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July 30, 2015, 12:03:59 PM
Rise of Clan Felblade
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“By Mannoroth’s blood, who would -ever- have thought I would be glad to see you again?”
Akesh the Poisoner’s eyes shone a sickly bright green, sparkling keenly with infinite malevolence as he regarded his captive. Bound in chains with a coarse burlap sack over his head, the prisoner still seemingly had some fight in him — he squirmed and growled, struggling against his bonds even now.
Akesh paused, his clawed hands clasping together, as he savoured the sight of the captive squirming and flailing in the jungle muck and vines. His prisoner’s once-gleaming armor was now filthy, disheveled and ragged; and at last, he let out a muffled wheeze of protest and ceased his writhing, just panting pathetically now.
Not broken yet… but so close to the brink, the Poisoner thought. Akesh’s cracked lips parted and twisted into a maddened smirk, as he afforded himself a moment to gloat, a guttural chuckle rumbling from his taut, muscular body. The captive was still, his chest rising and falling weakly.
“Let us see that face once again,” Akesh grinned down to the captive, pulling the sack off his head with a sadistic flourish.
Akesh’s piercing eyes narrowed as he scrutinised Grenth Stonebrow, now glaring silently at him through tired-looking slits. Grenth’s long, narrow face was still unmistakably proud and brown-skinned — but covered in cuts, bruises and sores, with an overgrown and tangled beard. Even now, he was still crowned with his iconic armored wolf-mask. All the better, the Poisoner mused to himself.
“Did my orcs mistreat you, oh King of Wolves? I must humbly beg forgiveness, I only commanded that you were brought back… alive.” Grenth gave no response, so the Poisoner snapped his sharp ochre fangs in amusement and spoke again.
“Life is full of choices,” Akesh lectured, pacing restlessly back and forth amongst the thick jungle overgrowth. “When I rose against you and your kind to serve a greater master, you chose to condemn me to exile rather than take my head. That was a mistake.
“And then, when I returned to seize -my- Clan and defeated you, the mighty Wolfking fled and went into exile himself. That too was a mistake. Two long winters you hid from us. And you hid well, far from our prying eyes. But there is no escape save for death. I might have killed you, once. But now, I have other plans for you.”
Akesh flexed his grotesque claws idly, then slowly withdrew from his satchel a rounded flask glowing ominously with eldritch glyphs. It contained a bubbling green liquid, and Grenth could feel its heat irradiating outwards. A dire energy emanated from within the flask, its very presence casting shadows about the undergrowth.
Grenth’s weary bloodshot eyes widened at the sight, and he spoke at last.
Akesh’s manic grin returned. “I see fear in your eyes, my old friend. But there is no reason to be afraid.”
The Poisoner straightened his back, looking at the flask as if momentarily mesmerized. Grenth’s eyes darted up and down his form with a kind of exhausted panic, noticing for the first time the strange growths protruding from Akesh’s shoulderblades.
“Unto Grenth of the Line of Kraag, I bestow this gift — the blood of rebirth, the nectar of ecstacy, the same blessing of unity offered to all orcs by the great Gul’dan and his Shadow Council. We have all drank eagerly, and we have been reborn as Clan Felblade — now submit to me and accept this gift, or you will know the pain of a thousand deaths.”
Grenth’s jaw clenched, and straining against his iron bonds, he spoke slowly, his indignant voice still carrying the same weight and authority of a Chieftain.
“By the spirits, I will not bow,” he spat at Akesh, “I will not bend my knee to you or any orc, and I will not submit to this madness. You have damned our Clan twice over, foul Poisoner, and enslaved its soul for the sake of your thirst for power.”
Akesh looked back at Grenth and cackled madly, his cracked ashen skin visible beneath his iron armor. “What you say amuses me! The only thirst is bloodthirst, and I have tasted the enemy’s blood, trampled the weak underfoot, and delivered -my- Clan from hiding in caves and shivering in the snow to conquerers serving a Legion with power beyond your reckoning!”
Grenth shook his head sadly. “By my honor, I will never—"
Akesh interrupted Stonebrow, snarling. “Silence,” he demanded. “Now -you- will listen and I will speak, wretch. As I have said, life is full of choices — and as you have chosen to refuse this gift, you will have it forced upon you.”
Akesh clenched the flask tight in his grip as he began to chant in the dae’mon’s tongue. Grenth growled angrily as his body began to levitate from the undergrowth, still immobilised by his bonds. With a flick of his wrist and more foul words, Akesh invoked a circle of demonic sigils on the ground under Stonebrow, who let out a howl of intense pain. The iron chains binding him began to glow with the same bright-green sigils, the metal heating up and scalding his flesh as it began to fuse with his skin.
Entirely helpless and suspended in mid-air, Grenth writhed in agony. His chains were now permanently melded to his form, smoke rising from his burnt flesh. Akesh took slow strides towards him, still muttering the dark invocations — and uncorked the flask, waves of heat and light irradiating upwards. He forced the flask to his former Chieftain’s lips and spoke forcefully.
A New Dawn & A New Trailer
Feast your eyes upon our brand-new recruitment trailer, made especially for Orcs of the Red Blade's move to Argent Dawn on the 9th of June 2015! Best enjoyed in full-screen and 1080p resolution, it features cinematography and voice-work by Kozgugore, a soundtrack mixed by Sadok, and a cast of over 30 Red Blades!
For more information about our migration from Defias Brotherhood to Argent Dawn, please use the following quick links:
A New Dawn
On Tuesday the 9th of June 2015, Orcs of the Red Blade
are moving to the Argent Dawn
RP realm after just under ten years on Defias Brotherhood
RP-PvP. We have enjoyed our many years on Defias, and are proud to have been a strong and stable cornerstone of its RP community for months shy of a decade.
But after a consultation phase of soliciting the opinions and feedback of our core membership, a clear majority have decided that moving realms will provide Orcs of the Red Blade with more roleplay opportunities, from new friendships with Horde guilds to exciting encounters with the Alliance community, allowing us to remain faithful to our RP-PvP roots in a way that Defias can no longer offer.
Argent Dawn, with its larger playerbase and wider range of guild concepts, will provide our members with both a more satisfying roleplay experience, from casual tavern nights to wider campaign focuses, and a more sustainable, stable home from which the Red Blade tribe can only grow and prosper.
There’s only one thing missing, however: YOU!
Orcs of the Red Blade’s continued success relies on the enthusiasm and activity of its dedicated members, and so our motto for this transfer is very simple: “No Orc Left Behind.”
We are currently raising funds amongst our members to pay for realm-transfers for those who cannot afford the switch, with the intention of retaining as close to all
of our active core membership as possible. It is our hope that every
Red Blade is able to migrate successfully to our new home, so we have the strongest possible start on Argent Dawn. You will find threads in the members-only section of our forums for those that either wish to donate or require a donation themselves.
If you are interested in joining Orcs of the Red Blade and are on Defias Brotherhood, please be aware of this transfer before you apply. If you are rolling a new character for the guild or are transferring a character from another realm, it is recommended you do this on Argent Dawn ahead of the move.
Understandably, this period of transition will leave some of you with questions or concerns, and the officer-team are available to handle any and all queries related to our realm transfer. Please contact Kozgugore, Sadok, Rhonya, Therak or Gridish should you require any further information.
Then, Now and Forever… For the Blood of the Tribe~!
Between A Rock And A Kosh'harg Place
In past years, the Red Blades came to see their biannual Kosh’harg celebrations in Nagrand as something of a reprieve. A safe haven amongst Outland’s more dangerous and corrupt regions, the Land of Winds was a home away from home. Orcs would tell tales around the Garadar campfire, spar at the Ring of Trials, hunt the majestic talbuk and mighty clefthoof of the land — and of course, on the anointed day of the Kosh’harg Festival, trek out to the Spirit Mountain of Oshu’gun to give tribute to the ancestors and feast amongst their allies.
But the Red Blades are not upon Outland, but its primordial alternate antecedent of Draenor. When the latest Kosh’harg season came about upon the vernal equinox, they made the customary pilgrimage to its version of Nagrand. Yet the tribe found not a haven but a hornets’ nest of Warsong war-riders, Gorian centurions in stone-wrought battlements, and oversized, ferocious beasts. Everything had changed, and the Red Blades would have to abandon their prior knowledge of Outland’s Nagrand in hopes of mapping out the dangers of this savage Land of Winds.
Nothing proved sacred to the ruthless Iron Horde. The traditional Kosh’harg grounds, nestled in the foothills of Oshu’gun, had been annexed and fortified by the Warsong Clan. Eager to avoid defiling hallowed ground with bloodshed, and moreover, desirous to celebrate the Festival safely without the threat of ambush, the tribe were forced to hold the Festival upon a high, remote clifftop within view of the Spirit Mountain. With the Red Blades' allies in the Horde arriving on their own business or to commemorate the Kosh’harg, the Festival itself came and passed without violent incident. This indeed proved a relief for those weary of war and past internal bickering amongst the banners of the Horde Gathering.
As the sun set on the Kosh’harg Festival, the Spirit Mountain appeared as magnificent as ever amongst the picturesque Nagrand landscape. Yet not all was quite as it seemed — spiritualists approaching Oshu’gun reported feeling an off-putting tension in the air, and south of the mountain, a strange sort of eldritch corruption had begun to wither away the trees of the Spirit Woods and its beasts. Something was foul in the region, and whether the result of the Iron Horde’s machinations or something darker yet, it would have to be put to an end for the sake of the ancestral spirits dwelling within the Spirit Mountain.
Yet more immediate dangers would soon confront the Red Blades. Guerrilla assaults were hatched to stem Iron Horde aggression in the area, and try and make the roads of Nagrand a safer place for travellers — yet it proved clear that the tribe were hopelessly outmatched and outnumbered, and whatever impact they might have, it was certain to be temporary. News that the Iron Horde had allied with the ogres of Highmaul proved distressing, but emboldened the orcs to begin considering strikes against their holdings.
The Iron Horde and Gorian Empire were not the only organised threats facing the tribe, however. Reports of encroaching and hostile Alliance forces began to appear, and then, danger struck from the most unlikely of places. An unassuming sheep that had been High Blade Sharptongue’s pet and companion of late turned out to be the exiled warlock turned peon Luk Vileclaw. Though eventually captured and executed, with his soul imprisoned within Gul’thauk Blackblade’s runeblade to prevent an unholy resurrection, Luk’s brief violent and manic appearance had involved brainwashing Gul’thauk Throatrender and injuring several orcs along the way to an assassination attempt on the High Blade.
Throughout all of these many perils, the Red Blade tribe has held strong, and through the rigors of adversity, they have bonded closer yet. The Kosh’harg Season has drawn to a close, and their attention is beginning to turn from the Warsong strongholds of Nagrand to more vulnerable areas upon Draenor. To where will the Red Blades ride next? Only time will tell.
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