A humble reminder

[Morgeth]

Pain; it moves us in different ways, yet the screams always seem so familiar. She can hear them now, even behind the lines of many plated orcs, they reach her ears. But above all, she can hear the roaring defiance of her people and their allies, as the rush to meet their shared enemies. The warlock stands separated from the fray, from where she can do the most damage, and in a terrible display of what the orcs once were, her arms rise and with that the very sky becomes one of turmoil. The clouds twist and crumble away, not revealing an untainted canvas of nightfall, but only the sickening dust from which fire soon rains. Her eyes, once dark and full of emotion, fly open and as she regards the battlefield, the warlock's now scarlet gaze narrows down to mere slivers of an ember glow.

The pale tongue twists as it grants not wisdom, nor words of love, to her people. Instead she cries out in a language that ought to be banished and forgotten, and with that many screams take on an entirely different tune. Since when did pain of sword and dagger ever compare to the infectious, boiling sensation of the curses she holds within her power to wield?

It becomes obvious to her, in the middle of all this, how special she is. Not only how she towers above them all, but also how very small they are. In fact, it is growing more difficult to tell them apart. Elf from human, human from orc and the other way around. They grow faceless. And why should recognition be something to spare them from experiencing her judgement, which she so rightfully bestows upon anything that now comes in her path.

Yes, yes! This power was never meant to be controlled, never supposed to be contained and as she wields it, a world of new truths unfold before her very, red eyes. A roaring laugh, which she can not refrain from, taints the bloodied battlefields and with her obvious joy, the warlock twists her foul magic and sends a bolt of green fire into the back of the orc standing closest to her.His gurgling surprise proves as a testament to their inferiority. They do not understand power - never have - and thus she must teach them this lesson again. Their funeral pyres are granted here and now, as the very ground is set ablaze in corrupt fire.

Her eyes travel this new battlefield, belonging to her alone, and eventually hit the face of an all too familiar face, clad in its usual wolf mask. He looks at her, and despite all the sorrow his eyes convey - all the pain - she can do nothing but smile back. His bow trembles as it is raised, and stepping over the still burning corpse of one of his own tribal members, Kozgugore Feraleye takes aim. His plans are thwarted by her own doings, as the warlock gains enough respect for the weapon to again growl and weave her magic into his flesh and bone.
The chieftain is inevitably brought to his knees and his former mate greets him to the ground with a sneer. Her eyes travel his face without care and as her fingers extend, they summon enough power to deal a single, last blow.

She can hear them now, the many voices - whispering in the corners of her mind - as they describe her undoubted path to glory. The many souls of those with power, who have passed before her, and now linger to grant her their twisted hands in guiding her forward. The warlock inhales as she motions her hand forward to unleash her judgement upon the kneeling orc. The sound of flesh being ripped apart brings surprise to her face, and especially so when she looks down and bares witness to the tip of the sword that has been driven through her back and into her body so far, that its bloodied steel is visible even through her chest.

A loud gasp breaks from the stained lips as she tries to turn around to counter this lethal attack, but there's a limit to how much even this serpent can twist herself. Gruulg's plated face is still brought down close enough for her to view his green features, as they mold into a grim visage. Her hacking breath is cut short as the orc withdraws his weapon, only to lift it again. In one, fluent motion he brings the sword down and when its edge meets with her throat, Morgeth screams in terror.


The same scream is upon her lips as her eyes fly open to view not a field of strife, but instead the strangely calm waves of the sea at the southern coastline of the Howling Fjords. As the dream fades, as dreams rightfully should, her scream does the same. This doesn't stop the young warlock from panting heavily, as she bathes in a pool of her own, cold sweat. She cradles her head into her hands, desperately trying to rid her mind of the awful images that still flash before her eyes.

When finally slumping back to the soft grass with a hoarse sigh, Morgeth's hands travel down to the bloated stomach that stretches her waistline from its previous boundaries. Sparing a glance down to her own pregnancy, the warlock grits her teeth in agonized realisation of how her nightly vision has granted her a peek at a possible future, should she choose to grow weak and irresponsible. It is a humbling experience, to say the least, but her eyes still darken in their grim resolve, as to not grant the world another crazed fel magician. The spirits know - as they have now showed her - that her people have seen far too many of those already.

She will not become one of them.

[Claws]

wow
Very Nice well written good atmosphere.
One of the best I have seen here.
MORE.  MORE.

[Norv]

(( Wonderful reading! Just, wonderful! ))

[Norv]

((
   And-and-and
   *still attempting to recover breath*
   it would be so nice if-if you'd agree to have it on the wiki!
   
   *falls back*
))

[Kozgugore]

(( Rawr! Evil Morgz! The Kozstar fails hard, but it's still a lovely piece! Fancy example of your verbal whoopass! As Claws said; MOAR! *Twitch* ))

[Greggar]

(( wut? why do i always miss the rp that will be stories later on ;3 kinda ironic for me, varog gor the 'bodyguard' har ;3 and bad morgeth hurt koz :<
still nicely written though ^^ ))

[Kozgugore]

(( It's a dream. It didn't happen in game. ))

[Greggar]

(( oooh, i didn't notice that typical me again -,- ))

[Nazkhur]

((Great story, fun to read. Is this the future? A rebellion? The less than active minds of Bugor, Osan and Gruulg must be plotting something. ))

[Gruulg]

Uf widdem 'ead!

Very nais tale morgeth

[Morgeth]

((Thank you! Very nice to hear that it's readable and likeable!

I'll post it on the wiki, Norv!

And yurr, who knows what the future holds. Hopefully not this, at least. Poor, misunderstood warlocks.

Thank you all for reading it!))

[Claws]

(( It's a dream. It didn't happen in game. ))

Or did it.
Perhaps it did and Koz to scared ta say.
The revolution has it started from some one close to Koz.
From hands not expected.

((Please do not wake up yet Morgeth )) 

[Greggar]

(( smily attack! ))

[Kozgugore]

(( Never! Send out the reprisal squads! Death to the revolution! ))

[Braggha]

((

Its just plain excellent. Best i saw here.
I always knew that warlocks have incredible RP potential.

On a sidenote, one day i tried to write Grockh's nightmares, his visions and endless fight with voices in his head but failed due to my poor english But this text is very inspiring, maybe i'll be able to figure something.

Thanks fot this, Mor
(by the way, in Russian, "Mor" means "plague", "mass deaths" )

))