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#41
The Campfire / Re: Campaign: Shadows Over Sha...
Last post by Verzan - March 09, 2021, 08:04:52 PMShadowlands Report: An Unusual Adventure to Argus - Day one
The worst thing about going to Argus wasn’t that it was this fabled place where the Draenai came from that was told to us in stories as a beautiful tragedy but the fact that here in the Shadowlands, in Oribos, we could simply pass through a gateway as easy as a Mage might cast a portal for us back home and in a few steps through that gateway we would be there standing upon the shores of the broken dreams of another culture.
It wasn’t part of our lives, for many orcs like me and Ryk we’re Azeroth born now and the Draenai people, they’re alliance. Can’t think of many if any who’ve got a kind word to say about orcs. Our people did some things but for the Mag’har I can understand why this land we had found a way to get to held almost a spiritual significance. For them it wasn’t always the war against the Light, it was the victory against the Legion.
The same Legion that ruined Argus. This was what things could have been and what they together with the Draenai had prevented happening. It was a big deal and one I perhaps did not quite understand until we got to Argus and I saw that look painted across their faces.
---
Argus itself was wondrous and awful, two great things butted up against each other as we arrived in a place called Mac'Aree, a great city now floating in tatters akin to Outland. Fel tainted, even the air we breathed was filled with the scent of foul magic. It was a sight to behold to see such ruin and still find life. Nature here wasn’t dead; it was corrupted and broken but far from dead as the plants twisted through the stone work of the ancient city in lurid magenta shades, doing what nature does best given enough time without a gardener to push it back.
Plants reclaimed the stone but we had little time to drink in the sights or explore as monstrous fel creatures emerged from the shadows, first pouncing upon Karak Stormsong as he strayed forwards ahead of our group.
These things were as tall as an orc at the shoulder, with eyes glowing fel green. Their mouths were rows of jagged teeth and bone slapped by a long tongue and acidic bile. It's a wonder he was not torn apart in the first attack, Thronk was quick to leap in and bring his shield up in defence.
While the rest of us and our Broker E’on remained in the shrine where we had arrived, sending a flurry of arrows and magic at the nearest creatures. This only seemed to get that beast's attention as it leapt after Rhonya Steelheart. Myself and Ryk ran into help but we could not pry its jaws off her, it was only when Nakobu Shadowbreaker assaulted the beast with a dazzling beam of light did it finally let go of its hungry embrace of the shaman.
These Vile Fiends seemed to work together as a pack, spitting acid at those they could not reach while slashing at shield and orc with huge claws upon fingers so long they had to run on the knuckles of their paw.
But whatever force they threw at us, it did not take long for us to push them back, again another blast of light from Nakobu taking down the larger of the beasts while the other was cut to ribbons by the efforts of Drastal Halfbuk and Thronk.
Fight was over but it was not without costs, I had gotten myself injured stepping in to stop a spit of acid from striking Karak Stormsong during the melee. Turns out the wound was much worse than I had first thought and the demonic acid was more corrosive, it had gone through my armour rapidly.
Rykana Skywise took things from here while I remained at the camp with our Broker E’on. It seemed things were more hostile than even they had planned and they hastily constructed a sort of beacon to protect and shroud our location from the local wildlife should it come and attempt to make a meal of us again.
---
A few hours of cautious exploring had the orcs teasing at the edges of the ruined garden, it seemed quiet enough now the pack of vile fiends had been taken down. Quiet enough for the curious orcs to spread out tracking for the beast E’on wanted captured.
Nibbled grasses and the faintest tracks became apparent the further toward the distant edge of the temple complex we went. Tremors shook the land around us, the cracking of stone sounded like the carving of great ice sheets back on Northrend, like this unstable platform was still slowly crumbling away.
Some climbed trees, while others discovered the body of one of the vile fiends. It was wounded and left by its pack, it had been laying there dieing on the stones for some time when we came by. Cruel fel glowing eyes peered at us with contempt, as if it could still lash out any moment for an orc despite the huge wound in its side.
Rykana shot the creature. It was slain and its misery ended, quick and clean. When Naroda paid it closer attention the beast appeared to have been gored by something with larger horns. Perhaps the Talbuk herd we were seeking, even the more experienced orc hunters would remember the non-tainted Talbuk had a skill for impaling their enemies upon their antlers. Ancestors could only know what one with the mutations of fel was capable of here.
Drastal continued to hurry ahead of the main group, collecting rubbings from trees and small sketches of the architecture all around him. This might have been a little earnest as the curious half-blood found himself startling the herd of Talbuk from where they grazed, the creatures were clearly on alarm after the vile fiends had been hunting in the area and bolted at full tilt away from the clan.
Our hunt seemed to be over for the night. The Talbuk we were seeking were here but skittish, it would take time for them to return to the golden meadows at the edge of the temple.
E’ons beacon gave us sanctuary for the night, keeping the orc camp magically shrouded from the eyes of whatever monsters lay out there in the fel soaked landscape.
--Verzan Skywise--
Nag’Ogar Elite, Red Blade Clan
The worst thing about going to Argus wasn’t that it was this fabled place where the Draenai came from that was told to us in stories as a beautiful tragedy but the fact that here in the Shadowlands, in Oribos, we could simply pass through a gateway as easy as a Mage might cast a portal for us back home and in a few steps through that gateway we would be there standing upon the shores of the broken dreams of another culture.
It wasn’t part of our lives, for many orcs like me and Ryk we’re Azeroth born now and the Draenai people, they’re alliance. Can’t think of many if any who’ve got a kind word to say about orcs. Our people did some things but for the Mag’har I can understand why this land we had found a way to get to held almost a spiritual significance. For them it wasn’t always the war against the Light, it was the victory against the Legion.
The same Legion that ruined Argus. This was what things could have been and what they together with the Draenai had prevented happening. It was a big deal and one I perhaps did not quite understand until we got to Argus and I saw that look painted across their faces.
---
Argus itself was wondrous and awful, two great things butted up against each other as we arrived in a place called Mac'Aree, a great city now floating in tatters akin to Outland. Fel tainted, even the air we breathed was filled with the scent of foul magic. It was a sight to behold to see such ruin and still find life. Nature here wasn’t dead; it was corrupted and broken but far from dead as the plants twisted through the stone work of the ancient city in lurid magenta shades, doing what nature does best given enough time without a gardener to push it back.
Plants reclaimed the stone but we had little time to drink in the sights or explore as monstrous fel creatures emerged from the shadows, first pouncing upon Karak Stormsong as he strayed forwards ahead of our group.
These things were as tall as an orc at the shoulder, with eyes glowing fel green. Their mouths were rows of jagged teeth and bone slapped by a long tongue and acidic bile. It's a wonder he was not torn apart in the first attack, Thronk was quick to leap in and bring his shield up in defence.
While the rest of us and our Broker E’on remained in the shrine where we had arrived, sending a flurry of arrows and magic at the nearest creatures. This only seemed to get that beast's attention as it leapt after Rhonya Steelheart. Myself and Ryk ran into help but we could not pry its jaws off her, it was only when Nakobu Shadowbreaker assaulted the beast with a dazzling beam of light did it finally let go of its hungry embrace of the shaman.
These Vile Fiends seemed to work together as a pack, spitting acid at those they could not reach while slashing at shield and orc with huge claws upon fingers so long they had to run on the knuckles of their paw.
But whatever force they threw at us, it did not take long for us to push them back, again another blast of light from Nakobu taking down the larger of the beasts while the other was cut to ribbons by the efforts of Drastal Halfbuk and Thronk.
Fight was over but it was not without costs, I had gotten myself injured stepping in to stop a spit of acid from striking Karak Stormsong during the melee. Turns out the wound was much worse than I had first thought and the demonic acid was more corrosive, it had gone through my armour rapidly.
Rykana Skywise took things from here while I remained at the camp with our Broker E’on. It seemed things were more hostile than even they had planned and they hastily constructed a sort of beacon to protect and shroud our location from the local wildlife should it come and attempt to make a meal of us again.
---
A few hours of cautious exploring had the orcs teasing at the edges of the ruined garden, it seemed quiet enough now the pack of vile fiends had been taken down. Quiet enough for the curious orcs to spread out tracking for the beast E’on wanted captured.
Nibbled grasses and the faintest tracks became apparent the further toward the distant edge of the temple complex we went. Tremors shook the land around us, the cracking of stone sounded like the carving of great ice sheets back on Northrend, like this unstable platform was still slowly crumbling away.
Some climbed trees, while others discovered the body of one of the vile fiends. It was wounded and left by its pack, it had been laying there dieing on the stones for some time when we came by. Cruel fel glowing eyes peered at us with contempt, as if it could still lash out any moment for an orc despite the huge wound in its side.
Rykana shot the creature. It was slain and its misery ended, quick and clean. When Naroda paid it closer attention the beast appeared to have been gored by something with larger horns. Perhaps the Talbuk herd we were seeking, even the more experienced orc hunters would remember the non-tainted Talbuk had a skill for impaling their enemies upon their antlers. Ancestors could only know what one with the mutations of fel was capable of here.
Drastal continued to hurry ahead of the main group, collecting rubbings from trees and small sketches of the architecture all around him. This might have been a little earnest as the curious half-blood found himself startling the herd of Talbuk from where they grazed, the creatures were clearly on alarm after the vile fiends had been hunting in the area and bolted at full tilt away from the clan.
Our hunt seemed to be over for the night. The Talbuk we were seeking were here but skittish, it would take time for them to return to the golden meadows at the edge of the temple.
E’ons beacon gave us sanctuary for the night, keeping the orc camp magically shrouded from the eyes of whatever monsters lay out there in the fel soaked landscape.
--Verzan Skywise--
Nag’Ogar Elite, Red Blade Clan
#42
The Campfire / Re: Campaign: Shadows Over Sha...
Last post by Verzan - March 09, 2021, 08:03:47 PMShadowlands Campaign: Oribos, the Eternal City
Can’t say we were expecting things to turn out this way when we first came to the Shadowlands, to be flung into the land of the dead not where we had thought we were going but Maldraxxus. Where the skies are always a shade of murky twilight and the landscape has something more in common with the Eastern Plaguelands than anything else we could have possibly thought the afterlife might hold.
I am speaking the truth when I say our first contact with the inhabitants of this land led us down the wrong path, we joined forces with a dubious faction. Aided enemies who we believed were our allies, though many of us considered their tasks distasteful, it felt we had no choice but to aid them in their strange ways. We built constructs for them and took out Necrolord scouts when we should have been helping them instead.
The experience has been a challenge to many of us - the greatest was when we fought against the Necrolords. Taking our place among the ranks of the House of Constructs during a great siege upon the Seat of the Primus but the siege failed to accomplish its goals, quickly turning into a rout and many of the clan were captured.
It was only then that we could understand. Torm Sagewind who had been our first contact in Maldraxxus was a double agent, hiding among the Constructs on behalf of the Necrolords and through his efforts he was able to secure our safety at the Siege. Even if he had not told us this at the time.
‘Don’t do anything foolish’ is a dangerous phrase to say to our people it seems, almost like a challenge without context.
---
Back on track it seemed we had one final task to do in this land. Fight and slay those who had misled us even though it seemed like the same as before but under a different flag, the clan did it. If nothing else we sought revenge on those who had used us.
Task completed. The Necrolords promised us passage to Oribos as soon as it was done, with some of the clan severely injured we took a night to recover but sure enough these undead were good to their word and a portal gifted to our people.
---
Through the spirals of green Necromantic light the clan hurled themselves.
It seemed like forever since the Deathwalker subjected us to the same twisting energies, hurling the entire clan through the places between realms and beyond to the heart of the Shadowlands themselves. Oribos, the Eternal City.
Eyes cleared to behold the sights before us, Taller than any structure we had been witness to and created by creatures unknown, the creators described only as the first ones. A city of alien stone and metal of circular design with a stream of infinite souls pouring right through its belly.
As we arrived a strange Attendant moved forwards to greet us, ushering the whole clan along to guide us through our first steps. Describing the city and its many features. Speaking of an Arbiter, Brokers, Traders, Realms, Souls…. It was a little overwhelming. Though the general theme seemed to be that here at the heart of the Shadowlands, all souls must come first, they are judged and move on. This in turn draws many traders and beings from a magnitude of places.
Though it seems travel has been broken recently and only four such places are even possible to visit at this time. The guide did not dwell on the broken nature of things and brought us instead toward a portion of the Eternal city known as the Idyllia - a tavern. It then left us to our own devices.
Weary from the exertions of being flung between worlds and still carrying some serious injuries from the battle against the House of Constructs and the House of Rituals. We sought a place upon the outer rim of the city to claim for our own camp. It seemed quiet enough.
In the quiet of the outer rim of Oribos many orcs marvelled at the wondrous nature of the place we had discovered, many concluding that they had seen this place before. In the visions granted by the shaman weeks ago. This could perhaps be the first sign that we are finally picking up pace in our journey and search for Sharguul?
-- Verzan Skywise --
Nag’Ogar Elite, Red Blade Clan
Can’t say we were expecting things to turn out this way when we first came to the Shadowlands, to be flung into the land of the dead not where we had thought we were going but Maldraxxus. Where the skies are always a shade of murky twilight and the landscape has something more in common with the Eastern Plaguelands than anything else we could have possibly thought the afterlife might hold.
I am speaking the truth when I say our first contact with the inhabitants of this land led us down the wrong path, we joined forces with a dubious faction. Aided enemies who we believed were our allies, though many of us considered their tasks distasteful, it felt we had no choice but to aid them in their strange ways. We built constructs for them and took out Necrolord scouts when we should have been helping them instead.
The experience has been a challenge to many of us - the greatest was when we fought against the Necrolords. Taking our place among the ranks of the House of Constructs during a great siege upon the Seat of the Primus but the siege failed to accomplish its goals, quickly turning into a rout and many of the clan were captured.
It was only then that we could understand. Torm Sagewind who had been our first contact in Maldraxxus was a double agent, hiding among the Constructs on behalf of the Necrolords and through his efforts he was able to secure our safety at the Siege. Even if he had not told us this at the time.
‘Don’t do anything foolish’ is a dangerous phrase to say to our people it seems, almost like a challenge without context.
---
Back on track it seemed we had one final task to do in this land. Fight and slay those who had misled us even though it seemed like the same as before but under a different flag, the clan did it. If nothing else we sought revenge on those who had used us.
Task completed. The Necrolords promised us passage to Oribos as soon as it was done, with some of the clan severely injured we took a night to recover but sure enough these undead were good to their word and a portal gifted to our people.
---
Through the spirals of green Necromantic light the clan hurled themselves.
It seemed like forever since the Deathwalker subjected us to the same twisting energies, hurling the entire clan through the places between realms and beyond to the heart of the Shadowlands themselves. Oribos, the Eternal City.
Eyes cleared to behold the sights before us, Taller than any structure we had been witness to and created by creatures unknown, the creators described only as the first ones. A city of alien stone and metal of circular design with a stream of infinite souls pouring right through its belly.
As we arrived a strange Attendant moved forwards to greet us, ushering the whole clan along to guide us through our first steps. Describing the city and its many features. Speaking of an Arbiter, Brokers, Traders, Realms, Souls…. It was a little overwhelming. Though the general theme seemed to be that here at the heart of the Shadowlands, all souls must come first, they are judged and move on. This in turn draws many traders and beings from a magnitude of places.
Though it seems travel has been broken recently and only four such places are even possible to visit at this time. The guide did not dwell on the broken nature of things and brought us instead toward a portion of the Eternal city known as the Idyllia - a tavern. It then left us to our own devices.
Weary from the exertions of being flung between worlds and still carrying some serious injuries from the battle against the House of Constructs and the House of Rituals. We sought a place upon the outer rim of the city to claim for our own camp. It seemed quiet enough.
In the quiet of the outer rim of Oribos many orcs marvelled at the wondrous nature of the place we had discovered, many concluding that they had seen this place before. In the visions granted by the shaman weeks ago. This could perhaps be the first sign that we are finally picking up pace in our journey and search for Sharguul?
-- Verzan Skywise --
Nag’Ogar Elite, Red Blade Clan
#43
The Campfire / Re: Campaign: Shadows Over Sha...
Last post by Verzan - March 09, 2021, 08:03:19 PMShadowlands Battle Report: Two Heads, One Choice
It would have taken much tonight to make the orcs go along with what Kargesh Spinebreaker offered up. Many were angered and frustrated that they had been used by the House of Constructs and were now being asked to do another task for another group of undead. Although at least this was an opportunity to strike some revenge against those who had abused our trust.
We were told preparations for our departure to Oribos were being made and given a choice that if we did not desire to fight we could wait it out until it was departure time. Things seemed to be changing, we were about to depart this land once and for all. Very few orcs chose to wait it out, encouraged by their Elders to fight, although the warlock Gatran Felhammer almost rested through the choice to come with the clan to battle.
Revenge was on the cards and Necrolord liches lit the portal that would take us directly into the heart of the enemy stronghold and right to where we needed to be to face down both Seaworth from the House of Constructs and Shrakk from the House of Rituals.
---
When they said we would be taken right into the heart of the enemy’s stronghold, they had not lied. Emerging on the other side of the gate, cold stone and green Maldraxxi flame illuminated the archways that led forward. Beyond, a set of stairs took the orcs' gaze out into a circular room with two raised platforms at either end, in the middle stood both Seaworth and Shrakk. Their voices could be heard though the conversation was lost in the vast rafters of the room.
They appeared unaware of the Red Blade’s arrival or if they did, they seemed not to care.
There was a call for smoke bombs and seeming happy to oblige, Bamm handed out a brace of finely engineered smoke dispensing canisters painted with ‘happy’ looking faces.
Pin’s pulled and bombs thrown, the silence of the room was shattered. Smoke gushed out the tiny canisters and spread rapidly as orcs charged forwards through it into battle with the undead.
It seemed many focused their ire upon the former sea captain Seaworth, he had not spoken kindly to the clan and had earnt every strike and slice against him. While Shrakk was hounded by Whiteclaw and Halfbuk, chased into hiding behind Seaworths lumbering form.
Shrakk would not be shielded for long though as orcs continued to fiercely harry both from their portal gifted ambush position. In the fray Eliff Watersong cleaved one of the chunky limbs from Seaworths body - this forced Shrakk to attempt a burst of shadowy magic and ‘wings’ to knock everyone back. It seemed almost ineffective as the lich became more and more desperate against the overwhelming attack from the clan.
---
Then suddenly! A powerful shadow-like spell filled the room. Even the mightiest Red Blade spellcaster could not evade its power, vision turned to darkness and voices were lost in a sudden rush of terrible energy.
When sight returned. The golden sunset of the Spires of Arak greeted the orcs' eyes, their feet touched upon gold and glass as the sweet winds of Draenor crossed their senses. They were seemingly at the top of a tall mountain spire belonging to the Arakkoa of old.
But this was an illusion it was quickly discovered, it all felt so real and yet belonged only in the realms of our minds. The battle paused for a moment as the minds of the orcs fully realised their situation. The pause was not long, the distance of a single breath across the lips that faded into a second charge.
This time toward some dream-like ‘living’ form of Seaworth the Kul tiran sailor and Shrakk the Arakkoa with their wondrous wings as she flew for the skies above. Once again orcish blades cleaved into Seaworth and his human-like form could not defend against them all, nor could Shrakk’s wings spare her from the missiles, spells and arrows of the clan. Some even throwing shanks made while in captivity among the Necrolords, they wouldn’t be used in an escape now - waste not want not?
The fight seemed as one sided as it had before, an appropriate show of force from orcs who had their trust broken by these undead directly. Not even their minions had to pay the price, just these two - It was all going so well and then from above a sun disc moved. The platform brightened in the lamp light and with it came the terrible beam of light.
The first orcs touched were burnt terribly, their armour melted and skin blackened with burns. It turned the glass and gold of the floor to thick molten liquid that sucked at the boots of those caught nearby. Many leapt aside, while others screamed out their agonies - but as it reached its full power it shot across the backline of the clan there were but moments to spare those in its path. Rykana Skywise was given a choice to rescue Kogra Windwatcher or Nakobu.
The light user was just too far away from the Skywise and to the horror of every orc the beam caught him with all its might, rendering the caster to ash in the blink of the eye. There was nothing anyone could do to save him.
It may have been an illusion, we may have told ourselves it was but the pain was real. The sight of allies, students and friends being burnt and destroyed was still a sight no orc would forget quickly, Rhonya Steelheart clutching at the ashes of Nakobu in quiet grief, and yet the nightmare continued ever onwards.
There was an imperative now it seemed to take down Shrakk, perhaps if she fell this Illusion would shatter before anything more could happen. Even as some orcs mourned for Nakobu’s loss they threw themselves forwards into the fighting again and a hail of attacks brought the ritualist to ground. Sending her clattering against the glass of the platform.
Now was our chance to end it - and yet before any could lay a murderous blow against Shrakk, Ravens swooped down. Black and purple twisted through their feathers as their talons wrapped around the shoulders of orcs they plucked from the melee with a wrathful caw. Snatching up Thronk, Verzan Skywise and Eliff Watersong.
Watersong was quick to disentangle herself, biting the bird's foot before it could properly take hold of her. While Verzan had other plans, she wanted to climb the Raven and ride its back. The tangle between Raven and Wind rider became frantic as she battled unsuccessfully against its claws seeming not to realise how high it was flying nor what its intentions were.
This again left her sister with an impossible choice, Rykana had an arrow nocked to her bow but there was only time to save one orc. Thronk or Verzan. For a short moment the archer hesitated, hoping against hope Verzan could climb the birds back. In the next moment Rykana had shot. Her arrow flying true to the head of the Raven Verzan fought. She had saved her sister but at what cost?
The Raven flew high carrying Thronk in its claws. The warrior would stab at the bird's flesh but this only caused the great creature to lose its grip and drop him. Thronk fell like a stone, plunging deep into the cursed pools below.
I am told stories of the Arakkoa and the cursed waters of Sethe that took their flight and drove them mad. Never before had I thought I would be witness to what might happen to an orc should they tumble into the same fetid pools. Nor did any orc on the platform believe the same. Thronk fell and screamed, calling out for aid but he was too far away.
Rykana raced to the edge of the platform, desperate to help but all she could do was watch our oldest friend, helpless to find any way to rescue him.
And yet the fighting was not over, as she watched Thronk the orcs behind her struck down Seaworth. A vast array of projectiles hitting him and most noticeably arrows from the Chieftain striking true even as he was doubled over by Windwatcher’s sling, allowing my own blade to cleave the Kul Tiran in half. The illusion all about us began to falter, Shrakk herself was being brutally cut down where she had fallen from the skies. Whiteclaw and others stabbed and slashed at her.
But while the assault raged beside her, Rykana took aim with her bow. Invoking the prayers to the ancestors she fired and shot, not for our enemies but at where Thronk screamed in desperate pain. Ending his suffering in the pool below with one sharp shot.
Thronk fell into the dark waters as Bamm hurled a grenade at Shrakk, finishing the fight.
The illusion concluded in fire and sorrow.
--
As the orcs woke back in reality, still within the room they had previously been fighting, those injured in the illusion found themselves drained and weaker than before. But if the orcs felt bad, both Seaworth and Shrakk felt worse, seeming to be victims of their own hostile magic and subdued by it.
There was not a moment to spare as those who could levied an attack against them. Notably Eliff Watersong dashing forward to cleave Seaworth’s head off and Drastal Halfbuk, in a fury against the light magic he had been witness to, taking down Shrakk’s cowering form.
The fight was over, though it took Verzan Skywise dashing forward to prevent Halfbuk smashing the lich's phylactery. We had many injured and most notably Thronk and Nakobu who did not rise after the illusion was shattered.
Those with the skills of menders were quick to assess their condition as alive but broken. Almost as if their bodies had been tricked into believing they are dead by the liches illusion. It would take more than a medicine or bandages to fix and both orcs were carried away from the hall where the clan had claimed victory.
The lich's Phylactery and Seaworths head were claimed as trophies of the fight to be hauled back before Kargesh as proof of our deeds but there was little more than a perfunctory exchange. He would have offered us a view from the seat of the Primus at all the lands of Maldraxxus themselves but the focus of the orcs were with their injured. Celebrations after the battle were a muted affair - most simply wanting to leave this land and never come back.
I am told we travel for ‘Oribos’ tomorrow.
And I encourage all orcs to prepare for whatever our next step forward on this journey might bring us. Do not forget why we are here, we are travelling to find Sharguul. To rescue a Patron spirit of our clan and save our people from even darker fates than were witnessed tonight.
Verzan Skywise
Nag’Ogar Elite, Red Blade Clan.
It would have taken much tonight to make the orcs go along with what Kargesh Spinebreaker offered up. Many were angered and frustrated that they had been used by the House of Constructs and were now being asked to do another task for another group of undead. Although at least this was an opportunity to strike some revenge against those who had abused our trust.
We were told preparations for our departure to Oribos were being made and given a choice that if we did not desire to fight we could wait it out until it was departure time. Things seemed to be changing, we were about to depart this land once and for all. Very few orcs chose to wait it out, encouraged by their Elders to fight, although the warlock Gatran Felhammer almost rested through the choice to come with the clan to battle.
Revenge was on the cards and Necrolord liches lit the portal that would take us directly into the heart of the enemy stronghold and right to where we needed to be to face down both Seaworth from the House of Constructs and Shrakk from the House of Rituals.
---
When they said we would be taken right into the heart of the enemy’s stronghold, they had not lied. Emerging on the other side of the gate, cold stone and green Maldraxxi flame illuminated the archways that led forward. Beyond, a set of stairs took the orcs' gaze out into a circular room with two raised platforms at either end, in the middle stood both Seaworth and Shrakk. Their voices could be heard though the conversation was lost in the vast rafters of the room.
They appeared unaware of the Red Blade’s arrival or if they did, they seemed not to care.
There was a call for smoke bombs and seeming happy to oblige, Bamm handed out a brace of finely engineered smoke dispensing canisters painted with ‘happy’ looking faces.
Pin’s pulled and bombs thrown, the silence of the room was shattered. Smoke gushed out the tiny canisters and spread rapidly as orcs charged forwards through it into battle with the undead.
It seemed many focused their ire upon the former sea captain Seaworth, he had not spoken kindly to the clan and had earnt every strike and slice against him. While Shrakk was hounded by Whiteclaw and Halfbuk, chased into hiding behind Seaworths lumbering form.
Shrakk would not be shielded for long though as orcs continued to fiercely harry both from their portal gifted ambush position. In the fray Eliff Watersong cleaved one of the chunky limbs from Seaworths body - this forced Shrakk to attempt a burst of shadowy magic and ‘wings’ to knock everyone back. It seemed almost ineffective as the lich became more and more desperate against the overwhelming attack from the clan.
---
Then suddenly! A powerful shadow-like spell filled the room. Even the mightiest Red Blade spellcaster could not evade its power, vision turned to darkness and voices were lost in a sudden rush of terrible energy.
When sight returned. The golden sunset of the Spires of Arak greeted the orcs' eyes, their feet touched upon gold and glass as the sweet winds of Draenor crossed their senses. They were seemingly at the top of a tall mountain spire belonging to the Arakkoa of old.
But this was an illusion it was quickly discovered, it all felt so real and yet belonged only in the realms of our minds. The battle paused for a moment as the minds of the orcs fully realised their situation. The pause was not long, the distance of a single breath across the lips that faded into a second charge.
This time toward some dream-like ‘living’ form of Seaworth the Kul tiran sailor and Shrakk the Arakkoa with their wondrous wings as she flew for the skies above. Once again orcish blades cleaved into Seaworth and his human-like form could not defend against them all, nor could Shrakk’s wings spare her from the missiles, spells and arrows of the clan. Some even throwing shanks made while in captivity among the Necrolords, they wouldn’t be used in an escape now - waste not want not?
The fight seemed as one sided as it had before, an appropriate show of force from orcs who had their trust broken by these undead directly. Not even their minions had to pay the price, just these two - It was all going so well and then from above a sun disc moved. The platform brightened in the lamp light and with it came the terrible beam of light.
The first orcs touched were burnt terribly, their armour melted and skin blackened with burns. It turned the glass and gold of the floor to thick molten liquid that sucked at the boots of those caught nearby. Many leapt aside, while others screamed out their agonies - but as it reached its full power it shot across the backline of the clan there were but moments to spare those in its path. Rykana Skywise was given a choice to rescue Kogra Windwatcher or Nakobu.
The light user was just too far away from the Skywise and to the horror of every orc the beam caught him with all its might, rendering the caster to ash in the blink of the eye. There was nothing anyone could do to save him.
It may have been an illusion, we may have told ourselves it was but the pain was real. The sight of allies, students and friends being burnt and destroyed was still a sight no orc would forget quickly, Rhonya Steelheart clutching at the ashes of Nakobu in quiet grief, and yet the nightmare continued ever onwards.
There was an imperative now it seemed to take down Shrakk, perhaps if she fell this Illusion would shatter before anything more could happen. Even as some orcs mourned for Nakobu’s loss they threw themselves forwards into the fighting again and a hail of attacks brought the ritualist to ground. Sending her clattering against the glass of the platform.
Now was our chance to end it - and yet before any could lay a murderous blow against Shrakk, Ravens swooped down. Black and purple twisted through their feathers as their talons wrapped around the shoulders of orcs they plucked from the melee with a wrathful caw. Snatching up Thronk, Verzan Skywise and Eliff Watersong.
Watersong was quick to disentangle herself, biting the bird's foot before it could properly take hold of her. While Verzan had other plans, she wanted to climb the Raven and ride its back. The tangle between Raven and Wind rider became frantic as she battled unsuccessfully against its claws seeming not to realise how high it was flying nor what its intentions were.
This again left her sister with an impossible choice, Rykana had an arrow nocked to her bow but there was only time to save one orc. Thronk or Verzan. For a short moment the archer hesitated, hoping against hope Verzan could climb the birds back. In the next moment Rykana had shot. Her arrow flying true to the head of the Raven Verzan fought. She had saved her sister but at what cost?
The Raven flew high carrying Thronk in its claws. The warrior would stab at the bird's flesh but this only caused the great creature to lose its grip and drop him. Thronk fell like a stone, plunging deep into the cursed pools below.
I am told stories of the Arakkoa and the cursed waters of Sethe that took their flight and drove them mad. Never before had I thought I would be witness to what might happen to an orc should they tumble into the same fetid pools. Nor did any orc on the platform believe the same. Thronk fell and screamed, calling out for aid but he was too far away.
Rykana raced to the edge of the platform, desperate to help but all she could do was watch our oldest friend, helpless to find any way to rescue him.
And yet the fighting was not over, as she watched Thronk the orcs behind her struck down Seaworth. A vast array of projectiles hitting him and most noticeably arrows from the Chieftain striking true even as he was doubled over by Windwatcher’s sling, allowing my own blade to cleave the Kul Tiran in half. The illusion all about us began to falter, Shrakk herself was being brutally cut down where she had fallen from the skies. Whiteclaw and others stabbed and slashed at her.
But while the assault raged beside her, Rykana took aim with her bow. Invoking the prayers to the ancestors she fired and shot, not for our enemies but at where Thronk screamed in desperate pain. Ending his suffering in the pool below with one sharp shot.
Thronk fell into the dark waters as Bamm hurled a grenade at Shrakk, finishing the fight.
The illusion concluded in fire and sorrow.
--
As the orcs woke back in reality, still within the room they had previously been fighting, those injured in the illusion found themselves drained and weaker than before. But if the orcs felt bad, both Seaworth and Shrakk felt worse, seeming to be victims of their own hostile magic and subdued by it.
There was not a moment to spare as those who could levied an attack against them. Notably Eliff Watersong dashing forward to cleave Seaworth’s head off and Drastal Halfbuk, in a fury against the light magic he had been witness to, taking down Shrakk’s cowering form.
The fight was over, though it took Verzan Skywise dashing forward to prevent Halfbuk smashing the lich's phylactery. We had many injured and most notably Thronk and Nakobu who did not rise after the illusion was shattered.
Those with the skills of menders were quick to assess their condition as alive but broken. Almost as if their bodies had been tricked into believing they are dead by the liches illusion. It would take more than a medicine or bandages to fix and both orcs were carried away from the hall where the clan had claimed victory.
The lich's Phylactery and Seaworths head were claimed as trophies of the fight to be hauled back before Kargesh as proof of our deeds but there was little more than a perfunctory exchange. He would have offered us a view from the seat of the Primus at all the lands of Maldraxxus themselves but the focus of the orcs were with their injured. Celebrations after the battle were a muted affair - most simply wanting to leave this land and never come back.
I am told we travel for ‘Oribos’ tomorrow.
And I encourage all orcs to prepare for whatever our next step forward on this journey might bring us. Do not forget why we are here, we are travelling to find Sharguul. To rescue a Patron spirit of our clan and save our people from even darker fates than were witnessed tonight.
Verzan Skywise
Nag’Ogar Elite, Red Blade Clan.
#44
The Campfire / Re: Campaign: Shadows Over Sha...
Last post by Verzan - March 09, 2021, 08:02:17 PMShadowlands Report: The Almost Rescue
Each of us had found our own way to that quiet cave, each with our own reasons for having missed the siege or avoided capture. The dusty ground of the forgotten cavern echoed with the quiet footfalls of uncertain orcs and beasts as they tried to understand what had happened and determine what they should do next.
The Clan was gone, that much was certain. None had been able to sight them or receive response over the Spirit Link. Their last known location had been the main bridge leading to the Seat and that was now a battle-scarred ruin, weapons and armour littering the wartorn stone.
The orcs that were gathered quickly decided that they must act to discover the fate of their Clan for certain, even if that was just locating their remains and giving them the proper rites and rituals as deserved by a Red Blade. I suggested that we venture out close to the Necrolord lines, moving quietly until we could capture someone who might know something and gain some direction to our goal.
The others agreed, keen to do something more than sitting in this dusty tomb.
--
The group gathered up their meagre belongings and moved out across the fleshy landscape, quietly certain that they would not return to the cavern that had provided safe haven and that there was some truth out there to be discovered that would set their world right again.
We wove a path between giant mushrooms, towering tall as Zangarmarsh of Outland, picking our way along roads littered with the refuse of battle. Signs of conflict were everywhere, carts and barricades shattered and littered with the bodies of the fallen.
All were thankful to find no orcs among the broken corpses or any construct moving to halt their progress. Things were quiet, that eerie quiet that follows battle, where the world holds its breath lest death find them as well.
The group of orcs reached the edge of a large trench, the steep sides oozing with a thick clay that clung to their boots and clothes as they rushed across, keen to be clear of the open ground and the perils that lay in its basin. They made it across unscathed but it was clear any attempt to journey back the way they came would be significantly more challenging.
There was nowhere to go but forwards, the safety of the cavern had been truly left behind.
A narrow path led them through the peaks of jagged stone, revealing the Seat towering above them, skeletal features of the giant figure a looming presence over the scene of the recent battle. There was another stretch of open ground before they would reach the edges of the Necrolord camp, many of the orcs readying their weapons as they ducked into the cover of debris littering the path, keen eyes turned out towards the distant foe as they tried to find a path forwards.
--
Ragnar Whiteclaw believed the basin would prove the safest path but the open ground and sparse patrols made me concerned, too many eyes looking out over the exposed basin around the outer defences. Instead, I suggested a route lined with large bones that jutted from the earth like the ribs of some long-forgotten monster. It should provide cover enough for our small group to sneak closer to the enemy and try to find a worthwhile captive.
The plan was agreed and the Red Blade stole out across the sucking ground, “Quick and Quiet†had become our motto of the evening and we stuck to it as we made it to the far side, whispering our relief that the eyes of the guards had not been upon us as we settled into the cover of the broken bones.
We crept forwards, Meri Soulwalker finding herself surprisingly camouflaged in the pale landscape but the terrain proved tougher for the others. Whiteclaw slid down one of the hills, but when we came to stop at the next edge of the bones there was no alarm raised, no eyes or weapons turned our way.
We were fortunate, at least for now.
They were met by the sight of a single guard, towering taller than any orc and clutching a halberd that seemed large enough to skewer a dragon, facing away from the orcs as it guarded a set of steps leading upwards. Further into the camp, patrols of shuffling undead grew thicker. There would be no sneaking further that way, it was the stairs or we’d have to turn back. And no orc wished to turn back.
It was quickly decided that we wouldn’t be able to subdue this giant of a guard without alerting the others and so a different plan was concocted. Nakobu Shadowbreaker and Meri Soulwalker would use their connection to the Light to levitate some of the objects near to the guard and make enough noise to force them to leave their post and investigate. It wasn’t a perfect plan, both of the Light wielders advising that their connection was diminished in this place but that by working together they should be able to do it.
We once again crept closer, giving ourselves the shortest distance to cover before making it to the steps, readying ourselves for the sprint ahead as the two Light wielders prepared to lift some of the bones and scatter them against the boxes of ammunition.
The bones bobbed into the air, clattering against the boxes as the guard stared dumbly ahead, a tense moment passing before they suddenly realised that something had happened and lurched off to investigate, grumbling about spine louses. Clearly this guard was not picked for its intelligence.
As soon as the guard had moved away, the orcs sprang into action, racing up the steps and pressing themselves against the wall of the Seat itself, crouching down as they caught their breath and peered ahead at the figure standing on the balcony at the top.
They had their back to our little group of would-be kidnappers, seeming to be standing with an air of authority lacking in the guards below. We could not see what lay around the corner of the archway we crouched beside but this seemed to be our only moment.
--
It was agreed that this wasn’t the perfect plan but we had to do something now or risk losing everything.
The Red Blade pounced just as the figure turned and noticed us, too late to prevent Ragnar Whiteclaw and Ussa Tideseeker from snatching her arms and pinning them while Rykana Skywise raced forwards and pressed a knife to their cheek, the point nudging threateningly close to their eye.
What we had no way of knowing was that the door to the Seat was open and now guards spilled out to level halberds at us, easily outnumbering our small group as we were trapped on the edge of the balcony with our hostage.
There were calls for the guards to keep their distance, Skywise shuffling the hostage to the edge of the balcony where there was a gap in the railing, threatening to hurl their skeletal prisoner over the edge if the guards did anything foolish while the deathwalker Enrah rattled her runeblade along the edge of the enemy halberds in a warding gesture.
The figure recognised the symbols of our Clan around our person, hissing out the name of our Clan as they lifted a hand to halt the guards advance. What followed was a terse exchange of words, questions jabbed at the skeletal hostage while they tried to deescalate the situation, assuring us of our Clan’s wellbeing and their distinct desire not to kill us. Skywise, Whiteclaw and Tideseeker all urged for the release of our Clan but were assured that our people had been placed in captivity to prevent further conflict while passions were still high following the siege. This did little to appease us.
Our ‘hostage’ explained something of Sagewind’s purpose and the lies we had been fed by the House of Constructs, our weapons slowly lowering as it became clear they had no wish to be our enemies. She spoke of preparations being made for our departure and that they had no desire to make slaves of us. We eventually released our hold of her, clear that she did not wish our deaths and was willing to discuss matters with us.
She introduced herself as Captain Narielle but was met by stern words demanding what we were owed for completing the tasks set to us by their agent Sagewind, reaffirming our need to get to Oribos, the mysterious city. She regretfully informed us that while preparations were being made to transport us there, it was not her decision what should happen to us in the meantime. That rested on the shoulders of one Kargesh Spinebreaker.
After more assurances that the long string of ‘tasks’ we had suffered over the last weeks would soon be at an end, our little group agreed to be escorted to the rest of the Clan. Skywise demanded that they be given a chance to retrieve the weapons and armour lost by our people during the siege and have it returned to them, as a gesture of good faith.
They assured us they would dispatch their agent to see what items could be found and that they would be returned immediately.
--
With heavy hearts our group of Red Blade allowed themselves to be escorted down beneath the bridge, rejoining the rest of their Clan.
We had suffered no wounds and learned a little of how this place works and the plans we had been swept up in. It wasn’t the success we had hoped for but a Clan together is better than a Clan divided and at least we would have all orcs armed again soon.
We just had to survive whatever this Spinebreaker had planned for us in the coming nights and we would be free of this hateful place. And if they went back on their arrangement...well, the Red Blade had had enough of being strung along and blood would mark the walls before they breathed their last.
Rykana Skywise
Nag’Ogar, Red Blade Clan
Each of us had found our own way to that quiet cave, each with our own reasons for having missed the siege or avoided capture. The dusty ground of the forgotten cavern echoed with the quiet footfalls of uncertain orcs and beasts as they tried to understand what had happened and determine what they should do next.
The Clan was gone, that much was certain. None had been able to sight them or receive response over the Spirit Link. Their last known location had been the main bridge leading to the Seat and that was now a battle-scarred ruin, weapons and armour littering the wartorn stone.
The orcs that were gathered quickly decided that they must act to discover the fate of their Clan for certain, even if that was just locating their remains and giving them the proper rites and rituals as deserved by a Red Blade. I suggested that we venture out close to the Necrolord lines, moving quietly until we could capture someone who might know something and gain some direction to our goal.
The others agreed, keen to do something more than sitting in this dusty tomb.
--
The group gathered up their meagre belongings and moved out across the fleshy landscape, quietly certain that they would not return to the cavern that had provided safe haven and that there was some truth out there to be discovered that would set their world right again.
We wove a path between giant mushrooms, towering tall as Zangarmarsh of Outland, picking our way along roads littered with the refuse of battle. Signs of conflict were everywhere, carts and barricades shattered and littered with the bodies of the fallen.
All were thankful to find no orcs among the broken corpses or any construct moving to halt their progress. Things were quiet, that eerie quiet that follows battle, where the world holds its breath lest death find them as well.
The group of orcs reached the edge of a large trench, the steep sides oozing with a thick clay that clung to their boots and clothes as they rushed across, keen to be clear of the open ground and the perils that lay in its basin. They made it across unscathed but it was clear any attempt to journey back the way they came would be significantly more challenging.
There was nowhere to go but forwards, the safety of the cavern had been truly left behind.
A narrow path led them through the peaks of jagged stone, revealing the Seat towering above them, skeletal features of the giant figure a looming presence over the scene of the recent battle. There was another stretch of open ground before they would reach the edges of the Necrolord camp, many of the orcs readying their weapons as they ducked into the cover of debris littering the path, keen eyes turned out towards the distant foe as they tried to find a path forwards.
--
Ragnar Whiteclaw believed the basin would prove the safest path but the open ground and sparse patrols made me concerned, too many eyes looking out over the exposed basin around the outer defences. Instead, I suggested a route lined with large bones that jutted from the earth like the ribs of some long-forgotten monster. It should provide cover enough for our small group to sneak closer to the enemy and try to find a worthwhile captive.
The plan was agreed and the Red Blade stole out across the sucking ground, “Quick and Quiet†had become our motto of the evening and we stuck to it as we made it to the far side, whispering our relief that the eyes of the guards had not been upon us as we settled into the cover of the broken bones.
We crept forwards, Meri Soulwalker finding herself surprisingly camouflaged in the pale landscape but the terrain proved tougher for the others. Whiteclaw slid down one of the hills, but when we came to stop at the next edge of the bones there was no alarm raised, no eyes or weapons turned our way.
We were fortunate, at least for now.
They were met by the sight of a single guard, towering taller than any orc and clutching a halberd that seemed large enough to skewer a dragon, facing away from the orcs as it guarded a set of steps leading upwards. Further into the camp, patrols of shuffling undead grew thicker. There would be no sneaking further that way, it was the stairs or we’d have to turn back. And no orc wished to turn back.
It was quickly decided that we wouldn’t be able to subdue this giant of a guard without alerting the others and so a different plan was concocted. Nakobu Shadowbreaker and Meri Soulwalker would use their connection to the Light to levitate some of the objects near to the guard and make enough noise to force them to leave their post and investigate. It wasn’t a perfect plan, both of the Light wielders advising that their connection was diminished in this place but that by working together they should be able to do it.
We once again crept closer, giving ourselves the shortest distance to cover before making it to the steps, readying ourselves for the sprint ahead as the two Light wielders prepared to lift some of the bones and scatter them against the boxes of ammunition.
The bones bobbed into the air, clattering against the boxes as the guard stared dumbly ahead, a tense moment passing before they suddenly realised that something had happened and lurched off to investigate, grumbling about spine louses. Clearly this guard was not picked for its intelligence.
As soon as the guard had moved away, the orcs sprang into action, racing up the steps and pressing themselves against the wall of the Seat itself, crouching down as they caught their breath and peered ahead at the figure standing on the balcony at the top.
They had their back to our little group of would-be kidnappers, seeming to be standing with an air of authority lacking in the guards below. We could not see what lay around the corner of the archway we crouched beside but this seemed to be our only moment.
--
It was agreed that this wasn’t the perfect plan but we had to do something now or risk losing everything.
The Red Blade pounced just as the figure turned and noticed us, too late to prevent Ragnar Whiteclaw and Ussa Tideseeker from snatching her arms and pinning them while Rykana Skywise raced forwards and pressed a knife to their cheek, the point nudging threateningly close to their eye.
What we had no way of knowing was that the door to the Seat was open and now guards spilled out to level halberds at us, easily outnumbering our small group as we were trapped on the edge of the balcony with our hostage.
There were calls for the guards to keep their distance, Skywise shuffling the hostage to the edge of the balcony where there was a gap in the railing, threatening to hurl their skeletal prisoner over the edge if the guards did anything foolish while the deathwalker Enrah rattled her runeblade along the edge of the enemy halberds in a warding gesture.
The figure recognised the symbols of our Clan around our person, hissing out the name of our Clan as they lifted a hand to halt the guards advance. What followed was a terse exchange of words, questions jabbed at the skeletal hostage while they tried to deescalate the situation, assuring us of our Clan’s wellbeing and their distinct desire not to kill us. Skywise, Whiteclaw and Tideseeker all urged for the release of our Clan but were assured that our people had been placed in captivity to prevent further conflict while passions were still high following the siege. This did little to appease us.
Our ‘hostage’ explained something of Sagewind’s purpose and the lies we had been fed by the House of Constructs, our weapons slowly lowering as it became clear they had no wish to be our enemies. She spoke of preparations being made for our departure and that they had no desire to make slaves of us. We eventually released our hold of her, clear that she did not wish our deaths and was willing to discuss matters with us.
She introduced herself as Captain Narielle but was met by stern words demanding what we were owed for completing the tasks set to us by their agent Sagewind, reaffirming our need to get to Oribos, the mysterious city. She regretfully informed us that while preparations were being made to transport us there, it was not her decision what should happen to us in the meantime. That rested on the shoulders of one Kargesh Spinebreaker.
After more assurances that the long string of ‘tasks’ we had suffered over the last weeks would soon be at an end, our little group agreed to be escorted to the rest of the Clan. Skywise demanded that they be given a chance to retrieve the weapons and armour lost by our people during the siege and have it returned to them, as a gesture of good faith.
They assured us they would dispatch their agent to see what items could be found and that they would be returned immediately.
--
With heavy hearts our group of Red Blade allowed themselves to be escorted down beneath the bridge, rejoining the rest of their Clan.
We had suffered no wounds and learned a little of how this place works and the plans we had been swept up in. It wasn’t the success we had hoped for but a Clan together is better than a Clan divided and at least we would have all orcs armed again soon.
We just had to survive whatever this Spinebreaker had planned for us in the coming nights and we would be free of this hateful place. And if they went back on their arrangement...well, the Red Blade had had enough of being strung along and blood would mark the walls before they breathed their last.
Rykana Skywise
Nag’Ogar, Red Blade Clan
#45
The Campfire / Re: Campaign: Shadows Over Sha...
Last post by Verzan - March 09, 2021, 08:01:24 PMShadowlands Report (of limited access) - Captured Under the Seat
I can remember the last moments of the battle, standing next to Takkat Warwolf swinging blades to hold up as many rushing Necrolord defenders as we could to buy the orcs behind us time to get away but they were too hurt and we were too few. I did not entirely know what happened to us next.
I wake after a time, below what I suspect is the bridge or some adjoining place. Green flame illuminates the roof, I can hear other orcs shuffling. Some sound to be in pain while others are subjecting their captors to prickly harsh words of protest and bile.
We are captured then.
Peering around a brief count of the orcs that I can see suggests that all have been found who set foot onto the battlefield, with the exception of Halfbuk. I do not see him for now. The Chieftain is standing already and Karak Stormsong is beating the guards with pointed words to match his own misery from injury and the near loss of his only child.
Others are not yet conscious, the youngling Naroda seems to be down, Felhammer too hasn’t moved though I can see his breath he seems soaked in his own blood. He did not fare well this battle. The liches among Necrolords however appear to have mended those who could have died if left untreated.
Torm Sagewind stands across from us. If it was not certain before, It is clear he was never on our side. He was not part of the House of Constructs but instead a sleeper agent working for the Necrolords hidden among the ranks of the enemy. Warwolf spits blood in his direction and calls him traitor - there are no kind words for the former Tauren from many.
‘Do not do anything foolish’ His words at least made sense now but we could never have known before the battle quite what he meant. Nor expect him to understand the oath of the clan orcs when they refused surrender.
--
Sagewind attempts a dialogue with the clan, aiming his words at the Chieftain but finding even Feraleyes diplomatic turn of phrase somewhat damning.
An Orc commander joins Sagewind in the discussion, as tall as he is wide this monster of an orc seems ancient and has been able to keep his original shape for the most part. His body was littered with scars from battles fought and won in the past. It was this orc that Seaworth had been calling out across the battlefield. He expresses disappointment at our attempt to battle his forces.
The orc ‘Kargesh Spinebreaker’ who had recognised the Red Blade clan symbol reacts in his own scornful way and mentions Githya. Githya being an orc of his time. Though it seems in life he did not have the best experiences with Githya Redblade, the namesake of our clan. He says little more to the clan, rather drinks in a good look at us and departs.
It is Torm Sagewind who once again attempts to sit down and explain what is going on, with mixed results. He speaks to us of the conflict in the Shadowlands of how the other Houses of Maldraxxus have begun invading the other realms and claiming anima from them for themselves subverting the purpose of the Maldraxxi as defenders of the Shadowlands.
He speaks of the souls destined for the Maw, those endless countless people thrown into the worst of places because something has fundamentally broken here and it seems like there is little we as clan orcs can do about it but survive and not join their number.
Perhaps in some ways this break in the order of things here in the Shadowlands could explain the troubles facing Sharguul - Sagewind did not know and upon finding himself unwelcome in our company he left us.
--
It was clear much is happening beyond our control.
More so now we are trapped in a cage waiting to see what these Necrolords will do with us. Many orcs are preparing themselves for a fight, should these undead come to execute us like they did the prisoners back within the House of Constructs. We have small weapons and we are resting, it is all we can do for now.
--Verzan Skywise--
Nag’Ogar Elite, Red Blade Clan
I can remember the last moments of the battle, standing next to Takkat Warwolf swinging blades to hold up as many rushing Necrolord defenders as we could to buy the orcs behind us time to get away but they were too hurt and we were too few. I did not entirely know what happened to us next.
I wake after a time, below what I suspect is the bridge or some adjoining place. Green flame illuminates the roof, I can hear other orcs shuffling. Some sound to be in pain while others are subjecting their captors to prickly harsh words of protest and bile.
We are captured then.
Peering around a brief count of the orcs that I can see suggests that all have been found who set foot onto the battlefield, with the exception of Halfbuk. I do not see him for now. The Chieftain is standing already and Karak Stormsong is beating the guards with pointed words to match his own misery from injury and the near loss of his only child.
Others are not yet conscious, the youngling Naroda seems to be down, Felhammer too hasn’t moved though I can see his breath he seems soaked in his own blood. He did not fare well this battle. The liches among Necrolords however appear to have mended those who could have died if left untreated.
Torm Sagewind stands across from us. If it was not certain before, It is clear he was never on our side. He was not part of the House of Constructs but instead a sleeper agent working for the Necrolords hidden among the ranks of the enemy. Warwolf spits blood in his direction and calls him traitor - there are no kind words for the former Tauren from many.
‘Do not do anything foolish’ His words at least made sense now but we could never have known before the battle quite what he meant. Nor expect him to understand the oath of the clan orcs when they refused surrender.
--
Sagewind attempts a dialogue with the clan, aiming his words at the Chieftain but finding even Feraleyes diplomatic turn of phrase somewhat damning.
An Orc commander joins Sagewind in the discussion, as tall as he is wide this monster of an orc seems ancient and has been able to keep his original shape for the most part. His body was littered with scars from battles fought and won in the past. It was this orc that Seaworth had been calling out across the battlefield. He expresses disappointment at our attempt to battle his forces.
The orc ‘Kargesh Spinebreaker’ who had recognised the Red Blade clan symbol reacts in his own scornful way and mentions Githya. Githya being an orc of his time. Though it seems in life he did not have the best experiences with Githya Redblade, the namesake of our clan. He says little more to the clan, rather drinks in a good look at us and departs.
It is Torm Sagewind who once again attempts to sit down and explain what is going on, with mixed results. He speaks to us of the conflict in the Shadowlands of how the other Houses of Maldraxxus have begun invading the other realms and claiming anima from them for themselves subverting the purpose of the Maldraxxi as defenders of the Shadowlands.
He speaks of the souls destined for the Maw, those endless countless people thrown into the worst of places because something has fundamentally broken here and it seems like there is little we as clan orcs can do about it but survive and not join their number.
Perhaps in some ways this break in the order of things here in the Shadowlands could explain the troubles facing Sharguul - Sagewind did not know and upon finding himself unwelcome in our company he left us.
--
It was clear much is happening beyond our control.
More so now we are trapped in a cage waiting to see what these Necrolords will do with us. Many orcs are preparing themselves for a fight, should these undead come to execute us like they did the prisoners back within the House of Constructs. We have small weapons and we are resting, it is all we can do for now.
--Verzan Skywise--
Nag’Ogar Elite, Red Blade Clan
#46
The Campfire / Re: Campaign: Shadows Over Sha...
Last post by Verzan - March 09, 2021, 08:00:58 PMShadowlands Battle Report: Siege of the Seat
Even before Torm Sagewind approached our camp the constructs were rowdy, there was movement behind the main gate that you could feel through the ground, it came with a sort of energy of its own. Orcs began to gather suspecting that now was the time of the mentioned battle we would aid them with and discussing their options. Skywise had a map suggesting bolt holes to the Chieftain when Sagewind arrived to inform us of the coming siege. Candidly asking us not to do anything foolish - this statement became a theme for the construct as he continued to mention that we should only do what we needed to do.
As the orcs mustered, the usual warnings were issued, stay together and spare your strength after all sieges rarely are over in a night and those that are-- nobody much wanted to talk about what happened with those ones when not enough people face an impossible army.
---
In the courtyard the Constructs mustered around the ‘monster’ we had helped build.
It stood seven meters tall, in the form of an undead chimera, pieces of flayed wings made up the vast majority of its shape twisted about it to give it not two but six wings in total. When we first approached the monster was dormant, its wings wrapped about it like a huge bone stitched bat, yet to be given life by the ritualists.
Seaworth was standing up front and center giving speeches among the other leaders of the Houses, whipping up their forces ready for the battle to come. His words were bold and strike many orcs as not entirely what they had signed up for. When we had been assured we would be part of a defence of Maldraxxus against Rebels, he spoke of Conquest and when they mentioned the creature we had aided them building. It was referred to as a ‘Doomsday weapon’, something did not ring true.
The orcs found themselves with more questions than answers at Seaworths battle speech.
Sagewind who stood alongside them had little to say on the matter, he was not as motivated by those speakers as the rest merely murmuring ‘Bear in mind the words I spoke before’
Loud cheers continue as the green Necromantic energies swirl and glow above them, pouring down in a show of otherworldly magic that with the aid of ritualists brought the dormant construct to life. The monstrous creature flapped its huge wings and sent many sprawling to the deck. Its roar was louder than summer thunder.
As the monster took to the skies, it was time for the Horde of Constructs and ritualists to depart. Their leaders gave them a buoyant command to ‘March!’ and they were all too keen to obey.
That was our call to leave alongside them. Sagewind secured for us mounts, great Tauralus. Undead bull-like monsters with saddles. tall as Kodo and much less placid but they would do.
---
Riding out among the crowds the orcs were paid little heed by their fellows. The Constructs surged along the road keen for glory and to make their names upon the battlefield ahead. Maldraxxus skies boiled and twisted as the winds picked up making flying for the wind riders troublesome but not impossible.
Upon the journey the clan passed by an immense fighting arena, curious eyes drawn to peer between the arches of the immense halls. This arena was larger than some towns in Durotar but seemed quiet on the eve of the battle, the hollow halls echoed with the boot steps of the armies marching past it. There was no time to investigate it further.
Chieftain Feraleye, riding atop a particularly huge Tauralus, marshalled the orcs ever onwards, keeping the pack together as best he could. While Skywise above reported the marching army’s progress. All roads seemed to funnel the warriors toward a vast bridge on the other side of the Arena and beyond to the feet of a great skeletal statue sitting down among the hills themselves - this must be the seat of the Primus that the speakers had mentioned.
Ahead of the army, Necropolis had begun firing salvo of green magical energy at the defenders who mustered along the ramparts ready to give their life for their cause. This was no mere rebel faction it seemed but quite a formidable army in its own right, who were doggedly hunkered down in their fortress-like encampment.
---
It was not long before the orcs found themselves at the foot of the bridge. Formed up on mounts and peering down the void of empty space between the armies. Larger constructs occasionally jostled for position, eager for the charge and desperate almost to be the first into the melee. The air was tense, filled with anticipation bordering on excitement for the battle to come. Mounts whine, construct blades shine and leaders exchange harsh words over the void of no man's land.
Seaworth was keen to berate an orcish leader on the Necrolord side.
Though few of the orcs could make out the detail of the orc that he spoke so bitterly at.
Then something changed, weapons were raised. A Cheer went up and the charge began. Both sides screaming ‘For Maldraxxus’ as they run forwards. The orcs charge too, buffeted along in the first surge of the battle.
As the charge rushes forward, the defenders launch the first salvo of green flamed shot from catapults and ballista on their battlements. The shots erupt in flame among the front ranks, shrapnel and flames even striking some of the Red Blade from their mounts but it does not halt the charge. There is barely a dent made in the advancing armies ranks.
Orcs are quick to spread along the frontline as the Necrolords become almost indistinguishable from Constructs and others among the brutal melee. Dozens of the undead were cut down before the orcs, while Rhonya Steelheart hauled Karak Stormsong and his son onto her wolf to rejoin the others. Only then to have him save Takkat Warwolf the moment he reached the melee.
High above them a terrible shrill cry could be heard, the winged monster made for this battle swooped down and fired a great green ray of fiery doom into the back ranks of the defenders. Almost immediately as they scream and wail in flames, the attacking constructs cheer on their monster. Revelling in the sight of such a champion.
‘Witness the sight of the enemy falling before our might!’ One attacker called but they seemed to be given little heed as the orcs continued to forge their own path in the chaos of the battle engulfing them.
Drastal Halfbuk raged with the fury of a forge, losing himself in the scrum to bloodfury. Other orcs were less fortunate, the blind seer Kogra Windwatcher became victim to several blows, one attacker leaping onto the shaman with axe in hand to plant it into their shoulder before they could be torn away by Skywise.
It is only in these moments do the orcs become aware of the hostile skies whipping up about them. A soulstorm seemed to be blowing in across the bridge, while it seemed not to hinder the great monstrosity terrorizing the skies above. It begins to be felt by those upon the ground, touching the edges of the bridge and pulling some warriors up and into the winds ‘Ride the wind!’ they call as if seeming to know what the Soulstorm is. Others are smashed against each other violently.
Another wave of defenders surged into the front lines and that is when the air darkened and the full force of the Soulstorm was felt. Ripping the smaller orcs from their feet, Keshrakk and some of the animal companions of the orcs are lifted. Some intentional, Skywise throwing Windwatcher into the saddle and getting in the skies to fly them both to safety.
Debris and violent attackers take their toll as the wind buffets across the battlefield. Keshrakk the child is plucked out of the air along with Tyranni the dinosaur and brought to ground. Told to hide and keep from the fighting - who brings a child to a siege anyways?
---
The storm passed leaving attacker and defender bruised in its wake.
Maldraxxi picked themselves up from the ground and continued to wage their wars against each other. The orcs for the most part do the same, cutting down the last few defenders before another wave can launch itself into them.
It is at this point the Necrolords are losing ground, focusing fire on the monstrosity owning the skies above them. It paid off for the defenders as several expert shots connected with the flying beast, clipping its wings and bringing it to ground several meters ahead of the frontlines. The bolts fired contained chains and these chains stopped the monster getting back in the skies above.
Sagewind seemed to defend Thronk from the debris kicked up as the monster crashed to the floor but the Construct had other plans - suddenly rushing across the lines. He made it through safely as if the enemy defenders parted for him and joined in the swarm of Necrolords hacking at the monster. With chains gained from the Necromancers tower several nights ago he headed directly to the heart of the monster, wrapping them about it and using their power to seemingly drain the anima from the creature.
Whatever he was doing it seemed to have worked, the creature seemed to lose control. It reared its two heads with a violent yank and tore itself free of the defenders. Green billowed in its throat and it fired a burst of green flame onto those in front of it, defender or attacker. Before charging for the armies fighting on the bridge and seemingly also the Red Blade.
---
There was nowhere to hide as debris and flame came for the orcs, heroic saves were made across the lines, the orcs were looking tired now. Many were on the floor bleeding with Steelheart doing her best to mend and keep them stable. It is at this point that Verzan Skywise utters the words ‘I have a plan’ and the remaining fighting orcs listen as the Elite explains.
Take the rope we have and attach it to the biggest fallen constructs and lasso the other end around the winged monstrosity. It was a long shot but it couldn’t fly, kicking the corpses off the bridge would hopefully drag the creature away before it could crash into the clan.
Chieftain Feraleye and Thronk attempted to secure lines to construct bodies, Skywise and Warwolf attempted the messy business of getting rope on the monster end of things. While Bamm who had been doggedly fighting his way through the conflict, lay wounded blasting away one of the monstrous constructs heads and made it actually easier to rope.
It was Warwolf who heroically threw herself at the creature to secure the line but the orcs couldn’t stop the beast charging one last time. Even as the young Naroda woundedly joined Chieftain, Skywise, wyvern and Thronk on the floor pushing corpses. It wasn’t enough.
There was almost relief as the corpses tipped over the bridge, the rope snapping tense and then sharply dragging its hostile form over the edge with them. Disposed of and defeated.
---
The constructs and their allies were however now sounding out the withdrawal from the bridge. The defenders had won the hour as fighting morale slipped away from the bridge like their destroyed monster so did any support the clan shared with their ‘allies’
Too many Red Blade were on the floor.
The Elite called the Nag’Ogar to make a stand, to buy the orcs a chance to get clear but it was in vain the forces they faced were too numerous and the orcs themselves more than a little battle weary. Steelheart stood over Stormsong seemingly able to wield strange green flames at her palms in defence, she held ground before trying desperately to carry Stormsong from the bridge.
While others like Naroda, Bamm and Felhammer were too injured to give much fight at the incoming surge of victorious defenders.
There was simply no choice, the Necrolords were keen to take some captives even as the orcs were witness to them executing Constructs around them. Some were simply too injured to stop themselves being taken while others fought until they could not hold a sword any longer. Even keshrakk was found and hauled like a sack of violent wheat into the custody of the Necrolords.
The clan were captured. The Siege at the seat lost.
--Verzan Skywise--
Nag’Ogar Elite, Red Blade Clan.
Even before Torm Sagewind approached our camp the constructs were rowdy, there was movement behind the main gate that you could feel through the ground, it came with a sort of energy of its own. Orcs began to gather suspecting that now was the time of the mentioned battle we would aid them with and discussing their options. Skywise had a map suggesting bolt holes to the Chieftain when Sagewind arrived to inform us of the coming siege. Candidly asking us not to do anything foolish - this statement became a theme for the construct as he continued to mention that we should only do what we needed to do.
As the orcs mustered, the usual warnings were issued, stay together and spare your strength after all sieges rarely are over in a night and those that are-- nobody much wanted to talk about what happened with those ones when not enough people face an impossible army.
---
In the courtyard the Constructs mustered around the ‘monster’ we had helped build.
It stood seven meters tall, in the form of an undead chimera, pieces of flayed wings made up the vast majority of its shape twisted about it to give it not two but six wings in total. When we first approached the monster was dormant, its wings wrapped about it like a huge bone stitched bat, yet to be given life by the ritualists.
Seaworth was standing up front and center giving speeches among the other leaders of the Houses, whipping up their forces ready for the battle to come. His words were bold and strike many orcs as not entirely what they had signed up for. When we had been assured we would be part of a defence of Maldraxxus against Rebels, he spoke of Conquest and when they mentioned the creature we had aided them building. It was referred to as a ‘Doomsday weapon’, something did not ring true.
The orcs found themselves with more questions than answers at Seaworths battle speech.
Sagewind who stood alongside them had little to say on the matter, he was not as motivated by those speakers as the rest merely murmuring ‘Bear in mind the words I spoke before’
Loud cheers continue as the green Necromantic energies swirl and glow above them, pouring down in a show of otherworldly magic that with the aid of ritualists brought the dormant construct to life. The monstrous creature flapped its huge wings and sent many sprawling to the deck. Its roar was louder than summer thunder.
As the monster took to the skies, it was time for the Horde of Constructs and ritualists to depart. Their leaders gave them a buoyant command to ‘March!’ and they were all too keen to obey.
That was our call to leave alongside them. Sagewind secured for us mounts, great Tauralus. Undead bull-like monsters with saddles. tall as Kodo and much less placid but they would do.
---
Riding out among the crowds the orcs were paid little heed by their fellows. The Constructs surged along the road keen for glory and to make their names upon the battlefield ahead. Maldraxxus skies boiled and twisted as the winds picked up making flying for the wind riders troublesome but not impossible.
Upon the journey the clan passed by an immense fighting arena, curious eyes drawn to peer between the arches of the immense halls. This arena was larger than some towns in Durotar but seemed quiet on the eve of the battle, the hollow halls echoed with the boot steps of the armies marching past it. There was no time to investigate it further.
Chieftain Feraleye, riding atop a particularly huge Tauralus, marshalled the orcs ever onwards, keeping the pack together as best he could. While Skywise above reported the marching army’s progress. All roads seemed to funnel the warriors toward a vast bridge on the other side of the Arena and beyond to the feet of a great skeletal statue sitting down among the hills themselves - this must be the seat of the Primus that the speakers had mentioned.
Ahead of the army, Necropolis had begun firing salvo of green magical energy at the defenders who mustered along the ramparts ready to give their life for their cause. This was no mere rebel faction it seemed but quite a formidable army in its own right, who were doggedly hunkered down in their fortress-like encampment.
---
It was not long before the orcs found themselves at the foot of the bridge. Formed up on mounts and peering down the void of empty space between the armies. Larger constructs occasionally jostled for position, eager for the charge and desperate almost to be the first into the melee. The air was tense, filled with anticipation bordering on excitement for the battle to come. Mounts whine, construct blades shine and leaders exchange harsh words over the void of no man's land.
Seaworth was keen to berate an orcish leader on the Necrolord side.
Though few of the orcs could make out the detail of the orc that he spoke so bitterly at.
Then something changed, weapons were raised. A Cheer went up and the charge began. Both sides screaming ‘For Maldraxxus’ as they run forwards. The orcs charge too, buffeted along in the first surge of the battle.
As the charge rushes forward, the defenders launch the first salvo of green flamed shot from catapults and ballista on their battlements. The shots erupt in flame among the front ranks, shrapnel and flames even striking some of the Red Blade from their mounts but it does not halt the charge. There is barely a dent made in the advancing armies ranks.
Orcs are quick to spread along the frontline as the Necrolords become almost indistinguishable from Constructs and others among the brutal melee. Dozens of the undead were cut down before the orcs, while Rhonya Steelheart hauled Karak Stormsong and his son onto her wolf to rejoin the others. Only then to have him save Takkat Warwolf the moment he reached the melee.
High above them a terrible shrill cry could be heard, the winged monster made for this battle swooped down and fired a great green ray of fiery doom into the back ranks of the defenders. Almost immediately as they scream and wail in flames, the attacking constructs cheer on their monster. Revelling in the sight of such a champion.
‘Witness the sight of the enemy falling before our might!’ One attacker called but they seemed to be given little heed as the orcs continued to forge their own path in the chaos of the battle engulfing them.
Drastal Halfbuk raged with the fury of a forge, losing himself in the scrum to bloodfury. Other orcs were less fortunate, the blind seer Kogra Windwatcher became victim to several blows, one attacker leaping onto the shaman with axe in hand to plant it into their shoulder before they could be torn away by Skywise.
It is only in these moments do the orcs become aware of the hostile skies whipping up about them. A soulstorm seemed to be blowing in across the bridge, while it seemed not to hinder the great monstrosity terrorizing the skies above. It begins to be felt by those upon the ground, touching the edges of the bridge and pulling some warriors up and into the winds ‘Ride the wind!’ they call as if seeming to know what the Soulstorm is. Others are smashed against each other violently.
Another wave of defenders surged into the front lines and that is when the air darkened and the full force of the Soulstorm was felt. Ripping the smaller orcs from their feet, Keshrakk and some of the animal companions of the orcs are lifted. Some intentional, Skywise throwing Windwatcher into the saddle and getting in the skies to fly them both to safety.
Debris and violent attackers take their toll as the wind buffets across the battlefield. Keshrakk the child is plucked out of the air along with Tyranni the dinosaur and brought to ground. Told to hide and keep from the fighting - who brings a child to a siege anyways?
---
The storm passed leaving attacker and defender bruised in its wake.
Maldraxxi picked themselves up from the ground and continued to wage their wars against each other. The orcs for the most part do the same, cutting down the last few defenders before another wave can launch itself into them.
It is at this point the Necrolords are losing ground, focusing fire on the monstrosity owning the skies above them. It paid off for the defenders as several expert shots connected with the flying beast, clipping its wings and bringing it to ground several meters ahead of the frontlines. The bolts fired contained chains and these chains stopped the monster getting back in the skies above.
Sagewind seemed to defend Thronk from the debris kicked up as the monster crashed to the floor but the Construct had other plans - suddenly rushing across the lines. He made it through safely as if the enemy defenders parted for him and joined in the swarm of Necrolords hacking at the monster. With chains gained from the Necromancers tower several nights ago he headed directly to the heart of the monster, wrapping them about it and using their power to seemingly drain the anima from the creature.
Whatever he was doing it seemed to have worked, the creature seemed to lose control. It reared its two heads with a violent yank and tore itself free of the defenders. Green billowed in its throat and it fired a burst of green flame onto those in front of it, defender or attacker. Before charging for the armies fighting on the bridge and seemingly also the Red Blade.
---
There was nowhere to hide as debris and flame came for the orcs, heroic saves were made across the lines, the orcs were looking tired now. Many were on the floor bleeding with Steelheart doing her best to mend and keep them stable. It is at this point that Verzan Skywise utters the words ‘I have a plan’ and the remaining fighting orcs listen as the Elite explains.
Take the rope we have and attach it to the biggest fallen constructs and lasso the other end around the winged monstrosity. It was a long shot but it couldn’t fly, kicking the corpses off the bridge would hopefully drag the creature away before it could crash into the clan.
Chieftain Feraleye and Thronk attempted to secure lines to construct bodies, Skywise and Warwolf attempted the messy business of getting rope on the monster end of things. While Bamm who had been doggedly fighting his way through the conflict, lay wounded blasting away one of the monstrous constructs heads and made it actually easier to rope.
It was Warwolf who heroically threw herself at the creature to secure the line but the orcs couldn’t stop the beast charging one last time. Even as the young Naroda woundedly joined Chieftain, Skywise, wyvern and Thronk on the floor pushing corpses. It wasn’t enough.
There was almost relief as the corpses tipped over the bridge, the rope snapping tense and then sharply dragging its hostile form over the edge with them. Disposed of and defeated.
---
The constructs and their allies were however now sounding out the withdrawal from the bridge. The defenders had won the hour as fighting morale slipped away from the bridge like their destroyed monster so did any support the clan shared with their ‘allies’
Too many Red Blade were on the floor.
The Elite called the Nag’Ogar to make a stand, to buy the orcs a chance to get clear but it was in vain the forces they faced were too numerous and the orcs themselves more than a little battle weary. Steelheart stood over Stormsong seemingly able to wield strange green flames at her palms in defence, she held ground before trying desperately to carry Stormsong from the bridge.
While others like Naroda, Bamm and Felhammer were too injured to give much fight at the incoming surge of victorious defenders.
There was simply no choice, the Necrolords were keen to take some captives even as the orcs were witness to them executing Constructs around them. Some were simply too injured to stop themselves being taken while others fought until they could not hold a sword any longer. Even keshrakk was found and hauled like a sack of violent wheat into the custody of the Necrolords.
The clan were captured. The Siege at the seat lost.
--Verzan Skywise--
Nag’Ogar Elite, Red Blade Clan.
#47
The Campfire / Re: Campaign: Shadows Over Sha...
Last post by Verzan - March 09, 2021, 08:00:35 PMShadowlands Report: Literacy, Magic and Empowerment
It would be a long night - perhaps we should have known this when the Lich approached with their chittering gaggle of robed ritualists to deploy us on yet another task.
The ritualists had forced their way into a nearby tower, getting past the main door but they seemed reluctant to enter themselves, rather they would sooner we went in their place. This wasn’t an easy sell for them and the Red Blade orcs present made it clear that they were more than just skivvies for doing this sort of partially suicidal busy work for these creatures. However after a heated debate with the lich, the orcs had been reassured they would get their passage to Oribos and things would be ‘fine’
With the temptation of forbidden knowledge in some ancient Necromancers tower and a potential chance to learn more about the Shadowlands the orcs had their own reasons for agreeing to go.
We had been tasked with the recovery of three orbs of ‘Anima’
---
The Journey to the tower was uneventful, the landscape beyond the House of Constructs continuing to be a bleak mixture of slime covered rocks, fungus and bone. The skies were still a harsh twilight that refused to be greeted by dawn. Lurid pools of toxic green sludge littered the fields before the tower that was as described open at the front doors but little explored within.
The air that leaked from the open door smelt musty and of old papers. Like I would expect particularly old mages and conjurers to scent if you got close to sniff one. The untouched place did not lack for movement as at the middle of the dark room beyond books floated upon enchanted magics, sorting and resorting themselves. But never in height order - that is an illogical aesthetic done only to make librarians scream in misery.
Orcs ventured in past the seal of the door that had been so rudely torn open by the Ritualists, I have no idea what they did to it but it must have been powerful. We stepped in expecting there to be traps, as our eyes adjusted to the dim light of green flame nothing seemed to move but the books.
Books that flapped their pages at us and attacked.
With the magic from Enrah and Dusklight on our side some of the attacking papers were disenchanted, sucked dry of their unholy and shadow magics before they could really do damage. While others cast spells of Fel flame, ice bolts and thorny vines. One even turned Torm Sagewind into a polymorphed sheep.
These books found themselves cut down by axes from some and arrows from the Chieftain and Naroda. As soon as Takkat Warwolf had cleaved her axe through the final floating angry book a warding seemed to drop at the far side of the room that granted us access to a staircase.
---
The stairs led upwards and onto another level of the tower. Gingerly the orcs stepped forwards, not trusting the steps they placed their boots upon. They could have been trapped or worse. Mages and Necromancers alike are not known for wanting to share their spells nor knowledge with anyone.
Dusklight was the last to head upwards, the scholar seeming invested in scouring the shelves for forbidden knowledge he might learn but the ground floor seemed to hold only the least interesting of books.
Upon the next level ghostly hands floated between the shelves. Anima constructs seemingly tasked with the never ending duty of sorting the shelves, some orcs swatted them and they appeared to reset back to a particular font in the room before attempting to return to their duties.
High above the orcs several fragments of key hung and a mould. It wasn’t clear why they were up there but if you are a master mage I would expect that you can float your way up to retrieve them to access the higher levels of your tower. Several plans were enacted, the Ebon Knight moving books and chairs to pile up a sort of launch pad of sorts orcs could climb while hands moved to try and resort things.
It was precarious at best but Dusklight had a better plan. Using Levitation the orcs would send someone up to collect the keys for them. The youngling Naroda bluntly refused and many of the orcs seemed quite heavily armoured for flying - Takkat Warwolf eventually volunteered to go up.
And quickly recovered the key fragments, pushing them into the mold with Dusklights expert handling of the floaty magics.
Meanwhile those below raided bookshelves and stood guard expecting more trouble to happen when the key was created. Thankfully none came and upon opening the locked door that would take them further up the tower the orcs found another winding staircase that would allow them to reach what appeared to be the top of the tower.
---
At this unusual tower top rested a Cauldron in the middle of the room, an ominous purple liquid bubbling within. There was no scent to be concerned about though none were keen to touch the liquid and find out if it were anything truly harmful.
Examining the rest of the room the orcs found three basins marked with runic script, the Ebon Knight could read this and explained ‘Do not fill above marked line’
With that knowledge, it became clear something would happen when the orcs filled the three basins with the purple liquid. At first the orcs mused over what to use as a scoop, some suggested Pauldrons on their armour and others removed gloves. Then finally Sagewind and Chieftain Feraleye seemed to have a better plan - to move the Cauldron itself from the middle. With Soulwalker acting as look out making sure the orcs did not overflow each basin.
It was a tricky feat at first but as the cauldron became lighter the task became a little more trivial until completed - though it still took almost every orc and construct in the room with the exception of Dusklight and Soulwalker to haul.
As soon as the three basins were filled with purple, a strange gas began to emerge. Thick and heavy it clung to the ground like ominous fog, moving with a will of its own to one corner of the room where it congealed. As those who breathe hurriedly covered their faces, the gas coalesced, shifting and changing before becoming a more solid form - a secret doorway leading to stairs and a hidden room above.
--
Treading lightly we approached the hidden chamber, which appeared to be something of a forgotten bed room. Discarded cushions, a bed and signs of habitation long ago dressed the room before us. When suddenly the Ebon Knight who had been poking around trying to detect the presence of magics grabbed something in the air, her plated mit wrapped around a ghostly spectre and dragged it into the visible world.
The apparition seemed to shimmer and flicker, an after image of the lich that once lived in residence here. Soulwalker described it as not rea,l a construct of Anima, and no sooner had she spoken than suddenly the fight was on.
The apparition shot spells of magic out at the orcs who fought back in kind against the displeased home owner. Thorny roots attempted to bind them. Spells of fel fire and ice merged and exploded about them and still the orcs fought on.
Orcs simply devastated the apparition image of the lich, it was barely stable after such intense fighting from the orcs. As its power seemed to wane from damage and the draining effects of a hungry Runeblade keen in its taste for Anima. The apparition held one last magical trick in its array of spells -- it distorted the very ‘time’ in the room.
For five seconds the orcs feel able to see all possible actions and outcomes, failures and successes. Overwhelming to some and impossible to comprehend to others the youngest Naroda seems quick of her heels to slide across the icey stones of the room and fires a shot into the face of the apparition - taking it down with nothing more than a simple arrow.
As the apparition dies, vanishing for the most part and yet magic from the construct pours a way outside. Flinging itself outward from the window balcony of the tower.
--
Sagewind seems convinced that the way forward isn’t a sheer drop down the length of the very tall tower but a hidden portal. To prove this the construct throws himself off the tower and upon reaching about half way down vanishes - nobody seems entirely convinced.
As Chieftain Feraleye put it ‘If I am to do something as stupid as this. I have no desire to overthink it. WITNESS!’ he would say before hurling himself from the balcony. Alongside all orcs present for this tower assault.
With a rush of wind and a turning stomach each found the portal and were swiftly transported to the inner sanctum of the spell casters home. Lofty and quiet, bathed in the green glow of Maldraxxi anima the room contained three huge glowing orbs at its center among the many bookcases and other unusual items you might expect to find in a mage's lair. The most notable of these things being strange chains.
The orcs approached the orbs with uncertainty, while some bickered in the background about whether the Ebon Knight should ever be allowed to touch them - it seemed to make its own mind up to collect chains. Alongside Sagewind and Warwolf.
It was the young orc Naroda who handled the anima orbs first. Followed by the Chieftain and then Warwolf. Encouraged of course by Sagewind to do so and bid words of caution about the volume of anima they were handling. As soon as the orcs would leave this place there would be other powerful beings able to sense the anima’s presence and hold nothing back in their desire to have it.
Point made. The orcs did not dawdle. They left the tower with their treasures of orbs, chains and books. Sharing cautionary words about the dangers of forbidden knowledge.
---
A single chittering ritualist and its skeletal cronies waited for our return expectantly back at the camp. Its beady eyes peered at the orbs as if we carried in our arms the purest gold and it was at this point our Chieftain reminded these Constructs that our willingness to offer our aid in tasks was not to be abused.
He reminded them by threatening to withhold the anima we had just found and the exchange became somewhat more heated than the Ritualist had anticipated. After all with this much rare Anima in the clan’s control, they could likely find an alternative route to Oribos.
The skeletal figures warned the belligerent Chieftain not to test them and Feraleye reminded them in no uncertain terms that our clan were not to be trifled with, after all we win our battles and anyone here in this land had already died once. With a stern reminder that we expected results for this, he rolled the orb over to the creatures to be deposited in the chest, shortly followed by the others.
With much grumbling, the skeletal creatures took their chest of anima and scuttled back towards the House of Constructs, seemingly berating Sagewind for the terse response they had received from the orcs tonight.
--Anon--
It would be a long night - perhaps we should have known this when the Lich approached with their chittering gaggle of robed ritualists to deploy us on yet another task.
The ritualists had forced their way into a nearby tower, getting past the main door but they seemed reluctant to enter themselves, rather they would sooner we went in their place. This wasn’t an easy sell for them and the Red Blade orcs present made it clear that they were more than just skivvies for doing this sort of partially suicidal busy work for these creatures. However after a heated debate with the lich, the orcs had been reassured they would get their passage to Oribos and things would be ‘fine’
With the temptation of forbidden knowledge in some ancient Necromancers tower and a potential chance to learn more about the Shadowlands the orcs had their own reasons for agreeing to go.
We had been tasked with the recovery of three orbs of ‘Anima’
---
The Journey to the tower was uneventful, the landscape beyond the House of Constructs continuing to be a bleak mixture of slime covered rocks, fungus and bone. The skies were still a harsh twilight that refused to be greeted by dawn. Lurid pools of toxic green sludge littered the fields before the tower that was as described open at the front doors but little explored within.
The air that leaked from the open door smelt musty and of old papers. Like I would expect particularly old mages and conjurers to scent if you got close to sniff one. The untouched place did not lack for movement as at the middle of the dark room beyond books floated upon enchanted magics, sorting and resorting themselves. But never in height order - that is an illogical aesthetic done only to make librarians scream in misery.
Orcs ventured in past the seal of the door that had been so rudely torn open by the Ritualists, I have no idea what they did to it but it must have been powerful. We stepped in expecting there to be traps, as our eyes adjusted to the dim light of green flame nothing seemed to move but the books.
Books that flapped their pages at us and attacked.
With the magic from Enrah and Dusklight on our side some of the attacking papers were disenchanted, sucked dry of their unholy and shadow magics before they could really do damage. While others cast spells of Fel flame, ice bolts and thorny vines. One even turned Torm Sagewind into a polymorphed sheep.
These books found themselves cut down by axes from some and arrows from the Chieftain and Naroda. As soon as Takkat Warwolf had cleaved her axe through the final floating angry book a warding seemed to drop at the far side of the room that granted us access to a staircase.
---
The stairs led upwards and onto another level of the tower. Gingerly the orcs stepped forwards, not trusting the steps they placed their boots upon. They could have been trapped or worse. Mages and Necromancers alike are not known for wanting to share their spells nor knowledge with anyone.
Dusklight was the last to head upwards, the scholar seeming invested in scouring the shelves for forbidden knowledge he might learn but the ground floor seemed to hold only the least interesting of books.
Upon the next level ghostly hands floated between the shelves. Anima constructs seemingly tasked with the never ending duty of sorting the shelves, some orcs swatted them and they appeared to reset back to a particular font in the room before attempting to return to their duties.
High above the orcs several fragments of key hung and a mould. It wasn’t clear why they were up there but if you are a master mage I would expect that you can float your way up to retrieve them to access the higher levels of your tower. Several plans were enacted, the Ebon Knight moving books and chairs to pile up a sort of launch pad of sorts orcs could climb while hands moved to try and resort things.
It was precarious at best but Dusklight had a better plan. Using Levitation the orcs would send someone up to collect the keys for them. The youngling Naroda bluntly refused and many of the orcs seemed quite heavily armoured for flying - Takkat Warwolf eventually volunteered to go up.
And quickly recovered the key fragments, pushing them into the mold with Dusklights expert handling of the floaty magics.
Meanwhile those below raided bookshelves and stood guard expecting more trouble to happen when the key was created. Thankfully none came and upon opening the locked door that would take them further up the tower the orcs found another winding staircase that would allow them to reach what appeared to be the top of the tower.
---
At this unusual tower top rested a Cauldron in the middle of the room, an ominous purple liquid bubbling within. There was no scent to be concerned about though none were keen to touch the liquid and find out if it were anything truly harmful.
Examining the rest of the room the orcs found three basins marked with runic script, the Ebon Knight could read this and explained ‘Do not fill above marked line’
With that knowledge, it became clear something would happen when the orcs filled the three basins with the purple liquid. At first the orcs mused over what to use as a scoop, some suggested Pauldrons on their armour and others removed gloves. Then finally Sagewind and Chieftain Feraleye seemed to have a better plan - to move the Cauldron itself from the middle. With Soulwalker acting as look out making sure the orcs did not overflow each basin.
It was a tricky feat at first but as the cauldron became lighter the task became a little more trivial until completed - though it still took almost every orc and construct in the room with the exception of Dusklight and Soulwalker to haul.
As soon as the three basins were filled with purple, a strange gas began to emerge. Thick and heavy it clung to the ground like ominous fog, moving with a will of its own to one corner of the room where it congealed. As those who breathe hurriedly covered their faces, the gas coalesced, shifting and changing before becoming a more solid form - a secret doorway leading to stairs and a hidden room above.
--
Treading lightly we approached the hidden chamber, which appeared to be something of a forgotten bed room. Discarded cushions, a bed and signs of habitation long ago dressed the room before us. When suddenly the Ebon Knight who had been poking around trying to detect the presence of magics grabbed something in the air, her plated mit wrapped around a ghostly spectre and dragged it into the visible world.
The apparition seemed to shimmer and flicker, an after image of the lich that once lived in residence here. Soulwalker described it as not rea,l a construct of Anima, and no sooner had she spoken than suddenly the fight was on.
The apparition shot spells of magic out at the orcs who fought back in kind against the displeased home owner. Thorny roots attempted to bind them. Spells of fel fire and ice merged and exploded about them and still the orcs fought on.
Orcs simply devastated the apparition image of the lich, it was barely stable after such intense fighting from the orcs. As its power seemed to wane from damage and the draining effects of a hungry Runeblade keen in its taste for Anima. The apparition held one last magical trick in its array of spells -- it distorted the very ‘time’ in the room.
For five seconds the orcs feel able to see all possible actions and outcomes, failures and successes. Overwhelming to some and impossible to comprehend to others the youngest Naroda seems quick of her heels to slide across the icey stones of the room and fires a shot into the face of the apparition - taking it down with nothing more than a simple arrow.
As the apparition dies, vanishing for the most part and yet magic from the construct pours a way outside. Flinging itself outward from the window balcony of the tower.
--
Sagewind seems convinced that the way forward isn’t a sheer drop down the length of the very tall tower but a hidden portal. To prove this the construct throws himself off the tower and upon reaching about half way down vanishes - nobody seems entirely convinced.
As Chieftain Feraleye put it ‘If I am to do something as stupid as this. I have no desire to overthink it. WITNESS!’ he would say before hurling himself from the balcony. Alongside all orcs present for this tower assault.
With a rush of wind and a turning stomach each found the portal and were swiftly transported to the inner sanctum of the spell casters home. Lofty and quiet, bathed in the green glow of Maldraxxi anima the room contained three huge glowing orbs at its center among the many bookcases and other unusual items you might expect to find in a mage's lair. The most notable of these things being strange chains.
The orcs approached the orbs with uncertainty, while some bickered in the background about whether the Ebon Knight should ever be allowed to touch them - it seemed to make its own mind up to collect chains. Alongside Sagewind and Warwolf.
It was the young orc Naroda who handled the anima orbs first. Followed by the Chieftain and then Warwolf. Encouraged of course by Sagewind to do so and bid words of caution about the volume of anima they were handling. As soon as the orcs would leave this place there would be other powerful beings able to sense the anima’s presence and hold nothing back in their desire to have it.
Point made. The orcs did not dawdle. They left the tower with their treasures of orbs, chains and books. Sharing cautionary words about the dangers of forbidden knowledge.
---
A single chittering ritualist and its skeletal cronies waited for our return expectantly back at the camp. Its beady eyes peered at the orbs as if we carried in our arms the purest gold and it was at this point our Chieftain reminded these Constructs that our willingness to offer our aid in tasks was not to be abused.
He reminded them by threatening to withhold the anima we had just found and the exchange became somewhat more heated than the Ritualist had anticipated. After all with this much rare Anima in the clan’s control, they could likely find an alternative route to Oribos.
The skeletal figures warned the belligerent Chieftain not to test them and Feraleye reminded them in no uncertain terms that our clan were not to be trifled with, after all we win our battles and anyone here in this land had already died once. With a stern reminder that we expected results for this, he rolled the orb over to the creatures to be deposited in the chest, shortly followed by the others.
With much grumbling, the skeletal creatures took their chest of anima and scuttled back towards the House of Constructs, seemingly berating Sagewind for the terse response they had received from the orcs tonight.
--Anon--
#48
The Campfire / A Realm Unknown
Last post by Rhonya - February 28, 2021, 11:38:56 PMThe twisting magic swirled around and around, a noise like a wind howling in her ears. She had kept her eyes open for the first seconds but squeezed them shut quickly after, the twisting and turning combined with the flashes and sights making her nauseous. What was going on? Was this how it was supposed to go?
Kyrazha couldn’t hear the rest of the clan anymore. Something slammed against her, almost knocking her out. A second later she heard a loud snarl and felt fur brush against her, but when she opened her eyes it was all darkness. With a feeling as if she was being pulled inside out, a very sudden bright, blue light engulfed her and whatever had held her in its grip spat her out against something solid.
Heaving and gasping for breath, Kyrazha tried to get her bearing. However, her head was spinning, something wet and warm was running over her face and her head felt like it was about to split open. So she lay there, breathing hard, just...feeling. There was something alike to grass under her, she could feel it with her hands. Odd smells penetrated her nose, but she couldn’t place them. One she knew. Blood. Her own blood.
There were sounds around her everywhere. Wildlife, the pattering of tiny paws, the sound of wind brushing through leaves.
Stand up, Stalker. We’re not alone.
Finally Kyrazha opened her eyes. Blotches of white and black danced through her vision and it took her a few seconds to be able to stand up. Even then, the world swirled around her. A low snarl sounded, coming from her own throat, a little too wolflike to be orc alone.
I feel you, Striker. You’re more clear than ever.
You’re in my realm now, little one. The spirit realm.
With a huff, Kyrazha focused, pushing the dark brown wolfmask that was on her head a little further back so it wasn’t blocking any of her sight. The world around her was dark, but the longer she looked, the clearer it got. Pinpricks of little glowing lights made themselves known around her, coming from the grass, oddly enough. As if that wasn’t weird enough, when Kyrazha looked up, she saw huge, twisted circular trees with bright, blue lights coming from them.
What was this place? Her back was close to one of the massive trees, pressing against it to help her keep her balance as she was still swaying unsteadily on her feet. So that was what she had gotten smacked into, coming here.
On her head she found a wound, right above her temple, hidden in the mass of red dreadlocks. It was still bleeding, but she wasn’t too worried about that.
She’d been warned she wasn’t alone. But looking around, Kyrazha didn’t see anyone. Or anything, for that matter. Grumbling, the grey she-orc reached for her bow that was luckily still on her back, together with her quiver and most of her arrows.
Up ahead.
Kyrazha stayed low to the ground. Anything in this strange land could be a threat. And she was alone, no sight of the rest of the clan here. Had something gone wrong in the ritual?
There was no time to dwell on it as a weird noise made itself known nearby. Kyrazha didn’t wait to see what it was, but moved in the other direction instead, away from it. She was in no condition to fight right now, unless she really couldn’t avoid it. The little lights in the plants threw her off a bit. Plants were not supposed to glow.
The world was strange, unknown. While being used to weird and unknown places, this one confused Kyrazha greatly. It took her a few hours to find a place where she could rest for a moment and felt relatively safe. Hidden between two roots of the large tree, she cleaned her head wound as well as she could with some water she’d taken from a small pond nearby. Even the water was strange, too clear, too clean. She had seen some traces of animals, but they appeared to be avoiding her as much as she was avoiding them. The only thing she’d seen were creatures like some kind of moths, high in the sky. She rested there, hidden from the strange world around her, alone.
A few days passed. Kyrazha found out there was enough wildlife here after all, if you knew where to look. Hunting wasn’t an issue, getting water was easy too. She had traveled further, but she had no idea where she was going.
No sign of the clan, at all. Nothing. No sign of Sharguul either. Where was everyone?
After a week, Kyrazha had determined there were towns here, of a sort. Or camps, was perhaps a better discription. Trees that walked, strange creatures with hooves and horns that certainly knew how to handle a weapon, but had kind, soft eyes. She kept out of their sight, though sometimes she felt as if she was being watched. But Striker was quiet, so she wasn’t too worried.
Another week of being alone. There were odd places here, patches of the woods that were dying, the places being tunneled by big, massive worms of a sort which most certainly did not look friendly. She was sure to stay away from those places. They felt utterly wrong to her.
More days passed, more days of fending for herself and surviving in this strange realm. She’d seen spirits, spirits of animals. But also the hooved creatures and a centaur variant, but wearing odd, wooden masks. The softness from their eyes was gone. She avoided them, too.
Until at one point something tugged at her. Something called to her. No, not to her. To Striker.
It was time to hunt.
Kyrazha found her quarry not too far away, in the camp she’d been keeping an eye on. The camp was crawling with the masked beings, which she had determined were not friendly, unlike their brethren who wore no masks. However, she was called to the edge on the other side, so she made her way quietly through the bushes until she reached the place. There was one hooved being, hunching over a dark shape…
Before Kyrazha could determine what it was, the being moved, its eyes focused right on her.
“You are mine!!†was all it snarled before it attacked, violently, jumping right into the bush Kyrazha was in. There was almost no time to respond as the dagger the creature was holding dug itself right into Kyrazha’s shoulder, pinning her to a piece of bark on the ground beneath her. She was stuck.
How had it known-?! No time. With an underhand movement Kyrazha pulled her own dagger from the bindings around her leg, kneeing the creature in the gut in the process before slashing out with the dagger. A lucky strike across the chest made the creature slump forwards enough for Kyrazha to bite at its throat and hold on until it stopped thrashing around.
Panting, covered in blood and stuck on the ground now with a corpse draped over her, Kyrazha snarled softly. Well wasn’t this wonderful.
With a snort she used her good arm to push the corpse to the side before grabbing the long, twisting daggers heft. Pulling it right out of her shoulder, she growled in pain, baring her teeth and clamping them together to stop herself from crying out. It wouldn’t do to get the entire camp on her head.
Looking around, she found some moss growing against the tree. A handful was enough to fill up the wound and plug the hole there, for now. It hurt like fel. She’d take care of it properly later.
First, that shape.
Moving over, Kyrazha became aware of a low snarl sounding. The creatures side heaving with its breathing. It didn’t look hurt, only dazed. As it lifted its head, Kyrazha knew why it had felt so familiar...
Wild knowing eyes met hers. She wasn't alone anymore after all.
Kyrazha couldn’t hear the rest of the clan anymore. Something slammed against her, almost knocking her out. A second later she heard a loud snarl and felt fur brush against her, but when she opened her eyes it was all darkness. With a feeling as if she was being pulled inside out, a very sudden bright, blue light engulfed her and whatever had held her in its grip spat her out against something solid.
Heaving and gasping for breath, Kyrazha tried to get her bearing. However, her head was spinning, something wet and warm was running over her face and her head felt like it was about to split open. So she lay there, breathing hard, just...feeling. There was something alike to grass under her, she could feel it with her hands. Odd smells penetrated her nose, but she couldn’t place them. One she knew. Blood. Her own blood.
There were sounds around her everywhere. Wildlife, the pattering of tiny paws, the sound of wind brushing through leaves.
Stand up, Stalker. We’re not alone.
Finally Kyrazha opened her eyes. Blotches of white and black danced through her vision and it took her a few seconds to be able to stand up. Even then, the world swirled around her. A low snarl sounded, coming from her own throat, a little too wolflike to be orc alone.
I feel you, Striker. You’re more clear than ever.
You’re in my realm now, little one. The spirit realm.
With a huff, Kyrazha focused, pushing the dark brown wolfmask that was on her head a little further back so it wasn’t blocking any of her sight. The world around her was dark, but the longer she looked, the clearer it got. Pinpricks of little glowing lights made themselves known around her, coming from the grass, oddly enough. As if that wasn’t weird enough, when Kyrazha looked up, she saw huge, twisted circular trees with bright, blue lights coming from them.
What was this place? Her back was close to one of the massive trees, pressing against it to help her keep her balance as she was still swaying unsteadily on her feet. So that was what she had gotten smacked into, coming here.
On her head she found a wound, right above her temple, hidden in the mass of red dreadlocks. It was still bleeding, but she wasn’t too worried about that.
She’d been warned she wasn’t alone. But looking around, Kyrazha didn’t see anyone. Or anything, for that matter. Grumbling, the grey she-orc reached for her bow that was luckily still on her back, together with her quiver and most of her arrows.
Up ahead.
Kyrazha stayed low to the ground. Anything in this strange land could be a threat. And she was alone, no sight of the rest of the clan here. Had something gone wrong in the ritual?
There was no time to dwell on it as a weird noise made itself known nearby. Kyrazha didn’t wait to see what it was, but moved in the other direction instead, away from it. She was in no condition to fight right now, unless she really couldn’t avoid it. The little lights in the plants threw her off a bit. Plants were not supposed to glow.
The world was strange, unknown. While being used to weird and unknown places, this one confused Kyrazha greatly. It took her a few hours to find a place where she could rest for a moment and felt relatively safe. Hidden between two roots of the large tree, she cleaned her head wound as well as she could with some water she’d taken from a small pond nearby. Even the water was strange, too clear, too clean. She had seen some traces of animals, but they appeared to be avoiding her as much as she was avoiding them. The only thing she’d seen were creatures like some kind of moths, high in the sky. She rested there, hidden from the strange world around her, alone.
A few days passed. Kyrazha found out there was enough wildlife here after all, if you knew where to look. Hunting wasn’t an issue, getting water was easy too. She had traveled further, but she had no idea where she was going.
No sign of the clan, at all. Nothing. No sign of Sharguul either. Where was everyone?
After a week, Kyrazha had determined there were towns here, of a sort. Or camps, was perhaps a better discription. Trees that walked, strange creatures with hooves and horns that certainly knew how to handle a weapon, but had kind, soft eyes. She kept out of their sight, though sometimes she felt as if she was being watched. But Striker was quiet, so she wasn’t too worried.
Another week of being alone. There were odd places here, patches of the woods that were dying, the places being tunneled by big, massive worms of a sort which most certainly did not look friendly. She was sure to stay away from those places. They felt utterly wrong to her.
More days passed, more days of fending for herself and surviving in this strange realm. She’d seen spirits, spirits of animals. But also the hooved creatures and a centaur variant, but wearing odd, wooden masks. The softness from their eyes was gone. She avoided them, too.
Until at one point something tugged at her. Something called to her. No, not to her. To Striker.
It was time to hunt.
Kyrazha found her quarry not too far away, in the camp she’d been keeping an eye on. The camp was crawling with the masked beings, which she had determined were not friendly, unlike their brethren who wore no masks. However, she was called to the edge on the other side, so she made her way quietly through the bushes until she reached the place. There was one hooved being, hunching over a dark shape…
Before Kyrazha could determine what it was, the being moved, its eyes focused right on her.
“You are mine!!†was all it snarled before it attacked, violently, jumping right into the bush Kyrazha was in. There was almost no time to respond as the dagger the creature was holding dug itself right into Kyrazha’s shoulder, pinning her to a piece of bark on the ground beneath her. She was stuck.
How had it known-?! No time. With an underhand movement Kyrazha pulled her own dagger from the bindings around her leg, kneeing the creature in the gut in the process before slashing out with the dagger. A lucky strike across the chest made the creature slump forwards enough for Kyrazha to bite at its throat and hold on until it stopped thrashing around.
Panting, covered in blood and stuck on the ground now with a corpse draped over her, Kyrazha snarled softly. Well wasn’t this wonderful.
With a snort she used her good arm to push the corpse to the side before grabbing the long, twisting daggers heft. Pulling it right out of her shoulder, she growled in pain, baring her teeth and clamping them together to stop herself from crying out. It wouldn’t do to get the entire camp on her head.
Looking around, she found some moss growing against the tree. A handful was enough to fill up the wound and plug the hole there, for now. It hurt like fel. She’d take care of it properly later.
First, that shape.
Moving over, Kyrazha became aware of a low snarl sounding. The creatures side heaving with its breathing. It didn’t look hurt, only dazed. As it lifted its head, Kyrazha knew why it had felt so familiar...
Wild knowing eyes met hers. She wasn't alone anymore after all.
#49
Contact Us / Re: A RP Propositon!
Last post by Crowmore - February 17, 2021, 11:47:00 PMWonderful to hear!
We will wait with anticipation for your answer!
Until then, best wishes!
We will wait with anticipation for your answer!
Until then, best wishes!
#50
Contact Us / Re: A RP Propositon!
Last post by Vraxxar - February 17, 2021, 12:31:23 PMGreetings Crowmore!
Your proposition has very much been read, as we have been discussing it among us since it came up! So we will let you know as soon as we have come to a decision!
Until then I hope the best for you and the Crimson Covenant!
Your proposition has very much been read, as we have been discussing it among us since it came up! So we will let you know as soon as we have come to a decision!
Until then I hope the best for you and the Crimson Covenant!