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 Cloak and Dagger

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Posts : 5
Join date : 2011-05-09

PostSubject: Cloak and Dagger   Mon May 09, 2011 9:22 am

Part 1

Igra stood in the dimly lit room, peons around her suiting her up for the coming battle. She said nothing to them, she did not care for them. Footsteps echoed through the burrow, the outline of a farmiliar Blood Guard appearing in the gloom.
"Look sharp, Darkmaw. You know what we have to face." the shade spoke. "Even with our new gifts.. We may struggle."
Igra frowned, pulling a strap taught on her armor.
"I know our task. But we cannot fail. Nothing will stop us now, Not even the Demigod."
"-Perhaps you are right.. But we'll find out what you're made of soon enough."
Two sets of seething red eyes illuminated the cold stone set. A cackle crept from the Blood Guard slowly, followed by fading footsteps.

She looked skywards, thick plumes of smoke filling the air. The cries of the Warsong rang around her. Her eyes thinned, thinking back into her past..

Firestorms erupted overhead, lightning filling the air as the warriors of the Horde pushed closer and closer to the Stair of Destiny. A last bastion of desperate Humans stood between the green tide and freedom. All around them, the land was being torn asunder by the wretched magics of Ner'Zhul, his reckless raising of portals ripping the very fabrics of the Red World apart. Amist the masses of fleeing Orcs, Igra and her mother, Agma, fought their way through the crowds.
"Why are we leaving the Land of Winds? What is happening, Ma-Sera?" In truth, Igra was but a youngling. She had no idea what was about to happen.
"We can't talk now - Hurry, your father is out there with Grom and the Blademasters beating back to Humans."
As the crowd surged forwards, horns of the Alliance blared behind them. Troops from Expedition Armory - Sent into Draenor to end the orcish threat to Azeroth - stormed towards the flank of the column. The last of the Humans clinging around the Portal lay shattered and defeated, and Igra climbed the stair with a heavy heart. A push from one of the hundreds of moving Orcs sent her to the floor, breaking her knee on a loose pave stone. Weakly, a cry rang through the crowd. She lost sight of her mother quickly in the turmoil. The sky above her groaned, mountains simply disintergrating into floating rubble. A lean Orc, built very similarly to Igra today, grabbed at her waist from the ground. "Hurry friend, we cannot wait here! -Over here, Agma!" She was swept from the floor, carried in the safe arms of her closest friend, Gorrum. "Your father has already passed through the portal, we're almost there Igra. Stay awake." Agma looked upon her wounded child with nothing but concern, her eyes then cast back at her homeworld. Igra caught one last glimpse of Draenor before finally stepping through the portal..

The cries of all Horde and Alliance soldiers alike were silenced as the very ground began to break and split. Boulders of molten fire roared towards the ground, smashing and destroying the world Igra was raised in. The sky itself was set ablaze, and fel energies gripped the core of the world, wrestling it violently..

"..Agma..Ma'Sera.. Gorrum.. Thurg.. Fa'Sera.." Igra looked back down upon the peons around her, warboots now chewing into the ground below her. A thick wolven cloak hung around her shoulders, the collar turned up disguising much of her face. "I hope you're watching. I'll join you soon." The bravest of the peons knelt before her, her fathers' blades offered to her. She took them up proudly, marching out onto her camp overlooking the ongoing battle.
The fire of the legion burned firecely within her heart. The events that followed would scorch her memory forever.
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Join date : 2011-02-08
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PostSubject: Re: Cloak and Dagger   Tue May 10, 2011 10:03 am

((Oh wow, I was sad when I got to the end. Please keep the storyline rolling, Im liking this a lot!))
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Join date : 2011-05-09

PostSubject: Re: Cloak and Dagger   Tue May 10, 2011 4:07 pm

(( Why thank you! As you asked nicely.. ))

Part 2

The Stoneguard stepped into the late evening twilight, making her way through the bustling camp. Grunts and shaman alike keened their blades on worn grinding stones, the scent of charred metal drifting through the air. Drillsergeants hollered orders to clusters of Grunts, marching eagerly towards the camp gates overlooking the vale below them. In the far distance a sentinel post, battered and sieged, stood defiantly against the Orcish Horde. Whispers spread through the camp that the Night Elven deity was watching over the tired sentinels from the woods. Igra made her way through the scorched grounds of the encampment, stopping by as a wiff of commotion spread to her.

In a quiet corner of the camp, an overgrown grunt known as Brogat had turned his rage upon one of the weakest of peons.
"You pathetic whelps bring shame to us all." he gutterally growled, sending his fist once more into the face of the barely concious Peon. Igra fought her way through the crowd of spectating Orcs. "Unworthy. Useless. We should throw you to the Elves, they might be some match for you." He threw the Peon like a ragdoll to one side. The Peon struggled to his feet, slipping a little on his own blood, and ran to cower behind one of the bystanders. He was quickly thrown back into the ring, only to be beaten once again. Brogat cracked his knuckles one at a time, chuckling low to himself. Round about this time he was tripped by a heavy metal-clad boot, sent tumbling into a stack of crates. Livid, the burly Orc proceeded to throw one of the obliterated crates towards Igra. His clumsy manner and predicable nature made this an easy dodge.

"You call yourself a Warrior Brogat." Igra snarled, her fiery eyes focussed on him. "I call you filth. Get up, lah. Your hour draws close."
Brogat raised to his feet, picking up a large axe that rested upon a nearby stake wall. Without hesitation, he thundered towards Igra with the speed of a charging Kodo. With a smug smirk, the Stoneguard slipped into the shadows. Brogat charged straight into the stake wall, dazing himself. Her momentary advantage soon turned as he arced the back of his hand, hitting Igra clean in the abdomen. With a sharp pained exhale, the winded Orc fell onto her knees gasping for air. The gleam of a huge axe ripping through the airspace above her pushed Igra to roll to one side, the head crushing the ground it struck. Igra drew one of her daggers quickly, only just regaining airflow. She tried to move for cover, but a thick hand grabbed the tail of her cloak and yanked her clean off her feet.
Igra hung from the air, choking on her cloak slowly. Her hands grasped at her neck. "You are weak, Darkmaw. You were born weak. Your mother and father were weak." A second low chuckle rang from his crooked lips.

"Gorrum was weak."

Something within her core stirred as the last words seeped into her mind. Igra whipped her dagger into her strong arm, thrusting it straight into the elbow of the behemoth arm she was hung by. With a lightning-fast reave, the dagger was wrenched downwards leaving a gaping wound all the way down the brutes' arm. The crowd around the battling pair began to chant and cheer, the sight of blood a welcome one to the restless Horde. Brogat roared in pain, falling on his back trying to hold his arm together. Igra lept onto his chest and began to swing punch after punch into the fallen Orcs' ogre-like face. As his movements slowed and his strength began to leave him, the crowd fell into near silence until only the pounding of flesh could be heard. The Stoneguard spat into his fading eyes, standing to her feet and darting out of the camp.

After a short wind through the twisting forests, Igra came to a small hollow within a knot of thick Oak trees. She sat and gazed at the three scrapped-together headstones that marked the resting places of her only family and first, and possibly last, mate. Here she would spend some time reflecting her actions.. But the hour of Godfall drew ever closer...
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