Arkail-Finding the Exiled

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Arkail-Finding the Exiled

Post by Arkail Blastblade on Sun Jun 08, 2014 12:33 pm

((This is an old short backstory i wrote. It's pre-siege of Orgrimmar))

Arkail awoke and stretched without thinking he took a deep gulp of air into his lungs.... fetid rancid air. He broke out into a coughing fit, stumbling to his desk searching though it's draws till he found it, a vial of a course paste opening it discarding the lid as he went. He dabbed the paste under each nostril and his eyes watered, the paste was a smelling salt, steadying himself he sat down.

With a click of his fingers and he lit the aged candle upon his desk that illuminated the room and Arkail. with a reluctant sigh said: "Undercity what a charming aroma you have for me today"

He was a young Orc of average height, he would be considered scrawny by his peoples standards, if it wasn’t for his quick wit and natural intelligence he would have been labelled a peon and sent to bang his head against something till either it broke or he did.

He had been studying In the Undercity now for near a decade now. The world around him been though various degrees of calamity and life and death shengians and Arkail had kind of noticed them when he wasn't in his tomes and scrolls. He did remember something about a uprising in the Undercity a few years back and whole lot of racket but they hadn't bothered him so he took it as none of his business he tried to remember that name as he tapped his finger upon his chin.

A large bang at his door broke him from his line of thought and as it seemed broke his flimsy door, sending it crashing to the ground sending dust to envelop the room and insects to scurry about it a frenzy.

Waving his hand and squinting Arkail could see the figure in the doorway, it was Folgren “something or other” a Forsaken. Folgren was once a human that lived in Lordareon and was of some renown, he had heard from somewhere from someone. But now he was little more than a librarian with his usual detached blank stare he greeted Arkail his jaw unhinged at one end
"Scrolls you wanted"
He garbled in Gutterspeak, Folgren dropped the scrolls where he stood in the doorway spun on his bony heel and left. Arkail grumbling walked over and picked them up such disregard for knowledge annoyed him more than the disregard his kind had against anything with a pulse, but no matter he thought this should hold what he needed.

Arkail gazed over the scroll running his fingers over the symbols it was written in Taurahe but had been transcribed various times to many languages but from what he believed to be a Orcish dialect from Draenor.

In a string of curses Arkail of various languages he flung the Scrolls across his room sending more insects to scurry into the dark crevices that the room hosted. His face reddened the scroll was useless snearing he said:
"How to skin and process Talbuk hide? what horn headed fool of a Tauren would translate that in from this form of Orcish"
He sat breathing heavily he would have to venture out and seek what he needed in the world he resigned to himself. Last he knew Orgrimmar had flourished into a city of it's own under the wise leadership of Thrall; son of Durotar. It would be there he would have to go...such a  hassle and waste of good reading time he thought. He packed up his things and made sure he had everything he needed: walking staff, thick warm cloak, belt knife, comfortable clothes and books inks scrolls which stuffed into a satchel.
He set out to Orgrimmar trampling his door underfoot as he did.

The hot midday sun baked over Orgrimmar as Arkail approached the city, Arkail had forgotten how arid and hot it could be here, most uncomfortable if you're used too a dark dank stinking fetid pit in the bowls of the Undercity he smirked as he let the thought enter his mind.

He was stopping briefly to admire Orgrimmar in all her glory when two large Orcs prodded him in the back making him lose his train of thought which in the particular climate was enough to nearly send him over the edge... but he never the less remained calm. The two Orc’s that had interrupted his thoughts where as large as they looked stupid, thick scars ran down one of there faces and the other... well the other had a face only a mother could love.

Arkail greeted the Orcs in a honorable way bowing his head slightly and introducing himself, which was replied only with loud spit flinging hail of laughter into Arkail's face

"He talks odd like a human or something don’t he Gronk ?" One said to another
"Bet he be some kind of human loving traitor trying to learn of Hellscreams plans" The other Orc said

Arkail in-between dodging flem from the Orc's flapping gums let there talkative noise drown out and began to think.

He knew the name Hellscream & it's history, who didn’t he smirked, but he had long passed from this world and his son was in Outland. What where these simpletons on about and had his years away from his kind changed his accent so much he had grown up in the interment camps he considered himself a Orc and a damm proud Orc even if his code of honour was not of steel and strength but of knowledge and history.

They broke his line of thought with a prod again into his chest and Arkail's eyes flared wide and he was back into the present.

"You a traitor huh little puny Orc,what do you do to serve Hellscream?"

"I seek knowledge" Arkail replied calmly. Not wanting to show his cards just let

"Bah what good is that when you got a axe & droves of human filth seeking to kill you"

With that Arkail's bottom lip curled into a smile and he said:

"Want to see a trick ?"

The two Orcs stopped and seemed to be interested but before they could answer Arkail drew back his fist as it began to glow in a purplish light striking the scarred Orc in the face shattering a tusk and knocking him out cold, before the other Orc could draw his axe Arkail out stretched his hand releasing a blast of energy hitting the Second orc in his chest at point blank range and sending flying back unconscious.

Arkail’s regained his compose the arcane always left him breathless as a result of being self taught. His gaze slowly drifted back to the city's wall interesting architecture similar yet evolved from that on Draenor.

Arkail entered the Orgrimmar and muttered to himself....

He had been only been in Orgrimmar only a few hours and from what he had seen he wasn’t impressed, Fear gripped the city it was palpable Kor’Kron seemed to be funneling non orcs this way and that, the markets of Orgrimmar in which he had heard so much about full of exotic wares and food from every place on Azeroth were now barren and empty. He made his way though the streets windows slammed shut as he drew near. Out the corner of his eye there were movements in the shadows people conversing making deals. Nice to know the black market still flourished criminals always found a way to make money it seemed no matter the city or situation.

He arrived a tavern and when he entered the entire population of it stopped and turned to face him. He wetted his lips and stared back ready to see what would happen, after a few moments the patrons of the tavern returned to their games of chance and conversations. He sat down and ordered a mug of wine  much to the innkeepers amusement and mirth he was a elderly orc of Draenor origin brown skinned untainted… interesting Arkail thought, he had no time to quiz the old orc for his life story he needed a plan to find these red blades maybe they had been merged into another tribe, he scribbled in his journal, occasionally sipping from his tankard stopping every now and then to ponder any or all situations.

Several hours passed and he had kept to himself it was now dusk and the tavern filled up more all were orcs no other races could be seen, the taverns mood was sombre like something that was afraid to be said. Arkail was lost in this thought when the Old orc innkeeper brought him a fresh mug of wine and with the swiftest of movements muttered something into his ear.
“That fella over there has been watching you since you came in do you know him?” The old orc gestured subtly with his eyes to a darkened corner of the tavern a silhouette of large orc could be seen unmoving staring though his face was hidden. Arkail didn’t respond and the old orc snorted something about the youth of today and went back to his duties. Arkail stared back into the darkness shrouden figure he was  intrigued moments passed and he finished his wine with a gulp, he headed towards the large silhouette.

Are you looking for something friend? He inquired to the shadowy figure, the figure only lit a pipe his face now visible he stared back and said.“No, I believe you are, come to the cleft of shadow alone… scholar of undercity in one hour you will find what you seek.

*A hour passed*.

He found himself walking though the darkened streets of the cleft the place was empty, a eerie kind of empty he felt he was being watched… suddenly it all went dark he was hit by some kind of magic he was bound and his head covered by a bag a final blow rendered him unconscious. He woke to the sound of a conversation which he couldn’t make out it, he could  tell it was a argument his vision stopped spinning and he see could four or five various people gathered around the dimly lit room. A reassuring hand fell upon his shoulder the orc from the bar moved in front of Arkail and said: “Sorry brother a nessercary precaution we saw your little display as you entered the city with those off duty kor’krons”.
“Kor’krons? Arkail replied what? Kor’krons those lunk headed sons of ogres were Kro’krons ?”
He let out a chuckle and said
“what do you fine gentlemen want of me then?“ rubbing the back of head he felt a thick raised lump there.
"Your not a friend of the kor’kron or our “warchief”  may the ancestors tear him apart in the next world he said with a hiss, I’m Brokka Felfoul a student warlock the people you see around you are friends."

Arkail shifted his gazed around the assembled group each nodding as they where introduced.
Janos of the forsaken a priest of shadow she entered your mind as you slept she is the reason you’re not dead and that we greet you as a friend. Yuji Flamebender a shaman of the warsong tribe, he knows where you will find what you seek and his friend and blood brother Huruk Bloodhoof a sunwalker we are a part of the "resistance". He nodded at each of them, saying quite a group of individuals indeed…

Brokka had explained in detail the extent of the pit of madness that Orgrimmar had become no free thinking individual was safe from the Kor’krons grasp and that they were planning small exodus whenever they where able from the city and explained that this is where he came in they needed more firepower to break though the blockades that stopped people leaving if things went bad. The city freely he said let most people enter, none could leave.

It was then for the first time Yuji spoke a gruff, honourable old orc: “You seek the red blade tribe they have been exiled I believe they are close to Winterspring as we speak, a long trek, i'm sure with our help you will reach them before they move out of reach”

Huruk the sunwalker interjected and said: “They also have no love for the warchief they still believe in the horde though, brother Yuji do you? “ Yuji slammed his fist upon the table with a grin he said: ” My life for the horde”

"Yes yes" said Brokka "lets not get off topic we need to leave as soon as possible Arkail I know you’ve been studying arcane and are quite the Arcanist even if you wont admit it we will need that extra firepower, we will be transporting various like minded citizens though the blockade are you up it?"
I’m a simple scholar Arkail said with a snort of defiance.
“We have no time for games Arkail are you with us" Brokka said he face reddening.
“A warlock that cares for his fellow man my, my we are a quite a group but i'm with you if it gets me to what I seek” Brokka smirked and said  “You will find more about oneself when you take your head out of a book and learn what the real world is Arkail you will find that out soon enough believe me.”

Suddenly with a hiss Jolan The priest interrupted and spoke: "we have been found we must leave now or perish" her Orcish was terrible, yet the intent was clear.
Brokka flew into a state of readiness grabbing things and giving orders Arkail watched him he was a boy even by his standards yet so driven and focused most pleasing to see he watched him attatched a message to a foot of raven and let it loose.
"Damm them blasted Kor’krons" Brokka said as he spat.

They rushed to the meeting point a small group of people had gathered, simple familes mostly, all well armed carrying their meager possesions. It was then the Kor’kron choose to reveal themselves surrounding them, they had been betrayed a Young orc from the exiles gathered laughed as and he went to join the kor’krons, as he did Brokka flew into a rage a dark bolt of energy burst from his palm spilting it open and striking the betrayer in the back of the head sending flipping him over in rain of red inards, dead.

Battle was upon them, Kor’kron were taking no prisoners.
Arkail kept his head down doing his best to keep himself alive striking out with his stave and letting out a few bolts of energy here and there not wanting to exert himself he tried to remain calm, this was his first battle since he left the camps many of the group gathered were dead still clinging to their possessions.

It was then in the chaos he noticed the forsaken priest had been overwhelmed Arkail watched helplessly as she fell spouting curses upon them shadows dancing around her as she disappeared behind the stabbing blades of the Kor'krons.
Overwhelmed they began to slowly try and retreat to the gates, things seemed bleak. It was then Yuji roared and let out a gout of flame which created a wall and some protection, he had been wounded mortally several arrows had pierced him, with a snort he growled.

“ Flee brothers flee  I’ve got this..Ancestors give me strength” Blood pouring from his mouth , he roared and charged over the flames engaging many Kor’krons at once in an attempt of holding them back.
With a sombre nod Brokka did his best to round up the few remaining survivors not clinging to the dead and began to sprint though the gates and to their waiting mounts. It was then Arkail noticed the tauren sunwalker was not with them he turned to see the Tauren re-enter the city weapon raised, Brokka gave Arkail a glance and both knew why he returned.
Interesting Arkail thought the tales are true Tauren where loyal to those considered friends the nature of the oath, it was greater than there instinct of self preservation. He had hoped to speak with the Tauren about his vocation. A pity such a waste.

They reached the town of razor hill some time later, it was there Brokka and his survivors split company with Arkail  they where heading south he was heading east to find the exiled Red blade he thought briefly of joining Brokka and his party south,  his journey felt more important he should record and learn all he can from the tribe. He knew that now more than ever the importance of recording ones history because that it is all we truly leave behind for the future and the future of the Orcish raced seemed in danger of heading back to the old ways of senseless war and mindless bloodlust. He mounted the Wyvern and set a past east for Winterspring.

The cold night air of Wintersping lapped at face he drew his cloak in around him & patted the Wyvern letting the flight master take it, He entered a small settlement of goblins, noise of revilement could be heard coming from it’s tavern Orcish songs and voices could be heard.
Arkail Blastblade

Posts : 15
Join date : 2014-06-08
Location : Ireland

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Name: Arkail

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