World of Warcraft®

((The previous thread on aethelgyth is now defunct, the character has changed severely from that point, she is essentially a different character))

Aethelgyth sat there, at her usual table in the Wyverns Tail. She was Modas now. She had meaning back in her life. And in her eyes, she had honor again!

She tips back another glass of frog venom brew, grinning widely. She had not fought much since the third war, not since she had lost the power from Mannoroth. From had been honorable and powerful, she had looked up at him, seen his as a model citizen of the horde, but his betrayal was too much. He took the power away from them! Oh how she missed the power of the blood. None were able to stand before the chaos ores then. She felt weak, and useless after that. The blood was power, and Mannoroth was her god. Her god was killed by him leading her clan! With the traitor warchief Thrall beside him.

The first war, the power of the blood was intoxicating, the first strike against human kind, the first time her axe bit into a human. Aethelgyth missed the wars. Wars were honorable, ambushes, murders, and death were all honorable. She was tired of this peace. The new horde was weak! Thrall is a traitor, but now Garrosh was in charge. Perhaps he could do some good.

Aethelgyth slams her axe into the table. "I don't need anything from you!" She yells at a forsaken member of the modas, she has no need for poisons. She preferred to chop her enemies to pieces herself.

She had fought earlier, just a couple days, and she still felt the high of battle. She had defended the horde encampments, urged them to attack back... but the cowards refused. It was no matter, the Modas had plans of their own. She joined them in attacking Darkshire, and that tower. They were routed. Eventually. But it had been a slaughter! She wished for more, her blood fury growing in anticipation of the next battle.

Another glass of frog venom brew is tipped into her mouth.

She had even joined Abominus in his attack on the alliance clinic, and she had hit that paladin Gentyl hard.. she grinned, knowing that that paladin wouldn't soon forget her.

Again, she was routed, against the odds, but she crawled her back back, she would not die there. She would not relent.

She grins, ripping her axe from the table. There will be another battle, and hopefully soon. Her blood fury demanded it, her honor demanded it.

She is Modas, and believes in their honor. The honor of battle, of subterfuge, of open and hidden warfare.

Order through atrocity. Peace through fear. Faith in Modas Il Toralar.

And honor, honor to the old horde and to Modas Il Toralar.

((OOC: wrote on my phone, so proper lettering wasn't available, its a bit of a jumble because she's at the bar drinking, and I was working at the time of the writing, so, yeah! Join in if you want))

'I don't need anything from you!'

The orc woman roared directly at Fernand, who had been sitting serenely in his chair, talking to several other members of the Modas. The scream caught him off guard, causing him to knock a glass off the table. It shattered on the floor, its contents creating quite a mess, adding to the ale-soaked floorboards. Fernand frowned primly. 'Well, that was rather unnecessary. Now I suppose you'd best apologise profusely to the bartender. That is, assuming of course, you Warsong lunatics have any concept of basic etiquette.'

She growls, but slowly walks down to Gravy, tossing him a gold coin, before returning to her table. She didn't need anything from him. But he was a superior within the group, and she liked this group.

She pushes another drink to the undead.

Sometimes she lacked self control. Though, she knew to listen.