Grim Views

The Streyth Incident

Enheilras - November 10, 2005

Manus sat in the Ratchet Tavern, resting as his armor was drying
near the Hearth, freshly wiped of pirate blood from the goons of
Baron Longshore. He had just ordered some fried squid, and could
see the animal squirming on the cooking pan, still alive, as the
goblins began hastily trying to kill it as they cooked it. He
laughed softly, as the antics of 'Gazlowe's boys' always did seem
to cheer one up a bit. He could hear their squeely voices
shouting as they fought the tentacled beast with a spiked mace,
and they seemed to be losing.

Just then, Riga and Trabian, two High Orcs that had also managed
to survive Aieer, but never told Manus how, burst into the
building. Upon seeing Riga, who was always dressed in red and
adorned himself in religious ornaments of Lopnel, God of
Conquest, one of the nearby bruisers got a bit edgy. The Orc's
dorn, named Beladrien immediately took it upon herself to sieze a
nearby patron's Big Bear Steak, to which the dwarf, a longshore
runner working for the Undermine--having no affiliation or
loyalties with Ironforge--had no intention of being so gracious
with his meal. Perhaps he was intoxicated, or perhaps its just
the nature of the dwarves, but as soon as the stubble-legged one
leapt off the dining table, tackling the wolf-life creature, and
began trying to wrest the meat from its maw, the immediate
silence, then laughter of the tavern, ensued. Riga grinned,
tossing six silver pieces ot the butcher for a replacement
steak--for his pet--and vowed the Crimson Blessing to the goblin.

Trabian Riil, much more meek than the Grand Crusader of Lopnel he
traveled with, placed his staff upon his belt, wrapped around a
blood-red robe, decorated in Elemental Runes of Fire and Chaos.
Zigmir, a demonic imp, rested upon his right shoulder, opposite a
second imp-like creature n amed Sa'Diablos. Trabian's face, once
very soft and handsome, had begun to slowly contort and age due
to his sudden deluge into the Nether, only to have a massive dose
of the core of the Void infused inside him. However, despite the
fact that Trabian had transformed into a vessel of entropy, he
still retained much of his soul and personality, though he
remained full of guilt over circumstances to which he obviously
had no control over.

Manus waved to the two, and upon seeing the Orc, Trabian shoved
Riga to get his attention, as the hunter was distracted by the
now mangled Dwarf, instructing him about 'proper playtime' before
slapping him across the face with the second meat steak, and
pointed to Manus. Riga's cynical expression changed to genuine
surprise, and the two approached the Warmaster.

"Throm'ka Hunter, Warlock," Manus greeted, nodding once to each.

"Throm'ka EnheilRas," the two replied, and sat down.

"I've not seen you here in this hovel before EnheilRas," Trabian
commented. "What brings you to rest here? The Blackmouth are out
of season for the winter."

"Just heard the squid was good. Had it imported from
Steamweedle's Port to here from Booty Bay. I didn't feel like
going to either, as I wanted to eat in Peace," Manus informed his
Tactician.

Riga laughed and slapped Trebelium's left shoulder, "It's a nice
enough pit Manus. The food's not bad, the local fauna are weak,
and there's always some fool who thinks he can get off the boat
with a free pass to avoid a major ass-kicking. That's why I like
it anyway," the Hunter informed.

Trabian leaned over to Manus, "He's taken a liking to sitting on
the Hill right outside and popping aimed shots on whoever steps
on the dock. The brute finds it hilarious. He's been asking me to
call him Zietsev." Manus let a weak smile emerge. He would
usually laugh at such a comment, as reminding him of the great
Dorn Rider Zietsev, an Orc that would fancy shooting a bow with
the precision of an Elven marksman while standing on the saddle
of his dorn in motion, as a parlor trick in great festivals over
in the great city of Ursa. Noticing this, Trabian further
inquired, "Is something wrong EnheilRas?"

Riga raised his hand, "Bring us a pitcher of Stout woman! And
don't be flappin' them huge-ass red lips either! Chop Chop lest
Bela here decides she wants a goblin hambone!"

Manus finished his glass of milk he had purchased in a skin from
Boorand in the Crossroads and nodded to Trabian. "Some business
has arisen yes brother. There is a matter I must deal with
concerning a Forsaken."

Riga rolled his eyes, "Those things might be getting too soft and
cushy in their position. Tell me who he is so I may gut him, and
turn his ribs into a xylophone! I promise to play a grand
symphony worthy of the infamous Gurubashi Troll Steel Drum Band
of Stranglethorn Vale."

Manus coughed, "That's not necessary Riga."

The Crusader shrugged, "If you say so.. I'll just go find some
other rot-head and do it to them.. It sounds like it'd be fun."

"What occured, EnheilRas?" Trabian asked.

"The Forsaken had joined a troll, a warlock, a rogue and myself
to investigate the Monastary. He was an advanced warrior, by no
means an expert in the trade, but at the experience where he
could aid in he knew what he was doing," Manus explained.

"So what was the problem then?" Riga demanded as the short
goblinette dropped a pitcher of alcohol down on the table,
mirroring the brash rudeness that was displayed to her by the Orc
in question.

"Well," Manus began. "I can't really say. He was just human, and
didn't seem to understand the way Orcs speak. He seemed to take
great offense at being called Forsaken, or being referred to as
Warrior. He wanted to be called by his name given to him by his
mother way-back-who-knows-when. He said it shows him respect."

"Odd," Trabian commented. "Seems as if he might have cherished
something in his previous life. Perhaps it is the human's way to
show each other knowledge of the other's individuality. I rarely
have ever heard two men walk to each other, address themselves by
Human, or Warrior, as we Orcs tend to, but that's just how the
cultures are. EnheilRas, though we Orcs tend to frown upon a
thing like individuality, as well as our society deems us never
to address a person you don't know by their name out of respect
for who or what they are, sometimes we must learn to adapt in
minor situations."

Riga spat out a blast of liquor. "Don't listen to that pansy
Manus! Our culture is dying, and we're the last of a dying breed
of Orcs who've lived on Draenor. We must be dedicated in allowing
every facet of our kind survive. The Forsaken thought it
disrespectful according to his ways not to say his name, but in
our ways, that is how one does show respect to them!
Interpersonal conversation is to be left in the homes and in the
Inns, not in the warground. If he refuses to accept Orcs acting
like Orcs, then that's just his damned fault! The Horde is not a
place for individuality, and if the Forsaken wish to be blessed
by us, then they should realize this as soon as they can. The
Horde is one being, which all races serve as the cogs to run the
great machine. We don't stand out, and we don't want to, we just
want to live, do our job by serving the great Horde, and be
replaced when we're of no use or we die. That's our path in life,
and if they don't want to place themselves in the cog-matrix,
then they can just stay out of the Horde's lands."

Trabian laughed a bit, "I think you've spent too much time in the
engineering workshop Riga, the screws and powder are certainly
going to your head."

Riga sneered, "Don't mess with me warlock. I've made so many guns
and bombs, to this point I'm eating the blasting powder and
firing rockets out of my ass. They just have a Tauren carry me
across their shoulder as we rush into the Gulch, and aim my big
green butt in the air to launch a volley of missiles at the
Silvering Refuge."

After the laughter died town, Trabian interjected, "It does
indeed sound like a culture clash was inevitable with this
Forsaken, EnheilRas. He seemed stubborn to accept another
people's ways, even though the opposite meant the same, but then
again, I know you very well Manus, and I know how hard-headed and
impatient you can be to apologize and tell others that you may be
wrong, in any regard."

Riga stood up and slapped Trabian in the back of his head, "Fool!
Apologies are for the weak! To apologize for anything is to put
yourself under the influence of some other power. It means that
there is a force stronger than your own will, and you allow
yourself to be controlled by it to admit wrongs. The Doctrine is
fatalist in this regard. What is done is done, and the best thing
to do is just keep going and try to forget about it, or just do
better next time in redemption, but apologizing is useless
because it does nothing! Feelings are for the weak, as they slow
the blade at the moment of truth. Soldiers must be stoic Warlock.
There must be no regret."

Trabian rubbed his head a bit, signalling an 'ow' sound with his
mouth, "And what if that power is simply guilt Riga? What then?
Even the Great Hellscream lived with Guilt for many decades."

Riga Snarled, unable to answer for a moment. "Guilt? Feh.
Acceptance of wrongs as wrongs. Just work harder. There's no use
trying to change the past, but in improving the future. Why waste
time dwelling on events that can not be modified?"

"Because of people's feelings," Trabian answered. "So people will
think better of you for being a better person. It takes a strong
man to admit that he's wrong Riga. You may say it shows weakness
of will to apologize, but it shows a weakness of heart to be
stubborn in the face of blatantly incorrect behavior."

"People's feelings can also be manipulated through future actions
Warlock. Everyone has a bad day, and everyone makes mistakes in
their words and movements. People need to realize that no one is
perfect, and that we are born flawed. Forgiveness should never be
too hard to attain. Redemption should never be impossible to
find. You may say it is a weakness of heart to apologize, but I
say it is a hardness of soul to never forgive," Riga retorted.
"Is it about respect? No, I don't think so at all. You weren't
disrespecting him at all EnheilRas. You were respecting him as an
Orc respects others, and from what I know of you and how you
usually deal with Forsaken, he must have been blessed that you
were that nice to him. He over-reacted, and was completely
over-sensitive, and ultimately brought the upsetting nature of
the situation upon himself by throwing a huge hissy fit. You
shouldn't feel ashamed of his over-the-top dramatic behavior."

"But how we were raised and how he was raised are two completely
different things. How we see respect and how they see respect are
obviously very opposite Riga," Trabian explained. "This is the
problem, and although yes, he was a stranger to you EnheilRas,
and you shows the utmost respect an Orc can to a complete
stranger. Names aren't important to the Horde, it's about what
you are and what you can do, but the Forsaken aren't in the
Horde, as you so like to preach Manus, so treating them like the
Horde may not be advised as this one, at least, took major
offense at it. Perhaps he did over-react slightly, did the rest
of the group think that?"

Manus nodded. It was clear that Moirissi, the Forsaken Warlock,
and Gorn, the Orc rogue, did indeed find it a bit oversensitive
that the Forsaken outrightly abandoned the team over the ordeal.
The allied Clan Troll Priest, Zaraza, was calmly silent about the
whole affair, but clearly just wanted to see things move on, as
he had an item to attain!

"Well, that was clearly uncooth for the action to take place, but
you probably didn't seem too sorry that it did happen EnheilRas,"
Trabian went onto saying. "Although I can really only advise that
you do apologize for the events and be the bigger Orc for it, I
can't really see you jumping right back in on equal footing.
Trouble is Trouble Manus, and although I know you hate to admit
it, you've always had a problem following anyone else's authority
but your own. It's so in your nature to lead that you hate to
follow or to have someone's rules lauded over your actions to
restrict you. That's what got you in so much trouble with Thrall,
if I recall, and had you suspended from the military for many
months."

Riga snorted as he finished a third pint. "Well, I'm about
boozled as can be, there anything else to do around here but get
drunk and kill shit? Wait... that's why I love this place!"

Manus sighed deeply, his mind heavy with thoughts.

"Anything else that occured EnheilRas?" Trabian asked as Riga
began loading his gun, some of the shells going in backwards in
his state.

"He did prefer to try to take on the Monastary by himself with
the use of a corpsemaker. At 36th Seasons, he would have far
outgrown the axe in its usefulness, as well as being a main
warrior at that power without a shield causes a much heavier
reliance on arcane support than it should be, putting much more
stress on the team," Manus explained to his tactician.

"Wise enough, yes. A Warrior is only as good as the equipment
they adorn himself with. It's very true that being the main
hatemonger of a siege without the use of a shield puts a much
heavier burden on priests, druids, and even Shaman like yourself
to keep him alive, and is very recommended against, and the fact
that a warrior of his potency should have his Whirlwind Blessing
by now anyway, you shouldn't be so upfront about these young
warriors as you are Manus, even if you claim to know better after
being one for fourty damned years," Trabian said. "It's that
sometimes, even if you aim to be helpful and advising of others,
it can come out the wrong way and sound completely rude. Just
another one of your flaws EnheilRas, but that's probably
something picked up from Happy Gunboy there, as he's just as
impulsive."

"What did you say about me Warlock?" Riga asked in stupor, aiming
his gun at the Warlock and firing the Rifle. Being intoxicated
caused the aim to be off just slightly so the slug, fired in a
backwards state, launched off, hitting a coathanger at such a
speed that the back of the slug fired the round back at Riga, who
was caught in his shoulder and blown off his feet to the ground,
laughing.

Trabian just sighed and picked the bleeding Hunter up, "I think
it's time for a nap Riga." He nodded to Manus, "We'll meet up
again EnheilRas. Take care." The two left the Inn, heading for
the Crossroads to catch a flight to Orgrimmar. Manus sat down for
another hour, poking at the cold squid before him. He wasn't that
hungry anyway, as he had some thinking to do.

The Menethil Mash

Chilalli - November 18, 2005

Standing near King Menethil's old throne the group nervously
checked their armor. Word had spread like a wildfire that the
Alliance would dance with the Dark Queen.

Many tabards were proudly worn by more Horde than she could
count. Snowfeather was ready, regardless of what they brought to
this doorstep.

A group of twenty strong, blood-thirsty fighters were at her
command. Some stationed at the sewer, some at the front gate and
a few out in the shadows waiting for signs of war.

The war came hard and fast and was over before she was saited.
Many in the group were thirtsy for more. The Grim and her allies
would not allow the Alliance to even think they could tread on
the hallowed ground of Lady Sylvanas without some sort of
retribution.

The decision was made. The Alliance chose to attempt defilement
of Menethil's final resing place, the Horde would take this
insult to his harbor.

Less than 30 Horde set out from Hammerfall with blood in their
eyes at 10:30 p.m. Bluff time. The Horde, dedicated to fighting
until the odds were insurmountable, held the bridge of Menethil
for nearly 90 minutes.

No Alliance dog was given safe harbor who tried to enter or leave
the dead King's port. The Horde were efficient and foolhardy, and
a few were beyond inebriated, Snowfeather included. Many were
tiring of battle and some called for retreat. Snowfeather yelled
several times "We stay until they MAKE us leave, even if we are
here all night!"

Finally, after many deaths of the bloated enemy, the group was
ushered out of the marsh in a most honorable fashion - for war.

In the blink of an eye, it was over. The Alliance reclaimed their
dead King's honor, and the Horde left knowing the Alliance would
think twice the next time they attempted to visit the Forsaken
captiol.

A night to remember for a good time to come.