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  • December 29th, 26 ADP

    • The time for mercy is over.

    If the humans won't accept defeat on a foreign battleground, then they'll do so in their own lands. So with the stars still blanketing the sky, I set out from Stonard to Elwnn Forest with a new charge. Today would be the start of a new age and it would break with its morning sun.

    Soon after I patiently knelt above Goldshire village. It was quiet. Very few workers had begun to rustle out of their houses for yet another day of monotous labor. The roosters near the smithy would be quiet for a short while longer. No merchants had filed into the street yet, save one eccentric haggler apparently known as Two-Times based on intelligence from our Forsaken allies. The guards were visably tired; I had scouted the settlement earlier and knew their shift wouldn't change for another hour. Patrols were minimal. The small town was resting tranquilly, for after all, what did they have to fear? War was simply a tale from foreign battlegrounds. Minor thieves and how they'd put supper on the table that night were the most of their concerns. Though the people of Goldshire were not prospering, they felt a calm in their village, days and months passed uneventfully. The villagers went to sleep that night expecting yet another boring but predictable day of farming to come with the morrow. Little did they know that they would wake to bloodshed unlike any they had seen in over thirty years.

    As the morning sun crested the mountain horizon, I descended upon the village. Not a human, man or woman, soldier or civilian, would be left alive.

    The time for mercy was over.
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  • November 22nd, 26 ADP

    • Nefarian has been slain. On this evening the Lord of Blackrock Spire was destroyed and his head impaled in Orgrimmar as a symbol of the only fate which will come of declaring war on the Horde.
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  • November 1st, 26 ADP

    • Chapter II: Warlord - Painting from the Skalds
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  • October 30th, 26 ADP

    • Unsettling is the mood in which I sit here in Stonard. The human prisoner in which I was here to interogate is dead and not of natural causes. He seems to have been poisoned and seemingly by my hand upon the execution of our interogation plan. It all started a week ago. I was approached by two of our undead allies who were in Stonard for supplies to support their scouting mission in Duskwood. They recomended that I use a "truth serum" to support my interogation and offered to mix such a concoction. I agreed and set out for the rare ingredients and returned a week later. The "truth serum" was created and I returned to Stonard to prepare for the interogation. The liquid was disguised as a refreshing drink and given to the human as I started to ask questions. I was suprised by what he had to say. He never spoke of the military operations against the Horde like the undead chemist had suggested, but rather of those very Forsaken. He said we were being deceived by our "allies" and that they were simply using as tools... means-to-an-end. He said that we were unaware of their true intentions. What happened next suprised me even more. He died. He simply grabbed his throat suddenly, gagging and choking up blood, and then he fell dead.

    I believe that the "truth serum" was actually poison. I also believe that these undead allies were not sent to Stonard region to scout, but rather specifically to elimate this human prisoner. They wanted his words silenced, not revealed. Much is still unclear... do they simply desire to unfairly prosper from our alliance or do they secretly wish us harm as well? What is clear though is that not all is what it seems with our Forsaken allies. We tread on dangerous ground here.
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  • October 25, 26 ADP

    • I'm in Desolace once again... If there is ever a place that earns its namesake, it is here. I've returned to this land to collect a component for a truth serum I'm having concocted to aid in my interogation of the human prisoner of Stonard. Seems like a lot of work for a simple human that I much rather torture, but Thrall demanded I tread slowly and delicately with this one. The truth serum was highly recomended as well by a pair of our undead allies in Stonard. So here I am hunting sea giants in order to find one with a tumor they commonly develop, which is apparently a key ingredient to this serum. The hunt has been slow so far, the giants are very rare. I spent some day at Ghosterwalker outpost with an old friend, Takata Steelblade. He's as disciplined and unphased as ever in his servitude here, a trait I admire. I was also hired by a local goblin caravan as a guard for one trip. I'm not fond of the little gremlins but their intelligence and usefulness cannot be denied. I figured I'm roaming across this wasteland anyhow so might as well do it alongside them. Perhaps the oversized imps will serve as a tempting bait for one of these elusive giants...
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  • October 22th, 26 ADP

    • Thrall has asked that I investigate the death of Archmamge Timolain on my way to Stonard to execute another intelligence mission. Timolain was a wizard who was employed by the Scarlet Crusade to craft magical bows and guns but later disapeared from amidst their ranks as they grew overally distrustful and malevolent toward him. Upon receiving advice from a tauren at the Forsaken's Plagueland Bulwark, my investigation concentrated on the outlying region of Hearthglen. I've found numerous clues in a cave to the south-east but I'm left at a dead end in the form of an oddly, unique magical slime.
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  • October 19th, 26 ADP

    • Today I will slay Rakh'likh the Dread Lord. I have anticipated this battle for a long time but his death has been delayed because of my duty to the war front. With my immediate tenure disolved though, he will no longer be safe. I have prepared in a ritualist manner for this hunt. Elixirs which grant me strength against demons have been purchased and one of my High Warlord weapons have been enchanted with demonslaying magic. The very body of a dread lord has been studied under the tutelage of the Demon Hunter known as Loramus. I have put all the right cards in my hand and made sure that every weakness of the Dread Lord has been exploited. I have no doubt that Rakh'likh will die; he will not be a difficult villian to slay, but I've made sure that he will be one of the sweetest. Now all that is left is for him to return to his mountaintop, so I knee here, writing this, and wait...
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  • October 4th, 26 ADP

    • The trek to High Warlord is now complete. I am now a Rank 14 Warrior of the Stormreaver Horde. Thrall has rewarded me with weapons of legendary power, and thanked me for my servitude. He requests my continued presence on the battlefield, though he knew he need not demand it. Such tools of carnage would be wasted, if not used to cleave the scum of the Alliance. He also pointed to a new threat. He wants the head of the Black Dragon Nefarion. Soon enough, the wyrm's skull will be impaled in our great warrior city of Orgrimmar. I have pledged this to him.
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  • October 2nd, 26 ADP

    • Today the Horde and the Og clan have exhibited a level of power not yet seen on the realm of Stormreaver. We unleashed Thunderaan, mighty Prince of Al'akir, former-Elemental Lieutenant of the Old Gods. His minion laughed at our supposed mistake, yet he soon trembled at the sight of our strength. Prince Thunderaan was destroyed, and into the hands of The Horde, and the troll rogue known as Cyrk, came Thunderaan's Windseeker, Thunderfury. Let this be a message to all, minions of the Old Gods and Alliance scum alike - to challenge The Horde is to be crushed below the plated gauntlet of Thrall's Will.
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  • September 18th, 26 ADP

    • The Defilers, a band of Forsaken soldiers pressed with defending the resource war of Arathi, have heralded me as exalted on this day. In honor... or atleast in greedy desire to prosper from my aid, they have awarded me with a pair of magical plate pauldrons. They've seen no use, of which I'm not suprised. These undead may be vicious when the situation arises but they seem to prefer to let others do most of the grunt work.
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  • June 6th, 26 ADP

    • I've arrived at the foot of Alterac Valley this morning. I write this as I kneel beside a fire here at the base camp. Tomorow we set out into the snowy wilderness toward Frostwolf Hold. The air here is tense as orcs and trolls alike wait for morning to come. This is to be a battlefield like we haven't seen before. Every now and then we hear an explosion from dwarven cannons drift down out of the valley. Silence will hang over the camp moments longer as we stair into the dark distance of the night. Some orcs will twitch, others stammer back and forth nervously. Some are unsettled by being on the eve of war, in others their bloodlust is evident. I remain stoic and certain in my pledge to the Warchief. The morrow will bring much bloodshed.
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  • April 20th, 26 ADP

    • Tarren Mill. The poor location of this town in proximity to the orcish war machine is ever so evident as we battle here this morning. Where as Horde reinforcements from across the sea are few and sparse, the Alliance have a steady stream of fodder to throw at us from just across the bay at Ironforge.

    In the early hours of the dawn, the defenders, barely a score strong, made our stand at Tarren Mill. And what a stand it was. In all my days, I've never seen a line held so adamantly. For nearly one hour, our force held off the overwhelming Alliance army. Inch by inch, the Alliance slowly pushed us back from the western road, as the slowly as the rising sun itself. By the end of that first hour, though, we were pushed into the town itself, and the humans made their first attempt on the Deathguard. Our combined charge drove back the raiders.

    But they quickly rallied and pushed forth their march once again. Their force slowly bolstered as the morning passed with reinforcements from the south. Once again, for another hour, the Alliance pushed against our Horde cadre. Our line held strong; to the naked eye, it held sturdy too. But the Alliance were indeed gaining ground once again, ever so slowly. Eventually they reached the town again, but for a second time, we rallied with the Deathguard to drive back the Alliance.

    They would not give up though. Once more they rallied and marched onto Tarren Mill. By now their force was an absolute behemoth, yet ours had only gained two new soldiers onto our original score. It felt hopeless staring out at their mass; though no one spoke it aloud, we knew we all thought it. What chance did we have? In truth, the answer to that question mattered little. Down to an man, we knew we'd rather fight and die, than retreat and live. All we could do is take down as much Alliance filth along with us.

    The humans charged forth against our entrenched iron line once more. In hindsight, I'm left in awe at how solid our line was, and how slowly we were able to reduce their push to. Half an hour passed before we were finally forced back into Tarren Mill, and the Deathguard charged forth yet again. This time though, the guards would not save us. The Alliane mass destroyed them, and they lunged into the town.

    We would not die that easily though. Like a badger, we backed ourselves into the upstairs of the tavern. There, for many minutes, we made our final stand. The walls were aflame with magic and ripped apart by our thrashing axes. The stairway itself became a gauntlet and Alliance fodder came at us to be slaughtered like sheep. With each small wave though, we took more wounds, and eventually deaths. And finally, the mass of the Alliance army swarmed into our last bastion and overwhelmed us. We were defeated.

    Tarren Mill was lost.
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  • April 19th, 26 ADP

    • I decided to concentrate my efforts in the battle ravaged region of Hillsbrad. Once the site of many orc and human conflict during the Second War, the Forsaken army fight a constant war against the Alliance here. It could be said that the Hillsbrad is the very front of the Alliance push towards the north. Certianly their army supports it in much greater effect. Thrall seems to hold only small interest in the land, and I presume that sliver is only the result of his upbringing here. Sylvanus herself though seems to care little for the land though too, as is evident by her lack of support for the war effort. The brunt of the Alliance spear is only held in check my Horde adventurers and conscripts, and a single barracks of Deathguard grunts.

    However, this suits me just fine. For if a Warrior seeks to temper himself, the deeper into the depths of the forge, the better.
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  • April 19th, 26 ADP

    • As the rising sun slowly climbs over the walls of Orgrimmar, the streets of the warrior-city began to stir. For this is not just any other morning, but one of special note to a society such as the Horde. It's very foundation is built upon glory and battle, and now a call echoes through the city. Now in a time of great prosperiety, The Horde flourishes. And thus Thrall declared, "From this day forth, those that seek glory in battle, will recieve glory from the vaults of Orgrimmar. Ride forth now, Champions of Durotar -- Bring Honor to the Horde, and Death to our enemies!"
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  • April 19th, 26 ADP

    • Chapter I: Warrior - Painting from the Skalds
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  • December 3rd, 25 ADP

    • With the abudance of work at the peaceful Sun Rock Retreat complete, the warrior is glad to return to the Barrens. It's somewhat of a suprising feeling, he knows he prefers the scenery of deep forests and high peaks, over empty steppes. But the Barrens are home, the hub of the shared people of the Horde. Stonetalon mountain while certianly no more dangerous, is definitely not his home. The peak is controlled by elves, albiet many less than before his visit. The crag by greedy goblins and deep to the west in the vale by harpies and, truthfully, dig char and thick ashe, and a haunting red horizon. The elements and terrain can be no less forboding than the inhabitants themselves. Many threats have been quelled though, and the warrior also has on his side a sack full of smokey ore from a mine deep in the crag. He grins at the thought of the breastplate he'll help forge, he himself now becoming a very adept smith, now of expert rank. He let's his mind rest with that though, and continues on his trip back to the heart of his people, Orgrimmar. He'll take a rest before heading across the ocean.... to the land of the humans.
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  • December 3rd, 25 ADP

    • Bruised and tired, the warrior arrives back in camp. The guards watch quietly as the fighter visits the blacksmith with his discoveries, and reports to the local hunt chief, more notorious threats of the region are reported dead . He wears new armor, though by it's worn state it's obviously only new to him. His two curved blades remain on his hips, but hang differently... more composed. "The immediate razormane and dwarf threats are at an end. Alliance scum are starting to appear in our lands as well, I left a few elves dead on the road", he reports to the stationed captain, quite proud of his first kills, before moving to converse with the imprisoned boarman. No one attemps to listen, why anyone would cares what the pig has to say. He sees the smith once more and mentions an item of importance he found in his brief infiltration of Razorfen Kraul, and talks about a masterfall breastplate. He wishes the smith goodluck in his new station here and in his upcoming visit with Thrall about his findings. He knows the honorable smith will mention his name, a name he hopes the Warchief will remember from days ago and the troubles in Ragefire. He takes his leave and returns to the inn to collect his belongs, and heads north. Trouble brews in the mountains to the north west.
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  • December 1st, 25 ADP

    • Nothing yet but a young pup, an orc warrior comes of age, and answers the call of war. He walks a certian path, and promises that one day he will bring glory to the Horde. May the fields of war flow red with human blood.
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