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Found 21 results

  1. 2007-11-22 23:23:37 Ulsleg son of Rograll was born in the arid climate of Durotar. As young orc Ulsleg long to be honored as an Orgrimmar Grunt as his father was. On a mission given from Warcheif Thrall, Rograll and his battalion were to raid the Allaince strong hold in the barrens, Northwatch Hold. Rograll addressed his mate Volgarka and his curiously enegetic son Ulsleg about his mission . Ulsleg begged to be in battle with his father but Rograll bellowed a roaring laugh, patted Ulslegs head, and calmly explained to his son the reasons no. Ulsleg was furious and swore to himself he would be by his fathers side in battle. On a hot early morning Rograll slipped out of the hut unnoticed, or so he thought. Ulsleg was behind him all the way. Being as small an orc young could be, Ulsleg was able to track behind his father better than his fathers own shadow. All the way to Northwatch Ulsleg followed Rograll and his clan. At the gates of the hold battle ensued as Allaince men in full plate armor on mounted on horses spilled out of the hold. Rogralls & his clan of over runned orcs fought bravely to the death. Ulsleg could not believe what he witnessed this horrid day. Ulsleg remained in the bushes fo the cliffs while Alliance men hurled to battered orc bodies over the cliffs into the Great Sea. Under the cover of darkness Ulsleg navigated his way through the labyrinth of rocks only to discover that the tide that brought the orcs to Kalimdor had taken his father Rograll back. It was on these cliffs that Ulsleg son of Rograll swore to the ancestors that he would have his revenge on the Alliance or die in battle slaying many.
  2. 2007-01-27 10:10:07 Within the plains of Mulgore lay many scattered but united tribes of the ancient Tauren. One such tribe known as the Proudhoof was known for its skilled hunters and warriors. Laying on the outskirts of Mulgore within a days travel of the Barrens the Proudhoof tribe was the most distant from Thunderbluff. The sun was riseing above the distant mountains as it begin its accent to the heavens. The long grass of the plains begin to glisten from the mornings dew. The dark shade of night was passing as the newborn sun claimed the skys once again. Two Large totems marking the enterance to the village began to cast there shadow as the dwellers arose from there slumber. The tribe came to life as the Tauren began there day. This was no ordinary day though this was the day of the great hunt. Once a year the male bulls would leave for the barrens to hunt the mighty Kodos. The kodos serverd the Taurens well with fresh skins and food. The male bulls would be gone for 5 moons. Upon there return the tribes would have a mighty feast and celebrate with plenty of orcish swill and tauren mead. But all was not as it seemed on this day…. “It iz like dah warlord said. Most ub dah malez are gone on der tupid hunt” an ogre said as he peered through the tall grass. There were around 50 ogres all hideing in the hills undercover of the tall grass. The morning dawn left the hills in shadows, just enough to keep the ogres from being spotted as they laid in wait. “ we no hab long dah shadowz be gone when dah sun get big” said the smaller ogre. “Ok tell dah udderz to get ready me will count to tree and we will bash dah tupid taurenz” The ogre turned to the war party and told them to be ready. Then the war party leader began to count. “ one………ummm…….” The ogre turned to the smaller ogre and asked “whut come after one?” Both ogres sat there with bewildered looks on there faces. “Hmm me not know whut come abter one” the smaller ogre replied. “Hmmm me tinkz u ask Mula, him am big so him hab big brain, him know” So the smaller ogre crawled to the back of the war party till he found Mula. Mula was not hard to find being that he was very big, even by ogre standards. “Mula wid dah big brain Grok wunt to know whut come abter one” The smaller ogre said. Mula removed hiz finger from his nose and gave the smaller ogre a puzzled look then replied. “ Grok wuntz to know whut come abter one whut?” Mula replied as he gazed at his finger. Ths smaller ogre replied “Grok wunt to know whut come abter dah number one” “ ohhh me understand. Abter one comes fibe.” Mula replied az he stuck his finger in his mouth. “den whut come abter fibe?” the smaller ogre asked. Mula sat there puzzled as he began to think. The smaller ogre sat and watched the mighty ogre with the big brain in amazement. The surrounding ogres began to take notice and waited patiently for the answer. One of the ogres turned to the others and said “him am amazing, him so smartz just watchen him tink makez me head hurt” The other ogres nodded and grunted in agreement. Mula’s face started to become twisted and distorted with different shades of red and purple as he strained to think. Then suddenly the ogre jumped up and shouted “Tree” “one fibe tree” The ogres gasped in amazment. But there cheering and celebrating was cut short by the sound of horns being blow from the tauren tribe below. The sun had made its way high into the sky and the shadows that had kept the ogres hidden had long since retreated. The horns sounded the alarm and were quickly followed by the sound of drums. The Taurens were alerted to the presense of the ogres and would not but such easy prey. “Bash dah taurenz, show dem dat ogrez iz bigger and stronger den tupid cowz” Grok shouted as he raised his axe above his head and began to charge down the hill towards the tribe with the war party following behind him. The first priority of the tribe was to get the young Tauren to safety. The few male Tauren that were left in the village were either to old or to young for the great hunt. They new they wouldn’t be able to hold the ogre war party for long but hopefully long enough to let the others escape to safety. Lead by the old Tauren named Jukal the small band of Taurens lined up at the enterance of the village where they would stand there ground. Some could barely hold up the mighty hammers, axes and staffs that were given to them. Jukal being a warrior of old knew they must hold off the ogres as long as possible but as he looked to his left then to his right he realized hardly any of the defenders were fit for fighting. “Earth Mother guide our blades this day” Jukal shouted as he braced himself for the coming onslaught. “Cut dem down, stomp dem to piezes brudders” Grok shouted as he tripped over a stone and fell on his axe sliceing his skull in two. The other ogres trampled over top of him and into the defending Tauren. The Tauren fought bravely but one by one were cut down by the enemy. As the defending Tauren were slain the ogres made there way into the tribe killing any Tauren in there path and destroying everything in site. Many of the fleeing Tauren were caught and killed including the young. All were slaughtered but one. The female Tauren known as Gula. The ogres made there way through the incampment pillaging and burning everything in site. Gula was dragged out of her tent kicking and screaming. As Gula lay on the ground she looked around. The carnage was unbarable. Her many friends and loved ones were slain. Bodies were left to burn. The ground had turned a dark red as the victims bled. Many of the bodies were beheaded as it was common for ogre war parties to take the heads of there victims as trophies. Tears filled Gulas eyes as she layed there preparing to die. A small group of ogres stood around Gula looking down at her. There skin tainted by the blood of many tauren. “Whut we do wid diz one?” asked one of the ogres. “hmm me tinkz we make her our lunch, fresh tauren wid barbeque sauze be gud” said another. Mula made his way to over to the group of ogres to see what all the fuss was about. As he made his way to the center of the ogres he saw Gula. “No no me make her me wife” Mula said without hesitation. Mula dropped the head of Jukal on the ground near his feet and grabbed Gula and through her over his shoulder then proceeded into the tent. 37 seconds past when Mula heard a commotion coming from outside the tent. “u be done wid her yet Mula? We tink it be our turnz now” Mula opened the tent only to see the entire ogre war party waiting. “Yeh me done wid her now, but she sleep now u no bodder her” Mula said as he arose from the tent. “But we wunt our turn now, no fare u hog her” one of the ogres said as he clenched his large stone mace. “Me said she sleep u go way now” Mula replied as he grabbed his axe. The war party was getting restless and weren’t about to take no for a answer. “No me hab her now!” the ogre shouted as he raised his hammer in the air bringing it down on Mula. But Mula was a seasoned warrior and much larger then the other ogres. As the hammer came down Mula grabbed it with his hand and swung it into the head of a near by ogre killing the ogre instantly. Then Mula brought his axe up with the swiftness of a ox and severed the attacking ogres head clean off his shoulders. The smell of fresh blood put the mighty ogre into a furious rage as he began to attack the other ogres. After a few hours Gula regained conciousnous. She couldn’t believe she was still alive although she was very sore then she remembered what had proceeded earlier. The most terrifying 37 seconds of her life. The young Tauren passed out at the very thought. The next morning Gula awoke again. As she made her way out of the tent she couldn’t believe her eyes. The entire ogre war party had been slain. It was as if they had turned on each other. But what could have caused this she wondered to her self as she stepped out of the tent and over the many bodies of Tauren and Ogre alike. The smell was unbareble as she made her way past the bodies and to the edge of the camp. She looked back at the camp one last time before turning and heading for the safety of the nearest Tauren village never to return to the village again. Months later Gula gave birth to a son. But this was no ordinary Tauren. He had many features of a typical Tauren but there was something else. For one he was extremely large for a Tauren baby and didn’t possess a lot of hair which Tauren babies are known for being hairy. Gula died shortly after giving birth to Bula. Before she died she had made arrangements for a orc clan to take Bula in. Gula figured Bula would fit in better with the orcs then with his Tauren brethren. After many years Bula grew into a fierce warrior. Learning the savage ways of the orcs Tauren has become a mighty and feared warrior. It has been said that sometimes if in battle Bula will lose control and his ogre heritage takes him into a beserker fenzy that is truly frightening.
  3. 2006-06-19 16:09:29 The horse gently nudged her prone form with his muzzle, but she did not wake. Until the muzzle grazed her shoulder, then her eyes shot open with a strangled gasp of pain. When the flair of agony subsided from mind blinding to merely excruciating, she slowly sat up on the cobbles of the street. Biting her lip, she reached up and snapped off the arrows shaft, knowing she didn't have time to work the missile out of her flesh. She didn't even dare try to touch the one in her abdomen. She had no idea what it had hit, and did not want to risk causing more damage with removing it. Blood stained her clothes around both wounds, but it had long since darkened to a dry rusty brown. Since she was in no danger of bleeding to death, the arrows would have to remain, at least until she found someone who could remove them. Looking around, she knew she would not find one here. The streets around her were littered with corpses. Young and old alike, some battered and bloody from their accidental trampling, others bearing clean efficient slashes from swords. Some lay still under arrow wounds much like her own, she reckoned that they explained the reason she was still breathing now. The Princes men must have assumed she was dead like they, and passed her over. For that, she was grateful. From further in the city she heard screams still, yelling, and the sounds of brief combat. The Princes men were still here, and still killing, why she did not know. Smoke cast a dismal haze over the city, mixed with the sounds of the dieing the roar of buildings in flame. Already ashes began to drift down from the sky, like a gray mournful snow. Using the reins of her horse as support, she pulled herself up onto her feet, and fought the wave of dizziness that hit her. She was so cold, she felt like she had been bathed in ice. She must have lost a great deal of blood while she was out. She then remembered how ill she had felt this morning, and hoped she didn't have a fever as well. That would just top off what had turned out to be a rather bad day. She glanced back further into the city, feeling a sense of duty for those she heard dying, screaming that the Prince had gone mad. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she turned towards the gate of the city, picking her way through the slain, leading her horse behind her. Quietly, she did not want to attract attention, for that would most likely mean a finalization of what the arrows in her had failed to do. She felt a deep regret that she could not ride back to their aid, protect them from the insane troops, but she knew it would be futile. Stratholme was lost. But there was something she could do, to keep it from happening again. The King. I must tell the King. His son has slaughtered us, the King MUST put a stop to that. I must reach the King. "You there! Halt!" Her head twirled to face the man that yelled at her from down the road. One of the Princes men, with a squad of soldiers with him. She did not doubt for a second what they would do if they caught her. Already spotted, stealth was not an issue anymore, and she swung up into her saddle and dug her heels into Blue's flanks. Her eyes bulged with the pain the move cost her, but adrenaline surged into her blood as her horse surged into a gallop. This was life or death, she did not have time for pain. She could hear them running after her, but quickly outpaced them, for they were unmounted. Hooves ringing loudly on the stones of the street, save when they landed with a dull thud of flesh, the woman rode for her life. Away from the city at the fasted pace her mount could muster. For hours she rode. In the dim light of the near set sun she saw buildings in the far distance, and knew it to be the same town she had planned to overnight in before the Arthas had come. She kicked her horse to a trot. The sooner she got to Corin's, the sooner she could get the arrows out, maybe a hot meal, and were the Light favoring her, a bath. Eyes stared at her as she entered town, she did not wonder why. She was covered in dirt and dried blood, she'd have stared at her as well. Watched by all as she passed, she drew up at the inn, the innkeeper wife met her in the yard, and gave her a disapproving glare. "We do no business with bandits" "No ma'am, wouldn't blame you for that." The wounded woman tried to smile, despite her tiredness. "Course, I'm not a bandit. Refugee, maybe, dunno how many made it out of Strat alive 'for they started burning it…" "Please," the inn wife said with a snort, "Prince Arthas rode to Stratholme, none would dare attack it with him there. A Bandit and a liar then. Be gone with you!" "Mistress I beg you, I am no thief, just hurt, and tired, please…" "Go!" Reaching to the ground beside her the townswoman hefted a rock. Her aim was not good, she missed the mounted ex-guard by a good foot. "Leave before I call the guards to drive you off bandit dog!" She bent and grabbed another rock, and let loose, it missing as well. A painful sting hit the woman from Stratholme in the cheek. She turned and saw several smiling children, gleefully gathering their own stones, and tossing them in her direction. "Bandit dog! Bandit dog! Go dog! Dog! Dog!" They chanted with wicked grins. Their thrown projectiles were better aimed than the inn wifes, and two more times was the woman on the horse hit before she turned her mount away from the inn and back toward the road. A stone took her square in the back, its painful bite reminding her of what she had forgotten completely. Oh thank you so much you vile little brat she thought as the taunting cries and stones of children faded behind her, I so needed to be reminded I'd been whipped. Suppose I should be grateful I wasn't again, stripped and whipped out of your wretched little town. I hope Arthas comes for you next. She rode forward into the darkening twilight, deciding that it may be best if she continued on to the King himself. He did, after all, need to know of what transpired as soon as possible. Dawn broke to find her riding still, moving despite the lack of rest, the weakness of blood loss, and the fever that was beginning to burn. By the time she reached the Thondoril river, the burn had become and inferno. Sweat plastered her hair to her head, yet she clutched her cloak as tightly around her body as she could. She was so cold, so very cold. Her horse had long since dropped from trot to walk, it's labored wheezing breaths matching those of its rider. Before she reached Andorhal she was lost in her illness. She heard voices whispering on the winds, tauntingly faint, loud enough to hear but not make out the words. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, phantoms haunting her slow ponderous travel. Soon she felt ghost touches drifting across her face, like fingers or spider webs. When the voices became loud enough for her to hear the mocking voices of the Corin's children again, she drew up her horse, drawing her sword as she dismounted. She didn't even twitch at the arrows this time, she was much too far gone to even know she was in pain. "I know you're there!" She cried, staring off into the trees defiantly. "Come out and face me cowards! You can't hide!" Swaying on her feet, she waved her sword through the air. "I can hear you! Whispering…whispering I can HEAR you! Come out! I'll fightcha…fightcha all, put m'sword ta each an ev'ry…" And then her threats at the empty road were cut short as her horse crumpled behind her. Breath rattled in its chest, foam covered it hide. To near anyone it would be obvious that the steed was dying. "Hmm? Blue? Oh…" She stumbled over to the horse and laid her hand on its side, then gave it a delusional smile. "Yes…good horse. Right…rest…we'll rest now. Tired…good horse…" She dropped heavily to one knee, barely holding herself up by her sword stabbed into the soil. "We'll rest…just…just a little while. Then…king…need to tell…just a little while…" Her hand slipped from her hilt and with a heavy thud, she collapsed on the ground.
  4. 2006-06-19 16:06:19 She sat alone at the bar of the tavern, staring down at the warm bowl of porridge in her hands and carefully spooning it into her mouth. Her cloak was wrapped tightly around her, a vain effort to fight the chill, the coldness she felt even as fever ran through her blood. She had hoped the fresh hot breakfast would have warmed her, but somehow it made her feel even colder. Wonder if the tavern owner lied 'bout it being from the newest shipment in, and instead used some reserve that had gone bad. Wouldn't put it past him. Occasionally a wracking cough would shake her body, but none of the other patrons paid any attention. With a bitter twist of her lips, the woman sneered to herself. I could drop dead here and I doubt any would give it a second thought, save perhaps the thought of rifling through my pockets, or stealing my sword. She shifted, trying to keep the cloak close but at the same time keep it from resting to heavy on her back. They never care. She thought. I fight for them, protect them from themselves, and they never care. They pretend they don't hear when the poor whore gets murdered in the ally, and say they know nothing when we come to question. They spit on us when I come to arrest their son, never mind that next he could have stolen from them. They watch their neighbors building burn and never think to grab a bucket. They watch the children starve in the streets and never offer even a coin. Even my comrades in arms, the proud guards of Stratholme, turn blind eyes when their commander decides one uppity young guardswoman needs a lesson… Never expected that when she picked up her badge the first time she'd be whipped for her ideals. She'd been reprimanded for doing her job, arresting belligerent drunk that had nearly raped a serving girl. He'd even attacked her when she forced him away from the girl, so of course she'd subdued him. She was just doing her job, didn't even hit him that hard.. But when the light of morning filtered through the windows of the jailhouse and it was discovered to be one of the cities noble sons she had brought in, it was if she was the criminal herself. Cowering hypocritical curs. Pledge to stand for law and justice, but break the pledge soon as someone who might offer you a bit of gold walks into view. Then demand I APOLOGIZE to the whelp? Dammit I was in the right, rich brat deserved more than the clock to the temple I gave him on the way in. Almost wish he'd drawn a sword so that I could have really laid into him. Apologize? Bah, the lashes were well worth the look on his face when the spit hit him. Chuckling lightly to herself, and wincing at the fresh stripes on her back, she finished her drink and headed for the door, though the chuckle turned itself into another deep chest cough. Inwardly she cursed this damned illness again, but then smiled as she was smacked in the shoulder by a large furry nose. "Hey there Blue. How's my buddy eh? How's my big stupid boy?" Grinning she reached up and stroked the muzzle of her horse. "You're a real friend ain'tcha? Ain'tcha? Yes you are ya big lug. Better person than most I know. Hungry?" Reaching into her pack she pulled out a small bag, shaking some of the grain within into her palm. "Look what I got for you, yummy fresh grain, just for my boy." Smiling she let the horse take the food from her hand, then went to fasten the last of her packs behind her saddle. "No worries boy, promise I'll getcha a nice stall at the inn when we reach Corins, letcha rest your hooves while I look for work. Maybe some traders or something looking for guards on the way to Lordaeron. Sound like a plan boy? Yeah, I thought so." Taking the reigns of her mount in hand, the dismissed guardswoman lead the way out onto the streets. She was surprised at how packed they were, crowds gathering and heading, like she, towards the gate. Frowning in slight irritation, she turned to a nearest person beside her and asked what was going on. "We go to see the Prince! Arthas has come to the city, who wouldn't want to go catch a glimpse of so brave and noble a paladin of Light?" The man smiled at her, his enthusiasm matching the people around him. She snorted. "Me for one, just hope the bloody princeling ain't blocking the gate. I got places to be." "But…he's the PRINCE…" "And likely would as soon scrape mud off his boots as look at the likes of us. We ain't worth notice to his ilk, though I reckon he expects the whole city to turn out and greet him anyhow." She coughed again, and spat the resulting phlegm on the street. "Which is fine, long as he ain't blocking my way out the gate." "Well," the now indignant craftsman said, drawing himself up and giving her a haughty disapproving glance, "you are wrong. He's the heir to our fine king, and a holy paladin, and he does not deserve to be badmouthed by some sickly swordwench. Good day!" With that he disappeared into the teeming masses. How lovely, she thought as she walked, ignorance truly must be bliss. Guy must be lucky, seems he's never come anywhere near a highborn, so he still believes the slop they try to lull the unknowing into thinking about them. He's hoping he's never disillusioned. Pushing her way through the people ahead of her, eventually she was in sight of the gate. From the distance she couldn't make out much about the prince and his men, other than their armor glinting as they came up the road to the city. Climbing onto her horses back for a better view, and an easier time moving through the crowd, she watched them approach, and was little impressed. Even when they drew even with the guards on the edge of town and drew their swords for what she expected was going to be some ridiculous pointless salute. What kind of salute is that anyhow? she wondered. They're holding their swords not in respect, but almost like they're about to… Her mind froze in shock mid-thought as the first sword sliced open the throat of the Stratholme guard. The crowd around her stood motionless, watching the bright blood spray out, oblivious for that moment to the fact that princes soldiers still approached. Over the silence of the dumbfounded masses, the voice of Arthas could be heard as he pointed at the citizens and the town. "Destroy it all." With those words panic erupted as the people realize the gravity of their situation. In a surge they pressed away from the gate, fleeing back into the city. Some of the guards broke ranks and sought to flee as well, some blending into the crowd and joining the mob now mindless with fear, while others retained some sense of courage or duty and stood their ground, buying time. But the soldiers were too many and the guards too few. While guards were engaged in combat other soldiers flowed around them and began cutting into the unarmed, fleeing townsfolk. Barely managing to control her mount against the press of bodies, the former guardswoman didn't even stop to make a choice, for there was no choice to be made. Kicking her heels into Blue's flanks, she moved against the crowd, drawing her sword, trying not to trample the people around her as she closed on the attackers. But the going was so slow, she watched a woman disemboweled, a mans skull caved in, even a child speared as she fought forward against the mob. She was still fifty yards from the nearest foe when the arrows took her. She cried out as the pain stabbed into her shoulder and side. Nearly dropping her sword, she gritted her teeth against the pain, leaning forward in the saddle with a feral snarl I will die here today but dammit I will buy these ungrateful sheep time. Light grant me the YEOOWW!! A searing stab of light burned through her skull, more painful than anything she'd ever experienced. She crumpled, toppling from her horse and landing heavily on the cobbles of the street, the arrow below her ribs landing under her and pushing itself further in, the arrowhead erupting out her back. She screamed, but the sound only blended with the rest of the yells. The terrified peasantry trampled around her, and finally over her, as a fear blinded man in his panic unknowingly kicked her in the head. The foot connected solidly with her cheek, and she sank into cold darkness, hearing the screams of city and smelling the first whiff of just kindled fire.
  5. 2006-03-06 23:02:05 During his life, Kalrash was a Cleric and member of the Scarlet Crusade. He found out that the leader was actually an Undead Liche, and told his brothers in arms about it. The Crusade accused him of slanderous lies and broke his jaw with a mace so that he would never speak such poisons again. They decided to carve out his deceiving eyes as well. Left wandering the Plaguelands, Kalrash eventually died of starvation. It wasn't long before he was born again by the Banshee Queen Sylvannis.
  6. 2005-03-03 09:13:21 (Inside a tavern in Orgrimar the new Captain and some grunts gather to celebrate Volonazra's coronation.) Ug der bruddas. First round am un me. Letz git a spot near da fire, am cold out tonight. (Volonazra rubs his head then changes the bandages on many wounds) Wat? How me git dis hurt bad? Me blah latz, when da wench git bak wit da grog. (the wench retuns with the grog and hurrys about her work) Uki, listen me blah da stury. Az da Skullcrushaz entered da arena, drumz beat out da litany uv battle. Me git ta da areana agh gruk dat der will be tuff fightin waitin for me. Buh wer be all da Crushaz? Me unly sees da warboss agh lord Meifftor. How am Volonazra gunna clomp dat priest by meself? Me git ta finkin uv strategiez. Me begin summonin all da powa of shaduw dat me kan. Me prepare ta tak down da tuffest in da clan, alone. When me ready, warboss blah: "clompin begin NOW! Da udda urkz be nub coming. Me giv dem guud clompin when dey git awak." Den da ritual begin. Meifttor stand confident afor me. Me kan feel powa uv himz might. Me fink, diz gunna hurt. Me honor cummand me face da priest, buh me nervez command me run lik panzie. Da warboss stuud between uz, agh blah:" unly da bubhosh will win. clomp ur be clompt" Su da clompin waz gu. Meifftor agh me begin a battle uv shadow. Da ritual circle suun filled with darknezz, thick cloudz uv death, agh da air filled wit horrorz me nub wan ta remember. Me powa seem ta be hurtin da priest buh me being hurt much dub. Me fight hard, me uuz all da powa dat me kan, buh Meifftor still standin agh guin strong. He chasin me nuw. Da luuk in him eye tellz me da hurt suun be ova, him ready fer da final blow. CLOMP! Me flat. Az me start ta blak out, me hear da olog laughin agh da cheerz uv warboss. When me come tu, warboss blah:" Volonazra will liv. Walk it uuf." Da feelin in me nuggin mak me nub sure. When me kan move again, me gu over ta Meifftor tu acknowledge him az captain. Me salute him, agh him ask me ta sit down. Him want blah. Wat da priest blah next i wuz nub ready fer, nub expectin. Meifftor blah:"Da time haz come fer da clan ta hav captain. Diz bad timing fer Me. Shakha wan me ta gu un jurney. Me kan nub refuz ta gu, agh me nub kan giv clan da captain dey needin. Da skullcrushaz need sumash dat kan luuk afta dem right nuw. Me nub kan tak diz ubligasun until me appeaz Shakah. Az captain, me order lat be da captain uv da clan. Lat will be captain while me gawn." Me fink: Wat? Am me head crackin up? Am dis sum olog trik? Ta honor da priest(agh cuz him order me) me obey. Me serv az captain. Meifftor mak warboss gruk dat am captain. Warboss fink sum about diz. Him den blah:"It am su. Da first captain uv da Skullcrusher clan am Volonazra. If him fail, me stick him on a pole agh let da vulturez shread him ta death. Nice agh sluw." Volonara waz stun. Me expect ta lurn sumfing about strength, buh Me lurn much mor uv honor. Da olog lurn me much uv wat it mean ta be "fer da horde". Volonazra swear ta latz bring strength agh honor ta da Skullcrushaz. Me will try mak clan proud. WAAAARRGH. (burp)Bring me anudda grog wench, me still kan feel head. Agh keep bringin till me pass out. Datz huw it all happen crushaz. (hic)
  7. 2005-03-03 08:22:55 Volonazra'z stury startz when Volonazra wuz burne un da nuw moon (a bad sign dem blah). Mama be stress'd by da war wit da scurge an hab baby earlee. So me start libe az weak un little. Dada wuz away clompin Oomies, suw Mama did bes she culd ta mak me tuff. Az me gruw, me lurn da be smurta den udda Urks cuz me nub big ur strong. When me cum ub age, me try ta be tuff Clomp'r. Me nub gud at dat, suw me try lurnin da old ways lik da Warboss Thrall. Me find out da spirits nub lik me an da elements resist me will. Me find dusty paper scribblez un day, an me read it. Dat day me find wat majik be an wat it kin du. Me den fink, Volonazra kin lurn dis. Dis be huw me kin be strong an bring honor to me family. When me studee i finds dat da shadow magik be dangeruus. Me lurns dat it wuz da warloks dat damn da Urks ta bez slav ub da Legion. Me lurn dat many Urk be ebil un wan go against all dat we Urk stand fer nuw. Dey eben wan help da Legion turn uz ta slavs 'gain. Dis, me fink, must neber haben! Dis drive me ta be masta ub shadow magik. Me wan lurn all 'bout it so me see huw ta beat da Shadow Council an keep uz free. Ash day, me clompin da ebil trullz ub Echo Isles un find Grawuulf huntin dem tu. We clomp ull day un night, till dem isles run red wit da blood ub trulls and we had takin Zalazane'z head az a troffee. Grawuulf un me gu back ta village fer sum rest. Him blah 'bout da great strength un honor ub da Skullcrushaz. Him blah, me be gud Urk fer da clan. Suun me blah wit chieftain un join az peon ta serve da boss. Volonazra start az peon agh reach da honor rank uv Captain Nuw, me still lurnin da shadow maguk agh servin da clan. Me hab lurnt da mastery uv taalurin agh da enchantin maguk. Me hab a coven of udda 'locks dat wurk tugedda ta keep uz safe frum da lur ub da legion and frum fallin ta da void. Volonazra be gruwin strong danks ta da clan, agh da powa uv shadow.
  8. 2004-12-28 11:20:48 At the age of two Omarimba got his first action figure, the famous warboss of the Skull crusher orc clan and his dreaded axe. This Grulg action figure was no ordinary one, it came with a human that had its intestines spilled out. But that’s not all Grulg also had buttons and he could say many abnoxious comments about all the alliance races a few for example. “Clomp time”, “Das be gud ting clomp”, “Nu mo oomies lef zo clomp”. By the time he was four Omarimba had learned how to wield many deadly weapons and to their fullest potential, although he wasent a good kid some say his sneaking abilities and stealthy arts will come in use one day. AND THEY WERE RIGHT. At the age of 9 he received his first goldent tipped spear from his tribe. Although gold is not loathed much by the trolls it was a great symbole of honor. “killing an elbz on a hunt”. Although he was at a young age he snuck with the group to hunt : ) (what a little devil). By the time he was 17 he had done many countless raids aginst the elf’s. Although his new profession is looked down apon by many it is his life! The life of a rogue “a watcher from the shadows”. Another year passed and Omarimba did the most daring thing anyone as a rouge could do. Although he did it to impress his friends his task was to sneak into Jaina Proudmore’s bedroom and spend the night. To all his friends surprise he made it in there and dident come out till the morning. (What a little rascle). With this impossible dead in his resumay the Skull Crushers finally accepted him, and he is now a body guard for the warchief grulg, willing to give his life for anything for the clan.
  9. 2004-11-20 11:29:43 As a young troll living in the Den, Meifftor found his true meaning of his life; to help the orcs in their cause. He came to this realization of this when one day a badly wounded orc came staggering back to the Den. Everyone arose as the unknown orc collasped on the ground. All of the orcs just sat there and watched one of their own bleed to death. Soon they began cheer knowing that their companion was dieing of wounds from battle. Knowing that a live orc is better then a dead orc, Meifftor began to chant. Soon all the orcs wounds had disappred. One orc noticed this and took and intrest in Meifftor, he was one of the members of the Skullcrusher Orc Clan. So to this day Meifftor can be found healing the Orcs of the clan and will continue to till the end of his days.
  10. 2004-08-28 17:08:01 By strange circumstance, Rhoach ended up living most of his life in a human city. This necessitated staying out of sight for most of his life, leading to a larcenous lifestyle. When he was young, he had the delusion that he was a human, and it took him a long time to accept the fact that he was, in fact, a troll. His given human name is Ulrich, but he never uses it, as it brings back bad memories. He ended up working with the thieves' guild of the aforementioned city, the only organization in the city that would accept a troll into their ranks. Eventually, he got tired of the discrimination against his heritage, even in the thieves' guild, and decided to seek out more of his own kind. He left the guild against his master's wishes, and was on the run from him for a great long time. He went on a search for answers, and came to the conclusion that everything was just a big, incomprehensibe mishmash. Eventually, he ran into a member of the Skullcrusher Orc clan, and the rest is history. Now, he does whatever he thinks he'll get the most kicks out of. Sometimes he flips a coin to determine whether he'll risk his life in certain situations.
  11. 2004-08-28 17:07:27 Part 1 Stranglethorn Vale 10 years Before Present Rhoach peered out of the thick foliage into the clearing. The 11-year old troll had developed keen survival instincts during his childhood. One of these instincts was staying hidden, and that instinct dictated that open, bright spaces were to be avoided as a rule. This ingrained behavior had served him well during his flight from the human city of Stormwind. A thieves’ guild was not an organization to be left lightly in the best of times. With a master like Kzar the Knife, desertion meant certain death for the deserter unwary enough to be caught ((but that is a story for another time, dear reader)). Rhoach’s ruminations were interrupted by the sound of rustling branches. Slowly turning his ears toward the source of the noise, he shrank further back into the shadows, dropping on all fours into a feral, alert crouch. Only the faint yellow gleam of his eyes betrayed his presence in the wall of greenery. Two tall humans and a dwarf walked into the clearing. One of the humans, a female, was clearly a mage, using a staff with a glowing gem on top as a walking stick. The other human walked with a noble bearing. He was clad in chainmail and wore a shield over a large warhammer strapped across his back. The dwarf seemed typical of his race, holding a two-handed battleaxe against his shoulder and wearing a dour expression. “I think we’re off course, Chorich,” the dwarf spoke grumpily, addressing the human with the sword. “No tellin’ what lies in these woods,” he added gloomily, fingering his axe and throwing suspicious glances at their surroundings. Rhoach crouched a little lower and stilled his breathing. “Patience, Kerlack,” the mage spoke softly, fingering the gem on the top of her staff. “Kivian will lead us aright. He has never failed us before.” “Where is that damned ranger anyway….” the dwarf grumbled. Too late, Rhoach heard the slight sound of a dry autumn leaf crunching less than a foot behind him. Muscular, purple hands grabbed Rhoach underneath his armpits and hoisted him into the air from his prone position. A night elf, apparently Kivian, held the squirming Rhoach aloft as he walked into the clearing. Chorich merely raised his eyebrow when he saw the ranger’s prize. “Find yourself some vermin, Kivian?” “It would appear so, paladin,” the night elf spoke, disdain in his voice. Whether the disdain was directed at his wiggling captive or the human, Rhoach couldn’t tell. The small troll (he was about a foot shy of the paladin’s height) was dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the clearing and immediately surrounded by the company of Alliance members. Part 2 Rhoach scrambled to his feet and found a hammer spike pointed at his throat. He reflexively stumbled back and fell into a sitting position. He cut a rather pathetic figure, his scrawny form betraying the fact that he hadn’t eaten a substantial meal in weeks. His clothes, being little more than rags at the outset of his journey, had hardly benefited from the long days of slogging through t###### vegetation. He was equipped with nothing but his clothing, save for a hidden dagger he kept strapped to the underside of his forearm. His darting eyes and lean appearance gave the impression of a hunted animal. “What’ll we do with the little monster?” Chorich asked coldly, looking down the point of his hammer at the cringing ball of misery on the other end. He obviously assumed that their catch didn’t understand what he was saying. “What do you mean, ‘what’ll we do with it,’ Chorich?” Kerlack spoke growlingly. “Kill it, of course. Its kind has been responsible for the deaths of many of my people. If it is set free this day, the blood of my kin will be on my hands.” “Kerlack!” the mage cried. “Look at it, it’s just a child!” The words of Rhoach’s old master feverishly flashed through his mind; ‘There is a reason the wolf goes to the effort to dress himself in sheep’s clothing,’ his old master used to say. That was one of Rhoach’s first lessons. He reminded himself to keep his teachings foremost in his mind, as they had saved his life more than once in the past. Rhoach put on his most pathetic face and puppy dog eyes, hoping to glean some more sympathy from the mage, as she appeared to be the only one who stood between him and a slit throat. It worked. “Chorich,” the mage spoke scoldingly, “it’s scared! Just put down your weapon and let’s ask it what it’s doing out here.” “Ask it what it’s…?” the paladin sputtered. “Marianne, you speak as if it’s more than a beast! I know how trolls conduct their ‘business,’ living mostly naked in the jungles, tundras, and forests where no sane race would even dream of living. My apologies, Kivian,” he added quickly as the elf bristled a bit at the forest comment. “Why, I’ve even heard they eviscerate live captives for the sport of it!” he continued, eyeing Rhoach balefully. “You put too much stock in rumors, paladin,” Kivian stated softly. “Trolls are worthy opponents, and are more similar to my own people than any Alliance race. I doubt they would commit such heinous acts, outside of their witch doctory.” “Ha! Any race that condones such heathenistic practices deserves everything the heavens can throw at them,” Chorich spoke, sneering. “Besides, trolls cannot speak any of God’s languages. We couldn’t communicate with it even if we wanted to,” he said, waving the matter aside. Rhoach’s mind had raced during the conversation. Should he betray the fact that he was, for all cultural intents and purposes, a non-troll? What would he gain by revealing this? What would he lose? “Lesson nine: when the darkness fails you, words must be your cloak of shadows,” Rhoach muttered quietly to himself, remembering. Also, during the small company’s debate, Rhoach’s ears had caught the faint sound of what sounded like… chanting? When the wind shifted, it seemed to fade. It had gone unnoticed by the arguing Alliance members, however. Part 3 “…don’t know that it’s evil just because it’s a troll,” Marianne was saying, gesticulating with her staff. Chorich had obviously lost some of his holy conviction under the onslaught of the mage’s words. He now held his hammer at Rhoach as if he had forgotten why he had done so in the first place. Watching the two, Rhoach surmised that they were probably very close, a mated pair perhaps. While the paladin and mage were trading words, the dwarf, Kerlack, had grown more and more impatient. His face had grown redder and redder, until finally he hoisted his axe and shouted, “By my beard! You humans are hopeless! I’m disposing of this little rat right now!” The dwarf took a step toward Rhoach, who, desperately looking for something to buy time, shouted back in the common Alliance language, “I’m no rat, you gnomelicking midget!” He had learned some creative insults as a master thief’s apprentice. The entire company widened their eyes in amazement and stared at him. The dwarf’s jaw nearly hit the ground as he held his axe aloft in midstrike. “It… speaks the Alliance language?” he asked nobody in particular. At that moment, the chanting in the woods that Rhoach had heard earlier returned suddenly with a vengeance. This time it was loud enough to make a small flock of crows take flight from some nearby trees, cawing raucously. Time seemed to freeze as a confused, then angry expression crossed Kerlack’s face. Before he could say whatever was on his mind, however, a bolt of electricity streaked down from the strangely clear sky and ripped through the dwarf’s axe, which acted as a lightning rod. A blinding light and a boom of thunder knocked captive and captor alike to the ground. Part 4 Kivian was the first to recover his wits. “Chorich?” he called. “I’m here,” a groggy voice responded. “Marianne?” “I’m alright,” a voice near Chorich’s shakily reported. “Kerlack?” Silence. Angry with himself for not being more alert, Kivian stood up warily in the tall prairie grass to peer over at the large scorch mark that used to be Kerlack. “A trap,” he snarled. “Where’s that little demon?” Rhoach, during all this time, had lain prone after the explosion. He hadn’t seen a blast like that since Sharky had botched the job on the alchemist’s lab((again, a story for another time)). Upon hearing the elf’s snarling accusation, Rhoach had decided that it was time to disappear. He had the feeling that he’d be spitted on the nasty looking spear the infuriated elf now brandished before he got a chance to plead his innocence. Before he could do anything, however, he heard a loud crashing of branches as an orc came hurtling out into the clearing, seeming to destroy a small part of the forest in the process. This was the first time Rhoach had ever seen an orc, and this one certainly seemed to live up to the fearsome rumors Rhoach had always heard about them. This one had many trappings about it, bearing numerous trophies and medals on its scant armor. It had an insignia on its right breast depicting a broken skull. The only thing more terrifying than its growling, gaping-mouthed countenance was the huge claymore that the rapidly approaching creature wielded in one hand as if it were a short sword. Rhoach heard a rough voice with a strange accent calling from the forest, “Grulg! Waid ub!” The heedless Grulg (for Grulg it was) did not stop his charge until he had reached Kivian, who had risen to meet the orc’s charge, gripping his spear and quickly assuming a defensive stance. His bow hung uselessly on his back; the orc’s mad dash had been too quick for him to even nock an arrow. “It’s the Horde!” the night elf screamed as he raised his spear to parry Grulg’s incoming blade. When the blow landed, however, the elf’s spear did no good. Grulg brought the weapon crashing down with such viciousness and brute strength that it snapped the steel haft of the weapon without stopping, continuing its deadly arc until it had ripped the elf from shoulder to groin. Kivian fell with a slight sighing sound and lay still. Part 5 The paladin had struggled to his feet just in time to see the ranger cut down. His face contorted with righteous fury and lit with a strange inner glow as he raised his warhammer to the heavens. The very air around the human seemed to ripple with power. Even Grulg looked a little unsure of his chances. Letting out a battle cry that seemed to come straight from the gods themselves, the paladin fairly flew across the battlefield to meet his enemy in glorious combat…. and promptly tripped over the cowering Rhoach, who had been trying to crawl his way back into the woods unnoticed. Grulg grinned at the prone form in front of him and reversed his enormous sword in his right hand, preparing to deliver the killing blow. A cry sounded from the ground nearby. “Chorich!” Marianne, the mage, had regained her feet and was pointing her finger at the orc standing over the paladin. She quickly spoke an arcane word and a small ball of fire shot from her index finger and hit the orc in the chest. He stumbled backward and beat his chest with his free hand, attempting to snuff out the flames without success. “UGLUUUUUUUUUUUUUTZ!” the burning orc howled as he continued to stumble back towards the forest’s edge. “Wud lat wunt?” another orc, also wearing the emblem of a broken skull, spoke crankily as it hobbled out of the woods. Grulg gestured at his flaming chest frantically. “Me blah lat, waid ub!” Uglutz muttered moodily. He glanced over at the humans. The paladin was up again, and the mage was chanting. Still muttering, Uglutz raised his hands and made a few gestures. A small raincloud appeared above Grulg’s head, dousing the flames quickly. Then the icestorm hit. As Marianne finished her chanting, daggers of ice came shooting down, embedding themselves in trees, the ground, and whatever else they happened to come into contact with. One struck a horned helmet worn by Uglutz, shattering one of the horns with its kinetic force. Uglutz gained an even crankier look(if that’s possible) and waved his hand once more. A wave of intense heat radiated outward from the orcish shaman, melting the incoming shards of ice fifteen feet before they ever reached the ground. Grulg looked around in wonderment and exclaimed, “Dis nu vudu bubhosh, Uglutz!” His companion merely grunted and pointed back at the battlefield, where the paladin seemed to be running around the clearing in random patterns. Grulg shrugged at the spectacle and rushed back into the clearing, leaving Uglutz to chant. Or whatever it was that shamans did when they were left alone, the orc thought to himself. Part 6 Rhoach had taken off as soon as he had recovered from Ulrich’s boot in his ribs. It was well, as the paladin had gotten up soon after and chased Rhoach with surprising speed for one who was wearing chain armor and heavy boots. As the incensed Chorich gained on him, Rhoach feinted left and doubled back around the surprised human. Rhoach darted past his pursuer… straight into the raging Grulg who was running the other way. The startled troll had enough wits about him to tuck himself into a ball and roll in between the orc’s legs, who appeared to see only his foe in the deepening twilight of the forest clearing. Rhoach came out of his roll and hit the ground running. Free! He thought to himself. As he neared the clearing’s edge, he heard the mage speak a sharp command and a crackle sounded behind him. Before Rhoach had time to wonder what it was, electricity suddenly surged through his body, causing him to hit the ground and twitch convulsively, little arcs of light dancing through his teeth. The paladin immediately gave up chasing the wretched troll and steeled himself to meet his opponent’s charge, this time slinging his shield from his back and holding it close to his body. Now the orc would flail uselessly at the wall of metal, allowing Choric to choose his blows as he pleased. Or so the paladin thought. His look of smug satisfaction turned to one of surprise as Grulg planted his feet and hurled a throwing axe from his belt faster than Chorich could blink. It whistled by the startled paladin’s face by mere inches. The human’s surprise turned to relief… and then he heard a groan behind him. A horrible feeling growing in his gut, he turned around slowly, his worry making him heedless to his foe. Marianne lay on the ground, the axe embedded in her sternum. Her life’s blood was quickly spilling itself into the rich soil of the clearing. “Mari!” Chorich cried out tearfully, hurrying to her side and kneeling. He laid his hands on her, crying out to his god to heal her. Her bleeding slowed to a trickle. He felt life flow from his limbs into her body, and urged himself to give more. As he desperately worked his craft, he heard the heavy, clomping steps of his hated foe closing in quickly. Cursing, he gave up healing Marianne for the moment and hastily readied his shield and hammer. Grulg came at him with a bloodthirsty yell, and soon the two were locked in combat. Part 7 Meanwhile, Uglutz had lackadaisically ambled his way over to where Rhoach lay, still twitching slightly. Grulg knelt down next to the wounded troll and stared at him for a bit. “Don’ wanna go ta lockpickin’ practice…” the juvenile troll was muttering feverishly in his comatose state. “Hmm…” Uglutz pondered to himself. “Dis olog blah oomie blah…” Nodding to himself, Uglutz called upon his shamanistic powers to heal the jagged scar of charred flesh running down the length of Rhoach’s back. Gradually, Rhoach stopped muttering as the magic did its work. The shaman’s powers restored the blackened skin and scrambled muscle the way Rhoach’s natural powers of regeneration could not. Rhoach’s eyes fluttered a bit, then opened fully. When he saw Uglutz crouched over him, he sprang backward and would have sprinted into the forest in a blink had the shaman not called out to him. “Ug! Lat der!” the orc called after the starved, but still spry, troll. “’less lat stup, me vudu lat!” Rhoach froze upon hearing the word voodoo, if he understood nothing else. He had witnessed the power of Uglutz’s magic. He did not wish to be hit by lightning twice in one day. He turned back slowly to Uglutz. The shaman grinned and tapped his fingernails together, out of which sprang large dragonflies. Rhoach stood, not daring to move. “Olog. Lat hep Grulg. Dat Grulg.” The shaman pointed at the field of battle. Rhoach assumed that this strange being was referring to the other orc, now in the action of parrying a strike from the human’s warhammer. “Clomp da oomie.” Uglutz pulled his lips down to cover his jutting teeth in an impression of a human, then mimed hitting himself with a large axe he unstrapped from his back, wearing an exaggerated expression of fear and speaking in a high falsetto: “No! Dun’ clomp me, me jus’ liddul panzee!” The shaman looked over to Rhoach, who wore a befuddled expression on his face. He was trying to figure out if the orc before him was playing some kind of trick on him, wanted him to do something, was mentally unbalanced, or perhaps all of the above. Uglutz interpreted the befuddled look as complete understanding. “Gud. Go. Clomp. Or me vudu lat.” Rhoach cocked his head to the side. He understood what the shaman wanted of him (after a little pondering), but he didn’t know what he would get out of it. The privilege of being allowed to remain in the world of the living? A particularly loud clash sounded from the center of the clearing. Uglutz poked him and pointed sharply towards the duelists, his patience at an end. Rhoach shrugged and slinked off in the direction of the combatants, keeping low to the ground and fingering the dagger strapped underneath his forearm. His smart aleck attitude had been the cause of several scars from Kzar. He wasn’t fond of making himself appear meek, much to his former mentor’s chagrin. Part 8 As Rhoach neared the battle, he took stock of the situation. Both combatants had slowed down considerably from their initial fervor. They were circling each other guardedly, each not daring to take his eyes off the other for a second. Their movements were slow and halting. It was clear they were both at the point of exhaustion. The mage lay on the ground twenty paces or so away from the fight. Rhoach could not tell if she was dead or just unconscious. He decided to find out. Skirting the fighters, he made his way over to the still form. Unnoticed by either of the meleers, Rhoach knelt down beside the mage. After poking her a few times with no response, he decided to check her heartbeat. He started to put his head to her chest, then realized something was in his way. It was an axe, embedded in the mage’s sternum. “That’ll have to go,” Rhoach muttered to himself. He tugged on it. Nothing. He pulled harder. It didn’t budge. Frowning, Rhoach hopped up onto the mage’s chest, locked both hands around the axe handle, put his feet against her stomach, and heaved with all his strength. After a second of straining, the axe ripped free of the mage, and Rhoach found out the messy way that the axe had been keeping the mage’s blood inside her. A spray of crimson hit Rhoach in the face, startling him and causing him to lose his grip on the axe as he was falling back. The axe sailed behind Rhoach and flew in between the nearby duelists, making both fighters jump back and peer warily around them. Rhoach looked down to discover that if the mage hadn’t been dead before, she was now, judging by the gaping hole in her chest. Chorich looked and saw that little scab of a troll crouched over Marianne, her chest a bouquet of blood and splintered ribs. The paladin’s face turned a deathly white as he stood, eyes transfixed upon the sight. It felt like the bottom had dropped out of his soul as he unconsciously stretched out his arm to his beloved. Then the world seemed to turn upside down, everything was black, and he knew no more. Rhoach watched the human fall, a blank expression on the young troll’s face. Once more, his mentor’s words tumbled through his mind like sand through an hourglass; ‘Lesson six: a turned back is no defense against an assassin’s blade.’ Part 9 Grulg wiped his blade on the corpse of the now-headless human, grinning. “Pushdug oomie no see zult. Gud muv, olog!” he yelled to Rhoach. The wary troll waved back at him cautiously, having no idea what had just been said. Now what? Rhoach wondered to himself Uglutz came stumping up to Grulg and whispered a few things in the other orc’s ear. Grulg raised an eyebrow, nodded back to Uglutz, and the pair approached the flighty troll still perched upon the mage’s ruined breast. On the way, Uglutz knelt and severed the paladin’s leg just below the knee, placing it in a filthy boarskin bag he unhooked from around his waist. “Wer lat frum, olog?” Uglutz asked Rhoach, tossing the bag near the troll’s feet. Rhoach shrugged, not understanding the question. “Hmph. Lat blah oomie blah.” Pointing to himself, Uglutz said, “Me Uglutz, Vuduboss Clan Skullcrusher. Dis Grulg, Warboss Clan Skullcrusher.” Grulg grinned down at Rhoach. “Lat?” Uglutz asked, pointing at Rhoach. After a couple seconds of silence, Rhoach realized that he was expected to introduce himself. “Oh, uh… me Rhoach.” The shaman nodded, leaned down close to Rhoach’s ear and spoke conspiratorially. “Skullcrusherz prob’ gunna’ be on own sun. Cud uze gud olog. ‘specially ash whu blah oomie…” Uglutz looked down at the troll to see how his audience was listening. Rhoach was picking his nose, looking bored. Uglutz sighed, then noticed the young troll’s hand lingering on one of the dead mage’s baubles, a gold necklace. “Hmmm…” Uglutz wondered aloud. “Dis ash sneek’r…” He snapped his fingers and reached into a pouch at his side, withdrawing a handful of silver and gold pieces he had looted from a merchant’s stall during the last Horde plunder. “See dis?” He smiled in satisfaction as he saw Rhoach’s eyes widen slightly and gain a covetous look. “Menny shineez wid uz. Lat go tu ORGRIMMAR. Ax fer SKULLCRUSHER CLAN. Be wid uz, git SHINEEZ.” Uglutz practically shouted these last words, as he figured those would be what the troll understood. The troll was covering his ears and squinting back at the eccentric shaman, but repeated, “Orgrimmar. Skullcrushers… shinies?” Rhoach pondered the orc’s words, looking down and screwing up his face in concentration. He nodded to himself and locked his gaze with Uglutz’s. “You saved my life. I’ll be there.” Uglutz nodded in satisfaction, not totally understanding the little troll’s language, but taking the response as a positive one, nonetheless. Gesturing at the bag he had tossed at the troll’s feet, he said, “Take. Eet. Oomie meat gud. Lat luk lyk skinee elbzie. Go.” The sound of more orcish voices came from the east side of the clearing. After one last questioning glance, Rhoach picked up the bag and swiftly skittered into the dense vegetation of Stranglethorn Vale. Part 10 (final chapter) Orgrimmar 1 year Before Present A lanky troll walked into the gates of Orgimmar with smooth, fluid motion. He looked like any other troll save for the gleam in his eye when he eyed a passing tauren merchant’s bulging pouch. He accosted the tauren. The bull man snorted in irritation, but stopped, wondering what the troll had to say. “Skullcrushers?” the troll asked with a strange accent. The tauren had no idea what the troll was talking about. It shook its head and began to walk away. The troll quickly stepped in front of him and repeated, “Skullcrushers?” The tauren growled and attempted to walk around this irritating troll. Once more, the troll blocked the tauren’s path and repeated once more, “Skullcrushers?” The tauren had had enough. It picked the troll up by the neck with one massive arm and tossed him to the dirt against a nearby stone wall. Harumphing to itself in indignation, the tauren continued on its way. Rhoach stood up and dusted himself off. “Thank you for your help, kind sir,” he chuckled as he emptied the tauren’s purse into his own, tossing the emptied pouch to the dusty streets of Orgrimmar… It took him the rest of the day to find an individual who could point him in the right direction. That was fine by him, however. More time in the city meant more time to enrich himself. Ah, how good it was to be back in a populated area, with all the interesting inhabitants and their equally interesting accumulated wealth. Finally, he ran into a fellow troll who gave him the directions to the nearby Skullcrusher encampment. Rhoach nodded his thanks and set off. A couple hours later, he walked into the camp. After asking around for Uglutz, he was pointed in the direction of a tent with, oddly enough, purple smoke billowing out the front. And who emerged from that smoking abode but that strange figure from ten long years ago, back when he was just a whelp: the odd orcish shaman. He was even wearing that helmet that had had one of its horns shattered on that fateful day. As Rhoach approached the grizzled orc, a voice spoke up in his head. ‘Lesson fifteen: always honor your word. It is all our people have.”
  12. 2004-07-08 23:14:00 The battle had reached a fevered pitch, the sound of bloodthirsty orc warcries and ululating elf chants filling the air, the clash of weapons and the screams of the dying completing the symphony of carnage on the battlefield. Rhoach ignored it all as he continued his climb to the top of the watchtower. Scarcely seven feet from the top, Rhoach heard a sort of whistling sound subtly reaching his ears over the regular sounds of battle. "What's that...?" Rhoach wondered aloud, pausing in his climb to look around. Suddenly, something smashed into the top of the watch tower, bringing with it an almost unbearable heat and a blinding flash, causing Rhoach to grit his teeth and look away. With both of his arms wrapped around the scaffolding, Rhoach felt the watch tower rock and shudder. Eventually, the structure stabilized, and Rhoach was able to look up and survey the damage. The protective basket at the top of tower and the trolls contained inside it were totally gone. Rhoach blinked. Magework. The need to urinate was more urgent than ever. Rhoach chattered his teeth a few times (a habit he had developed to calm himself down), shrugged, and began to unbundle a spear from the pack he had managed to hold on to during the blast. As he did so, he squinted across the battlefield, taking a more careful look at the elven army they were facing. We can't take these numbers... Rhoach thought. And that mountain giant quickly approaching the entrance to the fort looked none too friendly as well... A plan of escape began to form in his mind. As he was thinking, an arrow whizzed by his face, causing him to reflexively jerk back, bringing him back the present as quickly as he had drifted off. Growling, he finished loosening the tie on the bundle and hefted the spear in his right hand. Grabbing on to the scaffolding with his left, he leaned far out to the right, took aim at an elven swordsman, and threw. He saw the spear pierce the elf's stomach. The elf clutched his abdomen and was lost in the shuffle of combatants. Grinning to himself in satisfaction, Rhoach pulled another spear from the bundle and repeated the process. Hey, this battle isn't turning out to be so bad, Rhoach thought to himself as he downed elf after elf. Close, easy targets without much risk... hey! An arrow thunked into the scaffolding. Apparently, an elven archer had seen Rhoach's antics and decided to put an end to this nuisance. Rhoach was forced to duck behind the poles of the scaffolding when he wasn't throwing spears, and he had to throw quickly. This was making him miss most of his targets and waste his dwindling supply of spears. What was worse, the mountain giant had reached the front lines, and was making its way towards Uglutz and the clan shamans who were a short distance from the watch tower Rhoach was currently in. As if THAT weren't bad enough, the need to pee had reached a new high and was making Rhoach constantly squeeze his legs together to avoid embarassment in addition to death. "Now what..." Rhoach muttered, throwing another spear and managing to wing another elf. Before he could duck back behind the thicker sections of the scaffolding, the pesky elven archer hit his mark. An arrow jutted out of Rhoach's right thigh quicker than he could comprehend its coming. He hissed in pain and stumbled, barely managing to hold onto his few remaining spears and keep his balance. Another arrow zoomed by. This one, by sheer chance or by an elf's cruel sense of humor, caught the string on Rhoach's loincloth, effectively piercing it and ripping it off of him, and shooting it past the watchtower into the nearby fort walls with a dull THUNK. Rhoach snarled slowly and wondered what he had done to offend the gods so. It wasn't enough that he was going to die, now he was going to die naked. The thought of elves trampling over his naked body made his exotic skin burn with anger. Poking his head out from behind cover, Rhoach narrowed his eyes, looking for that treehugging, weakblooded, maddening elven archer who took away his mobility and loincloth with well-placed arrows. There! Rhoach picked him out among the middle ranks of the elven army. When the elf observed Rhoach's nakedness, it grinned and nocked another arrow, apparently planning to finish the job. Rhoach's snarl contorted his entire face as he locked his eyes on the target and threw his last spear with all his strength. It flew across the battlefield, reaching an enormous height at its arc. Plunging down onto the battlefield, it pierced the elf's pelvis, shattering its hip and pinning it to the ground. Rhoach, his eyes on the progress of the spear, did not even see or feel the elf's last shot until he had watched the elf fall with grim satisfaction. Looking down at himself, he saw another arrow, this one sticking out of his knee. Rhoach bent it experimentally, then howled with pain, his leg buckling. The world swam before his eyes for a few seconds, making him throw his arms around the scaffolding to avoid falling. "Hm, better not do that again," he breathed to himself, grinning ruefully. At that moment, Rhoach felt the ground begin to shake. Uh-oh... he thought. Looking down, he saw that the mountain giant had reached the clan shamans who were chanting below him. Standing well over fourteen feet tall, the giant was less than five feet below Rhoach's ankles on the scaffolding. Rhoach saw the giant raise its club to dispatch the group of shamans in one fell swoop before they could finish their chanting. Before it could squash them, Rhoach saw an orcish clan member, Glok'tur, charge into the area. Glok'tur let out a battle cry, raised double axes, and threw them at the giant. They stuck into the giant's shins. The giant roared, fumbling with its club and staggering around. Momentarily, it had recovered itself, however, and faced its new opponent with the axes still embedded in its shins. Watching the scene, Rhoach saw the brave orc looking left and right for a new weapon as the giant closed in on him. Rhoach reached for a spear, then realized that he had thrown his last one at that pesky elf, and scimitars were worthless for throwing... What to do... what to do... Rhoach thought fervently, as the giant had almost reached Glok'tur. Maybe it was the stress of the battle. Maybe it was Rhoach's mischevious mind at work. Maybe it was his nakedness. Whatever the cause, Rhoach had an idea. Grinning to himself, and thanking his foster father for being able to speak some of the alliance language, Rhoach shouted, "Overgrown dwarf! Up here!" as he threw the bundle of thick spear tie at the giant's head. The giant heard an insult and felt something bounce off the top of its head. Glancing up in irritation, the giant let out a rumbling cry of fury as thick, greenish liquid cascaded down into its eyes. Rhoach was hanging onto the scaffolding with one hand and directing the 'assault' with the other. The giant dropped its club and staggered blindly around, groping for some kind of handhold. Its eyes burned as if acid had been poured in it, troll piss being even more vile than the usual fare. Rhoach laughed, giddy with success, loss of blood, and the brilliant afterglow of just having taken a long-needed piss. He even took his hand off of the scaffolding to point at the giant. It was at this moment that he tumbled off the scaffolding, his leg finally being able to take no more, buckling at the knee. Rhoach laughed all the way to the ground until he made impact in front of Glok'tur, sending up a huge cloud of dust and losing consciousness.
  13. 2004-05-23 03:14:13 Rhoach was dreaming. In his dream, his human foster father had grown to immense proportions, and was in the process of trying to crush Rhoach with his ironshod boots. There was a sound, as well, in the distance. It sounded like horns... horns... HORNS! Rhoach sat up swiftly in his humble open air cot on the fringes of the skullcrusher encampment, reflexively drawing and brandishing double scimitars that had been laid at his sides during his slumber. By the gods, battle? Rhoach thought fervently to himself. And I haven't even had my afternoon piss. A low ranking orc, a peon, like Rhoach, tore by, screaming something about 'elbzies' in the clan dialect Rhoach still wasn't totally comfortable with, even after years of learning it. A second later, the orc fell dead, an elven arrow suddenly protruding from his throat. Rhoach quickly scooted off and hid under his cot, clad only in his loincloth, glancing alertly left and right. Rhoach's large trollish nose twitched. An elf was very close. He saw before he heard the soft leather boot silently press into the dirt, scarcely ten feet from his cot. A night elf, a male, knelt over the body of the fallen orc, making sure he was dead, then moved on to inspect Rhoach's cot. Rhoach cursed his habit of sleeping outside the usual cluster of the rank-and-file peons, making a mental note to remember the old adage of safety in numbers. The boots of the elf stopped two feet away from Rhoach's face. The cot completely hid Rhoach's body, but something wasn't right. Rhoach could smell the elf's tenseness, its caution. Rhoach's nose twitched again, smelling... what was that smell? Rhoach's brain screamed an alarm as the scent was recognized, the scent of cold steel. The large, lithe troll rolled to the side just as an elvish blade came crashing down where Rhoach's heart had been seconds before. Instead of a fatal blow, the sword pierced Rhoach's shoulder. Rhoach grimaced in pain and hate as he reached out and seized the elf's booted foot. Rhoach twisted and pulled. The blade was wrenched from Rhoach's shoulder as the elf was drug to the ground. The elf was yanked underneath the cot, where Rhoach would have a better chance of overpowering it. Rhoach and the elf grappled back and forth with the blade the elf held, but in the end, Rhoach's superior strength won out in the close quarters. Rhoach pinned the elf's hands while he bit deeply into the elf's neck. Purple blood gushed out in great gouts, letting the troll know that he had hit his target: the jugular. The elf's struggles quickly ceased, its body growing still within the space of a minute. Rhoach studied the body in the dim confines of the space underneath the cot while he let his shoulder heal itself. Already, the trickle of blood from the wound had stopped, thanks to trollish regeneration. Rhoach felt grateful for his heritage at that moment, though he had cursed it many times before. In the sunlight shining through the gash in the cot the elf's sword had made, Rhoach recognized light armor, even for an elf, a bow, and only the small sword the elf had tried to end Rhoach's life with. Hm, Rhoach thought. A scout. "Better get to others before main force arrives," Rhoach muttered to himself. Risking a glance from underneath his cot, Rhoach spied Uglutz hurrying along a trail towards a tight cluster of Skullcrushers. Rhoach growled at the thought of the ridicule he suspected he would receive upon arriving almost completely naked at the gathering point, but there was no time to dress himself properly. "Heh, not living with "oomies" anymore, Rhoach," he reminded himself. Rhoach grabbed his scimitars and their scabbards, took one last glance around, and rolled out from under his cot. Stealthily making his way from tree to tree, he made his way towards the gathering of his fellow clan members, hoping that there'd be time soon to relieve himself. He still really had to piss.
  14. 2004-03-26 18:28:23 Darkness crept over the mountain hills of Gre’goth pass. The impending storm blocked all attempts by the sun to shed light over the blighted land. Thunder boomed in the distance, foreshadowing the downpour of rain to come. Uglutz pulled his man-skin cloak tighter in a vain attempt to keep the cold wind out of his bones. Tired and hungry, he picked a spot to set up camp beneath a large glade of everwood trees. Hours later, a small campfire provided warmth as Uglutz ate the few rabbits he could find raw. The glade of everwood provided little shelter from the rain, as the fall season had already claimed most of the covering foliage the trees could provide. The flames of the campfire danced about, as if attempting to dodge the impending assault of rain. It would not be long before the flames would lose its battle with the wind and rain, and dwindle away. Sitting down below one of the great everwood trees, Uglutz propped his staff across his lap, and closed his eyes for some much needed rest. Thunder continued to boom overhead relentlessly, magnified by the glade of trees in an almost endless echo. Evening past into the pitch blackness of night. The small campfire had lost its battle against the rain, leaving only a few dimly lit embers of its memory. The thunderstorm had passed taking most of the rain with it. Only a small sprinkling of rain continued. The sound of metal armor clanking against itself and boots trampling through mud began to pierce the still of the glade, though the night masked their approach. Seeing the dim embers of the fire, the convoy changed direction towards where Uglutz slumbered. The two heavily armed knights stood directly in front of the slumbering orc with swords drawn, examining him with great scrutiny. It would be an easy kill for the experienced warriors, and orc ears gave at least two crowns in any village. “Wake up horde slime!” stammered one of the knights as he pointed his sword in the orc’s direction. Without so much as stirring, the orc continued to snore mildly beneath the tree. “Here now orc! Awaken so you might see the means of your dispatch!” sneered the other knight, growing impatient. Uglutz opened one eye to examine the two men and ceased his snoring. “Gu way. Leeb me be. Me sleep,” replied Uglutz. Without so much as another word, the grizzled looking orc closed his eye, and returned to his snoring slumber. The two knights looked at one another, with something between a laugh and a curious expression on their faces. The orc must have been mad! No matter, they would dispatch him in his sleep if need be. Taking a step closer to the orc, the two knights raised their swords. This time, both of the orc’s eyes shot open. In only a second, both knights were frozen in place as vines from the earth grappled around their feet, prohibiting their advancement to the orc. “Lat nub leeb me be. Wuy lat hab tu wayk me?” growled the orc as he continued to sit beneath the tree. Rising to his feet, the orc lifted his staff to the sky, the black crystal adorning the staff’s top appeared to generate some sort of light. Franticly trying to cut themselves free of the vines, the knights began to panic. It was to no avail. Uglutz swirled his staff in the air in a circular motion, and then dropped it to the ground with a thud. Strangely, a loud boom of thunder hit at precisely the same time the orc’s staff touched the ground. Moments later, two great bolts of lightning shot out from the heavens to strike the vine grappled knights where they stood. Uglutz sneered as the smell of burnt manflesh filled the air. The first rays of the morning sun began to peer over the horizon, illuminating the glade. Uglutz crouched over the newly set flames of the campfire, and bit deep into the charred leg bone of the dead knight. Ripping a large piece of burnt flesh off in his mouth, Uglutz chuckled to himself, “Dis be bedur dan dat lil wabit. Dem tupid oomies shuld nub hab wayk me.” Stacking the remnants of the knights armor and weapons near the campfire, Uglutz put the remaining body parts of the men in his sack. Rubbing his full belly, he continued on the trail through Gre’goth pass, humming quietly to himself with content.
  15. 2007-03-11 06:28:26 Piper rolled over onto her back, staring up at the shadows on the wooden ceiling of her bedroom. Something had been bothering her since earlier that evening, so the luxury of sleep had not yet found her. She sighed, shifting to her right and sitting up in one fluid motion, resting her hands in her lap. She looked down at the green sandals on the floor in front of her and slid them onto each clawed foot in turn. The rat-girl stood with some effort, yawning sleepily before gazing out her window for a moment, watching the reflections of moonlight dance on the water outside. She smiled a bit at the sight, finding comfort in its serene beauty; but her awe soon faded, and the smile along with it, as she remembered why she had gotten up in the first place. She took a few steps toward the door, then cringed and flattened her ears as the floorboards squeaked beneath her. Not wanting to wake Thom, whose room was on the next floor down, she chose her steps carefully. She opened and closed the door so slowly that it felt like the process took an eternity, but at least it hadn't made any noise. Shuffling toward the garden, she parted the drape of vines hanging from the archway, and immediately a cold nose poked her in the forehead. Piper couldn't help grinning as she raised a hand to cover her face, shielding herself from a barrage of licks from her whining cu sidhe. "Aodhfin, shh!" she scolded quietly, stifling a laugh. She gently took hold of his muzzle and whispered, "Thom's trying to sleep, you know." Aodhfin's tail-wagging ceased and he grumbled a bit, turning in three circles before finally curling up in the garden's grass. Piper took a seat on the bench next to the disgruntled animal, trying to look very serious as she nodded to him. "Thank you, sir." His tail wagged a few times, though weakly; he must have been tired too, she judged. Piper shifted in her seat, wrapping her arms around herself as a light snow began to fall. "I'm afraid I can't sleep tonight either, boy," she confessed, extending a hand to scratch her pet's ears. She sighed and stared glassy-eyed as snowflakes lighted on the petals of some poppies before her. "It's just that... well..." She paused to blink. "I'm concerned about something... or rather, someone." The breath from her words turned to mist, rising skyward before fading away into the night. <hr> She recalled the events leading to her sleeplessness. Since Galehaven Tavern was still in ruins from the explosion, Bear opened the tavern in the bottom floor of his home so people could still come together over a few drinks. While Piper never drank anything stronger than water, she came with Thom; the ditzy barmaid Daniel'le was there as well, along with Bill and James. She and Thom announced to the room their intent to wed, and congratulations were spoken; though she was saddened to hear Bill wouldn't be attending. There were the typical teasing questions about when children would arrive, and Thom and Piper could only say there would be none. Bill's demeanor changed instantly as he said that was their choice. Piper was fully aware that he had to know just as well as they did that there was no choice in the matter. He seemed uncharacteristically distraught, but didn't want to speak to Piper about it. Still concerned, she reasoned that the tavern probably wasn't the best place for such a conversation anyway. Bill attempted to leave once, and Thom followed him upstairs. Several minutes passed and Piper grew curious as to where Thom had gone. After a brief search, she found him out front with Bill. From their expressions and behavior, it seemed the two had been involved in a serious discussion until she'd come upon them. Piper told Bill that since he left, Daniel'le had thrown a terrible crying fit, thinking she wasn't his favorite barmaid anymore. This convinced him to come back inside for a while longer, but he still wasn't acting like himself. When Bill announced he would be leaving for the night, Piper accompanied him outside. There was something she'd wanted to tell him, but she was far too shy to mention it in front of everyone else at the noisy tavern. She stood at the bottom of the stone steps and looked down at her feet sheepishly, barely summoning the nerves to speak. "Well, since I don't have anyone..." She hesitated for a moment. "Since I don't really have anyone, I... I was going to ask you to walk me down the aisle." Her eyes still focused on the ground before her, she continued, "I know you can't be there, but... but I wanted to tell you anyway." Only a few words were exchanged in the moments that followed, and feeling an air of awkward tension, she judged the time was as right as any. "Now, what were you upset about earlier?" She finally looked up as a somber Bill began to speak. The creak of the front doors took the two by surprise, and they turned to see Daniel'le approaching them with an ever-bright, childlike smile on her face. "Ready to sleep with me, Bill?" Daniel'le chirped, naive to the connotation of the phrase. Piper blinked, obviously taken aback by the question. Bill faced Daniel'le, who seemed to be waiting with the anticipation of a child whose parents are letting her have a slumber party. "Ye need ter choose yer words better, lass," he advised as he shook his head, unable to keep from smiling at the innocent girl. He had nowhere else to sleep, so Daniel'le offered him a bed in a room at the guild's museum. Since he had to leave with Daniel'le, Bill's previous conversation with Piper came to an early close. "Ask yer lad. 'E'll tell yer the rest." Piper nodded, and having nothing more to say, the three bade each other goodnight. <hr> Later the same night, Piper and Thom sat on the benches in their garden, where they'd often go to converse in their spare time. After chatting for a while, Piper looked over to Thom and asked, "What was wrong with Bill earlier? He was going to tell me, but Daniel'le came outside while we were talking, so he said to ask you." "Yes, I was going to mention that," Thom sighed. "He says he knows that even if we wanted to, we'll probably never have children of our own. But we have already discussed that, and it does not matter to me." She nodded as Thom continued, "He says he knows what he did was wrong." Her ears drooped a bit in defeat. "I told him I don't blame him..." Thom nodded. "I know. But he says he won't be coming to the wedding because he does not feel like he belongs there." "Why is that?" Piper frowned, recalling what she had told Bill earlier about her desires for the wedding. "He says that being there would only remind you of what happened, and that you should be happy..." <hr> Piper softly patted Aodhfin's head, looking up at the stars and exhaling deeply. Her ears and tail had grown cold in the snow, but she hardly noticed. "I wish I could convince him not to feel such unnecessary guilt over what happened. I understand why he did it, and I don't blame him at all. When it's a matter of life and death, sometimes people just... they just have to do what they feel is necessary. He's still alive, and I'm still alright, really... just different." She tilted her head down and to the right, her brow furrowing as she shut her eyes to hold back tears. Sniffling a bit, a forced smile crossed her lips as Aodhfin awoke and looked up at her, concern evident in his expressive blue eyes. "I don't know why I'm disclosing my problems to you, anyway. Even if you did understand, I doubt you'd be much help, you lazy dog." Aodhfin sat up on his haunches and huffed, sounding quite insulted as a cold vapor escaped his open maw. "I guess that means I've outworn my welcome, hm?" She stood slowly to pluck an apple from the nearby tree and tossed it to the animal, whose eager teeth easily caught the fruit in midair. He flopped back down to the ground and steadied the apple with his forepaws, happily devouring his favorite treat. Once Piper returned to her room, she kicked off her sandals and fell back onto the bed, pulling the sheets up over herself as the cold finally set in. She drifted to sleep within the span of a few minutes, but her rest was soon troubled with unpleasant dreams. She twitched in half-consciousness, recalling in an instant the one memory she retained from childhood - the one moment that changed her forever. There she was again, in the dungeon of Exodus, watching and listening helplessly as a mage uttered strange, unfamiliar words of power. The spell was cast and a bright light wove around her, and then there were several seemingly endless moments of excruciating pain as her body transformed. Then all she could remember was the powerful light and the horrified expression on the face of the caster. The man she saw looking on in terror was a more youthful Bill, and before her eyes, he aged considerably to the man she now recognized as her ale-loving friend. The words of power he recited changed to something else - changed to a confession he had once made to her. Guilt was the reason for his drinking - guilt over what was done to Piper and the others back in the depths of that dungeon. He couldn't forget the faces of the dead, and neither could he forgive himself for impacting this little girl's life in such a traumatic way. And Bill's words were true: not only did the the spell change her appearance, but the effects also rendered her sterile... Piper awoke with a start, a small yelp escaping her. She turned to find Aodhfin sitting up with his forepaws on the bed, nuzzling her clenched hand in an effort to quiet her. She rolled out of bed and knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Tears now flowed freely as the dream brought so many unpleasant feelings and memories back to the surface. She clung to her pet for some time, rocking back and forth in silence before the sudden outburst of emotion took its toll and exhaustion found her once more. Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, she pulled herself back into bed and Aodhfin lay beside her on the floor. She let her arm dangle over the edge of the bed to stroke his ears, and - calmed by her pet's presence - steadily drifted into a restless, dreamless sleep.
  16. 2006-02-20 22:28:46 Mare jade Sky was born in a small house South of the city of the Cove. Jade Mother die at her bith an being that she was a girl her father did not want her. So he left her wrap in a blank on the front door of a young widow mother of two, but little did Jade father know that the young women was a High Elf Mage(Pearl) who as cast out because she loved an marrid a Humman warlord of the tribe of the moon. As Mare grow in to a young she was trand in to the craft of a mage an lernd it very well, but one day as she was play with one of the widow childer Kat. When a necro mage cast a spell an all lost killed her an her friend. Kat was badly wond an screaming for her mother Pearl came runing out the Necor had walk throw a gate with Jade Many years later after Mare Jade was take Kat found her wonder around the with the skills of both a mage an necor, but something had chang with Jade. She didn't want to talk to anyone an still dose talk a lot, but can to this day see the pain an sadden in her eyes an Know one has figer out to help her. Maybe you can. Maybe you can't, but you all can try. I do wish to the best of luck trying
  17. 2006-01-04 12:24:02 Gabriel was born in a tower east of Skara Brae with his mother and father. Gabriel's parents were great bards. From birth he was raised around music until the age of 17. His parents were sailing on their way into Skara Brae. They were stopped and murdered by pirates. Gabriel never knew what had become of his parents for they never returned home nor did their boat. Gabriel became lonely in the empty tower and set forth into the woods. He began to make friends of animals and woodland life. He would play music for them and learn to protect himself. Gabriel group up in the woodlands until he was 63. He only knows his woodland life and swore to protect the forest at all costs.
  18. 2006-12-14 20:38:44 Daughter to unknown parents but found many years later to be an Azturanian child.Charlie was born in Skara Brae,alone through her childhood years and learning to fend for herself.One day while in Skara she found an absolutely beautiful sword,a katana,and she began to watch the traveling warriors ,practicing to become like them.She went out to travel the world slaying the monsters that plagued the innocents of Sosaria.She became a master of swords always carrying her katana by her side. Many phases of the moon pass and years go by she had married Kendarick and had a child with him by the name of KitnBoo, and Charlie at the time was part of a guild which she loved as her own family.Unfortunately times were very hard at that time and she sadly had to leave the guild who was part of her heart. As more time passes she meets Kodoz many times around Sosaria,at the time he was pretty much all that was left to PGoH and he constantly asked her to come back but her heart was broken,Kendarick which she had thought was killed in a battle long ago to avenge his family and she wasnt sure what she wanted to do.At the times of Kodoz' asking her to come back she was in her friends guild ,and as all know Charlie is loyal to everyone. She kept thinking of how she wasnt going to watch the guild so long known as PGoH die out.She sent a pigeon to the owner the Pater Imperium Borg and asked to give someone new the title of Emperor since Logan had left. So he decided to make Charlie and Kodoz Emperor and Empress. Kodoz and Charlie had long talks of history of the guild and in the cave of Frostflame,the most odd of all places, a love was formed with the two and they later became husband and wife and has so far had two children Galen and Karly of their own and adopted Robert Eboneye and Marina.
  19. 2004-01-13 15:30:39 Kodoz awoke with a start from his slumber. Something was terribly wrong. As he looked around he realized perhaps his journey had come to an end. He had waited at the Teleportation Dais for three days, muttering words of power and cursing the seemingly useless dais. But after he fell asleep on it, he awoke in a different place. He looked down at where he was, and saw a teleportation Dais, but it was obviously the one the first was linked with. With newfound determination, he stalked forward. As he walked further into the ancient castle, he neared a room from which he heard very faint sounds, sounds of battle, of everyday life, and of death. When he opened the door he did so with his kryss drawn and ready. Nothing could have prepared him. A single chair sat in the room. Laying around it were several shards, seemingly of crystal, that each had within them a duplicate but different world. He searched the area for any kind of Tome or ancient text that would explain these things and could not find one. As he searched the rest of the great castle, he found a reeking corpse at what appeared to be a spell room, and inspecting it he found what the cause of death was. A stab wound to the front of his body. After searching the area and finding nothing else he returned to the crystal room. He went to pick up one of the shards, and suddenly fell into a hole. Flailing and yelling, he fell and fell until finally he hit the ground. Hard. Then it all went black. As he came to he realized he was in a bed, and did not have his weapons or armor on. He rushed around looking for them, and found a single locked chest and tried to open it but to no avail. He heard a voice and whirled around to see the door open, and a young lass walking in the door. He knelt before her in respect, and asked her where this was. "You are on the outskirts of the town of Yew stranger." "No, what I meant is what is this place?" "Its a house silly" Kodoz sighed, and realized he probably wouldn't get any more information. She went on to say he had been unconscious for a full week, and Kodoz asked for his armor and weaponry. She unlocked the chest, and Kodoz armed himself. Suddenly, A Juka Lord and Two Juka Mages burst in, and the mages paralyzed Kodoz, while the Juka lord made off with the maiden, who was screaming for help. By the Time the paralyzation wore off, they had already disappeared through a gate, and Kodoz Leapt into the gate as it closed. Falling and tumbling out the other side of the gate, he materialized in the Middle of Yew, or as it seemed today, Juka Town. He could still hear the Lady screaming, although hed already lost sight of her. The Juka were stunned for about a second thinking what kind of suicidal fool would follow them to their base. In that second, Kodoz Hurled a dagger at two of them, catching each in the throat, and then stabbed a third before they all clambered on top of him. Even Though it was hopeless, Kodoz felt that he would at least make a good showing of himself. Bound and unarmed he was dragged into the former town hall, mumbling through his gag at the Juka all the way. He saw the maiden in the back, in a cell, reserved for Yew's criminals. Kodoz saw a bit of a twinkle in her eye, but didn't understand. She winked at him once, and he tried to ask her something, but was kicked in the ribs for his effort. The juka stood him up, and brought him before their leader. "What kind of Foolish Human art thou to follow us to our headquarters? Did you really think you had a chance? Or were you out to save my newest human toy?" With that he snapped his fingers and had the guards bring her out. The Juka walked up to her, and openhandedly slapped her. Kodoz Raged against his bonds and captors, furious at this unwarranted attack. "Ort Por Ylem" the maiden cried out, knocking aside Kodoz' captors and releasing him from his bonds. Kodoz grabbed one of the Jukan Staffs and beset upon the ones holding the maiden, and knocked one out before their leader gave him a kick in the left arm so strong it made it numb. Kodoz knew they had one chance. With his arm numbed, he swung full force at the other captors throat and with a gurgling scream the guard holding the maiden crumpled to the ground. "An Por" the maiden cried, locking the doors to the area. Now it was a Mage and a half able warrior against the Yew Jukan Leader. As Kodoz used his single good hand to stave off blow after blow the maiden continually fired off spells at the Jukan leader, and finally he fell. With a final spell she opened a gate back to her house, and Kodoz went through with her. When he asked her what her name was, she laughed and replied it was Lora DeBlood. She also said she was a tamer, not a mere mage, but didn't have time to retrieve her pets during that fight. Kodoz then went on his way, but that was not the last Lora had seen of Kodoz or that Kodoz would see of Lora.
  20. 2004-01-12 14:39:12 The cold of the night began creeping its way through my bones and joints as I continued to climb the mountainside. I stopped my ascend for a brief moment to catch my breath. I had begun the long climb up the mountain in the early morning hours, and now, it was well into the night. It took nearly every ounce of magic within myself to sustain my agility for the treacherous climb. Yet, even my magic did not seem to keep the need for sleep from my body. As I reached the summit, I collapsed in exhaustion. I remained on my back for several minutes, staring into the moon and questioning my journey. I had nearly attained the status of master of my art of magery. Master Kelegan had informed me that he could no longer teach me in the arcane arts, that I had already learned the depth of his magic. He told me that I would need to consult another master if I was to further my studies. I was nearly heartbroken, for I had spent most of my life with my master, and I considered him part of my family. It had been nearly a year since I had left my master in pursuit of a greater magic. I had had no luck so far. I had roamed the countryside as a vagabond for most of that time, going from city to city in search of one who would be able to instruct me further. I had nearly given up my quest for knowledge, when, in a dream, I had a vision of an enormous castle that sat upon a mountain in the middle of the ocean. Some strange power seemed to guide me to this mountain island as if a compass was embedded in my mind. The journey to the island was long and toilsome. I was forced to journey the rest of my travel alone in a small fishing boat, since none of the ship captains would venture further into the black sea. Regaining my breath, I stood up to gaze upon the tall marble structure that stood only a few hundred yards ahead of me. In all my travels, I have never seen such a magnificent castle. I gazed upon the castle in awe, wondering how many craftsmen it would take to create such a marvelous home. I began to walk towards the great marble doors of the castle. Stepping slowly, I reached the doors. As I reached my hand up to the door they swung open. It appeared someone was waiting for me. I stepped into the large foyer, and began to look around. Large black stone columns reached from the floor to the ceiling. The ceiling of the foyer was domed-shaped with a mural of dragons in flight painted on it. I walked past the foyer as the doors slammed shut behind me. As the doors closed, torches along the walls began to ignite, as if wishing to lead me down one of the castle's hallways. I began to follow the light of the igniting torches down the hallway. The torches continued to ignite leading me down different hallways and rooms within the castle. It seemed as if I had been walking for hours, walking down the winding corridors following the torches. Then, the torches stopped at a set of doors that must have been thirty feet tall. Once again, the doors swung open to allow my entrance. As I gazed inside the enormous room, I suddenly felt fear. Sitting atop a large pile of furs was an enormous black dragon! A few spells of protection began to stream into my mind as the deep blue eyes of the black beast looked upon me. The dragon lifted its mighty head and spoke. "I bid thee greetings Sir Mage, for I have been expecting thee. I have no doubt thy journey was a long and tiresome adventure. Please, come forward and rest thyself." The voice of the beast was warm and inviting, but I had never encountered a dragon before. I only knew of them from stories and fairy tales. Yet, from the stories I heard of the magnificent creatures, I knew they were devious and incarnatly evil. I continued to prepare a spell of protection from flame in my mind. "Thy magic would do little to protect thee Sir Mage, for if I hath wanted you dead, you would surely be in the abyss already. Now, come forward and sit." The dragon's calm and soothing voice soon quenched my fear, and I walked forward to sit in a large throne beside where the dragon perched. I felt extremely awkward in the black beast's presence, yet, in the back of my mind, I somehow knew this was right, as if I had always known this creature, and of my future. As I looked into the great black dragon's eyes, I couldn't help but think to myself that I was looking into a mirror. I sat in conversation with the dragon for some time, learning of its rich life and history. As the night turned into day and back into night, the dragon ceased its story telling and began to question me. "What do ye seek from me Sir Mage? I am no more than a frail dragon whose life is on its last stretch." I answered the question quickly, " I merely seek a teacher to further my studies in magic. I know not why I ended up here with you great dragon, but the stories I have heard of your kind leads me to think that there is no one with more knowledge in the arts as a dragon. I was led here by some force of which I do not know, but I am sure our meeting is nay a coincidence." The eyes of the dragon suddenly lit up at my comment. Its lips curled into a smile as it spoke. " Ye are correct Sir Mage, my kind is the greatest of the spell casters within the realm, and I better than most. Though I have not taken an apprentice in some time, I have never instructed a human before. Yet, such things are not unheard of. I will teach ye what I know Sir Mage, but for a price. I have all the worldly possessions one could hope for. I only ask of ye one favor, which I will ask of ye further in time. If you would agree to honor my future request, I will instruct thee." I pondered over the dragon's offer. What could the dragon want from me? My life? With its power, the dragon could easily do away with me. No, there is something else it wants. I stood up straight and looked upon the dragon. "On my honor dragon,it be a deal." And so began my studies with the great black dragon that's name I came to learn was Verrchang. For years, I studied with the dragon. Each day I was taught the ancient powers of his kind. I was also taught the magic of other races. The elves, gargoyles, orcs, druids, and many other races, some of which no longer walked the land. The dragon instructed me the use of storing a magical spell on an object, where its power could be called upon at a later time. The most frequently used objects were dead rats and lizards, even bats. During my eleventh year of living with the dragon, Verrchang came to me with a very solemn look one eve. In the form of a human, Verrchang entered my chambers within the castle. "Martok, my time on this realm is ending. I regret there is not more time. Please, come with me." I followed Verrchang through the corridors to the castle. We stopped at the courtyard in the center of the great castle. Verrchang looked up at the night stars as he returned to his normal form. " The gods gave my kind great power when we were created. Perhaps the greatest gift to us was the gift of knowing of when our time ends. I can feel eternal darkness creeping through my body. This is my last night in this realm. Our eleven years together is but only a few days in my lifespan, but it has been some of my most joyous years my friend. Now, I must ask of ye the request we had agreed to." I looked upon my master and friend with teary eyes. I had great respect and admiration for Verrchang. It pained me greatly to know he was dying. I wiped the tears from my eyes and nodded. " What is it you would ask of me friend?" "My kind is happy to return to the vast skies of the heavens when they die. I cannot help but think there is so much more for me here. I do not wish to die. I wish to live on, for many more years, and there is so much more for you to learn. Perhaps we can achieve both our ambitions?" Verrchang had a look of hope in his eyes as he spoke. As the seconds passed by, I could actually see my friend age in front of me. "How can this be done? Is it possible for you to cheat death?" I became curious at his words. Is such a notion possible? " Indeed it is. There is one spell I know of, the binding ritual. The binding merges two entities into one. Both entities cease to be as they were, but form something new. Both their power, their thoughts, and their very being merges into one. This is what I ask of ye my friend, to bind with me into one." Verrchang's skin began to lose its black shine. His eyes seemed to grow tired. I had to make a decision fast. I never would have imagined such a request when I made my deal with the dragon. Yet, I gave my word of honor. How could I refuse him? Yet, I did not want to lose myself. I did not want to become something else. Yet, the power would be immense. I reached a decision; I would merge with the dragon. Verrchang seemed to understand my thoughts. He lifted himself high and placed his enormous paw upon my shoulder. He began to speak the incantation to a spell. His words were in the tongue of his kind. Our bodies began to emanate a blue light. The light grew brighter until nothing else could be seen but light. I felt my body begin to unravel; yet there was no pain. As my thoughts began to grow to a halt, I heard Verrchang's voice, " Thank you." A swirling ball of blue light floated in the middle of the courtyard. Within the light swirled the image of a dragon, and the image of a man. Then the light exploded. A man was lying on the ground. I sat up, and looked down into a puddle of water. It was me, but yet it was not. It was the same human form, yet with different features. My skin turned a tad bit darker, almost as if it was the shadow of Verrchang‘s shimmering black scales. My eyes appeared to be a deep ocean blue color. And then came the voice in my head. The voice of Verrchang! "The binding is not yet complete, for our minds have not yet become one. My body was too frail and old to be reborn, but yours is yet young and full of life. Let us go to slumber. Whence we wake, we will truly be one." I walked back to my chambers to lie down for sleep. As I shut my eyes I began to regret my decision. The voice spoke, " Worry not my friend, for when we wake, your doubts will be gone. Now let us sleep." Within a few seconds, I was asleep. The dawns light crept its way upon the face of a man in his bed, waking him. The man stood up and walked to the window and peered out. A smile crossed the man's face. As he stretched his dark tinted muscled arms, he spoke in a deep, powerful voice. " And so begins my new life!"
  21. This is a very old story from when I played UO and joined the Shadowclan Orcs, probably 98 or 99. It's the basis for Grulg in all of his incarnations throughout the gaming world. It was playing that orc character that led to the Skullcrusher Orc Clan [Or(] in UO (a sub-guild of PGoH for roleplaying) and was a big part of why Skullcrusher Orc Clan came into being in WoW, now known as Clan Skullcrusher. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this small part of history. It took some searching for me to find it! -------------------------------------------------- The Story of Grulg'dush (by Grulg'dush) Nestled among the evergreen pines and blanketed by a fresh new layer of quiet white snow, a mountain cave sheltered a small family of orcs. The night was cold and moonless but the protective mother held her precious young son, Grulg'dush, close to her and the orcish child felt safe and warm. Just outside their cozy home however lurked a danger that was hell bent on destroying this loving family, the humans. The small child's father was a strong warrior and thus his instincts told him that something was wrong. The muscled male orc gripped his axe as he paced the cave’s mouth, his uneven breaths casting small clouds of vapor towards the sky. Slowly he would scan the trees that surrounded his home but his keen eyes only saw his own shadow cast by the flickering fire just inside the cavern. The dark night seemed calm but somehow he knew the serenity would soon be broken. Grulg'dush's mother turned his head away from his father with a gentle hand. Now he could not watch his beloved father pace like a caged animal ready to strike, he could not see him grip the shaft of his weapon nervously or hear the muttered curses that were lost in the night. Strangely enough the boy was not calmed, he too had a warrior's instinct and the presence of an enemy began to pull at the nape of his neck. He could feel his mother's strong heart as well, the quickening beat and staggered thumps and thuds, and he knew that she too could feel the oncoming assault. Then suddenly the snow was quiet no longer. A group of human raider's surged towards his father through the shadowed pines. Each swung wicked blades above their helmeted heads already dripping with the blood of the orcish people. Grulg'dush's father was ready for them however and within moments the largest human was skewed on his heavy axe. Unfortunately this small victory spoke only of the orc's demise. The gore that swam from the human's spilled belly played havoc with the orc's grip and soon the mighty axe fell beside the dead man’s body whose still warm blood already turned the soft new snow to a horrid picture of scarlet murder. When the next man came the orc was defenseless and the arm that he thrown up to shield himself was savagely taken from him as the raider's cruel sword flew towards his head. A cry of rage, a second strike and the unforgiving steel of a weapon brought the warrior down. His yellowed eyes rolled back into his skull and an ichor filled froth began to pour from his gapping mouth as the murderous human pulled his bloodstained blade from his quickly collapsing chest. His father was dead and Grulg'dush's mother was their next victim. She too fought valiantly but the overpowering force of numbers was too much. The men surrounded her and her precious son and soon one of them had her by the throat, slowly coaxing the life from her body as he pulled his knife across her neck. The small boy was forced to watch his mother die. In this moment he remembered his mother's strong beating heart and cursed it now for pulsing her blood out of her body. Mercifully he was struck in the head and lost consciousness before he could witness what the men did to his mother next. He awoke the next morning amid the still and ravaged bodies of his parents. A light fall of snow had begun to cover the gruesome scene but the terrible occurrence could never be erased from the young orc's mind. Quickly he went to his mother's side and was momentarily relieved to see that her chest still rose and fell. The excited young orc immediately started to tear his cloths to make bandages but his rapid movements disturbed the snow and uncovered his father's grand axe. For a moment he was forced to wonder how his father had died. Carefully he began to mend his mother's wounds. Although she was still alive she hung close to death and Grulg'dush, even at his young age, could tell she would not survive another night. In spite of his knowledge he still attempted to heal her. He would never leave her and somehow it seemed his mother knew this and so she left him. She went peacefully that night. Cold and alone the small orcish boy buried his parents. He drug their lifeless bodies to a solemn spot high above his humble cave home. At that spot he left his childhood behind as he held his father's axe high above his head and made a promise to average his parents' death. His life was ahead of him and let the humans beware because he was not going to let them go unpunished. With only his father's weapon as a companion the young orcish man set out to find his people. For years his mother had spoke of another tribe of orcs in a fairy tale but since the raiders killed his people this tale was the only thing he could hold onto. The tale told of his journey before him, of the mountains, deserts, and swamps that would serve as barriers on his journey. He knew the way would be hard but still he would go, still he would forge on, still he would survive. The way would be difficult for a caravan who knew where they were going. For a lone orc who knew little of his path and had only a axe and determination on his side, the way would be nigh on impossible. Imagine for a moment that it did happen, that a lone young orc did survive the impassable journey. Then imagine how much a long adventure could change an impressionable young orcish man and you'll know what it was like to see the lone Grulg'dush as he strode upon uncharacteristically long muscled legs towards the land of the Shadowclan orcs. It was not far from their camp when he heard the tell-tail voices of the wicked humans that he hated and feared so much. His mind reeled back to the night that his parents were murdered and he knew there was no other possible outcome. The humans had to die. He ran headlong into the human camp, battle ensued shortly after. There were four of them, a man and three women but to Grulg'dush that hardly mattered. All that he could think was that they would meet their end on the end of his axe, that his blade would be wetted with the blood of these horrid creatures, that it didn't matter if he did not survive the fight. Time passed so slowly and he could take the time to look deep into the human's eyes as he pulled the heavy axe through their frail bodies. He could smell the fear that permeated them and he could taste the rage that burned in his belly. They seemed to fall like feathers off a dieing bird. His axe pulled flesh off of them with every swing and sprayed it to the waiting ground below him. He reveled in the taste of the gore that spilt into his mouth as he pushed his weapon through one of the woman's stomach. He had tasted nothing sweeter than the flesh that fell from his face into his gaping gasping maw. His heart began to beat faster at the sight of the delicious flesh and he had to will himself not to stop fighting so that he could fill himself with more of the scarlet flesh. Grulg'dush had killed his second human when finally the male struck him hard and he was forced to take a moment to breathe. His breath came as an angered bellow however and it served only to task his lungs further. He had been through too much on his long journey and his body needed some kind of rest. His muscles screamed for air as he struggled to pull his axe around to the assaulting man. His eyes filled with pain as he saw the human pull his sword back to attack again. To him it was that fateful night all over again. He was too weary and he could feel it would not be long before he saw his parents again. He fought on. Again he bellowed but this time in pain as the man's blade, wickedly curved, cut a scarlet path across his chest. A visage of his family shot to his mind when he finally breathed again... he could see them, they were there with him, they were killing the human. Grulg'dush smiled as he saw an orcish weapon slam the human to the ground and his body somehow felt new and untaxed again. With his renewed strength he layed low the remaining woman but fell upon her chest with the weight of the swing. A day passed before he again could see the world in his view. Now he realized what had occurred the night before. It had been the Shadowclan, come to his aid after hearing his fervent cries of battle. They had saved him in his time of need. A new family arose about him... he would be Shadowclan for they had seen his prowess in battle and they had deemed him worthy.
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