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“Imagine your Axe disappearing from your hands, your Shield crumble into ash, imagine the feeling of desperation and fear as your kin die around you.”- Gashuk Felhand
Dimmed in the shadows of Oshu'gun they gathered, Shaman from every clan lay in waiting all gathering for Ner'zhul the Elder Shaman and his loyal Apprentice Gul'dan. Gashuk knew Gul'dan well, being the son of Farseer Garrak was no mean feat and required a hell of a lot of dedication to the Shadowmoon Clan and it's shamanistic core. Gashuk had known many a Kosh'harg festival, spent many a evening in deep meditation within the Mountain's warm hold communing with the orcish ancestors that rest within yet Kosh'harg was months away and with the draenei threat looming down it was clear that the gathering of the Shaman wasn't a occasion of ritual. There was no surprise then Gashuk and the rest of the Shaman of higher status were the first to march to the Mountain of Spirits in demand to know why or how the ancestors ignored their pleas, this was unlike any gathering before, this was War.
“The Ancestors have forsaken us! We anger them! The Elements ignore our pleas!”, every cry was the same Shaman both young and old angry yet in mourning of the connection they once had, every Clan had suffered losses in this War and especially so now the Shaman had no power over fire, earth, water and wind. Echoed throughout the gathering however came the words of Ner'zhul.
“It is indeed true that the elements no longer answer the shaman's call for aid, some of you have, upon discovering this, leaped to a conclusion that what we are doing is wrong. But that is incorrect. What We are doing is achieving power the likes of which We have never seen. My apprentice, the noble Gul'dan, has studied these powers. I will let him answer any questions you have.”*
Odd, Gashuk thought that Ner'zhul would so readily hand over to his Apprentice, surely this 'power' he spoke of was one he too wielded, regardless every Orc had their head turned to the great Gul'dan as he spoke with even more confidence and finesse than his Master before him.
"What I am about to tell you may be hard for you to accept, but I have faith that my people are not close-minded when it comes to ways to better themselves, just as we were surprised and awed to learn that there were powerful beings other than the ancestors and the elements, we have discovered that there are ways to harness magic other than cooperating with the elements. Power that is not predicated on asking or begging or pleading, power that comes because we are strong enough to demand it to come. To control it when it does. To force it to obey us, bend to our will, rather than the other way around."*
It sounded too good to be true, the Shadowmoon Shaman had heard whispers of this new Power, the kind of damage it could deal and some had even scouted sight of the Draenei prisoners that Gul'dan and his chosen few Blackrock Orcs had developed them upon. The same prisoners that Gul'dan ordered to be marched with him to the Mountain laying shackled and defeated on the floor, the same prisoners that now had fire and shadow launched at them by the once Shaman and their new...Well they could only be described as Pets, scraping the floor with their curled nails, small to be sure but the fire they unleashed looked wicked and with every successful bolt they squealed in glee. Others had summoned different pets, blue masses of energy that beat the prisoners with large fists of shadow and some even had batlike wings, hooves and a fair body squeezed into leathers that wielded cruel whips that cracked by the Shaman's sides.
It wasn't any of these however that caught the attention of Gashuk, no, it was the creature on all fours, large spiked tendrils emitting from it's back as it snarled and bore teeth like a savage wolf. This was glorious, could this truly be the answer? Yes, it had to be and as the shouts grew in tempo, Gashuk reared his head and yelled alongside his kin “For the Shaman!”
"NO! No longer are they shaman. They were abandoned by the elements—they will call them no longer and beg for their aid. Behold those who have power, and who are not afraid to wield it. Behold , . . the warlocks!" *
Gul'dan's words pierced through the gathering like a knife, Warlocks. It felt so right. Eagerly Garrak pushed to the front of the gathering and alongside his fellow Shadowmoon deftly drew blades to sacrifice blood in honour of the creatures, Gashuk swiftly followed suit and immediately drew to his bloodpool came one of the wolf-demons, licking the powerful blood like a pup to water, slurping it eagerly. Gul'dan cackled, Ner'zhul was nowhere to be seen now but nobody cared. They all circled around the Blackrock that had been gifted the first Warlocks and demanded to know their tricks, their sorcery and one by one the instructions were shared, large tomes called Grimoires were offered and before long the powerful once-Shaman had grasps over what they were about to use.
Gashuk's attention had never left the wolf-demon, now known as a Felhound, trained to be a Felhunter by their master and it was time to summon his own. Apparently these creatures reacted to those who knew their names and part of Gul'dan's gift was a scroll covered in blood red ink reading names of these creatures in which the new Warlock's deftly called out in their incantations. Luushon, it felt like a song around Gashuk's tongue, soft and tribal. It was perfect and as he drew his breath drawing energy from within himself he called out the soft name, not once, but six times as taught and had offerings of his Blood and talbuk meat around him ready for the starving hound. The feeling was like no other, it was a rush that even the fire spirits couldn't evoke as two minds became one, the Felhunter Luushon charging to his Master's call eagerly devouring the offerings like a savage wolf. Grinning, Gashuk turned to his Father, who also summoned a Felhunter. Immediately the two ordered their minions to leap upon the prisoners, and under a legion of demons, the two tortured draenei cried their last screams.
*, excerpts from the Rise of the Horde by Christie Golden.
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