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Thursday, February 28, 2008
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Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Warrior Tanking vs. the WORLD! part 1
Welcome, welcome, welcome. I'm writing this to collect my thoughts on HOW to tank with a Warrior.
The WoW Official Forums are alight with the fires of mutiny. Each day, a new post is created debating the Warrior's ability to tank vs that of the "others."
I'll just come right out and say that anyone who posts against Ciderhelm is already fighting an uphill battle (just because it's Cider... I mean, an almost 12000 Shield Slam caught on video? The dude knows his stuff and has rabid fans!).
So, here's my take on Warrior tanking.
vs. Pally - Warriors don't have the initial AoE burst that Pally's can dish out.
vs. Druid - Warriors can DPS at the same level.
That's it, IMO.
I can survive, better in most cases, most encounters than either a pally or druid.
I can save, through taunt and other "oh crap" buttons, a pull from becoming a wipe.
I love watching a Pally AoE tank. It looks like a blast!
I love watching a Druid tank climb the DPS charts and take the big hits. Wish I could!
But I'm a Warrior. I pull and I grind. I make damn sure that no matter how big the incoming hits, incoming heals, DPS output or other factors, are, I keep that ugly mob staring at my devilshly Orcish grin.
I can pull a mob back to me faster than the other two classes. I have more tools at my disposal for when things go "wrong."
And things always go "wrong."
This next part is my order of Threat Creation that I use. I do TAB target and I MARK all my targets - I've made macros listening what each Mark is for and their kill order (KO - skull, x, square, moon, star).
1. Shield Slam - most encounters, I have Blood Fury popped so I'm building my 36 rage, enough to open on my Skull mark with a Shield Slam. Insta big threat!
2a. Devastate - Round fo everyone! Put 2 on your skull then pass 'em around if you have multi-mobs.
2b. Thunderclap - If you had a BIG pull and large heals are going to be incoming, you need to Thunderclap to prevent healer aggro on your other targets (x, square, moon, star). Once you get the TC in, hit each mark with a Devastate to keep the threat up and then go back to smackin' the skull.
3. Revenge - It lights up on Dodges, Blocks, or Parries. Hit it. If you spec'd 43 points into the Prot tree (a la this), Revengel should only cost ya 2 Rage. Hit it every chance you get. If your group is running a threat meter and you are WAY up on the threat, tab to 2nd on DPS and hit them with it. Just hit it.
4. Heroic Strike - Rage dump. If you are over 40 rage, pop it. Once I have 5 Devastates, I switch to spamming HS on the DPS target of the moment. HS hits hard with 5 Sunder Effects and I just refresh the Sunder Armor when needed with a Devastate.
The problem I have, and it's not a big problem, is finding out whether I should spam Shield Block on every refresh. I do. I try to run with a heavy DPS group (no mages, sadly. Don't know where they all went??) so I don't worry about trying to kill the mobs faster as my DPS output (little as it be) is less important than my Healer's Mana.
Every refresh, I'm hitting Shield Block. I also keep Demoralizing Shout and Battle Shout up at all times.
I think I'm going to run a WoW Web Stat for my instance runs tonight to start playing around with how it works. It looks pretty nifty and it'd be a nice tool to see if I'm actually working within these rules.
Right now, 'cause I'm not in Heroics and trying to save money, I don't run with Potions (except healing) or Elixirs. I know there are some great ones out there but I can spend TONS of cash on those if I'm not careful. And, because I usually PUG, I die a lot. I hate losing the bonuses through death. So I don't.
I'm also not Gemming with the super popular all +STA gems. I'm trying to grab the socket bonuses and bumping my avoidance/defense. I'll have a bit less HP (I still socket blues with +9 STA and others with +4 STA where I can) but I'll be using less healer mana because I'll avoid attacks.
The problems I'm reading about (but not experiencing) is that gemming this way at higher tiers reduces your Rage by quite a bit. I don't know yet but I'll be looking to find out when I get there.
**End of Part 1**
The WoW Official Forums are alight with the fires of mutiny. Each day, a new post is created debating the Warrior's ability to tank vs that of the "others."
I'll just come right out and say that anyone who posts against Ciderhelm is already fighting an uphill battle (just because it's Cider... I mean, an almost 12000 Shield Slam caught on video? The dude knows his stuff and has rabid fans!).
So, here's my take on Warrior tanking.
vs. Pally - Warriors don't have the initial AoE burst that Pally's can dish out.
vs. Druid - Warriors can DPS at the same level.
That's it, IMO.
I can survive, better in most cases, most encounters than either a pally or druid.
I can save, through taunt and other "oh crap" buttons, a pull from becoming a wipe.
I love watching a Pally AoE tank. It looks like a blast!
I love watching a Druid tank climb the DPS charts and take the big hits. Wish I could!
But I'm a Warrior. I pull and I grind. I make damn sure that no matter how big the incoming hits, incoming heals, DPS output or other factors, are, I keep that ugly mob staring at my devilshly Orcish grin.
I can pull a mob back to me faster than the other two classes. I have more tools at my disposal for when things go "wrong."
And things always go "wrong."
This next part is my order of Threat Creation that I use. I do TAB target and I MARK all my targets - I've made macros listening what each Mark is for and their kill order (KO - skull, x, square, moon, star).
1. Shield Slam - most encounters, I have Blood Fury popped so I'm building my 36 rage, enough to open on my Skull mark with a Shield Slam. Insta big threat!
2a. Devastate - Round fo everyone! Put 2 on your skull then pass 'em around if you have multi-mobs.
2b. Thunderclap - If you had a BIG pull and large heals are going to be incoming, you need to Thunderclap to prevent healer aggro on your other targets (x, square, moon, star). Once you get the TC in, hit each mark with a Devastate to keep the threat up and then go back to smackin' the skull.
3. Revenge - It lights up on Dodges, Blocks, or Parries. Hit it. If you spec'd 43 points into the Prot tree (a la this), Revengel should only cost ya 2 Rage. Hit it every chance you get. If your group is running a threat meter and you are WAY up on the threat, tab to 2nd on DPS and hit them with it. Just hit it.
4. Heroic Strike - Rage dump. If you are over 40 rage, pop it. Once I have 5 Devastates, I switch to spamming HS on the DPS target of the moment. HS hits hard with 5 Sunder Effects and I just refresh the Sunder Armor when needed with a Devastate.
The problem I have, and it's not a big problem, is finding out whether I should spam Shield Block on every refresh. I do. I try to run with a heavy DPS group (no mages, sadly. Don't know where they all went??) so I don't worry about trying to kill the mobs faster as my DPS output (little as it be) is less important than my Healer's Mana.
Every refresh, I'm hitting Shield Block. I also keep Demoralizing Shout and Battle Shout up at all times.
I think I'm going to run a WoW Web Stat for my instance runs tonight to start playing around with how it works. It looks pretty nifty and it'd be a nice tool to see if I'm actually working within these rules.
Right now, 'cause I'm not in Heroics and trying to save money, I don't run with Potions (except healing) or Elixirs. I know there are some great ones out there but I can spend TONS of cash on those if I'm not careful. And, because I usually PUG, I die a lot. I hate losing the bonuses through death. So I don't.
I'm also not Gemming with the super popular all +STA gems. I'm trying to grab the socket bonuses and bumping my avoidance/defense. I'll have a bit less HP (I still socket blues with +9 STA and others with +4 STA where I can) but I'll be using less healer mana because I'll avoid attacks.
The problems I'm reading about (but not experiencing) is that gemming this way at higher tiers reduces your Rage by quite a bit. I don't know yet but I'll be looking to find out when I get there.
**End of Part 1**
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Sooooo, at a pondering point
I'm working on an Origins story for both Neb and Orkwar. I've gotten all it down to paper - no edits yet, just a basic story.
Problem is, the beast rolls in at 23 pages long! AND I want add more!
Wow, don't know if I can post this one to the blog site. If you want a copy, e-mail me. Otherwise, I MIGHT be posting bits and pieces, breaking it up into chewable bites.
Hey, if I stretch it right, I'll get about a month's worth of bloggin' out of it!
Problem is, the beast rolls in at 23 pages long! AND I want add more!
Wow, don't know if I can post this one to the blog site. If you want a copy, e-mail me. Otherwise, I MIGHT be posting bits and pieces, breaking it up into chewable bites.
Hey, if I stretch it right, I'll get about a month's worth of bloggin' out of it!
Friday, February 15, 2008
From the Portal
The first thing he noticed was the smell.
There are many things you can learn from just sniffing the air. Train the sense well enough and you can smell anything.
Orkwar smelled a Demon. But not just any old Demon, he smelled a Pit Lord.
All Orcs know the smell of a Pit Lord. It is something etched into their brain. Even if they have never smelled one before, the scent carries nothing but pure, red rage. For a long time, it was all Orcs ever smelled – except for blood.
Lying face down, the Dark Portal humming behind him, Orkwar’s other senses began returning. The sounds of war were all around him.
“Lok-Narash!”
“Keep pushing forward!”
“Lok’tar Ogar!”
“Flank the sides! Make sure they do not get up the steps! Keep the Portals clear!”
“Arcanist Telas, keep those Portals open!”
“Are you dead, Orc?”
“Oy! I asked if you were dead!”
Shaking his head, Orkwar looked up to find the Blood Elf addressing him.
“Coming through the Dark Portal and dying on the spot. You don’t give me much confidence in Orcish endurance,” the Blood Elf said.
Orkwar’s eyes had adjusted and looking past the Blood Elf, he stared out across the field of battle. He was twenty meters from the stairs, heading down into a great pit. On his right, the Horde send wave after wave of reinforcements down the stairs. Grunts of all races of the Horde were sprinting towards the carnage below. Orkwar could not see the base of the pit but he could hear the screams of the fighting and dying.
“Stand up, Orc. Let’s get you out of the way.” The Blood Elf stood next to Orkwar and waited for him to do the same. Making his way to his knees and then standing, Orkwar shook his head to grasp at what he now saw.
The field at the base of the steps was littered with bodies. Remarkably, however, most of the bodies were Demons. Infernals, their rocky limbs shattered and broken, crumbled under the onslaught of the Horde reinforcements. Felguards moved among the broken rocks, their hatred for all life burning in their eyes. Their vicious weapons raking flesh from bone. The Demons pushed against the Horde line.
Each advance of the Demons was met with Horde violence. The front line of the Horde wall slashed and crushed Demon skin and bone, while the back wall of the front, a solid, unbreaking wall of Shaman Totems, spread the effects of the Element’s blessing. Priests cured and dispelled curses and poison being flung by the Demons. Mages stood in the middle of the stairs, casting waves of destruction and raining death from afar.
Orkwar then saw what he had first smelled. It towered over the field but neither advanced nor retreated. Moving along the back lines of the Demon army, it summoned the Infernals and Felguards from the Nether and thrust them into the fray. It laughed each time one of its summoning was destroyed, as if it fed off their death.
His ears picking up the speech of Darnassian, Orkwar turned to his left. A Portal had been opened and before his eyes, Night Elves, Draenei, Dwarves, Humans and even Gnomes came pouring through.
“About bloody time they showed!” said the Blood Elf, his exasperation evident in his voice. Turning to Orkwar he said, “Make your way to Lieutenant General Orion. He will tell you where you are needed.”
The Blood Elf stormed off towards the incoming Alliance, his attention focused on the Dwarf commander. Seeing the battle below him, Orkwar made his way to the steps. He pulled his shield from his back and unhitched his axe.
“If you are thinking about joining the battle, Orc, I’d reconsider,” another Blood Elf said to Orkwar. “That Pit Lord would devour your soul before you had even reached the line. The troops down there have been prepared for this fight. Leave it to them,” he said. “Even the Alliance down there know what they are doing.”
Orkwar watched as the Alliance quickly went to work and headed down the stairs, joining the Horde already in place. Their Mages synched with the Horde Mages in place and the death from above quickened. The Alliance Warriors moved into the Horde lines and Draenei Shamans began replacing fading Totems on the back line. The Paladins of both sides joining side by side to steal fallen comrades back from death’s grasp. Shadows coalesced as Night Elf, Forsaken and other Rogues struck from their darkness.
The line of Demons was being pushed back. Reaching the mid-point of the arena below, the bodies of Demons piling around them, the Alliance and Horde let out a unanimous cry of fury. The Pit Lord paused in his summoning to laugh at them.
“Foolish mortals,” he bellowed, his breath sending waves of heat across the field, “the might of the Burning Legion will crush you.”
At the taunt of the Pit Lord, the Azerothian line continued forward. Waves of Demons fell before their onslaught. Soon, the line of Azerothians stopped before the Pit Lord. The Demons’ advancement had been broken.
The Pit Lord stood facing the line. A Draenei Paladin at the middle raised his hammer high to the air. Whispering words to the Light for its blessing, Holy energy began crackling around him. The Blood Elf to his right followed his lead, raising his hammer as well, stealing Holy power from the Light, causing the air between them to ignite. Before them, the ground glowed as if a thousand suns were beneath the surface.
With a cry of hatred, the Pit Lord charged the line. Stepping onto the consecrated ground, his flesh began to burn.
“You cannot stop the coming of the Legion,” he raved. “You will all perish.”
Reaching the line, swinging his massive weapon in a wide arc, the Pit Lord cleaved a great whole in the middle of the line. Bodies were sent sprawling across the field – some never rising to join the fight again.
The Mages began their weavings of Arcane magics. Blast after blast torn through the Pit Lord while the Azerothian line collapsed around both sides of him.
Stomping the ground, breaking cracks in the red earth and stunning those around him, the Pit Lord spun to his left. His tail swept those behind him unlucky enough to be unaware. Rogues of all races nimbly climbed the back of the Pit Lord. They slashed and stabbed, hundreds of gashes appearing all over its back.
The Pit Lord howled in rage. Blood rained over the Azerothians, green drops falling like meteors from the open wounds. Warriors moved between the feet of the Pit Lord, finding tendons and soft spots on the underside, impaling their weapon to the depths of their forearms in the exposed flesh.
“Though you kill thousand,” the Pit Lord cried, “the numbers of the Legion are endless.”
With a great swipe, the Pit Lord cleared the line in front of him again, breaking through the ranks. He stormed, oozing across the red earth, towards the line of Mages. Reaching them, he brought his weapon back with both hands.
“For you and your world,” he roared, “there is no hope.”
As if with a single mind, the Mages encased themselves in ice, creating an impassable, impregnable barrier on the stairs. Behind the Pit Lord, Druids, Night Elf and Tauren alike, switch to their Moonkin forms and began a new assault.
Moonfire rained from above and stars fell upon the Pit Lord. His broken body shuddering under each attack, his breath staggering, the Pit Lord tried again to smash through the wall of ice to get at the Mages. Each cleave splintering great chunks of frozen enclosures, creating a minor winter storm at the middle of the steps.
As if realizing he could no longer ignore the barrage of the Druids, the Pit Lord heaved his great weight around, bones and tendons splintering. His tail struck the wall of ice and ripped from his body, connected only by flesh on one side. The Rogues had done their job well on its backside. Its great wings were torn from their holding and instantly ignited to flame, turning to ash before hitting the ground. Falling forward on broken limbs, the Pit Lord dropped his great weapon to catch himself.
The ground shuttered and cracked as he struck. His body spewed forth his blood, burning holes in the baked earth.
“Again I say, you foolish mortals,” he spat, pushing himself as tall as he could on his bloodied arms and facing those left on the line, “you cannot win against the Legion. In the end, your world will burn.”
Orkwar watched as the Draenei and Blood Elf Paladin approached the dying Pit Lord. Standing before the Pit Lord, both Paladins swung, the Blood Elf to his left, the Draenei to his right, striking the arms, snapping the bones within like twigs. As the Pit Lord fell, his body thrashed, all his useless limbs flopping around, trying to strike out.
Jumping to the Pit Lord’s neck, the Rogues, cat-form Druids, and Hunter pets made short work of the arteries, spilling the remaining blood from within the Pit Lord. A Human Warrior came forward hefting a massive axe. Staring the Pit Lord in the face, unblinking as the final breathes of the Pit Lord singed the hair from his body, he lifted the weapon above his head and sank the blade deep within the skull of the Demon.
With a final gurgle and shudder, the Pit Lord died.
“Regroup!” came the shouts from both sides. Orkwar watched as the Azerothians, looking like a single unit, moved to gather the wounded and regrouped at the base of the steps. Calls for heals began in all languages - Draenei healed Orc, Tauren assisted Human.
Orkwar turned from the field, he was no healer and the end of a battle was not his place, and strode to the left of the Dark Portal to find the Lieutenant General. He saw the armored Orc standing to the side of the Dark Portal. He was near a Mage who was holding yet another Portal open.
“We need more reinforcements. The Pit Lord is down, but he won’t stay that way. They always come back,” he told a Grunt with a weary voice. “Head through to Orgrimmar and inform Warchief Thrall. From there, make your way to the other capital cities. Let them know that we need more troops for Outland.”
The Grunt saluted and disappeared through the Portal. Curious, Orkwar watched hard to see if he could see the explosion of the young Orc as his body was teleported. He couldn’t and shrugged.
“Lieutenant General Orion,” he said, once the Grunt had disappeared, “I am Orkwar of Warsong. I have come to help.”
“I saw you at the steps, Orkwar of Warsong. You looked eager to join the battle,” the Leutenant General said.
“I am,” Orkwar replied.
“Forget this battle, Warrior. Join us in the war. Aided by the Alliance, my forces will hold the line here, but I need you to deliver my report to General Krakork in Thrallmar. With his help, we'll be able to drive these demons back into the abyss that spawned them! Speak to Vlagga Freyfeather who stands on the platform behind us. She'll speed you on your way. Lok’tar Ogar, Orkwar of Warsong.”
The Leutentant General saluted and Orkwar returned the salute with, “Lok’tar Ogar.”
The Wyverns were stationed on North side of the platform where the Dark Portal rested. As Orkwar made his way to them, looking for the Wyvern master, a great blast of hot air ripped through the ranks. The ground began to shudder and groan. Bolts of lighting and fire crashed from the sky and even reached from the ground high into the air.
“Hahahaha” A low, gravelly voice echoed over the wind.
Orkwar joined the rush back to the steps before the Dark Portal and looked down over the field. The line of Azerothian defenders had returned to midway up the steps.
“Prepare again! The Pit Lord is returning!”
Orders were issued in every language on Azeroth. Like a well oiled machine, places where taken, with Horde and Alliance standing together at mid-steps.
On the field below, the Pit Lord’s body trembled. Bolts of green light exploded in great shafts from his open wounds. Its skeleton was illuminated beneath its skin and even from this distance, Orkwar could see the bones mending themselves.
“Mwahahahahah,” the laughter echoed again, coming from all places at once. The wind blasted the ranks again, this time accompanied by intense heat. Orkwar smelled singed hair on the wind from those standing closer to the source of the blast.
“The might of the Burning Legion,” spewed the mouth of the Pit Lord, “is unstoppable.”
The skeleton’s light faded and all on the stairs could see, the Pit Lord’s body had not a mark on it. Its back was still to the stairs, its torn tail slowly reattached, tendons snaking out from the body to meet it. The head of the monster lifted from the ground. Its right arm reached out, unbroken, towards its fallen weapon. Grasping the dark blade, it used the weapon to help it stand. Moving to its full height, the Pit Lord’s new wings snapped open. It spun to face the defenders on the stairs. The forest of ivory teeth in its mouth barely preventing the strands of drool from escaping.
It spit at the line, “Come mortals. Face the might of the Legion once more.”
Slowly raising its arms to the sky, Infernals began to rain down on the defenders.
“Abandon your hope, for the Legion consumes all.”
There are many things you can learn from just sniffing the air. Train the sense well enough and you can smell anything.
Orkwar smelled a Demon. But not just any old Demon, he smelled a Pit Lord.
All Orcs know the smell of a Pit Lord. It is something etched into their brain. Even if they have never smelled one before, the scent carries nothing but pure, red rage. For a long time, it was all Orcs ever smelled – except for blood.
Lying face down, the Dark Portal humming behind him, Orkwar’s other senses began returning. The sounds of war were all around him.
“Lok-Narash!”
“Keep pushing forward!”
“Lok’tar Ogar!”
“Flank the sides! Make sure they do not get up the steps! Keep the Portals clear!”
“Arcanist Telas, keep those Portals open!”
“Are you dead, Orc?”
“Oy! I asked if you were dead!”
Shaking his head, Orkwar looked up to find the Blood Elf addressing him.
“Coming through the Dark Portal and dying on the spot. You don’t give me much confidence in Orcish endurance,” the Blood Elf said.
Orkwar’s eyes had adjusted and looking past the Blood Elf, he stared out across the field of battle. He was twenty meters from the stairs, heading down into a great pit. On his right, the Horde send wave after wave of reinforcements down the stairs. Grunts of all races of the Horde were sprinting towards the carnage below. Orkwar could not see the base of the pit but he could hear the screams of the fighting and dying.
“Stand up, Orc. Let’s get you out of the way.” The Blood Elf stood next to Orkwar and waited for him to do the same. Making his way to his knees and then standing, Orkwar shook his head to grasp at what he now saw.
The field at the base of the steps was littered with bodies. Remarkably, however, most of the bodies were Demons. Infernals, their rocky limbs shattered and broken, crumbled under the onslaught of the Horde reinforcements. Felguards moved among the broken rocks, their hatred for all life burning in their eyes. Their vicious weapons raking flesh from bone. The Demons pushed against the Horde line.
Each advance of the Demons was met with Horde violence. The front line of the Horde wall slashed and crushed Demon skin and bone, while the back wall of the front, a solid, unbreaking wall of Shaman Totems, spread the effects of the Element’s blessing. Priests cured and dispelled curses and poison being flung by the Demons. Mages stood in the middle of the stairs, casting waves of destruction and raining death from afar.
Orkwar then saw what he had first smelled. It towered over the field but neither advanced nor retreated. Moving along the back lines of the Demon army, it summoned the Infernals and Felguards from the Nether and thrust them into the fray. It laughed each time one of its summoning was destroyed, as if it fed off their death.
His ears picking up the speech of Darnassian, Orkwar turned to his left. A Portal had been opened and before his eyes, Night Elves, Draenei, Dwarves, Humans and even Gnomes came pouring through.
“About bloody time they showed!” said the Blood Elf, his exasperation evident in his voice. Turning to Orkwar he said, “Make your way to Lieutenant General Orion. He will tell you where you are needed.”
The Blood Elf stormed off towards the incoming Alliance, his attention focused on the Dwarf commander. Seeing the battle below him, Orkwar made his way to the steps. He pulled his shield from his back and unhitched his axe.
“If you are thinking about joining the battle, Orc, I’d reconsider,” another Blood Elf said to Orkwar. “That Pit Lord would devour your soul before you had even reached the line. The troops down there have been prepared for this fight. Leave it to them,” he said. “Even the Alliance down there know what they are doing.”
Orkwar watched as the Alliance quickly went to work and headed down the stairs, joining the Horde already in place. Their Mages synched with the Horde Mages in place and the death from above quickened. The Alliance Warriors moved into the Horde lines and Draenei Shamans began replacing fading Totems on the back line. The Paladins of both sides joining side by side to steal fallen comrades back from death’s grasp. Shadows coalesced as Night Elf, Forsaken and other Rogues struck from their darkness.
The line of Demons was being pushed back. Reaching the mid-point of the arena below, the bodies of Demons piling around them, the Alliance and Horde let out a unanimous cry of fury. The Pit Lord paused in his summoning to laugh at them.
“Foolish mortals,” he bellowed, his breath sending waves of heat across the field, “the might of the Burning Legion will crush you.”
At the taunt of the Pit Lord, the Azerothian line continued forward. Waves of Demons fell before their onslaught. Soon, the line of Azerothians stopped before the Pit Lord. The Demons’ advancement had been broken.
The Pit Lord stood facing the line. A Draenei Paladin at the middle raised his hammer high to the air. Whispering words to the Light for its blessing, Holy energy began crackling around him. The Blood Elf to his right followed his lead, raising his hammer as well, stealing Holy power from the Light, causing the air between them to ignite. Before them, the ground glowed as if a thousand suns were beneath the surface.
With a cry of hatred, the Pit Lord charged the line. Stepping onto the consecrated ground, his flesh began to burn.
“You cannot stop the coming of the Legion,” he raved. “You will all perish.”
Reaching the line, swinging his massive weapon in a wide arc, the Pit Lord cleaved a great whole in the middle of the line. Bodies were sent sprawling across the field – some never rising to join the fight again.
The Mages began their weavings of Arcane magics. Blast after blast torn through the Pit Lord while the Azerothian line collapsed around both sides of him.
Stomping the ground, breaking cracks in the red earth and stunning those around him, the Pit Lord spun to his left. His tail swept those behind him unlucky enough to be unaware. Rogues of all races nimbly climbed the back of the Pit Lord. They slashed and stabbed, hundreds of gashes appearing all over its back.
The Pit Lord howled in rage. Blood rained over the Azerothians, green drops falling like meteors from the open wounds. Warriors moved between the feet of the Pit Lord, finding tendons and soft spots on the underside, impaling their weapon to the depths of their forearms in the exposed flesh.
“Though you kill thousand,” the Pit Lord cried, “the numbers of the Legion are endless.”
With a great swipe, the Pit Lord cleared the line in front of him again, breaking through the ranks. He stormed, oozing across the red earth, towards the line of Mages. Reaching them, he brought his weapon back with both hands.
“For you and your world,” he roared, “there is no hope.”
As if with a single mind, the Mages encased themselves in ice, creating an impassable, impregnable barrier on the stairs. Behind the Pit Lord, Druids, Night Elf and Tauren alike, switch to their Moonkin forms and began a new assault.
Moonfire rained from above and stars fell upon the Pit Lord. His broken body shuddering under each attack, his breath staggering, the Pit Lord tried again to smash through the wall of ice to get at the Mages. Each cleave splintering great chunks of frozen enclosures, creating a minor winter storm at the middle of the steps.
As if realizing he could no longer ignore the barrage of the Druids, the Pit Lord heaved his great weight around, bones and tendons splintering. His tail struck the wall of ice and ripped from his body, connected only by flesh on one side. The Rogues had done their job well on its backside. Its great wings were torn from their holding and instantly ignited to flame, turning to ash before hitting the ground. Falling forward on broken limbs, the Pit Lord dropped his great weapon to catch himself.
The ground shuttered and cracked as he struck. His body spewed forth his blood, burning holes in the baked earth.
“Again I say, you foolish mortals,” he spat, pushing himself as tall as he could on his bloodied arms and facing those left on the line, “you cannot win against the Legion. In the end, your world will burn.”
Orkwar watched as the Draenei and Blood Elf Paladin approached the dying Pit Lord. Standing before the Pit Lord, both Paladins swung, the Blood Elf to his left, the Draenei to his right, striking the arms, snapping the bones within like twigs. As the Pit Lord fell, his body thrashed, all his useless limbs flopping around, trying to strike out.
Jumping to the Pit Lord’s neck, the Rogues, cat-form Druids, and Hunter pets made short work of the arteries, spilling the remaining blood from within the Pit Lord. A Human Warrior came forward hefting a massive axe. Staring the Pit Lord in the face, unblinking as the final breathes of the Pit Lord singed the hair from his body, he lifted the weapon above his head and sank the blade deep within the skull of the Demon.
With a final gurgle and shudder, the Pit Lord died.
“Regroup!” came the shouts from both sides. Orkwar watched as the Azerothians, looking like a single unit, moved to gather the wounded and regrouped at the base of the steps. Calls for heals began in all languages - Draenei healed Orc, Tauren assisted Human.
Orkwar turned from the field, he was no healer and the end of a battle was not his place, and strode to the left of the Dark Portal to find the Lieutenant General. He saw the armored Orc standing to the side of the Dark Portal. He was near a Mage who was holding yet another Portal open.
“We need more reinforcements. The Pit Lord is down, but he won’t stay that way. They always come back,” he told a Grunt with a weary voice. “Head through to Orgrimmar and inform Warchief Thrall. From there, make your way to the other capital cities. Let them know that we need more troops for Outland.”
The Grunt saluted and disappeared through the Portal. Curious, Orkwar watched hard to see if he could see the explosion of the young Orc as his body was teleported. He couldn’t and shrugged.
“Lieutenant General Orion,” he said, once the Grunt had disappeared, “I am Orkwar of Warsong. I have come to help.”
“I saw you at the steps, Orkwar of Warsong. You looked eager to join the battle,” the Leutenant General said.
“I am,” Orkwar replied.
“Forget this battle, Warrior. Join us in the war. Aided by the Alliance, my forces will hold the line here, but I need you to deliver my report to General Krakork in Thrallmar. With his help, we'll be able to drive these demons back into the abyss that spawned them! Speak to Vlagga Freyfeather who stands on the platform behind us. She'll speed you on your way. Lok’tar Ogar, Orkwar of Warsong.”
The Leutentant General saluted and Orkwar returned the salute with, “Lok’tar Ogar.”
The Wyverns were stationed on North side of the platform where the Dark Portal rested. As Orkwar made his way to them, looking for the Wyvern master, a great blast of hot air ripped through the ranks. The ground began to shudder and groan. Bolts of lighting and fire crashed from the sky and even reached from the ground high into the air.
“Hahahaha” A low, gravelly voice echoed over the wind.
Orkwar joined the rush back to the steps before the Dark Portal and looked down over the field. The line of Azerothian defenders had returned to midway up the steps.
“Prepare again! The Pit Lord is returning!”
Orders were issued in every language on Azeroth. Like a well oiled machine, places where taken, with Horde and Alliance standing together at mid-steps.
On the field below, the Pit Lord’s body trembled. Bolts of green light exploded in great shafts from his open wounds. Its skeleton was illuminated beneath its skin and even from this distance, Orkwar could see the bones mending themselves.
“Mwahahahahah,” the laughter echoed again, coming from all places at once. The wind blasted the ranks again, this time accompanied by intense heat. Orkwar smelled singed hair on the wind from those standing closer to the source of the blast.
“The might of the Burning Legion,” spewed the mouth of the Pit Lord, “is unstoppable.”
The skeleton’s light faded and all on the stairs could see, the Pit Lord’s body had not a mark on it. Its back was still to the stairs, its torn tail slowly reattached, tendons snaking out from the body to meet it. The head of the monster lifted from the ground. Its right arm reached out, unbroken, towards its fallen weapon. Grasping the dark blade, it used the weapon to help it stand. Moving to its full height, the Pit Lord’s new wings snapped open. It spun to face the defenders on the stairs. The forest of ivory teeth in its mouth barely preventing the strands of drool from escaping.
It spit at the line, “Come mortals. Face the might of the Legion once more.”
Slowly raising its arms to the sky, Infernals began to rain down on the defenders.
“Abandon your hope, for the Legion consumes all.”
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Outlands: It begins
I once overheard a Mage discussing the actual workings of teleportation. She said she used a little, green frog. She would place the little guy on a pedestal on one side of the room and move him to the next through a small portal. She watched him closely, she said. So close, she saw the actual working of her portal..
She saw the frog torn apart.
It worked in segments – first the moisture and hair from the skin, then the skin itself, then the muscle, then the internals, then the bones. On the opposite side of the room, where the frog came out, she said he just appeared. The was no re-forming process as the frog came out of the portal; he just appeared in perfect condition
It was like, she said, the opening of the portal was crude. The opening was created by the Mage. It ripped into another place - a place where the magic users of our day don’t understand. They know HOW to get there, but they don’t really know where THERE is.
She said that the end of the portal, the one at the arrival point, is perfect. Mages, she said, don’t make the arrival portal.
The frog comes out of the arrival point in a much more dignified fashion. There’s no re-piecing, no re-forming. The frog just hops out and all is well for him. For all she knows, he doesn’t remember going in the opening of the portal. He just remembers suddenly being on the next pedestal. The Mage said she had asked a priest friend of hers to follow the frog on his voyage, but contact was lost once the frog entered the opening portal. All the priest heard before “losing” the frog was the whisper ‘Gwirn.’ They still hadn’t figured that one out.
She said Mages don’t make the arrival point. They don’t really know who does. They cast a spell that teaches them to visualize their destination. They hold that thought and imagine grasping the strands between the places of things. They take those strands and tear them apart. She equated it to grabbing a piece of cloth in the middle and making a hole. Step through the hole and you’re on the other side.
The opening is a tear. Mages can see the jagged edges on the sides. The can see the effects on people when they walk through the opening. They watch them exploded into chunks.
Then, they watch them walk out the other side. They walk out the perfect hole at the arrival point.
She chuckled when she said this part – she gets tipped to make people explode. People pay her to kill them and they don’t even know it.
The Dark Portal is something else entirely.
He had trudged from the Swamp of Sorrows, following the hum from the monolith to the south and east. It was a low pitch hum, not unlike a purr from a large catch, but at the same time, it never fluctuated in it’s pitch or pressure.
It was eternally there in the Blasted Lands. Right on the edge of hearing, it hummed, never waning.
He crested the rise and it stood before him.
It was tall. Easily as tall as the towers near the Warsong camp, topping nearly twenty meters. A short series of stairs led up to the entrance and the portal itself was flanked by twin statues. Their backs to the wall, standing to the side of the portal, they watched those who approached and went through its rippling surface.
Breathing deep, the magic from the portal and smell of demons around him filling his lungs, taking it all in, Orkwar stepped down from the rise and made his way to the Dark Portal.
“Hail, Warrior!” came a shout above the hum.
In his steps towards the portal, Orkwar had not noticed a small camp set up around the perimeter.
“Well met,” Orkwar answered back.
“I am Warlord Dar’toon,” the Orc said, thrusting his arm out.
Orkwar firmly grabbed the forearm of the Orc. “Orkwar of Warsong,” he replied.
“You’re going through,” said Dar’toon, nodding towards the portal.
“I am,” Orkwar said, returning his gaze to the portal.
“Be wary, Orkwar of Warsong. For years the Dark Portal loomed silent... forgotten. But it is silent no longer. After stopping the demonic assault here, our forces breached the portal and met the demons on their own ground! Now, we are locked in a savage war, and there are some who think we might not win. So it is our duty, our grim pleasure, to battle the fiends of Outland and ensure our victory, Orkwar. If you would help us, then report to Lieutenant General Orion at once. He awaits you in the Outland...”
The Warlord stood back and sighed, as if he had repeated this many times. Still holding Orkwar’s foreman, he pulled in tight and spoke closely to Orkwar’s helmet.
“Be warned,” he said. He was close enough that Orkwar could smell the Orc’s breath. It was tinged with the scent of magic, as if it was stained into the Warlord’s very being.
He continued, “Outlands is not home, Orc. It once was, but it is no more. There are things there that you have never seen and are not prepared to see alone. Fight with allies at your side, Orkwar of Warsong. Fight with them at your side and you will conquer Outlands.”
The Warlord released his grip and stepped back. Saluting Orkwar, he turned and made his way back to his station.
Orkwar watched him walk away. Still facing the portal, he turned to survey the wall of red rock behind him. Over that wall was the rest of Azeroth. He knew Azeroth – knew it very well. It was an old friend.
The stone in his pack spoke, “Orkwar, are you at the portal?”
Reaching into his pack, Orkwar touched the Speaking Stone with one finger. He said, “I am, Thog. I am standing on the steps.”
“Are you frightened, little Orc?” Orkwar could hear the Rogue’s smile. “It only hurts a little bit.”
Orkwar chuckled. He knew the rest of Rend Fate could hear the dialogue and that they were probably silently getting a laugh as well. Ever since his time at the Bloody Tavern, listening to a less than sober Casivixia talk about mage portals, Orkwar had been reluctant to use any kind of teleportation. He had never used a Warlock’s summoning before and knowing Locks, it was probably worse than the mages. He considered asking Orko one of these days.
But he had heard that the Dark Portal was the worst of them all. It was pain beyond imagining and it felt eternal. Some even said using the Dark Portal had driven friends mad.
Sniffing the air one last time, Orkwar placed his armored boot on the first step. He could feel the vibrations from the stone. He took the steps one at a time until he was level with the portal.
It was even larger up close. It was unlike the mage portal. He could not see the exit, just a vast expanse of stars. The portal was tinged in green and in writhed as if in agony. It was easy to imagine this being created by demonic powers.
Turning back to face the Warlord, Orkwar saluted. Without waiting for a reply, he turned to the portal and strode in.
Compared to the Dark Portal, Orkwar envied the little, green frog.
She saw the frog torn apart.
It worked in segments – first the moisture and hair from the skin, then the skin itself, then the muscle, then the internals, then the bones. On the opposite side of the room, where the frog came out, she said he just appeared. The was no re-forming process as the frog came out of the portal; he just appeared in perfect condition
It was like, she said, the opening of the portal was crude. The opening was created by the Mage. It ripped into another place - a place where the magic users of our day don’t understand. They know HOW to get there, but they don’t really know where THERE is.
She said that the end of the portal, the one at the arrival point, is perfect. Mages, she said, don’t make the arrival portal.
The frog comes out of the arrival point in a much more dignified fashion. There’s no re-piecing, no re-forming. The frog just hops out and all is well for him. For all she knows, he doesn’t remember going in the opening of the portal. He just remembers suddenly being on the next pedestal. The Mage said she had asked a priest friend of hers to follow the frog on his voyage, but contact was lost once the frog entered the opening portal. All the priest heard before “losing” the frog was the whisper ‘Gwirn.’ They still hadn’t figured that one out.
She said Mages don’t make the arrival point. They don’t really know who does. They cast a spell that teaches them to visualize their destination. They hold that thought and imagine grasping the strands between the places of things. They take those strands and tear them apart. She equated it to grabbing a piece of cloth in the middle and making a hole. Step through the hole and you’re on the other side.
The opening is a tear. Mages can see the jagged edges on the sides. The can see the effects on people when they walk through the opening. They watch them exploded into chunks.
Then, they watch them walk out the other side. They walk out the perfect hole at the arrival point.
She chuckled when she said this part – she gets tipped to make people explode. People pay her to kill them and they don’t even know it.
The Dark Portal is something else entirely.
He had trudged from the Swamp of Sorrows, following the hum from the monolith to the south and east. It was a low pitch hum, not unlike a purr from a large catch, but at the same time, it never fluctuated in it’s pitch or pressure.
It was eternally there in the Blasted Lands. Right on the edge of hearing, it hummed, never waning.
He crested the rise and it stood before him.
It was tall. Easily as tall as the towers near the Warsong camp, topping nearly twenty meters. A short series of stairs led up to the entrance and the portal itself was flanked by twin statues. Their backs to the wall, standing to the side of the portal, they watched those who approached and went through its rippling surface.
Breathing deep, the magic from the portal and smell of demons around him filling his lungs, taking it all in, Orkwar stepped down from the rise and made his way to the Dark Portal.
“Hail, Warrior!” came a shout above the hum.
In his steps towards the portal, Orkwar had not noticed a small camp set up around the perimeter.
“Well met,” Orkwar answered back.
“I am Warlord Dar’toon,” the Orc said, thrusting his arm out.
Orkwar firmly grabbed the forearm of the Orc. “Orkwar of Warsong,” he replied.
“You’re going through,” said Dar’toon, nodding towards the portal.
“I am,” Orkwar said, returning his gaze to the portal.
“Be wary, Orkwar of Warsong. For years the Dark Portal loomed silent... forgotten. But it is silent no longer. After stopping the demonic assault here, our forces breached the portal and met the demons on their own ground! Now, we are locked in a savage war, and there are some who think we might not win. So it is our duty, our grim pleasure, to battle the fiends of Outland and ensure our victory, Orkwar. If you would help us, then report to Lieutenant General Orion at once. He awaits you in the Outland...”
The Warlord stood back and sighed, as if he had repeated this many times. Still holding Orkwar’s foreman, he pulled in tight and spoke closely to Orkwar’s helmet.
“Be warned,” he said. He was close enough that Orkwar could smell the Orc’s breath. It was tinged with the scent of magic, as if it was stained into the Warlord’s very being.
He continued, “Outlands is not home, Orc. It once was, but it is no more. There are things there that you have never seen and are not prepared to see alone. Fight with allies at your side, Orkwar of Warsong. Fight with them at your side and you will conquer Outlands.”
The Warlord released his grip and stepped back. Saluting Orkwar, he turned and made his way back to his station.
Orkwar watched him walk away. Still facing the portal, he turned to survey the wall of red rock behind him. Over that wall was the rest of Azeroth. He knew Azeroth – knew it very well. It was an old friend.
The stone in his pack spoke, “Orkwar, are you at the portal?”
Reaching into his pack, Orkwar touched the Speaking Stone with one finger. He said, “I am, Thog. I am standing on the steps.”
“Are you frightened, little Orc?” Orkwar could hear the Rogue’s smile. “It only hurts a little bit.”
Orkwar chuckled. He knew the rest of Rend Fate could hear the dialogue and that they were probably silently getting a laugh as well. Ever since his time at the Bloody Tavern, listening to a less than sober Casivixia talk about mage portals, Orkwar had been reluctant to use any kind of teleportation. He had never used a Warlock’s summoning before and knowing Locks, it was probably worse than the mages. He considered asking Orko one of these days.
But he had heard that the Dark Portal was the worst of them all. It was pain beyond imagining and it felt eternal. Some even said using the Dark Portal had driven friends mad.
Sniffing the air one last time, Orkwar placed his armored boot on the first step. He could feel the vibrations from the stone. He took the steps one at a time until he was level with the portal.
It was even larger up close. It was unlike the mage portal. He could not see the exit, just a vast expanse of stars. The portal was tinged in green and in writhed as if in agony. It was easy to imagine this being created by demonic powers.
Turning back to face the Warlord, Orkwar saluted. Without waiting for a reply, he turned to the portal and strode in.
Compared to the Dark Portal, Orkwar envied the little, green frog.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Joining Rend Fate
Of Rend Fate: Orkwar glanced around the corner, the Alliance were still coming.
There were 3 of them. Orkwar heard the Hunter call to his pet in Darnassian. Orkwar spoke little of the language but knew the sounds.
He glanced back around the corner. The Human had disappeared. The pet for the Hunter was a translucent cat. It sniffed in his direction. He watched long enough to see the Hunter notch an arrow.
“Here kitty, kitty,” Orkwar mumbled. “Good kitty.”
Here, at the Ruins of Isildien, Orkwar prepped himself for battle.
Pulling both axes, he felt the rage within him bubble in his blood. With a roar, he threw himself away from the corner, towards the Hunter and Warlock and landed on the translucent cat. Both axes came down, whistling in the air. Hitting the cat, a splash of blood doused Orkwar’s armor, a bit of black and red on the gleaming surface. The Lock began her incantation as the Hunter let his first arrows fly.
Orkwar felt the first layers of curses embed in his skin. With another roar, he sprinted to the Hunter.
Stay in close to him, he thought. His axes became whirling blades of death, striking both the Hunter and the Lock. His left hand concentrated on deflecting the quick strikes of the Hunter while his right worked to find a way past the defenses. The cat clawed at his back, raking new scratches in the Armor.
The Lock began his incantations for fear. With the rage boiling inside, Orkwar released another roar, sending echoes across the Ruins of Isildien.
Orkwar struck low on the Hunter, dropping him to the ground and sprinted to the Lock. Through the paper armor she wore, Orkwar’s axes ate like fire. Again, spinning with fury, he struck out again and again when he suddenly felt his body go slack.
The Succubus had appeared from stealth and was calling to Orkwar. He heard her calls and had stopped to listen. The world stopped for him. In the back of his mind, he saw the Hunter and Lock backing away, the cat returning to the Hunter’s side.
It was then that the Rogue hit Orkwar like a pissed off Devilsaur. Orkwar awoke from the seduction of the Succubus’ call and gasped for breath. The Rogue dodged and thrust, slipping his daggers under Orkwar’s armor. Over and over again, the Rogue attacked. Orkwar kept trying to raise his defense but the rogues was too quick – always finding just the right places to strike.
Feeling his blood drain out, Orkwar thought, Killed by a Rogue while listening to a pretty woman call me – guess I could do worse.
He finally got his chance when one of the Rogues blows glanced off of his Armor. Spinning around, Orkwar hung his axe and pulled his shield. Behind the gargantuan wall of mithril, he summoned the last of his strength for a final stand.
One quick cut and the rogue lost his hold on his main weapon, dropping the dagger to the ground. Orkwar bellowed again and the Rogue stumbled at the force of it. Orkwar slammed his shield into the face of the stumbling Rogue and in one movement, swung his shield back to his back and pulled his offhand axe again.
Out of the corner of his eye, Orkwar saw the Hunter and Lock begin anew their death from afar.
With reckless abandon, Orkwar slashed cross-handed across the Rogue’s chest then straight down both legs. He felt the Hunter’s arrows pelting his armor and knew that this fight was almost over for him. Hitting an artery in the Rogue’s leg, a geyser of blood erupted. It sprayed the Armor encasing Orkwar, tinting him red from head to toe. Having brought his axes down, Orkwar reversed their direction and exploded upwards. With the axe faces pointed to the sky, he struck the Rogue under the jaw with both blades and bellowed his fury.
Seeing the executed body of their friend explode before them renewed their strength. The Hunter released an Arcane shot, blasting Orkwar in his right shoulder, tossing him to the side. The Lock stepped forward and began gathering shadows in his hands for the final shadowbolt.
Orkwar stumbled to his knees and turned to face the remaining two. Consciousness was fading and the dark was taking over the edges of his vision. With one last shout, he caused both of his attackers to pause.
The Hunter chuckled and picked his bow when the suddenly his face went slack. His cat paused to look at his master. The Lock, in front of the Hunter, noticed nothing and instead charge up another spell.
From the shadows, a Blood Elf appeared behind the Lock, silencing him instantly. She moved with a vengeance, striking all the major organs in seconds. The Lock let out a howl and the Blood Elf paused for a second. The Succubus turned to move in when, from beneath her leather mask, the Blood Elf calmly said, “Bash’a no falor talah.” Her blades reached for the Lock’s neck and, with ease, severed her head.
Orkwar suddenly felt a glow within him. A flash of light enveloped his body and he felt his wounds close instantly. He was not fully healed but remarkably better. He had felt it before – there was a paladin close by.
She was armored from head to toe and radiating pure, white, holy fury. Pulling a great hammer from her side, she calmly walked up to Orkwar.
“Rest easy, friend orc,” she said. “Rend Fate is here.”
The Hunter twitched, beginning to recover from his state. His cat charged the Paladin. She swung her hammer, stunning the beast and proceeded to call down hell on the animal. Working close in range, the ground glowed and burned the beasts flesh from its paws. All the while, the Paladin moved around the hapless animal, righteous fury spilling forth from her hammer.
The Rogue had turned her attention to the Hunter. Disappearing in a cloud of smoke, she reappeared at his side. Before he had even strung a single arrow, she had severed the tendons in his right shoulder, then worked to his legs, toppling him to the ground.
The Paladin struck the cat in a final upward blow, sending the beast sprawling to land twenty meters away. The golden aura on the ground subsided and she turned to the downed Hunter.
“Are you going to finish it, Shel?” she asked.
The Rogue looked to the Paladin then back at the Hunter. “I was actually thinking of leaving him for the rest of the Alliance, Linaran. As a message.”
“Do what you wish. I will see to the Orc.”
The Rogue continued to stare at the Hunter. She leaned in close, her beautiful face calm, her eyes pouring their greenish vapor. She whispered to the Hunter, in Thalassian, “You cannot fully understand me but you will understand my meaning. We are the Horde. We are Rend Fate. Tell all that you know that we will tolerate no Alliance attacking Horde at any time, in any place.” Her voice lowered as she leaned close to the Hunter’s ear and whispered again, “We are Rend Fate.”
With that, she stood and walked back to the Paladin squatting next to Orkwar. The Hunter struggled on his last good leg to stand. Failing that, he made his way up to all fours and began to slink away, crawling with his one good arm and leg.
“Greetings Orc, I am Linaran of Rend Fate,” the Paladin said. “My friend here is Shelandria.”
The Rogue waved to Orkwar. Looking at the two, Orkwar spoke, “I am Orkwar of the Warsong clan. I am in debt to you for my life.”
Shelandria chuckled, “We hold no debts for members of the Horde. Especially one where killing Alliance are concerned.”
Linaran nodded, “Lie still for a moment and let me tend your wounds.” She stood back as Orkwar rested upon his knees. Pulling from the Light, Linaran began to glow again.
“Show-off,” muttered Shelandria with a smile.
The glow radiated from Linaran and passed through Orkwar’s body. Instantly he felt new. Reborn. He stood and inspected his armor. The blood had caked to it and he was still tinged in red.
“The healing doesn’t do much for cleaning up,” Linaran said, “but it sure makes the pain go away.”
“That it does, Blood Elf,” Orkwar agreed.
The three stood for a moment trading glances. The shockwave that rippled over them from the direction of the Hunter caused them the staggered.
“Haha! Did you SEE THAT!?” a voice called. The three turned and saw the crater nearly six meters in diameter.
A Blood Elf blinked into existence by the three and said, “Boy, that Hunter was weird. It was like he was sniffing the ground or something. I felt you guys call on the stone and when I got here, he was poking around near you. I’ve never had such a great opportunity for a Pyroblast test so I thought I’d take advantage of an unaware target.”
Linaran turned from the newcomer to Orkwar and said, “This is Casivixia.”
As if just taking in notice of the surroundings, Casivixia said, “So I guess the fight’s over? Phooey.” She pouted in a way only a Blood Elf could.
Shelandria grinned, “There’s always more Alliance, Casi. To Stranglethorn Vale?”
Casivixia nodded and turned to Orkwar, “Does he wanna tag along?”
Orkwar grinned, baring his tusks beneath his helmet. He grabbed his shield, slung it to his back and pulled his axes from where they lied. Hefting them in his massive hands, he squeezed and felt his new strength.
“Absolutely.” Looking to Shelandria, he added, “For the Horde. For Rend Fate.”
There were 3 of them. Orkwar heard the Hunter call to his pet in Darnassian. Orkwar spoke little of the language but knew the sounds.
He glanced back around the corner. The Human had disappeared. The pet for the Hunter was a translucent cat. It sniffed in his direction. He watched long enough to see the Hunter notch an arrow.
“Here kitty, kitty,” Orkwar mumbled. “Good kitty.”
Here, at the Ruins of Isildien, Orkwar prepped himself for battle.
Pulling both axes, he felt the rage within him bubble in his blood. With a roar, he threw himself away from the corner, towards the Hunter and Warlock and landed on the translucent cat. Both axes came down, whistling in the air. Hitting the cat, a splash of blood doused Orkwar’s armor, a bit of black and red on the gleaming surface. The Lock began her incantation as the Hunter let his first arrows fly.
Orkwar felt the first layers of curses embed in his skin. With another roar, he sprinted to the Hunter.
Stay in close to him, he thought. His axes became whirling blades of death, striking both the Hunter and the Lock. His left hand concentrated on deflecting the quick strikes of the Hunter while his right worked to find a way past the defenses. The cat clawed at his back, raking new scratches in the Armor.
The Lock began his incantations for fear. With the rage boiling inside, Orkwar released another roar, sending echoes across the Ruins of Isildien.
Orkwar struck low on the Hunter, dropping him to the ground and sprinted to the Lock. Through the paper armor she wore, Orkwar’s axes ate like fire. Again, spinning with fury, he struck out again and again when he suddenly felt his body go slack.
The Succubus had appeared from stealth and was calling to Orkwar. He heard her calls and had stopped to listen. The world stopped for him. In the back of his mind, he saw the Hunter and Lock backing away, the cat returning to the Hunter’s side.
It was then that the Rogue hit Orkwar like a pissed off Devilsaur. Orkwar awoke from the seduction of the Succubus’ call and gasped for breath. The Rogue dodged and thrust, slipping his daggers under Orkwar’s armor. Over and over again, the Rogue attacked. Orkwar kept trying to raise his defense but the rogues was too quick – always finding just the right places to strike.
Feeling his blood drain out, Orkwar thought, Killed by a Rogue while listening to a pretty woman call me – guess I could do worse.
He finally got his chance when one of the Rogues blows glanced off of his Armor. Spinning around, Orkwar hung his axe and pulled his shield. Behind the gargantuan wall of mithril, he summoned the last of his strength for a final stand.
One quick cut and the rogue lost his hold on his main weapon, dropping the dagger to the ground. Orkwar bellowed again and the Rogue stumbled at the force of it. Orkwar slammed his shield into the face of the stumbling Rogue and in one movement, swung his shield back to his back and pulled his offhand axe again.
Out of the corner of his eye, Orkwar saw the Hunter and Lock begin anew their death from afar.
With reckless abandon, Orkwar slashed cross-handed across the Rogue’s chest then straight down both legs. He felt the Hunter’s arrows pelting his armor and knew that this fight was almost over for him. Hitting an artery in the Rogue’s leg, a geyser of blood erupted. It sprayed the Armor encasing Orkwar, tinting him red from head to toe. Having brought his axes down, Orkwar reversed their direction and exploded upwards. With the axe faces pointed to the sky, he struck the Rogue under the jaw with both blades and bellowed his fury.
Seeing the executed body of their friend explode before them renewed their strength. The Hunter released an Arcane shot, blasting Orkwar in his right shoulder, tossing him to the side. The Lock stepped forward and began gathering shadows in his hands for the final shadowbolt.
Orkwar stumbled to his knees and turned to face the remaining two. Consciousness was fading and the dark was taking over the edges of his vision. With one last shout, he caused both of his attackers to pause.
The Hunter chuckled and picked his bow when the suddenly his face went slack. His cat paused to look at his master. The Lock, in front of the Hunter, noticed nothing and instead charge up another spell.
From the shadows, a Blood Elf appeared behind the Lock, silencing him instantly. She moved with a vengeance, striking all the major organs in seconds. The Lock let out a howl and the Blood Elf paused for a second. The Succubus turned to move in when, from beneath her leather mask, the Blood Elf calmly said, “Bash’a no falor talah.” Her blades reached for the Lock’s neck and, with ease, severed her head.
Orkwar suddenly felt a glow within him. A flash of light enveloped his body and he felt his wounds close instantly. He was not fully healed but remarkably better. He had felt it before – there was a paladin close by.
She was armored from head to toe and radiating pure, white, holy fury. Pulling a great hammer from her side, she calmly walked up to Orkwar.
“Rest easy, friend orc,” she said. “Rend Fate is here.”
The Hunter twitched, beginning to recover from his state. His cat charged the Paladin. She swung her hammer, stunning the beast and proceeded to call down hell on the animal. Working close in range, the ground glowed and burned the beasts flesh from its paws. All the while, the Paladin moved around the hapless animal, righteous fury spilling forth from her hammer.
The Rogue had turned her attention to the Hunter. Disappearing in a cloud of smoke, she reappeared at his side. Before he had even strung a single arrow, she had severed the tendons in his right shoulder, then worked to his legs, toppling him to the ground.
The Paladin struck the cat in a final upward blow, sending the beast sprawling to land twenty meters away. The golden aura on the ground subsided and she turned to the downed Hunter.
“Are you going to finish it, Shel?” she asked.
The Rogue looked to the Paladin then back at the Hunter. “I was actually thinking of leaving him for the rest of the Alliance, Linaran. As a message.”
“Do what you wish. I will see to the Orc.”
The Rogue continued to stare at the Hunter. She leaned in close, her beautiful face calm, her eyes pouring their greenish vapor. She whispered to the Hunter, in Thalassian, “You cannot fully understand me but you will understand my meaning. We are the Horde. We are Rend Fate. Tell all that you know that we will tolerate no Alliance attacking Horde at any time, in any place.” Her voice lowered as she leaned close to the Hunter’s ear and whispered again, “We are Rend Fate.”
With that, she stood and walked back to the Paladin squatting next to Orkwar. The Hunter struggled on his last good leg to stand. Failing that, he made his way up to all fours and began to slink away, crawling with his one good arm and leg.
“Greetings Orc, I am Linaran of Rend Fate,” the Paladin said. “My friend here is Shelandria.”
The Rogue waved to Orkwar. Looking at the two, Orkwar spoke, “I am Orkwar of the Warsong clan. I am in debt to you for my life.”
Shelandria chuckled, “We hold no debts for members of the Horde. Especially one where killing Alliance are concerned.”
Linaran nodded, “Lie still for a moment and let me tend your wounds.” She stood back as Orkwar rested upon his knees. Pulling from the Light, Linaran began to glow again.
“Show-off,” muttered Shelandria with a smile.
The glow radiated from Linaran and passed through Orkwar’s body. Instantly he felt new. Reborn. He stood and inspected his armor. The blood had caked to it and he was still tinged in red.
“The healing doesn’t do much for cleaning up,” Linaran said, “but it sure makes the pain go away.”
“That it does, Blood Elf,” Orkwar agreed.
The three stood for a moment trading glances. The shockwave that rippled over them from the direction of the Hunter caused them the staggered.
“Haha! Did you SEE THAT!?” a voice called. The three turned and saw the crater nearly six meters in diameter.
A Blood Elf blinked into existence by the three and said, “Boy, that Hunter was weird. It was like he was sniffing the ground or something. I felt you guys call on the stone and when I got here, he was poking around near you. I’ve never had such a great opportunity for a Pyroblast test so I thought I’d take advantage of an unaware target.”
Linaran turned from the newcomer to Orkwar and said, “This is Casivixia.”
As if just taking in notice of the surroundings, Casivixia said, “So I guess the fight’s over? Phooey.” She pouted in a way only a Blood Elf could.
Shelandria grinned, “There’s always more Alliance, Casi. To Stranglethorn Vale?”
Casivixia nodded and turned to Orkwar, “Does he wanna tag along?”
Orkwar grinned, baring his tusks beneath his helmet. He grabbed his shield, slung it to his back and pulled his axes from where they lied. Hefting them in his massive hands, he squeezed and felt his new strength.
“Absolutely.” Looking to Shelandria, he added, “For the Horde. For Rend Fate.”
For Rend Fate (RP intro)
I posted the following on my Guild's website, but I think I'd make one here too.
Name: Orkwar
Race: Orc
Clan: Warsong
Class: Warrior
Professions: Mining/ Skinning
Current Home: His Armor.
Age: 26 years
Brief Physical Description: Armor is always immaculate. It is not unused, as it is worn but it is pristine condition from care. He has many scars and red eyes. It is his Armor that is his real appearance.
Brief Personality Description: Loud and brash, sometimes bordering on rude. This is not from his lack of caring but more from his single-mindedness. When he makes a vow or is determined, he won't be stopped and it is just better, generally, to let the snake bite him or the fire burn him for him to figure out. He can be playful - kinda like a gorilla with an expensive china doll playful - so be mindful.
Goals and motivation: Instinctively, and because of his upbringing, Orkwar knows about fighting and that's it. He does not care of the why. If someone says they are his friend, they are. If he is told by someone he trusts that there is an enemy, there is. Deep down, however, there is a thirst for knowledge at wanting to know MORE about the WHYS of things and not just follow blindly. Since his journey to Outland, Orkwar has begun broadening his mind as well by joining with the Aldor because their cause felt right.
Are you passionate about the war?: Orkwar views his life through war. Each time he survives, he grows. If he is defeated, he learns and comes back for the next round. He is on one side, his friends with him and the opponents are everyone else. He will lead the charge and direct blunt force trauma where needed.
-On the Alliance: He understands the need for "peaceful negotiation." For him, it can mean talking to an understandable conclusion or using blunt instruments instead of pointy ones. However, being of the Warsong clan, he harbors ill-will towards Night Elves.
-On the Tauren and Troll: He sees them as brothers. They are his equals.
-On the Forsaken: In the beginning, Orkwar saw them as Scourge. He did not know of the difference until he was told by announcement from Thrall, after which, he viewed them as brothers. He harbors no ill-will towards Forsaken.
-On the Blood Elves: He knows little of them. He understands they are single-minded but that in itself is not bad. He has been to their city. He has seen the Naaru there. He believes Blood Elves to be misguided in their treatment of the Naaru, especially after learning more from the Naaru in Shattrath, A’dal. To Orkwar, Blood Elves are like an especially dangerous and meticulously designed dagger, except that the hilt is a blade as well.
Story: Orkwar has seen 9,500 sunrises. Watching his newest one he smiles inwardly to himself as he stares at the Outland sky.
That number is going to increase much faster with two suns, he thinks to himself.
He gazes across the plains of Hellfire Peninsula and breathes in the air. It smells of brimstone, sulphur, magic and grass. He still has not figured out where the last comes from as there is no grass in Hellfire.
It must blow in from Shattrath though it does not smell of jungle. Soon enough, I’ll see more. Soon enough.
As the first of the sun’s rays (the smaller sun) appear in the sky, Orkwar stands. The plains of Hellfire are alive, as barren as they seem from when he stepped through the Dark Portal.
“The boars must eat fire,” Orkwar chuckles to himself.
He stands atop the Citadel, his shield on his back and his axe at his side. The crushed bodies of the Fel Orcs who guard the entrance to the Ramparts are behind him. Their blood still glows from their partaking of Mannoroth’s venom as it runs down the side of the Citadel walls.
Banee shifts from his cat form and says, “Today will be a good day, Orkwar. A good day. I thank you for your assistance. May the Earthmother guide you.”
“You deserve the thanks, my friend,” Orkwar responds.
“One of these days I’ll discover your penchant for watching sunrises,” Banee says. “Until then, stay safe.”
Orkwar looks at the druid, “Aka’Magosh.”
With that, Banee’s skin distorts again and he becomes a cheetah. He sprints up the walkway, past the stone and towards Thrallmar looking for his next adventure.
Orkwar smiles inwardly. The sun represented the Horde’s rebirth. He did not remember much of the time before coming to Durotar, it was as if a fog was constantly on his memory. But always, through that fog, the strands of sunlight from each sunrise pierced his mind and told him to watch – as if something magical was happening.
He was raised by Orcs, he remembered that. He remembers their viciousness, the wars with the humans, the loss, and the camps. He remembers all of those things but they mean nothing to him. They only gave him scars on his physical body.
He was born anew with the rising of the Horde. Thrall had given them all, Taurens, Trolls, Forsaken and even Blood Elf, something more to fight for. He had given them hope that they could experience another sunrise.
Name: Orkwar
Race: Orc
Clan: Warsong
Class: Warrior
Professions: Mining/ Skinning
Current Home: His Armor.
Age: 26 years
Brief Physical Description: Armor is always immaculate. It is not unused, as it is worn but it is pristine condition from care. He has many scars and red eyes. It is his Armor that is his real appearance.
Brief Personality Description: Loud and brash, sometimes bordering on rude. This is not from his lack of caring but more from his single-mindedness. When he makes a vow or is determined, he won't be stopped and it is just better, generally, to let the snake bite him or the fire burn him for him to figure out. He can be playful - kinda like a gorilla with an expensive china doll playful - so be mindful.
Goals and motivation: Instinctively, and because of his upbringing, Orkwar knows about fighting and that's it. He does not care of the why. If someone says they are his friend, they are. If he is told by someone he trusts that there is an enemy, there is. Deep down, however, there is a thirst for knowledge at wanting to know MORE about the WHYS of things and not just follow blindly. Since his journey to Outland, Orkwar has begun broadening his mind as well by joining with the Aldor because their cause felt right.
Are you passionate about the war?: Orkwar views his life through war. Each time he survives, he grows. If he is defeated, he learns and comes back for the next round. He is on one side, his friends with him and the opponents are everyone else. He will lead the charge and direct blunt force trauma where needed.
-On the Alliance: He understands the need for "peaceful negotiation." For him, it can mean talking to an understandable conclusion or using blunt instruments instead of pointy ones. However, being of the Warsong clan, he harbors ill-will towards Night Elves.
-On the Tauren and Troll: He sees them as brothers. They are his equals.
-On the Forsaken: In the beginning, Orkwar saw them as Scourge. He did not know of the difference until he was told by announcement from Thrall, after which, he viewed them as brothers. He harbors no ill-will towards Forsaken.
-On the Blood Elves: He knows little of them. He understands they are single-minded but that in itself is not bad. He has been to their city. He has seen the Naaru there. He believes Blood Elves to be misguided in their treatment of the Naaru, especially after learning more from the Naaru in Shattrath, A’dal. To Orkwar, Blood Elves are like an especially dangerous and meticulously designed dagger, except that the hilt is a blade as well.
Story: Orkwar has seen 9,500 sunrises. Watching his newest one he smiles inwardly to himself as he stares at the Outland sky.
That number is going to increase much faster with two suns, he thinks to himself.
He gazes across the plains of Hellfire Peninsula and breathes in the air. It smells of brimstone, sulphur, magic and grass. He still has not figured out where the last comes from as there is no grass in Hellfire.
It must blow in from Shattrath though it does not smell of jungle. Soon enough, I’ll see more. Soon enough.
As the first of the sun’s rays (the smaller sun) appear in the sky, Orkwar stands. The plains of Hellfire are alive, as barren as they seem from when he stepped through the Dark Portal.
“The boars must eat fire,” Orkwar chuckles to himself.
He stands atop the Citadel, his shield on his back and his axe at his side. The crushed bodies of the Fel Orcs who guard the entrance to the Ramparts are behind him. Their blood still glows from their partaking of Mannoroth’s venom as it runs down the side of the Citadel walls.
Banee shifts from his cat form and says, “Today will be a good day, Orkwar. A good day. I thank you for your assistance. May the Earthmother guide you.”
“You deserve the thanks, my friend,” Orkwar responds.
“One of these days I’ll discover your penchant for watching sunrises,” Banee says. “Until then, stay safe.”
Orkwar looks at the druid, “Aka’Magosh.”
With that, Banee’s skin distorts again and he becomes a cheetah. He sprints up the walkway, past the stone and towards Thrallmar looking for his next adventure.
Orkwar smiles inwardly. The sun represented the Horde’s rebirth. He did not remember much of the time before coming to Durotar, it was as if a fog was constantly on his memory. But always, through that fog, the strands of sunlight from each sunrise pierced his mind and told him to watch – as if something magical was happening.
He was raised by Orcs, he remembered that. He remembers their viciousness, the wars with the humans, the loss, and the camps. He remembers all of those things but they mean nothing to him. They only gave him scars on his physical body.
He was born anew with the rising of the Horde. Thrall had given them all, Taurens, Trolls, Forsaken and even Blood Elf, something more to fight for. He had given them hope that they could experience another sunrise.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Tier 0 Outlands Look-a-like
Stumbled across these little goodies. Another goal to shoot for as you work to 70 is the Tier 0 look-a-like set. It has no helm but I've found a replacement for that.
Hellfire Ramparts 60-62
WAIST: Tenacious Defender (Omor the Unscathed, 13%) [**obtained in 4 runs**]
FEET: Ironsole Clompers (Naz and Vaz, 18%) [**obtained in 13 runs**]
The Blood Furnace 61-63
HANDS: Ironblade Gauntlets (The Maker, 16%) [**obtained in 1 run**]
The Slave Pens 62-64
CHEST: Unscarred Breastplate (Quagmirran, 20%) [**obtained in 2 runs**]
The Underbog 63-65
SHOULDERS: Pauldrons of Brute Force (The Black Stalker, 16%) [**obtained in 3 runs**]
LEGS: Greaves of the Iron Guardian (Swamplord Musel'ek, 17%) [**obtained in 8 runs**]
Mana Tombs 64-66
WRISTS: Nexus-Bracers of Vigor (Nexus-Prince Shaffar, 12%)
SHIELD: Shield of the Void (Pandemonius, 13%)
Auchenai Crypts 65-67
HEAD: Hope Bearer Helm (Shirrak the Dead Watcher, 16%)
Hellfire Ramparts 60-62
WAIST: Tenacious Defender (Omor the Unscathed, 13%) [**obtained in 4 runs**]
FEET: Ironsole Clompers (Naz and Vaz, 18%) [**obtained in 13 runs**]
The Blood Furnace 61-63
HANDS: Ironblade Gauntlets (The Maker, 16%) [**obtained in 1 run**]
The Slave Pens 62-64
CHEST: Unscarred Breastplate (Quagmirran, 20%) [**obtained in 2 runs**]
The Underbog 63-65
SHOULDERS: Pauldrons of Brute Force (The Black Stalker, 16%) [**obtained in 3 runs**]
LEGS: Greaves of the Iron Guardian (Swamplord Musel'ek, 17%) [**obtained in 8 runs**]
Mana Tombs 64-66
WRISTS: Nexus-Bracers of Vigor (Nexus-Prince Shaffar, 12%)
SHIELD: Shield of the Void (Pandemonius, 13%)
Auchenai Crypts 65-67
HEAD: Hope Bearer Helm (Shirrak the Dead Watcher, 16%)
What I gots...
Over the flu. Woot!
So I've been running around Hellfire Peninsula acting all cool and stuff and I've finally gotten some gear to show for it. I've filled my head, my shoulders, my back, my chest, my wrist, my waist, my waist, my DW Axes, and my shield.
I'm feelin' pretty good so far. That just leaves my -
Neck
Hands
Feet
Ring x 2
Trinket x 2
for me to fill up. Not too shabby at only level 60.
So I've been running around Hellfire Peninsula acting all cool and stuff and I've finally gotten some gear to show for it. I've filled my head, my shoulders, my back, my chest, my wrist, my waist, my waist, my DW Axes, and my shield.
I'm feelin' pretty good so far. That just leaves my -
Neck
Hands
Feet
Ring x 2
Trinket x 2
for me to fill up. Not too shabby at only level 60.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Flu stinky
I've had the flu the last couple of days so the posting has really slowed down. On top of that, my midterm for the the 70-271 exam is coming up and I need to start studying there in RL.
Otherwise, I jumped onto WoW to tank my first Outlands instance. We wiped hard on the last boss in Ramparts. The Paly we had as a healer was spec'd Prot but the group leader had him being our Main Healer. We had no other heals coming in. I took 2 giant fireballs and then I'd go pop. 3.7k damage from each. Don't have the STA pool to handle that yet.
Also be debating if switching to full Prot was a good idea. I feel like I play my class well enough that I'll be able to "survive" in PvP but I'm used to rockin' so it'll be a minor change.
Meh, I'll deal. It certainly has increased my livespan, though. I can 3 pull mobs 1-2 lvls higher than me and clear 'em without too much difficulty.
I want to tank right now, anyway. Not straight PvP. There'll be time for that later.
Otherwise, I jumped onto WoW to tank my first Outlands instance. We wiped hard on the last boss in Ramparts. The Paly we had as a healer was spec'd Prot but the group leader had him being our Main Healer. We had no other heals coming in. I took 2 giant fireballs and then I'd go pop. 3.7k damage from each. Don't have the STA pool to handle that yet.
Also be debating if switching to full Prot was a good idea. I feel like I play my class well enough that I'll be able to "survive" in PvP but I'm used to rockin' so it'll be a minor change.
Meh, I'll deal. It certainly has increased my livespan, though. I can 3 pull mobs 1-2 lvls higher than me and clear 'em without too much difficulty.
I want to tank right now, anyway. Not straight PvP. There'll be time for that later.
Outlands
I broke down. I went to Outlands at 58. I know, I know. I said I'd wait to 60.
SOOOOOOOOOO GLAD I DIDN'T!
Believe the rumors and whispers. Outlands has streets paved of gold. Gear falls from the heavens. Fel Reavers CAN sneak up on you. 10 Stories of sheer pwning with, I swear, a BLINK SPELL!
I took all kinds of screen shots. I flooded guild chat with OMG and links to all the new gear I was getting.
Yes, I replaced my purple shield on my 2nd quest. I kinda cried at that one.
So I'm 59 now, going to AV, WSG, and AB my way to a PvP mount. Don't need many wins.
PS - Switched to full Prot tank spec. I still rocked. Hard.
SOOOOOOOOOO GLAD I DIDN'T!
Believe the rumors and whispers. Outlands has streets paved of gold. Gear falls from the heavens. Fel Reavers CAN sneak up on you. 10 Stories of sheer pwning with, I swear, a BLINK SPELL!
I took all kinds of screen shots. I flooded guild chat with OMG and links to all the new gear I was getting.
Yes, I replaced my purple shield on my 2nd quest. I kinda cried at that one.
So I'm 59 now, going to AV, WSG, and AB my way to a PvP mount. Don't need many wins.
PS - Switched to full Prot tank spec. I still rocked. Hard.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Banee Rocks HARDCORE!
So, Banee and I were in Winterspring slaughtering some Yetis and Owlbear/beast things. Who knew they carried such great shields?
Skullflame Shield
Oh yes. I went and slapped a +18 STA on it. Now, looks like I have a great shield to start my Tanking XP at 60. It also looks FRAKKIN' SWEET! The flame and and skull thing, SWEEEET!
Gotta say thanks to Banee for it, though. It was his idea to quest out Winterspring. Man were we tearing it up. Can't WAIT for Outlands.
I find myself running in front of other tanks and pressing my D-stance macro to pop the shield on my back. Those flames kick out and it's like "LOOK AT ME, RAWR!!!"
Rock on.
Skullflame Shield
Oh yes. I went and slapped a +18 STA on it. Now, looks like I have a great shield to start my Tanking XP at 60. It also looks FRAKKIN' SWEET! The flame and and skull thing, SWEEEET!
Gotta say thanks to Banee for it, though. It was his idea to quest out Winterspring. Man were we tearing it up. Can't WAIT for Outlands.
I find myself running in front of other tanks and pressing my D-stance macro to pop the shield on my back. Those flames kick out and it's like "LOOK AT ME, RAWR!!!"
Rock on.
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