A fairly dense social chapter, with the rolls very much for inspiration rather than specific results. Feedback and analysis welcome as usual.
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There's much to do in the weeks after your arrival and the first trip you make is back to Grommash Hold to seek an audience with Nazgrel. While you're not so base as to try and flatter the Frostwolf, you know he knows far more about the threats to the Horde than you do and you decide to offer your assistance and see whether he has any duties for you. Privately, perhaps more selfishly, you seek to secure the apparent goodwill of the Warchief and perhaps once again catch the attention of Thrall. Such a figure could certainly assist in your ambitions and besides, you owe allegiance to the Warchief and your father both.
Your status and your recent acquaintance gets you a short audience and you find Nazgrel once again at his desk, sitting back as he appraises you.
"Who do you serve?" he asks after a pause, sitting forward, elbows resting on his papers.
"Azeroth." you reply easily, and at Nazgrel's waved hand you continue, "The greatest threat to this world, and all worlds is the Burning Legion. They destroyed Draenor and Argus before it, put nations to the sword and birthed horrors like the Scourge. Many evils stem from them and other conflicts are petty in comparison to the one we first against the demons. We might fight humans or centaur or other enemies but the Legion are waiting and every battle we fight against other enemies only weakens us."
Nazgrel raises an eyebrow, "True enough," he admits, "But how do you intend us to fight demons when we have Kul Tiras breathing down our necks?"
It reminds you of your conversation with Vark and you reply in a similar manner, "The Warchief seeks peace, if that can be achieved we can unite against the Legion. The Kul Tirans never faced demons specifically so they distrust us, but if we can overcome their vengeance we can unite."
The Frostwolf looks distinctly sceptical but apparently decides to proceed anyway. "What's your father got you doing?"
"He's given me no specific duties, but then I've just arrived." you reply honestly, "I'd planned to hunt down some of the renegades of my clan before they bring greater dishonour to us."
Nazgrel nods, "There's a goblin by name of Fizzle Darkstorm in the canyons north of Razor Hill, a warlock from the old days… he may have some demonic token which might be of use to us in combatting the Legion. Slay him and his followers, my lieutenant in Razor Hill, Gar'thok, will help you."
With that you're dismissed, smiling slightly at the thought of the trust Nazgrel, and in turn the Warchief, are placing in you.
In comparison your encounter with your father is far less productive, you approach him one day while he's examining the Kul Tiran texts, eager to learn his will, only to be rebuffed:
"You wish to know more regarding these renegades?" your father asks and you know even at the start of his speech that this encounter will be an unpleasant one. There's an enforced jolliness, a mocking quality to his words as he berates you. "I had thought you'd known all you needed to already? Is this not so, 'Blademaster'? I understand you've been visiting the Warchief! Do you now consider yourself worthy enough to lead our people? Worthy enough to join the Council of Chiefs? Surely such a learned orc will know the status of his own people? Go among them, 'Chief', what can I tell you that you don't already know?"
As you'd guessed, an unpleasant experience which finds you leaving the family tent without a word, stalking down into the communal area to seek other sources.
First though it's necessary to get to know your clan again. You'd been away for a long time and one of the first absences you'd noticed was your uncle, Arnak. You remembered relatively little of him and looking further you found that most of the acquaintances from your youth were absent, some apparently dead, others deployed or replaced, still more with fates unknown to you.
"It gladdens my heart to see you again young chief! I look forward to the day when your own wise policies will drive our clan to glory, just as your father's have."
You sigh, "Hello Drok."
Drok the Craven is one figure you'd had no interest in meeting again. His was a shameful tale and the orc was an embarrassment to the clan. He wore rich robes like any of the warlocks but had no magical ability and was patronised merely for the amusement of the clan, a sort of lucky charm. Drok had once been selected for training as a shaman, or so the story told to you went, but had only been able to hear the Spirits whenever they'd been telling him to retreat. He'd fled from beasts, ogres and others Orcs, and then once he'd crossed the Dark Portal with the rest of the clan he'd tried and failed to join the warlocks like the other shaman of the Horde, maintaining only his cowardice. You supposed he might have some interesting remarks about Draenor as one of the older orcs but you couldn't bear to talk to him and after a few words you turned away from the simpering fool.
Then you feel his hand on your shoulder, your own going to your swordhilt as Drok pulls you closer, "Beware Bloodeye!" the orc rasps, looking to either side as to ward away eavesdroppers, then releasing you and walking quickly away.
There were new faces though, and interesting ones at that! They include:
- Ureda, female orc and magic user, unusual for any clan but less so in the Burning Blade which served as the Horde's magical expertise. Female shaman weren't unusual but few of them had turned to the Fel and as such there were very few female warlocks, or older female shaman. However, by repute she wasn't a warlock but was rather interested in the tradition of arcane magic practiced by the humans and elves.
- Keldran, another oddity, this time a warlock but one who studied the unpopular shadow magic of the necrolytes rather than the Fel. Gul'dan's original necrolytes had all been killed and it seemed this orc was trying to resurrect their tradition.
- Takata, known as the Steelblade. This orc is one of the Blademasters who more closely associates with the warlocks of the Burning Blade rather than with his own kind.
- Gorn, another Blademaster, this time a commander apparently to depart for some far land shortly. Gorn's grandfather you know was Dharl of the Thrice-Bloodied Blade, a hero of your clan.
- Drek the Firecaller, one of the few priests of the Orcs, a pyremaster, responsible for funerary rites and the burning of the dead rather than the more general spiritual guidance a shaman is responsible for. It is said pyremasters have strange powers…
Finally, Gan'rul Bloodeye, the warlock Drok had warned you about. Gan'rul is a figure you remember vaguely, just as you had a few others, but like them you remember him as a distant figure rather than a close acquaintance. He was several years over you, fully grown though yet to take a mate. From what you'd heard around the clan he was perceived as a rising star and you suspect Drok warned you against him due to Gan'rul's increasing political influence. Most of the warlocks of your clan were young and Gan'rul was one of the generation after your father's, one of the first to be born on Azeroth after the Orcs had moved through the Dark Portal, growing up in the shadow of more powerful warlocks and learning from them rather than converting from shamanism to demonic magic as your father had done. He was one of the relatively few 'pure' warlocks, teachings unclouded by other traditions and he'd embraced the fel enthusiastically, his eyes almost as red as your father's. Gan'rul has apparently 'been east' and is one of the more powerful and active warlocks of the clan and has recently summoned a shadow demon to do his bidding.
As another way to refamiliarise yourself with the clan you seek out the Blademasters. You have no specific expectations of the meeting but perhaps secretly you might hope to receive some special insight regarding the traditions of the Blademasters given it's been a dream of yours to be one yourself.
To find them though you have to leave the Cleft of Shadow and journey back across the canyoned city, this time to the Valley of Honour. This section of the city holds all things relating to martial pursuits, from the Ring of Valour, Orgrimmar's gladiatorial arena, to the Hall of the Brave which houses many of the wandering warriors of the Horde. This is also the home to the Blackrock clan and the ring on hammer on anvil and the smell of burning metal fills your head as you walk in. Several areas have been sectioned off for specific martial practices including warg training and duelling and you quickly find the blademasters by their visible banners in their corner. Here orcs practice with swords rather wear no armour, unusual among the rest of the warriors like the hammer wielding, armoured legions of the Blackrock.
You seek out the captain of the area, a middle aged orc wielding a large sword resembling your own and introduce yourself. The Blademaster is Akinos, a name you vaguely remember from your childhood and you swiftly begin to converse, the orc occasionally shouting commands to his students. One approaches, Sorek of the Blackrock, armoured and wielding a fine axe and the conversation turns to one of swords with you explaining your experiments with your trophy and its subsequent situation.
"You should speak with Gor'ashan." Sorek notes, "The call him 'Orebreaker' and I know he apprenticed to Blackhand years ago, perhaps he'd know what to do with the sword."
But Akinos shakes his head, "In the old days we worked with the Blackrock to forge our swords but the magic in them came solely from the Burning Blade, perhaps Gor'ashan might offer some insight but not even Blackhand knew our secrets." he looks at you, "It's a pity we haven't the skill to make more of them, but if you prove worthy there's enough around that you could take one. Until then you'll have to manage without, I'm certainly not the one to allow or deny you in this matter."
"Who must I speak with to learn more of the making of them then?" you ask, thinking back to your observations regarding the two Fire Elementals battling to the death through your sword.
"Jubei'thos perhaps, or Moogul, but no one's seen them in years… Oh, and on that note, if you even encounter Rehgar Earthfury, young warrior, be wary. He's had several of our kind killed. Our skill is great and we hone it in the Ring," he tosses his head indicating the arena across the valley, "which cuts into his profits. Trust no orc who loves gold." he advises you, "Nor grow to love it yourself, Hikal learnt that, to his cost…"
"What happened to him?" you can't help but ask.
"Rehgar owed him some sum and then tricked him into battle with one of his slaves. This slave proved far more skilled than Rehgar had indicated and killed Hikal." the Blademaster shrugs.
It seemed a dishonourable end for one so storied, but you supposed that was what Akinos is implying. The orc seems content at the silence that follows, watching his students before you speak again.
"I've been away for years and my father says there are renegades in the clan, what do you know of them?"
Akinos looks at you, then at Sorek, he motions for the Blackrock to leave.
Sorek understands the look and salutes, clashing fist against breast. "Will you spar with me when you're done? I have only these elders to test me!" he asks you with a grin.
Akinos laughs, "I'll test him before you do whelp, go knock the others down a few times!" and he returns the salute, then beckons you within the Hall, "This is not something to discuss with strangers." he murmurs, leading you upstairs to an empty chamber.
Except, as your eyes accustom themselves to the sudden gloom you realise its not empty at all, an orc kneels on a cushion, the ceremonial beads of the Blademasters turning over in his fingers as he murmurs, eyes closed in meditation. Before him is a sword, runes on its surface glowing slightly in the darkness. It's a magnificent blade, a great ringed sabre far more impressive than the now sundered weapon you'd taken from Baneshadow.
"Master Ronak." Akinos speaks, sitting beside the orc, you doing the same opposite him, "The son of Neeru would hear of Rahjak and the others."
The murmurs continue, but with a last clink Ronak turns over the last bead in his chain and opens cloudy white eyes. The Blademaster is blind you see but his eyes turn to you anyway, can he perceive you through some second sight?
"You come to hear of our dishonour?"
He doesn't seem hostile, just tired and while you can think of a few reasons this might be you approach him with the respect he's due as a master of his craft and no doubt a famous warrior within the clan. "I have returned after my Trials and if I intend to lead the clan one day I must know all about it. I already intend to track down the renegade warlocks who dishonour the Burning Blade but I've always looked up to the Blademasters and I'd see them to their rightful place once again the finest warriors in the Horde. I know nothing of this Rahjak, but if I should know of it I'd ask you to tell me so I might deal with him."
Ronak shakes his head, "Rahjak would kill you before you'd even drawn your sword, he was my equal in years gone by and now he exceeds me."
"Only in dishonour!" growls Akinos, breaking into the conversation.
Ronak looks at Akinos and then back to you, "Rahjak and the others seek skill, not honour. Once we were warriors as you say, now we've departed that path to become bodyguards, trainers… diplomats." he looks at Akinos with the last word, a hint of bitterness coming into his voice. "Very well," he continues, "You are the son of Neeru and perhaps you should know if you don't already… Rahjak and others, too many others, still walk the path of the Blademaster, the true path, following their blades, seeking battle and challenge, seeking the Breath of Eternity, the truest moment of battle. Thrall denied them this so they seek it elsewhere. They wander the land, battleseekers… deathseekers perhaps…"
"They attack caravans, whoever they can, to draw out the true warriors who defend them. Some have taken to theft, others leave goods lying where they fall and move on." Akinos says.
"There can be no honour in such banditry!" you exclaim, the very idea of a Blademaster taking to such activities offensive to you.
"We are dying young warrior." Master Ronak concludes, exhaustion in his tone, "Old, forgotten, rusted away to nothingness, a memory of our glory… Can you begrudge those who want to burn out rather than fade away?"
You speak with the Blademasters for a short time more but eventually depart, concerned by what you'd heard but no closer to a resolution. You return home and speak briefly with your father who questions you on your activities, seeming to be perfectly aware where you'd been and who you'd been speaking to. You wonder if he's had you followed, but there were plenty of ways to do so that you wouldn't have noticed, your father's divinations one of them and you realised it didn't matter really, he would think what he thought and you'd never acted with dishonour.
Next you decide to speak with the Shattered Hand. You have several goals, firstly, simply making contact with the Horde's intelligence service, an acquaintance you hope will prove useful in future. Secondly, trying to get some information on the places you're planning to go and the people you're planning to meet, or kill, specifically the renegades you've heard about. Lastly you assumed someone among the Shattered Hand will be able to translate the papers you took from the Kul Tirans.
As it turns out the Shattered Hand evidently expected you as you're welcomed one evening to their side of the Cleft, and even end up learning the words to one of their traditional songs 'Fourteen Ways to Skin a Dwarf' later that evening once the beer starts flowing. You spend most of the evening in a state of confusion and only clear up your knowledge of the clan during the next week as you speak more with the Shattered Hand. Firstly, you'd previously had the impression that the clan were a sad bunch, which appears to be true, but only for the older members. These older orcs sit by the fires, their skin horribly scarred by either their enemies or themselves, their right hands missing and an eccentric array of implements riveted into their stumps instead. You know the story of the Shattered Hand, of Kargath Bladefist who'd smashed his own hand with a rock to escape slavery and replaced it with a knife to overthrow his ogre captors. These older orcs are the remnants of the original Shattered Hand, slaves of Draenor, their traditions of self-mutilation ignored by the younger folk. The younger orcs are jollier, more gregarious and joined by other races, trolls especially well represented among them, with none of them showing the same mutilations their elders wear so dolefully.
Gordul, the leader of the Shattered Hand in Orgrimmar detaches one of his warriors, Kartha to answer your questions and assist you in the translations. Kartha is rather unsubtle for a supposed assassin and bears twin axes rather than a dagger. As appears to be common among the Shattered Hand she wears a blackened set of leather and chain but has yet to lower her veil in your presence. While you can hardly claim a great familiarity with women you can't help but consider unusual, though perhaps all women in her clan are?
"These I'll need to look over further, there are a few words I don't know, I think maybe they're specific terms of the Kul Tirans rather than the tongue of Lorderon." she tells you after sorting through the papers. There's a large pile of what she's described as irrelevant or useless material from diaries to personal letters, a smaller pile of documents which might prove useful describing certain matters but none of them urgent enough to examine at the moment, and finally the last portion that Kartha takes away to look over further, promising a report on them at a later date.
Gordul meanwhile speaks to you one afternoon regarding your own clan. "These rogue Blademasters are familiar to me," he remarks, fingering the hilts of his daggers, "Rahjak is the most dangerous, though there are two others, Sesk and Ishi, of note. Sesk is the brother of Gorn the General and I know they have a great hatred of each other. Ishi might be brought back, but the other two will end up dead." he remarks before pausing, "The warlocks meanwhile are a lesser problem, but have the potential to become a greater given enough time. Ultimately the Blademasters are single fighters, powerful ones, but they're alone and one day someone will get a lucky shot in… This Darkstorm you mentioned, I'm aware of him and he's certainly the most dangerous renegade in Durotar, as I remember he has about forty with him, fighters, a few warlocks, maybe some demons. Slay him and the rest will turn, some of them are just criminals and exiles with nowhere to go and we'll hunt them down easily enough. I've been surprised the Warchief hasn't sent a warparty to root them out actually, it would be bloody but at least we'd remove them. Perhaps with the peace in the north the Warsong will be sent."
With more information you return to your side of the Cleft and your own clan to plan your next move. You'd spoken with various people and you now had enough information to consider matters more fully. As the heir to the clan it was your duty to know about your people, in that at least your father had been right, and you'd set about the Cleft and further afield, speaking with various people and groups, gathering the information available to you and compiling it to try to understand the situation. You were the heir to your clan and few could openly deny you for fear of your father's wrath, but your end result is a lot of different stories, some contradictory, many relying on different perspectives and considerations, and not at all necessarily accurate. You'd hoped it would be far simpler, that you'd be able to reach a quick conclusion to understand who you needed to hunt down, but the reality is far more complex. You make the following observations:
- The Blademasters as a cohort and tradition have largely fragmented into many groups. Some have remained attached to the Blackrock and the remnants of the Horde in the Eastern Kingdoms, some are battleseekers wandering in search of ways to test their skill, some like Gorn have found positions in the Horde's military hierarchy but still pay their respects to your father as chief, while others have taken up other positions. The reasons for the Blademasters' decline are complex and varied but include the internment of many by humans, the decline of shamanistic traditions and close connections with the Blackrock orcs which supported their activities, as well as the Warchief's public refusal to employ them, and subsequent pacifist policies.
- The Burning Blade represent the most reliable cohort of demonic experts and warlocks on Kalimdor, but their loyalty is certainly more toward the clan and themselves than to the Horde. Some have broken away to delve deeper into the Fel, usually independently, though you suspect sometimes on your father's orders. The initial cohort of Blackrock warlocks that Gul'dan trained remain in the Eastern Kingdoms with their clan, and the warlocks of other clans have mostly joined the Burning Blade as they are unwelcome in other clans due to Thrall's policies. Due to their nature, many warlocks are ambitious and lustful for power. The warlocks of the Burning Blade are powerful, and are beginning to work independently to discover new uses of magic, rather than simply following in Gul'dan's footsteps.
- You've heard occasional references to 'going east', a practice which apparently can bring knowledge and increased power in the Fel. Warlocks and warriors have departed and returned though you're not clear on where they've been. You know at least part of your clan are based in Desolace and you believe 'going east' refers to this.
- Years ago several other races were accepted into the Burning Blade, bringing new traditions of magic including Troll demoniacs, human necrolytes and goblin demonologists. Under your father's policies these other races have steadily been pushed out.
- All the shaman of your clan turned to warlock magics as the rest of the Horde's shaman did before the opening of the Dark Portal, however, subsequently no new shaman have emerged within the Burning Blade and any spiritually gifted children are instead pushed toward Fel magic.
- The 'renegades' of your clan depend on who you speak to. To the Blademasters and the Shattered Hand the renegades are the wandering battleseekers who attack anyone who seems to put up a good fight. To your father the renegades are the warlocks which have been driven mad by Fel corruption. To Nazgrel the renegades are the parts of your clan still loyal to the Burning Legion.
The impression from your assessment of your clan isn't a good one. There's steady signs of decline from the departure of the Blademasters to the growth in power of the warlocks and the steady fragmentation of the older traditions of Draenor. The younger generations including yours had no memory of Hallvalor or Nagrand, no conception of a day when the Blademasters had been powerful and the spirits honoured. From your visit to the Shattered Hand you knew this problem had presented itself in other clans and you imagine something similar happening in other clans of the same position, specialised but small, like the Thunderlords. In a few years you didn't doubt that the clan might be absorbed fully by other groups or worse, fully fallen to the fel. Before you'd thought balancing tradition and demonic expertise would have been tricky, but now you saw your ambition of leading a united, powerful Burning Blade clan in even more peril than before.
Lastly you'd attempted to speak with your father regarding translating and learning from the magical tomes you'd taken from the watchtower. You make little progress in this and your father spends a lot of time speaking with various people and has little time for you at the moment. You do see him perusing the tomes a little though, flipping pages and having evidently broken the enchantment which was preventing you from even opening them. You also speak to him regarding your plans to hunt down the goblin Darkstorm which gets you a grunt of approval but little else. Evidently you need to prove yourself further before he's willing to bring you into his confidence.
