[Horde] Chapter Five: Session One
Appearing Characters: Arthak Saurfang, Azgadaan/Sol'chi, Bakaz, Bru'kan, Eudora, Hooktusk, Levia Blackflight, Nyxxa, Zar'Kaa, Zuni
Prologue
No-one living has heard of the village of my birth.
From childhood, my deformity made me a target for mockery and dismissal. I knew I was meant for more than the clan would ever allow of me, and I hated them for it. But after months, alone and starving, I began to consider that the shelter and safety of a clan might be better than endless suffering.
The bitterness that had sustained me all my life ate at me, until nothing was left.
In my weakness, the words of the old shaman pierced the cold; 'Seek out the Throne of the Elements.' There, humbled and broken, I offered myself in the service of whatever would end my anguish.
The elements abandoned me, but in their absence other voices whispered.
They had come to me to offer a gift. In return, I would become the harbinger of their fury.
...But even they turned their back on me when I had outlived their usefulness, only for them to come crawling back when next they sought to use me once more.
Again... and again... and again.
They are fickle masters; no better than the ash I left behind all those years ago, in the smoldering pyre that is the village of my birth. But now, I have become power incarnate... and I will not be denied. Not by the so-called Alliance. Not by the misbegotten children who seek to steal my Horde.
And not by Sargeras or his demonic Legion.
There are two types of people in the world: those whose knees are raw from begging for a meaning to their miserable life–pleading for what scraps of power their betters deem fit to share–and those who take from this wretched existence what they desire.
I will never again grovel for a place in this world. Instead, I will forge a world that will grovel before me.
No-one living has heard of the village of my birth, and no-one ever will.
October 12th - October 26th
A small fleet of ships had set off from Quel’danas in order to pursue the Legion to the Broken Isles. They were captained by the best orcs the Horde had at their disposal to navigate the alien seas of Azeroth. Behind the three orcish vessels was a single trollish destroyer that was captained by the amani troll Bakaz.
Many, many miles away, also on the ocean and speeding its way into the unknown was another, much smaller vessel known as the Reuniter. It was a sturdy vessel that was crafted by the Darkspear Tribe of jungle trolls. It was quick and adaptable, and they were prepared to be tossed by the waves. The captain of the vessel was a seasoned, but untested commander. So far, he had done well. They had encountered a number of trolls–some were Darkspear, and others were not, but they were invited aboard the vessel in hopes of starting another new beginning.
The vessel had a sharp, sleek look as the Darkspear valued speed and efficiency in their travels. The crew was quite busy on the average day. The majority of them were jungle trolls, but there was a smattering of other types among them. Each day, Zar’Kaa helped to facilitate the chores on the ship and tended to the needs of the refugees that they had found. Some days, they had a small group session where they shared their experiences so they could perhaps process them better, and daily Zar’Kaa ensured the health on the ship was as good as it could be. He typically slept with the crew, as his quarters were reserved for a place for the sick or newly found could rest. When he could sleep, of course, as there were nights that were long and sleep didn’t come. On those nights, he went where he could be alone.
On one of those evenings, Zar’Kaa found himself near the prow of the ship. It was a beautiful night. The moons were high in the sky, and the Pale Lady was immaculate as it lit nearly the entire ocean. However, Zar’Kaa was focused on his emotions, as he was one of the most skilled of the warriors aboard the Reuniter. If a threat emerged, he needed to be ready, as one misstep could risk lives, and he knew that. He went through endless drills, like clockwork, until the the sweat shone beneath the light of the moon. He took deep breaths as he ended a series of drills, and then he heard a voice.
Zar’Kaa turned his head, as the voice was familiar, but it wasn’t a member of his crew. He hadn’t thought of the voice in a while. There was no one there as he turned toward the source. Zar’Kaa grunted.
The voice laughed.
He flipped his spear around.
Zar’Kaa felt a hand on his shoulder, and he then realized why the voice seemed familiar. He hadn’t heard it for a while. Not since he died. Zar’Kaa turned, and shimmering in the moonlight was a spectral form smiling with twinkling eyes. It was Bru’kan. He had followed the Darkspear when they left, but then he had passed.
Zar’Kaa dropped his defensive stance.
Bru’kan laughed.
Zar’Kaa’s face has a mix of surprise and disgruntlement.
Bru’kan bopped Zar’Kaa’s nose. Zar’Kaa shook his head.
Zar’Kaa sat down on a railing.
Zar’Kaa looked down.
Bru’kan winked with a small smile.
Bru’kan looked down at his own spectral form.
Zar’Kaa’s expression softened.
Zar’kaa raised an eyebrow as Bru’kan put his hand on his shoulder.
Bru’kan laughed.
Zar’Kaa hesitantly reaches out and takes Bru’kan’s hand off his shoulder.
Bru’kan’s form swirled past Zar’Kaa, and the spirit coalesced around his spear and a bolt of lightning coursed up the weapon. Zar’Kaa looked at the spear, and there was almost a crackling after-image of shamanic magic as he swung it–lightning, like Bru’kan’s own preference. Zar’Kaa looked around the ship and threw the spear at the pole of the crow’s nest. Lightning coursed around Zar’Kaa’s hand, he was transfigured into lightning for the briefest moment. When he reappeared, he was hanging off the spear off the side of the mast.
Zar’Kaa made a startled noise as he looked down.
A trail of Bru’kan’s laughter was heard, and Zar’Kaa swung himself onto the mast and threw it down back on the deck. Once again, he teleported along with it. In spite of everything, he got a decent night’s sleep.
Meanwhile, back with the Iron March expedition, the war band had departed Silvermoon and they plotted their course knowing they were headed in the right direction, despite going blind. Thankfully, because of the disturbance, they were able to keep on course, but it was a long journey.
Each day, Arthak had been dispersing itineraries and spent a great deal of time working on paperwork, but eventually he ran out of paper to work. Once he did, he fell back to working on some poetry and doing training and sparring with anyone that was interested.
Nyxxa was doing her best not to get anxious about going to the night elf holy land, but she had generally decided to dabble a bit more deeply into magic and explore that with the people willing to teach her. She also mused that it might be worth developing a poison that worked on demons (definitely not because she wants to drink booze), but Levia (for similar reasons) was also helping to spearhead that mission, as was Shinfel, both in regards to magic and poisons. A common sight was Nyxxa vaulting from ship to ship as she was running around getting to know the various people.
Azgadaan was quite busy during the voyage. He created a simulacrum of himself, and then he spent some time teleporting back to Draenor and back to the ship. For a while, there was a substitute Azgadaan while he was gone, and very few people were informed it wasn’t actually him.
When Azgadaan returned fully, he gathered Arthak, Levia, and Nyxxa together and expressed that he wanted to change his appearance more permanently. Nyxxa’s eyes lit up, completely interested, and Arthak mused his interest. Levia said she was more than willing to help as she had gone through it once. Plus it was just a smart idea given he was wanted.
Azgadaan said he brought back a lot of clay, which Arthak asked what that was for, and Azgadaan said it was part of the ritual.
The intention was for his simulacrum to be the target of any bounty hunters that perhaps came for him.
Nyxxa puts a finger on Azgadaan’s heart, and Levia smiled.
Azgadaan made a bed of clay to lay on, along with a small clay model of what he wanted to look like. As he completed the spell, he spoke the name he was going to go by: Sol’chi. The clay took on a violet glow and enveloped around him almost like a seed pod, which eventually hardened, steamed, and then fell away after a full hour. The trio of people had sat around, waiting, but they were alerted as the shell fell away. When it did, they saw a very different-looking eredar.
He was much smaller than Azgadaan. His forehead crest was much less produced, and his horns split into two horns on each side. He was also much morelithe with a longer tail, and his skin was purple instead of red. Sol’chi looked down at the clay figure in his hand, and it now looked like he used to look.
He took a deep breath, as he was quite fatigued by the experience. Levia looked at Sol, and her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped.
She shook her head.
Levia looked over at Nyxxa.
Nyxxa had been quietly chanting she wasn’t going to hug, but in a split second she went in for a gentle hug.
Sol takes a long time to think, but then shakes his head.
Levia made an overly dramatic sigh, and everyone laughed and smiled. They then went about introducing the new eredar that had shown up. The only people that knew the truth were Nyxxa, Arthak, and Levia. No one questioned the introduction as he was in the company of the warchief.
Sol pulled Nyxxa aside as well.
Nyxxa and Sol embraced as he quietly thanked her.
Shortly after, Arthak approached Sol and handed him a piece of paper.
It was a poem.
Breaking through name and flesh,
Denying death, embracing birth
from three-world's clay,
A soul shining through cracks,
A truth unbidden and fulfilled.
Arthak does so, and Sol lets the poem burn up in the flame.
Arthak smiled.
The days blended together, but it wasn’t too bad when you’re surrounded by the people you love and trust. In the meanwhile, the simulacrum of Azgadaan continued researching what the source of Levia’s magic might have been.
October 27th
The ships had passed several islands as they made their way, and then ensured to keep a wide berth away from Kul Tiras. As they passed through the disturbance, they felt an almost static chill and unease. It left as quickly as it arrived.
It was well past the half-way mark of their journey. The orc that was serving as lookout shouted, and then alarm bells started to sound.
Suddenly there was canon fire.
Bakaz’s ship had come up next to Arthak’ss.
He looks over at Sol as he was trying to grab the spyglass while juggling a coconut drink he had made from fruits he had snatched from an island.
The Reuniter had been making an uneventful trek as they headed toward the Darkspear Isles. They were perhaps a day out according to the old charts. But then…
The ships were significantly bigger, and there were five of them. The massive destroyer at the head had a massive shark jaw with pistols crossed above it. The one just behind the lead destroyer had a flag with a big rat face. Zar’Kaa identified the two nearest ships as he recognized the banners. The rat-faced banner was crewed by the Bilge Rats, who were a crew of non-traditional folk that was captained by the fearsome Captain Eudora, who was a fierce vulpera. She was a devil with a pistol, and a skilled free-booter that was largely unaffiliated with the larger pirate crews.
However, the first ship was the Gral’s Tooth, who was piloted by the infamous Captain Hooktusk, who was a massive mountain of muscular jungle troll. She was a force to be reckoned with, as she carried a ship cannon as a side arm, and she had long, pinkish hair braided into a shark’s tail that was as long as she was tall. She had two golden tips on her risks, and she was missing an eye.
Zuni clambered down and handed Zar’Kaa a spyglass. He looked through it, and could see Hooktusk on the prow of her ship with a big grin. She looked directly into the spyglass, and waved.
