Messages

916

Game Related / Re: The Going Away / AFK Thread

« on: March 27, 2015, 11:51:48 PM »

Ahoy hoy!
Good news and bad news. I finally got some decent human hours. No more double and triple shifts, with loads of of days off in between. After 3 months of that. i finally got reguar-ish 9 to 9 shifts mon to fri. So bad news is, i'll most likely only be active Saturday and Sunday from now on Wont be around this weekend though, due to irl stuff. So i shall see you all next weekend. Keep the campfire going for me 

917

Game Related / Re: The Going Away / AFK Thread

« on: March 15, 2015, 04:15:43 PM »

Sorry for your loss Ed 

918

Game Related / Re: [Fun] OotRB Lok'tweets

« on: March 06, 2015, 10:24:50 PM »

919

The Campfire / The Bridge

« on: February 20, 2015, 02:33:02 AM »

The Bridge

(( Optional dramatic mood musics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0TBY1U8Nlo My apologies for missed grammatical errors))

A Orc stood upon a bridge looking down into the swift water twenty feet below, bodies of several green Orcs hung from it. The Orc's hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a thick cord his face beaten and broken. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack fell to the level of his knees. Some supporting the metals  of the bridge supplied a footing for him and his executioners two Orcs of the Iron Horde, directed by a older Orc and an Alpha armed with the weapon of his rank. A guard at each end of the bridge stood with his rifle in the position vertical in front of the left shoulder, the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straight across the chest a well trained, formal and unnatural position. It did not appear to be the duty of these two Orcs to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge; they merely blockaded the two ends.


Beyond the guards nobody was in sight; the road ran straight away into a  dark inky forest for a hundred yards, then, curving, lost to view. Doubtless there was an iron horde outpost farther along. The other bank of the stream was  a stockade of  tightly spaced sharpened tree trunks, with room for rifles, from a single opening through could be seen the muzzle of a iron cannon. Midway of the slope between the bridge and fort were the spectators a single company of infantry in line the butts of the rifles on the ground, the barrels inclining slightly backward against the right shoulder, the hands crossed upon the stock. A Orc of rank stood at the right of the line, the business end of his axe upon the ground, his left hand resting upon his right which rested upon the hilt of his weapon. Not a Orc moved. The warband faced the bridge, staring like stone, emotionless. The guards, facing the banks of the stream, might have been statues to adorn the bridge. The Alpha stood with folded arms, silent, observing the work of his subordinates, but making no sign.


The Orc who was being hanged was  about thirty years of age. He was  dressed in a tattered and torn red robe, the look of a of scholar. His features were  average a straight nose now broken, firm mouth now bloodied, face now swollen , his balding dark hair was combed straight back, falling behind his ears to the collar of his formally well tailored robe now in tatters. He had a pointed beard; his eyes were large and dark red, and had a kindly expression. Evidently this was no warrior.
The preparations being complete. The older Orc turned to the Alpha, saluted and placed himself immediately behind him, who then moved forward. The robed orc was prodded to the edge of the bridge with the Alphas axe hilt His face had not been covered nor his eyes bandaged. He looked a moment around him, then let his gaze wander to the swirling water of the stream racing  beneath his feet.


He closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his home and tribe. The water, turned  to a purplish blue by the midnight sky, the brooding mists under the banks at some distance down the stream, the fort, the soldiers all had distracted him. And now he became conscious of a something new. Striking through the thought of his tribe was a sound which he could neither ignore nor understand, a sharp, distinct, metallic percussion like the stroke of a blacksmith's hammer upon an anvil; it had the same ringing quality. He wondered what it was, and whether immeasurably distant or near by it felt like both. Its was regular, as if the tolling of  death itself. He awaited each stroke with impatience and he knew not why. The intervals of silence grew progressively longer, the delays became maddening. With their greater infrequency the sounds increased in strength and pitch. They hurt his ears like the thrust of a dagger; he feared he would scream. What he heard was the ticking of his pocketwatch....

He opened his eyes and saw again the water below him. If I could free myself," he thought, I might throw off the noose and dive into the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming, with luck reach the bank, take to the woods and get away. The tribe by now are away far this place.... Free, safe to fight again another day.

As these thoughts, were flashed into the red robed Orc's brain the Alpha nodded to the Older Orc. The Older orc stepped forward giving a single nudge.


The robed Orc fell straight downward through the bridge a blur colour, he lost consciousness from this state he was awakened what felt like only a moment later. Agony shot from his neck  through every inch of his body, his eyes and limbs. They seemed on fire burning him. He was conscious of nothing but a feeling of life  near the edge of death. Then all at once, with terrible suddenness, the light about him shot upward with the noise of a loud splash; a roar all he could hear, and all was cold and all was dark. He knew that the rope had broken and he had fallen into the stream. He opened his eyes in the darkness and saw above him a gleam of dark hazy purple light, but  it was fading. He was  sinking, the light became fainter and fainter. Then it began to grow and he knew that he was rising toward the surface. To be hanged and drowned," he thought? "that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be shot. No i refuse to be not today not now to fel with it."

A sharp pain in his wrist saw that he was instinctively  trying to free his hands. He gave the struggle all his strength. The bindings fell away; his arms parted, the hands dimly seen on each side in the light. He watched them  briefly  then the other pounced upon the noose at his neck. Tearing it off in a single motion. His neck ached horribly; his brain was on fire; his heart, which had been fluttering faintly, gave a great leap, trying to force itself out at his mouth. His whole body was fire.  His hands beat the water vigorously with quick, downward strokes, forcing him to the surface. He felt his head emerge; his eyes were blinded by the light; his lungs engulfed a great gulp of air, which instantly he expelled in what could only be described by himself as the loudest roar he had ever given. expelling  a cascade of water skyward as he broke the surface.


He was now in fully aware. he was keen and alert.  He felt the ripples upon his face and heard their separate sounds as they struck. He looked at the forest on the bank of the stream, saw the individual trees, the leaves saw the very insects upon them: He noted the prismatic colors in all upon a million blades of purple blue grass.
He had come to the surface facing down the stream; in a moment the visible world seemed to wheel slowly round and he saw the bridge, the fort, the soldiers upon the bridge, the older Orc, the alpha, the two guards.... his executioners. They were in silhouette against the purple blue sky. They shouted pointing at him. The Alpha had grabbed a rifle, and fired ; the others were joining him in a panic.

The bullets struck the water within a few inches of his head, spattering his face with spray. The Orc in the water saw the eye of the alpha on the bridge gazing through the scope of the rifle.
The red robed Orc turned round; he was again looking into the forest on the bank opposite the fort. The Alpha roaring behind

"ORCS ! . . Shoulder arms! . . . Ready! . . . Aim! . . . Fire, FIRE, FIRE !"

The red robed Orc dived as deep as he could. The water roared in his ears, yet he heard the dulled thunder of the volley and, rising again toward the surface.
As he rose to the surface, gasping for breath, he saw that he was farther down stream nearer to safety.  The iron horde fired again, independently and ineffectually in a maddened frenzy.
The red robed Orc saw all this over his shoulder; he was now swimming with all his might
The alpha," he thought, "will not make that  error a second time. It is as easy to dodge a volley as a single shot.  but he has probably already given the command to fire at will. Grom give me haste, I cannot dodge them all"

An appalling splash within two yards of him was followed by a loud, rushing sound, which seemed to travel back through the air to the fort and died in an explosion which stirred the very river to its core.
A rising sheet of water engulfed him. The cannon had joined the hunt.
In a few moments he was flung upon the gravel at the foot of the left bank of the stream. He dug his fingers and feet into the sand. he began to sprint.
A whiz and rattle of gun shot around the branches by his head he sprinted deeper and deeper into the forest, galloping nearly to the point of losing balance though the branches and under growth them whipping and tearing and his face and body.


All that day he traveled, wandered lost. The forest seemed like no other; nowhere did he discover a break in it, not even a single dirt track. There was something odd in this half realized revelation.

By midnight he was near done, but the thought of home and tribe urged him on. At last he found a small  dirt road which led him in what he only hoped to be the right direction. The black, blue bodies of the trees formed a  oddly straight wall on both sides of the path, Overhead, as he looked up, shone stars looking unfamiliar and grouped in strange constellations. He was sure they were arranged in some order which had a secret and evil significance. The woods on either side was full of singular noises, he distinctly heard whispers in an unknown language.. he continued on and on streams of trees and path rushed past his vision as if time itself had abandoned all reason.
He finally came to a clearing...He saw his tribe? He was in Garadar? Home!  Warm smiles greeted him roars of joy The red robed orc stumbled up from knees looking up to greet them.. Mok'......

A blinding white light blazes all about him with a sound like the shock of thunder then all is darkness...

Arkail Blastblade was dead; his body, with a broken neck,  swung gently from side to side beneath the bridge in time with the others.....

Arkail shot up out of his sleeping furs sweating, shaking and in shock, looking about grasping at his bedding.

"What was that!?! What in fels name was that?!" he roared to himself, to anyone to anything.

All was quiet outside all was dark.

Arkail sat quietly in the gloom of his tent.

920

Off Topic / Re: Funny stuff

« on: February 16, 2015, 03:59:56 PM »

Arkail's flirting skills normally are so subtle most are unaware that he is even talking to them but every now and then..

 

921

Off Topic / Re: Funny stuff

« on: January 16, 2015, 02:10:13 AM »

Only Orc Mages know the deep great feel when you pop mirror image and bloodfury.

922

The Campfire / Re: Resolve

« on: November 30, 2014, 02:41:42 PM »

Resolve Part two

It was near dawn, Arkail dropped to his knees breathing heavily. He couldn't continue anymore. They had been moving for hours.  His mouth was dry his throat felt as it was about to crack. A hand fell upon his shoulder, it was Vrakk's he hadnt said a word since they set out, nothing but hand gestures for him to stay still, get down, move forward. Arkail looked up at Vrakk with a sly grin.

Vrakk's face was still, no emotion. "nearly there" he said

 "Here" he handed Arkail a waterskin as he glanced about scanning the area. "The jungle starts to thin out see the mountians another hour or two."

Arkail drank from the waterskin wiping his mouth nodding in agreement.
"Rest over" they will be on us till we reach the safety of Frostfir...
Vrakk's eyes widened as he looked down  at his chest several darts dotted his chest and he began to foam at the mouth.
Arkail caught him as he fell, but he was dead. Arkail instinctively ducked his head as a volley of darts sung as they flew over him.  Arkail looked back down to Vrakk, he was gone. Gathering all the energy he could Arkail set out in frantic sprint towards the mountains, out of panic he spoke into the link, a rarity for him as he never understood how it worked, but was greeted with only ominous slience.

For near a hour he ran till he collapsed.
Stumbling then skidding in the mud. Why was he running? He was alone in a unknown world. He slowly got to his feet using his sword as a crutch to get up. Wiping the mud from his face, he felt the cold wind behind him glancing over his shoulder he saw the mountain path, he turned his face back and let out a deep breath. He removed the mud from his blade in a single swinging motion and held it ready in front of him in one hand, the other making circular gestures in the air his mouth muttering arcane words, with his foot he scratched a odd symbols in the dirt, the bushes in front of him began to rustle. And arkail let out a long deep roar. He'd die on his feet.

FOR THE BLOOD OF THE TRIBE !

Two iron clad Orcs sprung from the bushes. Instantly attacking, Arkail managed somehow to parry a blow with his sword connecting at point blank range a bolt of energy into the first Orc's neck blowing a hole near clean though it. The Orc went down gurgling and gasping for air. Arkail was quick enough nor skilled enough to block the second Orcs attack the axe burying deep into his  spell arm.. Arkail let out  pained roar his sword hand glowing fiercely. In riposte Arkail lunged a strike at the Orc, a blow the Orc defended but to the orcs surprise the Arcane gathering in Arkails blade shattered his axe. Dumbfounded its mouth hung open. To which Arkail answered with a horizontal slash across his jaw, killing the Orc.

Arkail fell backwards exhausted. I really got let Devilstep teach me how to use thing.  Arkail began to laugh to himself loudly. Arkail looked down at his arm it would need treatment and he had no first aid supplies with anymore, shedding his pack at a attempt to run faster and lighter. he could barely lift his arm, yet he could wiggle his fingers. A good sign.

He craned his head back and looked at the mountain path.. only a little further. His only chance now was to find the Frostwolves. Slowly but surely Arkail got his feet and began up the mountain pass.

923

The Campfire / Resolve

« on: November 29, 2014, 02:38:53 AM »

Optional mood music

Resolve

"Breathe in, breathe out. Calm yourself let your heartbeat settle, even if the world around you is burning. Feel the ley line energy you've tapped into, control it, move with it, don't let it control you."

Arkail muttered this under his breath, over and over. His jaw still aching, still healing from his last encounter with this "Iron Horde" He stood ready in front of the portal with his tribe, his friends and the rest of the banners.
 
It wasn't fear that gripped him like he thought it would. He was feeling... ready? A feeling which confused him. The night before had been sleepless. He had experienced this many times before. During the rebellion and multiple other skirmishes, but now standing here he was just... ready come what may.

He had returned just in time for the assault on the portal. Many had been given time to say goodbye to family, mates, lovers, children.
 
Arkail had none of these, he instead returned to the Undercity it was to be only the briefest of visits, but if anywhere on Azeroth he considered home besides being with his tribe, it was there.

He walked the dank darkened streets, he remembered leaving here once. A life time ago it felt now, full of arrogant, naive bluster, for his book on Orcish tribes and stories. To seek out the Red blade last to be cataloged and recorded in his book. He never did publish it... shame he thought to himself. Would have been nice to leave something of mine behind, the manuscript had been destroyed in the rebellion in the siege of Zoram gar.  Using his life's work as a cudgel to defend a fellow rebel's life from Kor'kron axes. A worthwhile trade. One that he paid gladly.

But now he stood facing his own personal apocalypse. The dark portal loomed over them, the war cries ringing out. His name, his exploits would be unremembered, even if they succeeded in destroying the portal and all the hopes that it would entail come true, It did not matter. He would play his part, he, Arkail Blastblade the scribe, did not matter. He was Red Blade first, everything else was second. He was ready.

He finished his mantra, never was very good at arcane anyways, never really mastered it. For him it was part science, part instinct, he never did finish his Gul'thuak training, find time for a mate, children and all that entailed no matter he thought with a wry if sad smile.

The cry went out and they charged, Arkail roared his voice joining with the others. He drew his blade the soft glow humming gently and charged with tribe...

Chaos ensued
He was still alive once he reached the portal somehow he had cut his way though. He stepped though to be met with a sight that took his breath away, a near endless sea of uncorrupted orcs stood before him, explosions peppered the ground  and sky around arkail, but he ran forward the world behind him for all he cared no longer existed. Allies and enemies fell around him. Arkail moved only forward striking down several in his path, he laughed as he ran mad wild uncontrolled laughter. A whistling noise barreled down upon him He looked up to see a cannon ball of fire and metal hurtling towards him. Arkail took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A deafening blast shook him from all notion of reality and time, he felt as it he was both falling and ascending all at once.

Arkail hit the ground the hard rolling as he did.


**Hours pass**


 Arkail opened his eyes, he was staring at a unknown yet familiar sky. A sky he had heard tales of as a cub, a tale he had pestered the adults for repeatedly. He always felt even as a cub there was power in tales. That's all history ever was anyway: The best tales. And those are worth remembering.

In a daze he got up and wandered forward, looking back he stared at a broken portal in the distance and wondered if it was important, He was dead wasn't he, he felt sure of it. A portal was important but for what?

To close!  All at once his mind racing to catch up with him. What, where was he? Arkail spun around he was in a dense jungle frantically. He was alive and barring a few minor cuts and several painful welts, burns and bruises he was still amongst the living.
But now what ? Where were the others, he alone couldn't be the only survivor? It was then a arrow twanged into a tree infront of him, Arkail stood motionless blinking at it like a Gnoll that had been asked to figure out the square root of a prime number. It wasn't until several other of the previous arrow compatriots flew towards him that Arkail sprang into a full speed gallop, Arkail ran as fast his legs could carry him over and below roots and vines he leapt. The arrows bouncing off the rocks and underbrush around him. His breathing growing harder it would soon be over.

Till a single outstretched brown skinned arm thick with muscle reached out and dragged him into the darkness in a single swift motion. Arkail went to scream but found the single arm had a fellow equally muscle bound arm to silence his mouth, muffling his scream. A thunder of footsteps and commotion fled past Arkail's eyes. A moment passed and he found himself freed, if only now weaponless, All Arkail could see was the arms in the darkness it was inspecting his blade.

Stranger! The darkness ridden arms said. State your name, you came though the portal, Yes? you blew it up ? You breathe loudly stop it...
That was a lot of questions to get in a short space of time. I am Arkail Blastblade of the Red Blade, i did come though the portal and i am glad it is closed, I apologies for the breathing Undercity living takes its toil and all ...

"Hmmpt" was the only reply, What manner of blessing is upon your blade its glows and sings.

That's a magic infused into the steel when i passed my Om'riggor i...

"Om'riggor huh you strangers practise that...odd"

Arkail swallowed hard and straightened in muddy and tattered robe. "Might i ask who you are, may i thank my rescuer properly where am i ? Where is my tribe what happens now and i would like my blade....if i may ask also."

"You talk oddly" the shadowed arms replied.

"I am Vrakk of the frostwolves a scout you're in Gorgrond, near Tanaan, still. A dangerous place for a noisy child to be

" The figure loomed from the dark inspecting Arkail. He was no older than he yet his eyes showed an almost animal quality. He inspected the blade briefly before tossing it to Arkail. You're safe for now, but i'd advise traveling with me back to Frostfire, Several of my tribe were sent to scout the portal, now there is no more portal My chieftain will need to be informed, Come Arkail of the red blade you travel with me for now...

And so they set out.

924

Game Related / Re: Garn Nighthowler

« on: November 26, 2014, 01:39:06 AM »

Got it, named him Mister Wulfles von Bitestein.

925

Game Related / Re: Selfies!

« on: November 22, 2014, 11:51:24 AM »

My troll warlock is not very happy, his trainer however...

926

Off Topic / Re: Now playing and a bottle of pills...

« on: November 14, 2014, 06:22:42 PM »

Yey for musics, nice selection. With a new dragon age around the corner, i am revisiting it and its beautiful musics. The music being the best thing about DA2 .... shots fired *flees*

Dragon Age 2: Mage Pride
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nxUrz7ZLCp8

 

927

Game Related / Re: Will people please get a grip

« on: October 31, 2014, 03:28:13 PM »

There's a time and place for everything a well placed curse can add passion. Stephen Fry says it best.

Also odd laws
In Ireland up until 1984 suicide was a crime punishable by hanging.(/facepalm)  And up until 2006 it was illegal for trinity college students not to carry a sword


 .

928

Game Related / Re: The Going Away / AFK Thread

« on: October 12, 2014, 02:25:53 PM »

Ahoy hoy, I have been called away for a few days unexpectedly will be back Thursday hopefully. 

929

Off Topic / Re: Funny stuff

« on: August 15, 2014, 12:36:06 PM »

Glorious. 

930

Game Related / Re: The Going Away / AFK Thread

« on: July 11, 2014, 06:27:05 PM »

Hello my lovelies!  I had previously decided that i'd be back playing by now and only ever annouced my afk'ness though shoutbox, but i think i'll have to have an extended break and come back to WoW at the pre WoD patch.I do really miss the rp about the campfire :/

Hope all is well see ya soon!

You stay classy Orcs.