freeing all the spirits that had been held in the Sceptre for many, many years. One of the spirits claimed to be Drag'nash The Devourer, the very first Varog'gor, who spoke with Rhonya for a short moment. If he spoke true, no one knows.

Keeper: The finally cleansed Scepter is currently in possession of Kogra Windwatcher.

Spoiler: "War banner of the clan" • show

Traditionally carried into battle by the clans champion, the winner of the tournament of the blades, this collection of war trophy’s decorates the dark red and black colours marking the tri-star symbol of the clan. Typically, this grand emblem and focal point for the Nag’ogar and Rroshtul is only unfurled and raised when specifically commanded by the chieftain. When the banner is raised, it means the clan is at war, and won’t rest until its foes are utterly defeated.

Keeper: Varog’gor Razaraon Madeye, Champion of Clan Red Blade.

Spoiler: "Rrosh’Nathor, The dagger of oaths" • show

   
Forged from spirit-blood steel, an ancient alloy coveted by the burning blade clan of old, this dagger was forged by Krogon Devilstep as one of several gift weapons created for the clan elders and promising aspirants. Rrosh-Nathor is intended as a symbol of authority for clan chieftains, literally binding the oaths made by Red blades to each other and their chosen Alpha. The supposed powers of the dagger are eluded to include being the central anchor point by which the spirit link is formed, as well as granting control over the clans large cohort of worgs, dire-wolves and Half-garn. Only one thing is for certain though, only the true Alpha and Chieftain is fit to carry it. The most important feature of the dagger is the Kalimag rune for ‘Oath’ etched into the blade.

Keeper: Chieftain Kozgugore Feraleye, Wolfking of the Red Blade.

Spoiler: "Torosh’Nathor, the Horn of Wisdom" • show

Forged from spirit-blood steel, an ancient alloy coveted by the burning blade clan of old, the two metallic bands holding this great Talbuk together were created by Krogon Devilstep as one of several gift weapons created for the clan elders and promising aspirants. The horn has an unusual set of powers, which are not fully known. What is known, is that the note played by it when blown depends on the situation, either bolstering courage of warriors or lamenting the spirit of the deceased and easing their passing. The Horn of wisdom is etched with the Kalimag rune for ‘wisdom’ on its upper alloy band.

Keeper: Thur’ruk Kogra Windwatcher.

Spoiler: "Gul’Nathor, the blade of Cunning" • show

Forged from spirit-blood steel, an ancient alloy coveted by the burning blade clan of old, this dagger was forged by Krogon Devilstep as one of several gift weapons created for the clan elders and promising aspirants. While deadly sharp, the blade of cunning is something of an unknown among the other spirit-blood steel devices. Its powers are completely unexplored, its first keeper Therak Duskstalker having never used it, it was promptly returned to the Chieftain for safe keeping.

Keeper: Gul'thauk Tagrok Valorwind.

Spoiler: "Barak’Nathor, sword of Strength" • show

Forged from spirit-blood steel, an ancient alloy coveted by the burning blade clan of old, this sword was forged by Krogon Devilstep as one of several gift weapons created for the clan elders and promising aspirants. While the sword is indeed well made and deadly sharp, its intended purpose is that of bolstering the wielders commanding potential, giving them an aura of authority, and blessings of leadership. Famously the sword is rarely drawn from its Gronn bone scabbard, and more often than not is only physically used as an emblem or a symbol for who may speak at moots or war councils. Its first and only keeper so far was Rrosh’tul Gridish Rimeweaver, a mage, but has since been returned to the Chieftain.

Keeper: Nag'ogar Karnna Blackfeather.

Spoiler: "Irok’Nathor, blade of Family" • show

Forged from spirit-blood steel, an ancient alloy coveted by the burning blade clan of old, this dagger was forged by Krogon Devilstep as one of several gift weapons created for the clan elders and promising aspirants. This blade is primarily meant for rituals, rites and magics that centre around family or the pack. Be it in births, deaths or family bonds, the blade of family has an important social place in clan matters. The blade has the Kalimag rune for “Family”, which is also the same word for “Pack” etched into the alloy.

Keeper: Gosh’kar Rhonya Steelheart.

Spoiler: "Totem of Vrull " • show

The son of strife famously despises those who speak much and do little, so his totem and the rites it involves reflect this appropriately. The totem of Vrull is carved from blackened, burnt wood shaped to look like a mighty black wolf howling skyward. The totem is carved with many ‘exposed’ slots that allow for the insertion of weapons taken from defeated foes. Once placed in the totem, it is burned, though miraculously never harmed. While on fire, the totem appears to belch fire from the mouth while the eyes burn ferociously. While the totem is unharmed, the weapons given in offering however are burnt to ash, of which is used to mark the follower of Vrull with the wolf spirits emblem. This is an important and sacred item to the path of strength.

Keeper: The Rrosh’tul and path of strength.

Spoiler: "Totem of Magor" • show

The Totem of Magor is a lightly carved tree-stump, that looks to of almost naturally taken the shape of the wandering wolf spirit. Uon its shoulder is carved the shape of the spirits famed companion, a windroc named Aottok. Traditionally to earn Magor's blessing, offerings that hold personal significance and tell a very personal story or experience are given or placed upon the totem. If the offerings are accepted, a local bird will fly over, land on the totem and inspect the offerings before singing or calling its ascent and appreciation.

Keeper: The Thur'ruk and the path of Wisdom.

Spoiler: "Horn of Courage" • show

When the Senate army of Ironforge, known as the army of the three hammers, sacked the settlement of Taurajo and massacred its populace, the then Tribe Red Blade launched a campaign to bring the attackers to justice. The conflict culminated in the epic battle of Dun Algaz, known to many in the clan as "The Long Climb". The battle was both brutal and decisive, Tribe Red blade decimated the dwarven force, even forcing Senator Irondawn to flee the field and killing the enemy General. When the opposing General was felled, his mighty mountain ram mount was cut down, and its huge gold, curling, gold capped horns taken as grand trophy's of the epic battle. The Horn of courage is the left horn, decorated with dwaren gold, but etched with Orcish runes, the Horn is typically gifted to Nag'ogar of great note and worth. It last keeper was Gnash Stronghand, whom famously slayed an Ettin singne-handed in his death throws to save another clan member, blowing the horn all the while.

Keeper: Rrosh'tul Nosh'marak Ironclaw.

Spoiler: "Horn of Command" • show

When the Senate army of Ironforge, known as the army of the three hammers, sacked the settlement of Taurajo and massacred its populace, the then Tribe Red Blade launched a campaign to bring the attackers to justice. The conflict culminated in the epic battle of Dun Algaz, known to many in the clan as "The Long Climb". The battle was both brutal and decisive, Tribe Red blade decimated the dwarven force, even forcing Senator Irondawn to flee the field and killing the enemy General. When the opposing General was felled, his mighty mountain ram mount was cut down, and its huge gold, curling, gold capped horns taken as grand trophy's of the epic battle. The Horn of command is the right horn, decorated with dwaren gold, but etched withOrcish runes, the Horn is typically gifted to Nag'ogar of great note and worth. It last keeper was Rargnasha Bloodmark, whom famously led the tibe on many successful campaigns, using it as a means to signal and as a rallying call to great effect, in particular when leading the charge through the dark portal against the Iron Horde.

Keeper: Rrosh'tul Nosh'marak Ironclaw.

Spoiler: "Razarons Cursed Axe" • show

Razaron's former axe origin is unknown, it was handed down to him from his father Gorgush as a family heirloom. Little did Razaron know that it was cursed, the wielder of the axe would have to pay the penalty for using it. When blood was spilt, the axe would drain a part of the users life essence as payment. During the years after Orgrimmar was built, Razaron and Peacemoon managed to freeze but not reverse the effects of the axe. Part of Madeye's life was stored within it, that was in till Xuja the Bloodgiver ambushed Razaron at Razor Hill and reactivated. The orcs of the Red Blade came to the Varog'gor's aid and entered the axe's nightmare world, former wielders of the axe and even it's victims were twisted and distorted in this new domain. Eventually the shade of Xuja was defeated with the help of a echo of Razaron's grandmother, the Matron Razara. Madeye's life was restored as the axe lays dormant.

Keeper: it's now kept under lock and key with the other Red Blade artifacts.

Spoiler: "Regorns Redemption" • show

Old record from old thread:
"Regorn Thunderheart.

The staff of the redeemer remains a reminder to our tribe of times when our race as a whole revered the spirits in a time long gone. those the old days may have passed, Regorn honoured the old ways all the same, standing up for them against other view points and darker perceptions. His staff remains with us, a tool of healing for our High Blade Thur'ruk. May Regorn smile on us with pride as he see's the woudned tended well by that which he left behind. He knew his time well, and went to it as the Ancestors and spirits bid it, we shall miss you brother."

Regorn was full on the old ways and Spirits, the Staff came to him as a gift from a Earth Elemental, who promised him that he would find redeemption when he would give up the staff.
It's a staff he used for a great deal of healing as he took up the role of a healer after the event. Useful for such things. Very close connection to Elemental Earth as well.
Regorns hatred of fel seems full well in the staff, as he used it at some point to burn away some Fel corruption.

Whereabouts: Unknown.

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I've been planning to make a full list of the clans most sacred, revered, cursed, haunted, blessed and ancient artifacts, relics, weapons and totems for a while now. This post will be edited at a later date to be much more organised and give a full and comprehensive list.

So.. if you have any knowledge of any, or want/think something is worthy of being put here...

1) Provide its name, origin and current caretaker within the clan (or just communal location if usable by all)
2) a little history about the item, how and why it is used.
3) ensure its something that can be handed on, and isn't just your own personal object.
4) provide an image if you like, either from model viewer, sketch or painted.

let the Orcish antiques roadshow commence!

["For the Blood of Redblade!"]

A song in memory of all clans Orcs who fought and died with honor and glory. be it at their pyre, or occasions of memorials! The idea is that different Orcs sing the various verses, say one orc sings the first four, then another the second four, and a third Orc sings the last four and so on. At the end of each group of verses, the whole clan would yell as one the bold marked line:

"For the Blood of Redblade!".

Overall, it's meant to be a song everyone can interact with and take part in. Enjoy!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gol’korosh, on our oaths we declare,
Raising voices to the air, as they go to Lohn’goron!
Fierce were their foes, that they slew in death throws,
Our honoured blood, for your glory we call!

Listen now, sons of Kraag, your ears we do hark!
For the tales, so boldly told, of battle and glory,
By kin both wolf, and blood of Orc!
With strength, they all fought, for our honour!

Mighty spirits, guided spears, keeping danger at bay,
By blood and thunder the enemy did they route!
Death called, glory had, their lives gone now,
Guide them Ancestors, to you we pray!

And the chant, the pack calls, on this glorious field,
Rrosh! For the oaths they made!
Rrosh! For the blood they gave!
Our clan howls the great call!

For the Blood of Redblade!

Gol’korosh, on our oaths we declare,
Raising voices to the air, as they go to Lohn’goron!
Fierce were their foes, that they slew in death throws,
Our honoured blood, for your glory we call!

With a great howl, the pack did rise,
Iron guard, Spirit speaker, Wolf claws all!
Fought for our cause, bloodying their maws,
Hear our words, for we honour them all!

Vrull gave ferocity, Kavara graced speed,
Mo'lak gifted cunning, and by Akala wounds sealed!
Living Akashok’s code, they followed loyaly,
Our mighty brothers and sisters, never to yield!

And the chant, the pack calls, on this glorious field,
Rrosh! For the oaths they made!
Rrosh! For the blood they gave!
Our clan howls the great call!

For the Blood of Redblade!

Gol’korosh, on our oaths we declare,
Raising voices to the air, as they go to Lohn’goron!
Fierce were their foes, that they slew in death throws,
Our honoured blood, for your glory we call!

And the Seers have foretold, of hard nights ahead,
That when brothers, united, a victory shall unfold!
Kraag, first Wolf-King, ancient Magoth you bound,
Your hunger for glory they had in their eyes!

But a day, shall come at last, when at your feet the foe lies,
You will be remembered forever and then!
Great Brothers, and Sisters, our clan stands free!
With Honor, and glory, we thank thee!

And the chant, the pack calls, on this glorious field,
Rrosh! For the oaths they made!
Rrosh! For the blood they gave!
Our clan howls the great call!

For the Blood of Redblade!

And for those who want to sing it in-game, here is the same song for copy-pasting direct in to /say

Spoiler: show

[Singing] Gol’korosh, on our oaths we declare, Raising voices to the air, as they go to Lohn’goron! Fierce were their foes, that they slew in death throws, Our honoured blood, for your glory we call!

[Singing] Listen now, sons of Kraag, your ears we do hark! For the tales, so boldly told, of battle and glory, By kin both wolf, and blood of Orc! With strength, they all fought, for our honour!

[Singing] Mighty spirits, guided spears, keeping danger at bay, By blood and thunder the enemy did they route! Death called, glory had, their lives gone now, Guide them Ancestors, to you we pray!

[Singing] And the chant, the pack calls, on this glorious field, Rrosh! For the oaths they made! Rrosh! For the blood they gave! Our clan howls the great call!

For the Blood of Redblade

[Singing] Gol’korosh, on our oaths we declare, Raising voices to the air, as they go to Lohn’goron! Fierce were their foes, that they slew in death throws, Our honoured blood, for your glory we call!

[Singing] With a great howl, the pack did rise, Iron guard, Spirit speaker, Wolf claws all! Fought for our cause, bloodying their maws,
Hear our words, for we honour them all!

[Singing] Vrull gave ferocity, Kavara graced speed, Mo'lak gifted cunning, and by Akala wounds sealed! Living Akashok’s code, they followed loyaly, Our mighty brothers and sisters, never to yield!

[Singing] And the chant, the pack calls, on this glorious field, Rrosh! For the oaths they made! Rrosh! For the blood they gave! Our clan howls the great call!

For the Blood of Redblade!

[Singing] Gol’korosh, on our oaths we declare, Raising voices to the air, as they go to Lohn’goron! Fierce were their foes, that they slew in death throws, Our honoured blood, for your glory we call!

[Singing] And the Seers have foretold, of hard nights ahead, That when brothers, united, a victory shall unfold! Kraag, first Wolf-King, ancient Magoth you bound, Your hunger for glory they had in their eyes!

[Singing] But a day, shall come at last, when at your feet the foe lies, You will be remembered forever and then! Great Brothers, and Sisters, our clan stands free! With Honor, and glory, we thank thee!

[Singing] And the chant, the pack calls, on this glorious field, Rrosh! For the oaths they made! Rrosh! For the blood they gave! Our clan howls the great call!

For the Blood of Redblade!

[Battle for Azeroth - Screenshot competition!]

Battle for Azeroth - Screenshot competition!

It's that time of year again folks for another clan competition! Interested in winning some super bits of shiney? say... 100,000 gold for 1st place? 50,000 for second and 20,000 for third?

Well this is the competition for you!

Requirements:

You must...

A) provide a single screenshot for entry, un-edited in any form and it must contain your character (a member of Orc of the Red blade).
B) ensure the screenshot captures the theme of "Battle for Azeroth- your orc at war!"
C) Load the screenshot into this thread
D) you may work as a team, up to a maximum of three people, but each of you can only collectively submit one screenshot as that team.
E) Not edit it - did I mention this? Well i'm mentioning it again. BUT, you may 'crop', if you need your UI for something flashy.
F) Submit your screenshot by March 10th! the final winners will be chosen on March 12th!

1st place - 100,000 gold
2nd place - 50,000 gold
3rd place - 20,000 gold

Happy screenshot chasing you Orcs!

[Name - class - spec - preferred night]

Hello all! it's your local friendly(ish) neighborhood Okiba here. I'm putting this little post up here, as come January 22nd the next 'season', effectively, of mythic keystone dungeons will commence. And I want a group!

Now, to clarify, that date is fairly important as a lot of raids stuff opens that day too, and many dungeons and their relative difficulties will give improved rewards, but i wat keystones! And I'd like to invite you folks to take part with me. I'm not forming a strict 5 man group, but i'll be more than happy to organize and participate in all kinds with all sorts of folks, to that in the end if you would like to take part in a 'weekly' keystone dungeon night with me, come the time, please do the following! - namely, sign up in this thread like so:

Name - class - spec - preferred night

It's as simple as that, I'll be healing by the way and up for the dungeons any other night, but this is primarily a focus on getting others involved and enjoying the content/gear gain, maybe we'll even get two or more teams rolling. Hope to see you all in game!
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Okiba - Monk - Mistweaver (healing) - Wednesday

[Soldier: Chapter 1 â€" Whelp]

Soldier: Chapter 1 â€" Whelp

”Where is best to start? Well, the beginning, I imagine”.

Eleven years ago...

He stank. Well, his breath stank. The mangy smell that comes with too much rotten meat with ale was too hard to ignore when he was close enough his breath could be felt upon forehead. But how could he think worse? His own scent was that of a tannery, the sickly smell ammonia and hide working chemicals. And no doubt the Sergeant had noticed, judging by how his nostrils flared with distain.

“You’re a runt! Barely out of your mother’s arms! No muscle, no sense... No use. You’d be killed by the razor winds and sun within a week, let alone a Quilboar.” Scoffed sergeant Broldok. His dark red eyes looking up and down, surveying the youngling before him with annoyance, even insult at being asked of something.

Are you ready for this? Maybe another winter, or two…

Okiba winced, trying not to recoil under the face to face scrutiny of an Orc that any other his own age would always consider his much senior. Broldok was a head and a half taller, muscled so that he was built for battle, with great tusks, jet black beard and a shaved head. He cut an imposing figure, at least, to the skinny sack of beardless nothing that summed up the former tanners apprentice. Okiba was a child, seventeen winters, being stared down by a veteran of three wars and forty years. He gritted his teeth, it was the only thing stopping him from shaking in his ruined boots.

”Well, why you still gorping at me like the clueless whelp!?” Barked Broldok, his brow furrowed in intent displeasure. This was not how he wanted his first visit to Razor hill to start, being chewed out by the settlements senior sentry. Though he now stood in the shadow of its imposing watch tower atop the hill, bare for the sun and winds to do mayhem upon, he was more regretting his choice of conversation opener rather than his lack protection from the elements.

”where do I sign up?” what were you thinking…

”I-i… I’ll buy you a drink? If you help me join the grunts…” Stuttered Okiba, outstretching a hand holding the few coppers he had to his name. The reaction was instant.

”You lowly, disrespectful-… Foolish whelp!” Roared Broldok, snapping his hand out to grab the younger Orc by the scruff of his neck and lift him like a caught rodent. The veteran clearly thought nothing of the weight that made up Okiba, hauling him around with the scraping of boots and panicked pleas of mercy.

”Please! I’m sorry! I meant no offence! I just want to do my part!” he wailed pleadingly, lifting his arms to shield his face and neck instinctively.

Oh fel, what have you done-…

”Shut up! Cease your whimpering and listen close, or so help me by Groms blood I’ll cuff you until you scream for your mother!” Snarled the sergeant as he threw the presumptive Youngling to the dusty ground. He slowly raised the same arm to begin pointing down to the settlements below. Razor hill was sleepy, the sun just setting behind the craggy hills and casting a dark shadow over tent, hovel and tavern alike as every Orc and troll settled down for the day. Okiba wiped the dust and muck from his face and rags, following the gesture with his eyes.

”This is my responsibility… My charge, my watch. Our great Warchief, Thrall!” He paused, glancing from the town, down to his cowed victim and back again before resuming. ”Gave my Commander orders to take care of this, and he in turn gave me orders to keep the watch! They have trust and respect, going down the chain of command… respect and trust born of honor, blood and sweat in battle! Not from a cheap pint of ale as a bribe…” Finished the sergeant with a sneering growl.

Stupid… stupid! All you wanted was a chance…

”I- I just wanted the chance to show honour, earn my place in the Hordeâ€"“ He started, but could not finish, a hand swiftly smacking the back of his head. Hard enough to put him to silence, but not enough to cause real hurt.

”I said Silence!” Snarled the Sergeant with indignation, his lips turning upwards in revulsion, exposing his already formidable tusks. ”This is my responsibility… And I will not have all this undermined by a weakling… Honor is made, like steel. Not bought”.

Made?

Okiba held his tongue, keeping his eyes on the town as the sunset gave way to the darkening tones of dusk. The iron gaze of his elder and better boring into the side of his head, allowing for silence to prevail, what else could he do?

”Report to the quartermaster in the barracks at sunrise. And don’t ever speak to me unless spoken to first, ever again, Whelp.”

[Summer Story Competition!]

Summer Story Competition!

It's time for a summer writers bonanza!

You, the Orcs of Clan Red blade have From June 1st to June 30th to write a story! Win prizes and exalt in wonderful praise (and the challenge of writing).

The Aim is simple, Write a story about Clan Red blade. Be it the clan of old on Draenor, the Tribe during the days of Akesha and the Modern clan under Feraleye... or being Daring! and write about a possible future. That's it, all you need to do is have said story submitted on this forum and Linked into this thread by June 30th to take part.

The winner will receive a wonderful sum of 30,000 gold coins!

Second place will win 15,000 gold coins!

And third? Heck, 5000 gold coins!

The Rules are simple, and as follows:

1) No writing about your own Orc or character under any circumstances.
2) You can only write from the perspective of other players characters with their express permission, signaled in this thread.
3) No Team-ups. Everything you write is yours, and yours alone.
4) Try not to plagiarize, especially other players story's.
5) It Must be about the Clan/Tribe and it's Orc(s).
6) Attempts to bribe and/or woo the judges will result in immediate disqualification.
7) One, and only one submission each. Once a submission has been linked in this forum, it will be copy pasted into a word document for later viewing. So DO NOT submit something off the cuff or if you are unhappy with it, you won't be allowed to change it or submit another.

And that is it! Good luck and we all look forward to reading the fruits of your efforts!

(And questions, please submit them in this thread, thank you!)

The following leather bound journal contains the beginnings and scribbling of a Monks thoughts. Written in fine, almost Pandaren character like lettering, it can likely be found sitting next to the copy of the Clan Annals Okiba maintains.

Thursday, 3rd day of the fifth Month.

I hate ships. I've hated them since I was a grunt. That first journey to the blasted lands and then Hellfire, then to Northrend and Tol'barad. I hate ships.

Hate is a foolish emotion though. Rather, I feel uneasy with them. So much so I keep depositing my breakfast over the side of this hulk.

We sailed from Domination point four days ago, on a hulk in a small convoy. I'm sat in a hold full of carrots, rice and turnips. It's been a struggle to keep my sausage laden kodo from eating half of it. Our destination? Bladefist bay and home.

I do not know why I decided to start writing this Journal. Perhaps what Uncle Jihaan said at Tian Monastery stuck with me and inwardly I am finding ways to move forward.

"Don't be an Orc Monk. Or a Monk Orc" he said...

"Be Okiba first, and the rest second" finished the Wise old bear.

It's something to keep in mind.

four more days of sloshing around on the sea, and we arrive. home, and to the clan. If they are indeed on Kalimdor. Since reading the copy of the clan Annals (it's history) I have learnt a great deal of them, their past, habbits and future. They are nomads, we are nomads. I am a nomad. Hopefully I catch up with them soon.

Summer is coming, and all great occasions and events love summer.

[Bamboo]

Bamboo

”Listen, but not with your ears. See, but not with your eyes. Know, not in your mind, but in your spirit. This is the way of the monk.” â€" Fhu Redstaff

The winds caress could not reach him here. No longer did that gentle touch of air soothe the skin, instead it harassed the leafy tops of the vast, impenetrable bamboo forest with utter impotence. No, down here he would have to be neglected and warm, stifled by humidity among the creaking greenery. He had long left behind the safety of open sky the roads hours ago, to stalk through this maze of jade and vermillion thicket, avoiding the rare beams and in streams of light that pierced the canopy. No, here he needed to move carefully and with purpose, preferably unseen.


Gripping his heavy polearm tight in his right hand, he was forced to duck, pivot and turn constantly so as to avoid clipping or rustling the bamboo with either blade or shaft as he navigated onward. One slow, carefully placed foot at a time. Unseen was one thing, unheard upon a forest floor covered in dry fallen foliage? It was near impossible. Each foot wrapped in cloth up to the knee had to roll the dice every time it descend back to the ground, what may have looked like a safe spot could easily have a hidden twig or dry leaf bound to make that one awkward noise. Even drawing a breath felt like a measured exercise, having to repress the urge for desperate gasps of air.


Okiba paused, and rolled his left shoulder. It had healed, or was healing, depending on your view of old wounds. The twin scars, still fresh from the work of a skilled surgeons blade, had recently had stitches removed. One sat over his collar bone and the other by his left shoulder blade, both horizontal and Orcs finger in length. It ached, a little, somewhere deep within the fleshy muscle between collar bone and back, but it had healed and was well on its way to being fully recovered.


Thank the spirits for that…


The Orc monk mused, uncorking his water skin to sate his light thirst and wet his sweaty brow. The heat within the Bamboo woods of the jade forest could be stifling, even so early in spring. But it was what he wanted. The rocky, inclined terrain, the challenge of moving unseen, It required effort to move through. An ideal activity, it demanded he be mindful and consider every movement of his hands as he hauled his weighted weapon, and to be careful of each step lest it alert his prey.


One foot, one breath, one thought at a time. Technique over haste.


He considered. Caution would be his ally. Or a lack of mindfulness within his surroundings? Very possibly his death. He was hunting a Tiger; an impressive specimen the local brewers had spotted some days before. It hadn’t taken long for news to reach the temple of the jade serpent, inspiring any would be skilled hunters to seek it out. Fortunately no hunters were available, and Okiba was never one to miss a chance at repaying the kindness of his hosts, especially if it meant exercise.


Hunting is a form of rehabilitation, no?


He smirked to himself, lapping the last drops of water from the edge of his mouth. His eyes slowly scanned the area. He knew the way back to the road; it was south and behind him, while he faced north. All clues to the tiger and its den led north. Thus that remained his path, despite the thicket becoming increasingly intent on slowing his pace.


And thus I must press on, keep momentum, but not over exert or lose awareness.


Re-attaching the water skin to his belt, he rolled his right shoulder then tightened his grip on his weapon before pressing on. He must have stalked two miles, maybe three now? He was by no means a wilds Orc, or hunter, but it didn’t take a master to acknowledge he needed to improve his stamina. The tell tale signs of too much bed rest after his surgery manifested in great beads of sweat running down his bare back.


Damnable heat.


He furrowed his brow, trying to push through the self annoyance that he hadn’t brought more water or failed to find a better way into the forest. He’d much rather of been back with the clan, by the campfire eating freshly butchered boar or Zhevra. It had been near four months now though since he had to depart to see to his wound, would they even remember him? He remembered them…


He froze. His foot had landed in something soft, and warm. He cursed, aloud. The only thing in the forest you stood in that could be described like that was what came out the wrong end of an animal. Lifting his foot to gaze on the mess at the bottom of his cloth-wrapped sandal, he found no surprise that he had indeed stood in a giant lump of still steaming excrement.


”For the love ofâ€"“ He began to exclaim before his body froze. Intuition and sensory awareness took control as the need to bemoan his lot in life fell away. He didn’t know much about tracking, but he knew that when animal mess had ‘fur’ in it, he knew it had come from a predator. Narrowing his eyes, this ‘specimen’ was packed full of stag fur… it was close. Hee should have been more alert, mindful and with his eyes on his task instead of day dreaming about the clan. Because no sooner had he realized the proximity of his target, did he hear a solitary twig snap under paw behind him.


”Fuâ€"“

[The following letter is addressed to Noshmarak Ironclaw by name for purpose of the address, but inside it is obvious it is intended for the whole clan......written on clean, crisp parchment and sealed with wax within a thick envelope the letter states...]

The following letter is addressed to Noshmarak Ironclaw by name for purpose of the address, but inside it is obvious it is intended for the whole clan...

...written on clean, crisp parchment and sealed with wax within a thick envelope the letter states...

My clan!

I hope this letter finds you all soon and in good health. Since the colossal shadow was cast across the sky and that blade struck our world beyond the horizon I have been struck with horror at what may have happened to you all. Hopefully you was nowhere near where the blow was struck... we felt tremors here in Pandaria but nothing more.

Though I will not dwell on that topic. The world has not ended and I hear events, even as far away as this, have occured that mean the ultimate defeat of the legion! Good tidings indeed, so much so that all the villages here have been celebrating with ale and fireworks for days, and from my sick bed I was loathe to listen to the revelry every night but unable to join in.

On that matter... I took the regular portal directly from Orgrimmar to Honeybrew village in the jade forest, but no sooner had I gained passage on a wagon to the jade temple, did I fall quite ill. Struck with fever and unable to use my arm, I was lucky that the wagon driver had care enough to see that the Healers of the temple, upon arrival, saw me immediately...

turns out, when that fleshy boar golem struck me, my landing caused a fragment of bone on my upper arm to shoot loose and tangle among a heap of nerves and blood vessels. Thankfully, the healers here are masters, using all kinds of techniques to place me in a painless sleep while they first cut at the back of my shoulder with precision to remove the fragment, then cut from the front to fix the mess it had caused.

All in all, I awoke extremely sore but feeling instantly better. Truelly, the masters in this temple are some of the greatest menders, who don't use magic, to be found. I'm currently somewhat bed bound still, but healing quickly. Another few weeks and I shall begin my studies first hand in the art of Mistweaving, through the crane and serpent styles... Tian monastery and the shrines await, and a whole heck of a lot of meditation and study.

Sorry if I've droned on. I hope to return to you all a few weeks before the sixth moon (mid summer) is upon us. Stay safe, and akashok give you strength.

P.s. I'm bringing a crate of mushan sausages back with me.

--Okiba Halftusk

[Origami.]

"Fear comes from the world around you. Terror creeps its way out from within."

Origami.

One step at a time...

Mara said to herself, taking the next step down with the upmost care. The slightest misstep would only end badly, only ever badly. The skin of a bare sole made contact with cold, rigid oak. Her weight applied itself as her other foot came down too, so carefully, but with a creak of strain all the same. This building and its cellar was old, but the next step had to be taken. And so it was.

Spill nothing...

Don't spill a precious drop, Mara my dear, not a drop.

She shuddered, the simple wooden platter rattling in her hands, all of the fine porcelain it held shaking from base to rim. The sweet smell of tea filled the air, its source threatening to spill with any wrong move. The only course of action was another step, and then another, until she reached the bottom of the wooden staircase where they, and he, awaited.

The whole room was murk, every corner of the basement held silhouettes in the shadows, boxes filled, discarded and forgotten. Though at the back, sat a lonely light, nearly smothered in the black, its tiny flame struggling to keep alive atop a short candle. Now with her bare feet supported atop cold, hard stone, she began to approach with nervous steps.

Don't tarry now my dear, some of us are thirsty.

Her whole body convulsed with revulsion, but obedience was all she could summon as each syllable coursed through her mind. The gentle sound of her feet padding across the ground hastened while the noise of chattering fine china intensified.

Don't drop it now, please...!

Stop.

She halted halfway between steps, the candle sat before her. The chattering came to an end. Her tired, bloodshot eyes twitched and eyelids blinked as they adjusted to the dim light. Around the candle in the murk sat three figures...

The first on her left was a goblin who slumped upon his knees, male and young though you could barely tell it. His raiment was that of a mechanic, oily overalls and thick boots all smeared with stains. His head was shaved and eyes wide open, sightless and locked upon nothing. From his mouth came a torrent of drool.

Light have mercy --

Silly child.

Mara restrained a grimace, turning her gaze right to the figure opposite the goblin. A Forsaken, also a male, writhed on the ground hissing as he gripped his skull. His bony arms exposed from beneath the sleeves of his fine silk robes. She thought him perhaps a cleric, a priest? He resisted more than the others, that much was known. Much good it was doing him, he was tearing what was left of his skin off his skull.

"The sha- ... The shadow! it is divine! divine, I will resi--" Hissed the forsaken, kicking his legs as he thrashed. The pain of what was likely in his mind pulling at every strand of him it could.

Just give in, give in... please

She had no sympathy for the forsaken, or their cause, or their dammed Horde. But nobody deserved that, nobody.

Nobody Mara? tsk, Everyone deserves something.

Mara snapped her gaze up, a panicked breath passing her lips. Her hazy sight shifted to the shadow opposite her across from the candle, between the other two. Half a mound, half a shape. Deft hands moved within the dark, cloaked and hooded in the dark. With each swift movement of its hands, a long claw like nail prodded, applied pressure and pinned his handiwork. He folded pieces of paper.

Why does he do this...

You know the answer to that.

Mara gulped, a strand of short auburn hair falling across her right eye as the shape shifted its 'head', two cold blue eyes looking up at her from under a hood. He sat cross legged, arrayed in black robes of many fabrics. Around him objects made of paper, shaped into all manner of item. He was folded paper to make Origami.

"Y-your tea..." She croaked, bowing her head as a vile smile of brown fangs flashed under that cowl. Without command or her even willing it, she set the tray of tea cups down on the ground and sat upon her knee's.

"My dear, how kind and diligent of you. We cannot have a party without good tea, can we?" The figure spoke, its vicious grin setting to pursed lips.

"O-oh yes! We must have tea." she agreed, hastily, this time her own doing followed by the over eager bobbing of her head. Though the Vegetated goblin and forsaken did not follow suit, this drew his ire.

"I said, Mechanic, we -must- have tea, mustn't we?" Came his voice, like silk and honey wrapped in venom. More a command, spoken this time, rather than a suggestion.

To her shock, that little green head bobbed several times and even gargled a 'yes', though his eyes still held no focus to them, dead to the world.

"Very good. I only wish Our cleric friend here had your manners master Goblin, but he needs to be house trained first." He spoke again, casting a glance to the Forsaken, his writhing and hissing coming to an abrupt end.

"Tsk, seems he broke first." He shook head hooded head, a clawed hand extending from the gloom to snap up a tiny tea-cup with tender care. Mara watched, her heart beating at a marathon pace, the forsaken falling still with foam around his lipless mouth and black blood dripping from the sockets that once held eyes.

Shifting her gaze to the retracting paw of her captor, she spotted his latest parchment creations. Three figures sat in front of him near the candle, each made of fine, crisp paper. The first was a man, or at least a humanoid, hunched and robed. The second was a beast, four legged and tailed as a feline. The last, had wings, though short and folded.

"Hmm, you are getting better Mara my dear, at making tea, though more practice is certainly needed." He spoke, finishing a curt slurp, lowering the cup from his mouth.

I just want to go ho--

You Are home.

She flinched, feeling his thoughts forced upon hers, resonating inside her head. That smile returned, those filthy fangs flashing under those cold azure eyes. She couldn't run, he controlled her, commanded her. she had to wait, make a run for it when the time was right--

You would not get far.

She grimaced, he could hear every thought. What else could she do other than obey? Resistance was becoming more and more futile, less and less possible.

"Good girl." He spoke, running his wide tongue across his lips, extending that clawed paw to snap up the third of his creations, its rigid paper wings not moving an inch.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" He smiled, looking from it to her, and back again.

She nodded, out of self compulsion rather than forced obedience, keeping him happy, doing as told.

"Fascinating and wondrous, intricate yet so simple..." He smiled, running the point of one of his lengthy claws down the neck of the paper bird he had made.

"I like the bird most of all..." She uttered, trying to take part, wanting to play the game.

Nobody Asked you.

His gaze flickered up to her, filled with cold disdain. Ringing bounced off the inside of her ears for half a moment, a rebuke to keep her tongue still. It hurt, it always hurt.

"...A shame, my dear, a shame. You see..." He began, extending his arm to hold the paper bird over the candle.

"...You can only truly understand something..." He continued, fire catching a wing, then the belly and head. Spreading and creeping to every corner as he set it down between the paper cat and man. Fire spread, embers reaching out and finding purchase. The room grew brighter for a moment and a half. His full form was on view now, a male Pandaren clad and sat in black robes. He watched the fire ripple through his three creations and tear them apart, while sickly tendrils of shadows danced around the room... unnatural, unclear.

"...When you pull it apart..." He finished as the fire began to die. The gloom crept back, obscuring him and the walls once more until all was as it had been before the light had visited the place for brief moments.

Mara didn't understand, not the paper toys, the strange talk, the mind tricks, the pain that shot through her at the slightest glance. His eyes moved to her now, all that could be seen of him in the shadows.

"I-i d-don't understand..." she whispered, as if the sound of her own voice was be snuffed out in the dark.

"My dear sweet child... You don't need to." He smiled, before blowing from pursed lips toward the candle.

And the Light died.

[1 - I'd preffer to be able to do this on skype with everyone else so we can communicate2 - You'd need to have some gear already (a minimum i-level of 685) 3 - Be able to fill a particular role using a specific spec.4 - Be patient, this isn't a "lol heroic rush and zerg" style thing, we'd apply CC and go slowly dungeon by dungeon.5 - Derping around will result in being declined further invites, I have no time for derping, derping is for derps.6 - do have fun, just don't screw around]

Right! so, as i'm interested in getting the new hierloom trinkets, valor and mythic dungeon gear... not to mention practice doing dungeons for Legion (as 5 mans will be a viable root to aquiring gear over raids!), I'm seeking others who may be itnerested in doing them!

So! I'm seeking people who would be interested in doing mythic 5 man dungeons on weekends, saturdays or sundays during the afternoons. This could help you gear, gain a mount, get valor, get practice/experience ready for Legion. Who knows, if we do well, we could do serious challenge modes before Legion, but i'm in no rush.

There are some things to this...

1 - I'd preffer to be able to do this on skype with everyone else so we can communicate
2 - You'd need to have some gear already (a minimum i-level of 685)
3 - Be able to fill a particular role using a specific spec.
4 - Be patient, this isn't a "lol heroic rush and zerg" style thing, we'd apply CC and go slowly dungeon by dungeon.
5 - Derping around will result in being declined further invites, I have no time for derping, derping is for derps.
6 - do have fun, just don't screw around

What am I looking for?

spares - reserves are all I need now!

I will be tanking as a guardian druid on Arhnum.

If you are interested, please drop a message in here or message me in game. This is NOT a first come first serve deal, I'll be taking the best available and most likely to be active, you may be turned down, don't take it personally.

primary group line up is as follows:

Tank - Arhnum (Guardian druid)
Healer - Kogra (Restoration shaman)
Dps 1 - Makaroth (Fury warrior)
Dps 2 - Vanara (Assassination Rogue)
Dps 3 - Mozrogg (fury warrior)

[Unkown]

"This is not the end, my son, Nor is it the beginning. Just another turn in the wheel, a change from this life, to the next. Do not mourn for me, for we will be reunited again." - Unkown

Devilstep: prologue

He took a slow breath. Deep, but calm. It had to be done right. Perfection was the goal, and anything else would simply not do. A standard was expected, and even now on this twilight day, perfection would be attained.

Just don't cut your thumb off.

He dragged the hardy Whetstone across the edge of the long, curved blade one last time. The cold blue alloy sang as sparks flew. Each side of the swords edge had been a torturous chore to sharpen to the perfect standard he wanted, and needed. Setting the tool and blade down at his side he allowed himself a ragged breath, he was done. Though what he would use the blade upon? who knew, all the prophecies, riddles and warnings were unclear. But, he would be ready for it come what may, as he always had been.

Now you are ready, with nought but time on your hands.

Krogon nodded to himself, his gaze drifting around the camp. Frostwolf overlook was quiet, the first rays of the dawn sun had only just begun to rise over the eastern mountains. Morning was upon the outpost, the rest of the tribe would soon be stirring... His favourite part of the day. Seeing them each arise from furs, either cranky from the previous nights ale, or bright eyed and ready for the challenges of what lay in the day ahead. Each Orc among that mass of sleeping rolls, furs and makeshift bed piles was so different from the last and the next, yet he called them family. His family.

Such a hard thing to give up and leave behind, after so long seeking it and with so little time to appreciate it.

He rose to his sandaled feet, sheathing his blade to the singing of steel and the click of the scabbard. A sigh of exhaustion escaped his lips. His body hurt, from foot to shoulder and bone through to muscle and sinew. Sixty five years he had walked the two worlds, and now each step was a chore, getting harder as the decades flew by. He concealed it well, or at the least thought he did.

Spirits have mercy, I will be glad to shed off all this pained weight on my bones.

Light, careful steps took him to the edge of the outpost. Its perimeter was lined by the ruined walls of some ogre settlement now long gone. From atop this small rise he could comfortably lean his left shoulder against the imposing great stones of a half fallen pillar, the cold surface relaxing his lifelong aches. Each had a story, usually ending in spilt blood or broken bones.

Many well deserved too.

He smiled at the thought. He had after all, not always been a 'good' Orc. Nay, it could be said in a past life he was much the opposite at times. From his first years to here, his last day, his life had been a flowing river of ups and downs that he could scarce believe.

So many memories...

With the folding of his arms, he inhaled deep the morning scents, dew damp grass, the smoke of fresh fires burning dry wood for the dawn meal. The sound of clattering metal, of woken bodies and stifled yawns permeated in his old ears. Sights, sounds and sensations he had grown used to, grown to love since he came out of his seclusion and joined the tribe. Things only someone part of a pack, of a greater family could appreciate, seeing and feeling the rhythms of each day among others.

His heart skipped a beat, struck with a pain. Flustered he placed a hand over his chest, was his aged heart betraying him? or perhaps...

No. But a wave of sadness, for that which I won't see again, not in this life anyway.

He forced a grim smile, standing along by his pillar as he watched all those green and brown faces of Orcs he knew begin to gather about the camp fire. He would miss every one of them...

...the songs and games in the shadow of Oshu'gun at Kosh'harg.

...the chants and cheers for the combatants at the tournament of the blades.

...the knowing grins and frustrated groan at a Wyvern challenge.

...the jokes and laughter around the campfire tree of Razor hill.

...the proud, welcoming yells for those who had newly taken the oath.

...and the howling of the wolves in anticipation of the hunt, blood, battle and victory.

Everything. I'll miss every dam thing.

He shuddered with a grunt, letting his heart beat freely at a pace now... nervous, worried, fearful and happy all at once. It was a torrent of emotion he had not let run over him in all his six years in the tribe. Six years he would not trade for all the gold in Ironforge.

A wistful sigh escaped his lips. It had been a long road to get to this day, and as much as he wanted to keep on going, he knew his body would not last... world weary as he was. He had near fully ruined what was left of his strength, securing victory at the last two tournaments of the blade. He had to spend every ounce of effort claiming the title of champion. If he did not, then he knew when the time came for the prophecy's and visions to be fulfilled then someone else would fall in his place. And today was the last effort, last task, last push on Draenor before they returned home...

It has to be today, it will be today.

He inhaled sharply, composing his breathing and thoughts. He had his memories, and would hold them close. He could not continue limping on as he had, from one scrape and caper to the next. What honour was there in surviving for no purpose? none, it would be an agony and a shame. But what really hurt...

...So many future adventures, so many new stories I will miss out on.

He forced a smile. The future and its glories belonged to them beyond this day, the past was his, and there he would soon stay. There was no times for doubts, or regrets, even if he could be allowed it, full well knowing what he had coming. His mind span, reeling back in time while the sun continued to rise...

How did I get to this point? How did I come to need so badly to be part of this pack? How did this road lead me here...

He quizzed himself, furrowing his brow forcing himself to recall. Shifting through the depths of time made into moving images upon his mind. The answer was obvious though, and he ought to of realized sooner...

That maimed old Goat--

At that thought he paused, and laughed. His own thoughts had become  littered with an Irony. There was little else to it.

Stretching his arms high, with the crack and pop of extended limbs and joints he smiled. Beginning his stroll down into camp, today he would eat a hearty breakfast, spend time with his pack and look back on his life in his own mind. for dying was a taxing business, and he would make 'death' work hard to claim him... but not before he was content with running among wolves for one more day.

With the nods and greetings of the others welcoming him to the fire, he thought to himself and looked back through the memory of his days...

...it all began, long, long ago. With a One-armed Orc, named Ashlan.

[Goodbye.]

Goodbye.

Where can I even start....?

Six years, and by god they have been good.

As many of you will know, this has been on the horizon for nearly a year, and set in stone for eight months now as I hurtle toward beginning my new job. And dam, has that time flown, the months slipping by faster than I could of imagined. Too fast, in fact. My new career will have me returning to sea once again, and this time I fully intend to make a full effort with it... no more distractions, ten years of WoW now and it's time to crack on with life. The adventure has to end someday after all. Krogon died a few months ago now, and his farewell has come and gone, now it is my turn to say farewell and thank you from me the player and person.

Though my time in this illustrious guild and gathering of fine souls did not end as I, and likely many others, would of preferred... I can say whole heartedly I hold no grudges or ill feelings. What is done, is done. And with that, I shall cling to a great many fond memories.

I have these fond memories because this guild has a spark of magic that others can't even touch, it has a social bond of friendship that can overcome all hurdles and most importantly it has the gifted ability to provide the single best Roleplay experience that I have ever encountered.

Thanks to this guild I have fought terrible monsters, won great victory's in battle, felt sadness and joy, glory and grief. Scaled the tallest mountains, sank 3 ships (allegedly), Stoked the flames of revolution and made a name for myself and my characters. This guild gave me the tools to make, share and enjoy brilliant experiences and go on a real adventure with friends, and among friends.

But with the end of my adventure, begins so many more. I envy you all, you have so many wonderful things to come. Enjoy the camp fires, the jokes around the shared flame. And most importantly relish the story in all its highs and lows, because the best roleplay tugs on all our heart strings, and we enjoy every second of it.

Along with this farewell, someone will have deposited a little gift into the guild bank to mark my departure. Use it wisely, but most importantly enjoy using it, it's more or less all I have left to give. on top of that, I shall continue to frequent these forums to read your brilliant story's and keep in contact. And lastly, I plan to post a weekly chapter in a story I've had planned for a few years now... Krogon being so old, I built up a considerable and hidden back story to his life before he joined the tribe, so from now on I plan to share it with you all. Part writing practice, part fun, it should with some luck make my 'darkness' story look small scale in the end (though not drive me nearly as frantically neurotic), Any IC reactions/thoughts/reply's to this or the story can go here or there (not that I know how that would work?).

And what else can I say now? I don't know, the pangs of regret in my chest are starting and the itch at the corner of my eye is on its way...

Thank you all, and best luck to this amazing guild in the future. Enjoy the Adventure!

For the blood of the Tribe!

--Krogon

Hello! if your not yet aware, Arena skirmishes are currently a great way to gear up for honor gear, awarding on average around 80 honor per win plus a strongbox that contains honor/gold and maybe an aspirants item. Further more...

ITS SKIRMISH WEEKEND THIS WEEK!

Which means a win gains you three times as much honor, so thats around 250 honor per win. To that end, using my alts, i'm more than willing to boost anyone who wants to gear up a red blade character with honor gear.

So, if your interested, drop your name here. i'll be doing so friday/Sunday/monday. (away saturday).

[1)]

Hello! I thought I'd drop a quick suggestion in here for people who want to quickly gear up in the new honor gear coming in patch 6.2

If Blizzard follows its usual trend, the new honor gear will have stats on par with the 6.0 and 6.1 (season 1) conquest gear. So grabbing it quickly will be the key to getting a good/easy head start in season 2 and beyond. So here are my suggestions!

1) Get honor capped. this should be fairly obvious, 4k honor can buy you several pieces of gear, so get capped!

2) Don't worry about conquest. This will be turned into honor, and extra honor will be converted into gold. So either spend it now or be ready for some extra shiny.

3) Have 21 work orders ready to be collected at your Gladiator sanctum (if you have one) on patch day. This way when you log in that morning, you can spend your honor, then collect these work orders for More honor, plus new honor items (if they do drop from it, if not then its vendor stuff), plus conquest.

4) cap Ashran artifact fragments (to 1000) if you can. this can be more tricky, as deaths in ashran will result in you losing half your fragments. But having the full thousand means you can ... after spending your honor from other sources, hand them in for thousands more! the conversion rate is approximatly 3 honor for 1 fragment. so 1000 fragments will give you 3000 honor, well worth getting.

5) get some Gold, silver and bronze strongboxes from Battlegrounds up to 2 days before patch day. these have the chance to contain honor, conquest, gold and new honor gear (maybe). When patch day comes and you've spent your initial cap, open these bad boys up!

6) "Domination of..."  Missions are also an option, leave them un-used in your mission list for two days prior to patch night, then the night before send followers out on all of them. Only collect them -after- you have spent your honour cap though, otherwise the honour will be lost.

7) Option seven is very in-efficient and I don't recommend it unless you are desperate or swimming in garrison resources. Namely, buy Rush garisson orders from Sergeat grimjaw outside your garrison town hall, these will speedily complete five work orders. In this case, work orders from the gladiators sanctum, though it costs 1000 resources a pop, so be careful!

8] Have the tol barad and wintergrasp honor quests completed in your quest logs, ready to hand in. on patch day, once you have spent your initial cap, hand these in for a quick boost! sadly the blue sky logging grounds quests no longer reward honor.

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While some of you may have full conquest and little to no use for this new honor gear, it does have some very, very nice models... so check the link below! the LFr/honor gear is the bottom selection. I'm unsure which color variants are for LFR and which are for honor, but fingers crossed you all get what you want!

http://www.wowhead.com/news=247360/patch-6-2-armor-models-and-set-bonus-preview

Enjoy! and happy stabbings!

[Anyone]

Right... so, this isn't easy to explain, so here it goes!

Basically, I'm getting emotional withdrawal from not having Krogon to play. This is in part because of routine, but in part because a little voice in the back of my head is tormenting me with the fact i should probably of waited with his death until the end of august. However, that is done, and he won't be coming back, nope, full stop.

My real problem is my choice of part time replacement. With Krogon gone, i wanted something simple to play that didn't get too sucked in and wasn't too much of a 'deep' character, namely Thrork the raider. Yet this morning I woke up and literally bumped my head on a wall repeatedly in realizing that by making Thrork into Kaang'esh, i've taken several back-steps. I'm dragging myself back into krogon'eque circles of behaviour and giving myself reasons to keep playing WoW beyond August (which with my new job, would be beyond folly.)

So! heres the question...  I don't want to Retcon Krogons death, But I -do- want to go back to Thrork the raider, otherwise I feel I may stop playing my rogue all together just to teach myself a lesson. And I'd rather a scalpel cut at a time as opposed to a blunt force amputation of my rogue.

Would Anyone have any great protests if we just wipe him from our memories and i go back to him being that funny smelling raider? And do feel free to voice any concerns or opinions, I'm just annoyed with myself that I did something so silly.

Anyhow, If such is allowed, I'm sure any personal/one to one RP can be discussed and revised.

Thanks for reading this!