- Location
- Italy
"are we the baddies?"
Yeah called it, we're....not really a good shaman huh...
Orc Quest; or, A Critical Examination of Agency Through in Interactive Fiction (Warcraft)
- Thread starter FractiousDay
- Start date
- Fantasy
"are we the baddies?"
Yeah called it, we're....not really a good shaman huh...
Oh man, I somehow completely missed that. Grok'mash is still laboring under the illusion that he is a Good Guy.
If Akinos lives, I'll vote for Grok'mash to walk up to him and ask, 'um, are we the Bad Guys?'
The response I'm expecting is, after a long and incredulous stare, 'well, we summon demons, perform human sacrifices and chase native peoples off of their lands; put two and two together, kid.'
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- Location
- PA
Personally, I'm for taking that Tauren Sabbatical at that point. The Trolls do the sacrifice thing too, and natively with no need for Fel temptation, the Undead are...Walking Warcrimes ho! due to their birth, and the other Horde races haven't joined yet.Oh man, I somehow completely missed that. Grok'mash is still laboring under the illusion of being a Good Guy.
If Akinos lives, I'll vote for Grok'mash to walk up to him and ask, 'um, are we the Bad Guys?'
The response I'm expecting is, 'well, we summon demons, perform human sacrifices and chase native peoples off of their lands; put two and two together, kid.'
The Tauren's problem as I understood it was they weren't strong enough as a polity to survive much longer without Orc intervention.
- Location
- Italy
Oh man, I somehow completely missed that. Grok'mash is still laboring under the illusion of being a Good Guy.
If Akinos lives, I'll vote for Grok'mash to walk up to him and ask, 'um, are we the Bad Guys?'
The response I'm expecting is, 'well, we summon demons, perform human sacrifices and chase native peoples off of their lands; put two and two together, kid.'
I mean technically we're bad guys to the Centaurs, and they're bad guys to us, they attacked us in this instance so we're defending ourselves, they probably felt they had to attack us before we gained too much strength and let's face it we probably would have become a problem for them if left unchecked, but then we had a good reason to come as well precisely because if we didn't the Centaurs would become a greater threat to us and our settlements, and it goes on like this until you get to the start of the conflict which happened because we chose to help the Tauren which were being constantly harassed by the Centaurs and which we chose to help because they were pretty cool guys.
In the end both "good guys" and "bad guys" are an illusion in this context, there's only "guys trying to survive" here which for a complicated set of reason came into conflict,
and sure, we did order some pretty unsightly stuff but to be fair we were kind of backed into a corner and trying to maximize our chances of survival and success, you don't get to complain about how someone defends themselves if you attack them and back them into a corner with their life at stake.
Now how Grok'mash HIMSELF will feel about his actions is another story,How will he feel about the sacrifice of sapient beings? How does it feel when it's your enemy being favored by the elements? Was this course of action the only way or could he have done something different? And if he did choose differently would it truly have helped or would it have meant complete and utter defeat? And even if it did mean defeat....what is more dishonorable? To order horrible acts to be done or to face utter defeat and condemn all of your men to death because you're unwilling to cross some line?
I see where you coming from, but I must point out two things from the update.
Thing #1: the desperation with which the Kolkar fight.
This method of attack cannot be interpreted as 'a tribal federation with little to no experience with organized warfare attacking a professional fighting force.' They would have had quitters and deserters long before that; think about it, who would want to wade through a pile of their comrades' corpses to attack some random orks on a random mountain?
Under normal circumstances, no one. But when there is an existential threat? Now we might have volunteers for the desperate attack mounted by the Kolkar.
Thing #2: the opposing shaman who came out to face Grok'mash.
The imagery here is striking: a literal knight in shining armor strides out to battle the Sons of Demons and their champion (hey, that's Grok'mash!).
Yes, most conflicts cannot be framed as 'good guys vs. bad guys.' But here, where a Kolkar federation came together to give battle to literal warlocks and demons and fought with desperation to stop them from ruining their ancestral home, I feel a bit more comfortable with stating something a bit more absolute.
Whether or not the Kolkar are the good guys, we definitely are the Bad Guys.
Edit: @FractiousDay, I honestly hope that the Kolkar won this battle; somehow, my brain didn't catch up to what was going inside Grok's head.
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- Location
- Italy
I feel you are giving the Kolkar too much credit here, as well as forgetting something
From Orgrimmar 4 Results
The Centaurs are not attacking because they are afraid for their lives, they are attacking because they want vengeance, and they have made an alliance which may well turn out to be far darker than the creature we were trying to summon (and bind), personally I think it is suspicious how bloodthirsty and uncaring of their own lives the Kolkar have been, almost as if they were being influenced by something, and the orcs know from personal experience that such influence can produce the effects we have been seeing in the Kolkar.
You are correct on one count though, the Burning Blade is probably up to no good in Dreadmist Peak, however, Grok'mash is unaware of this and due to his upbringing he is unlikely to doubt his clan, unless of course some sort of dramatic event happens to him that makes him question the practices of his clan and seek answers elsewhere.....something like witnessing the elements tortured for years by his clan practices literally turning against them at the behest of the enemy shaman and causing a disaster.
Yeah that's bound to cause a shakeup, and frankly for our objective it's probably for the best, remember our final goal is to defend Azeroth, not our clan, maybe it's time to think about what the elders of the clan were doing on that mountain peak and why, and to find out if those at the top of our clan really have the demons do their bidding or if it is the opposite. If they're dead that might actually be a positive in the long term.
This does not mean our clan has to be left to rot, we are in a position to reform it but only if we make the right choices and the dice aren't cruel. Fel magic is a tool, an incredibly dangerous one that has to be kept in check at all times to be sure, but a tool nonetheless and in the hands of a careful clan leader it can be a tool to defend Azeroth.
- Location
- United Kingdom
I've been somewhat surprised that no one's noticed this before. I've been exploring the issue since the earliest chapters so it's been rather amusing to me that when I had shaman characters early on tell you exactly what the expectation is around shamanism, that you respect and honour the elements, and they you guys have been all 'how do we use them for our best advantage'. Same with demon stuff really.
So while the root causes of the conflict are complex and there's a few things going on in the background which wouldn't be readily apparent to those present, there are certain limits to conflicts that are generally accepted... unless you're an orc.
I'd like to bring up the Saga of Burned Njal here. It's a story about Icelanders in a feud basically but there's the same pattern of successive escalating action which gets worse and worse as time goes on. At one point Gizur the White and his friends have the house of Gunnar surrounded and one character who's described to be evil says 'why don't we just burn his house down?' Gizur's party refuse as they regard this as massively immoral, so eventually they attack normally and a few of them die but they kill Gunnar. But the story is that of 'Burned Njal' because the feud escalates more and more until Gizur's faction attack Njal's house too and this time burn it down with his family inside.
The point being there are certain standards and expectations for warfare. One of the reasons the Horde in WoW are so morally bankrupt is their constant recourse to evil stuff whenever they feel even mildly pressured, whether this is subjugating elementals or using the Blight. It's not even just the Forsaken, though they're the main part, it's also the orcs who have little understanding or ability to learn as a culture.
But yea, as you say this is the important part. I don't want to be too hamfisted in trying to put these themes into the quest but I do think it's important to explore such things so I'm glad the chapter is provoking discussion.
The Battle of Dreadmist Peak 6
- Location
- United Kingdom
This is becoming a very long chapter so as ever reactions appreciated.
-x-
If anything the storm of darkness increases in ferocity as the fel binding on the Ur'zul snaps, sending dark energy into the earth and sky.
The warlocks die quickly, stones and boulders crashing down on them while they try to grasp the fel-eater again, this time the green fire in the hands acting as chains around the creature to subdue it.
While the demon is at the centre of the peak, away by the old caves where most of the clan would sleep you see the scene much changed. Half the actual peak of Dreadmist is gone, in its place stands a single elemental, a thousand gimlet eyes across its body, a carpet of vassal boulders in its wake.
Proudpeak is reborn.
In another swipe, the vengeance of earth strikes out at another warlock, snuffing him out as if fingers pinching a candle, the boulders of his mighty arms roaring and groaning as he kills until there's only one warlock left.
Sarilus is beside you, a forked steel rob held out before him, catching the ropes of dancing fel on it as they lash out at him and you run to the mage, "What do we do?"
"Break the final link, push him in!"
"What?!" you cry, shouting against the raging darkness, eyes alighting on the final warlock left standing.
"We're lost if you don't!"
The single warlock, the chief of their coven stands resolute, bleeding from a dozen wounds but arms still held high, a flame, dark and defiant.
You stagger through the whirlwind, ignoring the sharp stones that tears at your face, weathering the assault of the elements.
The warlock is defiant right until you crash into his back, tearing him away from his spot and sending him falling forward into the fleshy mass of the Ur'zul.
The demon seems to reach out to him, a space in its body opening as the orc falls forward, embracing him with its mutated flesh, tendrils of green evil wrapping around the warlock as he struggles before being engulfed by the fel-eater.
With that the creature is free, its flesh rippling and twisting, rib-mouth yawning, fel-green dripping from its teeth. The clusters of hooves that make up its feet test the stone of the mountain, cracking the rock in some places, erasing the ritual circle that had bound it. The faces of the sacrifices press against its thin skin, screaming as their souls are subsumed by the greater whole. The clusters of hooves that make up its feet sway like malignant polyps, probing the ground as it takes its first step.
Then Proudpeak surges into it, one of the Elemental's arms almost completely disappearing, instead the other growing twice the size, swelling with stone-borne might and thundering into the shoulder of the Ur'zul, tackling the creature back.
The thing screams, a dozen voices discordantly ringing, forced back, hoof clusters straining on the mountain, but then it digs in, the earth cracks and bleeds under it, the ground rumbles again as the demon presses against the world with all its unnatural glory.
Rock-giant and fel-giant, the two massive creatures struggle against one another, the Ur'zul rooting itself further into the mountain while Proudpeak forms multiple arms to rain down blows. Quite quickly though it seems Proudpeak has successively been locked into the Ur'zul's hold, fel energy creeping up the Elemental's body sinking into tiny cracks from the fighting and slowly corrupting the stone.
The ground trembles again and you see flashes of light and distant booms that shake your bones.
Once more the fel-eater is changing, clearly taking the upper hand from Proudpeak as it devours the elemental until you see that there's almost one being, a massive fleshy mound rooted into the mountain itself, pulsating and glowing with dark magic, a dozen limbs, a dozen screaming faces.
The blood mist swirls all around you like a gale, your eyes streaming as you look out at a shadow in the darkness. A thing of blackness among blackness, another horror called up during the battle.
It looms there, a dozen shining eyes in a cloud, then a hand appears, massive, each knuckle a crystal the size of a house, each finger a great pillar of stone. The hand flies through the tempest, swiping at the mountainside and again you're thrown to the ground as the creature strikes the mountain itself, sending almost half of it falling away in landslide onto the plain.
Rocks and stones, some only pebbles, others the size of your head rain down from the stroke and you know all those you'd left below to face the remaining centaur are gone, crushed or buried under half the mountain.
The ground shakes, the earth trembles and the immense creature brings its fist down again on the summit as you cower before it.
"What is it!?"
"He is Forneus! A mighty duke of the inner earth!" comes a shout from Sarilus, rod held high, eldritch light spilling from it in ripples, the falling stones sliding off the shield.
The gem-studded hand comes down, this time raking away at the Ur'zul, but though the demon screams as its body is rent this way and that, it's sucking limbs latch onto Forneus, stretching perversely between the duke's hand and the corrupt moorings in the mountain itself.
You don't see the rest of the fight. Shards of crystal fly through the air, stones rain down, tongues of fire and death lash out from the titanic battle between demon and elemental and you throw your hands over your head and shelter in the ruins, half deafened by crash and fury. You think you passed out during that epic brawl, you have little memory of the second half, only of rage and hatred, the killing intent of opposed forces as they battled for dominance, but eventually the wind eases and the sky clears, indeed it clears for the first time since you arrived at Dreadmist. The eponymous red haze has finally lifted and you can see the sun off to the south.
Sarilus too has survived, but you push away the thought that he might be the only one of your party left in favour of examining your surroundings. You find your blade is miraculously intact and you take it up, lacking a scabbard, clothes torn and hair free, sticky with blood and death. The mage isn't much better off and has lost his staff somewhere and as you see the rest of the mountain you know there's no point looking for it.
Where once Dreadmist was a mountain on the plains of the Barrens, the camp of the warlocks being about halfway up one side, now you find yourself standing on a flat plateau, indeed a flat-topped column of jagged stone. First the disruption of the ritual, then the maulings of Forneus and the mountain has been carved into something new. Nothing is left but shattered rock and boulders, not one hint that people used to live here.
Looking out you see the situation not much better on the plain. New hills appear to have been thrown up and you see widespread devastation from the battle between the giants across in a swathe going east. Many of the hills are even smoking, some greater than they were before, spewing fire and soot high in many columns, while when you look west and north you see the same of the Stonetalon Mountains. It's as if the land itself has been torn and ruined… is this what the centaur shaman had meant when they said their mother would weep at the coming of Forneus? Is this the destruction the Kolkar had intended?
"The day is won then." Sarilus says with a sigh, looking out over the decimated plateau that once was Dreadmist peak.
You nod slowly, turning to the Forsaken-
And his head drops from his body into the dirt at your feet.
It rolls there, the swaddlings the mage used to conceal his form stained with black ichor as the robed body slumps to its knees at your side, that same ichor leaking from a savage wound at the neck.
Then there's a shadow on the peak, a shadow under the bright light of the sun, as if scorned by the heavens. The shadow moves, racing across the rock away from you to the centre of the plateau, then forming like a column of mist into a figure.
Beneath the shadows you perceive a pale face, a human's high cheeks and a long straight nose beneath a deep hood. The eyes glow blue, the lips a ruined mess like sand carried away on the waves, the figure's teeth and jaw exposed in white bone, covered in an oozing black tar which drips down his chin onto vestments that might once have been fine, but are now rent and ruined by many attacks.
The thing moves like a crab, bent as if it's body isn't suited for it, trampling sideways and forward, shadows growing in its hands in imitation of a sword.
"What are you?" you ask in disgust, your blade forward against the foe. "What enemy must I face now? After today, what's another horror birthed from the blackest pits? What are you?!"
It's words are wrong, its speech cracking as if the world itself is injured by the thing's presence, "Your future."
-x-
If anything the storm of darkness increases in ferocity as the fel binding on the Ur'zul snaps, sending dark energy into the earth and sky.
The warlocks die quickly, stones and boulders crashing down on them while they try to grasp the fel-eater again, this time the green fire in the hands acting as chains around the creature to subdue it.
While the demon is at the centre of the peak, away by the old caves where most of the clan would sleep you see the scene much changed. Half the actual peak of Dreadmist is gone, in its place stands a single elemental, a thousand gimlet eyes across its body, a carpet of vassal boulders in its wake.
Proudpeak is reborn.
In another swipe, the vengeance of earth strikes out at another warlock, snuffing him out as if fingers pinching a candle, the boulders of his mighty arms roaring and groaning as he kills until there's only one warlock left.
Sarilus is beside you, a forked steel rob held out before him, catching the ropes of dancing fel on it as they lash out at him and you run to the mage, "What do we do?"
"Break the final link, push him in!"
"What?!" you cry, shouting against the raging darkness, eyes alighting on the final warlock left standing.
"We're lost if you don't!"
The single warlock, the chief of their coven stands resolute, bleeding from a dozen wounds but arms still held high, a flame, dark and defiant.
You stagger through the whirlwind, ignoring the sharp stones that tears at your face, weathering the assault of the elements.
The warlock is defiant right until you crash into his back, tearing him away from his spot and sending him falling forward into the fleshy mass of the Ur'zul.
The demon seems to reach out to him, a space in its body opening as the orc falls forward, embracing him with its mutated flesh, tendrils of green evil wrapping around the warlock as he struggles before being engulfed by the fel-eater.
With that the creature is free, its flesh rippling and twisting, rib-mouth yawning, fel-green dripping from its teeth. The clusters of hooves that make up its feet test the stone of the mountain, cracking the rock in some places, erasing the ritual circle that had bound it. The faces of the sacrifices press against its thin skin, screaming as their souls are subsumed by the greater whole. The clusters of hooves that make up its feet sway like malignant polyps, probing the ground as it takes its first step.
Then Proudpeak surges into it, one of the Elemental's arms almost completely disappearing, instead the other growing twice the size, swelling with stone-borne might and thundering into the shoulder of the Ur'zul, tackling the creature back.
The thing screams, a dozen voices discordantly ringing, forced back, hoof clusters straining on the mountain, but then it digs in, the earth cracks and bleeds under it, the ground rumbles again as the demon presses against the world with all its unnatural glory.
Rock-giant and fel-giant, the two massive creatures struggle against one another, the Ur'zul rooting itself further into the mountain while Proudpeak forms multiple arms to rain down blows. Quite quickly though it seems Proudpeak has successively been locked into the Ur'zul's hold, fel energy creeping up the Elemental's body sinking into tiny cracks from the fighting and slowly corrupting the stone.
The ground trembles again and you see flashes of light and distant booms that shake your bones.
Once more the fel-eater is changing, clearly taking the upper hand from Proudpeak as it devours the elemental until you see that there's almost one being, a massive fleshy mound rooted into the mountain itself, pulsating and glowing with dark magic, a dozen limbs, a dozen screaming faces.
The blood mist swirls all around you like a gale, your eyes streaming as you look out at a shadow in the darkness. A thing of blackness among blackness, another horror called up during the battle.
It looms there, a dozen shining eyes in a cloud, then a hand appears, massive, each knuckle a crystal the size of a house, each finger a great pillar of stone. The hand flies through the tempest, swiping at the mountainside and again you're thrown to the ground as the creature strikes the mountain itself, sending almost half of it falling away in landslide onto the plain.
Rocks and stones, some only pebbles, others the size of your head rain down from the stroke and you know all those you'd left below to face the remaining centaur are gone, crushed or buried under half the mountain.
The ground shakes, the earth trembles and the immense creature brings its fist down again on the summit as you cower before it.
"What is it!?"
"He is Forneus! A mighty duke of the inner earth!" comes a shout from Sarilus, rod held high, eldritch light spilling from it in ripples, the falling stones sliding off the shield.
The gem-studded hand comes down, this time raking away at the Ur'zul, but though the demon screams as its body is rent this way and that, it's sucking limbs latch onto Forneus, stretching perversely between the duke's hand and the corrupt moorings in the mountain itself.
You don't see the rest of the fight. Shards of crystal fly through the air, stones rain down, tongues of fire and death lash out from the titanic battle between demon and elemental and you throw your hands over your head and shelter in the ruins, half deafened by crash and fury. You think you passed out during that epic brawl, you have little memory of the second half, only of rage and hatred, the killing intent of opposed forces as they battled for dominance, but eventually the wind eases and the sky clears, indeed it clears for the first time since you arrived at Dreadmist. The eponymous red haze has finally lifted and you can see the sun off to the south.
Sarilus too has survived, but you push away the thought that he might be the only one of your party left in favour of examining your surroundings. You find your blade is miraculously intact and you take it up, lacking a scabbard, clothes torn and hair free, sticky with blood and death. The mage isn't much better off and has lost his staff somewhere and as you see the rest of the mountain you know there's no point looking for it.
Where once Dreadmist was a mountain on the plains of the Barrens, the camp of the warlocks being about halfway up one side, now you find yourself standing on a flat plateau, indeed a flat-topped column of jagged stone. First the disruption of the ritual, then the maulings of Forneus and the mountain has been carved into something new. Nothing is left but shattered rock and boulders, not one hint that people used to live here.
Looking out you see the situation not much better on the plain. New hills appear to have been thrown up and you see widespread devastation from the battle between the giants across in a swathe going east. Many of the hills are even smoking, some greater than they were before, spewing fire and soot high in many columns, while when you look west and north you see the same of the Stonetalon Mountains. It's as if the land itself has been torn and ruined… is this what the centaur shaman had meant when they said their mother would weep at the coming of Forneus? Is this the destruction the Kolkar had intended?
"The day is won then." Sarilus says with a sigh, looking out over the decimated plateau that once was Dreadmist peak.
You nod slowly, turning to the Forsaken-
And his head drops from his body into the dirt at your feet.
It rolls there, the swaddlings the mage used to conceal his form stained with black ichor as the robed body slumps to its knees at your side, that same ichor leaking from a savage wound at the neck.
Then there's a shadow on the peak, a shadow under the bright light of the sun, as if scorned by the heavens. The shadow moves, racing across the rock away from you to the centre of the plateau, then forming like a column of mist into a figure.
Beneath the shadows you perceive a pale face, a human's high cheeks and a long straight nose beneath a deep hood. The eyes glow blue, the lips a ruined mess like sand carried away on the waves, the figure's teeth and jaw exposed in white bone, covered in an oozing black tar which drips down his chin onto vestments that might once have been fine, but are now rent and ruined by many attacks.
The thing moves like a crab, bent as if it's body isn't suited for it, trampling sideways and forward, shadows growing in its hands in imitation of a sword.
"What are you?" you ask in disgust, your blade forward against the foe. "What enemy must I face now? After today, what's another horror birthed from the blackest pits? What are you?!"
It's words are wrong, its speech cracking as if the world itself is injured by the thing's presence, "Your future."
Oh boy. Is this apparition here to prevent us from going down a dark path, or force us down such a path?
Annatar
Lord of Gifts
- Location
- Pittsburgh
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
Either way it's getting it's ass kicked. Whatever it's doing here is probably not good for the space time continuum.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Grok'mash has had a first-row seat to complete chaos, death and destruction. If in the end he is not a Wight/puppet [the odds would be better if Akinos reappears to face the Dark Knight, who knows], he is going to have PTSD, lol. Possible take-aways:
I bet he never really saw a major application of Fel magic firsthand. That's a rough introduction to the field, huh. Unlike Neeru's "look at this cool thing, it's fearsome but it can make you stronger" approach. The Fel is repugnant, and not an ally.
Should he really spread the Fel magic around Azeroth? The Elder Warlocks removed themselves from the battle: they were useless at fighting and useless at countering the Elementals, going off to unleash something that they could not control and could not save their lives. Or any lives. Useless, horrific, and destructive.
The Centaurs established a connection to Proudpeak and sacrificed themselves on the mountain, in the hundreds. The Shaman was the tipping point of Proudpeak's power. [note: this may not be correct, but it's a reasonable assumption to make based on the events.]
The elements are beasts alright, but are also rulers with a will of their own. They answer to people serving them and sacrificing themselves to them, erasing themselves to give greater power to the elemental.
If you wish for an elemental to serve you, and not the other way round... do you have to break it? But even a broken elemental can be empowered by one's enemies, and turn on you so that they can be rulers once again. If he hadn't make the mistake of thinking an elemental defeated, maybe everyone would still be alive... no, don't think about that.
Maybe you have to consider elements as peers and political entities, and make them favors to have an alliance of sorts... if such a thing is even possible. And why should one want it? To win a battle by cheating at a terrible cost?
Also because the most important takeaway from all of this is: when destruction is unleashed, there are no winners, only ashes. This is what happens when you deal with ridiculously powerful forces.
Is the way of the sword doomed in the face of magical power? Is it the last refuge of honor? Can it be made to work?
One thing is certain: during the whole battle, his burning blade never failed him. Whimsical elementals or cruel Fel, the sword is an extension of one's will. It doesn't explode, or turn on you. Thus, it is a matter of honing and sharpening that will. Or is it?
[and so it was that Grok'mash indeed went on to become a kind of Dark Knight... stealth-and-blade Orc Batman
]
I bet he never really saw a major application of Fel magic firsthand. That's a rough introduction to the field, huh. Unlike Neeru's "look at this cool thing, it's fearsome but it can make you stronger" approach. The Fel is repugnant, and not an ally.
Should he really spread the Fel magic around Azeroth? The Elder Warlocks removed themselves from the battle: they were useless at fighting and useless at countering the Elementals, going off to unleash something that they could not control and could not save their lives. Or any lives. Useless, horrific, and destructive.
The Centaurs established a connection to Proudpeak and sacrificed themselves on the mountain, in the hundreds. The Shaman was the tipping point of Proudpeak's power. [note: this may not be correct, but it's a reasonable assumption to make based on the events.]
The elements are beasts alright, but are also rulers with a will of their own. They answer to people serving them and sacrificing themselves to them, erasing themselves to give greater power to the elemental.
If you wish for an elemental to serve you, and not the other way round... do you have to break it? But even a broken elemental can be empowered by one's enemies, and turn on you so that they can be rulers once again. If he hadn't make the mistake of thinking an elemental defeated, maybe everyone would still be alive... no, don't think about that.
Maybe you have to consider elements as peers and political entities, and make them favors to have an alliance of sorts... if such a thing is even possible. And why should one want it? To win a battle by cheating at a terrible cost?
Also because the most important takeaway from all of this is: when destruction is unleashed, there are no winners, only ashes. This is what happens when you deal with ridiculously powerful forces.
Is the way of the sword doomed in the face of magical power? Is it the last refuge of honor? Can it be made to work?
One thing is certain: during the whole battle, his burning blade never failed him. Whimsical elementals or cruel Fel, the sword is an extension of one's will. It doesn't explode, or turn on you. Thus, it is a matter of honing and sharpening that will. Or is it?
[and so it was that Grok'mash indeed went on to become a kind of Dark Knight... stealth-and-blade Orc Batman
]
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- Location
- Texas
Be they warrior, warlock, or burning blademaster, they got sacrificed one way or another. RIP to the dead homies.
- Location
- Italy
Yeah there are some good takeaways here,this really should be the moment where we start questioning the Fel, and also our way of dealing with the elements, I admit my earlier analysis may have been too hasty and wrong, while the elements can be broken (and out of character we know this can work, see Garrosh's Dark shamans) is it really the way we want to do things? Not only is it pretty fucked up it also goes against our very nature and elemental affinity which is spirit, we're meant to commune and bargain with the elements, breaking them into servitude requires the opposite way of thinking and affinity (decay) and I don't think we want to do that.
- Location
- United Kingdom
Tbh I had a lot of fun giving you a specific tutor in Orgrimmar.
- Location
- Italy
Yeah I didn't check the Wiki but I had the feeling it was someone like this after the Centaur shaman called us a "shaman of darkness"
- Location
- United Kingdom
So 'Dark Shaman' is a game term. It's unlikely to be used in narrative except as it was there. If shamanism was more organised you might be described as a heretic or similar. Comparably though some shaman clearly practice dark shamanism but don't seem to be regarded poorly because of it, it's just put down to cultural differences. Same with troll stuff which is poorly defined in canon where the goodness or badness of the relevant mojo is rather arbitrary. Trolls do sacrifice magic sometimes but sometimes not etc.
Having said that, yes you totally are, and have been basically from the start.
'Ah yes patience, wisdom and respect... ok how do I best use the elements for my own desires?'
This is part of what I mean when I say the participants' remarks and reasoning will affect the internal monologue.
I'm selectively quoting here but you get the idea.
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The Battle of Dreadmist Peak 7
- Location
- United Kingdom
The shadow is faster than anything you've ever fought.
It's movement is simultaneously swift and jarring. It doesn't drift or fly like smoke, rather it whips across the plateau, lurching in a human form, then blurring as if unable to maintain its strength, only to appear again behind you or to your side.
Is the creature toying with you?
You put every ounce of skill into the battle, your body crying out, the ache as deep as your soul. You stumble across the plateau, head swimming, Baneshadow's sword almost torn from your fingers.
The Elements have deserted you and you simply can't feel even the burning of the Firelands in your gut and bones as you had before. It was as if the spiritual violence of the battle and summonings had sucked the vitality from the Elements and you found yourself clumsily parrying strike after strike, the shadowblade unnaturally curling around your sword.
As you fight fear is absent. Your mind is in your sword, too exhausted to even consider the question of who the shadow creature is or what it wants.
To your advantage it doesn't seem to be able to get close to you. It's no skill of yours but a dozen times you see your death approaching, only to then find the shadow of your enemy's sword dissipating as it draws closer.
The creature hisses, drawing itself further away toward the centre of the plateau again, then forming its sword, far darker and substantial than the previous attacks.
A cold wind blows over the ruined mountain, the air grows dark and the world shivers, sun passing behind a bank of cloud.
The shadow creature hurls it sword forward like a javelin and now, after a day of slaughter, you're simply too tired to avoid the missile and feel a burning shadow sink into your belly.
You scream, falling to the ground, sword cast away as you writhe, the darkness in you creeping across your core. It's as if you walked upon a road of swords or drank from a fiery chalice, the magic polluting your body.
Through blurred eyes you see it coming for you.
It approaches slowly, lurching and twitching as if your very presence repelled it, but then the thing begins to reach down, its fingers unnaturally long as it grasps for your throat, grasps for your life.
The blade of shadow burns in your gut… But then you hear a single word shouted across the plateau and force your head up.
"Jubei'thos!"
Akinos, Blademaster of the Burning Blade is there, proud against the darkness, blade aflame, banner flying in the blood-haze of Dreadmist.
The shadow-with-a-man's-face rises from you, turning baleful eyes on Akinos.
"You know me boy?" he asks, foulness dripping from his lips, his cloak of darkness roiling around him.
"I knew you once, I know not this thing you've become!" and fury is in the blademaster's eyes, his stance tight and wound with energy.
"Know me again then." And with that the shadow attacks, lurching forward, leaping, drawing his shadowblade around in a spin as he surges across the blunted summit.
The Blademaster disappears in a blast of wind, dodging to the side, a flash of fire too fast for you to see as he darts toward the shadow.
They're too fast for you to see, darting to and fro, only the tears in the earth and flashes of light and darkness as their swords clash. In one moment you see Akinos flying through the air as if standing on an invisible platform, darting across the new plateau, sword blazing as he runs on air.
The shadow follows him, motes of blackness spilling from him, his own blade half-invisible, the after effect clear as the darkness streaks toward Akinos. The enemy strikes half a dozen times in a single breath, as if in an instance three swords existed, all bearing down at once.
He's not unscathed but as the red and black blur together, flashes of light and darkness across the plateau you can tell the Blademaster is coming off worse. He steps on thin air, flipping and flying across the ruin, clouds of darkness oozing from every shadowed hole, collecting around interloper.
Could it truly be Jubei'thos? That Blademaster who'd served the Blackrock Clan and remained with them? How had the hero come all the way from Alterac to this dire place? How had he been changed as he had?
The questions are irrelevant ultimately but mastering your own thoughts helps you pull yourself to your knees, then unsteadily to your feet. The shadow still burns, but can you aid Akinos in his battle?
You don't know where your sword is but it's not in your hand, but you stagger over to the Blademaster, standing toward the rim of the plateau.
Akinos is bloodied. Just as tired as you, exhausted from darting to and fro and bleeding from a dozen wounds. You stand slightly behind him and see his fingers probing one on his side, deep enough that you see the whiteness of bone beneath layers of muscle.
"Remember my lessons." Akinos wheezes. He spares a brief glance back at you, though one filled with meaning, "A Blademaster is more than his sword. Remember your honour, without it you are nothing, only a weapon."
"I will." you assure him, ready to charge forward with him, ready to die alongside your mentor.
Akinos nods, turning back toward the shadow, a wind picking at his hair and clothes that you don't feel yourself, a powerful working surely.
"Remember."
The Blademaster leaps forward, but rather than a jump instead he delivers a mighty kick against your chest that drives the air from you.
You fly through the air, tumbling over and over, sky and earth, sky and earth again and again.
The winds envelop you, carrying you far from the deadly shadow, far from the mountain of your defeat.
The last clear image you see before you hit the ground is Akinos, his blade burning, shadows tearing at him, a speeding blade bearing down on him, hatred on the fiend's face as it's weapon sinks into the blademaster's flesh.
The Battle of Dreadmist Peak is lost.
Your warriors, your clan, are lost.
You have lost.
You are lost.
It's movement is simultaneously swift and jarring. It doesn't drift or fly like smoke, rather it whips across the plateau, lurching in a human form, then blurring as if unable to maintain its strength, only to appear again behind you or to your side.
Is the creature toying with you?
You put every ounce of skill into the battle, your body crying out, the ache as deep as your soul. You stumble across the plateau, head swimming, Baneshadow's sword almost torn from your fingers.
The Elements have deserted you and you simply can't feel even the burning of the Firelands in your gut and bones as you had before. It was as if the spiritual violence of the battle and summonings had sucked the vitality from the Elements and you found yourself clumsily parrying strike after strike, the shadowblade unnaturally curling around your sword.
As you fight fear is absent. Your mind is in your sword, too exhausted to even consider the question of who the shadow creature is or what it wants.
To your advantage it doesn't seem to be able to get close to you. It's no skill of yours but a dozen times you see your death approaching, only to then find the shadow of your enemy's sword dissipating as it draws closer.
The creature hisses, drawing itself further away toward the centre of the plateau again, then forming its sword, far darker and substantial than the previous attacks.
A cold wind blows over the ruined mountain, the air grows dark and the world shivers, sun passing behind a bank of cloud.
The shadow creature hurls it sword forward like a javelin and now, after a day of slaughter, you're simply too tired to avoid the missile and feel a burning shadow sink into your belly.
You scream, falling to the ground, sword cast away as you writhe, the darkness in you creeping across your core. It's as if you walked upon a road of swords or drank from a fiery chalice, the magic polluting your body.
Through blurred eyes you see it coming for you.
It approaches slowly, lurching and twitching as if your very presence repelled it, but then the thing begins to reach down, its fingers unnaturally long as it grasps for your throat, grasps for your life.
The blade of shadow burns in your gut… But then you hear a single word shouted across the plateau and force your head up.
"Jubei'thos!"
Akinos, Blademaster of the Burning Blade is there, proud against the darkness, blade aflame, banner flying in the blood-haze of Dreadmist.
The shadow-with-a-man's-face rises from you, turning baleful eyes on Akinos.
"You know me boy?" he asks, foulness dripping from his lips, his cloak of darkness roiling around him.
"I knew you once, I know not this thing you've become!" and fury is in the blademaster's eyes, his stance tight and wound with energy.
"Know me again then." And with that the shadow attacks, lurching forward, leaping, drawing his shadowblade around in a spin as he surges across the blunted summit.
The Blademaster disappears in a blast of wind, dodging to the side, a flash of fire too fast for you to see as he darts toward the shadow.
They're too fast for you to see, darting to and fro, only the tears in the earth and flashes of light and darkness as their swords clash. In one moment you see Akinos flying through the air as if standing on an invisible platform, darting across the new plateau, sword blazing as he runs on air.
The shadow follows him, motes of blackness spilling from him, his own blade half-invisible, the after effect clear as the darkness streaks toward Akinos. The enemy strikes half a dozen times in a single breath, as if in an instance three swords existed, all bearing down at once.
He's not unscathed but as the red and black blur together, flashes of light and darkness across the plateau you can tell the Blademaster is coming off worse. He steps on thin air, flipping and flying across the ruin, clouds of darkness oozing from every shadowed hole, collecting around interloper.
Could it truly be Jubei'thos? That Blademaster who'd served the Blackrock Clan and remained with them? How had the hero come all the way from Alterac to this dire place? How had he been changed as he had?
The questions are irrelevant ultimately but mastering your own thoughts helps you pull yourself to your knees, then unsteadily to your feet. The shadow still burns, but can you aid Akinos in his battle?
You don't know where your sword is but it's not in your hand, but you stagger over to the Blademaster, standing toward the rim of the plateau.
Akinos is bloodied. Just as tired as you, exhausted from darting to and fro and bleeding from a dozen wounds. You stand slightly behind him and see his fingers probing one on his side, deep enough that you see the whiteness of bone beneath layers of muscle.
"Remember my lessons." Akinos wheezes. He spares a brief glance back at you, though one filled with meaning, "A Blademaster is more than his sword. Remember your honour, without it you are nothing, only a weapon."
"I will." you assure him, ready to charge forward with him, ready to die alongside your mentor.
Akinos nods, turning back toward the shadow, a wind picking at his hair and clothes that you don't feel yourself, a powerful working surely.
"Remember."
The Blademaster leaps forward, but rather than a jump instead he delivers a mighty kick against your chest that drives the air from you.
You fly through the air, tumbling over and over, sky and earth, sky and earth again and again.
The winds envelop you, carrying you far from the deadly shadow, far from the mountain of your defeat.
The last clear image you see before you hit the ground is Akinos, his blade burning, shadows tearing at him, a speeding blade bearing down on him, hatred on the fiend's face as it's weapon sinks into the blademaster's flesh.
The Battle of Dreadmist Peak is lost.
Your warriors, your clan, are lost.
You have lost.
You are lost.
Xilentxium
Existential Crisis Management
- Location
- Temperate Regions
.... So about being a ronin
But seriously, I want to make a small shrine. To Akinos, to our warband, to Scorn. Heck even to the mage dude.
Not immediately after waking of course but some time after, when we can afford to.
But seriously, I want to make a small shrine. To Akinos, to our warband, to Scorn. Heck even to the mage dude.
Not immediately after waking of course but some time after, when we can afford to.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Hello again.
So something of a failure conga line?
There's a level of engagement that is healthy for a quest, but the only quest where I've seen this done before did not have this end well exactly because we are not the character nor are we typically making comments for the character. I do not want to trying to react to things with the back of my head going "but how is this going to make my character act like a complete and utter nut job next update."
So something of a failure conga line?
Grumbles. See this right here. Do not like.
There's a level of engagement that is healthy for a quest, but the only quest where I've seen this done before did not have this end well exactly because we are not the character nor are we typically making comments for the character. I do not want to trying to react to things with the back of my head going "but how is this going to make my character act like a complete and utter nut job next update."
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Anyway, to try and engage with the quest on some level, this is a mess on numerous levels, I'm not even sure the father is still alive since dead mist peak has apparently been turned into deadmist plateau, seemingly many of the Burning Blade's clan elders are dead, and while yeah we beat the Centaurs in spite of massive odds against us it doesn't change the fact that we are the only survivor.
I have no idea how anyone is going to react to this, if we can even get anyone to confirm that this actually happened. OOC this is probably where honourbound starts helping, since its hopefully given him a reputation for truth-telling.
Further more yes no shit boyo you're probably not the kind of good buy you wish you were, you sanctioned turning prisoners of war into a hideous, tortured fell monster. If you want to be an actual shamen, then yeah no kidding rethink your connection to the elements (see this is why I don't like that what I write here has story impact out there I don't want to have to try and justify this shit into the character's psycology, I'm lazy and I don't want to screw it over.)
As for Mr Shadowblade, well no surprises there another echo of the orcs fucked up past come to screw up everything, frankly its hard if not impossible to find something the orcs did in the past which isn't screwing them over now.
TLDR: Shits fucked and recovery is going to be a bitch, near as I can tell we've had our progress reset on just about everything and I'm not sure there even is a burning blade clan anymore.
I have no idea how anyone is going to react to this, if we can even get anyone to confirm that this actually happened. OOC this is probably where honourbound starts helping, since its hopefully given him a reputation for truth-telling.
Further more yes no shit boyo you're probably not the kind of good buy you wish you were, you sanctioned turning prisoners of war into a hideous, tortured fell monster. If you want to be an actual shamen, then yeah no kidding rethink your connection to the elements (see this is why I don't like that what I write here has story impact out there I don't want to have to try and justify this shit into the character's psycology, I'm lazy and I don't want to screw it over.)
As for Mr Shadowblade, well no surprises there another echo of the orcs fucked up past come to screw up everything, frankly its hard if not impossible to find something the orcs did in the past which isn't screwing them over now.
TLDR: Shits fucked and recovery is going to be a bitch, near as I can tell we've had our progress reset on just about everything and I'm not sure there even is a burning blade clan anymore.
I agree with your analysis! The one real benefit I see, and you touch on it, is this is a great start to a legend, orcs love someone with a legend.
Damn. Things are looking p. bad.
Best thing we can do right now is reflect on the battle andlimp back to Orgrimmar to own up to our failures.
And our successes. The regional Kolkar tribes are devastated, as requested of us by the Horde's administration.
What happens after we give our reports, well, that is beyond my ability to speculate on. We might not even have a clan to be an heir of anymore, or we might have lost our father's confidence in full.
Best thing we can do right now is reflect on the battle andlimp back to Orgrimmar to own up to our failures.
And our successes. The regional Kolkar tribes are devastated, as requested of us by the Horde's administration.
What happens after we give our reports, well, that is beyond my ability to speculate on. We might not even have a clan to be an heir of anymore, or we might have lost our father's confidence in full.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Most of the clan was safe elsewhere, in the Cleft of Shadows, or Orgrimmar. They are still there.
I don't think Neeru will be *exceedingly* angry, because it's obvious that 1600+ centaurs ready to sacrifice themselves to empower the local elements and erase the mountain were an out-of-context problem.
Of course, he will be disappointed, and... the Horde leadership may use this as a demonstration of the destructive evil of the Fel... we may end up being the fall guy that has to be exiled tosave face politically atone for the mistakes, and Feldad may allow it.
p.s. Interesting to see that the Shadow Blade couldn't harm us up close, but Akinos had no such protection. What on Azeroth...?
I don't think Neeru will be *exceedingly* angry, because it's obvious that 1600+ centaurs ready to sacrifice themselves to empower the local elements and erase the mountain were an out-of-context problem.
Of course, he will be disappointed, and... the Horde leadership may use this as a demonstration of the destructive evil of the Fel... we may end up being the fall guy that has to be exiled to
p.s. Interesting to see that the Shadow Blade couldn't harm us up close, but Akinos had no such protection. What on Azeroth...?
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- Location
- United Kingdom
And then, in the classical tradition and following the steps of various people like the 47 Ronin, you take up the shattered blade of your mentor and cut open your belly and bleed out in the dirt.
Or something.
I've read that in the early 20th century in Japan the last generation of samurai kept trying to commit suicide whenever they lost battles or even took too many losses and this really annoyed everyone else because they thought it was being too dramatic etc:
I seem to recall one account (which I'm not sure was fictional or not) where someone heard the Emperor was dead and so runs to Nogi's quarters because they know he's going to try and commit seppuku and they want to stop him so he can continue to serve etc.
Depends what you mean really, some stuff has gone fine, it's just that 'Hunted' came into play finally.
So thanks for mentioning this firstly, it's useful to get feedback.
To address some of the points individually, firstly, I don't usually take individual posts, it's more a general feel of the thread. For example, people have been consistently interested in somehow reviving the Blademasters, so I've made this one of the in character motivations. If comparably you'd all not really been into it then the character wouldn't care. Similarly there some stuff that just won't go in. Someone keeps wanting to be a punk rocker with a guitar and a motorbike but while amusing that's silly so I don't imagine you'll be likely to do that.
Comparably there's some stuff in the middle, like being a samurai. That can go in a bit, but won't go in all the way because the cultural translation of that doesn't work as well.
The reason I'm using this method is to pursue the aims of the quest, just like I designed an unusual character creation with the 'more obligations means more points to spend' thing. I want to explore these obligations and create a character because I often perceive the MCs of other quests to be pretty bland and cardboardy. If I just write them as taking on various obligations I sort of predicted people would get disgruntled and start saying 'we didnt vote to do all this I dont want to do it' etc, as such I'm giving you the options to involve yourself with various things and have the choice to do so.
I also though want to do this organically. The thread isn't decided on whether to go with fel stuff or not, though I think most people (or at least most people who post) are leaning toward it for various reasons. I don't want to just give you an option in a vote or similar between taking the fel from feldad and not taking it. To expand on this,
In the thread so far people have gone further and further into the traditions of Dark Shamanism, which is basically about forcing the elements to do stuff. It would be very crude for me just to give a vote to do or not do it, so I rely on everyone's remarks and votes to shape the character's perceptions. I had Angrais directly say in one of the earlier chapters 'youre supposed to treat the elements with respect', but I also gave the option to use force, which everyone's gone with. Same with prisoner sacrificing, that was something voted, though there were a few posts saying 'im not massively comfortable with this' and so on, which again goes into the character. Grok'mash isn't very comfortable with it but he sees it as necessary.
As another example, there's a general hostility to Kul Tiras, which can now be in character because the Kul Tirans have been messing about and are problematic.
That's the sort of way I use in thread comments to inform the planning. Same with reasoning for votes, I want people to say why they're doing things, to build up a continuum of history and activity which I can use to inform the characterisation, which I think has gone pretty well so far. This allows me to write Grok as this honourable but conflicted character who wants to please his father etc and make his clan powerful, rather than just writing some generic orc character who's desires vacillate with the whims of the votes and questers.
Having said all that, I'm very interested in feedback from you and indeed others on this. I think the characterisation is going well so far, but I definitely don't want you to feel like you can't contribute because I'm going to use your reasoning etc, I do want it to be a positive method rather than something that disenfranchises people.
And on this point, 1 of 3 of the main bases has been destroyed, but you've still got random warlocks and blademasters scattered about, you've got the guys in Desolace and also Orgrimmar.
"Hey so you said you wanted to win the war so we just glassed the country, that's cool right? medals plz, oh and ignore the rock monster marching on our city"
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