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 Destiny of the Bloodfiend

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Ghelgor
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Posts : 23
Join date : 2010-03-01
Age : 31
Location : Sweden

PostSubject: Destiny of the Bloodfiend   Mon Mar 22, 2010 8:28 pm

This is the first part in what I plan to be a series of stories that tell of Ghelgor's life between the internment camps and recent times, hopefully it'll make a good read! Smile

Part One: The Journey Begins

The way out of lethargy is a difficult one, and not something magically achieved by the arrival of a timely hero. The New Horde was nothing but a collection of pathetic excuses for orcs. Ghelgor counted himself among these excuses, he had failed so many times yet here he was, on a ship sailing west towards who knew what. He was no stranger to the sea, but this was not a gentle one. It seemed to possess a mind of its own, waves crashing into the small armada of stolen human ships like weapons. It was clear the sea didn't want them there, but still they sailed on, they weren't more unwanted here than they'd been in the east. So what did the will of the sea matter. Nothing but a nuisance to Ghelgor, as yet another spray of water hit his face, the taste of salt a bitter wake up call from his daydreaming. He grunted at the sea in general before leaving his posting at the fore of the ship, heading down into its belly.

The main room was filled with orcs, packaged for the journey, they huddled together in groups as much as was possible in the small space. This was the New Horde, but the factions were clear. Most were clan-based, a few others were based around bonds of other natures, family, friendship and what else they could come up with. Orcs were not a solitary race, they needed to belong. And so did Ghelgor, but there was no group in this room for him. He walked the maze of orcs until he reached the corner he had taken as his turf, sitting down heavily. Ignoring the rest of the room to the best of his ability, he set about cleaning his new suit of armour, given to him by the blacksmiths of the New Horde. Maybe they thought a new outer shell would contain the inner weakness and speed the recovery process. Ghelgor didn't care, he needed armour to fight so he took it. But this armour, and the axe also given to him, meant nothing to him. They were tools. To fight, in the way he was taught as a boy, tools just didn't cut it. The armour needed to be like a second skin, the weapon like an extension of the arm. It's easy to rip off a piece of clothing or disarm someone, it's a whole different thing to flay someone or chop their arm off.

As he cleaned his armour and mourned the loss of his previous skin and arm, his thoughts drifted to his self-imposed solitude. He could have been with his family right now, but he had chosen not to. As the horde gathered by the ships, he had seen his brother and father for the first time since they'd left the clan and Ghelgor had disowned them. He saw them see him, acknowledge him as a brother, as a son, but in his pride he had looked away and deliberately chosen a different ship than them. He knew he'd have to come to terms with his family eventually, one way or another, but it could wait until they arrived wherever it was they were going. If they even made it there.

A sharp kick in the side stopped Ghelgor in his drone-like cleaning, he grunted and looked up at the figure of a female orc standing over him. She was only slightly shorter than him, and with a build that showed she was at least equal in strength. Ghelgor let out a low growl and frowned.

"What was that good for?"

The female smirked and shrugged, her long brown hair draping her chest and back in several braids.

"The armour is clean. You can stop now."

Ghelgor snorted and casually shoved the suit of armour to the side, turning his attention to a piece of dried meat he'd been saving. The female sat down next to him, leaning her head against the wall. Ghelgor wanted to tell her to go find her own spot, but his pride was overcome by his loneliness and he quietly continued eating his meat. He glanced at the female, she seemed to be asleep but her eyes were open. He noted her attractive features, the nose in particular, it had been broken at some point, yet healed in a way that made it look like an improvement. And to Ghelgor it was a sign that this female was a fighter. The breasts weren't bad either.

"Did you want something?"

Startled, Ghelgor returned to chewing on the dried meat with a vengeance. The female laughed, a deep sound that didn't seem like something that would come out of that body. She turned her head to look at him, not letting him escape the situation.

"Well?"

Ghelgor sighed and looked at her, he wasn't sure what to make of her but she was his first real social interaction since before the internment camps, he should make the most of it.

"Just wondering who you are, and why you sat down here."

"Call me Neda. And this is as good a place as any to sit down. You must agree, you're sitting here too."

Ghelgor shrugged, talking had never been one of his strong points. If this Neda wanted to sit there, who was he to say no, this wasn't his ship. And he could think of worse neighbours on the trip.

"I'm Ghelgor, son of Gandrak."

Neda nodded.

"You're Bloodfiend's son."

"You know my father?"

Ghelgor frowned, he wasn't sure what answer he wanted. He could get news of his father if she knew him, but then again she might have been sent to spy on him on his father's behalf.

"I do, I am of the Frostwolf clan. Your father and brother came to us some time ago. They had left their own clan."

"I know that all too well..."

Neither one of them said anything for a long time, Ghelgor was mulling over the events that tore him from his family. Who knew what Neda was thinking, she once again looked like she was sleeping with her eyes open. Finally, she decided to break the silence.

"They miss you."

"Then they shouldn't have left."

"I'm not speaking for your family, simply informing you of my own observations."

Ghelgor wasn't ready for this yet. When the time came he'd deal with this, but not yet. And he was in no mood to discuss family matters with a stranger.

"I don't know you enough to discuss these things even if I wanted to discuss them."

Neda smiled enigmatically, like only females can, and nodded. Ghelgor noticed that her eyes seemed to look through him somehow. He felt uncomfortable and vulnerable, like she was stripping away both his outer and inner defences. Perhaps she noticed his feelings, turning away from him and staring at nothing in particular. He welcomed the reprieve, settling down to get some rest. He'd had all the social interaction he could stomach for this day. The waves continued their assault on the ship, but Ghelgor had gotten used to it well enough to sleep. Before he fell asleep, he could feel Neda's piercing eyes on him.
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Ghelgor
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PostSubject: Re: Destiny of the Bloodfiend   Fri Mar 26, 2010 10:45 pm

Part Two: The Darkspear Islands

The days passed slowly on the ship, the only event worthy of notice was if a larger than normal wave hit them. The conditions for the seafaring orcs deteriorated at an alarming rate, despite rigid schedules for food and water. Still, no one complained. Maybe they were all still too lethargic to care. Ghelgor chewed his ration very slowly, savouring the minute trace of taste from the dried meat, he wouldn't get more in quite a while. Neda ate with him, as she had since they met. It wasn't clear to him why this strange female had taken such a liking to him, but he was quickly growing accustomed to her company. He tried not to get too comfortable though, she might still have ulterior motives regarding his family. He didn't like the idea of outsiders getting involved. She'd spoken of them a few times, what they'd been doing and saying, how they'd been accepted into the Frostwolf clan. He wasn't sure what to think of it all, to him they were traitors and deserters, but then again so were the Frostwolf clan as a whole. That was the past though, the past of a Horde that no longer existed, none of it mattered any more. Everyone was on equal footing, given a new start. So why couldn't he give his family that?

"Brooding again?"

Ghelgor looked at Neda and snorted, she was smiling. She of course hadn't experienced the lethargy, for better or worse. It was refreshing though, an upbeat island in a sea of apathy.

"Perhaps. Not much else to do around here."

As in defiance to his statement, the alarm sounded, land had been sighted. The orcs in the room rose to their feet in unison and tried to the best of their ability to push their way outside. As Ghelgor reached the deck, the fresh air felt strange compared to the musky stench of the hold, but the sight of an island chain soon numbed his other senses. Finally, something was going to happen. His ship didn't have the honour of making first landfall, that right was the Warchief's, but when he set foot on the wet soil, all the waiting seemed worth it. Was this their new home? If so, they'd be hard-pressed for living space. It was an exotic place with thick vegetation and tall palm trees, the sun baked the beach with a relentless heat and in the distance he could see a volcano. He noticed Neda running up to him, clad in her weathered leather armour, clearly agitated.

"Ghelgor! Thrall's been abducted!"

"What? What happened?"

Neda growled, a low rumble shaking her earlier optimism.

"Murlocs... Murlocs! Of all things... They swarmed his escorts and dragged them all off into the jungle. I followed them but I couldn't find a trace of them. There's something sinister helping them."

"Someone's organising a search and rescue as we speak?"

"Yes, they're coordinating their efforts with the trolls. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, there are trolls here. Not forest trolls though. Their leader was taken as well."

Ghelgor rubbed his chin, this was a lot to take in. Thrall abducted, trolls working with the Horde again, he knew this island had been too good to be true. The pair turned their eyes inland as the sounds of battle were carried to them. Ghelgor loosened the straps on the axe on his back, setting off in the direction of the battle. Neda was quick to follow, and quicker in running past him in her light armour, her braids flowing behind her like a mane. Out of habit, Ghelgor sought the strength of Mannoroth for the coming battle, but found a now familiar void instead. Shaking off the worst of the following apathy, he focused on Neda, making sure to keep up.

The battle was not going well, their adversaries may have only been puny murlocs but they fought as though fearing their master's whip. No one fled or faltered, a battle frenzy most commendable for their kind. Neda stopped and pulled out what seemed to be a gauntlet with steel claws attached to it, slipping it onto her right hand. She rolled her shoulders back and roared, her muscles rippling as she charged into battle. At that moment she was the most beautiful thing Ghelgor had ever seen, poetry in motion. He cursed his wandering mind as he barely managed to deflect a murloc blade aiming for his throat. The gurgling beast recovered with amazing speed and leapt at him, only to be struck down in mid-air by a lightning strike. Ghelgor looked around, trying to find the source, and saw Neda turning away from him and charging another murloc. Couldn't have been her though...

The trolls looked different than the ones he'd fought side by side with previously, but they fought with the same primal fury and prowess. With their help, the tide of the battle started to turn as more and more reinforcements from the beach arrived. Ghelgor roared as he swung his axe, severing a squishy head from its murloc body, sending it flying triumphantly into the air. He lived for these moments. High on adrenaline, he spun around, searching for another target. With great effort, he tossed his large axe in the direction of an unsuspecting murloc. The murloc gurgled and collapsed with Ghelgor's axe lodged in its back. He felt something wet hit his own back and stumbled forwards, grabbing at whatever was back there. Managing to get a hold of a slippery leg, he yanked the murloc off his back, flung it on the ground and crushed its head with his boot. Ghelgor looked up, just in time to get hit in the eye by a small rock, most likely thrown by yet another murloc. He took a couple of steps backwards and struggled to regain balance and focus before one of those murloc blades could kill him off, that would have been such a sad end.

Frantically looking around with blurry vision, he could see little, but he heard the cheering warriors. The battle was over for now. He sighed and slumped down on the ground, thankful that the battle had taken place inland and not on the beach. Sand is a pain to get out of the chain-mail links. He was in good shape except for his right eye, which was by now quite swollen, just a few more scratches and cuts to add to his collection. With his good eye he could make out someone walking towards him.

"Ah you survived I see."

Neda grinned, crossing her arms in front of her chest. The clawed gauntlet was nowhere to be seen. She knelt down in front of Ghelgor and inspected his battered eye. Relying on his other senses when deprived of his sight, he could smell blood on her, both orc and murloc. She'd charged into the thick of battle like a beast, it is understandable that she'd get plenty of trophies. Ghelgor's own performance left much to be desired, at least from his point of view. His reactions were slow and sluggish. Perhaps it could be attributed to the lethargy, the time spent in the internment camps, or maybe he'd simply allowed himself to trust in Mannoroth's power to the point of having lost touch with his own. With practice, he'd be back to his old self in no time. He didn't speak as Neda inspected him, happy instead to let her work.

"It's not as bad as it looks. I can probably fix it up, although it may be uncomfortable, healing was never one of my talents."

Ghelgor startled as a warm and tingling sensation spread around his eye, making his face itch. As the discomfort increased, he could slowly open more and more of his eye, until he could finally see clearly what was happening. Neda was kneeling in front of him, busy channeling energy. The green hazy light emanating from her hands didn't blind him, despite the fact that it was directed straight at his eye. Her eyes were closed and her expression strangely emotionless, with a slight frown forming. It was clear that she was struggling to heal him. When she finally stopped and looked at him, the residual energy tinted her brown eyes green for a moment. Ghelgor wasn't sure what to say or do. Neda was a Shaman, something he could barely remember from his childhood on Draenor. A position of high status in the New Horde. Confused, he acted on instinct, bowing his head.

"Thank you, Shaman."

Neda laughed her deep laugh, flicking him on the forehead.

"In skills and upbringing perhaps, but not in title. You can stop toadying."

Ghelgor did his best to hide his insecurity about the issue as he stood up, dusting himself off and checking the mobility of his now healed eye by scanning the tree line for any straggler murlocs.

"So what is your title then, if not Shaman? To me you seem to be as much a Shaman as Thrall."

"I wasn't happy with the direction my mentors were taking me, so I stopped my training. I'm just a warrior of the Horde, like you. Although with a different set of skills, granted..."

Ghelgor didn't force the issue further, he was more than happy to accept the fact that she was not a Shaman. The idea that she wouldn't be his equal in social rank had upset him more than it should have. Still, he knew there was more to the story than that. Neda had walked up to him while he'd been thinking, and stared at him with those piercing eyes. He didn't have to see her to know she was staring at him, he could feel it. Ghelgor shivered and turned towards her.

"Enough about that then... We need to get our Warchief back as soon as possible."
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Ghelgor
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Posts : 23
Join date : 2010-03-01
Age : 31
Location : Sweden

PostSubject: Re: Destiny of the Bloodfiend   Tue Apr 06, 2010 2:51 pm

Part Three: The Sea Witch

Ghelgor ripped his axe from the unfortunate murloc's back and sniffed its edge, stained with the slimy greenish-blue goo that passed for the creature's blood. It was an unpleasant odour, but it stung less than some other kinds of blood he'd encountered. Grabbing a few tufts of grass from the ground, he wiped the weapon clean and fastened it firmly in the harness on his back. There'd be more fighting ahead, but for now the area seemed clear. The orcs and trolls present on the field of battle were searching the bodies for their arrows, throwing axes and whatever else they'd used in the fray. Neda and a few others like her searched for wounded, healing the ones they could and easing the passing of the ones they couldn't. Neda mostly aided the efforts of the other healers, she had struggled to heal his eye and the wounds she now cared for were far worse. He caught a glimpse of a big and burly orc almost entirely reconstructing a wounded warrior's leg from the bone out. He didn't know what to think, it'd been so long since he'd experienced shamanism to this degree. He distrusted magic, but this was not like the magic he had come to know during the first wars. Still, nothing done without the strength of your own muscles could be trusted completely.

Some of the orcs who'd been on Thrall's ship told him that they'd encountered humans on the island before the ambush and the murlocs. It angered Ghelgor that he'd missed that battle, humans were a far more enjoyable foe than measly murlocs. But they'd been destroyed to the last man, so no use thinking about it. The trolls spoke in a strange tongue and he didn't bother trying to understand them, but since they'd become allies, Thrall must have been able to speak with them somehow. If only they'd get on their way and rescue the Warchief so they could get off this sorry excuse for a new home and continue the journey.

The palm trees rustled in the distance, the swaying branches caught the attention of every able warrior on the field. The rustling grew closer, travelling through the jungle like a large beast. The sound of weapons being drawn preceded the strong voice from the tree-line.

"Get the ships ready, we're leaving! Now!"

Thrall came bursting out from the jungle, followed by a small contingent of orcs and trolls. Everyone acted on instinct and rushed towards the ships. Ghelgor looked behind him as he ran, at the horde of murlocs swarming out from the jungle. They acted in unison, like a single being, with a grim determination. He found himself thinking of the creatures with respect, but something told him they didn't act like this out of their own free will, they were cowardly at heart after all. As the warriors reached the ships, Thrall ordered some on board to make ready to sail, while the rest stood firm to hold off the murlocs. Ghelgor held his axe in front of him, controlling his breathing as he prepared for battle. Their numbers were small compared to the enemy, but they would not be defeated. The wall of fish-men came towards them like the waves that'd harassed them at sea, and it would crash against them and fade away much the same. With a roar, Thrall threw a lightning bolt into the mass of murlocs, sending bodies flying up into the air and back against their friends, who quickly trampled them to death. The rest of the warriors, Ghelgor included, mimicked their warchief's roar and charged the now disorganized enemy front.

Ghelgor swung his axe in wide sweeps, there was little need to aim in this mass of enemies. The sand seemed to work for the murlocs as the proud orcs and trolls fought to stand firmly. The light, webbed feet of the fish-men ran and jumped across it with ease, letting them surround and outflank the warriors. Ghelgor roared as a murloc blade sunk in under his right shoulder pad. He turned around, his eyes having taken on a reddish tint, and grabbed the offending fish-man by the throat with his free hand, crushing it. He couldn't hear the rewarding gurgle over the sounds of battle, but he had no time for it either, more murlocs swarmed towards him from all directions. He resumed his sweeping, but the wound to his shoulder would not let him keep it up forever. The adrenaline pumping through his veins fuelled him and helped him ignore the pain. As the battle dragged on, the warriors found their position strengthened, they could stand on the numerous corpses instead of the sand, giving them far greater control. A spray of hot orc blood hit Ghelgor's face as a murloc jumped and sank its blade into a nearby warrior's throat. Through a gap in the enemy ranks, he caught a glimpse of a being of some sort. It hovered a few inches off the ground and had an appearance reminiscent of the elves. The being used magic against the warriors and seemed to drive the murlocs on, this was the master he'd suspected.

He roared and charged through the ranks towards the elven sorcerer, as he drew nearer he could see that the being was almost transparent. He jumped at it with his axe held high, ready to strike, but was swiftly hit by a chock-wave of some kind and sent flying back the way he came. Crashing into several murlocs, he struggled to his feet. His axe was nowhere to be seen. He once again reminded himself that tools just weren't enough, he would never have dropped his old axe. Several murlocs jumped him, slashing at him with their blades. He averted as many as he could with his bracers, but far too many hit their mark, slashing him across the arms and chest. He managed to grab a slimy arm and break it, catching the blade as it fell from the limp hand. The blade was small for an orc, but it was better than nothing and allowed him some protection. He parried and lunged at the murlocs, but the battle was dragging on for too long, he couldn't go on like this. He'd already switched the blade to his left hand as his right arm grew too weak to use it effectively. Thrall's voice broke through the barrage of sounds, the order to retreat onto the ships was finally given. The surviving warriors scrambled towards the ships, the murlocs following close behind. Ghelgor barely managed to keep his balance on the plank leading up to the deck. Several murlocs started climbing the hull of the ship as it drifted away from the shore, gaining speed, but they were swiftly dealt with by the relatively fresh warriors on board. The strange sorcerer stood on the shore, shouting threats of doom, as the island erupted in volcanic activity.

The murlocs, growing smaller by the second, scrambled around on the shore, many diving into the water to escape the turbulent upheaval. On the ship, Ghelgor slumped down on the deck, leaning against the railing. He let the spray of the sea slowly wash the blood from his face as he scanned the survivors for Neda. He hadn't seen her since before the battle, but he was sure she could take care of herself, she had powers beyond his understanding. Finally he spotted her, as a healer walked away from her to tend to the next warrior in need. She stood up and walked towards him, sitting down next to him on the deck. She had several wounds, although most were completely healed, leaving only a mark that would either disappear or become yet another scar. He looked at them with admiration. She looked at his wounds, like he'd looked at hers, and smiled. They didn't say anything, the battle had said enough for both of them.

The waves started their assault on the ships again, their true destination was still ahead of them. The leader of the trolls had been slain, and now his son pledged allegiance to the warchief. At least something had come out of the disastrous landing. Ghelgor closed his eyes and waited for the healer to get around to him.
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