[Story] Firestorm

[Okiba]

((The following is a joint effort written by myself and Gashuk! Enjoy!))

Firestorm - Chapter 1

The sensation that washed over him was one that nobody gets used too yet he had endured many times now. His blood felt as if it had been drained from body and his mind had span through the sky on a tempest, all the while knowing that despite the fact he had the illusion of being static, a million worlds rushed by in a blink. Though the portal had turned from green to red, passage was still unsettling, his lungs paused for breath until the journeys end.

Mind to task.

Air thrust upon his lungs, forcing him to take a deep breath as his feet took their first surprised steps upon a new, old world. Stone, hard and flat spread out below him as his eyes came to focus on the horizon, only for his breath to be taken again. His ears came under instant bombardment from the cheers and jeers of the enemy amassed before the vanguard and the banners beyond the portal.

Hundreds, if not thousands of Iron Orcs were arrayed in formation between dozens of their infernal siege guns, approaching the portal as one armoured fist. By comparison their own forces were tiny, a nuisance bump in the road to their victory. They had to stand their ground though, weather the storm and achieve their aim if Azeroth was to have any chance.

Do not Hesitate.

All those who had gone before him, following the lead of the Human mage and Thrall, as well as those of the tribe beside and around him surged forward to positions. Weapons were already bloodied but a new urgency overcame everyone as the true scale of the threat they had come to face finally struck home.

War cries of "Lok'tar Ogar!" and "For the Alliance!" rose and fell over the forces of Alliance and horde as the Vanguard took its position at the front of the steps up to the portal. They would suffer the brunt there, while the likes of the banners spread out to care for the flanks, all the while the iron tide began its charge.

Krogon took his place with his tribe, the banners arrayed among and around them. Tauren, Troll, Elf and Pandaren. All races of the horde huddled together to aid one another. A pang of pride fluttered in his chest at seeing their unity, the unity their new Warchief had ushered in. Even if they broke this day, they would fall as one Horde, a free Horde bowing to no tyrant or demon, no dragon or slave master.

We will die free, living our last moments in defence of that freedom.

His eyes shifted around him, setting upon all those Orcs he called family. He could feel fear in the air, but see a steely determination on their faces, born of a thousand struggles and triumphs. today they would not fail, the blood they shared as a pack would see them through. The Red Blades would not meet their end now, no, today they outstretched the arm of destiny and lunged ever upward.

Lok'tar Ogar indeed...

"For the Horde! For the Blood of the Tribe!" came the cry from Bloodmark, his blood brother and chieftain. the first wave of the enemy was imminent, and they would be drowned in blood.

Krogon clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword, the solid Gronn bone handle brought him some comfort, knowing he could rely upon the deadly sharp adamantite to kill with a cleaving arc or a gentle slash. His eyes lowered to the blue hue of the alloy he had hammered into shape with his own hands, the strange but familiar sun bouncing its rays off the surface. It was then he caught glimpse of the weapons held by another to his right.

I can rely upon those, wielded by hands I myself trained.

Gashuk flexed and tensed, his weathered hands gripping the handles of his two axes in preparation. The old shadowmoon warlock now shaman once more was ready, if tense like all others. Krogon set his gaze to meet  that of his brother in arms and gave a firm nod of approval. It was returned with a firm nod and a grunt.

Turning his head back to the front, the Iron Orcs were but feet ahead of them, screaming their iron 'words'.

Now.

With that, and as one the banners thrust forward as one, a deafening united roar was let loose from lungs. Earth shaking steps were taken, Arms swung and magic cast. Krogon swung his sword to meet the neck of one foe, shrill shieks and gurgled cry's came. Blood now flowed all around and the chaos of war, with all its high prices, reigned supreme.

It is a price worth paying.

[Okiba]

Firestorm - Chapter 2

”Lok'tar Ogar! For the Blood o' t'Tribe!”, it was the only truth, resounding through every Red Blade's ears, setting fire to their throats as the war-cry forced its way out of their mouths, it was more important than breathing. It was as though time itself had been unwound, new sights, new frights renewed the Banner's ferocity and their strikes were ever as keen and fast following their Alpha, Chieftain Bloodmark.

A band of Trolls, war-paints covering their faces (or was it blood?), kept the flank clear protecting the rear of the force, back to back themselves aiming deft blows to their foe, a dummy followed by an sudden slice to a brown throat covered one with the spray of warm blood, his tongue flicking to his tusk as a smirk appeared on his face. The agility of the Troll was clearly unknown to the remaining Orc and as a second scout flipped over the bulky Orcs shoulders, the sound of dagger stabbing into flesh rang anew. It was glorious.


“Cho'gall, Cho'gall! Free him! Stop this madness!”


“Forward!” barked the Alpha and his pack rushed to his side, Gashuk's eyes turned keen by war, gazing over the danger infront of them. Hundreds of Orcs armed to the teeth, operating machinery unknown to the Shaman, it was a true statement; “Iron Horde”. His hands gripped his twin-axes with fists so hard, he questioned if he would ever unclench them, it would be fitting, Soulfury thought, to have a death grip around his weapons, fitting of an Orcish death.

“Devilstep, to your left side!” projected the Shaman through the spirit-link that connected all who pledged themselves to the Tribe, but it fell on deaf ears. It might have been the sheer roar of war that deafened the Blademaster, or something more dire, but a rabid Orc tunnel charged into the side of him.

Gashuk watched as the old wolf fell to the ground, using his new found position as a boon, he swept the Orc off his feet and leapt to his own; fang and claw finding their way home in his chest. “It would take more than that”, Gashuk thought, “To end the life of that Orc” and with a smirk on his brow they went on to find their next victim.


"Teron'gor! Break his bindings, we have no choice!”

It was difficult to notice the splendour of the land they had found themselves on, Draenor in all of its glory, yet not quite. The land was still ravaged, ravaged by iron yet it was clear to all that this portal was not a mere machine. It was fed by some fuel and it was more potent than the hottest of forges. Fel, The Dark Portal could hardly smell of anything else.


“Gul'dan! Gul'dan is here!”


“WHAT!?” roared Soulfury, his anguish matched Krogon's roar beside him, their blood-lust building even higher, as Gashuk visibly shook with fear.


“Gul'dan is free, he escaped!”


The words were like bullet wounds yet the portal collapsed behind them, cheers of victory and glee filled the air, they didn't know what this had cost; “Is this wha' it takes t'end this threat?” breathlessly muttered the Shaman, turning to find his Alpha lost within the forces, dotting his eyes left and right, Gashuk recognised none and as an iron star flew through the sky in retaliation to what the vanguard had just achieved, Draenor turned as dark as it's now empty portal, blasting Gashuk aside like a ragdoll.


“Gul'damnit Gashuk, wake up!”

[Okiba]

Firestorm - Chapter 3

I should of spent more time teaching him to pay attention to his surroundings.

Krogon rebuked himself in thought, It would not do to scold Gashuk in person at a time like this. Each step was laboured but hasty, putting all his strength into propping up the shaman as they made their way north. The exploding iron star had left a wall of flame and bodies strewn between them and the rest of the banners, with Gashuk dazed there was little else to do but haul the Orc up and run. He did not seem wounded and sported no bloody injuries, the concussion of the blast no doubt only rattled his brain.

I can't prop him up all the way...

The goal was to go north, around the portal to its eastern side. With some luck, they could find the others and rally, spirits willing and with no small amount of luck. Though his old arms were already tired, he forced himself to a strain, half supporting and half dragging the elderly shadowmoon Orc.

"Hrrgh, I can support myself now Devilstep... Came a pained groan from his new charge, Gashuk pushed Krogon's supporting arm aside to stand tall on his own. A few wobbled steps later they were moving swiftly forward, thankfully both under their own strength now.

He has spirit, that is what will get us through this.

The noise of battle coupled with the agonised wails of the dying began to face behind them as they turned a corner at the north end of the portal. The monumental structure was a map feature in its own right, and would surely of taken this Iron Horde moons, maybe even years to construct. Their determination to build such things was only further proof of their resolve to wage war.

Azeroth is safe, that is what matters. Now the tribe...

Turning the corner and rounding the northern edge of the portal, Krogon finally began to take in his surroundings in full. This was not the desolate, fel scoured wasteland of Hellfire peninsula. This land was lush, vibrant, over-grown even. A vast jungle of tree's dotted with distant iron structures, surrounding a road to that dammed portal. I this was Dreanor, which everyone now suspected, it was not the home world he remembered from his long past youth.

"Let us stay low now, Blademaster. We can't risk being seen." Spoke Gashuk, falling to a whisper as he pressed his side to the stonework on his right. He had the right idea, subterfuge was their ally now until they were re-united with tribe and friends.

With a wordless grunt and firm nod, Krogon followed suit and placed himself ahead of the shaman as they stalked what he guessed to be eastward. All types of savage jungle tree, flora and structure passed by until they at last came to the rear corner of the portal.

Pausing, they took in the sight. They see huts, dotted around a winding road. They could see broken and emptied cages, absent of prisoners, and far off a pyramid like alter. What they did not see, they could hear though. Out of sight some force was hard at work at the art of killing and battle. With some luck, it was their allies and not their enemies.

Which way now--

A hand patted his left shoulder. Gashuk grunted as he turned his head... laying eyes upon the shaman he found his brother in arms looking up to their right, narrowing as his hands gripped his axed.

Turning sharply he span and drew his own sword once more, anticipating a fight. Low and behold, two brown skinned Orc perched above them on the next level of the portal structure. These two however did not wear the solid, black armour of the others they had seen.

Varied lot, this Iron Horde

Both males wore leather skin pants, and not a lot else. bones ran around their necks as a triumphant necklace, proof of the kill or reagents in magic. Each held a weapon made of bone and teeth, neither axe nor mace in shape. But most importantly, they both lacked their left eyes...

"Look here at what we found. two dirty fel skins!" Snarled the first, taking a bottle hooked at his belt and gripping it tight...

"let us see how these demon tainted weaklings do..." grinned the second, drawing a bottle of his own. in an instant they broth threw the clay jars down a level, smashing them apart... liquid oozed out, smearing the ground black and red.

Gripping their weapons tight, Krogon and Gashuk took steps back to make space, they had no idea what to expect and no way to bound their way up at their foes.

Let us see indeed!

"Devilstep..." spoke the shaman.

"What?!" Came his impatient reply...

Turning his head to lay eyes on his friend, he could see a wide smirk beaming across his old face. Raising a hand he pointed to the liquid their two enemies had dropped on the ground. It was now bubbling, convulsing, taking shape...

"...It's blood magic."

[Okiba]

Firestorm - Chapter 4

“By t'Spirit o' Wild thumping through my veins, set aflame t'my foe with t'wrath o' fire, fill their lungs with t'tidal force o' water, teach them t'fury of t'storm and may t'earth quake with it's might underneath their uneasy feet! Fer t'Blood of t'Tribe!”; called Gashuk, his toothy grin flashing, his eyes glued to the convulsing blood, now building into bolts to orbit around their caster's midst. “Devilstep, it's Blood Magic; steel yerself!” cried the Shaman as he continued to call on the Spirits in hope to cause some destruction to their surroundings biding their time before they struck.

“You think you can tell Draenor what to do, fel-skin! This is -my- home, not yours! FOR KILROGG!”

“Gashuk, they're Bleeding Hollow!” The realisation hit hard, this really was Draenor. Gashuk had grew up with this Clan, he knew of and respected many.


The pair watched as the brown-skinned Shaman took his right hand up to the bones wrapped around his neck and used a particularly vicious tooth to gash his palm open, grinning maliciously at his new found prey as he clenched his fist over the wound. “Hear me, furies of the jungle, I give my blood for you!” It worked. The trees begun to tremor, the earth groaning beneath them, Gashuk peered to his side to make sure Devilstep kept his footing; “Grhm, he'll be doing t'same t'me, no doubt.”, smirked the Shaman making sure his feet were firm and secure before striking out.


“Lok'tar Ogar!” filled the air, “Fer t'Blood!” pierced the sky through two throats as the wolves leapt. Gashuk had forsaken the elements, his calls did very little, this Draenor was unlike both his own home-world and the adopted one they had just departed. Krogon however danced forward, thrashing his sword in a fierce yet precise motion cutting through the air. “For the Burning Blade!” growled the Blademaster appealing to the fire spirits to ignite his katana, but nothing, he grunted and was forced to side-step a rampaging Bleeding Hollow, slicing through his knee caps as he did so. Thunder filled the sky, striking trees at random igniting them, it had turned to chaos yet that was clearly the plan. “We must complete the ritual!” spat the Shaman-Alpha of the pack they faced, as he turned and ran to his flank, his apprentice rushing to take his place on the frontlines.

“We must evoke the blood! We must complete the ritual!”.

Gashuk's face turned cold, warm with the splatter of blood but pale from the chill of fear. He rallied his strength, he only had to take one blood-bolt, then they would be his to command, he was sure. Turning to face the blood-shaper apprentice, he roared and charged, both axe-hands stretched out leaving his chest bare. The weaver took no chances launching a bolt of energized blood directly for him, it struck and winded the old Shadowmoon as he wildly swung his off-axe and missed, growling as he fell to his knees clutching at the liquid now running down his leathers.


“Now, you son o' a bitch, face yer death”.


Low, cold and collected, Soulfury raised himself to his feet. Devilstep was safe guarding his flank, chopping through limbs like butter; his sword finally ablaze somehow. Soaking in the residue energy from the now boiling blood, he smiled, enjoying the burning sensation, sniffing to make sure to match the scent of the blood with it's owner; the Orc the bolt came from. Two more spinning blood-orbs orbited the weaver at the ready, he roared and launched one towards Soulfury and inches away from his face, it stopped, flinging itself back upon it's master not aimed for his chest, or his head no; the blood-bolt directly forced itself down the Bleeding Hollow's throat and surged through his body, sending a gruesome spray out of his left empty eye socket. “Forsee tha', iron scum.” spat the bitter Shaman, spinning for his next victim.


“Soulfury, ships! Look sailing around us!”; Gashuk turned to meet Krogon's pointed finger and nodded. “We need to double back!” he yelled in response, sending a lance of blood straight through an oncoming berserker. “I don't think it will be that easy old wolf!” barked the Blademaster his blows blurred out by the speed in which they were dealt, “What the fuck is that!”. Gashuk spun again confused by a hulking shadow blotting out the sunlight.

“Evoke the blood! Power to the Iron Horde! Release the Dire Orc!”

Gashuk gulped biting his tongue, he knew of this type of blood-weaving. An embellishment of the blood lust that burned within every Orc. The earth continued to shake but it wasn't the spirits working against them now, the two Red Blades worked their way to one another and took their final attack stances. “Gashuk, draw the circle, do as I've taught you” muttered Krogon, a mentor and a friend, and with a gruff smirk Gashuk did as he was told, dashing forward to carve a circle around them in the dust, big enough to give them movement. “Good, now don't let that bastard in!”. Gripping his axes in his death-grip again, Gashuk turned to face the mutated berserker frothing at the mouth, it turned to the Bleeding Hollow Alpha and roared, spitting blood, as it swiped grasping the Orc in its monstrous grip, holding the corpse as crude mace of flesh and bone. It charged at the pair and they feinted, shimmers of bloodied axe and blade dashed out at the lower regions of the hulk nicking at its legs, knees and feet hindering it's movement, the pair struggling to keep out of each other's way. They dodged and danced with the Dire Orc as it thrashed, it didn't know which one to strike, yet they were biding their time and when the alignment was right, Devilstep struck. Turning his blade to its side, he reflected a beam of sunlight into the frothing berserker's eyes temporarily blinding it, then using it's bent knees as a spring board, dashed to leap and impale katana into flesh, carving his way back down to his feet. “You ruined my circle!” chuckled the Shaman soaked from head to toe in blood and guts and never happier.


“You ruined it with your first step, Soulfury, now with me. We need to reach those ships!”

[Okiba]

Firestorm - Chapter 5

One foot in front of the other may sound simple, but sometimes it was a titanic struggle to force weary limbs to do what they least wanted. Krogon sprinted as best he could now, not too slow to hold back and not too fast so he lost Gashuk or broke what stamina he had left.

We will make it.

The pair bounded and leapt, downhill now past tree, shrub, crater and corpse toward the docks. South from the portal the Iron Horde had built a landing point for its forces and monstrous iron hulled vessels. Two such metallic leviathans sat idle in the port now, and that was where the survivors rushed. The battered flags of the Alliance, Horde and tribe all rushed as best they could toward their only avenue of escape. Rats to an un-sinkable ship.

"We won't make it Devilstep! there's too many in our way!" Laboured Gashuk with a yell from just behind. He was right, of course. The Iron Horde was hot on the heels of the survivors and there was already enemies between them and their fleeing friends. But there was no other option, they would have to move through.

"Run through! cleave wide! and knock them back! we have no other choice!" Krogon snarled in reply, tightening his grip on his weapons as the two came off the incline of the hills, now running on the solid stonework of the dock. Gashuk growled, roared and threw a bolt of lightning ahead of himself and past the Blademaster into the back of the first Iron grunt in their path, the shock leaping to another and a third... all three toppling over. not dead, but knocked down.

Spirits give me strength, fire burn my foes, air speed my steps!

He uttered a silent prayed in his own mind and felt flame run along the length of his sword, his foot-steps quickened and resolve hardened. They would make it, or die trying.

"Lok'tar Ogar! For the Horde!" Came their war cry, the air shuddered with their ferocity as axe and sword met iron horde necks. as their legs thrust forward now they set foot upon the pier, swinging their weapons wildly to carve a path forward through the gaggle of enemies between them and safety. Blood flew in streams and jets as hand flung lightning and a swirling blade of flame forced onward.

We can make it, we will make it.

"You will die here--!" Came the war cry of one foe, leaping at Krogon from behind, axe in hand... only to find a flaming bolt of magma to greet him, Gashuk had aimed well and engulfed the Iron Orcs face with such force it sent him over the pier side and into the water with a shriek. though one had been flung aside, more pressed in from behind them now, chasing and pushing as their pace slowed, bogged down by the melee and overwhelming numbers.

Then they saw it. Ragged gasps of breathe escaping their lungs as they saw fire and smoke billow forth from the funnels of the iron ships, the roar of engines began and ropes cast off. They were leaving without them.

"We're out of time Devilstep-- Lok'tar!" Roared Gashuk, cleaving an axe down into the shoulder of another, the gush of blood sprayed both their faces as the victor wrenched his weapon free and the victim toppled down and over.

Not yet, not today...

"Get down... Get down!" He roared, he had only one option now.

Fire guide me!

Focusing as best he could, he called upon fire. That element he was most adept with, the element of destruction and change. He would use it as best he knew how. Gashuk widened his eyes in comprehension, throwing his whole body to the ground, flame, embers and sparks jutting from Krogon's blade in a torrent of fiery death. As their foes thought their victory over the unruly pair was close at hand they dived forward, paying no heed to the deadly weapon about to be unleashed, all sides a mass of iron Orcs.

Now.

The fire in his mind overcame him like a pyre in his mind, flames ran down hid veins and through his body as the spirit took him over, even his eyes became as flame... Then he began. As their foes came within inches he moved, spinning, slashing, carving, cleaving and impaling in a whirlwind of steel and hot death. Bodies too close flew aside without limbs or heads, some toppled over the edges of the pier screaming with burns of slit throats. A huge space was forced, their enemy thrown back by surprise, shock and wounds.

Stop.

His breath ran ragged as he suddenly stopped, the sensation of flame washing away as his body felt overwhelmed, exhausted. He was at last flagging...

"Storm!" Roared Gashuk, leaping to his feet. A wave of wind and two bolts of lightning hurtled forth north, blowing back any last would be assailant as he grabbed Krogon by the shoulder and pushed him onward... The path was clear and they had a chance!

Thrust forward, one leg dragging over the other Krogon beat back his exhaustion. The spirit of fire had taken its toll, fire stripping the strength from his limbs but he had to keep moving.

"The ships too far off the pier... the ships too--" Gashuk gasped and muttered as they drew near the end of the pier, seeing the massive gap now between the hull of the iron vessel and the dock side. Their pack, allies and horde cheered for them, yelling to leap and take a chance...

Don't slow down.

"Jump Soulfury! Jump!" Krogon roared, throwing all his strength into the leap as he bounded over the edge, the shadowmoon shaman right behind. Throwing his sword arm upward he turned the blade in his hand and thrust downwards, point first. Indeed, they did not make the leap, but spirits be thanked the blade reached the hull. Impaling, carving and sliding half a foot to a stop, Krogon dangled off the side of the ship... Gashuk slamming into his back, grabbing the Blademaster by the feet. And so there they dangled above the sea, their enemies behind screaming insults from the shore, and friends above cheering from the deck, all the while Krogon's arms screaming with agony under his weight and the shamans, gripping to the weapon for dear life.

"Throw us a Gul'dammed Rope!" Gashuk pleaded, gasping for air.

[Gashuk]

So much awesome glad to be a part Kro!