The Great Prolog
Memorys of the Dark-Blood Cult: Part 1, Child of Human and Orc
Ximrana had not always been called "Tainted-Blood". One she had been called angel, or diven being. Her last namn had been Dreakmore. After her mother Lady Erina Dreakmore, her father had been a orc warlock. She did not remember it all but she had been told after her mother and all members of the Cult that had spwaned her and the other 12 children of half-orc blood had been killed.
What thos who enslaved her at the tender age of five was that her mother had been apart of a evil cult who worshiped demons. They had belived that she and her kin the half-orcs where a higher form of life. That the fusion of orc and man created the beast being one could imagine. But the same peolpe also repetedly teeled her that they where wrong! And that she sould be thankfull they where good peolpe whom did not kill her.
But as Ximrana now sleeped after finally becoming free. Free of Alterac where she had been a slave untill the City had fallen when she was at the age of 15 years. And then taken to Northshire Abby, where the monks made her "repent" her dark heritage. She had done that for 8 years and more. And now as she sleeped as a free women on the other side of the world among big blue beings whom spoke her toung whit a deep acsent she dreamt.
She dreamt about her mother holding her in her arms. She was young not older the maybe 4 years. Her mother smiled. Her mother the fine lady of Alterac, Lord Aiden Perenolde knew about the Cult. Infact he was one of it's leaders. He had, as he said, forseen that the Horde would win. For theres was a race far superior to humens. Thos this was the only way to avoid being annihilate.
Three of the cultist where standing in the center of the fine chamber chanting and making purpel lights come from there hands. Making a circil in the air that looked ilke a hole in space. It stinked, but Ximrana was still happy. Becorse this only meant one thing, her dady was coming to see her. And then a orc stepped out of the circil. But it was not her dady. It was the sceary orc. Non of the half-orc children knew him by namn but all the adults called him master.
"Ah, I tought only the familys where having there reunion master... I... " the one whom spoke was Lord Aiden Perenolde. He was speaking in the orcs toung, out of respect of the master.
"Oh, shut you mouth Aiden! I come here whenever I pleas! It also happens that the Warchieftan comands more information... He do not trust you as I do, my friend..." He spat the last word as if it made him sick to say. Lord Aiden Perenolde bowed his head and followed the sceary orc out. The sceary orc, or master. almost never looked on the children.
"Here he comes love..." whisperd mother in her ear. And there he came her dady. He was much older then her momy. And she had only seen him a few times before, this time he was whering only a pair of colth pants a belt whit a big burning blade in it. The other orcs sometimes called him the Blade of Hatred.
She ran to him and he welcamed her whit open arms. Most orc males whos half-orc children where girls would not so much as look on them. But not her dady, he huged her whit thos big strong arms and hoist her in to the air. Smiling all the time, he even kissed her. Something only the other orc females did to ther half-orc children. And she knew he loved her.
"How is my little earth spirit?" asked her father that was his nicknamn for her.
"Good dady... And dady guess what?"
"I missed you!"
"I missed you to..." after saying that he kissed her on the forhead. But the the deam turned from good to bad. The scaey orc came back followed by a shaken and swetting Lord Perenolde.
"I am sorry my orc-breatheren. But as you knew when coming here we could not stay as we use to. We are called to war, and most return to the Horde now." said the scary orc and walk to the three chanting men re-entering to hole and left.
"Your leaving so soon? Burg, my love?" Erina asked her father whit tears coming from her eyes.
"I am sorry to say yes... We march to war ones agen... And we most go... We may not see one another agen for a long time..." anserd Ximrana felt how her small hands griped her dady harder and harder.
"No! You can't go dady! Pleas!" she cryed tears poring out of her eyes.
"I am sorry but I most go..." he gave his child to her mother, kissed her and her mother one last time en left via the hole. That was the last time she saw her father.
The next image was even worse. She was in her mothers family manor, but there was fire every where. Peolpe where screaming her mother ones more had her in her arms. She was runing followed by three of the familys guards, there where fleaing the house via a secret tunnel, the entrens to it was however in the main hall. All other guards where dead. Killed by falling buring logs or arrows fired in to there house.
As they came in to the main hall something hit the bared front doors. The doors shoke and racked, almost throwing themself open. And then they where hit ones more, on the other side stode humen soldiers. The pair holding the battleram jumped to the side and the soldiers behide them fired there crossbows. It was only quick thinking on the guards part that saved Lady Erina Dreakmore an her child.
Crying Erina held out her daughter screaming:
"Here take her! Kill me! Rap me! Just don't hurt my child! I beg of you pleas!"
"Privet Wilkins take the littil moster!" comanded a man in armour that ones had been shining whit. On his tabard he had a whit hand on a blue background. As he had comaned a soldier grabed the half-orc holding her tight.
"Kneel heretic!" he said to the mother raising a massive two handed hammer. Lady Erina Dreakmore fell to her knees crying. "Any last words?"
Erina looked at her child and said: "I love you angel..."
As soon as she had said the word "angel" the hammer fell and crushed her skull. Ximrana got some of her mothers blood and brians on her face. The man whom comanded the gruop of soldiers wipe the blood, skull and brians of his weapon. "A heretic to the end... one most respect that devotion..." He mutterd.
"And the kid, Sir?" asked the soldier holding Ximrana who had stoped crying, It was not that she wasn't sad. But more that she was to crused to cry or do anything but look on the pool of blood that had been her mothers face,
"Comander Aedelas Blackmoore, has for some reson comanded that all half-orc abominations we find are to be left alive. I have no idea why... But I am not going to qvestion my orders..." anserd the man in blood staned whit armour.
At this note Ximrana cast herself out of sleep gasping. She had had that deam many times, and it always got worse. She cryed, it was the midel of the night and all around her was dark.
Memorys of the Dark-Blood Cult: Part 2, Father of the Half-breed
The elder orc walked through the ruins of Alterac. Ones this had been a great city of man. Ones it had been a place he could have called home. Here was where one of the things he so hard tryed to forget had happend.
It had al begone in the years after Blackhands death. The Shadow Council had been in a chaos. There leader Gul'dan had just regained his strength and was now trying to find away to get a holde of power ones agen. It was then that he came.
Lord Aiden Perenolde, he had heard of the Horde and had became convince that the Orc races would be the end of any who stode in there way. Thos he plande to kneel and live. Gul'dan saw this as a way of becoming powerfull ones agen.
For even tho the new Warchieften, Doomhammer, had let the old ways of shaman arts be used agen the spirtual leader of the Horde was still Gul'dan. Thos he funded a cult among the humens. The humens where teach the toung of the orcs as well as the ways of Warlock and Shaman magics.
The later the humens had the greatest problems whit lurning. The cult members came to include most of the nobels of Alterac as well as a great part of its peolpe. Even there suvren Aiden Perenolde came to belive. There belives where a mixur of the dark arts and the shaman ways.
And at the centur of it all was the holy blood of the orcs. Beliving that the orcs where a race of diven beings they bowed there heads and welcame any chans of mixing there blood whit that of the orcs.
The elder orc sighed at the memory. He had been a adult orc male whit out a mate. He had sworn never to take a new mate after the mother of his children. But he was but a male, and he had needs. The offer had been to tampting. He would be given a humen mate, had would father a childe.
He joined the ranks of the 13 orcs that had agreed to mate whit the humen cultists 6 of them where females the rest where males. All of them lojal to Gul'dan and the dark arts. Most of them where mostly curious on how it would be to mate whit a human. In many ways that was the cueas for Burgrsch as well.
The humen female he was given was Lady Erina Dreakmore. A young heiress owning a small pice of land in the mountens. Her family was rich and it was clear that only the privileged of Alterac that was given the right to mate whit the orcs. He was surprised by the level of respect he felt for her. She was a women who had not let herself be ruled by others in a mans world.
The first day they meet she showed him her lands and her home. And to the orcs even greater surprise she had not been whit any male befor him. She was a strong get gental female. She became whit childe after his second stay whit her. She later gave brith to a girl. A wonderful littil girl. Burgrsch had according to orc tradition namned her. She was to be called Ximrana, wich mean't "Love childe" in her fathers dilect.
Burg had been happy whit his humen mate and there daughter. Then came the war, now the elder regreted not feeling more sorrow for leaving her. But at the time he had been happy that he was going to battle ones agin. Whit in a year of the war the humens had fund out the traitors among them. And the City of Alterac had been burnt for the first time.
He had touth Xim dead. But for some reson she had been left alive. And now she had contacted him. Through the ways of the shaman arts. She lived, how he could not say. He was just happy that one of his children still lived. But mingeled whit that feeling was the feeling of shame. Shame for not looking for her, and shame for trying to forget his own childe and the women who had given her life.
Memorys of the Dark-Blood Cult: Part 3, Tratior of the Cult
Lester Dreakmore deamed about that night agen. The night when the Silverhand came whit the armys of the Alliance at there back. The night when the Crusaders of the "Holy" Light killed his sister and his aged father. Indeed amost all of the nobels of Alterac. The night that he, whit fear for his own life, had turned his back on all he belived in.
Befor that night he had had it all. He had been a inqvisitor for the Alterac church. Which was to say that he was a inqvisitor of the Argus Wake. He had aided in the revolt in Tyr's Hand, he had stood on a hill and talked to the peasants. Telling them that there masters where sending there son's in to a war that could not be won.
He had been the crule persecutior of all in Alterac that did not bow there heads to the Wake. He was so hard in his judgment's that his peers started to call him "Grimmthrone". For as he was seated on his inqvisitor he saw to it that many unbeliver meet there death.
But then came that night. That fateful night when everything changed forever.
The Alliance had layed sige to the city for two days. And then the gates had fallen just befor night fall. Then all had gone wrong, the guard had not had a chance agenst the Silverhand and the Alliance soldiers. The orcs had not come to save them much's to Laster disappointment.
There was every man for himself now. There was only one thing to do...
"My Lord! We most get you out of here... Why are you topeling the Idol of the master?" young Frenriks had worked as Lester Dreakmores guard capitan for years and could hardly belive that his master had just pussed the Idol of Gul'dan of his pedestal and was now beating it whit a hammer.
"Good your here! Quick cut down standars!" comaned Lester.
"But... Why my Lord? Will it not ofend our orc masters!?"
"Do you see them! Huh!?! Are they here to save us!?! NO!!" screamed Grimmthrone in anger, taking a dagger and ripping the Shadow Council standars to pices.
"But my Lord... We could sitll run and live to fight our foes later... Thats what the Master would want!"
"You fool! Run to where! No, all we can do is make the Silverhand think we never belived!"
"But my Lord... How could we... I mean..."
"if your not going to help me... You'll just be in the way..." Said Grimm and cut open Frenriks throat.
Only a few minuts later he was on his knees befor one of the Silverhand paladins. His manor ablaze, and all evidence of him following the Wake was destroy. Well all evidence exept that of the witness's that knew the thruth. But as Lester swore lojalty to the Holy Light joining the ranks of the Holy church of Lorderon. And so he had turned his back to it all, his family killed or enslaved but the Alliance. His homeland turned in to ruins.
And so he had lived a lie in all this years from that day.
Memorys of the Dark-Blood Cult: Part 4, The orc family united at last
Oga did not know what to think. To know that her grandfather had been whit a human women made her skin crawl. But the young half-orc only a few years younger then herself was not a evil being. as she sleeped in her hut she mutterd something about her mother. It seamed she was reliving a painfull memory. Her mother was long dead, killed by humens that had seen it as great evil to make a half-orc childe.
Oga wonderd what her gandfather had felt for her aunt's mother. Had he loved her like her grandmother? Or was it onlt lust that had lead him to her arms? Xím did not seam to think so in the least. According to her Burgrsch had loved her and her mother, but his love for them had not been as big as that love he had for the Horde. This where of corse humen thought's.
Even tho she was part orc, her mind was mostly human. Oga had long given up the path of the warrior for that of the master blacksmith. Now her aunt lived whit her as she walked the path of the shaman. Looking outside her hut she saw him coming. Her grandfather, dressed in black robes from head to foot. They made him look like a dark spirit walking towards her home.
"Is she here my grandchilde?" asked the elder warlock.
"Yes grandfather... She dreams of the night the humens killed her mother... Where where you when that happand?" asked Oga.
"I was fighting the war... The Horde did not hear of the end of Alterac ontill two days later." anserd Burgrsch whit a sigh of sorrow.
"Father?" mutterd a sleepy voice from whit in the hut.
"He is out here Xím..." said Oga and showed her grandfather in to her simpel home.
"Last I saw you Xím you still called me 'dady'" said Burg whit a smile.
Xímrana had just awoken and sat on the fur pelts that made up her bed. The hut was a humbel building made to surve as the home of one or two orcs.
"Last I saw you I was five..." said Xím whit a tired smile.
"Indeed..." said Burgrsch and removed his black warlock hood.
"But now we are together agen. Like a family, as we should be." said Oga.
"Aye, the last of the Blood Blade orcs..." said the elder orc and smiled, "girls there is something I feel I most tell you both. There is a dark power on the move, it will serve the Horde. It may even one day bring order and peace to this world. Maybe even annihilate the Burning Legion. But untill that happans you most know that it exists and that... I am apart of it..."
"What! Grandfather you made a vow to Thrall!" said Oga in fury.
"Glorys news father, I hope the Legion falls befor you!" said Xím and huged her father.
"Thank you child." Burgrsch to Xím an then turned to Oga: "I vowed that I would do all I can to protect the Horde agenst demons. And that is what I am doing."
"Why are you telling us this? To recrut us?" asked Oga whit a bitter tone in her voice.
"No, just so you know that I will be using my power to protect you both." said the old orc.
"Father, Oga pleas lets talk about something ells... I have so much to tell you father." said Xím whit a shy smile.
"Yes, lets leave to world of trobels and speak like family." said Burg whit a gentle tone of voice.
Memorys of the Dark-Blood Cult: Final part, The mother reborn Darkness.
All there was, was darkness. A deep, endless total darkness. There was no hope, no love or warmth in the dark void. Only a cold souless feeling of despair and pain. Erina Dreakmore had been in this place for how long? She could not say for the life of her. If she indeed still was alive.
Many things spoke for that she was indeed dead. In the back of her nearly closed off mind she could hear the chatterings of the demons. What they planed for her or if she was even of any consequence to them she could not say. But then something touch her being.
If she still had eyes they most have opend. And then there where small stars of light in the darkness. Whit out knowning how she knew they where eyes. Some of them where ice blue, others green like glow worms but most of them where red as blood. And all of them held a malicious light in them.
They seamed to ignore her, maybe becose they thougth that she was theres for all time. And would never be free of them. But as what ever it was that had touched grew stronger she deard to hope. And then sound returned to her whit a vangence. The chatter of the demons became knives on her naked spirit. Ripping and tearing at her whit great joy.
But above them there was another voice. A voice she knew, it was chanting a spell of some sort. The voice was that of the orc she had loved and had a half-breed offspring whit. It was the voice of her Burgrsch Demonvoice. A green light opened above her and she was pulled towards it.
The demons screamed in anger and her pain was double by ten times. But still her lovers voice was there. And then she enterd the light.
As she did a voice screming in fear and pain fell past her. What ever it had been it did not matter to Erina.
And then she felt a heart beat. Her heart, she was alive again. Opening her new eyes she saw her beloved. There years had been hard on him. In his face she saw many lines that had not been there last she saw him. And his eyes was not the eyes he ones had. They where a pair of blood red demon fires.
Next to him stod a undead that had once been her tratior of a brother. And in the shadows of the cave was a young female orc. No, the female was not totaly orc, she was a half-breed. A half-orc, it had to be her child. Xímrana, her baby had grown up. Crying she huged the young orc female as she did she noted there her own body was not that of a humen or orc.
The new body of Erina Dreakmore was that of a elf. And in the back of her mind she could still hear the screaming voice of the now dead elfs soul. She told the old warlock this and he told her that this was sadly the price for returning her to life in this manor. To that she said:
"In that case I'll use the restless spirit that hunt me. I will turn her in to my weapon and use her rage and pain. For I shall never beg as I did the day I died last!"
Breaking the Totems
On the run from the Law
"You are to bless the bones of this poor souls. Even thos marked "Heratic"... The Silver Hand was a bite over eger of daming this dead. They where after all following a King that had given himself to Gul'dan... But you would know all about that wouln't you brother Dreakmore" said the monk that had shown him the way down to the katakombs under the Cathedral.
"Yes... Yes I would brother... My sister was even forced to mate whit one of thos faul orc beings." Said Lester shaking his head.
"Oh, dear light... She wasn't namned Erina was she?" said the mock looking shaken.
"Indeed... She was killed... But at least I can bless her bone's so that she may join the Holy Light." said Lester whit a sad smile.
"Yes... Of corse... Well I'll leave you to your work then... Brother Dreakmore..." Said the monk and left him by himself.
Or so he thouth for the old monk had orders to stay and see if Lester Dreakmore really did what he was told to do. All of his family had followed the demonic cult called the Argus Wake. But when the Silverhand had come to his house they had fund all alters and idols broken and the priest Dreakmore had fallen to his knees and beged the paladins to spera him. He had insisted that he had never truly belived in the Argus Wake. But had that been the thruth?
The Archbishop feelt it had all been a lie. And now he hoped to find the prof he needed.
"The master is not going to like you calling him "Faul orc being"... Now is he?" catterd a voice that seam to come from nowhere.
"Come out where I can see you, Zeptip" hissed Lester and opend his mouth and a cloud of black smoke and gree flames came out of the man.
"So... Where is she? She is here right?" asked the imp.
"Yes... Tell your master that I'll have his beloved, my sister, taken to him soon." said the humen priest and broke open one of the coffin's and toke. He looked at the pale naked bones and bowed his head.
"Im sorry for not defending you sister... But don't worry, Master Demonvoice and I will return you to this world soon..." he whisperd to the bones and put them pice by pice in a black rune bag. The bag of a Necromancer.
He let the Imp enter him agen and left. But as he came out of the katakombs he was meat by two Paladin's of the Cathedral standing among them was Duthorian Rall looking down at Lester as if he had been a insekt that needed to be crushed.
"His Eminents is asleep Heratic Dreakmore. Your days of lieing and plotig are over! Give my your sisters bones and we'll..." here Duthorian was interupted by Lester kicking his right leg whit all his force making the mighty paladin lose his balance for a second. That was all it toke and the dark mystic ran out in to the night.
A few nights later
"Ye think he be tha one?" whisperd on of the two Moutiners to another as they sat at the inn in Kharanos. Pointing at a humen male siting not far from them.
"Eh? I donno... Let me see tha' poster agen..." Said the second one looking at the poster and then at the humen. "Hmm... Well, it could be him or not all humens look the same to me!"
"Aye, your right... Can we have some more malt over here?! We need some fire in our bellis when we go out agen! I frezing out there!" said the first Moutiner to the barmaid who got the pair more malt.
And the man they had been eyeing agreed. It was frezing, but not only outside but everywhere. And even so the only way for him to urn his keep was by doing tasks for the dwarfs, For some reson the littil breaded folk seamed obssesd whit hunting. Not that he minded that much, but the icy wind and wet snow he could do whit out.
But when one was ruing from the law... That would have to be seen as a minor inconvenient's. At least most dwarfs only gave him one glans and dismissted him as "Just another Humen". But soon someone would realize who he was and that he had a price on his head.
In the dead of night
The snow was frezning. On the other hand the snow made the night some what brigther. Holding a torch he found the spot. Here he was to meet his master, the orc who was the father of his niece. Standing there on the snow cowerd hill he could not help but wonder, was this the right thing?
Of corse he belived in the shadows and the holyness of the orcish bloodline's. But he had given so much for this. He was hunted and hated. He could never go back to Stormwind. He would be a exil for all times...
"There you are Grimm..." said a voice that sounded like a elder demon in eredun.
"Master Demonvoice!" said Lester in the same tongue and fell to his knee's in the snow.
"Do you have her bones?" said the elder orc warlock and heald out his hand.
"Yes... But master are you sure you can bring her back? I have risked all to get this bones"
"How dear you! She died for her belives! You bagged to be spared, you lied and betrayed the things you belived in! And now you dear to clame that you are a victim!?" roard the orc.
"N-no... of corse not... I-I just w-wanted to know if my work will bear fruit!" stuterd Lester in fear.
"Hmm... Well... She will riase agen... in time... I'll need many other magical items to restor her to life. Now hand over the bones!"
Lester Dreakmore toke out the black bag holding his sisters bones. Giving them to his orc master.
"Exelent..." said the elder orc, "Now return to the dwarfs. I'll send for you when I have a use for you..."
"As you comand..."
The veins of the univers
Chapter 1: A study in pain
It apperd that she was in blinding pain, the only way to easy her torment was to feed her fel energys. Whatever it was she sufferd from it was not natural, and it was not a pregnancy. Not in the seans of a mother given birth to a new lifeform.
Becose even tho Erina Dreakmore body was a living blood elfs body, her soul was still that of a dead and acursed human. And becose of it, she sould not be abel to become whit child. Yet she had becoma just that...
Her body had been twizted inways the old warlock had only belived possible in nigthmares. Her gut was enurmos even for a female whit child, her once full hair now hands in thin, fat, lifeless locks over her face. A faces that was now a mask of pain and rage, if she had been stronger Burgrsch belived she would have been a danger to him and the rest of the tribe.
As it was now, he could still keep her in his cave not far from Razzor Hill where the rest of his kin lived. The farm his grandchild was building would one day be there homestead. But ontill that day he would liv in this cave. He would study the suffering of his beloved, so that he might cure her...
Or if all ells failed, end her pain in this world.
Chapter 2: Odd Rambleings
The old warlock read the many words and phrases that his love had mutterd, screamed and whisperd whail he had been on bissnis in Northrend. His restless survent Grimthrone had wrigthen down all he had heard his sister say. The undead survent followed Burgrsch vill what ever it might be. And right now that was to record all that his beloved said.
The reson was mainly that even tho she seamed to be oblivius to her surroundings and herself, she spoke. But the words where not in common, orcish or even thalassian. Instead they where in diffrent forms of demonic, draconic and what the old one belived to be a from of elemintal. However the thing that made Burgrsch worrie the most was the fact that the words did not seam to be her own. Rather it seamed that it was another being using her to speak to some unknown listener.
As he studyed the texts the old warlock soon started to see some patterns. The first thing he noted was that one phrases, a titel by the look of it, was repeted again and again. The titel was: "The Face Eater", the whery words seamed to be made to place fear in the heart of any whom spoke or read them. And when speaking them to Haathum, his felguard, the demon flinch in what seamed to be fear.
When confronted by his master the demon only replayed: "You are misstaken lesser being! I am one of the Mo'arg! I fear noting!"
Giving up on the felguard. The old Warlock turned to his weakest slave. The imp Zeptip, whom tryed to run and hide at the mear mantion of this "Face Eater". When confronted the demon told his master that: "There are older and more sinister things in the Neathers then we demons... Things that was there long before you mortals even existed... Things that can steal all that you are, whear your soul as if it was a mask and used your powers as if they where there own... Things even the most damed fear..."
Whit that information the old one stad down to study the text more carefully. Hopefully he would find the reson why this thing, that even demons seamed to fear, was mantioned so often by the women he loved.
Chapter 3: Translation and Texts
Studying the words that his beloved had blaberd they made on seans. Tho most of them he could translat, it seamed that the words themselfs where scrambeled. Only the frase "the Face Eater" seamed to be in order. So the old one gave up his atempts to make seans of the words that had been spoken and started to look over the texts he had bougth.
Most of the texts turned out to be of littel or no use. Some dissmised the Face Eater as a demon myth, others clamed it was a form of demon itself, and some insisted that it was a agent of the Ligth. But the information was allways short and vage. Most of it seamed to been gartherd by torture demons or visions from the Nethers.
But two of the texts did aid Burgrsch. One was a study of ancient orcish runes that the Kirin Tor had found in Outland long ago. The other a copy of a note-book that had at some time been used by Helcular, a apprentice of Kel'Thuzad himself.
The study said that long ago the orcs shamans had fougth a being they called "The Spirit Twister". This made the old one feel a pinch of horror. Mostly becose the orcish word "Dae'mon" meant "Twisted Spirit". And he had like most of his kind asumed that the word had it's orgien in some unkown meeting betwen the ancient orcs and the demons of the nethers.
The study whent on to discribe how the shamans of old had imprison this dark being in the far north of Draenor. Accoring to the text the shamans had been forced to bind the monsters spirit to the mind of the grand elder of there ranks. And once the elder had taken the beast whit in himself his breathern had chained his body and soul onto the earth, deep inside a cave. And there they seald the two away, to struggel forever.
This made the old orc feel the horror spread. Becose who was to say this being, whom was also asined the namn: The Face Eater, had not been set free by the Legion? Or had escaped when Draenor shatterd, and the northlands where turned in to the Netherstorm.
The note-book also spoke about this being. But it whent into detail description of creatures that feed on souls, blood and life-force. The Face Eater was classed as a soul eater. It was a short note, but most informative. It described that the Face Eater could steal the minds and souls of it's victims, only the inner most core escaped. Once it had feed it could then used its victims soul as a mask, making it next to impossible to identify.
It could also use the memorys of its victims to creat the illusion of creaturs they had known. It only had one weakness accoring to the notes keeped by Helcular, and that was it's just for power. For even tho it was next to imortal in the nethers, on the mortal plan it's powers where whery small. And if bound to a mortal being it could be imprisoned, or enslaved. It's hunger for power therefor drove it to seak to controll mortals and have them do it's will. But more importantly bind mortals to it, making them in to half-gods under it's controll.
This made Burgsch wonder. Was the spirits of the Shadow Council of Old that had gave him visions realy the true Council? Or had it all been a trick played by this dark being? Had he been taken for a fool all this time? Had the Face Eater been toying whit his mind, and power? Testing how long it would be before it could take his body for it's own?
And then the old orc saw one last note on the mater. It said: "The Face Eater speaks whit three mouths at once. To understand it's words one most take all words of every toung and make them in to one line. Or all you will see is the rambelings of a madman"
Whit this in mind the warlock sorted all the words in Eredun and was rewarded by the following: "I am the carrier of the Face Eaters seed! Glory and power to mine greatness! A new age will soon dawn! My holy bloodline will rule for thousands of years! This world shall be mine!"
Then he did the same to all the words said in Abyssal: "The old one knows noting! Yet his seed will aid me in creating the king of kings! In my mask I shall grow, for power and greatness! All shall be my slaves! All shall love and fear the Face Eater!"
He Also did the same to the words spoken in Kalimag. But he did not know the toung of the elements. And could there for not tell what they meant. But three things was sure:
He had been played for a fool. The New Shadow Council had been this beings plot to become his master. And somehow creat a line of kings, that it planed to rule Azeroth whit. And the being he had belived to be Erina Dreakmore was not her. And finally, it was now clear to him that he would need to take his revange on this being.
He would find away to bind it to a mortal form. And make it into his slave!
Chapter 4: The womb of darkness
It had been a few days since a team of Mandrakes had retrived Erina Dreakmore for him. Her escape had vex him greatly as it had forced him to ask the Den for aid. The old orc did not know how many survents of Silvermoons mental hospital had been killed. And he did not whise to know, all he did know was that she had asked for him when she had been taken to the Den's laboratory.
At first Burgrsch had tryed to ignor her questions as he examend her. But the Face Eaters ilision was so powerfull that he could not bring himself to hear her beg him. For even tho he knew that Erina was not much more then a mask, he still had feelings for that mask.
There for he used a drug the Den had created to make targets unconscious. His examinations lead him to three conclusion's. And thy all made his skin crawl.
First: the child in Dreakmores womb was not orc nor elven. It was a physique manifestation of the Face Eaters mind. It was her earlier rambelings referd to as "the King of Kings". If let to live in freedom it would spread it's claws to all the places of the planet. Enslaving all in it's path.
Second: the beast was going to be born soon. It was not a metter of mouths as would have been normal. But a matter of days.
And finally: the beast was sucking the life force from it's mother. Giving birth might well kill her. And if it did not her power would be greatly redused for a long period of time. And it would take a enormous power source to chain the monstrum to this plan. In other words, the Den would need to find a relic or place of power to bind the Face Eater to there will. If they could not, they would have to kill it's mortal body and it's power would be lost to them.
Leaving the body in which he had belived to place the soul of his beloved the old orc glanced at the last translation of her rambbelings. They read: "Once I am born I shall eat the old one! He will be my crown, through him I shall rule! Earth, Storm and Fire they shall all be mine!"
Final Chapter: The beast in chains
The Face Eater had been bound. What sould have been it's mortal from had been ripped from Erinas body... Or rather the blood elven body that sould have been Erinas body. Now the old orc could hold the beast and it's prision in his hands. After casting a number of spells ment to harm his hated prisioner Burgrsch started to look for a way to make use of the Face Eater.
His first experiment was a test of the beasts mental powers. On the floor of his cavern laboratory he had created a demonic binding circil. And in it he had nailed a rabbit to the stone floor. Taking the circil of black chains that made up the Face Eaters prison from the tabel where he had cast his spells on it. The old orc put the chain around the neck of the rabbit.
The beast eat the poor tings soul like a starving wolf. When the rabbit was under his control the Face Eater tryed break free of the circil. Sending outs it's mental tenticals, tho the power the beast had even in this minor body astonished the old orc he was preperd. Using a druidic amulet made to shild it's holder from the influenses of the Nightmear, he cast the Face Eaters tenticals aside.
When the beast found no other minds to feed on it turned to bargain. Promising great power, glory and happyness. It even tryed to appeal to Burgrsch love for Erina Dreakmore. But the old one dismissed all of this things as the hollow lies they where!
As it realize that it's attemts on bribing it's jailor it made it's rabbit host chew on the legg the warlock had nailed to the floor. Burgrsch had knew it would come to this and there for cast a spell that whit easy killed the rabbit and burnt it's body to ash.
His prisoner screamed in anger in the mind of the old one. But this was but a minor annoyens. The warlock studyed the Face Eater and it's prison in to the night. And found that most of the powers of the beast held a great risk in it's use.
If the Den where to use it as a enslaver it would need to be keeped under watch every second of the day. Magical binding, wards and other security measures would have to be made. And if feed to many souls it's power might grow to strong and it would break free. Burgrsch feard it was to cuning for this use, it was simply to risky.
Using it as a power source post simulor problems. It might well send suggestions trougth the mental energys taken from it. This suggestions would then probely grow to become a part of the takers will. And whit time it might even spread it's influens and slowly eat the soul of the one that toke power from it. The Den would probely not even notice befor it was to late.
But then it came to him. The Face Eater had something that was power, but not something it could easyly use agaist it's keepers. The Face Eater had immense knowlage. It knew all things the souls it had eaten had known. And knowlage was power, a power to great to cast away.
Using a warlock relic of the old war made to speak to deamons in other planes of existans. It was mainly a kristal orb made from soulshards resting on a golden orc hand cowerd whit demonic runes. The old orc cast a transutation spell that changed the runes so that it would make it's user make the Face Eater to awnser any question asked. Placing the bindings around the orb used to see what ever being you wised to speak whit the old orc mutterd the trasmutation spell that made the Face Eater's faces show in the orb.
Whit the beast's mind forced to obey whomever put his, or her's, hand on the orb it cursed to old one. Ignoring the insults and slander the beast utherd Burgrsch placed his hand on the orb and asked: "Where are the seven blades of the Burning Blade?"
Chapter 1: The Heart of Darkness
Lord DeFace hade ended the Face Eater, or at least that was what Master Demonvoice hoped. At it's end the soul eating being had started to claw at the old warlocks mind. If it had not been for the Den's master and the warrior Bloodfang Burgrsch would have became it's slave for all time. Instead the old orc was free and ready to creat his most powerfull artifact of power yet.
As any son of the Blood Blade Clan he knew the power of blood. It was said the a beings spirit imprinted on it's blood. The blood was the essens of all things that lived, in it laid the power of the spirit and body. In other words if one was to drink the blood of a demon that demon would leave a part of himself in the one that drank. Thos Hellsream have freed the orcs by killing the demon.
But the trade did not only favor the one giving the blood. The power the drinker would gain was immense. And only a handfull of creaturs could rule there blood. Only two came to the old orcs mind, demons and dragons. And even then they could only rule to a small extenct. So all he needed was the blood of a powerfull being that was neither.
And thos he had seen to it that three Vrykul had been captured taken to the Den's laboratory. Two was males and one female, there blood was draind slowly from there bodys so that they would not die. The old orc planed to drain blood from them and mix it for a long time forward and thos had no intress in killing them.
Once he had a mixure of there blood he filterd it through the Heart of Gul'dan. The old orc recalled the day he and a few of his fellow Den members had taken it. Lord DeFace, Bloodfang, himself and Vancha had killed Cyrukh the Firelord at the Alter of Damnation and he had taken the heart. It's power was now his and inreturn for geting it for him the Den would be given the power of a blood elixer.
It was at last done and it was time to test it. The older turned to a pair of the Den's thralls. And orderd them to bring the labrats. They did as comanded and tossed a gnome at the feet of the old one. The littel pest begged for mercy, pleeding to be relessed. Burgrsch payed him no mind, and forced a poiton of the elixer in to the gnome.
At first noting happend. Then the gnome started to shake and grow. His eyes became the lifeless blue of a Scourge slave. As he grew his flesh turned gray and the smell of death started to flow from his mouth.
"Blast!" mutterd the old one and cast his most powerfull spells at the beast turing him in to ash.
"Shall we bring the other labrat master?" asked one of the thralls.
"No... The formula is incomplet... I need something more... The power is there but to taited by the Lich King..." said the old warlock but to himself more then to the thralls. "I have no use for you! Leave!"
As they did Master Burgrsch Demonvoice thougth to himself. What could I use to conter the power of death that the Lich King has placed in this beings. What has that much power over life?
Chapter 2: Mama Kaz'kah council
Days later far from the Den's laboratory a young half-orc shaman walked through the quagmire of Dustwallow Marsh. She had been walking for a long time, looking for a troll hut that was said could only be found by thos whom it's owner welcomed. Dusk layed heavy over the damp and dark marshes. Ximrana was about to give up her search when she saw it.
Hiden in the shadow of a great swamp tree a wooden troll hut stood. Around it a great number of dark totems where placed. Right next to the hut there was a small stone idol of a Loa. Haning from the hut where skulls of many beings, among them humen, troll and dragonspwan. Ximrana guessed that the skulls had belonged to unwelcomed visitors.
"Ye be stanin' there all nigh' or ye be comin' in mon?" said a voice that sounded so ancient that the half-orc half expected a ghost to meet her inside the hut. Instead there was a old troll female. She was dressed like a witch doctor but the walls where cowerd whit shamanic relics. The romurs where true after all.
"Are you Mama Kaz'kah?" Ximrara asked.
"Ye be meetin' many crazy old troll mama's, eh?" was Mama Kaz'kah's answer and looked up at the half-orc. One of her eyes where blind but it still seamed to look right in to her guest.
"Ye dady be a great best. He be in need of ye help tho... Why ye come here mon?"
"I have had odd visions... The masters in Ogrimmar can't understand them."
"Ha! Them 'masters' be dumb zelots! They think it not our place to mix mojo's! They say it sin to mix voodoo whit spirits! What they know! I be older and wiser then all of em. Ye tell mama what ye saw."
"I have seen... I have seen a orc warlock... He seamed happy about something... But he wanted something from me. It almost seamed like he wanted to mate whit me... I also saw my mother, but she is alive... My father brought her back..."
"Ye father did not know what he be bringin', but it not be her truely. Tha warlock be free of something, a spirit eatar. But he also be scared, he fear tha eater becoming back. So he want ye to protect him."
"How would I..."
"Mama show ye. But now I most tell ye this mon. Ye dady be doing whery risky voodoo, if he faile greatly it be bad. Bad for all he love. Ye most ask him send for a red dragon bone. Do this and I show you how to take up spirits in ye self and protect em."
"Wait... My mother is not alive... My father lied to me?" Ximrana was at the brink of tears. Mama Kaz'kah did not pay that much mind.
"Yea, he be bad orc. But if he faile we all be knee deep in raptor shit! Ye most help ye dady. Do this and I be helpin' you save ye mama, oke docky?"
"Yes... I'll help my father... But only for the knowlage you can give me."
Mama Kaz'kah grined and said: "Good mon... Now go, bring back dragon bones! I have great mojo to prepare."
Chapter 3: Bone Totems
Ximrana had resived the bones of a long dead red dragon in a letter from her father. In it he also told her that her mother had died once again. The young shaman did not fully trust her father. Could the old warlock had killed her mother? Or had whatever foul magic he had used to bring her back lead to her second death? Whit thos qvestions in her heart she traveled to Mama Kaz'kah's hut.
As she approach the old trolls home she found a trail of dark blood leading towards the Witch Docters hut. The trail seamed to start somewhere in the lands ruled by the black dragonspwan. And it ended at the old trolls hut, or rather out side of it. Where a dead dragonspwan female layed dead. Her body ripped and cut in to pices. The half-orc could only imagen what Mama Kaz'kah had done whit the dead creature.
"Ah... Ye be bringing tha bones?" asked the old troll as Ximrana enterd her hut. This time the hut was full of fumes from a giant cauldron in which something that looked like the blood, fleash and bones from the dead dragonspwan outside boiled.
"Qvestions later mon! Now give me tha bones!" Ximrana handed Mama Kaz'kah the five bones, or rather bone fragments as the bones where from a massive beast. The old troll held the bones like they where honourd relics of a time long lost. As she did she closed her eyes and mutterd in the toung of the trolls. The half-orc belived it was a prayer to a Loa and the spirits.
"This be good mon..." She said and pulled out a dark ritual dagger and handed both it and the bones to Ximrana. "Ye most cut the right runes in to 'em mon."
"But what are the right runes?"
"Tha dead will know... Here drinkin' this will let 'em join ye mind." as the old troll said that last she gave Ximrana a blow of what most have been the blood of the dead dragonspwan.
Ximrana hesitated to drink, after all blood had once doomed her kind. It could do so again. "Drink or cure ye mom for al time! Ye choice mon..."
The young shaman drank and as she did the trans fell over her. She had been in trans many times as a shaman, but not like thins. This time she did not enter the world of the elements but a world of shadows.
In this world all was gray and cowerd in black shadows. But from somewhere behind her came a bright light. No, not from behind her. It was her, she was the light. She was living in a world of death. Standing next to her was her mother, just as she rememberd her. And there was the dark orc warlock and a orc female. The orc female was her half-sister, she did not know how she knew but she did.
It was as if the dead spoke to her whit out words. And thos she felt there needs, there need to return in someway. Even if it only meant they would be her tools they had to return. The young shaman told them that she would grant there wish and bind there spirits to hers, but if she was to do that she would need there help.
She heald out the five bones and they understode. Her mother touch one of them and runes came in to being on it. The other two touched two of the bones and again runes made themselfs on it's surface. Then all of the three spirits touched the bone her mother had given runes and the world fell in on itself.
Ximrana woke whit a jerk and the world seamed to be spining. In her hands all of the bones where cowerd in runes. The old troll looked at them and noded. And then she smeared the dragonspwan potful on the bones.
"Ye did good mon... Thre' spirits, not many get so many first time." the old troll put four of the bone totems in a pail and the fifth she gave to Ximrana.
"Now it be time ye payed... Ye have to pay whit blood and pain... Ye ready mon?"
"Will my mother be whit me after I pay?"
"Yea mon... She be whit ye in spirit always... Ye ready?"
Then whit out warning the old troll leap on to the half-orc. Ripped open her cest armor and cut her whit a ritual dagger. Once she had cut a narrow opening in the screaming Ximrana she pulled the skin and fleash aside and pressed the fifth dragon bone in to the wound. Once in the troll layed the skin and flesh on the bone so that it was nearly cowerd. Then Mama Kaz'kah mutterd a shamanic healing prayer. The wound closed and Ximrana stoped screaming.
"They be wit ye now mon... Now and always!" said the old troll and handed the young shaman the four bone totems. "Give this to ye dady. He will figer 'em out, trust me."
A number of hours later when Ximrana had gone the old troll came out of her hut. She was naked and cowerd whit the dragonspwan potful. Outside her hut she fell to her knees befor something that to a untrained eye might look like a Loa. But it was something ells, something older and far more dark.
"It be done my master... It be done..."
Chapter 4: Harmony of Life and Death
In it's cage the rat Burgrsch had tested the North Blood Elixer on eat the nightsaber that the old orc had sent in to kill it. It was working, it realy was working. The side effects where not dire anymore.
After the Den's fall Burgrsch had almost belived his pet project lost forever. But luckely for him he had moved the three Vrykul to his more personal lab close to the Blood Blade Tribes Homestead. The thrio would die of corse as he did not have the equipment needed to keep them alive. Not that it would matter! There where more of there kind in Northrend, and in time he might even find away to creat the elixor whit out the use of there blood.
At first his creation had only been a poison. A poison that made the one whom drank it in to a enraged mutant undead. If said beasts had been under the Lich Kings controll was still a mysteri the old warlock. Mostly becose he had seen to it that all thos subjects where killed at once. But now, thanks to the aid of his duaghter, he had the weapon he wanted!
The heart of Gul'dan gave it power, the blood gave it the rage of the dead and the four totems made from red dragon bone gave it clearity of life! All elements worked as one to creat a harmoy, a harmoy of life and death. Armed whit this the Horde would at long last triumphant. He had tested it on himself once, his mind had becom clear. There had been no dubt, on guilt, on remors. There had only been what he intended to do and how he would do it.
There was however a few side effects. He had found himself draind once the elixer stoped working, feeling as if he had aged years in the handfull of houres that had past. And some of the rats he had given the elixor had acted... cocky. To cocky... They had mocked there foes, playing whit them rather then killing them and had died as a result. Others had gone mad or tryed to kill themselfs.
What the elixor needed was a field test.
Chapter 5: The Song of Blades and Blood
Burgrsch was lost to the red hot rage and joy of combat. The North Blood Elixer had given him a need to rend flesh and turn bone to ash! It was glorious to see the weak, pathetic and mindless slaves of the Lich King die in the hunderds around him and the small band of Northwind mercenary's.
Befor going to the ruins of Andorhal, the old warlock had almost turned on one of the Companys own members. A young blood elf priestess that seamed to belive she had the right to judge him! It had taken all his will power not to kill the pup called Azytha once the elixer had taken hold of him. But even then the power of the elixer made him feel like a god.
Now that power and the joy of leting his need to end life made his spirit fly. His fel magics had never been this strong. His aim had never been so perfect and his blood pumped in him as if every heartbeat would be the least. All that he was, was at that moment perfected. In the haze of bloodlust he noted that this feeling might well make addicts of thos whom felt it.
Not far from the old orc, the troll warrior Zinzairniax ripped the undead beasts apart whit both weapon, tusks and bare hands. Blood, guts and other slimy parts of the dead colored his body and weapon. He seamed to enjoy the act of killing as much as the old orc loved protecting his kin. Roaring like a wild animal he cast himself on to a abomination and split open the monsters head whit a singel blow.
Not far from the troll and orc holy fire fleard to life and turned the dead to ashes. Glowing whit a faint golden light Salice, drove the dead befor his mighty blade. In his mind the screaming and runing dead seamed to move as through mud. There actions where slowed and clumsy and thos attacking and destroying them in great numbers where no macth for the skilled paladin.
The elixer seamed to make all things go easyer, his armour felt as if it was made of cloth. The shilde seamed to bethere to block all attacks of it's own accord. And his blade, his blade had never danced whit such ease, leaving severd limbs in its path. And in his heart he could feel a great rage fuel his attacks.
Váncha had not taken any of the elixer. And thos he fougth like he always did. Whit out mercy, regret or consideration for his comrads. He had leaft his great battle ax in the outskirts of Andorhals ruins. Ergo he fought whit his bare hands when the Lich Kings slaves was not killed my his goul slave or his pluage magics. But he had just seen it, standing whit part of the ax-head buryed in the ground.
Ripping it from the earth the death knight could feel the runes apown it whisper as a lover to him. Whit it in his hands he rejoind the battel whit renews seal. The hate of his former master taking form in the death of this his mindless slaves. One day, he woved to himself, there master would teast his ax bite.
Demon fire, the holy light, pluage magics and the blades song mixed in to a song of combat and death! A song heard all over the ruins of the once mighty human town. But like all songs, even thos of blood and blades, most have a end. And so the four fighters leaft the blod corwed grounds. The test was over.
The elixer was successful. It would be a weapon the company could sell, and use themselfs. It would be a weapon of the Horde. Master Burgrsch Demonvoice was pleased, his hard work had payed of at last.
Chapter 6: Rage of the North
"Dish be ya newest broutha!"
The old orc could not help but smile at his new leaders words. It had been a long time seans he had been looked apown whit that sort of respect. He could hardly recall when he had resived this level of respect last.
The old orc saluted his fellow members of the Company. And exused himself, after all he had work to do. He had taken his most powerfull creation the North Blood Elixer whit him when leaving the Northwind. It was now time to sell it.
Sky-Reaver Krom Blackscar did not like dealing whit warlocks. But the orders in his hands where kristel clear, Overlord Hellscream comanded that the creation of this warlock be used no the Scourge.
In his other hand Blackscar held a small vail of "North Blood Elixer" the old orc had called it. According to the old one it would make any whom drank it become a raging killing machine that would not relent untill all foes befor him was dead. Now only one qvestion remaind, where... Where sould he unleas the destroctiv powers of the Elixer.
"Where would you strike old one?" Krom asked the aging warlock.
"The mindless undead are endless in number. Killing a milion of them would not harm the Lich King greatly... However... The Gigants of Ymirheim... There numbers are limeted, and it takes years to replace a dead Vrykul." resond Burgrsch.
"Aye! And you, and your fellows could kill of a number of Alliance dogs when your at it!" snarled Krom. "Good, speak to your masters warlock! We have a deal! Your elixer will be put to use in the war! And in return the Offensive will pay you a grand sume of gold..."
"As you comand Sky-Reaver..." the old warlock replayed bowing low.
As Burgrsch Demonvoice leaft, he could not help but drool over the potantial treasure of blood. Unkown to the Sky-Reaver the chief ingridient in the elixer was blood from the Vrykul. Now all that he needed was to get Zen'jan to agree to take the contract.
The old orc looked out on to Venture Bay. His meeting whit Niabi, the young druidess had been utherly disgusted by his dark magic's. It had awoken feelings of melancholy in Burgrsch. It was not that long ago that he had sworn never to use the fel arts again.
He had planed to wait for the sprits to return to him once more. But they had never come... In there stead the cursed Admiral Proudmoore had come. The old warlock had seen no other way to deffend his land and allies from the human invaders but to take up the dark arts once more.
And now... now it was far to let for him to turn back. Master Burgrsch Demonvoice knew that he was as bound to his demon slaves as they where to him. And one day they would take great pleasure in twisting his spirit in to something foul and evil. But ontill that day the old orc would do all he could to aid the Horde in it's struggels.
"Master... We sould return to the Hold." said the warlocks felguard.
"Yes... We still have work to do..." said the old orc.
"Ya be keepng dish ahway from dha Compahny! Undersude!"
The words of Zen'jan had cut deep. It was true, the elixir was dangerous. And it might well make addicts of over users, but the old orc had put so much in to this prodject. This would be a grand weapon of the Horde. Tho it in some ways could become a two edge sword.
A orc warrior had came looking for master Demonvoice. Offering willing test subjects, asking the elder to jet his anger and hate rule him. But Burgrsch remembered all to well thos sort of dark reasonings. For the great Master had also talked like that to his chosen.
The warlocks.... Following Gul'dan had cost Burgrsch his eyes, his eldest daughter, made his only son hate him and even the Horde itself had crumbled under his betrayal. The old one would not walk that path again! Never!
Yet.... to just cast it all a way? To give up this his last grand experiment... For it would be the last thing he created for anyone but himself.... That seamed like a wast... A meaningless wast...
At last things where in motion. The young druidess had agreed to aid the old orc in return for him trying to grant her total controll over her feral forms. It was no easy task, but Burgrsch was sure that his knowlage of magical energys and his understanding of the flow of magical power could help Naibi whit her problem.
As she hunted for volenters he hunted for a cure for the druidess. Reading texts on the matter and consulting the shamans of Orgrimmar the old one started to find some idea of how to do it.
It was clear that it would be best if they could enter the "Emeral Dream". That was another plan of existans. A plan of the mind, a place of dreams... and perhaps nightmears? And to do that they needed to find a barrow den that was not corrupted.
Also Burgrsch belived that the bone of a green dragon, the dragon kind most attunde to the druids, would help. He knew that his duagther Xímrana could make a dragon bone totem out of the bone if she was asked.
If all ells failed the purifing powers of a moon well and the power of the green dragons had to help...
But in the mean time Burgrsch ment to study the problem intently. And make sure that his project was completed in full!
Anyel was standing on the highest edge of Demon Fall Canyon. Dead demons were lying around him, their blood covering the dark grey ground, but killing them had done nothing to ease his mind. He could feel her presence, like an iron nail hammered into his temple. She had moved back to her old place in Stonetalon. Not too close, but close enough. The pain fueled the feeling of guilt, regret and anger. He had lived his whole life in the illusion that he wasn't in control. She had made it clear that wasn't the truth. All the choices he had ever made were his own. Katoka had said she knew this already. She didn't understand. He had noone but himself to blame. His mother hadn't screwed up his life, he had made that on his own. He was responsible.
Despite his increasing heart rate and the wave of nausea he looked down at the canyon bottom. He wondered if he would dare to take the jump. And if he did, would he chicken out in the last second, shielding himself with the Light? He didn't really want to find out the answer of any of it, but the urge was there, deep inside. He took a deep breath and turned around, making his way down the path again. He needed to get away from here, away from her. Burgrsch's letter had arrived at the right moment. He didn't know if Zenjan had anything to do with the mission, and he wasn't going to ask. He couldn't stay here. Besides, why would Niabi and Burgrsch go against Zenjan's will...?
The thought of Burgrsch's elixir also had moved into his head again. Daechir had said that time in Borean Tundra that everyone would loose respect for him if he tryed it out. Well, if they found out what he had done to his family and what he made Mori do they would loose whatever respect they had anyway. To get rid of all feelings. That would be something to top the bloodthistle with... He went out in the forests of Ashenvale, briefly hoping that that ally death knight would appear again. If he couldn't beat her this time, well, then he wouldn't give up until she finished him off.
Blood cowered the frozen ground of the city of Ymirheim. The group of Horde warriors ripping there way through the Vrykul ranks did not tire or stop. The old orc Burgrsch lead the way, drunk on the effects of his elixir.
His heart was singing whit the joy of having his magics, blade and even bear hands and teeth ripping the life from his enemies. Non could stand in his way, he was a living god. A god of death that had come to cast the Vrykul in to the darkness.
There "King" could not save them now! There "God" was a false one, and soon they would see that and despair!
Next to him Anyel moved like a pure force of destruction. There was no joy in his face, he did not scream his hate and ecstasy. He only did what the elixir told him to do. End the life's of his enemies, and in return it offered a form of bliss.
It toke all of his pain and locked it away. It only left a void, a hollow emptiness where all his pain was weakened ontill it seamed to have never existed.
Fitshace had also taken the elixirand the blood lust had taken him. A dark and simple feeling of a need to end life. It filled him whit a grim joy to see the powers of his attacks grow and the screams of horror that rose from the Vrykul. It was magnificent and soon the Alliance would know this horror as well.
Niabi looked on in disgust as her fellow warriors used there blades, magics and even there body's and teeth to kill whit out end. The enemy corpse's lied in pile's all over the city. And the old orc and the others did not slow. She cast a look over at Taumakk and even tho they where both in feral from there was something more the anmilistic fear in there eyes...
There was a deep concern for thos whom had taken the elixir. When would it's effects burn out?
Zinzairniax did battle side by saide whit the others. He did not cear about the elixir. He had tryed it once, it have not effected him much. Now he wondered why... He was a berserker and fought whit a great blood lust ruing through his veins by nature. But now even to old one, old and magic user tho he was, fought as much whit his blade and teeth was whit his spells.
The troll warrior shrugged the questions away and when on to kill the last standing Vrykul whit a single thrust of his speared. As the giant being fell to the ground the old orc looked around.
Then he saw it... Down a snow cowered trail it lied. The Alliance camp. The old one just pointed at it... The others grinned and they started down the mountain.
Soon there after screams of horror came from the Alliance camp...
The Warsong Offensives Head Alchemist inspected the box full of vials. He counted there numbers, uncorked one of then and smelt the content.
So this was it, the elixir that had caused the blood bath at Ymirheim. According to the reportseven the alliance base camp had been raided. Who the warriors who had done it was unknown to him. Nor did he care. The weapon had been delivered but not in the quantity he had expected.
He turned to face that black clothed orc. It was older then most orcs the forsaken Alchemist knew. But that was not of great consequence.
"Is this all there is? There's just under a 1000 does here!"
"Indeed... But that will be enough for the Offensive to win the war." was the answer the old orc offered.
"Hmm... If half of the report is true your right... any chans of you making more?"
"No! And make sure no warrior gets more then three doses!"
"That addictive huh? Don't worry, this will be our little ace when facing the Lich King and the human scum."
"Good..." the old orc turned to leave.
As the orc walked away the forsaken called after him: "Your gold will be delivered soon!"
But Burgrsch had no interest in that gold anymore. The only thing that mattered now was the fact that it was over. His creation would be used in the aid of the Hordes interests. Now he had a debt to repay.
They meet in one of the many druid Den's of the Moonglade.
The healing ritual went more or less like the old orc had expected. The young shaman gave him more then a bite of grief because he was a warlock. But Burgrsch was fairly use to that sort of treatment.
Hanouff was of great help in keeping order seeing as the paladin Anyel had come for some other reason then aiding in the ritual. Maybe he had come to be close to Katoka, the old one though.
Of coarse the idea of a elf and a orc sickened him. But on the other hand he had once loved a human female, so who was he to judge.
First Niabi was asked to chose one of the four dragon bone totems. She choose the cat totem, which was not much of a surprise. The young shaman then infused it whit the power of the spirit of the earth.
Then the paladin blessed it whit his power of the holy light. And lastly the druidess channeled the essensof her cat from in to the totem. When that was done only one thing remained.
It was not something that Burgrsch toke pleasure in, even tho Katoka seamed to think so. They had to put the totem in to Niabi's flesh, the paladin agreed to heal the wound. Even tho, it was clear that the holy light did not flow easily through him.
Hanouff held the druidess, the old one cut open her chest and pused in the totem. When the totem was in place Anyel healed to wound over the totem. The ritual had worked it seamed, and at last the old one could put it all behind him...
Or so he believed... For after the ritual was done the paladin screamed after him, as he was about to leave the Moonglade Den, that he needed the elixir. But that was something the old one would not give him, nor any whom believed they needed it.
The Old Orc
The fire was burning high. The old orc looked on as his minions trowed the last of his notes on to it. Now non could copy his work. His last dark creation would never be apart of his life again.
As he was done whit it all he saw to it that his lab was utterly destroyed. His powers over demons fire and slaves ripping it down. Smoke raised from the opening of the cavern near his tribes homestead.
As he left he was meet by them. His daughter Xímrana, his grand daughter Oga and her mate and there children. The worry clear on there face's.
"Elder, what happened, we saw the smoke and..." Gruark began. But Burgrsch silence him whit a raised hand.
"There is noting to worry about grand daughters mate. Things are as they should be now..." the old one removed his black mask and looked on his great grand children and had to smile. "Who wants to go fishing whit there aging great grandfather?"
Anyel remembered how it felt having the elixir running through his veins. The cold focus and the mindless rage, all at once, the adrenaline rush, the absent pain from the poisoned spears the vrykuls were throwing at them, as well as the pain from the Light flooding through him, fighting the poison and the wounds... It was an intoxicating sensation and in all the emptiness, he had felt at ease. Not happy, not satisfyed, but at ease. Whatever issues his heart had with reality, they were pushed aside, and he knew from first drop that he wanted more, he wanted to use it again.
When the effect wore off, the pain changed and his mind went numb, dull. Still, it was better than that black hole of despair that was eating his soul. He wanted more. And Burgrsch said no.
And in all honesty, he knew he couldn't live a life on drugs. But the alternative was... too painful.
The others knew something wasn't right and made their own kind of efforts to cheer him up. But he couldn't make himself believe in their words, couldn't explain the feeling of lost control to them. It had always been his own choices, but apparently he didn't know how to choose to do the right thing, and that scared him. He didn't trust himself anymore, didn't know who he was, where to turn. He didn't want to live this life any more. He felt sorry for Katoka. She didn't deserve all this. And he felt like he was betraying Zenjan and the others. But he couldn't move on. He'd lost the will.
The brown-furred tauren was leaning against a tree, taking her surroundings in while grimacing slightly – all these years and she was still disgusted by places like this. Foul trees dotted the landscape, their torn roots oozing some kind of Fel-infused liquid, not quite unlike the water that streamed past the camp. The horrible, omnipresent smell of rot, decay and corruption had her put her hand over her muzzle as she looked around. It was a strange sensation; to experience all these unnatural horrors without even responding properly. Alas, that was the way it felt to the druid, who'd nearly always been depending on entirely instinctual reactions. However, the soothing magic originating from the totem embedded in her chest, seemed to calm her instincts down to a point where she only felt faintly distressed in these woods. The tauren was sure the warlock's magic had worked. If it had not been for the elaborately carved dragon bone, she would probably have abandoned the camp long ago. It was like a second heartbeat, the totem sending a wave of tranquil magic into her body with every throb. Where she had had to pressure herself at times to not give in to the primal urges caused by her instincts, they simply seemed to have become far much controllable.
She wasn't used to it at all. While it was certainly a relief, she now actually had to consider her next course of action, while usually, it would simply have happened. She would simply have done something without even thinking about it. But she had needed to stop trusting her instincts. They were irrational. Sometimes, they were wrong. Caused her to attack things she should not have. Because after all, beasts trust no one but their own kind. And the druid had abandoned hers long ago.
My thanks to Anyel of the Froststeel Company for wrihting part 6 of Rage of the North and The Elf of the Epilog.
I also thank Niabi of the Froststeel Company for wrihting The Druidess of the Epilog.
The Great Epilogue