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Added, though it sounds more like a personal/individual item rather than a clan wide one 

I suppose you have some secret purpose for it in the untold future...

[In particular i'd love any history or background on the staff of the shaman king and its history/current whereabouts!]

First sweep of items posted! details to be filled in for many!

Should give folks an idea of what i'm going for.

In particular i'd love any history or background on the staff of the shaman king and its history/current whereabouts!

[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!

[Soldier: Chapter 24 - Jadefire]

Soldier: Chapter 24 - Jadefire

”What defines us is not how hard we hit, but how we get back up again.”

Two years ago.

The bells rang. They rang low, and loud. They rang slow and fast. They rang with panic, and terror. They rang.

The roof exploded, giant arms of burning green stone thrusting upward made the tiles and beams fly in all directions. The Infernal roared, before stomping forward to knock down the front wall of the day school. Had Fhu not thought so quickly, the younglings and their teacher would still have been inside when it crashed to earth.

”Faster, Faster everyone’a! To the main’a gate!” Fhu shepherded the youngling Pandaren as best he could up the road, their teacher guiding them as she went with the other elders. Fhu and Okiba guarded the rear, guiding the lost and wounded into the winding throng of shocked people.

This was a safe place… Have the Legion truly returned?

The air was thick with smoke from burning buildings, rank from the stench of brimstone created by the falling Fel Golems. Infernals trotted too and throw, smashing apart anything they came into contact with. But the air also hung heavy with foul energies as the sky blackened.

”Go! Go!” Called the Orc, spotting the main gate up ahead, they would soon be safe. It had not yet fallen, Pandaren ran through the grand arch from all directions within the temple, desperate for the safety of the forest beyond.

”Where is’a uncle!? Okiba friend! Without’a the warriors and militia they will’a pursue us!” Yelled Fhu before being drowned out by the noise of a crashing spire. A fel green meteor smashing through its solid stone construction caused the tower to collapse with an earth shaking smash. Plumes of smoke and clouds of dust filled the inner courtyard around the gate; all was obscured as everyone fumbled to find each other, screaming the names of loved ones.

We have to hold the gate…

Lowering his hand from shielding his eyes, the decision was as good as obvious. The two monks would have to hold this exit out of the temple long enough for help to arrive, or for as many to escape as possible.

”Fhu!... we have to hold here. There is no other way.” yelled the Orc, his face grim but certain. Fhu grunted in ascent, gritting tooth and fang in a moment of thought as an aura of almost dark understanding washed over him. He knew the likely outcome too.

No sooner had they prepared themselves and the line of escapees began to thin, did the sound of heavy marching feet begin to stomp their way along the paths inside the temple. Metallic, lumbering, filled with malefic purpose. Felguards by the dozen began to steadily pour out from behind burning buildings, along twisting roads and from the gates of the central temple. Axes, spears, halberds and hammers were held in their massive hands. The Infernals promised shock and awe, now the legions soldiers came forth from some unseen portal to finish their dark and bloody task.

This will be a good death. Worthy for me to meet my brothers, at last.

He swallowed, dragging a dry tongue across his broken tusk. Gripping his spear firmly in hand he lowered himself into a ready stance, mirroring Fhu. The Pandaren was a master of the serpent style and all its fluid movements, holding his left hand out almost welcoming his enemy while he held his staff in his right. The famed kypari wood stave would block and deflect even the most deadly demon weapon.

The demons spanned before them, almost too many to rush them all at once. The gate was a funnel, a trapping point that would defend them from sheer numbers, at least for a moment, two or hopefully more. With the backdrop of the burning temple behind them, they paused, ominous shadows in a world they were hell bent to bring to absolute ruin.

The bells stopped, and fire roared.

The first felguard came for Okiba, swinging a brutal axe down at him. The Orc leapt aside then lunged, spearing the demons throat while the force of the axe made the earth underfoot tremble. As the demon tumbled, choking on blood, the second came into view, swinging in a wide arc at Fhu with a great halberd. The Pandaren monk ducked swiftly, and then planted the top of his staff under the demons groin, only to flip him up and over his shoulder with a fluid dexterity that was impossible to believe.

As the third and fourth monstrosity struck, they too were quickly dispatched or turned about on their heads. Then came five and six, followed by the belief that they could hold them off. They could hold the gate long enough for the people to make good their escape. Weapons deflected, fists broke bone, feet and spinning kicks swept the demons legs out from under them. The shadows of the burning temple danced everywhere, two serpents weaving among chaos.

Just a little longerâ€"

The hammer struck his upper right arm. It had to be a hammer, axes and swords don’t leave limbs attached. The blunt force sent him flying through the air, his back striking one of the giant gate doors with a crack and a thud as he collided then slumped to the ground. The pain shot up his arm like lightning, broken without a doubt. The force of hitting the solid wood door sent his mind and world spinning. Shadows, spectres snaked across his vision.

You have to get upâ€"help him.

He extended his left arm, dragging himself desperately forward toward his spear, listening all the while to the steady, desperate clash of demonic weapons upon the staff of a lone monk.

”Okiba friend! Get’a up!” echoed Fhu’s voice in his mind. Okiba struggled to focus, his blurred eyes settling on the image of a spinning, swirling, flowing Fhu deflecting, re-directing and evading three Felguard alone. Where one struck, he moved, where another turned, he struck, and where the third cleaved, he guided the foes weapon to the neck of its fel corrupted ally. Fhu was the embodiment of a monk, the jade serpent made mortal. He could hold them just long enoughâ€"

A shadow loomed over the Pandaren, a spike; a spear skewered into his back and out his front. Fhu gasped in shock, the Redstaff dropped from his hand and rattled on the cobbled road. A felguard had snuck up on him as he fought off and defeated three others, plunging his cowardly weapon through the Pandaren in a swift, cowardly attack.

”Fhu--!” Cried the Orc, watching his friend slide off the edge of the spear, collapsing to the ground in a defeated heap. The bears arms shivered, he was alive, confirmed with a blood chortling cough. But the demon raised his spear with a malefic snarl, poised to spear the head of the monk as a final killing blow. Okiba was powerless to stop it; he was broken, too far away and unable to move.

No--!

Thud. The impact of a weapon struck the demon square in the chest, carrying it with such force as to lift it from its feet and many yards back, nailing it to the other door of the grand gate. A spear, striking like a ballista bolt had saved Fhu, striking such a deadly and forceful blow as to kill the demon instantly. Okiba turned his pained head to find the visage of Jihaan stood in the gate, armoured in all his glory. The warrior had spared his nephew by throwing his spear so hard it was akin to a siege weapon. Behind him stood dozens--… no hundreds of his Pandaren kin, Shado-pan, Villagers, farmers, Huojin and Tushui. Their faces filled with grim determination. Armed with everything from swords to pitchforks, they had come to take back their beloved temple. Jihaan lifted his war sword.

”For Pandaria!” he let loose the rallying cry, followed by an echoed cheer as the people of Pandaria rushed into the temple grounds to take on the demon invaders.

Okiba had only one thought now, extending his good arm to drag himself forward across the blood slicked cobbles once more.

Get to your friend!

Beautiful pictures!

I cant praise the above artists enough!

Friday, 17th day of Akal,

The hunt has been intense, the thieves even abandoned the stolen bell in order to make haste and slow us down. While bystanders handed the item to the people of stoneplow to send back to Half-hill.

Myself, Jihaan and Inspector Pong continued the hunt, ranging far and wide across the western valley over the last week. The thief, when finally cornered in a ravine separating the valley from western Krasarang, turned out to be a Darkspear Troll. His behavior was most peculiar. Acting almost obedient to some unseen set of strings, he attacked us brutally using the monk arts, but myself and Jihaan managed to pin him down...

...Then his eyes and ears bled torrents of crimson while he screamed and soon enough he died, without a strike even touching him. A bizarre occurrence. Whomever was commanding him may have 'booby-trapped' him in some fashion, or perhaps a suicide like the human poison pills? It was unsettling, conjuring up images in y mind of the wrath-gate. I quickly had to hide my shaking hand from the others before we proceeded.

The path ahead is unclear. However, the Troll was headed for notorious smugglers path into the south and it is into the jungle wilds we now head. Perhaps at the temple of the Red crane we may find answers.

[Soldier: Chapter 23 - Wisdom]

Soldier: Chapter 23 - Wisdom

”Some of the best lessons are learnt through terrible, bitter experience.”

Two years ago.

The pages parted cleanly, with barely a rustle or complaint. Pristine parchment was revealed, covered in hundreds of finely drawn glyphs, letters and symbols. Okiba inhaled, breathing in the scent of a thousand inks on finely pressed paper. It was wonderful, calming, serene even.

So this is why those wizards are always in their books.

”-oh! Try’a this one, and’a this one too!” Fhu placed another two thick, leather bound books next to the Orc, patting them almost affectionately before he seated himself by his own stack of reading material.

He had to admit, he was becoming attached to this place. The libraries of the temple were beyond measure, testament to the wisdom of the jade serpent and in particular to her followers. Every kind of book, scroll, tome, and near forgotten editions lined the shelves and corridors of the library. But to truly enjoy a book, you needed the harmony of the great outdoors. And that is where they sat, under the roof of a pagoda in the temple gardens, listening to the chirp and splash of life within the nearby pond. All the while the daily activities of the temple took place, ranging from mass lectures to schools for the young cubs, and monks training in the serpent style to a hospital for the sick or hurt.

Wisdom put into practice for all to benefit.

They had been peacefully whiling away the days here, reading and contemplating, discussing then reading some more. Jihaan did not join them, though he was in the temple, busy taking lessons on engineering and building of all things to further his war-dancer training. A strange addition to a warrior’s arsenal of knowledge, but then again the Pandaren did almost everything differently, and to great effect.

He skimmed the lines of words running down the first page of the book. The symbols coalesced into words and sentences, giving meaning and context to a stream of short story’s and tales. Wiley Brewmasters outwitting sinister Saurok, valiant monks overcoming slavery and breaking the chains of brutal Mogu, then lastly of an emperor that embraced the land itself only to give it all he was to protect it.

A frog croaked in the pond nearby before being snatched up by an opportunistic crane.

“Hmmm’a… you are’a enjoying your books Okiba friend?” enquired Fhu, lowering a scroll, flashing a smile.
”Hra! Of course, I know teaching me to read your tongue was a chore but now I can, I cannot stop!” declared the Orc.

And it’s true, every book read is understanding gained.

”Ha-ha! This is’a good, yes. But! Considering’a where we are...”

Okiba furrowed his brow, feeling a brain twisting question on the horizon.

”…What is’a the truest form of wisdom do you’a feel?” asked the bear, smiling knowingly but with a wry tone.

”Ghm… well, the temple elders teach us first, that wisdom, knowledge and intellect are not the same. Indeed, they are very different.” the Orc began, squinting with the effort of recollection and thought. Fhu beamed, as a trapper would when watching the prey walk straight into his well set ambush.

”…Wisdom is… experience? What we carry with us after we learn through action and deeds, through surviving. It’s what we pass on and heed from others.” He added, wearily now, Fhu nodding with eagerness for him to continue.

”…but no one individual can learn of or experience everything. Hra! It’s impossible, in our lives we can only learn so very little compared to, well, all of it…” Okiba fumbled with it now, but he knew the end mantra. It was just a matter of making sense of it. He’d at least heard that during one of the lectures.

”Go on’a my friend?” Fhu pressed, beaming from ear to ear as his green eyes glinted.

”So the truest wisdom, is knowing that you… well, know nothing.” He finished, half committed to his assumption but also sounding half not.

”Ha-ha! Very’a good my friend. Yes, that is’a correct. For example…” Fhu nodded in a pleased fashion, before looking over the shoulder of the Orc.

”I admit I have’a no idea what’a that is!” He finished, raising his hand to point a claw at the sky to the east, beyond the towers of the temple. Okiba turned his head, narrowing his eyes. It was hard to make out, a small moving shape in the background of a vast dusk sky. The shades of blue turning to night half masked it, but it was without a doubt moving. Growing larger.

What in the name of fel is thaâ€"

Realization hit him almost as quickly as his eyes noted the colour. Green, jade and burning vermilion. It grew a tail as it streaked down toward the ground in the direction of the temple walls. Then another appeared, and another. Within moments the sky was filled with balls of green flame streaking toward them and the lands all around.

”Fhu, my friend, that is hell, and terror… ring the alarm bells.”

[Soldier: Chapter 22 - Sparring]

Soldier: Chapter 22 - Sparring

”It is nothing to defeat others. True strength is overcoming yourself.”

Three years ago.

”Now, just’a remember that’a movement is’a life. So! Keep’a moving.” Fhu nodded sagely with a smile, giving Okiba a firm and reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning him to face his opponent.

Breathe.

His left hand twitched uncontrollably, nearly forcing him to lose his grip on his spear. But he knew he had nothing to fear, no memory to be held back by in this moment. This was nothing to do with the past, this was preparing for the future, moving forward step by step and day by day.

Just breathe.

These were lessons he’d taken to heart early on in his monk training. Don’t sit still, and keep breathing. It never ceased to amaze or even hinder when the danger of a lack of air for the body made limbs heavy or reflexes slow.

”Hmmâ€"I will not’a be going easy on’a you this time, Halftusk. Prepare’a yourself!” Jihaan bellowed, affixing his helmet and hefting his deadly war-blade. The brutal weapon sang as it cut the air, even from some a harmless gesture as being lifted.

”This won’t be a repeat of our first meeting, Uncle!” He replied, lifting his spear. The solid wood shaft was topped with a ghost-steel blade, perfect for thrusting and cutting. And what it may have lost in weight and length, it made up for by double as a point long-staff. Jihaan grinned underneath his helmet as he began to circle. So Okiba circled in turn.

Calm and steady

Placing one foot in front of the other as he mirrored his sparring partner, he had to force himself not to admire his surroundings. They were atop a rocky mesa in the north of the Jade forest; to look down from its edges you would see the canopies of jade capped trees and the pinnacles of vibrant bamboo. Looking outward you could see the entire region for miles, the winding networks of finely paved roads, the monasteries and villages, even the temple of the jade serpent stood tall and eye catching in the east. Though up here it was no less of a sight, standing upon a paved terrace surrounded by statues of the august Celestials. A place of quiet reflection, and stoic practice for all. Fhu sat upon a stone platform beside a great bronze hanging bell as he watched both Jihaan and the Orc circle ever on.

Make the first move.

He took the initiative, lunging at right angles to break the rounding motion. His legs thundered with speed but made light, rapid steps. As the distance closed, Jihaan rounded, lowering then raising his sword to his right in order to form a deflective parry. It met perfectly

He anticipated!

Before he had even decided to raise his spear at that angle, Jihaan had predicted his moves perfectly by being one step ahead. Okiba had swung his spear wide, moving from his right, across Jihaan and to his own left only to be batted aside by the great blade of the Pandaren. As he strafed past the warrior on his right, he knew instantly what would follow.

Anticipate!

He leapt, and used the momentum of the parry to spin to his left, raising his spear shaft to a horizontal position. No sooner than he landed did he feel the brutal power of the sword strike the spear, but he had blocked it with room to spare.

”Haha! Well’a done! Now’a follow it up!” Cheered Fhu, applauding.

He didn’t follow it up. Jihaan did though, the lightning steel blade reversing and cutting downward with an air splitting screech. The temptation was to raise the spear to block with the shaft, but he knew better now than to hope it would stop that weighted razor edge. Instead he side stepped to his right leaving Jihaan on his left, steel passing him and striking the stony cobbles underfoot.

”Ghrm’a!!” Jihaan growled, but reflex and training had overtaken the Orcs movement. He flowed with instinct, jabbing his left arm out to apply a full spread of five knuckles under the bears armour, striking at his left armpit. The blood vessels and nerves within made for an excellent target, even under all that mail.

Thralls balls that mail is solid…

His knuckles panged, the solid material had blooded his hand but he would not give up. He’d learnt from hard experience not to go the areas covered by solid plates, but mail still left a sting.

Jihaan groaned, temporarily unable to haul his blade in the direction he intended, he settled for shifting his weight so he could turn on his feet and ram his right shoulder plate into the Orc. The blow was firm and powerful, backed by muscle and tempered experience. Landing on Okiba’s chest, it pushed rather than struck, sending him sliding backward across the stones and down onto one knee where he stopped.

Keep you feet, centre your balance.

”Ha-ha! Very’a good uncle, too’a experienced to let little things’a hamper you!” Fhu exclaimed, clapping his hands. Sat cross legged upon his small pedestal he was watching the clash with great enthusiasm. No doubt because his student was finally holding his own against his mothers brother.

Gritting his fangs, his broken tusk brushing his lip, Okiba couldn’t’ help but smile. Jihaan smiled back from within his helmet, and then they rushed each other. The Orc rising, swinging his spear upward while the Pandaren bounded and leapt, aiming to cleave his blade in a swinging arc around and down toward Okiba. The force of sword and spear-head meeting was enough to bring them both back down to their feet. Heartbeat racing, the two weapons blurred, meeting again and again in swirling flurries, spinning parries and dextrous blocks. The cobbled ground was their battle-ground, and neither side wished to surrender the war as their deadly dance advanced back then forth, left and right. Fist became involved, and elbows. Okiba even had opportunity to use his legs here and there to push the warrior back or strike a blow.

Is this how these Pandaren monks always feel?

”When do you stop going easy on me Uncle!?” he called, a wild grin of enjoyment on his tusked features.
”Hra! So’a, the Orc has’a little talent! We shall see how’a long you can’a keep it up!!” Jihaan retorted, guarding himself from a leg sweep launched by the Orc using the base of his spear-shaft by leaping up and sideways. He was resoundingly agile, even in all that heavy armour.

Time lost meaning, it could have been an hour or seconds, sweat pouring from the brows of both. Effort had its demands, and Okiba felt the terrible ache of battle weariness in his limbs, from exertion and the bone rattling strain of colliding with his sparring partner. In a desperate lunge to finish, both met halfway, launching their right fist at their foes jaw, simultaneously exposing themselves to the others terrible blow. With a combined thud, both were left shaken, and landed promptly on the cobbles with their behinds to a resounding double thud.

Ouchâ€"

A bell rang, twince, low and long. Fhu stood holding a wooden ladle in his hand having rung it firmly to sound the bouts end.

”Very’a good! You have come’a long way my friend Okiba! A superb’a match!”

Okiba turned to face his foe as both rose to their knees, instinctively linking arms and aiding each other to their feet. Clapping each other on the shoulder, they stepped back and lightly bowed.

”Indeed’a! a long way you have’a come. I am glad I did’a not cleave you in two in’a the mountains! Haha!” Chuckled Jihaan with a smile, his eyes glinted with approval well earned.

The Orc was relieved, pleased, and ecstatic. The way of the monk had been so strange and mysterious, yet now it felt almost natural to him.

But there is always further to go.

And then he realized, his hand had stopped shaking.

Sunday, 10th day of the fifth month,

I thought the peace and revelry of halfhill would keep me content these past days, with all the food, ale and good company I could want. But I had not counted on the nightmares again...

I was in Icecrown, my body rooted to the spot. Feet trapped in ice as clouds of green and black death erupted all around. Shadows moved in the colored mist, screaming, writhing in terror stricken agony. And I could do nothing, again.

Jihaan woke me, it was late. He asked why I was shaking, I tlod him it was the warm air. I think he doubted my answer and doubts I have moved past my time in the army. Though that is not why he woke me.

Another robbery had occurred, this time a famous bell, struck to herald the start of the farming season as well as it's harvesting end. Grand and bronze, it would also be used to herald the local tournaments and competitions. It was precious to the town, and taken from their mayors abode.

We have ridden west in pursuit of the thieves, Jihaan presses us hard now at a pace while Inspector Pong quizzes any and all for sightings of the strange multi-race group we seek.

We're catching up. And soon we will confront them.

Sunday, 5th day of the fifth month,

Jihaan, myself and the eccentric Inspector Pong have set out on our journey to find the family heirlooms and put an end to these widespread thefts. Jihaan is all but recovered, if a little slow in his movement. He has made a near full recovery, though I suspect losing his armor and weapons to those thieves has stung him deeper than any knife. Afterall, few can claim to have worked the lightning forge. He wears a set of simple chain mail and carries a war-hammer for now.

Ou first destination will be Halfhill in the valley of four winds. Apparently there has been a theft there also, Hopefully we can pick up the trail of these thieves.

Pong is unusual but an excellent companion. While camped by the bridge between the Jade forest and Valley for the night, a pair of Tushui (A Pandaren and a Human) passed us by on some alliance business. Though the war is not 'ongoing' here, they were quick and eager to make conflict with Jihaan for displaying his Huojin colors. Despite Pongs protests, they insisted on attempting to cause violence.

So the inspector whipped them senseless with his hand fan.

It's rare to see a crane style master, especially these days, but he soundly left them twitching violently, but ultimately unharmed, in the dirt. I can only pray that such occurrences don't worsen, and the war stays firmly away from these shores.

My absence from the clan continues to make my heart weary, but an Orcs word is his bond and I must see this through. Thankfully I am in fine company, even if a little 'home' sick.

Hopefully I can get some steaks in Halfhill market.

Sunday, 5th day of the fifth month,

Jihaan, myself and the eccentric Inspector Pong have set out on our journey to find the family heirlooms and put an end to these widespread thefts. Jihaan is all but recovered, if a little slow in his movement. He has made a near full recovery, though I suspect losing his armor and weapons to those thieves has stung him deeper than any knife. Afterall, few can claim to have worked the lightning forge. He wears a set of simple chain mail and carries a war-hammer for now.

Ou first destination will be Halfhill in the valley of four winds. Apparently there has been a theft there also, Hopefully we can pick up the trail of these thieves.

Pong is unusual but an excellent companion. While camped by the bridge between the Jade forest and Valley for the night, a pair of Tushui (A Pandaren and a Human) passed us by on some alliance business. Though the war is not 'ongoing' here, they were quick and eager to make conflict with Jihaan for displaying his Huojin colors. Despite Pongs protests, they insisted on attempting to cause violence.

So the inspector whipped them senseless with his hand fan.

It's rare to see a crane style master, especially these days, but he soundly left them twitching violently, but ultimately unharmed, in the dirt.

My absence from the clan continues to make my heart weary, but an Orcs word is his bond and I must see this through. Thankfully I am in fine company, even if a little 'home' sick.

Hopefully I can get some steaks in Halfhill market.

Saturday, 27th th day of Ish'Magor the fifth month,

Yesterday I observed what once I believed to be impossible, but now know to be a miracle of knowledge.

A Pandaren artisan named shuang-zei had an accident at his timber mill near the temple of the jade serpent. For one reason or another while working on his craft, shaping wood and creating lumber, his arm had been cut off in heavy machinery. Separated in the middle of his forearm, the cut was clean and he had lost a lot of blood.

His wife, very wisely, put the severed limb on ice and bound his upper elbow with two belts to prevent blood loss as his two sons dragged the wounded bear to the temple physicians upon a cart.

Upon arrival, he was taken to a 'clean room' and placed upon a flat, padded table. This is where my observations began.

First, they had him breathe in from a concoction of two mixed chemicals that smelled of varies herbs and oddly of pure alcohol. This rendered him asleep, but more importantly he felt no pain as he slept. Throughout the procedure a linen cloth doused in the mixture was placed under his snout or over his mouth for him to breathe from.

Once this was done, the physicians produced complicated surgical gear. This included knives, forceps, clamps, needles, pins, bolts, screws, potions, mixtures and text books.

After two hours of laborious work, and much avid but confused watching, they had re-attached his arm. I'm told he should make a full recovery in time. his arm now sits in a tight sling, cooled by ice while stitched together. The clamps, pins and bolts are placed through his arm in various points to bind the bone, sinew and flesh together in a firm and correct position. How they managed to re-attached blood vessels, ligaments and nerves is yet beyond my grasp. But I do know two things...

I am both impressed, and inspired.

Friday, 26th day of Ish'Magor the fifth month,

Jihaan is on his feet. Pandaren medicine and medical arts are truly miraculous and I'm glad I've spent the last few days studying just such arts as he healed. And with the arrival of inspector Pong, I suspect it won't be long now before we head out to find the culprits. Apparently, according to the Inspector, there has been a string of such incidents all across the continent where thieves target heirlooms, artifacts and items of historical or magical value.

Meanwhile, during my few days studying in the temple of the Jade serpent, I came across some interesting books in the library. In particular regarding how the Shado-pan and mogu have used a similar weapon to stave off Mantid kypari and amber weapons. 'Dragon guns', and interesting tool that spews flame and sparks to ignite and incinerate messy chemical or botanical weapons. I feel this may be an extremely useful tool for the 'future'. Sadly the Shado-pan guard the recipe and designs for such closely, a pity.

I've also managed to get hold of some newspapers. It's pleasing to know the Kosh'harg went well. Though less pleasing to see the state of Orgrimmar and the way the war is unfolding. Above all else, I can only be content that the clan is thriving despite all this. With some luck, I shall return to them sooner, rather than later.

Tuesday, 23rd day of Ish'Magor the fifth month,

It has been some time since I last made an entry in this journal, and I feel it is long over due, especially now I have much to think on.

It was a whirlwind journey to Pandaria from the blasted lands. Jihaan has been attacked, stabbed and bludgeoned near to death by thieves in the Redstaff family home. They took his armour, and the much coveted 'Redstaff'. Family heirlooms are precious, and these are exactly that. Jihaan recovers steadily, and soon we will set out to find the thieves. By all accounts led by a Worgen, it was a Draenei, Gnome, troll and goblin that escaped on a cloud serpent after their cowardly attack. The shado-pan are at a loss, and too busy keeping the war out of Pandaria, despite the best efforts of both Huojin and Tushui to escalate the conflict.

I have found contentment in training while I wait. Meditating, and improving my serpent style techniques. Though this has not stopped my mind wandering back to the clan. I regret missing the Kosh'harg (again), and leaving them so suddenly. but I owe the Redstaff family a great debt.

I regret even more the way I left things with Grimtide and Steelheart. Our opinions differed greatly, but it in no way makes my words acceptable. I shall have to apologize when I return.

Inspector Pong will arrive later in the week, and then our search begins.

[Soldier: Chapter 21 - Feast]

Soldier: Chapter 21 - Feast

”You must eat! Look at you, you’re practically wasting away! Have another dumpling, or four! I’ll put a few more steaks on the grill.”

Three years ago.

”Now’a! Sit! No more’a training, no more’a questions. Sit, and’a take part. Or else!” Jihaan insisted, guiding the Orc into a seat. With a firm push from the Pandaren warrior, the chair slid forward and Okiba was trapped. This should of seemed quite normal, but every muscle and bone in his body was screaming for him to run away to somewhere he’d feel less out of place.

You survived the wrath-gate, you can survive a family dinner.

He stole a glance to his left, to find Fhu’s broad monk shoulder closing off one route. To his right, perched an elder Pandaren lady with long greying hair and dimmed green eyes. Though Fhu suspected her near blind, She had him snugly trapped while she gave him the most invasive stare he’d ever felt.

”You’re looking a bit off colour young bear, you should see the menders, ohh yes, Granny Redstaff knows Green-fever when she see’s it! And in all my hundred-… hundred? Hundred years! Yours is the worst I’ve yet seen!” she proclaimed, jabbing his shoulder with a wiry clawed finger. No sooner had she made this medicinal proclamation, did Fhu whisper in his ear, cutting him off before Okiba could muster a reply.

”just go along my friendâ€"Yes, yes Gran-Gran! We will take our friend to the healers, right after Dinner! Can’t have bears poked by doctors on an empty stomach can we?”

I’d rather not be poked at all!

”such poor deals Mogu-masher, Uncle-six-ducks will have to consult lucky-do’s and his secret coin purse.” Pondered a Grummel aloud, his voice emanated on the other side of the huge red oak table. It was hard to spot him for his height, but by the sound of it he appeared to have started a rather complex discussion on logistics and supply routes with Unlce Jihaan when suddenly a large bowl slid into the middle of the tableâ€"and then another…

”Grub is up!” Proclaimed a female Pandaren, three dishes in each arm at the kitchen end of the table. Her fur was the same shade as Fhu’s, and no doubt, she was his mother. Shin-wei Redstaff, sister of Jihaan. What followed could only be described as a master class in food service, as dish after dish of local and far reaching meals from across Pandaria slid onto the table and stopped exactly where he could only assume was exactly where intended.

That is a lot of food--…”

And it kept coming, and coming. Bowls of steaming rice littered the table; all in numerous different colours and flavours from garlic to saffron, and mushroom to lemon. Then came the starters, a kettle of beef and vegetable soup, along with fine breads. Vegetable and duck pancakes with plumb and ginger dips… Shrimp coated in creamy sauces.

Spirits, this isn’t even the mains.

Hands shifted, passed, borrowed, slid and bartered bowls in a haze of trades until plates had been stacked highâ€" his included, and without any aid from the Orc himself. And yet the food kept coming. Noodles, dumplings, crispy duck, tiger steaks and more towered on his plate and others. He couldn’t keep track of the different flavours, smells and the ingredients that kept them. But nobody yet ate, they all waited, and with good reason.

”and finally, our main course! Slow roasted, beer basted yak!” Proclaimed a Pandaren male, who Okiba had come to know as Fhen-li Redstaff, Fhu’s father. He and his wife slid the giant roasted frame of the Yak, and the enormous platter it sat upon, onto the table as a grand centre-piece. Its flesh had been cooked to perfection over an open fire, the beer was even still tantalizingly trickling off its sides.

”They don’t eat like this in the army-“ He mumbled to himself, only for Fhu to clap him on the back with a chuckle.
”Of course not’a my friend! Armies feed’a you to fight. In this’a family home, you are fed to’a be content, and to bring’a family together!” Fhu nodded sagely, carving a great slice of Yak with a long knife, placing it on Okiba’s plate.
”You’re far too wise, and your family far too generous, my friend.” The Orc smiled, returning the gesture and patting the Pandaren on the back then slicing him some Yak also.
”Ahh- Generosity. Wealth and’a food are’a both much’a like wisdom. Not shared? They grow stale, stagnant… but when handed out’a freely? They bring’a prosperity to all.” The monk chuckled, quickly chomping into his slice of meat, and everything else.

You just can’t argue with his wisdom.

He turned his focus to his own plate and the mound of sweet, spiced and delicious smelling delicacies that hid it from view. He glanced at the othersâ€" they did not the strange metal tools the humans did, or their hands as an Orc would. No, they used a pair of small thin sticks they called ‘chops’. He picked up his, glancing at the others and how they used them…

This will be awkward-…I could just use my hands…no.

It was out of the question. He needed to show some manners. With a fumble, a slip, a click and further fumbles he began making a mess of trying to use them to grip. His thick green fingers just couldn’t keep them in place or bring the ends of the sticks together without dropping them.

He furrowed his brow, re-doubling his efforts but it was futile each time as the technique eluded him. It was then a set of small furred hands reached up from his right and grabbed his hand.

”No silly Orc! Like this!”

With the shift of one, and the re-position of the other, one stick was placed under his index finger while the other was between his thumb and palm. Without thinking he pressed his finger and the two sticks made a gripping clack.

”See! Anyone can learn!” Proclaimed the small voice with glee. Okiba looked to his right, sat on the old lady’s knee was a small Pandaren child, she could not of been older than eight, smiling up at him.

He smiled back, flashing his tusks in as kindly way as an Orc could. With a nod of his head in thanks, he snapped up a collection of noodles and fried duck. The Chop-sticks worked, and the food was the best he’d ever tasted. And the company even better.

Anyone can learn.