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Neato!

Don't tease me! I simply asked! I knew about Kraag'gol, I'm not that out of the loop!

Not technically art, but I've done manipulated in-game models for past Chieftains of Clan Redblade, and our very own forum banners. So here's the first of the next wave, the WoD continuity version of Akesh the Poisoner!

Akesh is alive in WoD? D:

He so muscular and sexy. *drools*

So much awesome glad to be a part Kro!

I have the Garn!

*At the midnight hour, a shadow of an orc flickers against the ground making low grunts with each painful step, clasping it's side in agony, the shadow slowly makes it's way to the area of the time capsule; peering over the disturbed earth with a faint smile.*

"There be times in a Shaman's path where meditatin' t'Spirits must come second, I should've been here, grom'damnit..."

*Falling to it's knees, every movement makes piercing noises through the night's silence, as creaking bones and rustled grass orchestrates the event, the figure brings it's hand over the covering earth and with shut eyes, the faint smile shifts into a dark frown, a single warm tear running down the figure's face to stain the earth with it's moisture.*

"I have no kin, I have no pups, I have...nothing, but this Tribe" whispered the figure as if talking directly to the capsule through the earthen prison protecting it, "I have nothin' t'give but m'heart an' soul; m'life to protect what may come o' my Pack, know this, when ye honour us; yer parents, yer grand-parents, tha' even faceless lone wolves, long forgotten, bared tooth an' claw fer t'next generation."

*Wiping the tear from it's face, the figure struggles to rise to it's feet, aided by the lifting winds now whistling around the area. It turns it's back to the scene and begins to limp away.*

Edited further for anyone potentially enjoying this! 

T'deepest green, a flash o' grom'damned fel,
Upheld by our old orcish tradition,
Spillin' fresh red blood an' guts; shit t'smell.
But we won't be 'gain held t'submission.
Yer changed me, t'views I could nay foresee,
Dedicated, t'Spirits made me great.
Such I could not complain o'ever flee,
A home tha' kept me like a livin' mate.
I drew blood fer yer an' I had nay doubt,
Wars were fought in yer name, I fought, I served,
Screamin' 'Lok'tar' t'honour yer with shout.
An' as I gave t'Pinks all they deserved,
I remembered t'annals; vows describe,
"Fer the Blood!" of t'Red Blade Tribe.



I felt the need to pervert my original sonnet written for Kingdom of Arathor, I think I like this new one more. Here is the original if you want to read it for a nostalgia blast for those who were around in those times.

"The purest green, as stunnin' as the Light,
Downtrodden by my childish feet surpass
Yer ever dry plains, such a gorgeous sight,
A whole new world wit' Hills tha' last an' last.
Ye grew wit' me, as I aged, so did ye,
I loved ye, an' ye blessed me with life
Such I could nay complain, o' ever flee,
A home tha' kept me, like a livin' wife.
I drew blood for ye, an' I kept ye well,
Wars were fought in yer name, I fought, I served
Shoutin' 'Ah-hoom', te honour ye with yell,
An' as I gave te Orcs all they deserved.
I remembered vows thought lost to old lore,
Esarus thar no'Darador, my beloved Arathor."

I'll be away as of tonight til monday night! Have a good weekend guys!

Gashuk enjoying the view.

["Water, taken in moderation, cannot hurt anybody" - A Frostwolf Farseer]

"Water, taken in moderation, cannot hurt anybody" - A Frostwolf Farseer

-Chapter one, Water.

“Grhm, it is no doubt tha' Devilstep is no Shaman if he truly believes that t'water tha' still lays in Oshu'gun's ridges is in no way connected t'the Elemental Spirits. There be a spirit in every rock, flicker o' flame, every raindrop an' every breath o' wind...”, grunted the aged Shaman as he took determined steps ever closer to the Spirit Mountain travelling south from Garadar's warmth. His right hand worked it's way ever closer to the four totem's strapped to his side absently feeling their length and running his fingers across their unique rune carvings. Four sharpened lengths of dark wood, not quite the same quality of wood that Gashuk Bloodfire wrought from the trees of Shadowmoon in his youth, but all the same the spitting image.

It had taken Gashuk years back then to studiously learn then delicately carve the specific runes for each and every totem so that it became a suitable conduit for each differing element, thankfully this time around he already knew how and as he walked on, Gashuk ran his fingers along the Earth Totem. Along each and every powerful etching, knowing that they intertwine with one another like earth does, knowing that each and every one of them points in the direction of the ground so that any spirit who willingly ties himself to the totem can feel closer to it's home. His green fingers moved onto the Air Totem, immediately Gashuk sensed the difference in the shape and direction these runes ran in, facing the sky, these runes like powerful gusts of wind did not block each other, they ran freely up the length of the dark wood separated like each thunder strike is before it smites the ground. Gashuk smiled, feeling the wind at his back like never before, as his fingers move onto the newest addition to the replicas. His Water Totem, it still felt warm from the camp-fire where he sat finishing it's carvings mere moments ago, it's carvings were still raw and felt rough to the Shaman's touch as he followed their winding pathway flowing freely along the length of the wood, intertwined and together but without blocking the other runes, they work as a team, mimicking a river's stream. Finally Gashuk gripped the Fire Totem to be, he felt it's bare length, absolutely untouched and within an instant, released it. “Grhm, not yet Soulfury...Yer not ready...”, warned the Shaman to himself as his eyes finally caught the splendour of Oshu'gun's peak.

As the orc continued onto the Spirit Fields, he begun to think to what he was about to do. Climb into the depths of Oshu'gun for the first time in many moons and ask to share what was the Ancestors; the water gifted to them by all who participated in the Kosh'harg festival mere days ago. Suddenly the enormity of the task hit Gashuk, he slowed to a stop and looked at the mountain in front of him; tears running down his face from it's glory. “T'Spirits guide me...no?” grunted the orc, thinking back to many months ago.

Redridge, another mountainous region, claimed by the Alliance yet held many orcs in it's grasp. It was an old Blackrock ruin that the Horde found itself in and terrible battles raged for the supplies that the Horde so desperately needed, yet it was not the only place that saw battle. Deep within the lake nearby dwelled a corrupted Elemental screaming out for aid and eventually the Shaman within the Horde's forces heard it's pleas.

Gashuk remained still, his streaming eyes fixated on the glimmering mountain in front of him as he remembered.

The water face refused to bear his weight even after accepting every other orc, troll or even goblin upon it's surface. He remembered how he swam against it's current clad in soaked heavy robes, he remembered how he refused to give into the warnings and was forced under it's currents choking on the water as it filled his lungs up just to keep him away. Then he remembered how it felt when he aided the Elemental, used his magic to cleanse the stained blood that lurked within it, how it felt when his lungs were allowed to properly breath air once more and his robes dried and when even he, a Warlock, was bestowed an Elemental's blessing. It was the first step on a long path, Gashuk knew that now, the forgiveness of the Water that he once forsook for Demon's Blood, it was a testament to the Spirit's ability to forgive yet Gashuk knew they would never forget.

Finally drawing his gaze from Oshu'gun's beauty, Gashuk grunted and begun to turn away yet his steps felt heavy and fatigued him. “How could I be so stupid! How could I 'onestly believe tha' I could just walk into Oshu'gun an' be forgiven fer wha' I have done? How could I believe tha' t'Spirits within it would let me take a footstep in it's ancient halls again, let alone allow me t'bath my totem within it's gifted waters...” he began to roar, his arms rose to the skies and he howled, letting his emotions run free, he didn't even notice the earth beneath him turn soft and wet and with every further step toward Garadar, he sunk. Gashuk felt his feet get deeper and deeper in the mud, soon he was up to his knees in the Spirit Fields and the Shaman stopped his growls, tired, wading in the mud that had appeared around him.

Grunting he remained there and it wasn't long before he thought back to Mulgore and the lake beside Bloodhoof Village, how he bathed in it's waters and first begun to hear the element's mutterings once more. It took many attempts, and many swims, but it was on that lake that Gashuk proved to Thur'ruk Steelheart that the Spirits listened to him and bore his weight once more, it was where Soulfury's appreciation for water and the balance it portrays developed once more. Nights spent laying on the surface in the middle of the Lake whispering too and fro with the frolicking spirits taught Gashuk how blood co-exists within water and water within blood, they compliment each other, cleansing and mending flesh as a pair. It was within these teachings that the water gave Gashuk clarity, contentment and calmed him and as he remembered what he learnt, Gashuk begun to calm again and the mud started to release him as he turned to face the Spirit Mountain once more.

“It seems once more I am humbled by t'Spirits, Water an' Earth workin' as one t'strengthen m'resolve an' renew my spirit”, thought the old Shaman, a soft smile rising to his lips as he walked onwards. It didn't take long before he reached the base of the Spirit Mountain, Gashuk peered up it's immense height and was humbled, walking around it's circumference until he found the entrance. Stopping in his tracks one more, his ears prickled, out stretched for the voices of any Spirits that may refuse his entry but he heard none. Satisfied, he drew his sharpened Water-Totem and slashed his wrist with it's dagger point, spreading the Blood along the walls as he walked inside muttering prayer after prayer as he took each deliberate step towards where the Thur'ruk had her ritual; he remembered, up on a ridge accessed through the halls of Oshu'gun itself but too deep within them.

The words from her vision echoed in Gashuk's mind as he followed her footsteps. “Frost forged, fire made; Blood marked, red blade; Oath broke, oath sworn; It screams reborn” Suddenly a scream echoed throughout the cavern piercing Gashuk's ears forcing him to stop, the scream bore a gust of wind and all of the ever-lit lanterns were extinguished. Instinctively, Gashuk held his Water-Totem like a weapon and continued to walk on, convinced in his resolve, his new armour covered in mud.

“Thump, thump, thump.

Thump, thump, thump.”

“Drums?”, thought Gashuk, puzzled, as the rest of Rhonya's words played out in his mind as he climbed blindly up the steep incline that lead to the ritual ridge. “The hunter's moon; The war-drum's tune; Eight horns, ten chimes; Wrong place, wrong time.” “No, this is t'right place, t'right time!” roared Gashuk out into the darkness as he struggled to control the emotions evoked by the spirits within here, the drums continued to pound in his mind yet Gashuk continued to move on, his dagger outstretched, the runes streaming down it now filled with his blood still trickling from his sacrificial wound. “Cast iron, red gates; It burns, it hates; It ends and then: Begins again.” As sudden as the light went, it returned, blinding Gashuk as he fell to his knees crossing his arms along his eyes in attempt to block out the piercing light. “Begins again”, echoed through his mind, as he slowly removed his arms from his eyes and looked out.

Shimmers of orcish spirits wandered the halls within and they acknowledged Gashuk with a stern, yet forgiving gaze reminiscent of a parent. They did not say a single word, but all pointed towards the small exit that led onto the ritual ridge of Oshu'gun. Soulfury bowed deeply and continued to walk out squeezing through the gap that he was sure Thur'ruk Steelheart had an easier time getting through. Before him spread the Spirit Fields in a view that was like no other, he could see where the Kosh'harg had taken place and smiled as the water-skin remained where it was placed. Picking it up, he uncorked it and carefully begun to wash away the blood that had started to stain into the dark wood, it shimmered in the sunlight and was absorbed by the wood yet did not wash the blood away completely. Gashuk smiled, appreciating the balance between the two powerful life-liquids and took in a deep pleasurable sigh.

“It is not an easy task, returning t'Shamanism” acknowledged Gashuk, calm and collected. “But it is an even harder task to truly live t'rest o' yer life as one, it will span many moons and my passion inside will rage but peering out over Nagrand like this, it's easy t'realise, it's so worth it.”

I was just getting into that! You can't leave it there 

Booster- Gashuk - Destruction Warlock for boosts. (Full Prideful)

To be boosted - Gashúk - Elemental Shaman (Some Grievous, mostly Timeless.)

OOC: Bloodied Blades for me is a bit too over the top, I enjoy the system that Gridish uses (I believe), which is more relaxed but still incorporates, rolling, an emote order and the DM replies to your emote attempt.