The March of Forneus 10
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The March of Forneus 10
The next few days are filled with… well not much actually. Despite your half-hearted protestations you know you're badly injured and spent most of your time in bed. The clan had received you well, your father making your contribution clear and the warlocks and blademasters making their submission known. You would have spent more time accepting the accolades but you were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you went back into the tent and fell asleep soon after, awakening briefly in the early hours of the morning but then passing against in unconsciousness. After that one of father's demons brought you food, a rather unnerving experience when a platter floats toward you and a looming shadow haunts the edge of your vision while you eat.
You father is busy, visiting you a few times and speaking little of his own doings but going about between the different parties in the Cleft. The Shattered Hand have returned and the new faces are still here including a few you recognise from other places. Mankrik, the blademaster who'd supposedly gone off to start a family in the Barrens, scowls at you before averting his eyes when a blademaster you don't recognise taps him on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear.
You sit outside, cradling the Fireblade in your lap, furs around your shoulders as you watch the clan… your clan…
It's during this vigil that you're presented with a bizarre pair of petitioners.
"Greetings, young blademaster." remarks Sesk as he sidles up to you. Ishi is there as well and you wonder if they're long lost twins.
They sit with you making small talk and then turn the conversation to philosophy, neither subtle in their remarks. Indeed you find it almost a mirror of Thrall's speech. Sesk describes the great strength he found in the Fel, Ishi asking him about the 'smith' who had granted him a 'new sword' at some point in the past which the blademaster had used to best his enemies. Ishi in his own narrative describes a time when the Blackrock orcs supposedly developed some new weapon which spread through the clans of Draenor and allowed them to bring down the Ogres of Highmaul.
"I think you might find better results with Falling Sun rather than Fleeing Cloud." you remark when they both appear to have run out of energy to maintain their farce, referencing two techniques of the sword with opposite subtly.
Sesk scowls, "We are warriors not poets."
"It was told to us that you enjoyed philosophy." Ishi continues after his comrade.
You raise your eyebrows. There could of course be only one person with both the power to compel the two blademasters and the desire to have you take the Fel.
"What does my father hope to achieve by this?"
Sesk's scowl does not abate. "If you meet Jubei'thos again he will kill you. Even with that." he motions to your new sword.
Ishi nods, "You've come far, we've spoken with Ronak and a few others and they all say your performance has been exemplary, but you don't have the experience or the skill to meet someone like Jubei'thos in battle. You could train for years and still not manage it, and besides there are dangers uncounted in the wide world. You don't have the experience, you don't have the skill… but you could have the strength."
You considered the matter. The Kolkar had no skilled warriors among them and you'd cut through them relatively easily with your blade. They had been significantly larger and more powerful than you, especially the dozen or so chief's you'd fought, but you'd used your greater speed and more powerful weapon to strike true. You would see the truth in Ishi's explanation, as well as the blunter statement of Sesk.
"And if you're planning to say something about the Spirits then don't bother." Sesk points out, "I once did a favour for Gul'dan and he infused me with his death magic, yet the Spirits still answer my call when I command them." and as demonstration he clenches his fist in a display of power, flames briefly issuing from it.
You frown. Clearly your father had pre-empted many of your criticisms and briefed the pair before he'd sent them.
"And what of the effects on the mind?" you ask, "The Warsong drank deep of Manneroth's essence and bathed themselves in blood. Akinos taught me that the mind was one more edge of the blade and never to lose myself in battle."
Sesk shifts in his seat, "My one goal in life is to kill my brother, yet I am still when he rest not fifty feet from me."
His words are bitter, the resentment and anger clear in his voice, yet he speaks true, completely unlike the stories you'd heard about him.
"I heard you've been wandering the Barrens murdering travellers to sate your rage." you reply in accusation.
"No death in battle is murder." comes the failure to deny.
The pair have exhausted their arguments and the conversation turns to minor matters for a time. You learn that your father has been gathering the wandering blademasters to him, though what inducements and promises have been necessary for this accomplishment are beyond you. If nothing else he must have promised them war, battles and foes worthy enough to match their skill. There were more of them than you thought and you hear many names as the pair talk that you don't know. Ishi tells you the stories of some of the new faces, pointing them out and gesturing to a few and you slowly realise that within the Cleft of Shadow now there must be one of the greatest gatherings of martial skill in the world with veterans and neophytes both, even blind Master Ronak.
"We have business to attend to tonight." Ishi says in the end, "You father told us to speak to you on the issue, we have done so, we leave it to you to decide."
"I thank you for your explanation." you remark cordially, thinking it best to do so given the blademasters' efforts on the matter. If nothing else they'd done their duty to their clan chief, even if it seemed they weren't best placed for it.
"Akinos was the best of us. In speech, and aye, in bladework. Sorrow for the loss of your mentor." Sesk says, then makes a salute, fist touching his bare breast.
You consider their words that night, then speak to your father in the morning.
As far as you can reckon it, with your father channelling his power into you and granting you the Burning Wish you'll become at least as strong as the strongest orc, if not more so. Years ago your trainers had remarked upon your ability to control the bloodrage common to all Orcs, and you didn't doubt your father was skilled enough to grant the power if he was offering it. For all his faults he had your best interests in mind, no matter how clumsily he went about promoting them. The Fel was the promise of power. That was the attraction, the same attraction that had damned your people to the Legion's service…
Which of course was the detriment. Power had a price. 'Everything' Gul'dan had supposedly told Grommash of the Warsong when he asked the price of the Fel, yet the chief had still drunk.
The Fel was also horror, evil made manifest. That had been made quite clear to you atop Dreadmist Peak in that howling rain of blood before the Ur'zuhl. Even if it made you powerful it would make you a horror and at best many you met would be suspicious of you, if not openly hostile.
After reflecting you make your decision regarding the Fel:
[ ] Take the Fel
[ ] Refuse the Fel
The next few days are filled with… well not much actually. Despite your half-hearted protestations you know you're badly injured and spent most of your time in bed. The clan had received you well, your father making your contribution clear and the warlocks and blademasters making their submission known. You would have spent more time accepting the accolades but you were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you went back into the tent and fell asleep soon after, awakening briefly in the early hours of the morning but then passing against in unconsciousness. After that one of father's demons brought you food, a rather unnerving experience when a platter floats toward you and a looming shadow haunts the edge of your vision while you eat.
You father is busy, visiting you a few times and speaking little of his own doings but going about between the different parties in the Cleft. The Shattered Hand have returned and the new faces are still here including a few you recognise from other places. Mankrik, the blademaster who'd supposedly gone off to start a family in the Barrens, scowls at you before averting his eyes when a blademaster you don't recognise taps him on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear.
You sit outside, cradling the Fireblade in your lap, furs around your shoulders as you watch the clan… your clan…
It's during this vigil that you're presented with a bizarre pair of petitioners.
"Greetings, young blademaster." remarks Sesk as he sidles up to you. Ishi is there as well and you wonder if they're long lost twins.
They sit with you making small talk and then turn the conversation to philosophy, neither subtle in their remarks. Indeed you find it almost a mirror of Thrall's speech. Sesk describes the great strength he found in the Fel, Ishi asking him about the 'smith' who had granted him a 'new sword' at some point in the past which the blademaster had used to best his enemies. Ishi in his own narrative describes a time when the Blackrock orcs supposedly developed some new weapon which spread through the clans of Draenor and allowed them to bring down the Ogres of Highmaul.
"I think you might find better results with Falling Sun rather than Fleeing Cloud." you remark when they both appear to have run out of energy to maintain their farce, referencing two techniques of the sword with opposite subtly.
Sesk scowls, "We are warriors not poets."
"It was told to us that you enjoyed philosophy." Ishi continues after his comrade.
You raise your eyebrows. There could of course be only one person with both the power to compel the two blademasters and the desire to have you take the Fel.
"What does my father hope to achieve by this?"
Sesk's scowl does not abate. "If you meet Jubei'thos again he will kill you. Even with that." he motions to your new sword.
Ishi nods, "You've come far, we've spoken with Ronak and a few others and they all say your performance has been exemplary, but you don't have the experience or the skill to meet someone like Jubei'thos in battle. You could train for years and still not manage it, and besides there are dangers uncounted in the wide world. You don't have the experience, you don't have the skill… but you could have the strength."
You considered the matter. The Kolkar had no skilled warriors among them and you'd cut through them relatively easily with your blade. They had been significantly larger and more powerful than you, especially the dozen or so chief's you'd fought, but you'd used your greater speed and more powerful weapon to strike true. You would see the truth in Ishi's explanation, as well as the blunter statement of Sesk.
"And if you're planning to say something about the Spirits then don't bother." Sesk points out, "I once did a favour for Gul'dan and he infused me with his death magic, yet the Spirits still answer my call when I command them." and as demonstration he clenches his fist in a display of power, flames briefly issuing from it.
You frown. Clearly your father had pre-empted many of your criticisms and briefed the pair before he'd sent them.
"And what of the effects on the mind?" you ask, "The Warsong drank deep of Manneroth's essence and bathed themselves in blood. Akinos taught me that the mind was one more edge of the blade and never to lose myself in battle."
Sesk shifts in his seat, "My one goal in life is to kill my brother, yet I am still when he rest not fifty feet from me."
His words are bitter, the resentment and anger clear in his voice, yet he speaks true, completely unlike the stories you'd heard about him.
"I heard you've been wandering the Barrens murdering travellers to sate your rage." you reply in accusation.
"No death in battle is murder." comes the failure to deny.
The pair have exhausted their arguments and the conversation turns to minor matters for a time. You learn that your father has been gathering the wandering blademasters to him, though what inducements and promises have been necessary for this accomplishment are beyond you. If nothing else he must have promised them war, battles and foes worthy enough to match their skill. There were more of them than you thought and you hear many names as the pair talk that you don't know. Ishi tells you the stories of some of the new faces, pointing them out and gesturing to a few and you slowly realise that within the Cleft of Shadow now there must be one of the greatest gatherings of martial skill in the world with veterans and neophytes both, even blind Master Ronak.
"We have business to attend to tonight." Ishi says in the end, "You father told us to speak to you on the issue, we have done so, we leave it to you to decide."
"I thank you for your explanation." you remark cordially, thinking it best to do so given the blademasters' efforts on the matter. If nothing else they'd done their duty to their clan chief, even if it seemed they weren't best placed for it.
"Akinos was the best of us. In speech, and aye, in bladework. Sorrow for the loss of your mentor." Sesk says, then makes a salute, fist touching his bare breast.
You consider their words that night, then speak to your father in the morning.
As far as you can reckon it, with your father channelling his power into you and granting you the Burning Wish you'll become at least as strong as the strongest orc, if not more so. Years ago your trainers had remarked upon your ability to control the bloodrage common to all Orcs, and you didn't doubt your father was skilled enough to grant the power if he was offering it. For all his faults he had your best interests in mind, no matter how clumsily he went about promoting them. The Fel was the promise of power. That was the attraction, the same attraction that had damned your people to the Legion's service…
Which of course was the detriment. Power had a price. 'Everything' Gul'dan had supposedly told Grommash of the Warsong when he asked the price of the Fel, yet the chief had still drunk.
The Fel was also horror, evil made manifest. That had been made quite clear to you atop Dreadmist Peak in that howling rain of blood before the Ur'zuhl. Even if it made you powerful it would make you a horror and at best many you met would be suspicious of you, if not openly hostile.
After reflecting you make your decision regarding the Fel:
[ ] Take the Fel
[ ] Refuse the Fel
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