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The Return of Khorvis

Posted: Tue Oct 16, 2012 11:51 am
by Khorvis
Part One

The cold was everything. No longer painful, it simply was. Time stood still for Khorvis, and yet hours crept into days, weeks into months. A tomb of ice, forgotten in the depths of a shattered empire, became the orc's purgatory and prison in which to remember that fateful assault ...

"This is our final stand! What happens here will echo through the ages. Regardless of outcome, they will know that we fought with honor. That we fought for the freedom and safety of our people!"

Highlord Tirion Fordring's battle hymn echoed from the chamber walls of Light's Hammer, and Khorvis's bloodrage swelled within. The words became a muted buzz as the host surged forward into the Scourge's ranks - Argent Vanguard, Horde, and Alliance alike. Nothing could hope to stop this assembled mass of Azeroth's greatest heroes, and Khorvis swung his axe in reckless abandon. Waves of the skeletal undead fell before cleaves, ground to dust beneath titansteel shod heels, and sundered by the Grim's most relentless combatants.

Planting one boot against the unmoving husk of necromantic defilement, Khorvis wrenched his blade from bone and stood erect, surveying the carnage. Through the blood red haze of the battle lust, he had barely a moment to glimpse the raised hands of cobalt-robed human. Time ground to a halt as the mage's smirk contorted into a snarl. In that breath, Khorvis locked eyes with what he knew to be an age old foe, and dread clutched the aging warrior's heart. Eldritch lightning leapt forth from the traitor's weaving and slammed with titanic force - directly into the ebon floorstone where Khorvis dove. With a shower of debris, the orc plummeted down, down, down, the earth swallowing him whole ...

Blackness and the sound of skittering consumed him, as did the suffocating stench of rot and death ...

...

Khorvis slowly awoke to the chattering of mandibles on chitin. The air was rank with decay and the metallic tang of blood. Through glazed eyes, he could make out insectoid forms prostrating in abeyance to a massive fiend, something so horrible that no campaign in Silithus could have prepared his stomach.

"This is bloody it," Khorvis grunted through a broken rib and what could have been a punctured lung. The orc tilted his head back and roared defiance, struggling at webbed bonds. "Then have me, you filthy bugs! Feast on the best damn flesh you'll ever get from the scraps of your master!"

A crazed gleam entered the warrior's eyes as he welcomed the inevitable, but the crypt fiend pondered toward the captive with a circuitous gait. Grey, green, and violet mandibles undulated in a menacing wave scant inches before Khorvis's snout and a gust of putrid malodor threatened to suffocate the orc.

"No. The master will want this one for himself .... see that it is prepared and un ... disfigured ...." The hulking nerubian uttered its directives with what could only be interpreted as a mocking tone.

Multiple scourge-cursed channelers clattered forward, incanting a complex weave of frost and bone that slowing began to envelope Khorvis's already broken form.

"You scum-sucking sons of goats! You think a block of ice can slow this orc down?! I'll stuff all eight of your bloody legs up each of your ar--"

The nerubians' spell finished and fully encased the warrior in a tomb of unholy ice. Their task complete, the channelers raced into the ascending passageways to reinforce the front. Thunderous explosions continued to rock the foundations of Icecrown Citadel, and above, the Scourge forces were slowly driven back further and further into its blighted halls.

Yet in the ancient caverns of the Upper Kingdom, Khorvis was forgotten, sustained yet unliving, entombed in necromantic frost and left for dead. Darkness closed in on those reliquaries and though the eyes of the Warchief shifted elsewhere, the gaze of one orc warrior stared unblinking, seething in rage.

((To be continued))

Re: The Return of Khorvis

Posted: Sat Nov 17, 2012 4:12 am
by Khorvis
Part Two

The slow steady sound of water dripping from icy stalactites echoed throughout the Nerubian complex. Snowy white walls contrasted with the symmetric obsidian architecture of the doomed subterranean race, lit by the soft glow of bioluminescence. With no king, stillness reigned in the caverns below the Icecrown Citadel for over a year. The frost prison encasing Khorvis held fast and kept him trapped in stasis.

Then the ceiling shivered. Columns of ice began to tremble; hairline cracks raced over their surfaces. A massive shard of stone detached from above and crashed into the dais holding Khorvis, barely missing the orc by mere feet. With a titanic boom, blinding light breached the cavern from above and two immense forms plummeted for hundreds of yards before their flight was ended upon an obsidian obelisk. Two impaled drakes screamed in mock harmony, one ruby, the other a twisted and deformed shade of twilight, as their last ounce of life was spent clawing and rending open eachother's scaled flesh.

As soon as it had begun, the drama had ended in gory finality, spilling forth the serpents' lifeblood onto the dais. Crackling and hissing replaced the drakes' cries as the molten ichor of the twilight drake began to eat through Khorvis' entombment. The scent of charring flesh quickly joined the steam and the warrior began howling in agony, writhing and twisting at his frozen shackles until, finally, he broke free. Rolling to and fro into the snow, Khorvis clutched his right side which cracked and blistered. On all fours, the orc slowly dragged himself through dim underground toward a tunnel entrance, away from the spreading pool of fiery blood ...

((To be continued))