Exit the Blackrock

[Orgash]

Dark. Cavernous. Hot.

The cautious caravan of hardy orcs, encroaching upon the seemingly abandoned recesses of  their ancient enemy's home, could not shake the feeling of sinister apprehension, compounded by the horrendous stench assaulting their noses violently from every grimy corner. Many of the younger orcs were dumbfounded at the distant familiarity of this dark feeling, while the older orcs knew it very well, but dared not reflect upon the atrocities committed by their race that were signed by this same feeling. Regardless, most of them hid their apprehension very well, and progressed through the derelict labyrinth with attention and readiness, at an urgent pace.

But why? Why would they be here, of all places? Is this not Blackrock Spire? A site that lays battered and demolished, a testament of the false Horde's defeat years ago at the hands of the new Horde's heroes? Have these stoney corridors and flaming hot pathways not been stripped of all their threat to the denizens of Azeroth eons ago? Then why are we here? And what or who is it that we're seeking? It certainly couldn't be Rend; he was slain long ago! And the threat of the dark horde has long been obsolete. Who could it be? A faction of Blackrock warriors that escaped our wrath and perhaps plotting against us? Maybe an old commander with a personal vendetta against our clan. Even more likely, none of the above: maybe the perpetrator of this heinous crime is a current enemy of the tribe, with an unknown plan of malicious proportions being concocted within this abode; perhaps the Blackblood Clan, or an Alliance faction of past bloodshed. So many questions! Either way though, it doesn't matter. All that matters is confronting those who dare challenge the orcs of the Red Blade and delivering our enemies to a swift, fatal justice.

The Spinebreaker lead the advance with surefooted steps, moving pacefully and carving his way through the chambers and corridors with such confidence as to make one think this was his own home. Closely following his lead were the tribe's elders, among which were present such figures as <A>, <B>, <C>, and <D>, attesting to the direness of the situation. Many of the tribe's revered members followed suit, such as <E>, <F>, <G>, <H> and <I>, disgruntled at the endeavor and the foulness of this remnant terrain from a distant past, some questioning the accuracy of their spearheading guide, others baffled at this seeming, and rather surprising, semblance of leadership.

Soon, they entered a spacious chamber well lit by candles, where were visible hightened podiums on all four sides, and an arching bridge overhead. They had entered through the room's only gate, which had a set of spiked metal bars for locking its occupiers in; whatever was kept in this room, it wasn't meant to get out. In all probability, this room was a gladiator grounds of sorts, where the merciless brutality of one entity always gave way to the final folly of another's, to the great entertainment of all who may have, in a previous time, observed in excitement from the above platforms. Suddenly, as the last of the orc brigade walked into the room, a loud THUD!!! The gate had lowered instantly, sealing them in! What trickery is this?! As the tribe looked around and tightened their grips on their weapons of choice, preparing both battle cry and spell chant, a sly smirk slowly crept on the face of their guide, invisible to his companions, as he was facing the front of the room, where he stopped suddenly moments after entering this great spectating ground, as though all his movements were scripted.

Preparing for the worst, armed and ready, the orcs' battle prowess was in full effect. Suddely, they all gazed as multiple figures and shadows appeared on the platforms at the top, concealed by the lack of light. Finally, a figure larger than the rest appeared from a door behind the largest podium and walked ahead of his counterparts, yet similarly concealed, atop the bridge overlooking our mettled party, like a hawk eyeing its imminent prey.

The Spinebreaker, showing no signs of battle-readiness or preparation, suddenly kneeled to the ground and lowered his head, to everyone's shock, and uttered the following words:

“Hurr, hurr, hurr...Finally, Orgash complete task, master. Orgash take long time, and toil with many trouble, but now...Orgash finally deliver to you...finest of Horde fighters, for you prize!”

“Most impressive, Orgash. I didn't expect to ever see your face around here ever again. Some said you were slain and devoured by spiders the moment you were sent out of the mountain. To see you've survived, and now bring me back a handful of the horde's worthiest combatants! Hah! Even your prodigal brother could not have pulled this one off! Well done...Warlord! Yes, Orgash! Your gift pleases me so as to bestow all your former rank and privileges upon you! You are exile no more! In fact, for this, you shall be rewarded generously! A GREAT feast and plenty riches await you from here onward!” replied the figure rapaciously, with loud excitement “Cultists! Seize them!”

At this, many robed figures around the room's higher grounds thrust their arms forward and began casting a spell that swiftly created a magic barrier around our heroes, greatly limiting their movement and weakening their capabilities, but not their resolve. At this, Orgash now turned around, the hidden smirk on his face clearly visible to all, along with a pompous stare on his eyes, gleaming with a never-before-seen beam of satisfaction. He boldly took a few steps closer to the constricted orcs, and conceitedly spoke the following words:

“Orgash make many sacrifice for get you here. Sacrifice pride of Orgash. Sacrifice strength of Orgash. Sacrifice become leader, for become whelp of you clan! From first day, Orgash try trick you for come here, for destroy strongest warriors of Horde from within, when Orgash hear all orcs of Orgrimmar tell best fighters in all horde orcs of Red Blade clan! ...Orgash work looooong time for this, over and over obey, obey, obey and obey all commands, like little worm for trample under all you foot! And NEVER nothing good enough! Orgash must become this! Orgash must become that! Everyday Orgash do all Orgash told, but everyday Orgash take insult and beating for know one day...one day Orgash take revenge back on all you! Har har har, NOW that day, WHELPS! NOW ORGASH chieftain of Red Blade!”

He then paused a while, basking in the villainy of his forseen achievement, feeling strong along with his former brothers and sisters, his old rank attained, and all that he had toiled for now within his grasp, so close that he could feel the glory, all that he had suffered for to this moment. Shortly, he continued:

“All Orgash know strength, power, evil. All weak, mercy and good orc Orgash know die before Orgash. First, Mokgrash fall, slay by Orgash own hands. Then orc after orc fall before Orgash might! All Orgash know strength, all Orgash know prowess, all Orgash know...ORGASH!”

At this his superior, reigning atop his impregnable platform, smiled contently, a wide smile that was felt by all, though his face was masked by darkness. Orgash then calmed down, and with a blank face devoid of emotion, continued:

“...but then Orgash meet clan of Red Blade. Orgash always not do what told. Orgash many time insult and assault orcs of blade, even almost kill one. And all time, even though Orgash want break all, Orgash...Orgash not see tribe fight back. First Orgash think because all weak, but then...but then Orgash see...Orgash see tribe not want fight back not because fear Orgash but because tribe not see Orgash great mighty orc for become jealous, tribe see Orgash...as brother”

After a short pause that dumbfounded everyone present, Orgash concluded:

“Now Orgash know what mean...to have clan. To fight for...something”

At this, his superior, now suddenly enraged, switching to being profoundly infuriated just as easily as he had been irrevocably pleased only moments ago, yelled in violent anger that shook the foundation of the entire chamber:

“ORGASH! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF TH-”

But before he could complete his words, Orgash, excercising all the strength, speed, agility and might he could possibly muster, with movement that was as perfect as the coordination between cogs in a well-oiled machine, and as quick as a jolt of thunder striking the grounds of Desolace, picked up his axe, twisted around in unrelenting fury and thrust his weapon with such magnificent force and accuracy that, like shrapnel from a zepplin explosion breaking the sound barrier as it thrusts through the air, within an instant from his releasing it, found its way into the shoulder and neck of this new, mysterious elder of his former clan, and lodged itself so voraciously into its intended victim that he was knocked back violently, lifting him off his feet, only to fall with great brutality into the ground below, and embrace a death with no final words.

At this sight a chill ran down the spines of all the channellers, so much so that they lost their concentration just enough for <J>, <K>, and <L>, whose rage had thus far only been contained by their limited space, burst forth with bellowing ferocity and turned the tables against their baffled captors. Amidst the ensuing chaos, Orgash, who by now had turned to face the family he had just betrayed, with hands empty and suspended and a face full of silent despair, in the knowledge that he had now indeed lost everything, shared a glance across the room with <M>, a glance that spoke a thousand words between them, a glance that slowed time to hours, from the seconds it took the ensuing bloodshed around them to conclude...

A deafening silence now resounded, resonating across the chamber and the heads of its current inhabitants, now reduced to half the number, with the only surviving Blackrock now facing the combined might of those with whose ties he had just forsaken, ready as ever to accept the only possible fate that was left for him.

He fell to his knees, his eyes staring dejectedly at the ground.

“Finish it”

A long pause succeeded this defining statement, facing a plethora of reactions from the tribe. Some lay dormant, slow to take in the reality of all that had just occured in this brief excerpt of time, others whose blood was still boiling remained angry and apprehensive, yet did not know who to direct their anger at, and yet still others more thought only of how to repair the damage caused with melancholy, while a wisened few remained calm, understanding all that had just transpired, and perhaps, though definately taken by surprise, may have expected it long before it happened, yet contemplating what course of action must be taken next. The bristling calm, interrupted only by the clanking of sheathed and dropped weaponry, taps between orcs' hands and shoulders, and the buzz of healing spells being cast among them, was now broken by <N>, who decisively picked up a lodged axe from its upside-down handle, dislodged it off from the stone and speedily walked towards the conquered traitor, and with little hesitation lifted the axe high above his head, preparing to swing wrathfully with lethal effect.

“ENOUGH!”

At this <N> froze his movement with the axe over his head, and all but Orgash turned around to the source of the voice, which demanded unchallenged respect. From behind the crowd emerged <O>, who walked forward to the kneeling orc before the submission of all, and stood before him next to <N>, who had now lowered his weapon in silence and paced backwards to the rest of the tribe. <O> stared at Orgash patiently from underneath his bloodied wolf mask, and following a few tenuous seconds the fallen orc exclaimed:

“Why? ...You tell him stop? He not...must...stop”

A few more seconds passed before the revered voice replied:

“Enough blood was shed this night. We are not like the Blackrock, nor are we slaves to our fury any longer, orc”

“No...more reason...for live. Nothing...left. Please...slay Orgash”

“Orgash may have yet reason to live, though he may not know it”

At this the lowered orc raised his head with surprising anger, revealing tears pouring rapidly down his face in desparation, and growled loudly:

“ORGASH SAY KILL! NO MORE TO LIVE!”

Unflinching, <O> continued to stand still as a statue before the irrational despair of his subject, like a hunter observing the wild flinching of a shot caribou, appraising its futility. Shortly but surely, the caribou in question began to tremble, and tears burst forth ever more increasingly from its sullen eyes, as it exclaimed, in a final bid for imploration:

“...what Orgash do now? Nothing left for Orgash...nothing for fight for, no one for defeat, and no one for defend”

“There will always be goals in this world worth fighting for, and always those that need defending, and always those whose evil must be put to an end. As to finding them, I cannot tell you what to fight for, who to protect, and who to pursue. That, Blackrock, is your charge, and yours alone”

<O> then continued:

“Now rise. Rise from your pity and again begin a journey of finding who you are and what your place is in this world”, turning around and pointing at the tribe “Each and every one of them, of us, has had to find what is truly worthy for them to fight for: be it honour, family, the tribe, the horde as a whole, or the well-being and survival of this entire universe and all others beyond it. All have met setbacks, and all were brought to their knees by crushing defeats to their bodies, minds and souls, but that...that is the true hallmark of a great champion; we all fall, but the challenge is to rise to your feet afterwards...every time”

At this, by a proccess that was painfully slow, and subjected to the undivided attention of all present, the fallen orc rose to his feet, slowly but surely, to a defeated posture, and took his time before he exclaimed:

“If Orgash...if Orgash die this night...Orgash life was...worth living...only because have chance of be with tribe...even if only for small time”, wiping his tears and recollecting his composure with a stern face.

At the receeding bewilderment of all present, the conquered but reclaimed Blackrock orc lifted his head, and roared with renewed resolve for all to hear:

“Orgash no can come back to tribe now. Orgash learn many thing from tribe. Orgash learn strength of fist, strength of axe, strength of heart, strength of mind, and learn respect...but Orgash Blackrock orc. Orgash always be Blackrock. Orgash no can change where Orgash come from...but Orgash can change where Orgash go. In all Orgash life, Orgash never forget what tribe do for Orgash. Tribe give Orgash...reason for fight!”

With these words, the orc sprinted past the flock with a fresh vigor, and darted down the endless corridors, his footsteps echoing quieter and quieter till they were silent, never to be heard of again.
 











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OOC:

Alright, so here's how this works: Everyone chooses a letter (you can choose more than one, but limited to two) of the ones mentioned above, and exclaim that it was you. Tell me in-game and I'll edit it to put your name in there instead of the letter if you'd like. Then you reply with an IC account of your own reactions, thoughts and occurances during the event. It's also possible to reply with an IC account without choosing a letter; the letters are just for people who would choose to have been the ones involved in necessary critical moments. Also, for obvious reasons, the letter <M> is reserved for Vezara. Please limit all replies to IC responses in this manner, and don't make any OOC posts.

Thank you

[Orgash]

Looking back at this, my grammar and writing tools were f*cking terrible. I really need to clean this mess up, probably will do so eventually.