ORGRIMMAR TURN 3 RESULTS
Preparations were being made, caravans readied and forces assembled over the next few weeks as the Burning Blade prepared to march. It wasn't the whole clan but the arranging of supplies took time and about a hundred of you were to march off into the Barrens and Dreadmist Peak. As you understood it you father intended to make an inspection of several garrisons of the Burning Blade in the Barrens, most notably at the Peak, though potentially going as far as Ashenvale to discuss matters with agents in that area. Many rumours were flying around the Cleft of Shadow as the weeks went by and you intended to discuss the matter with your father in more detail in future.
Nazgrel = 34
First though you sought out Nazgrel again. You were successful in your last mission and you wanted to report back properly rather than just handing the items you'd taken from the goblin Darkstorm to one of his subordinates. You'd been told by Nazgrel's guards that he was busy earlier, but going up to the Valley of Wisdom now you find him available.
"Young warrior!" he greets you, apparently in rather a good mood as you salute.
Returning greeting you settled into an easy stance and began your report, describing the formation of your band, the approach you'd made to Thunder Ridge and the subsequent short battle you'd had with Darkstorm, reporting the whole truth and placing the truest success against the renegades with the harpies and the defectors which had weakened the band before you'd gotten there.
"It is to your credit that you tell me these things." Nazgrel remarks as you finish, "The mark of a good commander is not in success against high odds, but in appropriate reaction toward new events, this is what differentiates an orc with an axe from a general."
"My father commands me to accompany him to Dreadmist Peak in the Barrens." you continue, "I plan to organise those of the warband who survived so they might serve the Horde again, and I would ask whether there might be some way I can employ them against our foes in the Barrens?"
"Will your father have no duties for you?" Nazgrel asks, looking sceptical.
You try to assuage the opinion you see forming on his face, "I know there's much going on that I'm not aware of." you remark, "If there are foes I can set myself against which best meet the Warchief's wishes I'll do so, such is my purpose as a warrior and captain of a warband, I know the Horde battles against the centaur, the harpies, quillboar and others, but I don't know which is most pressing and I know I need to gain further experience before I'm worthy to lead larger parties." The further explanation seems to mollify the general, though you feel you've disappointed him somehow, yet you've no idea what you've done or said which has caused such a reaction.
"Very well," he replies, "Set yourself against the Kolkar. Of all the centaur tribes they are the ones who've menaced us the most, sending raiding parties against us and even crossing the river, they stream through the passes and although we kill hundreds of them more slip past us. They congregate around the various oases, find them and kill them if you can."
He raises a hand to dismiss you but you speak quickly, "I also ask for a teacher to educate me in tactics." you interrupt, swiftly explaining that while your father had been a warrior, he'd never led larger forces and your knowledge was lacking in this area. Nazgrel nods once and waves his hand, this time a clear dismissal which sends you away.
Before returning to the Cleft you stop by Kardris' hut, wanting to inform her of your journey given your ongoing training with her.
"I know of this place." she says after welcoming you in, "The Elements are disturbed there and it's the site of some great battle ages ago, I believe against the Burning Legion, which I imagine is why your clan has an interest there. Mountains are home to many spirits as I've taught you, firstly Earth, which forms their principal constituent, secondly air and fire which battle for supremacy around them and lastly water from the running streams and rivers that form as water flows down the slope. Consider this and continue the meditations I've taught you, if you consider yourself ready prepare a Sapta, I would suggest one to make a connection with the Spirit of Water. Also, consider well your own clan's traditions. I've taught you what I know, but from my learning from my own clan, you are not Shadowmoon and you shouldn't try to become so."
Training = 53,21
You thank her and nod and the next day you make your way to Akinos, again to make your apologies for departing given the ongoing training you've been taking with him.
"Oh I'll be coming with you." he replies lightly.
Your eyebrows rise in surprise, "Really? I thought the main part of the expedition was only the warlocks?"
"I'm being sent into Ashenvale as an emissary to the Kaldorei." the Blademaster replies, "I won't be telling you about what so don't ask."
You'd investigated Akinos further after you'd spoken to him previously and learnt that he'd been dispatched several times to Stormwind to negotiate on behalf of the Horde. He was apparently well enough known there that he was permitted to keep his sword as a mark of his honour, though some Orcs regarded peace with the Alliance as an inherently dishonourable thing and so while Akinos was well regarded in the Alliance he had a more mixed reputation in the Horde… rather like the Burning Blade in general you observed.
"I'm also accompanying you because Nazgrel's asked me to train you."
At that your face lights up, guile's never been your strong point and you'd wanted to spend more time with the Blademaster in any case, "I'll be glad to continue to learn from you then!" you remark, rather pleased. Clearly Nazgrel hadn't been as displeased as you'd originally thought if he's ordered Akinos to teach you and you look forward to it immensely. You've learnt much from him in the training yard and you know he commanded in the Third War.
As the heir of the clan it's your duty to learn not just how to fight, but how to command. Nazgrel knew it, Akinos knew it and so did you. You had little true experience in this area and mainly just knew the basics from growing up among the higher ranked warriors of your clan, meaning you were aware that one could feign retreat, how to divide forces or pin the enemy to strike at their back, but you'd never actually practiced these activities. As such over the next couple of weeks you spent a lot of time with the Blademaster, sometimes in the yard where he'd test you in some manner and show you how that applied to battles not just to duels, sometimes in discussion.
On one occasion he ordered you to try and get behind him to demonstrate the ease by which he simply turned to meet any attack and the difficulty an army would have trying to get behind an enemy force, but how by dividing your forces or distracting part of the enemy it was possible to triumph through manoeuvre.
While you learnt a great deal you perhaps thought you were learning less than you might. You simply didn't seem to grasp several elements till Akinos had explained it several times with different analogies and you began to grow frustrated.
"How can an army be injured?" Akinos asks during one of his questioning moods. "Consider it in the manner of a body, what would a strike to an army's head mean?"
That one was easy at least, "Decapitation, removal of the enemy command, killing of their leaders."
Akinos nods, "What about legs?"
"Killing the cavalry-"
"Wrong."
You dodged a swing, the Blademaster liked to spar with mind and sword at the same time, claiming this assisted in the learning process. You thought for a moment. "The legs allow movement." you said out loud, before realising where you might have been wrong, "Destruction of bridges or roads."
"Good enough!" Akinos darts forward, the hilt of his sword coming swiftly under your guard and crashing against your gut. "The stomach?"
You lie in the dirt, breathing heavily, dirt coating one side of your face as you consider the question.
Later Akinos takes you up a narrow path to the top of the central mesa of Orgrimmar. This is the mooring place of the goblin airships and you watch as the small creatures scurry about over their contraptions, then look out over the plains of Durotar to the south.
"You're doing better." Akinos remarks, "Sword and mind you're improving, but there are some things you simply don't understand yet."
You'd considered your own inadequacies for many years, but the old knot of shame still curled in your gut at his words. "What must I do?"
"Go out and fight, lead, win and lose." Akinos replies, "Training is good, but you're reaching a point where you simply need more practical experience, especially to refine your abilities with a sword."
"And in leadership?"
"That's more complicated." the older orc smiles, "I can teach you some things but not most. I was never trained as you'd call it. In Stormwind they train knights and officers for years and then send them out, sometimes with no actual experience. When I was growing up they sent me to the Blackrock and I led their bands against the Ogres, that was my training and I made many mistakes."
A time passes, you feel the cool night wind on your skin, the strength of the earth under you. Then Akinos speaks again: "If you commanded warriors in battle and surrounded the enemy on three sides what should be the next thing done?"
"Order warriors to encircle the enemy on the fourth side and destroy them."
"Wrong." Akinos says, "The goal of war is not to kill, but to win. Surrounding an enemy only means they'll fight all the more desperately. Leave the last side clear and the enemy will escape."
"But they'll simply regroup and return, more warriors will have died when instead you can advance on whatever stronghold they have and take it now the warriors are dead!" your retort comes out more strongly than you'd intended and you catch yourself, but only after you've already said it. Again the frustration comes at Akinos' way of teaching, always trying to catch you and wait for you to make a mistake before he corrects you.
You'd addressed your remarks to the air in front of you but you turn to see Akinos' eyes glinting in the night. "Do you want to be a Blademaster or a warlock?"
"A Blademaster of course!" and yet again the frustration is obvious in your voice.
"Then why speak of death and destruction? Why speak of killing and overtaking strongholds? If you've slaughtered the enemy what can be gained by slaying their women and children too?"
You don't reply this time, turning away from Akinos, your lip curling as you stare mutinously out into the night.
"It is impossible to kill an enemy. Have you learnt nothing from what I've taught you? Nothing from my tales of the old wars on Draenor? You can end a life but the cycle of hatred continues. We killed every Draenei we could find. The Warsong broke their lines, the Thunderlords tracked them down, the Burning Blade slew their champions… Every Draenei, every warrior, every shaman, every elder stooped with a cane, every crying child. We paved a Path of Glory from the Citadel to the Dark Portal, we paved it with the bones of our enemies. Gul'dan said it was necessary but we did it to demonstrate our victory over our enemies. Can you imagine how much death that took? Even then it wasn't done. We cheered as Gul'dan sacrificed the final remnants of their race. The Stair of Destiny he called it. I remember it was slick with blood beneath my boots. Durotan tried to stop Gul'dan… He failed, I was in the vanguard and we wrestled him down. Gul'dan had ripped the life out of thousands but there was one more, a child… Durotan screamed, struggled, shouted about how it was wrong and we were damning ourselves. The child didn't make a sound, not even when Gul'dan's blade went through her throat. I always thought that was strange."
You have no reply, listening in silence and the Blademaster speaks.
"This is the way of the Blademaster." Akinos continues, "Our way is not easy, but it is best. Our way is skill and discipline, not power or wealth, not death… Believe not in death but in life. There is no object more valuable. If your enemy lies defeated raise him up, let your spirits exhault together, not burn each other out in fruitless battle."
"Do you tell me this because you're ashamed? Because you don't want me to make the same mistakes?"
"I made no mistakes." Akinos replies, "I did my duty to my clan, I slew the enemies of my people. I tell you this because I want you to comprehend the price of the victory you seek. Leadership is not only about winning but what you do once you've won."
In the days that follow your conversation you feel a malaise creep over you. Was this why the Blademasters had disintegrated? You wanted them to be strong again, you wanted to stand among the heroes of your clan and cut down foes with a flaming sword. You'd wanted this all, but did you want it still? It was Akinos' comparison to warlocks that had shaken you the most.
What was the purpose of the Blademasters? To fight, that had been your previous thought, and in that implicitly to win, for why would one fight otherwise? What was the objective of the battle though? What did victory accomplish? To win was to triumph, to impose your will over the enemy and achieve whatever aims you had… But how did that differ from the philosophy of the warlocks? The ideals of your father, the respect for power and the acceptance of any actions taken to achieve this were central to the ideology of those who'd taken up the Fel. You'd considered it yourself, why not take the Fel, erase your weakness forever and make yourself truly worthy in your father's eyes, take on great strength… But that way of thinking was exactly the thinking that Akinos scorned, and likely other Blademasters.
It also made you consider your weapon. You could admit you'd used it as a crutch, wanting to play at being a blademaster but really just being an orc skilled in arms but without knowing the traditions Akinos had been teaching you, the stances and patterns of his order. Your father had once tried to train you in logic and you thought back to it now. What was the logical conclusion of such a weapon? Or rather, of its use? You imagined the ultimate sword, one that both strengthened the wielder and one which was enchanted to defeat any defence. In such a scenario the sword was the actor not the warrior. The warrior became merely the vessel for the sword's power. Was there any honour to be found with such a weapon? If you were willing to gain honour and rank through such a powerful thing then what was the point in learning the sword anyway? Why not simply turn fully to magic? Gul'dan had used no weapon as far as you knew, or at least none which had become famous through his use of it and none questioned the warlock's power.
What was the other side of the question? If a Blademaster held only a kitchen knife or a dull blade did that make them less powerful? Less skilled? It didn't seem so. Blademasters were masters of their blades, but while the blade was important it didn't define them in the same way. A Blademaster was skill and discipline as Akinos had said, the blade itself was merely a tool.
Warband organisation = 7
These are the thoughts that occupy you, or rather the ones that distract you as you go about another task before your departure, the organisation of your warband.
You try to implement some of Akinos' advice and what you remember from your father's words as you grew up but you simply don't seem to get through to them. They'd stayed because they knew you could give them a way back to rejoining Orcish society, tried to reinforce the idea that honour could be found in your service but they're discontent. One orc has risen among them and you've found this a mixed blessing, for while this orc has some experience of leadership his name is also a good description of his attitude:
"You speak of honour, yet what honour can be found among Demon worshippers?" Scorn replies in one of your familiar debates.
Scorn is a large orc, strong jawed, broad and powerful with a cunning glint in his eye. As you understand he led some of the raids ordered by Darkstorm.
"You served warlocks before, how was the honour in that service worth less than that which I offer you now?"
Scorn shrugs, "I sought freedom in Darkstorm's service. You offer servitude again, you seek to replace that freedom with your supposed honour, an unfair exchange if ever there was one."
Scorn is at least willing to listen to your orders but you also know he's doing so for his own interests and you know you'll have to be careful he doesn't just walk off into the Barrens with your warband while you're busy with some clan duties or similar.
Funerary rites = 80
In your pursuit both of honour and of proving to your band that your service might be beneficial you seek out Drek the Firecaller, one of the Pyremasters of the Burning Blade. You only took one loss in the battle, but the warrior was the first person to die under your command and while your father's indicated that the orc was too low ranked to normally merit the attentions of the Pyremasters you decide to seek out Drek to have him perform the relevant rites.
The first thing you notice about Drek is his eyes. They glow red, but not like the Fel fire of your father's eyes, instead the Firecaller seems to be lit from within. His skin is dark, almost like a Blackrock orc's and he wears ash-grey robes and leathers embroidered with red jewels. He bears neither the sword of a blademaster nor the staff of a warlock but instead merely a heavy looking dagger at his side.
"I have seen you in the flames, Grok'mash, son of Neeru." the Firecaller says at your approach, "Come."
You're slightly surprised but you follow Drek to one of the only places you've yet to go in your return to Orgrimmar, the caverns beneath the city.
You're aware there's significant activity under Orgrimmar by your clan and you know from your childhood that several of the caverns lead to tunnels that bypass the city gates. The caverns aren't anything special really you reflect, just more of the grey walls stained red by iron-rich water running through the rock. Within you see the walls have been daubed in places with strange runes, quite similar to some you've seen in the Flamebender's Tome and many orcs of your clan are going to and fro, some bearing the Searing Collars which some in your clan use to deepen their connection with the Elements.
Others are warlocks in the rich robes known among your clan and you notice none of them seems to be from other clans which makes you assume that all those in the caverns are members of the Burning Blade proper, rather than the outcasts of other clans.
As you go deeper Drek calls fire into his hand and holds it aloft to light your way until you reach a deeper cavern, this one with smooth, straight walls which again surprises you.
"Who made these?"
Drek turns slight to see what you're pointing at but then shakes his head "We don't know, there are burrowing creatures down here which we've fought occasionally but none which show the craft necessary for this."
"What creatures?" you hadn't been aware of any under Orgrimmar.
"We just call them the Burrowers." Drek replies, "It's possible we might encounter some. If we do don't let them get close or they'll choke the life out of you, they have a hard, rocky skin but they fear fire so use your sword or go for their eyes."
Eventually the Firecaller leads you to a wide cavern lit by several braziers. They burn without fuel or smoke and the inside is simultaneously shadowy and well lit, dancing between the two.
There Drek speaks of old Draenor before the warlocks and war, before even the Draenei arrived in their stellar fortresses, of how the pyremasters of the Horde would purify and cleanse the spirits of their charges through fire, burning away impurity and weakness and allowing the spirit to soar free. You spend several days with him in that strange cavern and he explains that he's only telling you about his abilities because you're going to be chief one day and that otherwise his practices are a secret. The Pyremasters, he explains, develop a connection with the destructive nature of fire and you wonder if they aren't like a sort of specialised shaman as many of the abilities he demonstrates appear to be similar. For one, Drek can call up burning spirits held in the gems he wears on his person, or speak with ashes he keeps in pots and learn the secrets of the people they used to be. As he explains it he derives a certain power from the cremation of certain more powerful individuals as he's able to use a portion of a departing spirit's potency after a burning in return for ensuring it passes on rather than lingering. He doesn't deal specifically with spirits, but rather with the imprint they leave behind on the world and on the ashes their shells are reduced to.
You assist him in a number of ways, primarily in creating or combining certain reagents and unguents for the coming ritual, though if you're honest you don't really help him that much as he refuses to allow you to participate in certain preparations which are apparently secret. You do however learn a lot about the Pyremasters as an order. Though most of them are of your clan they aren't specific to the Burning Blade and are distributed across the Horde, though like the Blademasters you gather their tradition is fading away as well. From Drek, as you'd heard from Kardris, the Spirits are somehow different, in particular more bellicose. Apparently many of the heroes of the First and Second Wars died without being burned, either because the Pyremasters weren't present or because the bodies of the chiefs couldn't be recovered, including those of the two previous warchiefs, Blackhand and Doomhammer, neither of which were burned for different reasons, the first with Doomhammer refusing to allow it as a final insult against his predecessor, and the second because there were no Pyremasters present.
Indeed you reflect that unlike the Blademasters you can't muster up the same sort of sorrow at the idea of the Pyremasters fading away. You were almost entirely unaware of their existence, but you reflect that their position in society is now occupied by Thrall's newest generation of shaman. You also reflect that the magics of the Pyremasters are not unlike those of the warlocks, especially in that both are concerned with sacrifice, though what they do with that sacrifice depends on the tradition.
The funeral itself is successful, or at least Drek considers it so. You assemble your warband as well as those who accompanied you to take on Darkstorm and speak to them, stating the value you place on fellowship on the battlefield and away from it, describing the importance of discipline and fraternity, and telling them you'll be a fair leader.
Overall they don't seem impressed. Those already of the clan make their salutes and depart swiftly to their other duties while those you've taken leadership of depart as well. Scorn approaches you, the last remaining:
"You speak well for a boy." he remarks, "But a boy you are and while you remain so no warrior will listen to you."
Filial duties = 71
The last thing you wanted to do before you departed for Dreadmist Peak was properly talk to your father.
It's not that you've necessarily avoided him, but you've also been looking into a variety of other matters and to an extent you've ignored his orders to consult him. It hasn't been intentional, but you do realise when considering the matter that you've also tried to do things for yourself to prove you can be independent rather than relying on the clan leader all the time. While you feel you've sometimes been successful in this you also know you've hit problems which you perhaps didn't need to and perhaps showed weakness when doing so.
You seek out your father to remedy this and spend several days with him, both simply interacting and seeing how he busies himself, but also in consulting him to consider some of the issues you've been wondering about. Firstly there's the matter of the clan itself, the Blademasters and the warlocks and severeal other matters.
"I think the clans are fading away." he remarks after your speech. "You are young and have no memory of the clans of old, but each one had warriors, shaman, crafters and hunters all. None were made solely of one or another of those categories except in usual circumstances. The Shattered Hand were one exception because they were all escaped slaves, and a few others had more of one or another profession like the Thunderlords needing more hunters because their main enemies were the Gronn rather than other orcs. The Shadowmoon always had many shaman because of the Dark Star above them, or the Blackrock having many smiths. Such is always the way of things but then Blackhand changed things. He ordered the clans to specialise in one way or another and the clans became changed. You do not know whether this is good or bad, nor do I… But in the modern Horde most officers are Blackrock, most shaman Frostwolf, most warlocks Burning Blade. You might consider it to be all one clan, one Orcish Horde, or you mgiht consider us to be like the human kingdoms.
"But there were several kingdoms?" you interrupt, "I know they had different strengths, Kul Tiras for seafaring for example."
"That's true," your father says, "But no other kingdom tried to build a navy, the Proudmoores were the Admirals of the alliance just as I am the Grand Warlock of the Horde. All the human mages were trained at Dalaran, or at least the vast majority anyway, and all the Paladins were members of the Silver Hand. Compare this to our position. Lesser traditions are erased, this is true, weaker traditions, more subtle ones, more complex ones, but from them rises a stronger, more unified understanding of all our arts. The Thunderlords of old knew how to hunt gronn, now they know how to hunt gronn, to train wolves, to fight in jungles, deserts and tundra. If their gronn-hunting is diminished because of this wider knowledge is that so bad?"
You think back to Kardris' remarks on the specific ways shamanism was practiced among the different clans and find yourself agreeing.
"What of the Blademasters?"
Neeru chuckles, "This is your affair. I honour them and their traditions but I have much to do without trying to gather them all up again."
"But what would you do if you wanted to revive their order?"
Your father's smiling still, "Very well, I'd take them and the clan away somewhere away from the Warchief and make war. Given them tests of skill against a variety of enemies, give them the ability and opportunity to grow again. You're not blind, you know I disapprove of Thrall's policies… He tries to balance being a general and a shaman and succeeds at neither… You'd need a war, or perhaps not war but at least regular conflict to preserve them. That was Jubei'thos intended I think, I wasn't chief then but I can guess that much. It's always been clear we need some way of fighting enemy spellcasters and previously that way was the Blademasters. Other clans would seek their services against enemies but Thrall refuses to do so. He insulted us, then tries to replace us with his Battle Shaman. It is a perversion of a shaman's duty…"
As your father's inclined to talk you let him continue as he lectures extensively but often without direction on the different magics of the First War, how the orcs had tried to use necromancy but how the Scourge had perfected the art, how the humans had created their paladins to create a martial spellcaster in the same way as the Blademasters had presented, as well as his opinions on the proper place of shaman and the importance of separating the offices of Elder Shaman and Warchief. Some were academic opinions, some political, but you found it immensely interesting all the same.
The next day you speak of the Fel.
"What is it?"
The question is simple, but you want a clear understanding before proceeding.
"Destruction." he replies simply. "The Fel is the result of Light and Void's battle across the universe, the embodiment of entropy, not necessarily death, but rather destruction, the warping and changing of that which is natural." he holds up his clawed hand as a demonstration. "As a magic it's akin to several others, but it requires sacrifice, sometimes your own blood or similar, but for the most part other lives, other energy. Principally its used to destroy but it can also be used to strengthen, though the forms of this strength are sometimes not to the liking of those who receive it."
"I thought you told me it couldn't be used to construct or ward?"
"That's true, but all magic is energy and the Fel is no different. Fire heats water and cooks food, yet fire is still a destructive force not a creative one. Is soup inherently evil?"
You're both eating at that moment as you talk and you duck your head and smirk as your spoon scrapes the bottom of your bowl.
"The humans and the elves use magic with control and concentration. Comparably warlocks use magic by drawing it from the spirits of others or from the world around them and directing it by force of their own will, in this way warlocks are stronger than mages for they rely on their own will, rather than their ability to recite formulae."
"And there are many parts of the Fel? The fire, shadow?"
"They're linked but not the same." your father shakes his head, "Some warlocks concentrate on one or the other. Fire is the easiest of the Elements to twist using the Fel, shadow is the place between light and darkness and has its own relation. If you ask a human and an elf how they perform magic the answer will be the same because they practice the same tradition, comparably if you ask a group of warlocks all will have different answers. Personally, I employ demons to do my bidding and use Fel in this manner, but others employ different magics. Gul'dan was perhaps the only true masters of the Fel, others are merely trying to retrace his steps and in turn the steps of the Burning Legion."
You think back to your considerations about taking the energy yourself, "You've spoken before about granting me this power, how would this be done and what are its effects?"
"It would depend on how it was granted." your father replies, "Firstly, to certain orcs, notably Blackhand, Gul'dan granted the Fel directly. I would pass energy into your body and it would strengthen you. Blackhand grew taller and more powerful, some have taken on other qualities," he taps one nail-claw on the side of his bowl, "But the stronger you are the stronger you become. You know of the Eredar and how they are truly the same people as the Draenei?"
You nod, you have enough understanding of demons to know that much.
"The Eredar were made powerful by the Fel, they were greater in all ways, in stature, physical ability, magical prowess and other things than the Draenei who denied Sageras. Later on Draenor we set a cursed mist against the last bastion of the Draenei, Shattrath. Gul'dan made it and called it up and it changed the Draenei, they were corrupted into a debased form and exiled by any of their kind that survived the mist. We often found bands of these Lost Ones wandering, driven to madness by their state. These two cases represent examples of how the Fel has effected a people. In our case most orcs drunk a spring corrupted by the blood of the Pitlord Magtheridon, only the chiefs drunk from the cup of the blood that Gul'dan offered and Hellscream was the first. That's the cause of the green skin we bear. As you take on more of the Fel it changes you further, I heard tell of an elf who took on great power and grew great horns and wings, though I never saw him myself."
He pauses for a moment to finish his soup. "We have no such Pitlord among us, so I'd grant you the Fel in the same manner as Gul'dan did, using myself as a conduit. This reduces any negative effects but at the least expect your tusks to grow larger and your skin to darken. Blackhand's hand became like a claw as one example, as have my own, but in return you'll gain great strength, there'll be a fire in your veins that will give you power."
"And by taking the Fel would I be able to control it?"
"No, not quite. For that I'd grant you the Burning Wish…" In his hand there appears a flame, a dancing green light that plays across his fingers. "Of the Forgers that made our people Sargeras was their chief and the most powerful among them, his son was Grond from whose flesh our people crawled and he fought the Forgers' battles among the stars to push back the void and bring order. He battled too long in places of darkness and corruption and became corrupted himself, he released demons that he'd imprisoned in his campaigns and led them in his Burning Crusade. To use the Fel you must behold the Fel as he beheld it, this is the Burning Wish."
"Does it not corrupt as it did Sargeras?"
"No." your father replies, "All warlocks are granted power in this manner. Some fall further it is true, but the majority do not. Only the weak fall."
And your father knows well that you intend to prove yourself strong.
You speak of several other things on different occasions but the discussions are less impactful than those before. Your father can read the human tongue but he's no expert on their magic, nor was he ever trained as a shaman so can't advise you to do anything specific with the captured elemental other than to drain its power as Gul'dan had with the Fel… which you didn't have and was somewhat of a hint by your father.
On another day your father draws you aside to speak with you again, "You shouldn't have the impression the Fel is only good for destruction. I've told you it can't ward or build but its energy grants strength. After we took the Fel neither children nor their mothers died in the birthing bed, Draka, the mother of Thrall, was weakened by her journey through the Dark Portal as many of the Frostwolves who hadn't taken drunk the Pitlord's blood were and although it isn't spoken of nowadays Thrall was born dead, it was only Gul'dan breathing the Fel into him that gave him life. He was one of the first Orcs born on Azeroth and that's why his skin is as green as the rest of us. When you were born I would have done the same for you but your mother made me swear not to, this oath I've kept even as you've grown, but she would have wanted you to be strong. She was a stubborn woman and-" He cuts himself off, not realising that he's speaking on a subject you've never heard him refer to, that of your mother. You don't remember her at all, or perhaps only a flash of affection but you know she died when you were young. Sadness has come over your father's face and he shakes his head and turns away back to the tent, shrugging off the comforting hand you try to lay on his shoulder.
Your discussions have given you much to think about, but they'll be plenty of time for that soon enough and in a few short days you're on the road south and then west, heading over the Southfury river onto the rolling plains and savannah of the Barrens.
-x-
And its off to the Barrens. You got some skill bonuses this turn for various things but its incremental progress rather than specifics. You're also at the stage where simply training a skill rather than using it will give less bonuses to things like tactics or weapon handling.
I've put a lot of work into setting things up in this chapter and had a lot of discussion etc. It's up to you as the readers to reflect on it, which represents Grok'mash's internal monologue and considerations. Through your thoughts and posts you present ideas in the narrative as you're the ones 'playing' the character. As such I encourage discussion.
Also I'm disinclined to write out all the stuff a pyremaster can do as narrative so I've been fairly brief in that section of the update. I thought about having a quick fight with a Trogg or something but decided against it. They're interesting but pretty weird, there's a list of their spells and stuff online which is pretty easy to find so if you're interested have a look and let me know if you want me to weigh in about any lore points.
