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#91
The Campfire / A Raven’s Trial pt 1
Last post by Karnna - September 19, 2020, 06:09:28 PMKarnna looked out across Alterac with a forlorn sigh, The clear sky allowed her a beautiful view of the valley stretching out in front of her.
She had forgotten how long she had been home for yet still she felt very alone. She returned with her brother Zarok and his friends after they had been captured and enslaved by dark forces, she had hoped to rebuild bridges with them however it had been, trying. Their cruel masters had forced them to take a diet of addictive substances to ensure they would stay and not attempt to flee, the elders of the Frostwolves had been doing their best to help them overcome this addiction but it was not easy matter.
However despite everything Karnna had gone, stil was still ostracised by the others. Many had learnt of her use of shadow magic and her disrespect of others. So as the elders tended Zarok and his friends with great care, Karnna was left to her own devices.
Now she sat on a hill with only Blackfrost by her side, she had abandoned her assassin’s leathers for traditional Frostwolf garb. With a sigh Karnna’s thoughts turned to that of her sister, Kulgha, she wondered if Mugen was keeping a good watch over her, had she been enjoying the festival with the rest of the clan? Did they even care that she was gone. Would it be better if she stayed here? These dark thoughts constantly bombarded her.
The few times she had been able to speak with her brother again, his moods had been, turnablance, going quickly from angry and frustrated to melancholy and depressed. They had at least come to some understanding, both had made mistakes, that they wanted to put right and neither wanted to part again on a bitter note. However the elders kept them apart mainly to give him time to recover, leaving Karnna mainly wandering the outskirts of the village alone.
“Come on, let’s see if we can’t visit Zarok†Karnna spoke to Blackfrost, her half Frostwolf mount and companion maybe the only thing to never abandon her since she was a child. “Going so soon? And I only just got here†came a smooth accented voice from behind Karnna, as she quickly turned around she saw a tall human man with near pitch black skin with hair just as dark yet silver streaks running across it. His piercing blue eyes staring at her, Karnna would normally had reached for a weapon at this point had it been anyone else, but she knew this man, he had her mentor, a father figure and good friend for many years, Azir Al-khan, one of Ravenholdt’s masters of assassins.
“What are you doing here?!†Karnna hissed, “If any one saw us together I’m the one who going to get in trouble†Karnna quickly scan the area around them, she had not strayed that far from the village, and she could see make out the watchtower at the gate, hoping the sentry was asleep at his post. Azhir laughed musically “You’ve always been overly worried my dear child, I would never intentionally put you in danger, I’m only here to discuss a mission.†He smiled down at her, something Karnna always found unnerving. It was akin to a wolf grinning down at a sheep.
“A mission? I don’t work for Ravenholdt anymore Azhir, you know that†She eyed the master assassin suspiciously, no way he would come all this way to hear no, nor would he wish her to perform a mission for Ravenholdt.
“Unless...this is not a sanctioned mission, is it?†Azhir’s smile never faded “Perhaps not, but I do know it's one you’d be interested in, mainly since it will help your people here†that caught Karnna’s attention. “Alright, say I am interested, what’s the job?†She turned her back on Azhir focusing instead of calming her wolf, who had been snarling at the human since he appeared. “It’s simple really, there is an alliance lieutenant in Stromgarde, one who does not feel the war is over yet, he been leading sorties into Hillsbrad, and pushing to reinforce the dwarves at Stormpike†That, was indeed a concern, even with the armistice, that did not meant an end to the fighting, Stormpike dwarves still attempted to force out the Frostwolves in Alterac and while the Alliance now fully control Arathi they were eager to “Reclaim†other former Alliance territories.
“And what would you gain from removing him?†Karnna questioned, Azhir had never cared for the Alliance or Horde, he had ever been loyal only to Ravenholdt, what was the real reason he wanted this Alliance lieutenant dead?
“You know I can’t tell you unless you agree to the mission, if you truly want nothing to do with this you are free to stay here where your “family†continues to distance themselves from you and hope you can change, or you can come with me, and we can do what we do best.
Karnna remained silent for a while, but in her heart, she knew what she was, she would always be an assassin. “Let’s just get this over with†She said bitterly as the two assassins vanished.
She had forgotten how long she had been home for yet still she felt very alone. She returned with her brother Zarok and his friends after they had been captured and enslaved by dark forces, she had hoped to rebuild bridges with them however it had been, trying. Their cruel masters had forced them to take a diet of addictive substances to ensure they would stay and not attempt to flee, the elders of the Frostwolves had been doing their best to help them overcome this addiction but it was not easy matter.
However despite everything Karnna had gone, stil was still ostracised by the others. Many had learnt of her use of shadow magic and her disrespect of others. So as the elders tended Zarok and his friends with great care, Karnna was left to her own devices.
Now she sat on a hill with only Blackfrost by her side, she had abandoned her assassin’s leathers for traditional Frostwolf garb. With a sigh Karnna’s thoughts turned to that of her sister, Kulgha, she wondered if Mugen was keeping a good watch over her, had she been enjoying the festival with the rest of the clan? Did they even care that she was gone. Would it be better if she stayed here? These dark thoughts constantly bombarded her.
The few times she had been able to speak with her brother again, his moods had been, turnablance, going quickly from angry and frustrated to melancholy and depressed. They had at least come to some understanding, both had made mistakes, that they wanted to put right and neither wanted to part again on a bitter note. However the elders kept them apart mainly to give him time to recover, leaving Karnna mainly wandering the outskirts of the village alone.
“Come on, let’s see if we can’t visit Zarok†Karnna spoke to Blackfrost, her half Frostwolf mount and companion maybe the only thing to never abandon her since she was a child. “Going so soon? And I only just got here†came a smooth accented voice from behind Karnna, as she quickly turned around she saw a tall human man with near pitch black skin with hair just as dark yet silver streaks running across it. His piercing blue eyes staring at her, Karnna would normally had reached for a weapon at this point had it been anyone else, but she knew this man, he had her mentor, a father figure and good friend for many years, Azir Al-khan, one of Ravenholdt’s masters of assassins.
“What are you doing here?!†Karnna hissed, “If any one saw us together I’m the one who going to get in trouble†Karnna quickly scan the area around them, she had not strayed that far from the village, and she could see make out the watchtower at the gate, hoping the sentry was asleep at his post. Azhir laughed musically “You’ve always been overly worried my dear child, I would never intentionally put you in danger, I’m only here to discuss a mission.†He smiled down at her, something Karnna always found unnerving. It was akin to a wolf grinning down at a sheep.
“A mission? I don’t work for Ravenholdt anymore Azhir, you know that†She eyed the master assassin suspiciously, no way he would come all this way to hear no, nor would he wish her to perform a mission for Ravenholdt.
“Unless...this is not a sanctioned mission, is it?†Azhir’s smile never faded “Perhaps not, but I do know it's one you’d be interested in, mainly since it will help your people here†that caught Karnna’s attention. “Alright, say I am interested, what’s the job?†She turned her back on Azhir focusing instead of calming her wolf, who had been snarling at the human since he appeared. “It’s simple really, there is an alliance lieutenant in Stromgarde, one who does not feel the war is over yet, he been leading sorties into Hillsbrad, and pushing to reinforce the dwarves at Stormpike†That, was indeed a concern, even with the armistice, that did not meant an end to the fighting, Stormpike dwarves still attempted to force out the Frostwolves in Alterac and while the Alliance now fully control Arathi they were eager to “Reclaim†other former Alliance territories.
“And what would you gain from removing him?†Karnna questioned, Azhir had never cared for the Alliance or Horde, he had ever been loyal only to Ravenholdt, what was the real reason he wanted this Alliance lieutenant dead?
“You know I can’t tell you unless you agree to the mission, if you truly want nothing to do with this you are free to stay here where your “family†continues to distance themselves from you and hope you can change, or you can come with me, and we can do what we do best.
Karnna remained silent for a while, but in her heart, she knew what she was, she would always be an assassin. “Let’s just get this over with†She said bitterly as the two assassins vanished.
#92
The Campfire / Kosh'harg Dreams
Last post by Rhonya - September 19, 2020, 02:18:35 PMKosh’harg. A time of camaraderie, peace, celebration. Most of all, rest, a time to relax and simply enjoy each others company. Even more so for Srelok Grimtide now. He’d gotten so close to the edge a week ago that he was happy to be alive. Happy to even still be able to celebrate this festival with his clan, his family.
They were not done yet. There were still some things to do, but most of the danger had passed for now. For now, he could simply enjoy the celebrations.
Sinking back into his furs one evening, a smile on his lips as he fell asleep…
Pandaria. A land of hope and dreams since the Sha were defeated. They’d been living here for a while now, away from the clan. Not that she was really a part of them to begin with, but she noticed Srelok missing them often enough. He had a place there, a family, even so he’d chosen to go here instead with her. The outcast, the stranger. Being a half blood had never been easy. The clan accepted them well enough, but for many the feeling remained of being the odd one out either way.
The lands they’d seen were beautiful, recovering after everything that been done to them in the past years. It was a good time, together. Finally they had the time and chance to focus on each other, and only that.
Yet, things never stay the same.
It started in the Vale. Darkness fell over the land once again. But not a natural darkness. No, this was something else. A darkness so deep and corruptive that the land itself suffered, and everything inhabiting it as well.
A small seed was enough. They fled, but she felt her mind slowly starting to slip. Some moments she didn’t remember what she’d been doing just minutes before.
Slowly he watched her change. From that sharp, witty person to a hollow shell of what she’d been once. He tried to help her, desperate, his love, his life withering before his eyes. But it was all for naught.
She slipped through his fingers into madness, and there was no way to reverse it.
The cave. The ending of a bond made for life that lasted way too short. The last moments as she attacked all those dear to her, as they harmed her. Every wound he felt on himself, double as badly. Was it his fault it had come this far? They never should’ve gone to this place.
The life that faded from her eyes as she looked up to someone she didn’t know. Why hadn’t it been him? Why were the last arms she felt around herself not his, but a strangers?
Slipping, slipping, ever further into the dark.
Finally the voices were silenced, blessed quiet. No more promises, no more hurt. Yet she could still see the faces of them all. She’d still been in there, pushed away, but looking on as they came to murder her.
The silence didn’t last very long. A new noise made itself known, the world gone red. This should’ve been a new beginning. Panic gripped her in its ugly claws as she fell, kept falling. No! Where were the eternal plains? This wasn’t right!
Struggling, but to no avail. She was lost once again. From the frying pan into the fire, as one would say. This fire hurt more than anything else. She had no body to burn, so it burned her soul, her very essence.
Slipping, once again. How much time had passed? How much time of being in this agonizing pain, memories slowly fading away, burned away, until nothing was left…
Who was she again…? Faces swam in front of her mind, faces she’d once known, but who were strangers now.
Strangers. The last thing she saw again, before everything disappeared. Entirely. The pain, the noise...She.
Blessed silence.
They were not done yet. There were still some things to do, but most of the danger had passed for now. For now, he could simply enjoy the celebrations.
Sinking back into his furs one evening, a smile on his lips as he fell asleep…
Pandaria. A land of hope and dreams since the Sha were defeated. They’d been living here for a while now, away from the clan. Not that she was really a part of them to begin with, but she noticed Srelok missing them often enough. He had a place there, a family, even so he’d chosen to go here instead with her. The outcast, the stranger. Being a half blood had never been easy. The clan accepted them well enough, but for many the feeling remained of being the odd one out either way.
The lands they’d seen were beautiful, recovering after everything that been done to them in the past years. It was a good time, together. Finally they had the time and chance to focus on each other, and only that.
Yet, things never stay the same.
It started in the Vale. Darkness fell over the land once again. But not a natural darkness. No, this was something else. A darkness so deep and corruptive that the land itself suffered, and everything inhabiting it as well.
A small seed was enough. They fled, but she felt her mind slowly starting to slip. Some moments she didn’t remember what she’d been doing just minutes before.
Slowly he watched her change. From that sharp, witty person to a hollow shell of what she’d been once. He tried to help her, desperate, his love, his life withering before his eyes. But it was all for naught.
She slipped through his fingers into madness, and there was no way to reverse it.
The cave. The ending of a bond made for life that lasted way too short. The last moments as she attacked all those dear to her, as they harmed her. Every wound he felt on himself, double as badly. Was it his fault it had come this far? They never should’ve gone to this place.
The life that faded from her eyes as she looked up to someone she didn’t know. Why hadn’t it been him? Why were the last arms she felt around herself not his, but a strangers?
Slipping, slipping, ever further into the dark.
Finally the voices were silenced, blessed quiet. No more promises, no more hurt. Yet she could still see the faces of them all. She’d still been in there, pushed away, but looking on as they came to murder her.
The silence didn’t last very long. A new noise made itself known, the world gone red. This should’ve been a new beginning. Panic gripped her in its ugly claws as she fell, kept falling. No! Where were the eternal plains? This wasn’t right!
Struggling, but to no avail. She was lost once again. From the frying pan into the fire, as one would say. This fire hurt more than anything else. She had no body to burn, so it burned her soul, her very essence.
Slipping, once again. How much time had passed? How much time of being in this agonizing pain, memories slowly fading away, burned away, until nothing was left…
Who was she again…? Faces swam in front of her mind, faces she’d once known, but who were strangers now.
Strangers. The last thing she saw again, before everything disappeared. Entirely. The pain, the noise...She.
Blessed silence.
#93
Red Blade Records / Nrak Ashmaw
Last post by Drazhul - September 14, 2020, 02:27:54 AMName: Nrak Ashmaw
Alias: Nrak, Burnedbub, Charredchump, Grilledgrin, Flamedface. Slayer
Rank: Lazy new blood
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Clan: Dragonmaw
Class: Marauder. Dragon-less Dragonrider. Alcoholic.
Alignment: Chaotic Good/Neutral depending on drunkenness.
Family:
Father: Tarosh Bloodbane, also known as Tarosh Drakebane. Veteran of the first and second war, the siege of Shattrath and Kargath's genocide of the Arrakoa. Slayer of the Spires, Horror of the Highlands. Died in the battle of Grim Batol.
Mother: Shuk'la Ruinbringer, prized mate of Tarosh. Said to bring bad luck to her suitors, hence her 'honour'-name. Talented young warrior, killed by falling debree during the battle of Grim Batol.
Known Friends: A bottle of alcohol, Cripple.
Known Enemies: Hangovers.
Appearance:
Nrak was tall for an Orc, he has a muscular, hulking appearance. The ash-skinned Orc was covered from head to toe in a plethora of scars, cuts, scratches and even old bite-wounds. They littered almost everywhere on his body.
He probably wasn't considered good looking by most. The rough exterior of the Orc was etched across his entire physique. An almost permanent scowl marked his face and his skin was equally scarred there. A large burnmark covered his neck and predominately his lower jaw, engulfing it almost completely. Claw marks are etched into his face, barely missing his right eye and his left ear is partially missing.
On his back was a large red-coloured tattoo of the Dragonmaw clan, a traditional tattoo for those who've come of age. Around his neck hangs a simple necklace adorned with dragon teeth.
He stands at about 7'5' tall.
Personality:
Nrak comes across as easy going, uncommited and sometimes even uncaring. His only hobbies seem to be drinking, fighting and drinking some more. Drowning his true feelings and thoughts with copious amounts of alcohol. He enjoys teasing and flirting with women and will often make fun of everyone, himself most of all.
Whilst he enjoys drinking with others he mostly copes with his feelings by drowning his sorrows. Often sleeping trough entire days due to his bad hangovers, unable to soberly face his personal demons.
History:
Nrak grew up as the only child to Tarosh and Shuk'la, his mother was barely an adult when he was conceived and died only a few years later during the Battle of Grim Batol. He has few memories of his parents, but remembers his Father as a mountain of a man, he was loud, strict and in Nrak's eyes the strongest man alive. His mother was much younger than her mate but was regarded as stronger than many a man of the clan. A true Orcish beauty though he can't quite recall her appearance as much as he'd want.
Nrak was raised in the Highlands after the death of his Parents at Grim Batol. He was among the few of the clan who evaded capture and thus lived freely in the hills. Without parents Nrak's upbringing was generic, he did the same things week after week, month after month, year after year. Train, hunt, train, work. Anything to earn his keep and the elders' time. Grew up a fine young warrior, strong like his father. Some thought he even inherited his mother's good looks. Over the years scars and wounds slowly chipped away at his young unblemished physique. The lower half of his face got burned and scarred during his Om'riggor.
The drake's fire had left it's everlasting mark. Though older now. He'd always relive the hunt in his dreams, the pain, the smell of burnt flesh.. and the glory of his kill.
Eventually Nrak become one of the Dragonrider, like his father before him. A proud moment in his life, he was content for those years and was eager to join the Horde when Garrosh Hellscream came to the Highlands. As Garrosh went overboard in his ideology he found it worrying that Zaela seemed to join him on the path. Whilst Nrak felt that he should honor his clan he didn't think his parents died all those years ago just to see the clan kill themselves over a Madman and his equally madwoman who followed blindly. Nrak however followed his orders and did as he was told, he even joined the Kor'kron, in fact.
But even the most loyal of dogs can break free from blind obedience. As the Horde plunged into rebellion. ''Warlord'' Zaela sticked with the Warchief. Nrak deserted from the Kor'kron, distanced himself from the clan and joined the rebellion, helping overthrow the Warchief. The Dragonmaw clan endured and the 'new' chieftain kept their pledge to the Horde. Nrak worked as a horde aligned mercenary for a while before eventually coming across the Red Blades in Nagrand
Alias: Nrak, Burnedbub, Charredchump, Grilledgrin, Flamedface. Slayer
Rank: Lazy new blood
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Clan: Dragonmaw
Class: Marauder. Dragon-less Dragonrider. Alcoholic.
Alignment: Chaotic Good/Neutral depending on drunkenness.
Family:
Father: Tarosh Bloodbane, also known as Tarosh Drakebane. Veteran of the first and second war, the siege of Shattrath and Kargath's genocide of the Arrakoa. Slayer of the Spires, Horror of the Highlands. Died in the battle of Grim Batol.
Mother: Shuk'la Ruinbringer, prized mate of Tarosh. Said to bring bad luck to her suitors, hence her 'honour'-name. Talented young warrior, killed by falling debree during the battle of Grim Batol.
Known Friends: A bottle of alcohol, Cripple.
Known Enemies: Hangovers.
Appearance:
Nrak was tall for an Orc, he has a muscular, hulking appearance. The ash-skinned Orc was covered from head to toe in a plethora of scars, cuts, scratches and even old bite-wounds. They littered almost everywhere on his body.
He probably wasn't considered good looking by most. The rough exterior of the Orc was etched across his entire physique. An almost permanent scowl marked his face and his skin was equally scarred there. A large burnmark covered his neck and predominately his lower jaw, engulfing it almost completely. Claw marks are etched into his face, barely missing his right eye and his left ear is partially missing.
On his back was a large red-coloured tattoo of the Dragonmaw clan, a traditional tattoo for those who've come of age. Around his neck hangs a simple necklace adorned with dragon teeth.
He stands at about 7'5' tall.
Personality:
Nrak comes across as easy going, uncommited and sometimes even uncaring. His only hobbies seem to be drinking, fighting and drinking some more. Drowning his true feelings and thoughts with copious amounts of alcohol. He enjoys teasing and flirting with women and will often make fun of everyone, himself most of all.
Whilst he enjoys drinking with others he mostly copes with his feelings by drowning his sorrows. Often sleeping trough entire days due to his bad hangovers, unable to soberly face his personal demons.
History:
Nrak grew up as the only child to Tarosh and Shuk'la, his mother was barely an adult when he was conceived and died only a few years later during the Battle of Grim Batol. He has few memories of his parents, but remembers his Father as a mountain of a man, he was loud, strict and in Nrak's eyes the strongest man alive. His mother was much younger than her mate but was regarded as stronger than many a man of the clan. A true Orcish beauty though he can't quite recall her appearance as much as he'd want.
Nrak was raised in the Highlands after the death of his Parents at Grim Batol. He was among the few of the clan who evaded capture and thus lived freely in the hills. Without parents Nrak's upbringing was generic, he did the same things week after week, month after month, year after year. Train, hunt, train, work. Anything to earn his keep and the elders' time. Grew up a fine young warrior, strong like his father. Some thought he even inherited his mother's good looks. Over the years scars and wounds slowly chipped away at his young unblemished physique. The lower half of his face got burned and scarred during his Om'riggor.
The drake's fire had left it's everlasting mark. Though older now. He'd always relive the hunt in his dreams, the pain, the smell of burnt flesh.. and the glory of his kill.
Eventually Nrak become one of the Dragonrider, like his father before him. A proud moment in his life, he was content for those years and was eager to join the Horde when Garrosh Hellscream came to the Highlands. As Garrosh went overboard in his ideology he found it worrying that Zaela seemed to join him on the path. Whilst Nrak felt that he should honor his clan he didn't think his parents died all those years ago just to see the clan kill themselves over a Madman and his equally madwoman who followed blindly. Nrak however followed his orders and did as he was told, he even joined the Kor'kron, in fact.
But even the most loyal of dogs can break free from blind obedience. As the Horde plunged into rebellion. ''Warlord'' Zaela sticked with the Warchief. Nrak deserted from the Kor'kron, distanced himself from the clan and joined the rebellion, helping overthrow the Warchief. The Dragonmaw clan endured and the 'new' chieftain kept their pledge to the Horde. Nrak worked as a horde aligned mercenary for a while before eventually coming across the Red Blades in Nagrand
#94
Red Blade Records / Bamm Ironspark
Last post by Bamm - September 05, 2020, 06:47:37 PMName: Bamm Ironspark
Alias: Him again?, Goblin Orc
Rank: Nag'ogar grunt
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Clan: Orc? Redblade
Class: Engineer
Alignment: Chaotically Good
Family:
Mom: First Mate Sariss Saltblood
Dad: Arkail Blastblade
Known Friends: Boomer, Gearoid Durashaft And everyone of The Red Blade clan they're all just neat.
Known Close Friends: Boomer. The fantabulous Master Engineer Gearoid Durashaft
Known Enemies: None, dont be silly
**
Appearance:
A unusually short Orc. yet very well built stocky and muscular. Is in his late teens his hair wild unkempt burnt at the ends is always covered in oil and grease. Wearing Oily overalls and hefty well maintained toolbelt with all manner of tools and gizmos many he uses as makeshift weapons from crafting hammers to blowtorches and wrenches. His Boots appear to have shiny new Rockets attached to them.
Personality:
Childish, happy, naïve, excitable, reckless, loyal, sees the best in everyone and every situation, loves learning, thinking and a tinkering
History:
Born at sea to a loving pirate mother and a recently found travelling Orcish scholar. At an early age had strong love of engineering tinkering near as soon as he could walk, he mother saw potential in him so apprenticed him to a Skilled Goblin Engineer Gearoid Durashaft, who worked for various cartels. Has had a very happy life. His magnum opus is his best pal Boomer a near sentient Robotic Dog companion, he built himself and all his energy is working towards giving Boomer True sentience and free will. He recently discovered his father an Arkail Blastblade felt Bamm could do with some orcish culture having no real education in such matters, Bamm sought his father's clan The red blade and he is really enjoying his time with them, they are all so nice, friendly and welcoming, everyday he learns more and more about Orc life, has even been given a wolf of his own to ride Ripmaw who is a very good girl.
Things you may know about this character:
Is loud, Loves blowing stuff up, happy, is impossible to insult, loves Boomer and engineering
Things you may not know about this character:
Is natural mimic and impressionist, with a wide array of accents and noises
Wants to give Boomer free will an true level of sentience so he can choose what he wants to do and just be happy
Bone Banjo
Memorable Quotes:
LOUD HOLLERING HOWDY Y'ALL MOK'RA
SHITFIRE
Voice and Art references: GulfyDraws and Thiama ** see above
EA Battlefield Bad Company and King of the Hill
Alias: Him again?, Goblin Orc
Rank: Nag'ogar grunt
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Clan: Orc? Redblade
Class: Engineer
Alignment: Chaotically Good
Family:
Mom: First Mate Sariss Saltblood
Dad: Arkail Blastblade
Known Friends: Boomer, Gearoid Durashaft And everyone of The Red Blade clan they're all just neat.
Known Close Friends: Boomer. The fantabulous Master Engineer Gearoid Durashaft
Known Enemies: None, dont be silly
**
Appearance:
A unusually short Orc. yet very well built stocky and muscular. Is in his late teens his hair wild unkempt burnt at the ends is always covered in oil and grease. Wearing Oily overalls and hefty well maintained toolbelt with all manner of tools and gizmos many he uses as makeshift weapons from crafting hammers to blowtorches and wrenches. His Boots appear to have shiny new Rockets attached to them.
Personality:
Childish, happy, naïve, excitable, reckless, loyal, sees the best in everyone and every situation, loves learning, thinking and a tinkering
History:
Born at sea to a loving pirate mother and a recently found travelling Orcish scholar. At an early age had strong love of engineering tinkering near as soon as he could walk, he mother saw potential in him so apprenticed him to a Skilled Goblin Engineer Gearoid Durashaft, who worked for various cartels. Has had a very happy life. His magnum opus is his best pal Boomer a near sentient Robotic Dog companion, he built himself and all his energy is working towards giving Boomer True sentience and free will. He recently discovered his father an Arkail Blastblade felt Bamm could do with some orcish culture having no real education in such matters, Bamm sought his father's clan The red blade and he is really enjoying his time with them, they are all so nice, friendly and welcoming, everyday he learns more and more about Orc life, has even been given a wolf of his own to ride Ripmaw who is a very good girl.
Things you may know about this character:
Is loud, Loves blowing stuff up, happy, is impossible to insult, loves Boomer and engineering
Things you may not know about this character:
Is natural mimic and impressionist, with a wide array of accents and noises
Wants to give Boomer free will an true level of sentience so he can choose what he wants to do and just be happy
Bone Banjo
Spoiler: show
Memorable Quotes:
LOUD HOLLERING HOWDY Y'ALL MOK'RA
SHITFIRE
Voice and Art references: GulfyDraws and Thiama ** see above
EA Battlefield Bad Company and King of the Hill
#95
Red Blade Records / Eliff Watersong
Last post by Realyn/Eliff - August 31, 2020, 01:46:05 PM
Name: Eliff Watersong
Alias: Water warrior
Rank: New Blood
Age: ~30
Gender: Female
Race: Mag'har Orc.
Clan: Mag'har of Garadar
Class: Shaman & Shieldmaiden
Family: Mother: Gara Madheart - Dad: Rarll Primespirit - Brother: Surm. (deceased)
Known Friends: Srelok Grimtide, Jiro the bard, Vixxee Fangslice, Vaskra, Fira & Janec. She likes most of the clan, but still needs to get to know them better!
Known Enemies: None known.
Appearance:
This orc is in the prime of her life, she looks still rather young and proud and it shows.
She's well build only a little bit on the smaller side for an orc, but she makes up for it with her strength and wits.
Her eyes have are clear hazel brown, with long thick lashes.
Her hair is brown and very long with many braids woven into it.
Some feathers and small totems can be found on some of the braids at times.
behind her right ear is a scar but its not quickly visible.
In her left eyebrow sits a scar.
On her right shoulder is a big claw mark.
She has some minor scars crossing her body but not too many.
Personality:
Eliff knows who she is, how she looks and what she can do.
She's absolutely not shy and likes to show she's there.
She believes everything she does is for a reason and that she will succeed everytime something comes on her path.
She's mostly always in her hum, and almost never grumpy.
The elements/spirits are important to her, and she will always rise to defend them and also her friends and clan members.
She likes challenges and will never say no to one.
History:
She was born in Gardar a few years after it got build.
She grew up with her brother both trained in Shamanisme by her father and fighting the frontlines by her mother.
Her father was one of the menders while her mother was one of the guards.
Her brother died eventually with a new small outbreak of the red pocks.
When becoming of age and been trained enough she turned ressless and eventually set out to travel to aid others with mending and fighting.
She never stayed too long with clans or tribes as she follows where the spirits want her for that time.
Sometimes when things just did not work out and she had to leave sooner but she always found the spirits to be agreeing with her and simply changed the course.
Things you may know about this character:
- She hates to be hold back, sit on the side lines.
- Water is her strongest connection.
-
Things you may not know about this character:
She has some worries at times but does not voice them, only those close to her will know them.
Memorable Quotes:
See it as still water, just one drop can make a ripple that will change everything.
In the waves of change you will find your true direction.
Other Information:
X
(Might make some changes along the way!)
#96
The Campfire / Kairah's Challenge
Last post by Ordok Axebite - August 29, 2020, 07:03:41 AM
The sun shone a deep and seething orange upon the dust-covered roofings of Razor Hill. Evening was slowly approaching, and so was the change of guard: Kairah was keenly aware of this fact, as proven by her ‘expert’ position just to the left of the Southern Gate. Tucked between three large wooden beams, she eagerly gripped the rope that was soon to be the downfall of Gorek, Tas’hul and Briga. “Always in the frontâ€, Olgar had mentioned gleefully; and by the ancestors he was right. There they came: Two orcs and a troll, strolling up from the road which led up all the way from the Valley of Trials, where she would undergo her Om’riggor in a year or four. There could be no doubt that the three guards had a long journey behind them, Kairah had seen their mounts were still getting stabled some distance away. Whether they had come from Sen’jin village or the Valley was impossible to tell, or now however it was time to focus on the task at hand. “Come on, ten moreâ€, she uttered to herself before catching herself and internalizing those thoughts, five, Kairah added her left hand to the right holding the rope low. Three, two, one… NOW! With a not-so-mighty heave, the rope sprang up about half a foot from the ground, and caught its first victim by sheer surprise. “Ya hear de rumours from de seas? Some storm above isl-... Oh-mon!†Tas’hul was the first to go, his tusks burrowing into the dry dirt below him. Before she could react to her blue companion’s downfall, Briga stumbled over the trap and fell forth to her knees, barely catching herself with the gleaming sharpened axe she held. Gorek however was in the back by some margin, which gave the massive green orc a chance to stop in time. A single furious eye followed the rope to the right-... then to the left.
“Oh, sticks…†The mischievous girl muttered before she promptly let go of the trap, deciding two victims to be quite a success for her first hit of the week. Dust and dirt crusted green feet left clear impressions in the craggy Durotar ground as she made around a corner and rushed through the traders’ caravan that had set up outside the Western gate. With their fish, goat’s milk and other goods either toppled or otherwise sullied, angry shouts of Trolls and Goblins followed her crashing through, as did their subsequent yelps of frustration when Gorek barreled through as well in his pursuit. Another corner made as her pursuer fell to the background more and more, past the barracks, left to the inn, below the great tree and- “What have we here?†A painfully familiar voice stopped Kairah right in her tracks. She panicked, looking around for a place to possibly hide, finding it inside one of the woven baskets which had been set out to air out the smell of whatever had been in there. The figure that spooked her so grunted in amusement as he leant against the inn’s outer wall, nipping at a pickled egg in all calmness. “Shush! He will hear!†Kairah shout-whispered, to which the sun weathered Orc shrugged. “It won’t be me he hears, whelp.†The firm steps of the enraged Grunt came closer, closer, so close that she could almost hear Gorek’s heartbeat in his bloated throat, then receded, moving on and down the path to wherever he might’ve thought she’d gone. A sigh of relief passed her lips as she rose from that basket, along with the mischievous giggle she’d been holding on to all the way through this adrenaline-induced escape from the grunt’s clutches.
“Heh! Did you see where he went, Ordok?†She asked, the basket’s lid worn as a Pandaren straw hat. “How am I to know,†he spoke casually, a grin on his face, “he was your quarry, it is you who should’ve kept him in your eyes.†Kairah didn’t appreciate that, even if it came from her combat teacher. The girl whirled at Ordok, spitting fire with her eyes. Her cheeks went a darker shade of greed as fury built in her heart. “You don’t need to tell me how to look at people! I have -eyes-, just as you! I know how to use them!†She raged on for a couple of moments, receiving nothing in return from him.
“Perhaps you should use your ears as well,†another voice suddenly said, out of breath and very clearly out of patience. Kairah froze instantly, Ordok smirked. “Come here -whelp-!†Yanked at the shoulder, the defeated Orcling found herself flung unto the ground of Razor Hill’s Western road, while the ugly green Orc came walking up to her. His furious reb-brownish eyes glared down at her from under black, badly braided hair.
“I-it was just a joke, mister Gorek! I-I d-didn’t mean an-anything by it!†Gorek resisted his balled fist from finding her face, knowing full well the fury of her family.
“No you -didn’t-. Your parents ought to give you a good beating, girl, and you’ll bring me to them so I can offer such a thing myself with their -blessing-. Perhaps you’ll learn not to bother your betters then, hmm?!†He all but spat as he scooped Kairah up, and started to drag the trashing whelp away by one arm. “Hold it there, Gorek.†Ordok said promptly and sternly, having emerged from his place by the inn. Most of his upper body was ever hidden beneath a blue, dusty and tattered flag which doubled as a cloak. “What now, Steelgrip?â€
“Axebite. You’ll do well to remember my deeds in Tanaan.†“Fine, Axebite, what now?†Gorek found himself unable to resist the other orc’s words, for whatever reason a degree of respect laced the words he spoke in rebuttal. Ordok took a couple of steps towards the Grunt and his captive, chomping away at the last of his early-evening snack. “I will take it from here, no need to busy yourself with this matter… Besides,†he paused as his blue eyes wandered to the sky to the East, Dark clouds hanging over the far-off coast, “there’s a storm brewing. Best get the guard change underway.†Again, something about Ordok’s presence gave Gorek pause. Not because the Mag’har was such an imposing figure, he himself was just as sturdy an Orc, but rather because he knew that the rebellious Kairah was familiar with this particular one, and this one had shown his worth a hundred times over in the recently concluded campaign in the other Draenor. Gorek grunted, almost throwing the girl at Axebite. “Fine, just make sure the parents offer her a firm adjustment.†“Aka’magosh, Sharptusk.†Ordok nodded firmly at the grunt. Gorek waved his hand up in response with a final huff, and walked off.
“You really showed him, hah!†Kairah revelled at the older orc, sticking her tongue out at Gorek’s back, before being swiftly snapped out of her short-lived celebration and dragged along. “Wh- What are you doing!†She protested vehemently. “Taking you to your parents, thought I’d let you off so easily?†He grinned, though the seriousness in his voice said it all. Kairah’s head dropped, and she fell silent.
“Tripping the guards, really?†“Yes papa… It was just a bit of fun! Olgar even said th-†“OLGAR said? By the ancestors, how many times am I to tell you he is not to be lingered around, you know what his father is!†Kuzrel’s earrings shook about as he whirled his head in this heated speech to his daughter. Kairah felt small, like a Goblin that was about to get trampled by one of those ugly Gronn she had heard about. “You ought to be glad Ordok found you when he did, the grunts are on edge after the rumours started spreading.†“Indeed, and Gorek had murder in his eyes even moreso than he normally does.†“Shattered Hand, hmm?†“Indeed.†Ordok’s lips curled around his yellowing tusks into a grin at Kairah’s mother, Fil’gra. “We’ll deal with you then, little pup.†She continued as Kuzrel grumbled about on his way to the firepit in the center of the hut. “Thank you for bringing her, Axebite. Care to stay for food? The night’s crawling close.†“No thank you,†Ordok replied as he stepped past the defeated troublemaker, “I’ll go and have some training behind the Great Hall before the feast there. Let me know if you need me.†She nodded with a grin, then made sure to eye up her daughter real good. As Ordok stepped out of the hut he could already hear Kuzrel bristle towards Kairah, words and grunts of frustration blending.
An hour or so passed, and Ordok felt the sweat pouring from his head, leaving little droplets of effort on the barren ground. With a heave he shattered the dummy’s arm, with another he popped the flour-sack head off. It flew through the air and rolled over the floor, leaving a trail of straw and broken dreams until it came to a stop by the feet of a familiar face. “Ordok.†She said stiffly, barely holding up an axe that was probably meant as an ornament. “Kairah, come to train already? We are slated to have our go tomorrow, you know.†“No. Mum and papa told me off and said I needed to keep my honor intact, as well as that of my family. ‘Such dumb jokes are below you’ they said.†Ordok’s eyebrow rose, his lip curling into a one-sided grin as Kairah started coming closer. The youthful Orc had always had a fire about her, one she inherited from her father- but more measured, like her mother. No doubt she felt slighted, the deep frown on her face and the dragging of the ‘axe’ made that much clear. “I got to reclaim my honor, you ratted me out and embarrassed me to my parents!†She shouted, petulant anger ringing true in her voice. “So I challenge you to mar-.. Mak.. The thing!â€
Gracious as a fish on dry land she took on a battle position with the axe somewhat in hand, already breathing heavily from that simple effort. Ordok pondered for a moment, what would be the right course of action, what would be the thing to make her learn from her mistake? The thought came to him like a moth to a lantern: He would indulge Kairah in this, and so he raised his wooden training sword. “Well, if you’re going to fight me with that mighty weapon, I had better get me a buckler.†“You have five seconds, old man!†And so he gathered a dusty old shield, one that had probably seen as many hands as it had seen days. “Let’s have this thing over with then.†He readied himself in a loose stance, knowing the inevitable to come; and so it did. Kairah raced, no, stumbled forth to have her axe meet his shield, eyes squinted shut as to not get any of Durotar’s ever present dust into them. She swung in a wide arc, finding thin hot air instead of currently hated flesh. Her quarry had sidestepped her, and saw fit to add insult to injury by somewhat kicking her behind in the process. “Ouch! Hey!†“Eyes -open-, Kairah. Remember!†The old Warrior said in a chuckle before appearing by her side. Before she realized she was listening to his instructions while trying to reclaim her honor, she flashed a quick glance and responded by jabbing the butt-end of the weapon into his upper leg. “Better!†Ordok stepped back, swinging the wooden sword around to tap her on the shoulder, and made sure to do it with appropriate force. The angered child however had her father’s fire in the eyes still, eyes that were now open, to Ordok’s pleasant surprise. She ducked the blow and jumped forth, however small the jump was, towards the teacher. The axe swung and made contact with the shield, chipping some of the old wood off in the process and embedding it into the bulk, at the cost of her ownership of the weapon. Ordok jerked the shield back, taking with it the embedded blade. “Hey, give that back!†Kairah protested, gasping for her voice after swinging such a large tool. “Your grip is still weak, take it back from me!†Ordok easily sidestepped her first rushed attempt of grabbing at the weapon, then whirled around in a test of speed. To his surprise, Kairah latched on to the butt-end of her ‘weapon’ and yanked at it with surprising ferocity. She felt as if all the blood in her body had rushed to her head and hands, and her heart throbbing with the heat of battle she used the latter to free the axe from the shield and stumbled back a couple steps. “Stance!†He yelled at her, once more returning the girl to reality. Feet apart, knees slightly bent, like a tree in the wind. He would teach me how to defeat him… Why?
Ordok came moving up to her now, wooden weapon raised to strike. Two hands, she realized and acted accordingly; raising the axe above her head to block the incoming blow successfully. “Very good!†Ordok pulled back, the grin on his face increasing in wideness.
So that was why… She thought to herself as she witnessed that grin. “You’re mocking me!â€
“I am teaching you a lesson, phah!†He stood back, shield and training sword at the ready while Kairah made sure to readjust her stance. A darker green flush came over her already pounding head, one of anger and slowly building shame. How had he turned this honorable duel into something so menial? She was going to make him pay for taking her to her parents, but instead she was getting punished for even trying. “Don’t think you can do it?â€
“I am strong enough…†She uttered softly in response, slow, deep breaths following while the dust upon the ground got kicked up by her steps. He’ll never see it coming.
With a couple of strides Kairah found herself before Ordok’s blue-cloaked frame, her axe swung in an underhand fashion to strike the shield from his hand before coming down to his shoulder. She snarled with a grin as she thought to make an impact- then felt herself to be very much lighter than before. A sharp pain shot through her face as the pommel of the sword knocked her down to the ground, to which she stumbled clumsily. The Axe, instead of making contact, flew through the air and returned to the floor some feet away, burying itself into the dry ground with the same vigor she would’ve wanted it to do to the flesh of her enemy. From above, Ordok grinned down at the fallen Orc with, to her, near-mockery.
“You got to learn one day, Kairah.†He spoke, softer than she had anticipated. The mocking smile had turned into something different, one of encouragement. As the rage started to recede, the shame she had started to feel earlier came to flood in its place like a tidal wave to the shore of Kalimdor. She could feel tears welling in her eyes, they stung like little wasps at the backs of her eyelids. “Why did you attack me?†He started.
“I wanted to reclaim m-my honor...†She responded, sniffling. “What honor, that of your family?†He responded, shaking his head somewhat. “The honor of your family is yours to protect too, but not yet.†“I just wanted to have some fun by the gate… But you ruined it for me, and ratted me out to my parents.†“You weren’t careful enough to make sure you tripped them all and could make a clean escape.†Ordok snickered lightly and knelt down, his buckler set to the side and hand out to help her up. She looked away at first, her already cracked pride couldn’t take another hit- though again, her head and body did hurt a great deal. “Hmpf.†She huffed, taking the hand and seeing herself hauled to her feet effortlessly. “You will become strong one day, Kairah. And when you do, I will be right there with you to stand in battle.†“But I want to be strong -now-...†She sighed deeply, wiping away a couple tears from her face. “Strength and Honor. That is the way, neither exists truly without the other.†Ordok paused for a moment, letting those words sink into Kairah’s mind. As he watched her settle a bit, he couldn’t help but smile more benevolently. So much like Grel’ka…
â€Tonight there is a feast in the great hall, some of the Braves from Mulgore have brought good food, there will be music and dance.†Kairah shuffled awkwardly in place, letting the thoughts in her mind come to their own. “Mum and papa probably won’t let me go…†She declared, already panning herself about to watch the great hall. “Are you going to admit defeat already? You were quick enough to fight me, hmm?†He snickered, stashing the weapon and shield away by the wall where he found them. “I don’t think they’ll make a problem of it.†He followed up when no answer came. “Besides, your father could use a good feast.†“He’s a grump.†“Perhaps…†They met eyes, a mischievous grin forming on Kairah’s face. “Go, tell them what happened here. -Listen- to them, do what you must do and you might be able to attend after all.†“Promise?†“No promise, but some advice at least. Besides, our normal training resumes tomorrow. We’ll see about your techniques with more of such weapons.†He pointed at the axe. Kairah couldn’t stop herself from fully smiling, the tears upon her face readily drying up. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Ordok! I’ll beat you then!†“That’s the spirit, go! Phah, return the axe.†He wasn’t half done speaking or Kairah was already gone, a trail of dust following in her wake. The axe still sat embedded in the ground however, so there it would stay until the morrow he figured.
Evening had come to be much deeper over Razor Hill as Ordok emerged from the Great Hall with another pickled egg. He hadn’t seen Kairah since their duel some hours ago, and he counted that a good thing. Perhaps she was resting up after combat, regaining what little strength she had for tomorrow’s training. The town was slowly coming to rest as businesses were cleared out, traders packing the last of their wares before they would head out for the road again or simply went to sleep. A warm wind breezed through, making the cotton and skin roofings of the many huts and tents sway to relieve them of dust. The ground seemed to rumble lightly, as it tended to do now and again since the Cataclysm, which destabilized the entire continent. Thinking nothing of it, he walked calmly towards his tent upon the cliffside facing the road to Orgrimmar. “Aside, coming through!†Distant shouting echoed through the air, paired with another rumble- this time far off. A cart pulled by a pair of relatively small Kodo came rushing up into the village, accompanied by some wolf, hawkstrider and raptor riders with sullied armor and bloodied weapons in hand. “We need Shaman, Priests, any Druid you can find!†“At once!†The guard that had gotten the chaotic contingent’s attention rushed off to rouse what healers she could find. From one of the far off huts emerged an older orc, older than Ordok for certain, but no less keen of mind- perhaps too keen. It was Zukrel, Olgar’s father, and he was a Warlock. The caster stepped towards the group of new arrivals with brisk speed, some form of distress etched upon his face as he raised his hands.
This was a sight Ordok disliked greatly, their magics seeped from their hands in such ways. “Stop right there, -warlock-!†Ordok commanded, his words towards Zukrel laced with thinly veiled disgust while he approached. “Axebite! Grab a weapon!†The usually proud and cocky Warlock replied, his hands now trying to get the attention of other guards strewn about the place. Zukrel was one of the few Warlocks openly practicing in these parts, and probably the only one that had somewhat proven his uses to be more than simple malignancy. “What, you’re going to challenge me too? You’ll do well to remember your place, speak sense, Zukrel!†“Turn to the East, you fool!†Ordok stopped at that insult, mere feet from Zukrel and the cart. Somehow the sentence had carried a weight he hadn’t expected. The Warlock and those upon and around the cart had now come into clear view. The latter had wounds deep and blackened- laced with a loathed magic he could identify a league away. Silence gripped Ordok Axebite, for now he realized who had just rushed in: their tabards were those of the Horde’s Navy, a relatively small yet mighty force. The Kodos had to be on the smaller side, or they wouldn’t be able to come on the ship… Or off it. Ordok swallowed hard, the beating of his heart rising by the second. Not today… He pleaded with the ancestors, pleaded with fate itself. The faces he had seen that day all seemed to blend together as they raced through his mind. The innkeeper, Kuzrel, Fil’gra, Gorek, all those in attendance at the feast… So many faces, so many.
Ordok Axebite glanced at the East, towards the coast, his blue eyes narrowing at the sight before him. Kairah… He muttered.
A flash of green lightning streaked across the darkened sky.
#97
Red Blade Records / Za'karah Sporefang
Last post by Zakarah - August 28, 2020, 01:38:50 AM
Name: Za'karah
Alias: Zaka / Sporeorc
Rank: Gul'thauk
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: Orc (Mag'har)
Clan: Bleeding Hollow / Marshfur
Class: Herbalist gone warrior
Alignment: Chaotic neutral
Family:
Mom: Ilshara Sporekin
Dad: Ma’rogg Sporemaw
Sister: Razma Sporeweaver
Elder: Amkan Soiltender
Known Friends: Nearly everyone of The Red Blade clan.
Known Close Friends: Gul'rok Ragehowl, Kyrazha Throatrender, Zelyr the Bloodied, Tahi Emberheart, Srelok Grimtide, Tagrok Valorwind, Urzoga the Unbroken, Magra Emberheart, Nosh'marak Ironclaw and Skint.
Known Enemies: Ma'rogg Sporemaw
Appearance:
Very tall, Muscular and overall a little intimidating. Za'karah is a hulk of a female orc with scars littering her body. She sports white hair, making her look older than she truly is. Her body is adorned with warpaint made out of bonepaste, marking the title as "Warrior" in Bleeding Hollow tradition.
Za'karah always dons different mashups of outfits of stuff she finds or creates. She's a big fan of recycling and makes sure nothing goes to waste. She got her axes from scavenging them off the battlefield or 'finding' them among 'abandoned' settlements.
Personality:
Za'karah is overall a happy-go-lucky orc. She loves to spend time with friends, but she isn't really good at making smalltalk. She's very outspoken and doesn't beat around the bush. This makes her very direct and sometimes a little rude. Especially towards strangers, as she's not one to sugarcoat words. She's a very honest orc.
But when angered, it's wise to keep your distance! She fights with teeth, tusk and claw and is not dirty of some blood. Za'karah knows how to fight dirty, and will not hold back until her goal is reached. In honourable combat she'll ofcourse keep to the rules. She's not an dishonourable orc, just a little feral and wild in fighting style.
History:
Added tomorrow!
Things you may know about this character:
Write here
Things you may not know about this character:
Write here
Memorable Quotes:
Write here
Other Information:
Write here
Spoiler: Gallery • show
WIP, will finish tomorrow!
#98
Red Blade Records / Ordok Axebite
Last post by Ordok Axebite - August 27, 2020, 07:26:50 PM
Name: Ordok Axebite
Alias: "Steelgrip"
Rank: New Blood
Age: 57
Gender: Male
Race: Orc (MU Mag'har)
Clan: Whiteclaw
Class: Warrior
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Family: Gollash (father)†, Ha'gra (mate)†, Hal'ok (Son)
Known Friends: Far and few inbetween, none truly yet in the clan.
Known Enemies: None the clan knows of.
Appearance:
Brown-skinned, greying beard with white streaks and weathered by sun and combat: Ordok stands tall and broad as any an Orcish warrior would. With sea-blue eyes set somewhat deeply in their sockets, the gaze of this soldier of the Horde is one of iron. It is obvious that he excersizes much, though long years of strife have had their toll. The skin hangs slightly around his face and neck as age starts to creep up more and more every year.
His voice is one rumbling with pent-up agression, yet laced with the wisdom of years. The closest one might compare it with would be Ga'nar. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8XSOKC4iQg.
Personality:
Unlike years past, Ordok has come to a point in his life where he can no longer permit anger and bloodlust to take over his train of thought. The linear approach of steel to flesh has failed him in the past, to the ruin of many. And so he now strikes as a calm and collected Orc, one who is deeply concerned with the traditions and ancestry of his people, while also retaining a pack-mentality which he is hard pressed to let go of when any other option is available. As calm as he can be out of combat, so vicious is he upon the field of battle. Easy to anger when injustices are dispensed upon those he cares for, he makes for an orc of two sides.
History:
Spoiler: show
Things you may know about this character:
• He knows the Human language, both the Northern dialect and Stormwind Common.
• His weapon of choice is a two-handed axe, which he crafted and maintains himself.
• He lost his Mate in Dragonblight during the Horde offensive of Northrend.
• He has a soft spot for children and beasts, they seem to calm him.
Things you may not know about this character:
Spoiler: show
Memorable Quotes:
“This axe BITES!â€
“Sounds like Warlock -mischief- to me.â€
Spoiler: Gallery • show
#99
Odds & Ends / Re: Om'riggor Transcripts
Last post by Nakobu - August 22, 2020, 07:13:29 PMZa'karah:
I’ve followed my gut towards Dustwallow Marsh. It was a long way, and my wolf rode as fast as it could to get me there. I had to be there. I needed to be there. It called for me.
When I arrived, the swamp was exactly as I remembered it. Murky, gloomy, and unwelcoming. I made my way through the bushes and waded through the water as my skin got infested by mosquitoes. I was lead further and further into the swamp.
Before I knew it, I stood eye-to-eye with a crocolisk. It hissed, and I crouched down, snarling in return.
But it turned away. There was no interest. No challenge.
He wasn’t mine to fight. So I continued. Even though I was happy to feel the mud at my ankles again, I wasn’t fond of the leeches that I had to remove from between my toes. I followed my instinct, my eyes set on a prey that would return my challenge.
I wandered deeper and deeper, my stomach churning in anticipation,or hunger, or both. As I crept closer to a hillside. Here I saw another beast.
Large, hairy. With eight limbs that skittered across the ground. It reared itself up, her front legs raised and her fangs forward.. But I remained perfectly still. This beast didn’t move. It was frightened, and waited for me to pounce first.
No. I wasn’t going to squish a bug. I walked on, the spider skittering away as I climbed one of the hills to get a good look. I felt a breeze coming up from behind. But that breeze turned into a gust, my wet feet slipping on the stone. I dug my toenails into the stone, but I felt as two of them got ripped off, as I tumbled down!
When the ground caught me, I looked up, and my eyes widened. A challenger!
Above me loomed a creature that I’ve only heard of in stories.
A snake, three times the size of Thronk, loomed above me.. But that’s where I noticed it’s body wasn’t resting upon the soil. It had wings!
It bared its fangs at me, and I saw how drops of venom clung to their surface. And I couldn’t help but grin. This was my prey. Before I could act, it lashed forwards, hissing loudly as it coiled its body around mine, trying to crush me! I laughed, adrenaline now building in my veins as I sunk my teeth into its scales.
I ripped off some of the protective scales, before I dug my teeth into the exposed flesh, rending the skin apart. The flying snake panicked and let go of me. I almost grabbed it, but the wind created by its wings forced me into the ground. I snarled and growled, fighting against what felt like a storm as I clambered back to my feet.
I ran forward, zigzagging between the trees, my feet splashing in the murky water. I launched myself at the creature, jumping up and coiling my arms and legs around it.
It trashed in anger, its fangs bared. It reared its head back, and lashed out to sink its teeth into my flesh.
The venom struck my veins, feeling myself getting tensed up as the world began to spin. I tightened my arms and legs around it as I climbed up, now clenching my legs around its windpipe. Is gasped and sputtered as my body fought against the venom. As it reared its head back again, I did the same.
I opened my maw and sunk my teeth into its scaly face. CRUNCH.
And I tore its eye from its socket, bringing scale and flesh with me. It screamed out in pain. A horrifying, high-pitched sound that made my ears ring. But I didn’t give up. My arm started to tingle from the venom. My high tolerance for poisons couldn’t even fend this off. But I didn’t care. This was my hunt!
My victory!
I snarled as I grabbed the jaws of the snake who was panicking and coiling around in pain, wrestling it to the ground where I pinned it into place with my arms. Stared it down. But it opened it’s maw and electrocuted me with it’s strange magics! I fell to the ground, numb, as it wrestled me. I felt like I could pass out, but right as it tried to turn me on my back, I wrestled him back!
I worked him back to the ground. My knees pushed down on its throat as I snarled.
This was it.
"Kavara has blessed this day, as I’ve hunted in her name. Death will be your only comfort, as Sharguul will bring you to the other side. I honour you and this fight, serpent, as you were a worthy opponent. Rest now, and let your pain wash away. Thank you for this moment."
Shok, Arash, Vrashaa!
I pushed my legs down one more time, until a firm crack snapped its neck. The windpipe was crushed, and it met a swift end. I marked my face with its blood, and took his fangs and some of its feathers.
I sucked the venom out of my own shoulder and made my way back.
Name given: Venomspitter.
I’ve followed my gut towards Dustwallow Marsh. It was a long way, and my wolf rode as fast as it could to get me there. I had to be there. I needed to be there. It called for me.
When I arrived, the swamp was exactly as I remembered it. Murky, gloomy, and unwelcoming. I made my way through the bushes and waded through the water as my skin got infested by mosquitoes. I was lead further and further into the swamp.
Before I knew it, I stood eye-to-eye with a crocolisk. It hissed, and I crouched down, snarling in return.
But it turned away. There was no interest. No challenge.
He wasn’t mine to fight. So I continued. Even though I was happy to feel the mud at my ankles again, I wasn’t fond of the leeches that I had to remove from between my toes. I followed my instinct, my eyes set on a prey that would return my challenge.
I wandered deeper and deeper, my stomach churning in anticipation,or hunger, or both. As I crept closer to a hillside. Here I saw another beast.
Large, hairy. With eight limbs that skittered across the ground. It reared itself up, her front legs raised and her fangs forward.. But I remained perfectly still. This beast didn’t move. It was frightened, and waited for me to pounce first.
No. I wasn’t going to squish a bug. I walked on, the spider skittering away as I climbed one of the hills to get a good look. I felt a breeze coming up from behind. But that breeze turned into a gust, my wet feet slipping on the stone. I dug my toenails into the stone, but I felt as two of them got ripped off, as I tumbled down!
When the ground caught me, I looked up, and my eyes widened. A challenger!
Above me loomed a creature that I’ve only heard of in stories.
A snake, three times the size of Thronk, loomed above me.. But that’s where I noticed it’s body wasn’t resting upon the soil. It had wings!
It bared its fangs at me, and I saw how drops of venom clung to their surface. And I couldn’t help but grin. This was my prey. Before I could act, it lashed forwards, hissing loudly as it coiled its body around mine, trying to crush me! I laughed, adrenaline now building in my veins as I sunk my teeth into its scales.
I ripped off some of the protective scales, before I dug my teeth into the exposed flesh, rending the skin apart. The flying snake panicked and let go of me. I almost grabbed it, but the wind created by its wings forced me into the ground. I snarled and growled, fighting against what felt like a storm as I clambered back to my feet.
I ran forward, zigzagging between the trees, my feet splashing in the murky water. I launched myself at the creature, jumping up and coiling my arms and legs around it.
It trashed in anger, its fangs bared. It reared its head back, and lashed out to sink its teeth into my flesh.
The venom struck my veins, feeling myself getting tensed up as the world began to spin. I tightened my arms and legs around it as I climbed up, now clenching my legs around its windpipe. Is gasped and sputtered as my body fought against the venom. As it reared its head back again, I did the same.
I opened my maw and sunk my teeth into its scaly face. CRUNCH.
And I tore its eye from its socket, bringing scale and flesh with me. It screamed out in pain. A horrifying, high-pitched sound that made my ears ring. But I didn’t give up. My arm started to tingle from the venom. My high tolerance for poisons couldn’t even fend this off. But I didn’t care. This was my hunt!
My victory!
I snarled as I grabbed the jaws of the snake who was panicking and coiling around in pain, wrestling it to the ground where I pinned it into place with my arms. Stared it down. But it opened it’s maw and electrocuted me with it’s strange magics! I fell to the ground, numb, as it wrestled me. I felt like I could pass out, but right as it tried to turn me on my back, I wrestled him back!
I worked him back to the ground. My knees pushed down on its throat as I snarled.
This was it.
"Kavara has blessed this day, as I’ve hunted in her name. Death will be your only comfort, as Sharguul will bring you to the other side. I honour you and this fight, serpent, as you were a worthy opponent. Rest now, and let your pain wash away. Thank you for this moment."
Shok, Arash, Vrashaa!
I pushed my legs down one more time, until a firm crack snapped its neck. The windpipe was crushed, and it met a swift end. I marked my face with its blood, and took his fangs and some of its feathers.
I sucked the venom out of my own shoulder and made my way back.
Name given: Venomspitter.
#100
Odds & Ends / Re: Om'riggor Transcripts
Last post by Nakobu - August 22, 2020, 06:32:42 PMNakobu:
I know that the topic of what to hunt during one's Om'riggor is something that many often worry about.
When I first heard of the existence of the Om'riggor, I knew what it was that I should probably hunt should I ever come to do it. That being a demon.
To tell the truth, I had only ever seen drawings and heard tales of demons when I first thought about it.
But after seeing and even facing a demon once or twice in the time since then, my feelings didn't really change.
Demons chased my grandfather and the other draenei for over twenty-five thousand years during the Long Journey.
They had a hand in the corruption of the orcs of this time, leading to the events that you know and perhaps have even lived through yourself.
The idea of hunting a demon was quite symbolic, honouring those I used to be among, and those I am now.
But saying 'I shall hunt a demon' and actually doing such is two very different things.
I am not some strong orc warrior. I am not a vindicator, nor am I an anchorite.
I have my faith, but I could not call on it to help me. I have knowledge as an artificer, but such was not to be used either with its close link to magic.
I am not very good at using traditional weapons. So the idea of facing a demon with just that alone was, is frightening.
How people can charge against them as if they are something normal to face. I cannot really understand it.
I have tried to face a demon alone one time before, nearly a year ago when we were in Nagrand. A practice run of sorts that I did for this Om'riggor during the test for the Sword of Strength. A tale for another time I suppose but it did not go so well.
Though the Legion fell before I even came to this world, there are still demons around and causing problems. as I am sure you are all keenly aware from our time in Desolace.
Vin is a demon hunter. I asked her where there might be a demon in the lands around here that I could perhaps look for.
She said that at Ashenvale's Felfire Hill, there was a demon going after travellers that had to go through the area. A succubus, supposedly.
I had never really seen one of the creatures, again, only in tales and pictures. I knew very little aside from they use charm magics.
The ride over was really quite unpleasant. All I could really feel was dread for what I was about to put myself up against.
Luckily at least, the journey through the Barrens and into the forest was quiet and not very interesting. of course that only meant my mind got to worry further over what was to come.
Eventually, I made it to what was Felfire Hill, leaving my wolf at its base. Despite it's name as a hill, it is quite the flat area after the initial climb.
Perhaps it was because I finally arrived at the site where the demon lurked, but all I could feel was sick as I walked further in.
I do not know what happened at that hill in the past, but there were a number of craters, big and small, all over.
Filled with rainwater. The ground was slick with mud. It was like Draenor. Its battlefields, pockmarked from the artillery on both sides.
I eventually found the succubus amongst the craters. It was kneeling beside a young troll that was down in the mud. I had hoped I was in time to help him and for him to be simply injured but it was too late.
I do not know exactly what the demon did to kill him but it did not look to be a quick death. The sight of him like that was really quite haunting.
The demon noticed me quite quickly. The sound of me walking in the mud gave me away from quite the way away, I suppose.
It said some words, but Eredun and Draenei have a bit too much of a difference in dialect for me to properly understand. Though I am not sure I would much like to comprehend what it had to say.
Whatever did end up saying, it soon came running closer towards me, but it kept itself at a good distance. The battle between us both, it was not anything heroic.
The succubus used their whip and shadow magics from range, which was very effective, as evidenced by my state when I arrived back here.
The whip caused so much pain that it would cause me to lock up and freeze, even from only a light hit, which the demon would follow up with knocking me down and away with its shadow magics.
Getting close was very difficult. The times I thought I managed to get next to the demon, I would suddenly black out. I would wake up moments later, but on the ground with more open cuts from its whip and cold burns from its shadows.
It wasn't long before I realised it was the creature's charm magics at play. It was hard to resist it on my own. Without the Light to protect me, I was near defenceless to it.
Things carried on like this over and over until one time, I got lucky. The demon had an injury to the back of one of its legs. The troll must had done it before he had been bested.
The demon stumbled for a moment, and I was able to just barely get in close and stab it in the abdomen.
The stabbing allowed me to keep so close that it could not use its whip nor shadows against me easily.
I managed to sink the dagger in a few more times. Of course, being a demon, that wasn't really going to be enough.
But it gave me the chance I needed. With it unable to stop me, I pushed it into one of the craters by us. Injured, with the mud slick around the sides. It could not get out.
I said about the battlefields of Draenor, yes? Back then, in the lull between battle, rain would come. Fill the craters made by the artillery. Turn the ground to mud.
Those injured but still able to move would attempt to retreat from no-man's land to get back to their side.
But they would slip. Fall into the water filled craters. The mud would be too slick for them to climb out on their own. They would cry out for help, help that could never come because of the danger.
They would call out, and they would desperately splash in the water until they didn't any more. Exhaustion would take them and they would drown.
It may have been a demon. And it may have been viciously attacking any it could. But I am not one who can sentence anything to a long, painful demise, temporary or not.
It deserved some kind of mercy. Even for the sole reason that others that suffered that fate did not get any.
I went over near to the young fallen troll â€" he had a spear with him. It was broken but it was long enough.
After waiting a bit of time for the demon to weaken in the water, I got a bit closer to the edge of the crater while hiding the spear behind me. The demon was already by the edge, having tried repeatedly to climb out in vain.
Standing back, I readied the broken spear and thrust down at the demon as best I could. It was pure luck but I managed to catch the creature in the head and end it without any further struggling.
Getting the body out of the crater would be far too dangerous, so I cut the horns from the succubus' head as some form of grim 'proof', I suppose. And I had to leave the rest of it floating in those waters.
As for the young troll, I just barely managed to pull his body down from the hill and to a place in the forest uncorrupted.
I called on the Light to bless his body and gave him his rites before setting his body to burn with holy flame.
What I did was not the troll of doing things of course, but he deserved something. He did not have anything to identify who he was, nor where he was from.
If the spirits invalidate the Om'riggor because of my call to the Light for him, so be it. I do not think I want the approval of such spirits if that is the case. That is everything.
Name given: Shadowbreaker.
I know that the topic of what to hunt during one's Om'riggor is something that many often worry about.
When I first heard of the existence of the Om'riggor, I knew what it was that I should probably hunt should I ever come to do it. That being a demon.
To tell the truth, I had only ever seen drawings and heard tales of demons when I first thought about it.
But after seeing and even facing a demon once or twice in the time since then, my feelings didn't really change.
Demons chased my grandfather and the other draenei for over twenty-five thousand years during the Long Journey.
They had a hand in the corruption of the orcs of this time, leading to the events that you know and perhaps have even lived through yourself.
The idea of hunting a demon was quite symbolic, honouring those I used to be among, and those I am now.
But saying 'I shall hunt a demon' and actually doing such is two very different things.
I am not some strong orc warrior. I am not a vindicator, nor am I an anchorite.
I have my faith, but I could not call on it to help me. I have knowledge as an artificer, but such was not to be used either with its close link to magic.
I am not very good at using traditional weapons. So the idea of facing a demon with just that alone was, is frightening.
How people can charge against them as if they are something normal to face. I cannot really understand it.
I have tried to face a demon alone one time before, nearly a year ago when we were in Nagrand. A practice run of sorts that I did for this Om'riggor during the test for the Sword of Strength. A tale for another time I suppose but it did not go so well.
Though the Legion fell before I even came to this world, there are still demons around and causing problems. as I am sure you are all keenly aware from our time in Desolace.
Vin is a demon hunter. I asked her where there might be a demon in the lands around here that I could perhaps look for.
She said that at Ashenvale's Felfire Hill, there was a demon going after travellers that had to go through the area. A succubus, supposedly.
I had never really seen one of the creatures, again, only in tales and pictures. I knew very little aside from they use charm magics.
The ride over was really quite unpleasant. All I could really feel was dread for what I was about to put myself up against.
Luckily at least, the journey through the Barrens and into the forest was quiet and not very interesting. of course that only meant my mind got to worry further over what was to come.
Eventually, I made it to what was Felfire Hill, leaving my wolf at its base. Despite it's name as a hill, it is quite the flat area after the initial climb.
Perhaps it was because I finally arrived at the site where the demon lurked, but all I could feel was sick as I walked further in.
I do not know what happened at that hill in the past, but there were a number of craters, big and small, all over.
Filled with rainwater. The ground was slick with mud. It was like Draenor. Its battlefields, pockmarked from the artillery on both sides.
I eventually found the succubus amongst the craters. It was kneeling beside a young troll that was down in the mud. I had hoped I was in time to help him and for him to be simply injured but it was too late.
I do not know exactly what the demon did to kill him but it did not look to be a quick death. The sight of him like that was really quite haunting.
The demon noticed me quite quickly. The sound of me walking in the mud gave me away from quite the way away, I suppose.
It said some words, but Eredun and Draenei have a bit too much of a difference in dialect for me to properly understand. Though I am not sure I would much like to comprehend what it had to say.
Whatever did end up saying, it soon came running closer towards me, but it kept itself at a good distance. The battle between us both, it was not anything heroic.
The succubus used their whip and shadow magics from range, which was very effective, as evidenced by my state when I arrived back here.
The whip caused so much pain that it would cause me to lock up and freeze, even from only a light hit, which the demon would follow up with knocking me down and away with its shadow magics.
Getting close was very difficult. The times I thought I managed to get next to the demon, I would suddenly black out. I would wake up moments later, but on the ground with more open cuts from its whip and cold burns from its shadows.
It wasn't long before I realised it was the creature's charm magics at play. It was hard to resist it on my own. Without the Light to protect me, I was near defenceless to it.
Things carried on like this over and over until one time, I got lucky. The demon had an injury to the back of one of its legs. The troll must had done it before he had been bested.
The demon stumbled for a moment, and I was able to just barely get in close and stab it in the abdomen.
The stabbing allowed me to keep so close that it could not use its whip nor shadows against me easily.
I managed to sink the dagger in a few more times. Of course, being a demon, that wasn't really going to be enough.
But it gave me the chance I needed. With it unable to stop me, I pushed it into one of the craters by us. Injured, with the mud slick around the sides. It could not get out.
I said about the battlefields of Draenor, yes? Back then, in the lull between battle, rain would come. Fill the craters made by the artillery. Turn the ground to mud.
Those injured but still able to move would attempt to retreat from no-man's land to get back to their side.
But they would slip. Fall into the water filled craters. The mud would be too slick for them to climb out on their own. They would cry out for help, help that could never come because of the danger.
They would call out, and they would desperately splash in the water until they didn't any more. Exhaustion would take them and they would drown.
It may have been a demon. And it may have been viciously attacking any it could. But I am not one who can sentence anything to a long, painful demise, temporary or not.
It deserved some kind of mercy. Even for the sole reason that others that suffered that fate did not get any.
I went over near to the young fallen troll â€" he had a spear with him. It was broken but it was long enough.
After waiting a bit of time for the demon to weaken in the water, I got a bit closer to the edge of the crater while hiding the spear behind me. The demon was already by the edge, having tried repeatedly to climb out in vain.
Standing back, I readied the broken spear and thrust down at the demon as best I could. It was pure luck but I managed to catch the creature in the head and end it without any further struggling.
Getting the body out of the crater would be far too dangerous, so I cut the horns from the succubus' head as some form of grim 'proof', I suppose. And I had to leave the rest of it floating in those waters.
As for the young troll, I just barely managed to pull his body down from the hill and to a place in the forest uncorrupted.
I called on the Light to bless his body and gave him his rites before setting his body to burn with holy flame.
What I did was not the troll of doing things of course, but he deserved something. He did not have anything to identify who he was, nor where he was from.
If the spirits invalidate the Om'riggor because of my call to the Light for him, so be it. I do not think I want the approval of such spirits if that is the case. That is everything.
Name given: Shadowbreaker.