Resolve

[Bamm]

_{Optional mood music https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cIrefaQWNU}

Resolve

"Breathe in, breathe out. Calm yourself let your heartbeat settle, even if the world around you is burning. Feel the ley line energy you've tapped into, control it, move with it, don't let it control you."

Arkail muttered this under his breath, over and over. His jaw still aching, still healing from his last encounter with this "Iron Horde" He stood ready in front of the portal with his tribe, his friends and the rest of the banners.

It wasn't fear that gripped him like he thought it would. He was feeling... ready? A feeling which confused him. The night before had been sleepless. He had experienced this many times before. During the rebellion and multiple other skirmishes, but now standing here he was just... ready come what may.

He had returned just in time for the assault on the portal. Many had been given time to say goodbye to family, mates, lovers, children.

Arkail had none of these, he instead returned to the Undercity it was to be only the briefest of visits, but if anywhere on Azeroth he considered home besides being with his tribe, it was there.

He walked the dank darkened streets, he remembered leaving here once. A life time ago it felt now, full of arrogant, naive bluster, for his book on Orcish tribes and stories. To seek out the Red blade last to be cataloged and recorded in his book. He never did publish it... shame he thought to himself. Would have been nice to leave something of mine behind, the manuscript had been destroyed in the rebellion in the siege of Zoram gar.  Using his life's work as a cudgel to defend a fellow rebel's life from Kor'kron axes. A worthwhile trade. One that he paid gladly.

But now he stood facing his own personal apocalypse. The dark portal loomed over them, the war cries ringing out. His name, his exploits would be unremembered, even if they succeeded in destroying the portal and all the hopes that it would entail come true, It did not matter. He would play his part, he, Arkail Blastblade the scribe, did not matter. He was Red Blade first, everything else was second. He was ready.

He finished his mantra, never was very good at arcane anyways, never really mastered it. For him it was part science, part instinct, he never did finish his Gul'thuak training, find time for a mate, children and all that entailed no matter he thought with a wry if sad smile.

The cry went out and they charged, Arkail roared his voice joining with the others. He drew his blade the soft glow humming gently and charged with tribe...

Chaos ensued
He was still alive once he reached the portal somehow he had cut his way though. He stepped though to be met with a sight that took his breath away, a near endless sea of uncorrupted orcs stood before him, explosions peppered the ground  and sky around arkail, but he ran forward the world behind him for all he cared no longer existed. Allies and enemies fell around him. Arkail moved only forward striking down several in his path, he laughed as he ran mad wild uncontrolled laughter. A whistling noise barreled down upon him He looked up to see a cannon ball of fire and metal hurtling towards him. Arkail took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A deafening blast shook him from all notion of reality and time, he felt as it he was both falling and ascending all at once.

Arkail hit the ground the hard rolling as he did.


**Hours pass**


Arkail opened his eyes, he was staring at a unknown yet familiar sky. A sky he had heard tales of as a cub, a tale he had pestered the adults for repeatedly. He always felt even as a cub there was power in tales. That's all history ever was anyway: The best tales. And those are worth remembering.

In a daze he got up and wandered forward, looking back he stared at a broken portal in the distance and wondered if it was important, He was dead wasn't he, he felt sure of it. A portal was important but for what?

To close!  All at once his mind racing to catch up with him. What, where was he? Arkail spun around he was in a dense jungle frantically. He was alive and barring a few minor cuts and several painful welts, burns and bruises he was still amongst the living.
But now what ? Where were the others, he alone couldn't be the only survivor? It was then a arrow twanged into a tree infront of him, Arkail stood motionless blinking at it like a Gnoll that had been asked to figure out the square root of a prime number. It wasn't until several other of the previous arrow compatriots flew towards him that Arkail sprang into a full speed gallop, Arkail ran as fast his legs could carry him over and below roots and vines he leapt. The arrows bouncing off the rocks and underbrush around him. His breathing growing harder it would soon be over.

Till a single outstretched brown skinned arm thick with muscle reached out and dragged him into the darkness in a single swift motion. Arkail went to scream but found the single arm had a fellow equally muscle bound arm to silence his mouth, muffling his scream. A thunder of footsteps and commotion fled past Arkail's eyes. A moment passed and he found himself freed, if only now weaponless, All Arkail could see was the arms in the darkness it was inspecting his blade.

Stranger! The darkness ridden arms said. State your name, you came though the portal, Yes? you blew it up ? You breathe loudly stop it...
That was a lot of questions to get in a short space of time. I am Arkail Blastblade of the Red Blade, i did come though the portal and i am glad it is closed, I apologies for the breathing Undercity living takes its toil and all ...

"Hmmpt" was the only reply, What manner of blessing is upon your blade its glows and sings.

That's a magic infused into the steel when i passed my Om'riggor i...

"Om'riggor huh you strangers practise that...odd"

Arkail swallowed hard and straightened in muddy and tattered robe. "Might i ask who you are, may i thank my rescuer properly where am i ? Where is my tribe what happens now and i would like my blade....if i may ask also."

"You talk oddly" the shadowed arms replied.

"I am Vrakk of the frostwolves a scout you're in Gorgrond, near Tanaan, still. A dangerous place for a noisy child to be

" The figure loomed from the dark inspecting Arkail. He was no older than he yet his eyes showed an almost animal quality. He inspected the blade briefly before tossing it to Arkail. You're safe for now, but i'd advise traveling with me back to Frostfire, Several of my tribe were sent to scout the portal, now there is no more portal My chieftain will need to be informed, Come Arkail of the red blade you travel with me for now...

And so they set out.

[Bamm]

Resolve Part two

It was near dawn, Arkail dropped to his knees breathing heavily. He couldn't continue anymore. They had been moving for hours.  His mouth was dry his throat felt as it was about to crack. A hand fell upon his shoulder, it was Vrakk's he hadnt said a word since they set out, nothing but hand gestures for him to stay still, get down, move forward. Arkail looked up at Vrakk with a sly grin.

Vrakk's face was still, no emotion. "nearly there" he said

"Here" he handed Arkail a waterskin as he glanced about scanning the area. "The jungle starts to thin out see the mountians another hour or two."

Arkail drank from the waterskin wiping his mouth nodding in agreement.
"Rest over" they will be on us till we reach the safety of Frostfir...
Vrakk's eyes widened as he looked down  at his chest several darts dotted his chest and he began to foam at the mouth.
Arkail caught him as he fell, but he was dead. Arkail instinctively ducked his head as a volley of darts sung as they flew over him.  Arkail looked back down to Vrakk, he was gone. Gathering all the energy he could Arkail set out in frantic sprint towards the mountains, out of panic he spoke into the link, a rarity for him as he never understood how it worked, but was greeted with only ominous slience.

For near a hour he ran till he collapsed.
Stumbling then skidding in the mud. Why was he running? He was alone in a unknown world. He slowly got to his feet using his sword as a crutch to get up. Wiping the mud from his face, he felt the cold wind behind him glancing over his shoulder he saw the mountain path, he turned his face back and let out a deep breath. He removed the mud from his blade in a single swinging motion and held it ready in front of him in one hand, the other making circular gestures in the air his mouth muttering arcane words, with his foot he scratched a odd symbols in the dirt, the bushes in front of him began to rustle. And arkail let out a long deep roar. He'd die on his feet.

FOR THE BLOOD OF THE TRIBE !

Two iron clad Orcs sprung from the bushes. Instantly attacking, Arkail managed somehow to parry a blow with his sword connecting at point blank range a bolt of energy into the first Orc's neck blowing a hole near clean though it. The Orc went down gurgling and gasping for air. Arkail was quick enough nor skilled enough to block the second Orcs attack the axe burying deep into his  spell arm.. Arkail let out  pained roar his sword hand glowing fiercely. In riposte Arkail lunged a strike at the Orc, a blow the Orc defended but to the orcs surprise the Arcane gathering in Arkails blade shattered his axe. Dumbfounded its mouth hung open. To which Arkail answered with a horizontal slash across his jaw, killing the Orc.

Arkail fell backwards exhausted. I really got let Devilstep teach me how to use thing.  Arkail began to laugh to himself loudly. Arkail looked down at his arm it would need treatment and he had no first aid supplies with anymore, shedding his pack at a attempt to run faster and lighter. he could barely lift his arm, yet he could wiggle his fingers. A good sign.

He craned his head back and looked at the mountain path.. only a little further. His only chance now was to find the Frostwolves. Slowly but surely Arkail got his feet and began up the mountain pass.