A journey for glory.

[Hektar]

((EDIT: September 2, 2009 : I have wanted to finish this story for quite sometime as it explains Hektars absence last summer while I was on deployment so I will be finishing it over the coming weeks, I have moved the first three parts of the story into a single post and edited it slightly, though mostly for Grammar and spelling.))


Part 1:

Several months after the re-opening of the dark portal...

    Hektar removed the last pieces of armour strapped to his body and made his way to the wash basin he kept on a bench in his quarters in Shattrath.  He then went to work, scrubbing the blood and gore of those he killed from his skin.  After several minutes he looked himself over and nodded approvingly. His muscles ached from a long battle alongside the Grim within Coilfang Reservoir, but fatigue was no excuse for poor hygiene.  

    He sat down upon the pile of skins and cloth that passed for an orcish bed and used a piece of Runecloth to carefully polish his tusks.  He had always been proud of his tusks, during the second war and third wars his brothers in arms had always teased him about it, but he was sure they were just jealous of their fine shine.

    Having completed his nightly ritual Hektar laid back and cleared his mind of all thoughts. ‘Tonight I’ll sleep like a kodo’ he thought as he drifted off.

    Dreams, dreams were always Hektars favorite part of sleeping, though as a shaman these were sometimes replaced by visions, when this happened he would wake up more tired than when he had gone to rest.  But that would not be a problem tonight, for tonight he began to dream his favorite dream, he was flying over the oceans.  Not a soul in sight, just Hektar, the sky and the sea below. He soared for some time and happiness filled his heart. There was a time when only this dream could make Hektar smile, and then it only did so while he dreamt it.  

    But then, a change, something different occurred.  To the North he could see fog on the horizon, thick fog, the thickest he had ever seen.  Deciding he wanted nothing to do with this new addition to his dream Hektar turned to the south, but then found himself flying backward. He gained speed as he traveled toward the fog, and hard as he might try he could not fight it.  Then he was within the fog, and he could not tell which way he traveled.  He could not see his hand when he held it a foot in front of his face.  

    His body began to ache and he knew this had become a vision. Disappointed at the intrusion into his sleep but curious none the less as to what the ancestors deemed he should see Hektar stopped fighting the force pulling him along. The fog parted without warning and Hektar found himself floating toward a chain of three snow covered islands.  

    As he looked about he noticed fog surrounded the islands but did not cover the islands themselves.  â€˜Magic’ he thought to himself, and as he drifted toward the largest of the islands his feelings confirmed what he had surmised. He could see a massive black citadel, that was his destination. The stink of dark magic was almost overwhelming as Hektar landed just inside the walls surrounding the citadel.  Wards prevented him from entering the citadel, even in his vision, so Hektar would need to make a concentrated effort to puncture them.  

    Luck would have it though that Hektars teacher had served the Horde as a warlock during the first and second wars and so knew a thing or two about the security they employed. This knowledge he passed on to his apprentices in the hopes it will help to keep the Clans safe from the Burning Legion.

    Having pushed his way through the wards he made his way into the citadel.  As he wandered through its halls he could almost see the dark energies flowing freely.  As he rounded a corner he stopped short, he stood at the entrance to a great hall. Within stood at least five hundred orcs on parade of some sort. Each orc was clad in plate armour and carried a large rectangular shield.  A small retinue could be seen walking through their ranks, at its head was a large orc dressed in some of the finest plate armour Hektar had ever seen.  The orc inspect each warrior in turn, nodded his approval and then moved on.  

    Awed as he was by this display Hektar still felt as though he were being drawn on and so he continued, crossing the hall and entering a staircase on the other side.  He followed the curve of the staircase up a dozen levels until he came out on the roof of the citadel. Before his eyes he saw a circle of orcish warlocks chanting in unison, and at its center with his back to Hektar stood another warlock, obviously leading the ritual. Dark magics were obviously not his only sins though, sloth and gluttony seemed high on his list as he was easily the fattest orc Hektar had ever seen.

  Hektar inched his way closer and closer, his caution giving way to curiosity.

    “Stop right there!â€

[Hektar]

 PART 2

[Hektar]

PART 3

[Kaean]

(( Good read, awaiting more! ))