It’s not genocide, it’s pesticide.
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The Path awaits the first arrivals tonight for the upcoming RP-PvP campaign (starting TOMORROW!).
Will they become stalwart allies or mere tools to plunge Kalimdor, and the world, into war once more?
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Tonight’s the night! Just a few more hours before the Path of gl- I mean, warriors of the Horde anonymous show those Night Elves that we think Sylvanas did some things right…
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What’s the best way to get in touch with an officer?
I’m around fairly often, just give me (or any member online) a poke!
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The campaign’s done, they’re all like :“Wow! Let’s go straight to Thunder Bluff!” And so they do.
Forgetting that they have wounded still in Shadowprey…
Sounds of Thravar screaming in the distance.
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We sent people after you!! Argh!!
BUT ANYWAY!
The Path has left for Thunder Bluff following the defeat at Desolace and their horrible betrayal at the Mak’gora between the Warlord and War-God. Where will they go next? What’s the plan?
we’ll find out some time in the future
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Introducing our culture to the world, one mak’gora at a time
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I liked you guys
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I joined on my Troll a few weeks ago and I’ve already turned my back on them for being heretics to the loa and Trollkind.
10/10 would betray them again
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Meanwhile I think I fought almost every troll in the guild tonight in one battle… quite an achievement I think!
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Fought a bunch of sneaky rogues from this guild in the Cold Front Part 2 campaign. We all had a laugh with it, ranging from horrible snow based puns, throwing snowballs, and casually threatening to eat one of the vulpera.
10/10 guild highly recommended.
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A Battle Without End
As the Warlord laid within the safety of Venomspite’s, his battered body slowly healing with the aid of Matches’ magic, he remained awake for most of the night. It was true, he had slain a mighty opponent, a Forge-Captain of a band of dwarves, yet the aftermath had cost him dearly.
The fury of the dwarves was something he’d seen before many times during his life but this was something else. He had slain their leader, their friend, and they were determined to avenge him. A fire burned brightly in their souls as they sought to bring the Warlord and his Warband to justice.
He didn’t remember everything that transpired but he remembered their faces, their voices. He remembered the hammers, axes and fists that tore away at his armour and nearly ended his life right there. The old orc’s body truly was reaching its limits. How long could he keep it up? How long could he keep fighting for his cause?
His crusade.
The crafty forsaken spoke to him briefly and he heard the conversation outside the building between comrades in arms. There was a way to keep fighting. A way that would allow him to start this war and bring about an end to the Alliance. A battle without end.
A way for his crusade to be an eternal one if need be.
Yet could he make such a big sacrifice? He didn’t know but it was something he started to consider in earnest.
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The Horde owes you a great debt, Warlord…
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JUST DIE ALREADY. Please okay thank you.
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Valeraine stayed awake the entire night, the pain of her charred flesh too great to reach any sort of rest. Even with her constant mending, her charred flesh was slow on it’s regeneration after the encounter yesterday with that dwarf and his damned gryphon.
She remembered the taunting during the duel, their foolish confidence. How could a creature so primitive be capable of downing the Warlord? It mattered not. The moment the dwarf turned his back on the old orc, it was clear who the victor would be. She remembered Talrundir’s body tensing, ready to leap on. The rogues slithering back to their shadows, and her own body impulsively tensing.
The sound of Azerite clashing against steel made the dwarves reel on their boots. The axe cleaved through the dwarf’s head vertically, and cut through steel and flesh alike better than her fists ever could. The same dwarf who she could only damage his shield but a few months back was being cleaved by the azerite edge.
Then, the agony began. The dwarves leapt into combat even before the dwarf’s corpse hit the floor. The wildhammer charged at her, and whilst she was able to parry his blow, the gryphon tore her back wide open. Those claws cut through leather and flesh like it was a scroll, the sharp beak digging through her bones, and the axes- So many axes, how did he fit them in such a small body?
Perhaps she underestimated her foe. She remembered his voice, the anger in his voice, crackling with power in every word.
“Ye forget where we are. So close to the storm peaks.”
The lightning crackled between his fingers. She raised her guard, and braced for spells. The hint of mana was palpable in the air, she knew what was coming.
“It won’t end well for you.”
She tried to warn him. Perhaps out of mercy, to face this magnificent warrior further in the future. The only warrior who truly made her fer cornered, more than anyone else. Then, they clashed.
The lightning-infused axe bit on her side as the gryphon tore her back in the clash. Her flesh burnt away as lightning coursed through her body- Through her runes. The same runes designed specifically to counter magic. The same runes that were now empowered by the storms themselves. She moved her hand forward, but a finger away from the dwarf’s face, and discharged.
The crackling of lightning surprised the dwarf, cracking through his open guard and searing his flesh. Both warriors, weakened by the trade of blows, gathered their strength. Lightning crackled through his hands, and chi gathered on hers. At once, knowing their lives depended on it, they launched arcs of lightning against each other. Elemental storms against arcs of chi clashed and passed between each other.
Then, darkness.
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Thorn was angry.
Very angry.
As angry as a scrawny, lice-ridden elf could be.
Not because he had fought tirelessly for the last four days.
Not because of the lack of sleep his nightmares were causing.
Not even because of the bitter cold climate of the Frozen North.
No. This anger was because his two front teeth had been knocked out by a stupid dwarf, and now he sounded like a kettle.Fuming.
Thorn spent a good hour sulking on the edge of Venomspite until an idea hit him flat in the face. A poster of a grinning goblin advertising his trike rental services across the wastelands of Dragonblight.
“From Agmar’s Hammer to Venomspite before you can say TAXI!”
The elf narrowed his eyes at the goblins grin, its huge mouth filled with rows of gold teeth.Thorn grinned to himself, cold air passing through the gap, and he vanished in a flash of shadow.
6 Likes
“…Ya shouldn’t be here…” the Old Troll spoke, watching through the portal as his hunters dispatched the Jormungar he had ‘blessed’ with his power with ease. He spoke more rapidly this time, almost screaming the words as it echoed throughout the fog as they made every step closer. “Ya shouldn’t be here… Ya shouldn’t be here… YA SHOULDN’T BE HERE!” It wasn’t a threat, nor out of fear… It was a warning. He respected some of them, he didn’t want them to see where he had truly gone.
As expected, they made it to the cave. Za’kani reduced the portal’s size as the group arrived at the grisly scene, an old decayed Troll’s corpse donning Za’kani’s battered armour, a sacrificial dagger plunged deep into his chest. As they pulled the dagger out and the fog began to fade away, Za’kani shut the portal to a near pause, peering through it with a single eye. He watched as Valeraine hammered and beat the decayed corpse to a barely identifiable pulp, leaving the head somewhat intact.
At that, Za’kani fully sealed the portal shut, using the last of his loa’s power to ensure the portal could not be re-opened… And promptly collapsing from exhaustion and fatigue due to his barely-treated injuries. Though he began to feel unconsciousness take him, he smiled in knowing that he had escaped for the time being: They would assume he had killed himself for his spirit to transcend to the side of his Loa, yet they would be partially right… But it wasn’t his time to shed his mortal body just yet.
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No Return
“Remember, two days. I have some business to take care of.”
Sergeant Hornwell had been stationed in Wintergarde Keep ever since the War against the Lich King had ended. He was part of the garrison meant to keep an eye out on any Scourge activity. For the most part his job was rather uneventful but there were times an incident with the undead or, yes, even the Horde spiced up his life for a few days.
And so it happened again a few weeks back when the Horde and Alliance fought against each other but also the Loyalists and Cult of the Damned. It was a tense time for him and the men under his command. Yet fortune would have it that they all came through relatively unscathed. A few bruises and broken bones but nothing life-threatening. He was content with that.
Ever since that particular conflict ended, however, a blizzard kept Dragonblight in its firm grip. “Unnatural,” some of the mages said but he was just a footman and there was little he could do than resume his duty to the best of his abilities. Patrols happened every few days with the six soldiers he could call a part of his family now. His subordinates, sure, but the years spent together forged an unbreakable bond.
A bond that would be tested.
The patrol group marched through the frozen wastes of Dragonblight, weathering the storm. Each of them wore an enchanted cloak to keep them warm whenever they left Wintergarde. As per usual they found nothing in the vicinity and prepared to return after an hour and a half.
It was then that they heard something. Metal scraping slowly against metal. Not unlike they heard before when encountering the dreaded Scourge. But they knew how to handle a couple of stragglers so they prepared for a fight.
What they didn’t expect was the hulking brute, clad in saronite armour that resembled a Horde uniform. A single ice blue eye shone brightly from behind the visor of the helmet. The orc brandished his azerite axe, Lionsbane. It had been altered. Runeforged. He didn’t attack but he was watching their every move like a starved predator waiting to pounce his prey.
Sergeant Hornwell looked to his men, knowing full well what they were up against. He gave them a nod and together they charged, their battle cries ringing across the snowy plains.
“For the Alliance!”
Not a single man returned to Wintergarde Keep.
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You mean my Exorcisms will work now?
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