I had to write this for a character development activity with my WoW guild. I was to write a short story of a memory in my character's life. Its the first time I write something in well over a year and am feeling rather rusty.
Anyways, here it is, is it any good or is the order of things too confusing?
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Desolace wore its name well. A deserted plain of rock and dried land. A broken land, forever tainted by Sergeras’ Burning Legion.
A lone orc, too, was broken and worn out, his ribs shattered and a deep bleeding gash spread across his chest. Grim Blackmane sat against the ruined remains of an ancient building. Each breath, heavy with exhaustion, was an agonizing torture. He lay his head against the wall, staring into the clouded sky, allowing the rain pouring onto him to cool his spirits. In his bloodied hands, he gripped the shattered remains of his axe, as if it were his life.
Not five feet away from him lay the corpse of Lord Azretoc, a Doomguard of the Burning Legion. His head lay, severed from the body, pupil-less eyes peering blankly into the nothingness of the void. A gigantic falchion blade stood tall next to the corpse, stabbed into the earth. The sickly green aura that had swirled around it had vanished with the life of its wielder.
Their meeting had been long in the coming. Young Grimgash Blackmane had begun hunting the creature in the far away jungles of Stranglethorn Vale, where even there Azretoc’s taint spread. Weeks, even months, had been spent seeking the help of wisemen and warlocks alike, in hopes that their expertise would guide his steps. Weeks more were spent on false trails and dangerous quests. Mislead, he had even braved Felhill alone, cutting through Felguard, Infernals, Succubii and Felhounds. He’d almost met his demise infiltrating the remnants of a Legion underground stronghold there, but had managed to escape with his life and many scars. Furious and hungry for revenge, he had found the fool gnome warlock whom had mislead him and crushed its tiny skull with a single meaty hand.
Time grew longer, his quest hopeless.
Even hopeless, eventually wind and time brought him to Desolace and it was by pure chance that he learned of Mannoroc Coven and the demonic forces there. With the aid of a Forsaken Warlock by the name of Sarasisa, they managed to confirm that the source of Grim’s taint was indeed rooted there.
« Your battle is a brave one, Orc, but I have nothing to gain in helping you further. I have already wasted enough time on such foolish personal quests, » was all that the Warlock had to say before she parted ways with the orcish warrior, leaving alone once more to face certain doom.
For his people, for the Horde, and for Warchief Thrall, Grimgash Blackmane gripped his axe and started for the Coven where he would smite the Doomguard and end the accursed taint. Victory was needed, at all cost, even if it claimed his life…
*****
Grimgash flexed his arm, as he studied the battlefield before him. Wounds had been mended, his axe had been remade and the memories served as a reminder that nothing was hopeless.
Now he stood, proud and great, clad in the shiniest of plate armor. The great spiked pauldrons that he wore on each shoulder gave him an intimidating allure, like a demon ready to cut through flesh and devour souls. Still, he was none of that. He was a warrior of the Horde, a rider and commander of the Blackmyst Raiders. He raised his axe high and the troops behind him unsheathed their weapons, ready to charge against the outmatching odds of the Alliance before them.
« Blood for honor, » whispered his Troll Captain Siaala, next to him.
Grimgash nodded, « Blood for honor, life for victory. »
Reigning their mounts into a charge, the troops of the Blackmyst Raiders started down the flank of the mountain, into the choas of battle, howling in unison, « FOR THE HORDE! »
Anyways, here it is, is it any good or is the order of things too confusing?
-----
Desolace wore its name well. A deserted plain of rock and dried land. A broken land, forever tainted by Sergeras’ Burning Legion.
A lone orc, too, was broken and worn out, his ribs shattered and a deep bleeding gash spread across his chest. Grim Blackmane sat against the ruined remains of an ancient building. Each breath, heavy with exhaustion, was an agonizing torture. He lay his head against the wall, staring into the clouded sky, allowing the rain pouring onto him to cool his spirits. In his bloodied hands, he gripped the shattered remains of his axe, as if it were his life.
Not five feet away from him lay the corpse of Lord Azretoc, a Doomguard of the Burning Legion. His head lay, severed from the body, pupil-less eyes peering blankly into the nothingness of the void. A gigantic falchion blade stood tall next to the corpse, stabbed into the earth. The sickly green aura that had swirled around it had vanished with the life of its wielder.
Their meeting had been long in the coming. Young Grimgash Blackmane had begun hunting the creature in the far away jungles of Stranglethorn Vale, where even there Azretoc’s taint spread. Weeks, even months, had been spent seeking the help of wisemen and warlocks alike, in hopes that their expertise would guide his steps. Weeks more were spent on false trails and dangerous quests. Mislead, he had even braved Felhill alone, cutting through Felguard, Infernals, Succubii and Felhounds. He’d almost met his demise infiltrating the remnants of a Legion underground stronghold there, but had managed to escape with his life and many scars. Furious and hungry for revenge, he had found the fool gnome warlock whom had mislead him and crushed its tiny skull with a single meaty hand.
Time grew longer, his quest hopeless.
Even hopeless, eventually wind and time brought him to Desolace and it was by pure chance that he learned of Mannoroc Coven and the demonic forces there. With the aid of a Forsaken Warlock by the name of Sarasisa, they managed to confirm that the source of Grim’s taint was indeed rooted there.
« Your battle is a brave one, Orc, but I have nothing to gain in helping you further. I have already wasted enough time on such foolish personal quests, » was all that the Warlock had to say before she parted ways with the orcish warrior, leaving alone once more to face certain doom.
For his people, for the Horde, and for Warchief Thrall, Grimgash Blackmane gripped his axe and started for the Coven where he would smite the Doomguard and end the accursed taint. Victory was needed, at all cost, even if it claimed his life…
*****
Grimgash flexed his arm, as he studied the battlefield before him. Wounds had been mended, his axe had been remade and the memories served as a reminder that nothing was hopeless.
Now he stood, proud and great, clad in the shiniest of plate armor. The great spiked pauldrons that he wore on each shoulder gave him an intimidating allure, like a demon ready to cut through flesh and devour souls. Still, he was none of that. He was a warrior of the Horde, a rider and commander of the Blackmyst Raiders. He raised his axe high and the troops behind him unsheathed their weapons, ready to charge against the outmatching odds of the Alliance before them.
« Blood for honor, » whispered his Troll Captain Siaala, next to him.
Grimgash nodded, « Blood for honor, life for victory. »
Reigning their mounts into a charge, the troops of the Blackmyst Raiders started down the flank of the mountain, into the choas of battle, howling in unison, « FOR THE HORDE! »
Was cheated out of lions by happydud
Was cheated out of marriage by sugarless
Was cheated out of marriage by sugarless
