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Messages - Ordok Axebite

The Campfire / Kairah's Challenge
August 29, 2020, 07:03:41 AM

The sun shone a deep and seething orange upon the dust-covered roofings of Razor Hill. Evening was slowly approaching, and so was the change of guard: Kairah was keenly aware of this fact, as proven by her ‘expert’ position just to the left of the Southern Gate. Tucked between three large wooden beams, she eagerly gripped the rope that was soon to be the downfall of Gorek, Tas’hul and Briga. “Always in the front”, Olgar had mentioned gleefully; and by the ancestors he was right. There they came: Two orcs and a troll, strolling up from the road which led up all the way from the Valley of Trials, where she would undergo her Om’riggor in a year or four. There could be no doubt that the three guards had a long journey behind them, Kairah had seen their mounts were still getting stabled some distance away. Whether they had come from Sen’jin village or the Valley was impossible to tell, or now however it was time to focus on the task at hand. “Come on, ten more”, she uttered to herself before catching herself and internalizing those thoughts, five, Kairah added her left hand to the right holding the rope low. Three, two, one… NOW! With a not-so-mighty heave, the rope sprang up about half a foot from the ground, and caught its first victim by sheer surprise. “Ya hear de rumours from de seas? Some storm above isl-... Oh-mon!” Tas’hul was the first to go, his tusks burrowing into the dry dirt below him. Before she could react to her blue companion’s downfall, Briga stumbled over the trap and fell forth to her knees, barely catching herself with the gleaming sharpened axe she held. Gorek however was in the back by some margin, which gave the massive green orc a chance to stop in time. A single furious eye followed the rope to the right-... then to the left.
“Oh, sticks…” The mischievous girl muttered before she promptly let go of the trap, deciding two victims to be quite a success for her first hit of the week. Dust and dirt crusted green feet left clear impressions in the craggy Durotar ground as she made around a corner and rushed through the traders’ caravan that had set up outside the Western gate. With their fish, goat’s milk and other goods either toppled or otherwise sullied, angry shouts of Trolls and Goblins followed her crashing through, as did their subsequent yelps of frustration when Gorek barreled through as well in his pursuit. Another corner made as her pursuer fell to the background more and more, past the barracks, left to the inn, below the great tree and- “What have we here?” A painfully familiar voice stopped Kairah right in her tracks. She panicked, looking around for a place to possibly hide, finding it inside one of the woven baskets which had been set out to air out the smell of whatever had been in there. The figure that spooked her so grunted in amusement as he leant against the inn’s outer wall, nipping at a pickled egg in all calmness. “Shush! He will hear!” Kairah shout-whispered, to which the sun weathered Orc shrugged. “It won’t be me he hears, whelp.” The firm steps of the enraged Grunt came closer, closer, so close that she could almost hear Gorek’s heartbeat in his bloated throat, then receded, moving on and down the path to wherever he might’ve thought she’d gone. A sigh of relief passed her lips as she rose from that basket, along with the mischievous giggle she’d been holding on to all the way through this adrenaline-induced escape from the grunt’s clutches.
“Heh! Did you see where he went, Ordok?” She asked, the basket’s lid worn as a Pandaren straw hat. “How am I to know,” he spoke casually, a grin on his face, “he was your quarry, it is you who should’ve kept him in your eyes.” Kairah didn’t appreciate that, even if it came from her combat teacher. The girl whirled at Ordok, spitting fire with her eyes. Her cheeks went a darker shade of greed as fury built in her heart. “You don’t need to tell me how to look at people! I have -eyes-, just as you! I know how to use them!” She raged on for a couple of moments, receiving nothing in return from him.
“Perhaps you should use your ears as well,” another voice suddenly said, out of breath and very clearly out of patience. Kairah froze instantly, Ordok smirked. “Come here -whelp-!” Yanked at the shoulder, the defeated Orcling found herself flung unto the ground of Razor Hill’s Western road, while the ugly green Orc came walking up to her. His furious reb-brownish eyes glared down at her from under black, badly braided hair.
“I-it was just a joke, mister Gorek! I-I d-didn’t mean an-anything by it!” Gorek resisted his balled fist from finding her face, knowing full well the fury of her family.
“No you -didn’t-. Your parents ought to give you a good beating, girl, and you’ll bring me to them so I can offer such a thing myself with their -blessing-. Perhaps you’ll learn not to bother your betters then, hmm?!” He all but spat as he scooped Kairah up, and started to drag the trashing whelp away by one arm. “Hold it there, Gorek.” Ordok said promptly and sternly, having emerged from his place by the inn. Most of his upper body was ever hidden beneath a blue, dusty and tattered flag which doubled as a cloak. “What now, Steelgrip?”
“Axebite. You’ll do well to remember my deeds in Tanaan.” “Fine, Axebite, what now?” Gorek found himself unable to resist the other orc’s words, for whatever reason a degree of respect laced the words he spoke in rebuttal. Ordok took a couple of steps towards the Grunt and his captive, chomping away at the last of his early-evening snack. “I will take it from here, no need to busy yourself with this matter… Besides,” he paused as his blue eyes wandered to the sky to the East, Dark clouds hanging over the far-off coast, “there’s a storm brewing. Best get the guard change underway.” Again, something about Ordok’s presence gave Gorek pause. Not because the Mag’har was such an imposing figure, he himself was just as sturdy an Orc, but rather because he knew that the rebellious Kairah was familiar with this particular one, and this one had shown his worth a hundred times over in the recently concluded campaign in the other Draenor. Gorek grunted, almost throwing the girl at Axebite. “Fine, just make sure the parents offer her a firm adjustment.” “Aka’magosh, Sharptusk.” Ordok nodded firmly at the grunt. Gorek waved his hand up in response with a final huff, and walked off.
“You really showed him, hah!” Kairah revelled at the older orc, sticking her tongue out at Gorek’s back, before being swiftly snapped out of her short-lived celebration and dragged along. “Wh- What are you doing!” She protested vehemently. “Taking you to your parents, thought I’d let you off so easily?” He grinned, though the seriousness in his voice said it all. Kairah’s head dropped, and she fell silent.

“Tripping the guards, really?” “Yes papa… It was just a bit of fun! Olgar even said th-” “OLGAR said? By the ancestors, how many times am I to tell you he is not to be lingered around, you know what his father is!” Kuzrel’s earrings shook about as he whirled his head in this heated speech to his daughter. Kairah felt small, like a Goblin that was about to get trampled by one of those ugly Gronn she had heard about. “You ought to be glad Ordok found you when he did, the grunts are on edge after the rumours started spreading.” “Indeed, and Gorek had murder in his eyes even moreso than he normally does.” “Shattered Hand, hmm?” “Indeed.” Ordok’s lips curled around his yellowing tusks into a grin at Kairah’s mother, Fil’gra. “We’ll deal with you then, little pup.” She continued as Kuzrel grumbled about on his way to the firepit in the center of the hut. “Thank you for bringing her, Axebite. Care to stay for food? The night’s crawling close.” “No thank you,” Ordok replied as he stepped past the defeated troublemaker, “I’ll go and have some training behind the Great Hall before the feast there. Let me know if you need me.” She nodded with a grin, then made sure to eye up her daughter real good. As Ordok stepped out of the hut he could already hear Kuzrel bristle towards Kairah, words and grunts of frustration blending.

An hour or so passed, and Ordok felt the sweat pouring from his head, leaving little droplets of effort on the barren ground. With a heave he shattered the dummy’s arm, with another he popped the flour-sack head off. It flew through the air and rolled over the floor, leaving a trail of straw and broken dreams until it came to a stop by the feet of a familiar face. “Ordok.” She said stiffly, barely holding up an axe that was probably meant as an ornament. “Kairah, come to train already? We are slated to have our go tomorrow, you know.” “No. Mum and papa told me off and said I needed to keep my honor intact, as well as that of my family. ‘Such dumb jokes are below you’ they said.” Ordok’s eyebrow rose, his lip curling into a one-sided grin as Kairah started coming closer. The youthful Orc had always had a fire about her, one she inherited from her father- but more measured, like her mother. No doubt she felt slighted, the deep frown on her face and the dragging of the ‘axe’ made that much clear. “I got to reclaim my honor, you ratted me out and embarrassed me to my parents!” She shouted, petulant anger ringing true in her voice. “So I challenge you to mar-.. Mak.. The thing!”
Gracious as a fish on dry land she took on a battle position with the axe somewhat in hand, already breathing heavily from that simple effort. Ordok pondered for a moment, what would be the right course of action, what would be the thing to make her learn from her mistake? The thought came to him like a moth to a lantern: He would indulge Kairah in this, and so he raised his wooden training sword. “Well, if you’re going to fight me with that mighty weapon, I had better get me a buckler.” “You have five seconds, old man!” And so he gathered a dusty old shield, one that had probably seen as many hands as it had seen days. “Let’s have this thing over with then.” He readied himself in a loose stance, knowing the inevitable to come; and so it did. Kairah raced, no, stumbled forth to have her axe meet his shield, eyes squinted shut as to not get any of Durotar’s ever present dust into them. She swung in a wide arc, finding thin hot air instead of currently hated flesh. Her quarry had sidestepped her, and saw fit to add insult to injury by somewhat kicking her behind in the process. “Ouch! Hey!” “Eyes -open-, Kairah. Remember!” The old Warrior said in a chuckle before appearing by her side. Before she realized she was listening to his instructions while trying to reclaim her honor, she flashed a quick glance and responded by jabbing the butt-end of the weapon into his upper leg. “Better!” Ordok stepped back, swinging the wooden sword around to tap her on the shoulder, and made sure to do it with appropriate force. The angered child however had her father’s fire in the eyes still, eyes that were now open, to Ordok’s pleasant surprise. She ducked the blow and jumped forth, however small the jump was, towards the teacher. The axe swung and made contact with the shield, chipping some of the old wood off in the process and embedding it into the bulk, at the cost of her ownership of the weapon. Ordok jerked the shield back, taking with it the embedded blade. “Hey, give that back!” Kairah protested, gasping for her voice after swinging such a large tool. “Your grip is still weak, take it back from me!” Ordok easily sidestepped her first rushed attempt of grabbing at the weapon, then whirled around in a test of speed. To his surprise, Kairah latched on to the butt-end of her ‘weapon’ and yanked at it with surprising ferocity. She felt as if all the blood in her body had rushed to her head and hands, and her heart throbbing with the heat of battle she used the latter to free the axe from the shield and stumbled back a couple steps. “Stance!” He yelled at her, once more returning the girl to reality. Feet apart, knees slightly bent, like a tree in the wind. He would teach me how to defeat him… Why?
Ordok came moving up to her now, wooden weapon raised to strike. Two hands, she realized and acted accordingly; raising the axe above her head to block the incoming blow successfully. “Very good!” Ordok pulled back, the grin on his face increasing in wideness.
So that was why… She thought to herself as she witnessed that grin. “You’re mocking me!”
“I am teaching you a lesson, phah!” He stood back, shield and training sword at the ready while Kairah made sure to readjust her stance. A darker green flush came over her already pounding head, one of anger and slowly building shame. How had he turned this honorable duel into something so menial? She was going to make him pay for taking her to her parents, but instead she was getting punished for even trying. “Don’t think you can do it?”
“I am strong enough…” She uttered softly in response, slow, deep breaths following while the dust upon the ground got kicked up by her steps. He’ll never see it coming.
With a couple of strides Kairah found herself before Ordok’s blue-cloaked frame, her axe swung in an underhand fashion to strike the shield from his hand before coming down to his shoulder. She snarled with a grin as she thought to make an impact- then felt herself to be very much lighter than before. A sharp pain shot through her face as the pommel of the sword knocked her down to the ground, to which she stumbled clumsily. The Axe, instead of making contact, flew through the air and returned to the floor some feet away, burying itself into the dry ground with the same vigor she would’ve wanted it to do to the flesh of her enemy. From above, Ordok grinned down at the fallen Orc with, to her, near-mockery.
“You got to learn one day, Kairah.” He spoke, softer than she had anticipated. The mocking smile had turned into something different, one of encouragement. As the rage started to recede, the shame she had started to feel earlier came to flood in its place like a tidal wave to the shore of Kalimdor. She could feel tears welling in her eyes, they stung like little wasps at the backs of her eyelids. “Why did you attack me?” He started.
“I wanted to reclaim m-my honor...” She responded, sniffling. “What honor, that of your family?” He responded, shaking his head somewhat. “The honor of your family is yours to protect too, but not yet.” “I just wanted to have some fun by the gate… But you ruined it for me, and ratted me out to my parents.” “You weren’t careful enough to make sure you tripped them all and could make a clean escape.” Ordok snickered lightly and knelt down, his buckler set to the side and hand out to help her up. She looked away at first, her already cracked pride couldn’t take another hit- though again, her head and body did hurt a great deal. “Hmpf.” She huffed, taking the hand and seeing herself hauled to her feet effortlessly. “You will become strong one day, Kairah. And when you do, I will be right there with you to stand in battle.” “But I want to be strong -now-...” She sighed deeply, wiping away a couple tears from her face. “Strength and Honor. That is the way, neither exists truly without the other.” Ordok paused for a moment, letting those words sink into Kairah’s mind. As he watched her settle a bit, he couldn’t help but smile more benevolently. So much like Grel’ka…
”Tonight there is a feast in the great hall, some of the Braves from Mulgore have brought good food, there will be music and dance.” Kairah shuffled awkwardly in place, letting the thoughts in her mind come to their own. “Mum and papa probably won’t let me go…” She declared, already panning herself about to watch the great hall. “Are you going to admit defeat already? You were quick enough to fight me, hmm?” He snickered, stashing the weapon and shield away by the wall where he found them. “I don’t think they’ll make a problem of it.” He followed up when no answer came. “Besides, your father could use a good feast.” “He’s a grump.” “Perhaps…” They met eyes, a mischievous grin forming on Kairah’s face. “Go, tell them what happened here. -Listen- to them, do what you must do and you might be able to attend after all.” “Promise?” “No promise, but some advice at least. Besides, our normal training resumes tomorrow. We’ll see about your techniques with more of such weapons.” He pointed at the axe. Kairah couldn’t stop herself from fully smiling, the tears upon her face readily drying up. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Ordok! I’ll beat you then!” “That’s the spirit, go! Phah, return the axe.” He wasn’t half done speaking or Kairah was already gone, a trail of dust following in her wake. The axe still sat embedded in the ground however, so there it would stay until the morrow he figured.

Evening had come to be much deeper over Razor Hill as Ordok emerged from the Great Hall with another pickled egg. He hadn’t seen Kairah since their duel some hours ago, and he counted that a good thing. Perhaps she was resting up after combat, regaining what little strength she had for tomorrow’s training. The town was slowly coming to rest as businesses were cleared out, traders packing the last of their wares before they would head out for the road again or simply went to sleep. A warm wind breezed through, making the cotton and skin roofings of the many huts and tents sway to relieve them of dust. The ground seemed to rumble lightly, as it tended to do now and again since the Cataclysm, which destabilized the entire continent. Thinking nothing of it, he walked calmly towards his tent upon the cliffside facing the road to Orgrimmar. “Aside, coming through!” Distant shouting echoed through the air, paired with another rumble- this time far off. A cart pulled by a pair of relatively small Kodo came rushing up into the village, accompanied by some wolf, hawkstrider and raptor riders with sullied armor and bloodied weapons in hand. “We need Shaman, Priests, any Druid you can find!” “At once!” The guard that had gotten the chaotic contingent’s attention rushed off to rouse what healers she could find. From one of the far off huts emerged an older orc, older than Ordok for certain, but no less keen of mind- perhaps too keen. It was Zukrel, Olgar’s father, and he was a Warlock. The caster stepped towards the group of new arrivals with brisk speed, some form of distress etched upon his face as he raised his hands.
This was a sight Ordok disliked greatly, their magics seeped from their hands in such ways. “Stop right there, -warlock-!” Ordok commanded, his words towards Zukrel laced with thinly veiled disgust while he approached. “Axebite! Grab a weapon!” The usually proud and cocky Warlock replied, his hands now trying to get the attention of other guards strewn about the place. Zukrel was one of the few Warlocks openly practicing in these parts, and probably the only one that had somewhat proven his uses to be more than simple malignancy. “What, you’re going to challenge me too? You’ll do well to remember your place, speak sense, Zukrel!” “Turn to the East, you fool!” Ordok stopped at that insult, mere feet from Zukrel and the cart. Somehow the sentence had carried a weight he hadn’t expected. The Warlock and those upon and around the cart had now come into clear view. The latter had wounds deep and blackened- laced with a loathed magic he could identify a league away. Silence gripped Ordok Axebite, for now he realized who had just rushed in: their tabards were those of the Horde’s Navy, a relatively small yet mighty force. The Kodos had to be on the smaller side, or they wouldn’t be able to come on the ship… Or off it. Ordok swallowed hard, the beating of his heart rising by the second. Not today… He pleaded with the ancestors, pleaded with fate itself. The faces he had seen that day all seemed to blend together as they raced through his mind. The innkeeper, Kuzrel, Fil’gra, Gorek, all those in attendance at the feast… So many faces, so many.
Ordok Axebite glanced at the East, towards the coast, his blue eyes narrowing at the sight before him. Kairah… He muttered.

A flash of green lightning streaked across the darkened sky.

Red Blade Records / Ordok Axebite
August 27, 2020, 07:26:50 PM

Name: Ordok Axebite
Alias: "Steelgrip"
Rank: New Blood

Age: 57
Gender: Male
Race: Orc (MU Mag'har)
Clan: Whiteclaw
Class: Warrior
Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Family: Gollash (father)†, Ha'gra (mate)†, Hal'ok (Son)
Known Friends: Far and few inbetween, none truly yet in the clan.
Known Enemies: None the clan knows of.

Brown-skinned, greying beard with white streaks and weathered by sun and combat: Ordok stands tall and broad as any an Orcish warrior would. With sea-blue eyes set somewhat deeply in their sockets, the gaze of this soldier of the Horde is one of iron. It is obvious that he excersizes much, though long years of strife have had their toll. The skin hangs slightly around his face and neck as age starts to creep up more and more every year.

His voice is one rumbling with pent-up agression, yet laced with the wisdom of years. The closest one might compare it with would be Ga'nar.

Unlike years past, Ordok has come to a point in his life where he can no longer permit anger and bloodlust to take over his train of thought. The linear approach of steel to flesh has failed him in the past, to the ruin of many. And so he now strikes as a calm and collected Orc, one who is deeply concerned with the traditions and ancestry of his people, while also retaining a pack-mentality which he is hard pressed to let go of when any other option is available. As calm as he can be out of combat, so vicious is he upon the field of battle. Easy to anger when injustices are dispensed upon those he cares for, he makes for an orc of two sides.

Spoiler: show
Long forgotten may the Whiteclaw Clan be, snowed under by betrayal and hatred of a fel-crazed Horde. But some of its wayward members yet linger in recent times, and so does Ordok. Born to fierce yet loving parents in the mountains of Frostfire, Ordok learned to survive in an inhospitable environment from a young age. At the age of fourteen he underwent his Om’riggor, one of the last held by the Clan. Due to the ever growing tension within the Clans, which had at this time was forming into the first Horde, this Om’riggor took place in the Wild pinelands of Frostfire Ridge, where the youth was instructed to track down a Rylak and slay the beast. What transpired however, was very much different.
Ordok followed the tracks of the great beasts, though they were flying hunters their litter of food and drool were visible on rock, tree and ground. The track started to include blood after Ordok came by a slain Thunderlord hunter, her quiver missing several arrows. After hours of travel, the young orc finally came to a clearing to find the Rylak: Dead, and actively being devoured by a Garn. She was on the smaller side, though her midnight fur was as fearsome a contrast as the bladespire holds were to the snowy peaks. Feeling threatened, the Garn  went to attack. In the process of the fight, Ordok’s one weapon, his hunting spear, was broken by a single snap of the beast. Only through sheer luck and strength of hands, Ordok was able to fight off the Garn, eventually strangling it from the back of the hulking beast. This feat earned him the name “Steelgrip”, and to this day his weapons each sport one or more teeth from the Garn he killed that day.
It proved to be a defining moment in his life, for Ordok went on to become a fierce and unyielding warrior of the Horde. Even when the red pox had him bound to Garadar for a time after, his free-minded self and unbending will had him sneak out of the encampments to seek out the place where the Horde was rumoured to be Gathering: A place in Tanaan Jungle that would be the beginning of the end of the world. Having blended in with the Frostwolves while his own Clan was mysteriously absent, Ordok managed to refrain from drinking the foul looking liquid Gul’dan offered, while still taking part in glorious battle. Glorious battle which left him so scarred of mind and body, that his return to Garadar was ensured in earnest.
The years went by, the world was dying. Watching from afar, Ordok Steelgrip saw the Horde he had looked up to for a time descend into madness, twisting into the Fel-Horde. It was when the world was truly lost and the call for reinforcements to take the northern lands of this new world called “Azeroth” was given, he finally raced to meet his destiny.
From that moment on, Ordok gave himself to the Horde’s cause. With the Warlocks suppressed by Warchief Doomhammer’s decree, the corrupting saturation of their magics left the Mag’har nearly untouched. Though even to this day his chin has faded slightly to a very faint green, none can see below the beard.

Much more is to be told of Ordok, for example the story of how his Garn-choking name of honor was forever changed to "Axebite" in an alternate Tanaan Jungle, or how he met his mate and had a child, how he eventually lost them both. But some stories are better told by a campfire, some stories are better not told at all.

Things you may know about this character:
• He knows the Human language, both the Northern dialect and Stormwind Common.
• His weapon of choice is a two-handed axe, which he crafted and maintains himself.
• He lost his Mate in Dragonblight during the Horde offensive of Northrend.
• He has a soft spot for children and beasts, they seem to calm him.

Things you may not know about this character:
Spoiler: show
• The Ellekk plushie he carries by his side at all times was one he gathered from the corpse of a Draenei child in Shattrath, and is the reason he refuses to carry a weapon openly in the city.
• He has some spots of fel-taint from earlier years: On his chin, his left foot and inside of his left wrist.
• Ordok was once sentenced to five years forced grunt duty for outright killing a Warlock in the valley of Strength without provocation

Memorable Quotes:
“This axe BITES!”
“Sounds like Warlock -mischief- to me.”

Spoiler: Gallery • show

Nothing yet ;_;