Storm Peaks and back again, a shaman's tale.

[Grekthar]

It appears to be a page of Grek'thar's journal thats blown its way free of the tome.

Journal Log: 2nd Day of the Second month of the new year.

"Well, the Tournament went well...sort of. Can't believe Karak beat me...damn his raptor for its speed. Sharptongue and Talonslayer are formidable orcs, and I believe a great future awaits their pup should it take after them. But as for myself, I'm now trekking from Conquest Hold to the Storm Peaks to complete the Cleansing Ritual.

I've already completed Anger and Despair....now comes the hard part of Spirit...bah, I'll write more about this later. For now, I've managed to make camp alongside some of Tirion's Crusaders...good sort I suppose, for humans and dwarves. Least they didn't attack me on sight simply for being an orc...then again with the undead on your doorstep who would attack a possible ally in this frozen waste?

I just wish the human on the horse would stop eyeing me up and spitting so often in my direction. Least the dwarf I can put up with...it's almost like having Tarag here, the amount of ale he seems to be drinking. Friendly sort I suppose.

Well, better finish up. Part of the bargain for sharing their camp is to help keep watch on the dead. Tomorrow at first light I make way for the Crystalsong Forest, then the next I make for the Peaks...should hopefully be back in Durotar by the end of the month given the amount of time getting to the Peaks, time for the Ritual, the journey to the nearest port, and the sail journey back home. Grom damn it Silversnarl and Ansu'da are going to kill me if when i get back."

[Grekthar]

Day 3rd of Second month near afternoon.

Managed to make it to the base of the Temple of the Storms as the locals call this mountain. I can see why. There seems to be a large storm permanently above the mountains peak. But it's the tallest mountain, so here goes nothing.

Half way up now...it's getting a little harder to breathe with the thin air, but I'll get used to it in an hour or so.. There seem to be Proto-Drakes circling the mountain peak..that's gonna be an issue later..night's falling fast up here. Sense would say that now would be a good time to secure my place on this mountain and wait till dawnbreak to continue. However, sense never took into account the winds, drakes, and impracticality of making a sleeping camp here...I've barely got enough room to write in this tome, let along sleep. Hold on...somethings coming.

It would appear the Spirits are smiling on me this day. A Sin'dorei Death Knight just arrived. The look on his face proved priceless as he saw me on the mountainside. The elf looked at my tabard and wolf mask and asked if I was of the Red Blades. I replied that I was and what his business with my tribe was. He ignored my question and asked what I was doing on the side of a mountain so far from the Tribe. I replied with shaman business. He chuckled at that. His Frost Wyrm seemed to look at me like I was lunch, before its master muttered to it and pointed at the Drakes above. The Wyrm nodded and flew towards the drakes, causing them to give chase to the elf and its mount. I'm going to take this chance and climb to the peak now, hopefully make a better camp site at the top.

3rd day going into fourth. Late night.

This place...it's astonishing. The winds up here are almost like a breeze...yet if I was to poke my head beyond the pillars of this Temple, for it truly is a temple, I would feel the winds batter against me as the weather stormed around me. The only need I find for my campfire is that of heat, because there are lights dotted around this temple...and this throne that I am sat in front of. Well it looks like a throne, but made for someone at least...three times the size of the tallest Tauren!
I can see all of Northrend from atop this mountain. Well, as far as my own eyes allow me to see. Tonight I sleep, and tomorrow, I start my meditations. Tomorrow I finish this Ritual, one way, or the other.

[Grekthar]

The orc looked out over the Northern lands, and breathed in the cold air slowly through his nose, trying to take in its scents and smells. He slowly breathed out, almost like a sigh as he closed his eyes and slowly sat down cross legged on the tiled stone floor of the Temple in front of the giant throne. Around him stands ancient pillars that form a ring, each with a glowing orb attached to them. Above lies a storm of almost permanent lightning and thunder.

Grek'thar slowly breathes, the thin mountain air demanding nothing less than absolute concentration. Breath too quickly, and he uses up too much air and won't live long. Breath too slowly however, and he won't get enough air to live either.

Balance is the key. Focus is the key.

"It begins." He said as the sun slowly rose in the distance, the heat barely registering on his face in this cold land. For hours he sat there, the sun marching its course across the sky, travelling from east to west, the northern lights dancing their mystical dance in the skies above, the only sounds that he can hear being his own breathing, and the gentle sighing of the wind. As time went by, his body started to protest as it began to slowly stiffen and begin to cramp from so long spent in this seated position.

Balance is the key. Focus is the key.

As dawn became noon, they came. Slowly at first, but soon with ever growing speed. They came from all over this land of the dead, from deep within the icey tundras, the strange jungles, the forbidding glaciers they come.

The Spirits of the Dead. Their voices began as whispers that you would dismiss as the breeze, but as more come, their voices become as a maelstrom, thundering in the Temple and the mind. Shouting, yelling, screaming to be heard...it is as if a hundred cities are crying out at once in the same place.

Balance, focus, order...

And still the voices grow louder, almost screaming right into the very soul of the orc. He cringed as he could make out some of the words amidst the roaring voices, feeling their cries sting like as if he had dived into the frozen ocean without any protection.

"Yer really beginnin' te annoy me shaman." one voice said clearly above the others. "I asked what are ye doing with Korgak!"

Grek'thar slowly raised an eyebrow at this voice. "Talonslayer?" he asked before opening his eyes. All around him he could see the ghosts of the dead, they seemed to swarm around him, like he was at the eye of a storm. Standing before him, not flowing around like the other spirits was an orc female, garbed in hunting leathers. At her side stood a worg that looked familiar.

"Who the fel's Talonslayer? Now answer me shaman, why do ye have my worg?! Answer me, or I'll be sticking my foot in yer happy sack!" the she-orc growled as she proceeded to attempt to do so. Grek winced as the ghostly foot went through....a few times.

"If I may suggest...that's not going to work...you're a spirit...Igurg." he said, hedging a bet. The she-orc raised an eyebrow as she slowly placed her attacking foot back alongside her standing one. The worg at her side growled and nudged at the still seated orc. There appears to be a glow coming from the orcs pack. Grek'thar opened the pack and pulls out the worg mask that Talonslayer gave him some nights back. The she-orc growled at Earthstorm and pointed at the mask.

"Why do you have my worg in your possession?!"

"Ah...so you are Igurg...that would explain where Talonslayer got her happy sack technique." Grek muttered to himself. This was rewarded with another ghostly stomp.

"Again with this Talonslayer...who is that? And what has she got to do with my worg being with you?" Igurg growled.

"Vashnarz Talonslayer, your sister, gave me Korgak's mask until such time as I think she was ready to retrieve him...long story involving a Core Hound pup and assassinations." Grek'thar said as he placed the worg mask over Korgak's face, the mask now floating over where the worgs head was, almost like a glove. "Now then...if you don't mind Igurg, I have a Ritual to finish."

Igurg looked around at the screaming, shouting maelstrom of spirits. "Aye, and I can see yer doing a great job at it. Keep this up and ye'll end up just as bat-shit crazy as Sharpeye."

"The High Blade is not bat-shit crazy...a little twisted maybe, but that comes with the job. You got a better idea on how I should be doing this then?" Grek asked. The she-orc grinned a wicked knowing grin, and nodded slowly.

"I might, on one condition." she said , pointing at the mask. "Return that to my sister when you get back to her, and I'll help yer out with your Ritual. I might even help yer get off this mountain and back to the Tribe quicker."

Grek'thar raised an eyebrow at the offer, and rubbed his chin in thought. "I..accept your terms Wildstride. So then, what am I doing wrong?"

"Simple. Ye keep muttering about balance and focus when yer doing this whole Spirit thing. The Spirits aren't about focus. They aren't balanced, or ordered. They're chaotic. They're unbalanced. They're nature."

Grek'thar thought about this for a moment, the Spirits around them continuing to shout and scream around them wanting to be heard. Realisation dawned within his eyes. "Yes...yes I see now...how could it that that escaped me?"

Igurg grinned and Korgak chuckled. "Because ye're so focussed on focusing, yer forget the basics of what the Spirit of the Wilds is."

The orc slowly stood up, and walked over to the she-orcs spirit. "Thank you Wildstride. I hope that your niece turns out to be as wise an orc as you." he said bowing to the surprised spirit.

"Um..thank yer shaman..." she said, before coughing. "Now what yer going to do about this lot? They can't all keep swirling like a soup pot ferever." Grek'thar chuckled at the thought.

"No they cannot...I'm going to let them rest...it seems the Ritual draws them...so I'm ending the Ritual..." he said closing his eyes. He waved his hands into the air, making the runes for Fire, Earth, Air, Water, and Wilds. The Spirits slowly dispersed into the winds, returning to their resting places in the cold lands of death and snow. He slowly re-opened his eyes, looking almost drained from the working. A few new wrinkles appeared on his features.

Igurg raised an eyebrow at this. "So..that's yer bargain with the Spirits is it? I'd go about asking them if yer can change the deal to something more like Sharpeyes. Least that way, its only yer blood thats shed, and not yer days." Grek'thar waved a hand as he slowly regained his posture.

"Perhaps, when there is time. Now...I think you said something about transport?" he asked.

Igurg grinned and nodded at Korgak. The worg howled into the air and there came an answering sound....but it wasn't a howl, but a roar. A proto-drake soared down and landed before the orc and ghosts. "That?!" the orc exclaimed. Both ghosts nodded. Grek shrugged as he mounted the drake. Korgak leapt up and dropped the mask back onto the orcs lap.

"Remember our deal Grek'thar Earthstorm. And honour the Tribe. If you don't, I'm gonna haunt yer ass and stomp on yer happy sack."

[Grekthar]

((damn edit button won't work for me...forgot to add that it was now the middle of noon into the next day that the conversation happened between me Igurg and Korgak))