(Besides, what if we roll very bad and the 2 spirits of fire tear the sword apart and we lose both? Now, that would be a funny setback)
Ha ha
On a more serious note, yes you did roll pretty badly, though not that badly considering the grand scheme of things. I would encourage more discussion such as that above given that many plans rely on a lot of assumptions, several of which have been incorrect so far.
Turn 6 Results
Battling the Fire Elemental
Meditation = 37 (27+10 for Fire Affinity)
Elemental's power = 36
Confrontation = 14 (3+11 for duelling bonuses)
Plans you'd had, and plans you'd made and though in the moment your actions had seemed sensible you had no idea that you'd regret them in time.
It started reasonably well.
Having considered what you needed to do you set out south the morning after you arrived in Razor Hill. You pack light, taking your sword, some rations and a Sapta. You choose to seek out the Spirit of Fire first as you're more familiar with it from your studies and attempts at the unique divination of your clan.
There were various places you'd considered that might house a Fire Elemental, with actual fires being the most obvious, but rather than any of the locations around the town you decide on a more unique setting. You walk a few miles down the road to a lightning struck tree a little way to the side of the road, it's split down to the roots, the two sides broken open, one leaning to the right, the other trailing in the red dirt. The tree, its corpse rather, was utterly dry, bark cracked and every leaf gone.
Lightning was not precisely fire but it struck, burned and destroyed like fire, energy crashing down in an instant. Lightning was brief, but you hoped such a violent and obvious sign of the constant battles between the Elemental Planes would create a powerful Elemental of Fire.
You were wrong. You felt it almost from the moment you arrived at the tree. It simply felt… dead. The sun beat down and you felt sweat dripping down your face. The Sapta of Fire coursed through your veins, roiled in your stomach, burnt down your throat. You didn't so much feel as remember the tree on fire, how its sap had popped and fizzled, the living wood hissing as it burnt. The lightning had been fast, too fast for the world to remember it as anything other than a flash before death.
You sit for hours beneath the lightning-struck tree, mediating as your Tome instructs. All the elements have different appearances and willingness to commune with shaman, with Fire being eager, but also ephemeral. Not as flighty as Wind, not as reliable as Water's tides and flows, and certainly not as patient as Earth, but still there. The Flamebender's Tome described it in simple terms, comparing the Spirit of Fire to a wolf, ever hungry and therefore fairly easy to provoke into confrontation.
Eventually, your spirit beckoning it closer you feel something approach. Your hair stands on end, the air grows heavy around you and you hear small pops and fizzles. You perceive it before you open your eyes fully, a minor manifestation of fire, inside the tree in front of you.
It burns along the tree's edges, or rather, it seems to you the memory of it does. Is this fire some remembrance, a sort of elemental child of the previous fire that had hollowed out and split the tree? Possibly, but it didn't matter in truth and you rose, taking up Baneshadow's sword as you did. Now was the time of battle.
The fire coursed through your veins again, heat throbbing in your chest as the Firechild drew itself away from its home, out into the air before you.
For a moment you stand in wonder. The Sapta has opened your senses to the Elements, especially minor manifestations like the Firechild, but you'd still never seen anything like the Elemental roiling and dancing in the air before you. It's strange, alien even, a remnant of a thing so different to yourself as to be unknowable and its only with your research using the Tome that you know what to do next.
Baneshadow's sword cuts through the air, blade blazing, sundering the Elemental in half easily, but just as easily it reforms, the surface of the Firechild's body, such that it is, boiling wildly. Another cut, and again it reforms as soon as your sword passes through it, though this time again the Elemental does so even more agitated than it did before. You make to strike a third time, ready to keep cutting till the Elemental's strength is spent reforming itself, but before you do it rushes at you, the blaze growing to a fierce hiss, coming under your guard, charging in and passing over and through you, sending a startled cry, then a scream as you fall to the floor, clutching at your body, sword falling from weak hands.
Your chest is on fire, your clothes smoulder, leathers smoking but you writhe in the dirt, fists clenched, coughing and sucking in lung fulls of hot dry air, trying to cool the heat inside you.
Clenched, streaming eyes open and you grasp your sword's hilt in the dirt, the creak of the handle centring you. Struggling up, clothing still smoking you turn, just in time to dodge the Firechild as it rushes in again.
This time in only clips you and you manage to keep hold of your sword as heat surges through your arm as if your bones were glowing red under your skin.
Your heart thunders in your ears and you can only draw on the practiced rage that's always favoured you, mastering your emotion and preparing again to strike at the Firechild. The hot ache has faded quickly and while you rub at your chest, slowly circling around the amorphous fiery presence before you it now only feels as if you've drunk boiling water rather than molten metal, it's a fiery pain, a throbbing of burns, but you struggle through it.
The Firechild rushes on you again and you meet it, cleaving it in half, the fire harmlessly passing over your shoulders and around you this time, Baneshadow's sword blazing itself, sapping the life out of the Elementa. Each time the Firechild comes at you to attack it takes time to reform intself after, but each time you chip away at it, burn away at it, weakening it more and more.
But it just keeps coming, clumsily certainly, slowly, and more slowly over time, but still it comes, the time it takes to reform growing with each strike you make. You lip curls, heart still pounding but this time in anger rather than pain. Your eyes narrow, smoke in your nostrils and on your tongue as you cut the Elemental again, knuckles growing white from your grip on the sword.
You don't speak, you realised from the start that this Elemental was too minor to have any of the sentience attributed to those of greater power. Instead after sundering the Flamechild's form for what seems like the hundreth time you stride toward the tree instead, plunging your sword with all your strength into the firebitten wood, willing the power of the sword to come forth, fire blazing on your blade as the tree pops and screams,. The Firechild screams behind you, a strange crackling warble and you ignore the heat on your back and the ache in your chest as channel your rage through your sword into the Firechild's home.
The screaming continues, a fizzing all around you as you stand inside the burnt out tree. You rage protects you, face contorted in a rictus of fury, channelling the power you have through your blade, burning away the Elemental's connection to the Firelands, burning away the memory of the storm and the lightning.
Finally something breaks and the screaming stops, the fire around your blade dying away in the same instant.
The wood of the tree finally gives out, your sword falling from the wound you'd made in a plume of ash that stains your boots black.
It was a victory perhaps, but the scowl on your face and the ache in your chest are the only spoils you take back to Razor Hill.
Binding the Fire Elemental
Research = 26 (24+2 for research)
Binding attempt = 15 (5+10 for Earth Affinity)
Item creation = 28
The Firechild had been a weak elemental, the memory of one stronger perhaps, but possessing none of the independent action a greater Elemental would, barely even the sentience necessary to perceive it was under attack.
In the next few days you spent you time recovering from your battle and proceeding with the next steps of the plan.
The ache in your chest continued, but you felt the injury was more to your spirit than your body and after a few days the pain passed. In the meantime you poured over the Flamebender's Tome. You'd felt no connection with anything left behind by the Firechild after its true death and you assumed it was simply too minor of a spirit to have a physical attribute or anchor. The Tome indicated that such an anchor would be clear to any shaman yet you'd felt nothing, even with the Sapta coursing through you.
Worse than that your sword had stopped responding to your commands. Baneshadow's Sword had been forged on Draenor before its destruction, a jagged and unlovely thing of black metal, possibly the famous Blackrock ore. You knew from your research that it had a minor elemental bound within it, just as you'd intended to do to the Firechild. No longer it seemed, for when you bade the fire rise as you had in battles past the sword remained inert, not even reluctant to respond but apparently unable to.
Again you sought answers in the Flamebender's Tome. You found little specific there and even started to grow angry as you read on, the constant digressions into languages unfamiliar to you and the generally poor organisation of the book leaving you with half-answers at best.
You conclude that the two Elementals, the one in your sword and the Firechild, had essentially killed each other, each not having enough strength or spiritual potency to do anything but burn out against the other. Worse than that, the sword itself was fashioned specifically to bear an elemental and therefore wasn't especially good as a mundane weapon, being poorly balanced with dimensions which you knew would prevent any ground edge from staying on the blade for a decent time without its now destroyed enchantment. It was too heavy to carry at your side so you knew you'd either be forced to use it as it was for the moment or otherwise leave it aside and carry another weapon in battle instead.
You'd hoped the Fire Elemental would somehow strengthen the power of the sword, but perhaps the metal or some other aspect of its construction were just too poor quality to allow for this? It certainly would have been better if either of the Elementals had survived, consuming the other's power. At least then you'd have been left with either a more powerful blade or a fiery token.
Meditating on your connection to the Spirit of Fire (+10 to all)
Meditation = 24
Ability power = 100
Ability utility = 54
You hadn't wanted to believe your conclusions and you'd hoped you still be able to sense at least something of the blade, a memory of Fire as the Firechild had been to the Lightning-struck tree.
Days were spent in meditation, a fire burning before you, sword across your lap. Over time you did seem to feel something, a slight warmness to the blade, a feeling in your chest and other such strangeness.
You meditated on the Spirit of Fire, on its aspects, its strengths and characteristics. Fire destroyed certainly, yet it also represented industry, aid, energy and numerous other aspects.
You'd considered your previous experiences, concentrating on fire as an aspect of balance. Fire represented a careful balance between destruction and creation, the forces in opposition yet interdependent. Fire couldn't survive without fuel and ignition, yet without fire those elements wouldn't ever be transformed as they were when aflame.
Shaman had told you on several occasions that the Elements required patience and wisdom and you hoped meditating on this aspect would assist you, yet once again you failed. Even when holding the image of balance, a carefully controlled fire, in your mind you barely felt anything from the sword.
Instead your frustration grew. Fear of exile, fear of weakness, anger for the future and the bloodrage, the simmering in your veins you'd heard described by many older orcs fill your senses. The mental image changes from a controlled fire to a blaze, raging and consuming and before you the sword bursts into fire again, a deep angry red flame.
In the following days instead of balance you meditate not on Fire's balance but rather its rage. In time you can call on the Spirit of Fire again, briefly, not as consistently as you'd once called on the sword, seemingly exchanging increased potency for reliability. You'd mastered your rage before, but now you contested with a new rage…
The Rage of the Firelands.
Battling the Earth Elemental
Meditation = 44 (36+8 for Earth Affinity)
Elemental's power= 83
Confrontation = 14 (3+11 for duelling bonuses)
Earth was next, and this time you promised it would be different.
You'd considered the canyons to the north as well as other places which might be strong with the Earth, but instead you decide on a nearby mountain, not massively tall or broad. As far as you knew from asking around the town the mountain had no name, merely one of the many lieutenants of the Stonetalons to the west inland. This mountain stood alone, proud in its own way, its red rock somehow stark against the constant redness of the rest of Durotar.
Sword in hand you struggled up the slope, over boulder and scree, pulling yourself upward, the Sapta of Earth sitting like the rock it was in your stomach.
Your spirit leads you onward, further up till you reach a small hollow in the mountain near its peak. There stands a larger bounder leaning against the rest of the mountain, smaller bounders all around it, seeming to slump toward it, perhaps even to bow.
Here you know a more powerful elemental rests, tied to its home, resisting the advances of air, resisting the tides that gnaw at its roots which go down to the coast, resisting the beating sun, rooted and resistant.
"I have come for you Elemental, face me." you command clearly, your heart full, sword in hand.
Nothing happens for a moment, and you feel the movement in your spirit before small stones start to move, only a little at first, tumbling down, sand along with them. Then by degrees the boulder begins to move. Is that an arm? A leg? The Elemental reveals itself, flinty eyes like gimlets in a crown at its peak, as monstrous as you'd expected.
"Why do you come little fleshling?" the voice of the Elemental speaks not in a tongue you understand but rather directly to your soul, you understand the question without hearing it, with the grinding of stones filling the mountain hollow.
That actually gets a momentary smile out of you, you'd have expected an earth Elemental to know better, but perhaps only those on Draenor did. "The Orcs rose from the body of Gorgrond, and I come to honour the lineage of the Breakers."
In ancient times your people had skulked in the caves beneath Draenor, hidden from the colossi which ranged above. No longer. The Orcs were strong now, and that strength began when your people began slaying the children of Grond, great elemental creatures, breaking their bodies to make weapons and homes, and as you darted toward the Elemental, sword raised you did so in the oldest tradition of your people.
Stones fly up to meet your strike, forming into a half-shield, half-arm thing interposed between you and the Elemental. You cut through it, putting your weight into the strike and allowing your shoulder to follow through, blasting through the screeweapon, eyes tight shut against the grit.
With another swipe you hew another forming arm away, and another and another, but by the third the Elemental has formed even more around it and one of them sweeps the legs out from under you, sending you rolling away.
"I am Proudpeak!" thunders the Elemental, "The mountain does not bow, I do not bow!"
Again you run forward and again you make it within arm's reach, sending the scree blasting away with each swipe of your sword, its crude construction irrelevant when you're striking aside rocks. But again, just as with the Firechild, Proudpeak reforms as quickly as you can damage it, even quicker actually due to its inherent resilience and the reduced effectiveness of your sword. Once you realise this you plan again. Against the Firechild you'd struck at its anchor. Clearly the main boulder was Proudpeak's anchor as the Elemental hadn't moved from its spot yet, instead creating its arms and marshalling the stone around it. Were these stones its vassals, or did it merely have effective control over them? You didn't know, but you hoped you could end the fight the same way you had against the Firechild.
The fire in your sword was gone, but the fire in your heart remained. You let Proudpeak strike you away again, coming closer with each attack, letting your frustration build again. You think you might be weakening it, but the Elemental retains far more of its strength over the course of the battle than the Firechild had and soon you're ready.
Again you come forward, and again you send one screearm severed and spilling pebbles down the slopes behind you. Again you come within striking distance, but this time you beckon the power through your sword, grasping unchained energy of the Firelands, binding it with your rage and with a cry the fire surges forth, coating your sword and even your arms as you strike down like lightning, smiting Proudpeak's glinting crown, the Ragefire rushing into him as you cut away.
This time the Elemental doesn't scream, instead it cracks, the fire reaching inside it to break parts of its being away, falling down as the thing died. The arms of stone around you break down swiftly, some of them seeming to move to protect their core, others simply falling to the ground.
In the end you're standing before a pile of broken stone. Something calls to you within though, something defiant within the stone. You reach down and the stone fall away again revealing a single dark crystal, a red quartz in the sandstone of Proudpeak's body.
Binding the Earth Elemental
Research = 49 (47+2 for research)
Binding attempt = 41 (33+8 for Earth Affinity)
Item creation = 24
You returned this time far more satisfied than you did previously. You'd beaten the Elemental and taken its heart as you'd intended, though you're fairly sure from the feeling in your side that you've cracked a few ribs doing so. Days of rest let you move again without too much pain and you continued your work.
Again you consulted the Tome, but this time you also considered some of the other stories regarding totems of the Spirit of Earth. The most prominent of these was the Doomhammer, now wielded by the Warchief Thrall, but not created by him. You'd heard various stories about it but most agreed it'd been taken and shaped either from, or with Elementals of Earth and you wondered if you could do the same with Proudpeak's Heart. The Heart was slightly larger than your fist, but you couldn't immediately think of something to use it in, and decided that for now you'd carry it as it was.
Meditating on your connection to the Spirit of Earth (+8 to all)
Meditation = 17
Ability power = 46
Ability utility = 19
Once more you decided to follow the advice of the shaman you'd spoken to before, trying to meditate on the patience of Earth rather than its potential for violence and upheaval. Again though you largely failed when considering this aspect. You weren't entirely sure what it should feel like but you tried to imagine Earth in all its aspects, to hold the image in your mind and draw a connection to Deepholme, but you simply couldn't put your apprehension out of your mind regarding your return to clan and family. You had too little time and you swiftly found your mind wandering during your meditations.
Furthermore, it seemed you hadn't defeated Proudpeak nearly as completely as you'd thought. The Heart grew most lustrous by the day, but also darker, its redness deepening into black and finally when you held it one morning you heard a voice shake through your bones:
"The mountain does not bow!"
Flameseeing
Base roll = 35 (25+10 for Fire Affinity)
Targeting = 98
Power = 24
Understanding the vision = 34
Detection? = 24
You have little 'free' time in the strictest sense of the word during your stay at Razor Hill. Either you're out seeking the Elements or you're back recovering from your injuries, reading the Tome and other similar activities. In the bare few hours you have though you seek to improve your divination abilities. When you're not meditating with your sword you stare into the flames again, murmuring the chants under your breath, the fire dancing before you until sometimes, more as you practice, you can see other places. First it's glimpses, mountains, other fires, only flashes of insight. Sometimes animals, great fiery birds or tigers, you know not where from. You continue when you can, sometimes seeing further, faces you don't know of a dozen different races, sometimes clearly mages, other times apparently simply people who're also sitting by fires.
You can certainly see how this skill would be useful, if only for your first success in seeing into an enemy's camp. However you've also read in your Tome that Flameseers can summon up Elementals to inform them more directly of other events, whether military intelligence or simply gossip. You've also been warned though that the shaman's mind is rarely able to directly perceive, understand, or otherwise receive information and that rather shapes or symbols can appear which must then be interpreted. You're not entirely sure what a flaming bird would symbolise, perhaps flight, freedom? You'll need to investigate it further.
Of course, your next destination also appears in the fire. You see the Cleft of Shadow, the canyon near Orgrimmar with its caves and hidden alcoves. You see through ritual fires and sorcerous braziers but perceive little more than shadows and a vague impression of evil.
One day though you catch a glimpse of your father. It's a surprise certainly but you recognise him plainly, stooped over a table pouring over some scroll. You hear murmuring and see an imp hop up on the desk to hand something over, dancing nervously in the fashion of the minor demons in the presence of more powerful demonologists. You watch him, not considering anything specific, just enjoying the closeness after years away from home. Then he turns.
Neeru Fireblade stands, eyes down as he carries something to a corner of room, then turns back toward his desk. While he turns he glances toward the fire you're watching him from and before you can move or withdraw you see greenfire eyes narrow. Your father's hand, clawed fingers grasping, darts out toward you and you feel a pressure around your neck, you try to withdraw, to end the vision more as an instinct than consciously, struggling to get away.
"Who dares?" your father demands, leaning closer to the fire, then the burning eyes widen and the pressure abruptly vanishes.
You're sent flying backwards, perhaps by the spell, perhaps your own desperation and you fall back on your elbows as the fire billows up, a malevolent face forming in felflame which spits sulphur.
You don't hear the order, just as with the Elementals you feel it more than perceive it mundanely, but now the word sinks into you as the fire rises higher and higher, speaking, then dies immediately, rushing back into the floor leaving only a dark smudge behind.
"RETURN."
Baneshadow's Sword lost!
Fire totem in the shape of Baneshadow's Sword gained!
Connection with the Spirit of Fire established!
Proudpeak's Defiant Heart gained!
Skill changes:
10% to weapon handling for battles with unusual foes.
5% to Tactics for battle analysis of unusual foes.
You gain:
Basic Shamanism: While your connection to the Spirit of the Wilds was too nebulous to be properly consider a shamanic trait, you've successfully connected with the Spirit of Fire, creating a totem of your sword and making the first steps in understanding the Elements. Shamans are highly respected in many societies.
Ragefire: Using your connection to the Spirit of Fire you lure out the destructive energies of the Firelands, using your rage to bind them to your will. Currently you can only use this to enhance your sword in a manner more powerful, though significantly less enduring that you did with the previous bound elemental. 
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