I better see screenshots of dancing orcs!
...or... or...
I'll sulk!
>:(
20/03/2018 09:52Posted by RazaronRazor Hill, 20:30 server time.
I'll try to attend, depending on how long the speech of unity will be.
That would be Saturday, mind. Though, having said that, some context may be lost to those who might not entirely be in the know of the clan's own background and spirits if I understand Razaron's plans correctly. Even so, it might still be an interesting watch for outsiders, so if he's open for visitors, I see no harm in it!
Bamboo
The winds caress could not reach him here. No longer did that gentle touch of air soothe the skin, instead it harassed the leafy tops of the vast, impenetrable bamboo forest with utter impotence. No, down here he would have to be neglected and warm, stifled by humidity among the creaking greenery. He had long left behind the safety of open sky the roads hours ago, to stalk through this maze of jade and vermillion thicket, avoiding the rare beams and in streams of light that pierced the canopy. No, here he needed to move carefully and with purpose, preferably unseen.
Gripping his heavy polearm tight in his right hand, he was forced to duck, pivot and turn constantly so as to avoid clipping or rustling the bamboo with either blade or shaft as he navigated onward. One slow, carefully placed foot at a time. Unseen was one thing, unheard upon a forest floor covered in dry fallen foliage? It was near impossible. Each foot wrapped in cloth up to the knee had to roll the dice every time it descend back to the ground, what may have looked like a safe spot could easily have a hidden twig or dry leaf bound to make that one awkward noise. Even drawing a breath felt like a measured exercise, having to repress the urge for desperate gasps of air.
Okiba paused, and rolled his left shoulder. It had healed, or was healing, depending on your view of old wounds. The twin scars, still fresh from the work of a skilled surgeons blade, had recently had stitches removed. One sat over his collar bone and the other by his left shoulder blade, both horizontal and Orcs finger in length. It ached, a little, somewhere deep within the fleshy muscle between collar bone and back, but it had healed and was well on its way to being fully recovered.
Thank the spirits for that…
The Orc monk mused, uncorking his water skin to sate his light thirst and wet his sweaty brow. The heat within the Bamboo woods of the jade forest could be stifling, even so early in spring. But it was what he wanted. The rocky, inclined terrain, the challenge of moving unseen, It required effort to move through. An ideal activity, it demanded he be mindful and consider every movement of his hands as he hauled his weighted weapon, and to be careful of each step lest it alert his prey.
One foot, one breath, one thought at a time. Technique over haste.
He considered. Caution would be his ally. Or a lack of mindfulness within his surroundings? Very possibly his death. He was hunting a Tiger; an impressive specimen the local brewers had spotted some days before. It hadn’t taken long for news to reach the temple of the jade serpent, inspiring any would be skilled hunters to seek it out. Fortunately no hunters were available, and Okiba was never one to miss a chance at repaying the kindness of his hosts, especially if it meant exercise.
Hunting is a form of rehabilitation, no?
He smirked to himself, lapping the last drops of water from the edge of his mouth. His eyes slowly scanned the area. He knew the way back to the road; it was south and behind him, while he faced north. All clues to the tiger and its den led north. Thus that remained his path, despite the thicket becoming increasingly intent on slowing his pace.
And thus I must press on, keep momentum, but not over exert or lose awareness.
Re-attaching the water skin to his belt, he rolled his right shoulder then tightened his grip on his weapon before pressing on. He must have stalked two miles, maybe three now? He was by no means a wilds Orc, or hunter, but it didn’t take a master to acknowledge he needed to improve his stamina. The tell tale signs of too much bed rest after his surgery manifested in great beads of sweat running down his bare back.
Damnable heat.
He furrowed his brow, trying to push through the self annoyance that he hadn’t brought more water or failed to find a better way into the forest. He’d much rather of been back with the clan, by the campfire eating freshly butchered boar or Zhevra. It had been near four months now though since he had to depart to see to his wound, would they even remember him? He remembered them…
He froze. His foot had landed in something soft, and warm. He cursed, aloud. The only thing in the forest you stood in that could be described like that was what came out the wrong end of an animal. Lifting his foot to gaze on the mess at the bottom of his cloth-wrapped sandal, he found no surprise that he had indeed stood in a giant lump of still steaming excrement.
”For the love of—“ He began to exclaim before his body froze. Intuition and sensory awareness took control as the need to bemoan his lot in life fell away. He didn’t know much about tracking, but he knew that when animal mess had ‘fur’ in it, he knew it had come from a predator. Narrowing his eyes, this ‘specimen’ was packed full of stag fur… it was close. Hee should have been more alert, mindful and with his eyes on his task instead of day dreaming about the clan. Because no sooner had he realized the proximity of his target, did he hear a solitary twig snap under paw behind him.
”Fu—“
”Listen, but not with your ears. See, but not with your eyes. Know, not in your mind, but in your spirit. This is the way of the monk.” – Fhu Redstaff
The winds caress could not reach him here. No longer did that gentle touch of air soothe the skin, instead it harassed the leafy tops of the vast, impenetrable bamboo forest with utter impotence. No, down here he would have to be neglected and warm, stifled by humidity among the creaking greenery. He had long left behind the safety of open sky the roads hours ago, to stalk through this maze of jade and vermillion thicket, avoiding the rare beams and in streams of light that pierced the canopy. No, here he needed to move carefully and with purpose, preferably unseen.
Gripping his heavy polearm tight in his right hand, he was forced to duck, pivot and turn constantly so as to avoid clipping or rustling the bamboo with either blade or shaft as he navigated onward. One slow, carefully placed foot at a time. Unseen was one thing, unheard upon a forest floor covered in dry fallen foliage? It was near impossible. Each foot wrapped in cloth up to the knee had to roll the dice every time it descend back to the ground, what may have looked like a safe spot could easily have a hidden twig or dry leaf bound to make that one awkward noise. Even drawing a breath felt like a measured exercise, having to repress the urge for desperate gasps of air.
Okiba paused, and rolled his left shoulder. It had healed, or was healing, depending on your view of old wounds. The twin scars, still fresh from the work of a skilled surgeons blade, had recently had stitches removed. One sat over his collar bone and the other by his left shoulder blade, both horizontal and Orcs finger in length. It ached, a little, somewhere deep within the fleshy muscle between collar bone and back, but it had healed and was well on its way to being fully recovered.
Thank the spirits for that…
The Orc monk mused, uncorking his water skin to sate his light thirst and wet his sweaty brow. The heat within the Bamboo woods of the jade forest could be stifling, even so early in spring. But it was what he wanted. The rocky, inclined terrain, the challenge of moving unseen, It required effort to move through. An ideal activity, it demanded he be mindful and consider every movement of his hands as he hauled his weighted weapon, and to be careful of each step lest it alert his prey.
One foot, one breath, one thought at a time. Technique over haste.
He considered. Caution would be his ally. Or a lack of mindfulness within his surroundings? Very possibly his death. He was hunting a Tiger; an impressive specimen the local brewers had spotted some days before. It hadn’t taken long for news to reach the temple of the jade serpent, inspiring any would be skilled hunters to seek it out. Fortunately no hunters were available, and Okiba was never one to miss a chance at repaying the kindness of his hosts, especially if it meant exercise.
Hunting is a form of rehabilitation, no?
He smirked to himself, lapping the last drops of water from the edge of his mouth. His eyes slowly scanned the area. He knew the way back to the road; it was south and behind him, while he faced north. All clues to the tiger and its den led north. Thus that remained his path, despite the thicket becoming increasingly intent on slowing his pace.
And thus I must press on, keep momentum, but not over exert or lose awareness.
Re-attaching the water skin to his belt, he rolled his right shoulder then tightened his grip on his weapon before pressing on. He must have stalked two miles, maybe three now? He was by no means a wilds Orc, or hunter, but it didn’t take a master to acknowledge he needed to improve his stamina. The tell tale signs of too much bed rest after his surgery manifested in great beads of sweat running down his bare back.
Damnable heat.
He furrowed his brow, trying to push through the self annoyance that he hadn’t brought more water or failed to find a better way into the forest. He’d much rather of been back with the clan, by the campfire eating freshly butchered boar or Zhevra. It had been near four months now though since he had to depart to see to his wound, would they even remember him? He remembered them…
He froze. His foot had landed in something soft, and warm. He cursed, aloud. The only thing in the forest you stood in that could be described like that was what came out the wrong end of an animal. Lifting his foot to gaze on the mess at the bottom of his cloth-wrapped sandal, he found no surprise that he had indeed stood in a giant lump of still steaming excrement.
”For the love of—“ He began to exclaim before his body froze. Intuition and sensory awareness took control as the need to bemoan his lot in life fell away. He didn’t know much about tracking, but he knew that when animal mess had ‘fur’ in it, he knew it had come from a predator. Narrowing his eyes, this ‘specimen’ was packed full of stag fur… it was close. Hee should have been more alert, mindful and with his eyes on his task instead of day dreaming about the clan. Because no sooner had he realized the proximity of his target, did he hear a solitary twig snap under paw behind him.
”Fu—“
Yes this Saturday sorry, also it will focus on our own lore a little but it should be understandable. Dancing may occur as well so those with a faint of heart stay away, this be serious business!
:)
:)
Chapter 2: The Honor of Orcs
The Burning Legion has been defeated, yet the world is not at rest. It is wounded - a god's blade having pierced its heart - and the Horde and Alliance quarrel over its scraps. Meanwhile, however, other denizen of the world have not been sitting idle.
In the absence of the Horde's military from the homelands, old enemies have been allowed to grow unchecked. Four months ago, the Red Blade already witnessed first hand how the Kolkar clan in the Northern Barrens had grown in discomforting number. Its local leader, Warlord Krerak, had tolerated the Red Blade's incursion upon their lands in exchange for eliminating the Burning Blade threat atop Dreadmist Peak. Now, however, the Kolkar have grown ever more confident with the increase in their numbers. Raids upon caravans and locals are a common occurrence as the Red Blade, too, witnessed when the son of a local pig farmer begged for their aid as his family's home was attacked by a Kolkar raiding party led by one of its champions, Worza. Sargeras' piercing blade intervened the battle that ensued that evening, but it was undoubtedly not the last encounter the orcs will have had with the emboldened Kolkar clan...
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The second campaign of the Red Blade's story line is about to be unfolded! From 25 March until 29 April, we will have a whole month of dedicated storytelling for the second chapter of a larger story that is to come! You will be able to follow the entire campaign, along with summaries of what transpired at each event, in the dedicated forum thread of The Honor of Orcs campaign (http://orcsoftheredblade.com/forum/index.php?topic=4636.0) in case you miss any event or want to read up on what happened.
So, if you're looking for a time to come back for some exciting storytelling or were waiting for a perfect time to join us, that time has come! We hope to see you all there!
Dam!
I had a feeling we'd see those centaur again, and to think I'm missing that too! Very envious, though I'll be home in time for chapter 3 at least!
Make sure I get plenty of screenshots, story's and Centaur rugs in the meantime! ;D
I had a feeling we'd see those centaur again, and to think I'm missing that too! Very envious, though I'll be home in time for chapter 3 at least!
Make sure I get plenty of screenshots, story's and Centaur rugs in the meantime! ;D
Part 1: Old Grudges
Centaurs upon orcish soil! Normally, it is not a thing for anyone to be too surprised of. But so close to Orgrimmar walls? That will not stand. It was with this in mind that the Red Blade, accompanied by some welcome allies of the Shatterskull Marauders, set out from Razor Hill to patrol along the Southfury River. According to several reports, Kolkar centaurs had slowly begun to encroach closer and closer upon the borders of Durotar, piercing deep into the eastern regions of the Barrens. Even for the emboldened Kolkar, this was unheard of...
With one party led by Kozgugore Feraleye and another by Vraxxar Wildmark, the orcs split up to cover as much ground along the river as possible. Several chance (and frankly, strange) encounters were had along the way, but certainly no concerning signs of centaur intrusions. When Feraleye's party ventured to the southernmost reaches of the riverbank in Durotar however, they did indeed find a host of twenty or so centaurs on the opposite side of the river. They appeared to be foraging for food, thrusting their spears into the water. The two scouting parties regrouped as they crossed the bridge into the Barrens to confront the Kolkar intruders, approaching them as stealthily as possible to ensure a successful surprise attack. After all, what better message to send, in order to ensure the centaurs will think twice before returning to Durotar's borders?
Kargnar Bloodpaw led a small party of wolf-mounted orcs to the centaurs' west flank, ensuring they would be trapped between the orcs and a river of crocolisks. With the sounding of the Chieftain's war horn, the order to attack was given. Scores of Kolkar died quickly at the blades of the orcs, standing no chance against their overwhelming might. Even as the centaurs were driven further and further into the river however, one of them had managed to sound a horn of his own. Reinforcements were closing in quick, leaving the orcs with but little time to finish them off before they would have to meet with another war party of centaurs.
A charge in the orcs' flank was inevitable as the reinforcements came within sight. Unable to finish off all of the centaurs, the orcs turned to form a defensive line against the incoming charge of thundering hooves. The centaurs would soon be upon them, when suddenly... their leader ordered them to a halt. Their leader, a big, elderly centaur, hailed the orcs and introduced himself as the former Warlord Krerak of Clan Kolkar, the same Warlord who once granted the Red Blades passage through his lands in their pursuit of the Burning Blade cultists some months ago. He claimed his followers were merely there to forage and live off the lands, harbouring no hostile intentions. What is more, however, he attempted to reason with the Red Blades... to join his side. Krerak, as it turned out, was deposed from his throne as Warlord of the Kolkar clan in the Barrens. His Champion, Worza, had usurped him, resulting in Krerak's exile along with those few who still chose to loyally follow him. Krerak offered a proposal to the orcs: help him retake the Kolkar throne of Warlord, and they would have his solemn vow that any raids on Horde lands and caravans would cease. After all, it was worth the gamble for Krerak, who at this point had very little to lose...
Unfortunately for Krerak, the orcs rejected. Though some were in favour of allowing the former Warlord a chance to prove himself, among which Kargnar Bloodpaw, Vraxxar Wildmark and Rhonya Steelheart, others, including the Chieftain, could not find it within themselves to trust the word of a centaur whose followers previously still pillaged and raided the land freely. Besides, what honour is there in the words of a centaur, a sworn enemy of the Horde? The Code of Akashok forbade the orcs to pledge alliances with outlaws to the Horde and the dishonorable, so the former Warlord was given their final word. Chieftain Feraleye allowed Krerak and his band of loyal followers to gather up their wounded and dead. After that, however, they were to depart these borders to never be seen again. And should they choose to do so regardless, they would risk doing so with the promise of a guaranteed death. Thus, both clans tended to their own wounded and went their own way. Orgrimmar's request to root out any possible threats along the Durotar border had been dealt with. It was time to return to Razor Hill and await further orders...
The first, introductory event to our new campaign has ended! Any future summaries of what's to come can be found in our campaign summary thread, found here!
http://orcsoftheredblade.com/forum/index.php?topic=4636.0
I do hope that the fallen Kolkar chieftain Krerak's head is adorning the crossroads palisade via a spike....
You know, so the centaur get the... point!
...--what? it's late...
You know, so the centaur get the... point!
...--what? it's late...
Part 2: By Demons Be Driven
It was promising to be a quiet night as the orcs settled around a bonfire just outside of Razor Hill. Word of a battle being waged over the scraps of a human keep in the Barrens had reached them, but for the time being, the Red Blades were being held back in reserve as the conflict remained under control. There was more than just the human threat to contend with, after all. The centaur threat had been driven away from their borders and further orders were awaited to be given from Orgrimmar. It seemed the night would pass by quietly as the orcs were about to tell tales of old around the fire... But then, spiritual energies were carried by the winds. The fire suddenly sparked to life, its flames carried high into the sky. Before the orcs had any chance to shield their eyes or avoid the licks of the flame, the fire turned bright blue from within. It engulfed the orcs, wrapping them into its warm blanket... but it did not harm them. Instead, it lulled them to sleep, carrying them off to a time and place far away...
They awoke in what might well have been hell in its own right. Fire had spread in the forest in front of them, and the thunders of war echoed all around. They were no longer in their own time, nor in their own bodies. This was the Third War and the Battle of Ashenvale. Sergeants pushed them onward to march into battle before they had any chance to regain their bearings, explaining that Warchief Thrall had ordered the enemy here be put down. How did they end up here and, more importantly, why? There was little time to mull over any of these things. Soon, they were beset upon by orcs... red-skinned, fel-ridden orcs! They carried upon them the banner of the Warsong clan, but they saw no ally in the Horde grunts. Without warning or remorse, they came charging straight at them! A hectic battle ensued, and though the orcs managed to stand fast against the Chaos Orc onslaught, orcs were dying left and right. They had to push through to survive this strange dream, and fast.
Wave after wave, the dreaming orcs overcame as they pushed onward into the forest. Signs of battle and carnage was all around them, and even the sky was not safe as large, fiery boulders came crashing down from the canopy above and plummeted into the earth in front of them to rise up and halt their advance. The Warsong clan stood beside the demons of the Burning Legion! This must be what the Warchief ordered them to fight, rather than the elves in this very forest. In a strange twist of fate, orc now fought orc in order to help save elves and humans alike. Despite these strange circumstances, the orcs continued their advance upon the enemy when finally, the end goal was in sight. The Chaos Orcs were besieging a small, elven settlement that was hanging by a thread, its defenders overwhelmed and about to be crushed for good, would the orcs not intervene. There was a brief moment of pause as they wondered whether to truly fight through these orcs who were once their brethren in order to fight a potential enemy of the Horde, but they finally chose to press on regardless of the odds and circumstances. The settlement and its few surviving civilians needed them...
Chaos warlocks, raiders and even a blademaster stood in their path as they rushed to the defense of the few remaining elves. More of the orcs fell as only a handful remained to put a stop to the cruel slaughter. It was only by their combined attacks that the orcs managed to persevere over the overwhelming odds, but victory was eventually seized by the New Horde! There were but a handful of civilians and sentinels left in the settlement, but what was to become of them? Their ultimate fate was left in the orcs' hands... Would they allow the elves to live... or would they put them down, knowing in the back of their minds that these elves might full well pose a threat to the Horde and their own offspring one day? There was a brief discord among the orcs' ranks as they attempted to decide the civilians' fate. In the end however, a great majority stood in favour of sparing the populace. They had suffered enough this day. As the decision was made, a small, night elven child suddenly stepped forth to address the orcs. When she spoke however, her voice had more than just the tang of youth and innocence about it. There was an underlying echo of something else, something older entirely, backing her words up. “Only judge others by their honor,” she proclaimed. “Be hospitable and generous to those in need. That is our way. That is the Code of our ancestors. And thus shall it ever be.”
What did the words mean? To the grunts of Thrall's New Horde, they were strange words to hear from a child's mouth. To the Red Blades who witnessed this vision deep down, however, they were recognized as some of the words of their very own Code of Honor. But how did a child come to speak such words? They were given little time to contemplate this. The white veil of the vision began to advance upon them, washing over them like a rejuvenating shower. It forced them back into consciousness.
The Red Blades woke up around the same fire they had previously gathered around. Its fires had died down however, leaving little more but small embers. For how long had they lost their consciousness? And what was the purpose of this dream?... Or was it a vision, sent by the Great Spirits themselves? The child's words certainly appeared to hint as much. But why did the spirits see fit to bestow upon them such a powerful vision of the past? The orcs were left to discuss the vision's message around a dying bonfire, leaving them with more questions than answers. Time will have to tell what purpose such a harrowing vision served...
Missing out on all the fun stuff D:
Tonight will be a calm night. (Yeah really this time!) Rhonya will be holding a small lesson on ritual basics, summoning and spirits!
Part 3: Fury Road
Orders from Orgrimmar had arrived at long last. With the centaur threat removed from the Durotar borders, the shipping lanes from Orgrimmar and the Barrens had to continue uninterrupted. To ensure a safe passage for a large caravan heading from the Mor'shan Ramparts to the Crossroads to help resupply the ongoing war effort, the Red Blade clan had been commissioned to help escort the wagons.
Upon arrival, the caravan's leader, Tekeascheka Twohide, or Teka in short, hailed the Red Blades. With some orcs taking place upon the caravan wagons while the others positioned themselves around the caravan on their wolves, the caravan was ready to make for the Crossroads. The journey was a surprisingly comfortable one as a red sun was slowly setting upon the sands of Durotar. When the caravan rolled into the Barrens, however, caution was warranted. After all, the local centaurs were still suspected to be bold as ever, so unpleasant surprises may be lurking on the horizon at any moment... and they did.
A thunderous horde of centaur raiders came riding down the hill as the caravan had just made its way into the Crossroads. An ambush! And a well chosen one, at that. The Red Blades, aided by two Shatterskull Marauders, made for the front of the caravan to meet the threat and managed to fell several centaurs before they made contact with the vanguard of the caravan. Just as the two sides clashes, however, the wyvern riders among the clan, Kai'gron Ripclaw, Verzan Skywise and Rykana Skywise, called out from the skies to warn the clan of a second attack - and an even bigger one - approaching upon the rear flank. The Chieftain made the call and ordered the caravan to charge straight through the attackers in the front.
A high speed chase followerd, with Kolkar raiders harassing the caravan wagons upon all sides! Several times, raiders managed to break through to the wagons in an attempt to relieve it of its cargo, but every single looter was caught up to in time before they could make off with any supplies. Even so, the raiders' assault was unrelenting. Wave upon wave they came, resulting in one injury after another for the Red Blade defenders. With their impressive stamina and strong, four legs, the centaurs could easily keep up with the Red Blades' wolves and the caravan kodos, resulting in the Red Blades fighting tooth and nail over every inch that would take them closer to the safe harbor of the Crossroads.
Though the caravan was fast closing in on the Crossroads, the wagons would not be able to hold out for long. Javelins were throw into thet pack animals and the wagon wheels, hampering the caravan's progression all the more. What's more, Mal'Garr Firefist, Razaron Madeye and Kozgugore Feraleye in particular suffered heavy injuries during the frantic ride to safety. Yet another wave was approaching upon the caravan from the south, headed by a particularly large Kolkar. They charged into the battle with high speed... but rather than to assault the orcs' caravan, their leader crashed into two of the Kolkar raiders, toppling them over and crushing them underfoot! His followers scattered and began to chase after the raiders, reinvigorating the Red Blades' spirits as they rallied and began to chase after the raiders along with them. Within mere seconds, the raiders wavered and were routed completely! The caravan made it through, though only barely.
When the wagons rolled to a stop to oversee and repair the damage, the centaurs who came to the clan's rescue came to assess their situation. The centaur leader was none other than Krerak himself, the same centaur who happened upon the Red Blade barely a week ago. Back then, his offer to join forces against the Kolkar clan under Worza's leadership was outright rejected by the Red Blade. Now, however, the orcs were one lesson and vision wiser and found themselves in the uncomfortable situation of being indebted to a centaur. Once more, Krerak gave his proposal for a pact to join forces and to usurp Worza from the local Kolkar throne... and this time, the orcs accepted. In exchange for respecting the Horde's settlements and caravans and not encroaching beyond the oasis' borders any further, Krerak would receive the Red Blade's assistance in quelling the increasingly overwhelming Kolkar threat. Much would remain to be done before the end of such a goal would be in sight, however. A great deal of planning will have to be done. As such, the Red Blades agreed to meet with Krerak and his followers in their hidden den in several days hence to begin planning a rebellion that would shake the very foundations of the Barrens...
A crucial development in our campaign plot! For this and more developments on our ongoing campaign, do check out the campaign thread on our forums!
http://orcsoftheredblade.com/forum/index.php?topic=4636.0
Loving these stage by stage story updates!
Barrens, dusk.
The warm air rose from the sun drenched hills, winged predators use these thermals to stay airborne with minimal effort. Ky'rie was one such predator, she was a fine Wyvern, agile, keen and focused. Kai'gron had reared her since a pup, they'd been through many battles together which had forged a tight bond between them.
It was shortly after the caravan had arrived at the Crossroads that Kai'gron and Ky'rie departed southwards, they tracked Krerak and his Kolka to their hidden den.
Landing upon a hidden hill Kai'gron watched them closely all night, it would be sunrise before the orc and wyvern would fly northwards to report what they'd witness.
http://orcsoftheredblade.com/forum/index.php?action=gallery;sa=view;pic=687
The warm air rose from the sun drenched hills, winged predators use these thermals to stay airborne with minimal effort. Ky'rie was one such predator, she was a fine Wyvern, agile, keen and focused. Kai'gron had reared her since a pup, they'd been through many battles together which had forged a tight bond between them.
It was shortly after the caravan had arrived at the Crossroads that Kai'gron and Ky'rie departed southwards, they tracked Krerak and his Kolka to their hidden den.
Landing upon a hidden hill Kai'gron watched them closely all night, it would be sunrise before the orc and wyvern would fly northwards to report what they'd witness.
http://orcsoftheredblade.com/forum/index.php?action=gallery;sa=view;pic=687
Some grand discoveries have been made about the Great Spirits of the clan! To read it in easier format, do check out our home page at orcsoftheredblade.com!
New Great Spirits Uncovered
It has been mere months since the tribe has reformed into the mighty Red Blade clan and has found guardians to be watching over them once again. What they did not know, however, was that there are more patrons watching over the clan, some even new to the pantheon of Akashok himself. In recent discoveries, the Thur’ruk of the clan have been digging deep into the lore of the clan and have uncovered a few more of those guardians of the Red Blade. Due to their discovery, they have started to work their ways into the dreams of the orcs, to let themselves be known to the clan and that they are watching over them.
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Ukwa Ukwa
Ukwa Ukwa has always been on the background of the first litter of Akashok and Akala. He has always been eager to impress the rest of the pack yet never found himself capable of actually doing so, whether this was due to his bad luck, or simply because he seems incapable of doing anything that would be described as simple to a normal orc, has not actually been described. Some encounter this revered spirit whilst he is listening to the rocks below, stating that he can hear what the smallest of pebbles has to say. It is because of this, that he is also known as “Pebblespeaker”. No matter how they encounter him, he is always too fast for his own good, often tripping on his own legs and causing him to assume an almost groveling appearance as he face-plants in front of his summoners.
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Brambleson
Back when the universe was still young, the spirits gave birth to noble creatures to defend against the cinders of wrathful, dark energies. These were beings created as vigilant soldiers, blessed with speed, keen senses, and valour beyond measure. These were the rabbits. They stood firm against the evil remnants of what came before... all but one rabbit, that is. That is Brambleson, chief of all Rabbits. As he threw his subjects into glorious battle, he could only cower and covet their heroism. When the endless darkness came, it was simply too strong, only the combined force of all the rabbits could stand against it. So Brambleson asked for his subjects to lend him their courage. Reluctantly in the face of danger, they did. When Brambleson faced this evil, he was scared beyond belief and ran off like he always did before, leaving all the rabbits without any of their bravery; scared of their own shadow. Akashok took pity on this creature and allowed him into his pack.
As a patron of the clan, Brambleson represents the fleet footed. When called upon, he comes only after a long while when he knows he is safe, asking the summoner to whisper instead of calling, for it might reveal his location.
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The Elder One
Contrary to popular belief, the name of the Elder One is not associated with any sort of cult. Unless the reverence that the clan upholds is counted among that of a cult, in which case it is. The Elder One is named more so because of her actual state of being. Another name that she goes by is Tevaga. Just like Brambleson, this one does not hold the privilege of being a wolf within the pantheon of Akashok. This sloth represents the calm that resides within everyone. Unlike the rest, she does not actually show herself too quickly to the rest of the clan as she is often too busy sleeping or hanging in trees, undisturbed by anything happening around her. She preaches that her followers should take at least 12 hours of relaxation for too much exertion would lead to the quick withering of the husks that are their bodies.
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Hakak
Hakak has only been a recent addition to the pantheon itself. As youngest member of the pantheon, Hakak has done well for himself in taking over more domains within this religious group. When the mists had gone and the island been made visible, Hakak had left the land they call Pandaria. Being a mixture of a black bear and a white bear, this was no place for him. They all called him terrible names, such as “Fatty”, “Blackeye”, and “Panda”. Little did the rest know that he is actually a panda bear. Born with insatiable hunger, Hakak eats everything that is laying around or things that don’t have roots that run too deep. He ever wanders the earth, looking to quench his appetite. He has even gone so far as to eat other spirits of the pantheon, relinquishing their domains and becoming the patron of theirs as well. The only reason no one speaks up to him, is that they are afraid that they might be next and enter his gullet. He preaches that his followers seek out to taste at least everything in life, that way they are able to recognise everything simply from the taste. Even poison... or so they say. There hasn’t been anyone that can actually confirm the last part, probably because they all perished from the excessive poison intake.
Thanks go to Kogra Windwatcher for sharing these discoveries with us!
This, and the Blizz micro holiday April fools?
I may have just laughed so hard that I spat tea over a very expensive military computer.
Kek.
I may have just laughed so hard that I spat tea over a very expensive military computer.
Kek.
Part 4: No Place Like Home
The pact has been sealed and the first step down a long road of insurrection was about to be made. The Red Blades, accompanied by several of the Shatterskull Marauders, set out to the south of the Crossroads to meet up with the deposed Warlord and make a plan of attack. As the orcs arrived at the abandoned raptor den, the severity of the centaurs' situation quickly became apparent. The women and children in Krerak's care appeared weak and underfed, not to mention far fewer in numbers than the orcs had initially even suspected. Especially since the Red Blades themselves took out several of Krerak's followers in their initial encounter, a lot of work remained to be done. Thankfully, tonight presented an opportunity to rectify that.
Krerak outlined everything that needed to be done. The Stagnant Oasis was the end-goal, serving as the rival Worza's seat of power and Krerak's former home. They must be weakened, while Krerak's herd must be strengthened. As it stood right now, they had no chance of facing Worza and his forces in open battle. A lengthy war had to become unsustainable for Worza, as he had the means to outlast Krerak in the long term. Through continued attrition and public humiliation, Worza's forces must be thinned so that Krerak's may stand a chance against them. Before all of that could happen, however, the foundation had to be laid. Krerak and his followers required a safe haven to call home.
The orcs and Shatterskulls turned to the Lushwater Oasis to the west. According to Krerak, its inhabitants were exiles and outcasts of the Kolkar clan. They had to be either driven out entirely, or convinced to join Krerak's band. A plan of attack was made by the orcs, and they decided that the best course of action, was to leave as many of them alive in order to bolster Krerak's weakened forces. In order to do this, Thur'ruk Trakmar Beastbane was selected to represent them as their champion, in hopes of challenging the outcasts' leader in open combat. They set out to the oasis and began to encircle the centaur encampment there, intending to intimidate the inhabitants into a challenge with their leader. Though several of the centaurs lashed out at the orcs right away in an attempt to drive them off, those that resisted quickly found themselves cut down. The challenge was issued for the outcasts' leader to show himself... and show himself, he did.
Accompanied by a few bodyguards, their leader, Hezrak, mocked the orcs' challenge. Nevertheless, in his hubris, he saw fit to humor them. The chosen champion, Trakmar Beastbane, stepped forth to face him and spared little time in engaging the centaur. Distracting the centaur by throwing his polearm at him, Trakmar charged at Hezrak and quickly managed to pin him down. Though he lost his weapon, it turned out the large Mag'har's most valued weapons were his very own fangs and claws. Ripping into the centaur's throat, Hezrak attempted to maintain his distance from the large orc in order to utilize his spear. His efforts quickly proved to be fruitless however, as the elderly Thur'ruk, despite his age, was surprisingly swift on his feet and managed to break one of the centaur's legs. This cast the centaur off balance and allowed Trakmar the freedom to wrap his hands around the centaur's neck and jaw to rip his head off in a mighty display for the other gathered centaurs to behold!
Trakmar Beastbane raised the ripped off head for them all to see, knowing they would respect strength above all... much like orcs. "Not far from here," Beastbane proclaimed to them, "there be a former centaur Warlord who intends to bring his clan something better than raiding defenseless merchants for naught but scraps. More honorable than most of your kind, he will fight for what he thinks be right! You may join us. Live with something better, or stand against us and meet a similar fate to this one." Aghast and amazed at the swift defeat of their leader, the gathered centaurs were quick to fall in line. They would accept Krerak as their new leader, and Krerak would have a new safe haven for his followers. The first sparks for a rebellion had been made. Next, it would be time to cut the competition...
Another successful event, albeit a little different this time! Read all about it here!
http://orcsoftheredblade.com/forum/index.php?topic=4636.msg44548#msg44548