World of Warcraft®

The air was stifling deep in the caverns. Or at least it felt so.

The aging orc'ess stripped off her headwear and robes as she paced, throwing them against the far cavern wall. Fiery torches held aloft in iron sconces lit the well worn path she followed. The same path she had always followed when she got into one of her moods.

Light flickered against her bare dark green-gray flesh as she paced deep in thought. Tiny pins of light glistened off beads of perspiration. A latticework of scar tissue across her back, wrapping her arms and legs, zigzagging her torso; all cast strange defining shapes on her flesh as she moved.

Near the entirety of her lean muscular body spoke to a life of hardships and warfare. In truth, her's was an existence hard won.

The pressure was mounting again. She could feel the expectations of all those who would call her leader and master squeezing, like thousands of fingers pressing into her brain. She firmly rubbed her temples as she paced, loosening the long tight braid of thick grayed hair that fell the length of her back.

Dark gray, as she was on the young side of elder age, but gray none the less. A sigil of wisdom and respect to some. A sign of weakness to others.

Then there were the voices to contend with. Voices so loud she could scarcely hear her own thoughts. It was the demon chatter. A side effect of her growing addiction to, and often heedless usage of, the fel.

Her condition had become more dire as the years wore on. She feared even now that she was not the warlock she once had been. A valid enough fear, since she wasn't. Even so she was still a force to contend with and because of her utter ruthlessness she had managed to maintain command in spite oft the various challengers and coup attempts throughout her lifetime.

No small feat that.

But she wouldn't worry about any challenges for now. For now her cultists were content. Not happy, but content, though being content is never a guarantee. She needed to find something for them to do, and fast before their blood lust overflowed and the in fighting began, again.

[ Love this! ]

05/09/2014 05:30 AMPosted by Khromie

[ Love this! ]

[My thanks!]

The fair woman sat at the desk, slouched in the high back wooden chair. Elbows propped on the padded arm rests. Fingers steepled. Her dark hair neatly woven into a bun atop her head revealing the fine olive skin of her long neck and shoulders. She stared with dark eyes at the creation sitting atop her desk.

Draped over a simple wooden mannequin head was a hood. Appearing ordinary enough, it was fashioned of a finely woven linen dyed a deep blood red. The cut of the opening around the face made deliberately deep and the fabric stiffened in a fashion to help keep the wearer's appearance shadowed.

Ringing the head of the hood was an adornment of opaque blood stones. Each had been crudely cut and left dull, then fastened into a series of small dull-gray sockets that circled the head. The facets had been expertly crafted of adamantite and attached to a rather wicked looking crown forged of the same metal. The hood having been expertly woven onto the interior of the crown itself so that they were one piece.

A thick heavy collar forged of the same ore sat atop two wooden pegs which acted as shoulders. The tales of the hood bunched at the shoulder, eventually also connecting to interior of the collar. In the center of the collar, a large scarlet ruby buffed smooth and clear but left unpolished had been enchanted as a locking stone. When locked it became the key to harnessing the magical properties of the enchanted creation. Open, or otherwise break, the lock and the effects of the enchantment diminish rapidly.

It's most notable, and regrettable, design flaw.

The fair woman had adapted the design of an ancient artifact. One which she had come across some time ago.

She'd been able to piece together a set of schematics from crude bits of manuscript gathered over a great deal of time. And now she marveled, sitting at her desk, that this creation ...her creation... was nearing its completion.

The purpose of this magical device, this dark hood, was simple. Enslavement. This particular hood was the master copy. The key. Other simpler hoods would need to be created, one for each blood stone circling the master's crown, and then those hoods would need to be placed upon a subject. They need not be willing, but a willing mind would allow the enchantments to bind unimpeded, thus strengthening the enchantments.

The mind of the subject is dominated completely. The subjects will is bent to the one that dons the master. On some level the mind of an unwilling subject may remain defiant to the hoods dominance and thus aware, but it really didn't matter. Their control would be overridden. On the surface the subject is completely subjugated, acting upon the will and desires of the master without hesitation.

At least.. it was so in theory. She had yet to actually test the power for herself. She would in time, and in truth little had been recorded about 'how' the hood is to actually function. She pondered the wisdom of finding a test subject, lest she be driven mad or worse. The enchantments could feed back and destroy her mind completely.

Better to find a willing ally. Someone she could manipulate unquestionably.

Her first test would be to enslave a few powerful alphas of the surrounding Shadowhide Gnolls.

They would be bent to her will, something she didn't anticipate being very difficult. Gaining entrance to the Tower of Il'Galar had been simple enough once she obtained the ward key. Gnolls were such simple creatures. So primitive and easily influenced. In truth the hoods would merely be a safeguard.

The true test would be to subjugate an unwilling mind. She would need to abduct someone. Someone with a strong will, but without magical aptitude. That test would come in due time.

The woman raise from her seat and strolled to a nearby window, her elegant gold and white gown flowing along with her. She looked out into the woods around the tower. The fading light of day filtered an amber hue through the canopy, contrasted by the encroaching shadows of dusk. Not far from the base of the hill atop which sat the tower, a group of Gnolls prepared camp for the night.

The woman smile serenely, comforted that her schemes were finally coming together. She had gained entry to tower long left abandoned, laying claim uncontested to it and the secrets within she has yet to find. At her feet lay the dogs that would serve her loyally.

Finally, and most importantly, deep within the Redridge Mountains to her north lay a powerful tool, hidden and dormant. She need only convince the old hag to ally with each other, and in short order she too would be wearing a red hood.

In due time, all of Redridge would be hers for the taking.

Roars, hollars, and cries of battle filled the cavernous chamber.

Amidst the twisting depths of the cave system this particularly large chamber was situated nearer to the surface allowing occasional fresh breezes and wind to be trapped. As such this chamber wasn't typically as stifling, except when the majority of cultist orc decided to gather for some sport.

Pit fighting was their usual choice to pass the time.

At the center of the clearing two large brutish orc wrestled each other. Punching, kick, biting, everything goes. Everything except deliberate killing, but that didn't stop the occasional death from beatings or landing wrong from being thrown down.

The rocky corridors twisted and turned, branching at odd and often confusing angles. One such branch lead to an opening near to the high ceiling of this large cavern. Complete with a short stone ledge, it was a perfect location for one to speak over a crowd.

The aging orc'ess, draped in a simple dark purple and black robe befitting her station cinched around the waist, stepped out onto this stone ledge. A cacophony of noise greeted her. She grimaced down at the numerous blackrock orc, all her cultists, circling to form a small arena.

She grimaced at what she saw. These were not orc enjoying a bit of fun. Placing bets on competitions of strength and honor. No. These were bored orc. Blood thirsty and frustrated. Gazing down at the combatants, she could plainly see that each was out for blood. One was going to kill the other.

An old orc sat on a large stone outcropping. A perfect location to be close to the action but still maintain a visual over the group. As the second in command, it felt to him to maintain a semblance of order. Standing lower on the rock in front of the old shaman, a short serious looking goblin worked the crowd.

"Place yeh bets! Tree tah one odds! Make'm or break'm!"

Movement caught her eye and he glanced up, spotting the orc'ess. She glanced back at the old shaman and nodded up at their leader. The old shaman and the orc'ess exchanged a glance and he nodded.

"Bets are closed ya mugs! All bets are off!"

Slapping two thick slats of wood together, the old orc shaman sounded a series of loud cracks. One by one each orc shifted attention to him. The two in the middle stopped fighting for a moment. Almost in unison the group groaned and hurled insults.

The old orc stood. "Pay attention you DOGS!" He pointed up at the orc'ess standing on the ledge above them all. The mood of the crowd shifted, each orc cultist expectant of some better news.

"Hag!" each cried out to her. They echoed each other.

"What news you bring?"

The aging orc'ess knelt at the ledge, looking down on the crowd.

"You maggots hunger?" The orc as one growled and cried out.

"Is it blood you want?" The crowd roared as one, shaking their fists. Pounding their chests.

"Then its BLOOD YOU'LL GET!" The crowd erupted in blood thirsty screams.

The orc'ess dropped herself down from the ledge. She fell a good distance but landed solid on her feet. The crowd of orc cleared around her as she made her way to the center of the ring.

"The dark ones have spoken! They call for Gnoll blood to be spilt and Gnoll flesh to be burnt." She pointed around the circle. "Hone your blades and make ready. Tonight we RAID!" The crowd erupted again. "Tonight we feast on Gnoll flesh!"

In unison each orc pounded their chest with a fist.

The orc'ess stripped off her robes, pitching them aside. She stood before them, their leader fierce and lean with naught but a simple cloth wrapping her hips. She peered at the two combatants. Deep blood-red eyes burning. Her gesture understood by all.

Tonight they would raid. They would spill blood and gorge on their enemy until they were drunk and satisfied. Thus the dark ones would also be satisfied and each would be granted power according to the blood of their feast. None of it could begin however, without first anointing the raid with a blood sacrifice of one of their own. Such were the rituals of the cult.

She, the orc'ess, the hag, would also make a show of her own power. Here and now she would display her strength and will to lead, resecuring her rite for a long while.

Both orc combatants glanced at each other, then at her. They roared a cry for battle and blood, then as one they charged the hag.

The goblin yelled as the fight started. "Place yeh bets!..."

The gnolls of the valley outnumbered the clan of blackrock orc nearly five to one. The animal-men fought hard and fierce, but they were not ready. Caught unaware at twilight's dusk the blackrock descended from their mountain stronghold in the north and swept through the first few encampments of gnoll. They moves swiftly and in relative silence until the cry of dying gnolls sounded their invasion.

The battle raged in stages. As the blackrock put one large group to the sword another group of gnoll attempted to maneuver for an advantage. Some managed to flank, but the green skins were far too fierce, far too bloodthirsty, and far too wily for any gnoll.

Talented sorcerers, conjurers, and warlocks hid amongst the main body of brutish warriors. Bolts of shadow consumed their targets. Practiced castings debilitated the stronger of the gnoll while waves of fel conjured fire ignited campsites along with the unfortunate inhabitants. Scouting parties swept swiftly in all directions cutting bloody swaths and sewing mass confusion.

The hag lead from the front as she always did. Her green flesh bared naked to her enemies with naught but a dark cloth wrapping her hips and cloaked in a dark aura of fear and horror. Her glare burned fle green and her touch desiccated flesh. Those few gnolls that didn't run or cringe fear stricken attacked. Some clawed at her tore her flesh but these wilted straight away. She breathed and the air became tainted. Fierce gnolls brandishing cruely fashioned weapons breathed her tainted air and soon collapsed in convulsions.

Pandemonium. Glorious chaos.

The slaughter slowed by mornings' light when finally the hag stood before the tower Il'galar. She stood triumphantly brandishing new wounds that would soon add to the work of scars that mapped her body. Her own fel corrupted blood mixed with that of her enemies, her victims, and her body smoked because of it. The heat of her dark fel shadow magics steamed away the sweat and her eyes still burned fel green.

Her cult stopped beside her at the foot of the hill. The hill upon which stood the tower. Enough blood had been spilt that night that each had been sated, and so they waited patiently with their leader. The whole of them gorged and drunk from the night's battle.

In time the tower's occupant came out and stood before them. She introduced herself as the Witch of the Tower, and she spoke plainly with the hag. The two struck an uneasy alliance then, and she returned to the mountains with her blackrock cultists.

* * * * * * * * * *

Not every gnoll had been slain. Many were left to flee for their lives. These gnolls returned to the valley soon after the orc had gone. The Witch came among them and saw to their well being. She counted them among her own and swore to their care and protection if they served her faithfully and willingly.

Once they had sworn it, the Witch brought to them special collars. One for every mighty warrior among them. Those that wore the enchanted collars were leaders among them. Those interested began training in the dark arts under the watchful eye of the Witch.

Over the following month she remained true to her word, and they loved her for all that she did for them. Vallalor sat high within the tower and smiled to herself. Her gnoll generals were chosen and they were firmly under her control, the magic of their collars seeing to it that their minds were utterly under her influence.

The power of the main hood she had constructed was nearing completion. Only two collars left to fill. One would be given to the gnome upon her return from the blood mage. Given as a gift, the raven-haired gnome would don the ornament without question and then be drawn fully under her influence and control. With the gnome's help and her growing army of gnolls the hag would soon be wearing the final collar. Then her power would be complete.

Lakeshire will burn and the whole of Red Ridge would become hers kingdom.

The fair woman grinned a wicked grin as she lifted the main collar and crown jeweled hood. A rush of power stole her breath as she slipped her head through the collar. Crazed maniacal laughter filled the tower.

The hag stood on the rocky ledge overlooking the circle of orc in the grand cavern. Draped in long robes befitting both a warlock of her talent and a warrior of her station, she folded her arms and glared down at the pair of orc that battled just below. To her side a silent goblin appeared. Her features hidden beneath a deep hood.

"Gar'mak : [Anguish]" The goblin uttered.

"Mixwhiszi." The hag replied. Her tone low and almost a growl. "What is it?"

"I have recovered the item and information you requested."

Below the pair of orc beat each other with bare fists. One finally floored the other ended the match. The hag groaned with disapproval. "It has been over a month."

"Such delicate things always take time, Gar'mak." She explained unapologetically. "I have always delivered, regardless."

Below the crowd parted as several orc pushed a rather large ferocious appearing gnoll into the ring. The other orc beat his chest and roared, declaring his superiority while other drug the fallen orc from the circle. The goblin watched. "Another sacrifice."

The hag spat over the ledge and grunted. "Yes, it seems." She turned her glare down upon the hooded goblin. Her long thick gray tail of braided hair fell to the side like a long snake. "To my chambers. We'll have a look at this collar the Witch is using. You have the notes as well?"

"I have everything you asked, plus a little extra just to be certain."

The hag nodded with a turn. "Good."

The goblin flipped out an envelope between two fingers and held it up to the orc'ess. "I intercepted this letter, on its way to you. The courier... got lost." The hag waved the envelope away as she made her way down the long stone corridor away from the main chamber. The noise of the pit fighting died the deeper she went. The hooded goblin followed at her heel.

"Not an AAMS courier." She growled. "We can't afford to draw their ire. We may have need of their neutrality."

"Couldn't say. No identification, so its doubtful."

"Recite me the letter, Mixwhiszi. I know you had a look at it."

From memory the goblin recited the contents word for word. When she had finished the hag produced a low rumbling chuckle. The temperature of her skin increased as the fel energies stirred within. The sneaky goblin fell back a few paces at feeling the heat she emanated.

"That Blood Elf is a fool. I had half a mind to end his miserable existence."

"Purely on principle I'm sure." The goblin quipped. "What stayed your hand?"

"Greed. I'd thought he'd be of some use, but it appears I was wrong."

"What of the slave he sold you? Word has it he gave you a quite a deal."

The pair finally entered a large chamber and descended stone cut steps. "Hah. She was no deal. A failure. All he sold me was his problems." Reaching a lower level the pair entered another room. These were lit by torches at the door. Inside an orb glowed with a deep green and black swirling energy. Skulls of some sort, possibly human in nature, lined the wall behind this orb. Each had a candle melted to its crown and each candle was lit. Upon the wooden table a circular run glowed faintly with a purple energy.

The hag held out her hand, gesturing for the goblin's loot. "The wretched elf is no longer my problem." The goblin handed over a sack that was heavy with a few items.

"I thought you agreed not to kill her."

"I haven't," she spread out the items over the wooden table. "so my bargain has been upheld. Now, lets take a look at this collar..."