Shokkra

Felrage

3 posts in this topic

“Get me to a healer.” He had made a mistake. He shouldn't have made a mistake. He should have been ready. He should have planned for this. The arcane vortex of the portal threw him to Orgrimmar. She was carrying him.

“What the he-” The crackling of flame silenced the priest. “HEAL HIM!” She was angry. He was angry. This never happened. He was always ready. He never lost unless it benefited him. He always had a way out. Why didn’t it work? Light washed over him. He didn’t feel any different. He looked over to his arm. Pale. Still pale. Almost white. Wrong. “Shaman.” A blast of heat impacted the worshipper of the Light. It screamed as the fire tore away at its skin. She picked him up.

The cave was lit. Inviting. She set him down on stone. “By the elements…” She summoned the flame in her hands again.Nothing further was needed. The Farseer set to work. Totems were placed nearby. Water. Healing rain, streams. Soothing.What did he use? Faster than normal targets. Quieter. No illusion. Smoke? Light teleportation. Useful. Intelligent. Dangerous. Weapons. Blades? Green. Fel. Warglaives? Hunter. Will have to watch it more. Distance. Use slaves. A pain seized his chest. Breath. Wrong. “Mage.” She summoned a bound elemental to her. The Shaman drowned. She picked him up.

Bright stone. The Drag. Enchanting? Smart of her. Scream. Shrill. A table was cleared. She yelled. One ran. A lance of ice went through its kneecap. Its mouth froze. He was set back down. Fear. They were scared. Weak. “Purge.” The elf stammered spells. Better for her to choose those more used to this. Enchanters could help. Verify location. She was useful. Intelligent. Brutal. Resourceful. Deadly. Attractive. Perhaps. More thought needed on the subject. Would Shokkra cry? Humorous. Mother would be proud. Nothing had changed. One more option. “Fel Forge.” The Mage looked up. The other was still crying. She picked him up. The tower exploded.

Dark. The sky was always dark in Taanan. Curious effect of the Fel.  So strong it altered the heavens. Powerful. Draining. The forge was nearly abandoned. Bodies were strewn about. Husks. Lifeless. Warlocks remained. Drained the rest to survive the longest. They would fall soon. Just as the citadel had. She was angry. The Fel was corrupting. Wrong. It would feast on him and use him. Take away what he was. No other choice. Was she worried? Unexpected. He felt a brief rush of air. Oh. It flooded into him. Sickly green infested every part of his body. He trashed and writhed. The metal of his legs and arm twisted and changed. It burned. He opened his mouth to scream and he choked on it. It punctured his every movement with horrible pain. It felt GOOD. He felt his muscles ripple and flex. He felt the tendons and ligaments of his lost limbs lash out at the iron and form with it. He felt his bones crack, snap, break and change. He felt an overwhelming sense of power like he had never felt before. He broke the surface of the pool, leaping forward from the fount of Fel energy and roared, his howl piercing the air. The Warlocks were waiting for him. One stepped forward, arms open. “Welcome, brother. To the Stormreaver Clan.” She was watching. She looked disgusted. He didn’t care. He would tear the world asunder with the Fel. He would break them all.

Edited by Shokkra
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Doraaaaa

Day five. Outside the Dark Portal right now. Back to being green and shit since we destroyed the Red Portal. Vorniinov and the other draenei are sleeping in the alliance side, we’re sleeping in the Horde side. Got treated to a damn decent meal and some fuckin good wine. A few of the guards around here are gonna join up with us since I can like, kinda conscript them since I’m a Blood Guard and they’re bored as shit here so we got a couple of mages, an elven ranger and a druid. Feasting and drinking before making the hard ride through Hellfire and Zangarmarsh and Terrokar before hitting Shadowmoon. Once we get the Warlocks we’re gonna head to the Temple of Karabor and see what Akama and the Ashtongue have done to purify it and make it beautiful again. Soooo yeah, fun stuff.

It’s cool that you're hanging with your brother. I’m sure he’s a decent-ish person under all the layers of bravado and cowardice and idiocy. I’ll work on a letter for him and send it with this one. Easy access to an actual mailbox right now so I’m getting all my stuff done before I have to use couriers or ride hard enough to get to Thrallmar and shit. I won’t have a seal on it or anything so you can read it I'd you want, make sure I was sincere enough. Cool that you’re hanging with Isa too. I bet you’re a great teacher. Can show her how to skin a dragon and shit like that. Ooh, could cover her in gore from Ghouls you kill and have her walk all dead-like towards your mom. Scare the shit out of her. Heh.

The cinnamon cookies you sent were edible and pretty fucking good. I stuffed them all in my face except for a couple which I gave to Vorniinov as a gesture of goodwill. I think he liked them because he gave me me a bottle of light-blessed wine. Only for really special occasions. So thanks for helping keep the peace! Woo Sanctuary! Also I’ll talk to my mom about you if I see her. I bet she’d like you if she met you. Your respect for the hunt and the reverence for the spirits and the elements would totally get you on her good side which is quite a feat.

You would’ve been a fucking kick ass paladin. Your kindness and compassion and positivity and fucking bravery would make for a fucking beacon of the Light. Hell you still could be a beacon of the Light, you got so much time and-

 

“Hey, Purple, writing another love letter to your girlfriend?” The orc man laughed as he cleaned his rifle. Shokkra groaned, falling back on the crate she was sitting on. She set her pen and paper to the side,looking around at the defences of the portal. Setting up camp here had seemed like such a good idea before everyone started teasing her. If only she didn’t have to send so many damn letters. Then again, she kinda loved writing them. Calmed her down and let her focus on something brighter than demons and warlocks. Shokkra flipped off the sniper and that just made him laugh harder. “I’ll be taking that as a yes.”

Shokkra rubbed at her face. It was getting dark and the portal was the brightest thing for miles around. Hehe. Dark Portal is bright. The orcess snickered internally at her own joke and allowed herself a grin. The patting of feet on the hard blasted rock caught her attention. Olgoth was leaning on the crates, hands wrapped together under his chin while his elbows propped him up, looking down at Shokkra. The damnable sniper had been fucking with her since day one, came up with the nickname and the elf taunts and whatever the hell he was up to now. Too fucking bad he’s a good shot. She needed everyone to be ready to hunt these fucking Stormreavers to the end, and having one of Garrosh Hellscream’s best marksmen on her side certainly helped, even if he was a dick. The warlocks were running and fighting for their lives, Shokkra's Kor’kron and Vorniinov’s draenei were ending the last piece of a corrupted world. It felt good to be on this assignment. Forge stronger bonds between Sanctuary and the Alliance as well as put an end to the feldamned Stormreaver Clan, those that had once corrupted the home of her people and almost did so again. Shame that Ner’zhul wasn't still around. She would have loved to tear that bastard apart like he tore Draenor apart. Limb from limb, bone from bone she would have obliterated that fucki-

“Hey, Purple.” Shokkra grunted, broken from her hate fueled daydream. Olgoth poked her cheek lightly, still wearing that shit eating grin.

“What is it ogre fucker?” It was an old insult, tried and true. It’d serve while the orcess thought of one with more bite. Rifle-fucker? Fellicker? Barrel-plugger? Eh, not bad. The sniper poked her again. She was tempted to bite it off and shove it in his eye.

“If I could find an ogre lady, I would. But right now the Vindicator wants to see you. Something about the end of the world and moving.” Olgoth stuck his finger over at the Alliance side of the blockade where the Draenei had stationed. Shokkra sighed, getting up to her feet and stuffing her writing supplies down her shirt. “You know I could take care of those while you’re busy, proofread, make sure you didn’t draw hearts instead of circles on top of the i’s.” He crumpled to the ground as Shokkra planted her boot on his groin, rendering the cocky sniper a near broken orc. Good enough for now. Shokkra giggled with the glee of an arsonist and half-skipped over to the Alliance.

Vorniinov was waiting for her in a tent illuminated by the crystals the draenei just had to use for everything, giving the inside a purplish glow. As she stepped through the flap the seasoned paladin gobbled down the last bits of a cinnamon cookie and waved happily at Shokkra. She couldn't help but smile as she gave a light wave back. “Greetings, Guardian. I’m glad to see you came so quickly, I half expected you to be too embroiled in your writing to permit my distraction.”

Shokkra chuckled, rubbing her face. “Word travel that fast about my letters?”

“Your marksman is quite talkative, and I believe in knowing those who I work with. While I didn’t expect you to be some horrible orcish monster, I did think you’d be a bit of a brutish warrior. Your commitment to Sanctuary's good work with my people and your company’s tales of you loving an elf girl has left me happily surprised however.” He chuckled, wiping a few crumbs off of his tabard. “If she is as sweet as her cookies are then I see why you like her.”

“For the record they DO exaggerate things. Just, you know, with this they’re mostly right.” Shokkra sighed as she pulled up a chair to the large table in the center of the room. A map of Outland had been set on top with the glowing crystals holding down each of the corners. There were marks on several locations throughout the wasteland of a world. The orcess gestured to the markers. “What are these?”

The vindicator trod forward to the table and pointed at each of the markings in turn. “In Hellfire, here at the Citadel, have been reports of activity. The same goes for Coilfang Reservoir, the old forge camps in western Nagrand, Tempest Keep and, finally, the Hand of Gul’dan. Almost all simultaneously reports have come in that there have been sightings of black robed figures and demons at these locations. We’re assuming that the Stormreavers are gathering all their remaining strength and possible allies to perform some sort of ritual at the Hand. So, we’re going to stop them. Slaughtering any demons we find along the way we'll make our way to the Hand of Gul’dan and put an end to the vile Clan for good.” Vorniinov stated flatly, with finality.

Shokkra surveyed the map. Warlocks using demonic portals would explain all the sightings, keep themselves busy while their hunters rode through hell to find them. Luckily that hell had calmed down since the last great hunt of Outland. “The Clan, yeah. But Gul’dan is still out there. I doubt he’s orchestrating this mess. It’s disorganized, dangerous. If they were being led competently then there wouldn't be any reports at all. Whatever ritual they’re planning is probably to find the bastard and get to him. They could grab potential allies at Coilfang, tools and reagents from Nagrand, magical shit at Tempest with Kael’thas being all demon Legion crazed and the Hand us named after the cunt for a reason. If they wanted to locate and travel to their master that’d be the place to go.”

Vorniinov nodded. “That makes sense. Perhaps we wait for them to open a gateway and we strike then? Destroy the Stormreavers and Gul’dan in one attack. The Legion would be without a powerful ally if we eliminated the wretch.”

Shokkra tilted her head from side to side, running a hand through her hair. “I’d love to kill the bastard, I really would, but we are not nearly strong enough to kill that fucker. Hell even the remaining warlocks have a chance of wiping us all out, especially if they get the fuckin fish to help. We cut off the portal, kill the warlocks, call it a day. Sound good?” The draenei sighed and after a moment nodded his agreement. Shokkra smiled. “I’ll tell my troops, ride hard for Thrallmar tomorrow and keep going as fast and far as we can everyday until we get to the volcano. Lok’tar, Vorniinov.” The draenei mumbled a prayer as Shokkra exited the tent, returning to her crates.

She stepped on the just recovering back of Olgoth onto her spot and pulled out her writing tools. Shokkra reread what she had wrote, tapping the end of the pen against her lower lip. Fucking damn it.  Time. Always fucking time. Damn time. I’ll get back to her soon and I can stop worrying about fucking dying and fucking age and fucking time and fucking demons because fuck them all, I got someone better to think about. She scribbled out the rest of the paragraph.

 

I’ll wait for your letter before I go out. Maybe once we get these Warlock bastards I should come back and hang instead? We got time.

Love,

-Shokkra Deathrage

 

Shokkra giggled and folded the letter, pictured herself sealing it with a kiss, broke out of her girly daydream and plopped the letter in the mailbox along with a letter to Phyruss and a stack of love letters she had written to Dora when she was drunk and sent that to Eiverlyn along with a letter for the elf herself. The orcess skipped away to her tent, happy as can be when in the shadow of an army transporting portal of cosmic death.

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Running. Interesting way to combat a lethal force of Kor'kron and Vindicators. Traditionally you stood to face your enemy. Traditionally there were no warlocks or demons either. Times change. She had left soon after. Not welcome among the warlocks. Not that she wanted to be there at all. She was there for him, that was all. He would return soon. He suspected training would move faster than preferred by the more experienced. It already had. When they fled the Citadel, they ordered him drain one of the wounded. He had. It felt good, sweet, powerful. It gave him more knowledge of the Fel. How to use it, how it could be used, what the dead thought of it. The fallen had planned to kill its brethren, unsurprisingly. Take their power and use it to go to Gul’dan. Only united would they be able to get to their master, or one if it had absorbed the rest. He now filled the fallen’s place. There were nine remaining, including him. They had been taken unawares previously. Unprepared for the ambush then, the Fel Reaver. They would be prepared this time. They knew the force, their capabilities. The Shadow Council had trained them well, however. Nine Shadow Council warlocks and their Naga allies against a force of thirty paladins, priests and Kor’kron. It would be a short fight. By his estimates the enemy would reach the Hand of Gul’dan in one week’s time. Time enough.


He had been dispatched with two others to Coilfang Reservoir to recruit what little Naga remained into their fold. Simple enough. Intelligent creatures, yes. Former Highbourne. Easily manipulated when their demonic masters were spoken of however. The Naga numbered in around fifty. Once, they might have been a challenge for the enemy but their armor was rusted, their weapons dull from years of no use. Expendable. They only needed time enough to prepare their spellwork and unleash it. Others had gone to Tempest Keep and the Forge Camps. Needed reagents for the gateway. They taught him what they could. The fallen spoke more of it. Filled his sleep with visions of glory. Detailed spells and bindings. Useful.

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