Bloodscream
07-29-2007, 04:25 PM
Part I: The End is Near the Beginning.
The massive Netherwing Drake hovered fifty feet off the ground. The broad shouldered Fel Orc that sat on it’s back glared down at the peon below. It appeared he had decided he no longer felt like mining the precious crystals his masters demanded. The rider pointed to the crystals and roared, the peon snorted and crossed his arms.
It was one smooth practiced motion. Its fluid grace betrayed that it had been performed a hundred times. In its application the peon realized the error of his ways. He saw it in the way the riders hand fell to his saddlebags and hardly paused before coming back with the steel plated boot gripped firmly. He knew it in the way the wrist curled inwards and the elbow was bent. He winced at the force as he unfolded his arm, snapped his wrist, and let the Booterang fly.
“WAAAAARGGH!! BOOTERANG!” was all the peon could muster before taking the full brunt of it in the face. It stung like hell and he pawed at his head as the vicious aeriel footwear sailed back towards the rider. Firmly intent on not tasting it a second time, the peon grabbed his pick and hurriedly resumed mining.
The rider caught the Booterang, snorted with satisfaction and urged his mount into the sky. He resumed his patrol, catching the occasional peon asleep on the job. Landing at Nethercite deposits to mine some himself, knowing he could turn it in to curry favor with the task masters but secretly searching for something else, eggs.
The Fel orcs were raising Netherwing Drakes to use as mounts for Illidan’s growing armies. This place was their breeding ground, and the Fel Orcs controlled it and the mines below. Sometimes a Netherdrake will find a fissure in a Nethercite vein and deposit its egg there for warmth at other times; they just put them anywhere in this place.
He was sailing through the skies and there, on a floating chunk of rock that hovered nearby he saw the smoking, spiked egg of a Netherwing Drake. He landed quickly casting a nervous gaze about to make sure he was alone. He wrapped the egg in a thick blanket and tucked it in his pack with the others. He looked around again and satisfied no one had seen him, headed off in the direction of their base camp.
He landed and made his way to the central fire where taskmaster Varkule Dragonbreath usually stood. On his way there, he passed by Chief Overseer Mudlump and grinned as he handed the fel orc back his Booterang. He walked to Varkule and handed him the bag of ore he had collected. Varkule smiled and busied himself with examining the cache.
“You do us proud Bloodscream!” Dragonbreath exclaimed weighing the bag in his hands.
Absorbed by the shining ore before him, Varkule didn’t notice the Fel Orc handing Yarzil the goblin mercenary a package. Yarzil felt the warmth of the bundle and nodded.
He would see to it these eggs were smuggled out of this place, away from these hell touched foolish creatures.
“You’re a true hero Bloodscream.” He whispered under his breath.
Bloodscream smiled slightly. He had to admit he enjoyed this assignment. He’d never really thought of himself as the infiltration type but this disguise spell was impressively powerful. Even Skywise looked like a Netherwing Drake. These last few months, he had earned their trust, keeping peons in line, gathering ore and keeping order in the mines below. In that time he figured he had rescued over thirty Netherwing Drake eggs.
The Netherwing Drakes, Children of the Black Brood, steed of the Fel Orcs or so he had thought when he first set foot in Outland.
It seemed so long ago he had stumbled into this adventure, it felt like years. In truth it had barely been three months but it had been a busy three months. It had all started in Shadowmoon when he encountered Mordenai wandering in the southern region.
At first he had been somewhat apprehensive, Bloodscream had never cared much for elves, blood or otherwise but Mordenai had a palpable aura about him. The first thing that had struck him was his obvious concern over the fate of the starving drakelings that flew overhead. Every Blood Elf Bloodscream had ever met had only ever had one concern, themselves. Bloodscream had listened and for just a moment, had seen the creatures in a light other than that of ruthless steeds of the Fel Orcs.
At Mordenai behest he had slain dozens of the saber taloned Rocknails that roamed the area, collecting their carcasses. He had watches with a certain satisfaction as the young dragons landed to feed on the carcasses he offered. He heard them speak but knew not what they said, the creatures it seemed, were keen of mind and capable of speech.
Mordenai had thanked him for his kindness and told him of the drakelings father, Neltharaku flying high among the clouds, urging him to seek the great Wyrm out.
Bloodscream considered the Netherwing’s plight. Could they be slaves of the Fel Orcs as his people had been to the Legion?
Bloodscream had taken Skywise high into the sky among the clouds and there he scoured the skies seeking the great Netherwing Drake. He had found the creature and they had spoken. He only spoke to Bloodscream because he had heard his name from his children. They spoke of slavery and fel magics. They spoke of freedom and justice, of strategy and subterfuge and together high above Shadowmoon, they plotted.
From time to time, Bloodscream chuckled softly to himself.
The massive Netherwing Drake hovered fifty feet off the ground. The broad shouldered Fel Orc that sat on it’s back glared down at the peon below. It appeared he had decided he no longer felt like mining the precious crystals his masters demanded. The rider pointed to the crystals and roared, the peon snorted and crossed his arms.
It was one smooth practiced motion. Its fluid grace betrayed that it had been performed a hundred times. In its application the peon realized the error of his ways. He saw it in the way the riders hand fell to his saddlebags and hardly paused before coming back with the steel plated boot gripped firmly. He knew it in the way the wrist curled inwards and the elbow was bent. He winced at the force as he unfolded his arm, snapped his wrist, and let the Booterang fly.
“WAAAAARGGH!! BOOTERANG!” was all the peon could muster before taking the full brunt of it in the face. It stung like hell and he pawed at his head as the vicious aeriel footwear sailed back towards the rider. Firmly intent on not tasting it a second time, the peon grabbed his pick and hurriedly resumed mining.
The rider caught the Booterang, snorted with satisfaction and urged his mount into the sky. He resumed his patrol, catching the occasional peon asleep on the job. Landing at Nethercite deposits to mine some himself, knowing he could turn it in to curry favor with the task masters but secretly searching for something else, eggs.
The Fel orcs were raising Netherwing Drakes to use as mounts for Illidan’s growing armies. This place was their breeding ground, and the Fel Orcs controlled it and the mines below. Sometimes a Netherdrake will find a fissure in a Nethercite vein and deposit its egg there for warmth at other times; they just put them anywhere in this place.
He was sailing through the skies and there, on a floating chunk of rock that hovered nearby he saw the smoking, spiked egg of a Netherwing Drake. He landed quickly casting a nervous gaze about to make sure he was alone. He wrapped the egg in a thick blanket and tucked it in his pack with the others. He looked around again and satisfied no one had seen him, headed off in the direction of their base camp.
He landed and made his way to the central fire where taskmaster Varkule Dragonbreath usually stood. On his way there, he passed by Chief Overseer Mudlump and grinned as he handed the fel orc back his Booterang. He walked to Varkule and handed him the bag of ore he had collected. Varkule smiled and busied himself with examining the cache.
“You do us proud Bloodscream!” Dragonbreath exclaimed weighing the bag in his hands.
Absorbed by the shining ore before him, Varkule didn’t notice the Fel Orc handing Yarzil the goblin mercenary a package. Yarzil felt the warmth of the bundle and nodded.
He would see to it these eggs were smuggled out of this place, away from these hell touched foolish creatures.
“You’re a true hero Bloodscream.” He whispered under his breath.
Bloodscream smiled slightly. He had to admit he enjoyed this assignment. He’d never really thought of himself as the infiltration type but this disguise spell was impressively powerful. Even Skywise looked like a Netherwing Drake. These last few months, he had earned their trust, keeping peons in line, gathering ore and keeping order in the mines below. In that time he figured he had rescued over thirty Netherwing Drake eggs.
The Netherwing Drakes, Children of the Black Brood, steed of the Fel Orcs or so he had thought when he first set foot in Outland.
It seemed so long ago he had stumbled into this adventure, it felt like years. In truth it had barely been three months but it had been a busy three months. It had all started in Shadowmoon when he encountered Mordenai wandering in the southern region.
At first he had been somewhat apprehensive, Bloodscream had never cared much for elves, blood or otherwise but Mordenai had a palpable aura about him. The first thing that had struck him was his obvious concern over the fate of the starving drakelings that flew overhead. Every Blood Elf Bloodscream had ever met had only ever had one concern, themselves. Bloodscream had listened and for just a moment, had seen the creatures in a light other than that of ruthless steeds of the Fel Orcs.
At Mordenai behest he had slain dozens of the saber taloned Rocknails that roamed the area, collecting their carcasses. He had watches with a certain satisfaction as the young dragons landed to feed on the carcasses he offered. He heard them speak but knew not what they said, the creatures it seemed, were keen of mind and capable of speech.
Mordenai had thanked him for his kindness and told him of the drakelings father, Neltharaku flying high among the clouds, urging him to seek the great Wyrm out.
Bloodscream considered the Netherwing’s plight. Could they be slaves of the Fel Orcs as his people had been to the Legion?
Bloodscream had taken Skywise high into the sky among the clouds and there he scoured the skies seeking the great Netherwing Drake. He had found the creature and they had spoken. He only spoke to Bloodscream because he had heard his name from his children. They spoke of slavery and fel magics. They spoke of freedom and justice, of strategy and subterfuge and together high above Shadowmoon, they plotted.
From time to time, Bloodscream chuckled softly to himself.