Musings of a Forgemaster

Throughout his life, Skormosh has had many thoughts that stick with him. Some of his finer examples were kept in a private journal. Who are you, how did you find this!?

[the-warmaster]

Never settle for what you have, if it does not bring you peace and happiness. There can be confusion on what it means to be satisfied, for we often mistake comfort and familiarity for happiness. They are confusing tales, the lives we live, for none of our stories are exactly the same. At some point, a new chapter MUST begin, or we risk the author and readers alike, losing interest. Tread carefully though, don’t change for the sake of change, and do it for no one else than yourself. Conformity is the enemy of creativity..walk tall my friends, allies are around you!

JOURNAL ENTRY #16

We find our Warmaster back at the damp, having given way in his hunt for Kelaniron. An all-to-familiar story in his life, and he acted upon sheer instinct when his decision was made to purge the corruption. It would have been a bandage solution at best, in hindsight.

“Creatures of passion, we all are. I am no exception to acting upon gut instinct, but I have recently found the value in wisdom. Sure, it is fun to behave chaotically, but there are times and places for such things. The battlefield must be kept separate from our homes, so to speak, and I let this endeavor tread too closely.”

“Others sense it, but only a couple are brave enough, or perhaps true enough, to bring my actions to the forefront of my attention. I know myself well enough, it’s true, but oftentimes I found it valuable to have a third party assess our views.”

“I see the humor in me, speaking on stubborn attributes, but alas here we are. STUBBORN AS AN ORC, that is a common phrase, and there is no doubt there. What the others do not seem to realize, is that the only thing more deadly, more terrifying, than an Orc bent in chaos and war, is one that has newfound intelligence. Sharp wit and sharper blades, vast wisdom engraved upon vast hammers, that’s is the way now.”

“There is also the matter of what just transpired. Another clue, or key to the locked door that is my past. It turns out, that the weapon I have turned myself into, is far deadlier than I anticipated.”

“Elements, family, power, clan, Mok'nathal, all these words are suddenly thrust upon me, and I must continue to seek answers.”

“Side note, I must start exercising, now that dear Vyvienne insists on practicing her baking prowess. I feel a bit on the sluggish side. It’s not my fault..”

[the-warmaster]

When you are almost out, almost free, the very things you try and escape lash out one last time, in an effort to subdue you. If you show strength, you will be free of that bondage in a final act of triumph, but if you should falter, your fall will be deeper than that of the pit you crawled from, and your ascent will be less forgiving.

Voices will crawl from the deep recesses of your mind, dragging thoughts of fleeting happiness and joy, while at the same time attempting to blind you of the pain it caused. These are not prophetic ramblings, these are the battles ,even the most fierce of will, will endure.

_______________________________________________

A crack of thunder wakens Skormosh within his room at The Damp. Breathing heavily, beaded with sweat, and brandishing a blade he stored beneath his pillow to an unseen enemy. He looked around and saw nothing but barely lit embers within his hearth, and he took a slow, deep breath, and sheathed the blade back where he claimed it. Rubbing the brief sleep from his eyes, he sat up and moved his feet to the floor.

“Steel yourself..” he murmured. He stood heavily, groaning slightly, and moved to the window. It was barely dawn, and the morning sun was cloaked in dread. A few days had passed since Vyvienne attempted to reach out, but he ignored her request, for at the time he was of singular purpose. His eyes dropped, not focusing on anything in particular as his inner monologue began.

“What are you doing Skormosh? You are once again letting your mind get distracted. Focus..” he moved from the window to the hearth, and tossed another log onto the fire. As he prodded the coals beneath, he thought deeply.

“You are confusing obligation with hatred. You are corrupting your purpose with your own definition of protection.” He stood as the log caught fire and sat into his large, throne-like chair. “Are you stuck? Are you trying to protect those under your care, are you attempting to save them from an unworthy death? Or, are you attempting to seek vengeance on the very thing that happened to you not long ago?”

At this point, the large Orc rested his elbows on his knees and sighed. In truth, he was captive of an Old God sliver when he first came to the sanctum, but he was not shunned because of it. He was welcomed, and allowed to fight his war within on his own terms. “I have been an impatient fool..” he said to the flames.

He stood at once and donned a simple vested shirt and pants, and made his way from his room, letting the flames talk to themselves, as he always did. Where he was heading, he did not know, but he had to find answers. With his weapons left behind, his mind was now his greatest tool, and he had to fulfill his purpose.

[the-warmaster]

When we decide to take a moment to ourselves, is when duty calls. Thus, it will often seem that we never have that personal time, for it is always forgone. It is important to remember, that while many may rely on us, we cannot help them if we falter.

It is no different for Skormosh, for when he decided to seek knowledge of his past, a foul treachery calls his keen skills.

JOURNAL ENTRY #15

Skormosh, the Warmaster, The ForgeMaster…The breaker, has once again found his way to Silvermoon, knowing that his quarry would be wise to seek familiar ground. Heavy boot falls abound in the paved roads as steel meets stone, his eyes glancing from both familiar face to shadowed visage.

Taking a pause, we find him at The Wayfarers Rest.

“He is crafty, I will give him that, and for this reason alone my guard shall not fall. He knows I hunt him, and I only hope he is not being harbored, for there must be no trace left to infect. I admit, I treated his condition casually, thinking it was under control, but now that I see the influence spreading, it must be purged.”

“I am no stranger to what ails him and, and I know that it may be removed, through flame or by great force, or death. That is why I take it upon myself, to find Kelaniron, and subdue him. I am sure The Headmaster would wish for me to show restraint, but I find it difficult to fathom. I hope he does not surrender, as it will make my task much easier.”

He orders a rum and cola as the bartender approaches and glances about the room, catching familiar glints and would nod before returning to his business.

“The hunt is never over it seems, and it shall not be so long as I allow it. Kelaniron, I only have one regret, and that is that I should have stopped this before it spread. In my mind, There is no beating the entity which befouls him, and in the end, all shall be taken. Ill portents indeed..”

Skormosh finished the drink in less than a couple swigs and set the glass down heavily.

“I expect anyone to do the same for me, for being tainted is an unworthy condition. Unbefitting for a warrior to be taken in this way. I will give him a clean, honorable death.”

He stood and placed his menacing helm atop his head and addressed the crowd before he left.

-“Some of you know me, and some of you may only know of rumor or likeness. Hear this, I am looking for one of elven kind, his name is Kelaniron, and is one of the Ebon Blade. Clad in red and black. If you see him, bring word to me, Skormosh, at once. It is imperative that you do not associate, for he is dangerous.”-

He turned to leave and turned his head, his voice ringing out in a heavy, apocalyptic metallic tone. -“And, if you choose to aid him, I will find this out too..”- The large, tank-like orc, heaved his giant axes over his shoulders and continued his search.

(This post is meant to be interactive both here and in-game, to all who frequent Silvermoon! If you feel you’d like to add to the story, feel free to approach Kelaniron or Skormosh in game, or write out a post of your own, tagging me!)(P.s., I have tagged those Skormosh has come in contact with in any respect.)

@faydera @vyvienne @dinthoqaf @zalilirah @chillfos @nahisummerhold @nezzokthecollector @sanguinesorceress

[the-warmaster]

Slave, weapon, outcast…monster. Our beloved Skormosh had heard it all. All the titles bestowed upon him that he did not ask for, and yet the only ones he allowed to define him, were the ones he had earned through hard work and determination.

Warmaster, Forge-master, guardian…friend. Yes, it was these simple values that kept him going through all he has encountered within the sanctum. In truth, Skormosh was very close to discovering the missing piece to his past, and he knew that it was only when he did, that he would be able to find what he was longing for.

JOURNAL ENTRY #14

“Crashing to the earth from a fall hundreds of feet, only to emerge unscathed. This does not happen, and yet here I am, writing about it. I do not know what moved me to leap after Nezzok, to take that jump without knowing if I would live or die. Maybe it was the drive to save him, and putting my personal safety aside. Yes, as rash of a decision as it was, looking back, I would do it again.”

“Maybe I felt I had something to prove to the others. That I am not just a title, and that I truly am everything I appear to be. Orcs have a way of putting themselves and their closest kin through trials of life, so perhaps that is what I was doing.”

“Or, maybe was it that I genuinely do not care for my own well being, and am acting out recklessly to confirm that. I have asked others that do the same, and their stories differ, though one detail remains the same. That they did not have anything tying them to this world, so they would utilize themselves as tools, rather than living beings. The more I hear it, and think on it, the more ridiculous it sounds.”

“Still, imagine the looks I would have gotten if others had witnessed. Fully clad steel plate, like a meteor crashing through to the ground. Standing tall amongst the dust and debris, like a true Orc.”

“I am proud of who I am and what I have become, and so I will now chalk it up to personal boasts of glory and feats of strength. For what is an orc without his tales of grandeur and victory?!”

Skormosh leaned against his bed, sitting in the floor of his room, listening to the rain pattering against the window.

“What is an orc…?”

He sighed heavily and realized he had far too long, put aside his own goals and path.

“I have made my decision. I only hope that the others understand and are supportive. I hope bonds are made stronger, and not cast aside.”

“Though, this means seeking new allies, this means throwing myself to the wolves, and allowing judgement be passed by my kin.”

[the-warmaster]

All at once, there may be times that cause one to reflect. Perhaps on past deeds or choices, or maybe simply a choice not made while the offer was there. It never hurts to think back, but no good ever comes from dwelling on things that could have been. Not even our massive Mag’Har is free of these thoughts.

JOURNAL ENTRY #13

High above the ground, his bike stowed in the cargo hold, Skormosh finds himself sitting on the deck of a massive airship, heading towards familiar ground once more. He peers down and wonders how many thoughts he could perceive before he came to that sudden stop. Not a dark thought mind you, but simple curiosity.

“There are times when I question what could have been. As I sit here looking down, the clouds passing underneath, and the brisk air wafting through my hair, it brings a level of clarity that only death can match.”

“What would have happened if the timelines were never disturbed? What could have been, had I lived the life every orc dreams. Knowing kin, a home, a family..? Such things are not beyond me, and yet is it truly responsible to yearn for it?”

“There are moments that I wonder what would happen should I step away. The Headmaster mentioned that the Sanguine would be stripped away, and all memories gained whilst influenced, would gradually fade until you are left with what you were the moment before partaking.”

“Is it worth it? To begin all over at that very moment before you chose a new path, as if to awaken from a great slumber. Personally, I know I would be no better off. I would still be alone, but with no path.”

“What’s more, to lose memories of all those I have grown to know. To never know The Headmaster and his clever quips, to not have witnessed Varethuun and his abilities, to have gone without meeting Vyvienne, and know grace within chaos.”

“Chilfos, Aethas, Ryo, Nezzok, Zali, and even some of the new bloods I see coming into their own. These are faces and potential bonds and memories I would die to protect.”

“I sound like my father. Always the wise chieftain, reminiscing about the past and thinking about the future. I miss them…”

Skormosh sighed and let the chilled air fill his nostrils. He looked to the setting sun, an omen of good will, that another day was gifted to them all.

“I don’t know how the others deal with me. I am two sides of a very blunt instrument. Chaotic and full of Ill intent, ready to charge into an onslaught should the need arise. And yet, equal parts philosophical, always reflecting and wondering what the meaning of life is.”

He leaned over the edge, slowly letting a tendril of spit leave his lips as he watched it fall all the way down.

“Then there’s that part of me. The mischievous part.”

He chuckled and walked into the cabin.

“I will not trade the memories and relationships for anything, however I do not think I stand alone in wishing some things could be forgotten.”

@dinthoqaf @zalilirah @vyvienne @nezzokthecollector

[the-warmaster]

*Tick* *tick* *tick* *tick*

Audible noise emanating from the motorcycles heated engine components as both it and our Warmaster cool down from an early morning of chaotic intent. He sits beneath a tree deep in Elwynn forest. His helmet hangs from the handlebars, his gauntlets lay upon the seat, and a steady trickle of blood streams from his face and left hand. He laughs heartily and leans against the tree, glancing at the metal bat, and pulling his journal and a cloth from his rucksack. After cleaning up, he nibbles a left over piece of chocolate cake and begins.

JOURNAL ENTRY #12

“You would think that for all the members of the Alliance and Horde have been through, there would be SOME sense of humor developed. Clearly I was mistaken, and the -Kill on sight- order is still an issue.”

“The look on their faces seeing me thundering down their peaceful streets was priceless, and while most turned up there nose in disgust, there were still a decent few that cheered as I daringly sped through Stormwind! Mostly Gnomes and Dwarves, and a few of the fairer races, were among them. It seems this is a good way to root out the like minded ones, and it rarely fails.”

“I didn’t initially intend to cause damage, but the audacity of the city watch caused things to take a turn for the fun bits. To my surprise, one of them spoke Orcish, and was doing his best to belittle me, calling me a savage, a mindless beast, and a terror. I kinda liked that last part. Oh if they only knew I was here not so long ago, frequenting one of their finer brothels.”

“It was then, that a nearby partner in crime came to my aid. A small gnome woman, who seemed to be of an ill gotten repute, tossed me a metal bat, and just screamed at me as I caught it. I may have to change my opinion about Gnomish folk, but this is where the guards got antsy.”

“I was initially unarmed, and less armored than I usually am, but now it was all -Look out, he’s got a weapon!- and -Kill the brute!-. I had to wrap the throttle half way around the clock to dodge the incoming fire, and yet one still caught me in the shoulder. The adrenaline made it a small inconvenience, but now it starts to burn a little. I’m going to get an earful when I return I’m sure. It had always been Dinthoqafs agenda to not draw attention to The Sanctum, but here I was, in the heart of Stormwind. Batting guards off horses and smashing mailboxes with a smile on my face!”

Skormosh chuckled as he continued to write.

“Screams of panic from men and women alike filled the background as I sped through the Cathedral district, but it really got tense as I cruised through Lions Rest. I had to slow down because of all the people sitting and trying to enjoy their morning. More than a few fists were shook at me, and even more weapons brandished, yet among all of that, there were still abundant smiles.”

“Maybe they are not all bad, I should find an opportunity to talk with them without threats or promises of dismemberment.”

The Mag’Har orc looked to his motorcycle and nodded.

“Final thoughts, if more people let loose and looked beyond race, more enjoyment could be squeezed from the world. Then again, share a drink or bed one night, and cave their skulls in another day. It matters little when we are here for such a short time!”

Skormosh placed another piece of cake into his mouth, chewing gleefully as he placed the journal back into his rucksack and strapped it to the empty passenger seat of his bike. Turning it over, putting his helmet and gloves on, the thunderous exhaust notes echoed through the trees, and he rode off.

[the-warmaster]

Silence can be friend or foe, even for the brave. It gives us time to think, and our minds can be our greatest weapon, or our fiercest enemy. It is why we crave distraction, it is how hard work becomes the joy, and how hobbies become dull. An over worked mind is subject to the simplest deviance in direction, and it is within those moments, we have to be extra careful.

JOURNAL ENTRY #11

“What does it mean to want something? I’ve often wondered as I sit here alone in The Forge for hours at a time. On the surface, I know I protrude the air of contempt, but there are times where it is like going through the motions. Rudimentary items dull the mind, while at the same time a true work of art will not allow me to pull my attention away for even a second.”

“I find that it is within creating these unique gifts for others, is where my soul alights, or perhaps it is the giving of such things that stoke the flames.”

“Here I am, the largest and, if I say so myself, the most unapproachable one of these lot, and I am stuck in sentiment. I once heard that sentiment breeds weakness, but I will not put stock in that extreme. No, I feel that if you truly care for and about something, then it unlocks a special ability within all of us to drive harder and make choices that are difficult.”

“This brings a question that I may ask others, but for now it is open. If there was something you wanted, something you felt could be the key to the next chapter of your life, but it came with giving up something you’ve grown to enjoy, is it worth the sacrifice? Is it worth leaving behind what could have been at one time, your saving grace, and moving on with a hope and a dream?”

“I know not where these thoughts emerge, I am not even sure if an orc as myself is capable of these thoughts, but here they are, laid bare.”

Skormosh propped his feet up on his hearth and leaned back in his large chair of his quarters. Taking a long drink of his customary Rum and Cola, he sighed in relaxation and acknowledgement.

“The others are out socializing tonight, and while I enjoy their company, sometimes I still feel out of place, still feel like there is a piece of the puzzle missing. Like perhaps it is easier that I remain here until someone calls for me.”

“It is…difficult to express here on paper, because sometimes words are not enough.”

Our large Mag’Har sets his journal down and gives a soft smile as he stares into the flames. He is happy, for all those thoughts.

[the-warmaster]

When we encounter something that truly catches us off our guard, even the most stoic can be at a loss for words. Skormosh found himself amongst allies, and he discovered that when in a group, even his vast presence did little to deter the shenanigans.

JOURNAL ENTRY #10

“As I sit here amongst allies, reeling over what was occurring not moments ago, it is clear to me that I might actually consider these misfits friends. Typically, I am a presence not easily approached, and even less so one who is not easily joked with. However I was sorely mistaken.”

“Kept to myself mostly, but all it takes is an ember amongst the weeds to start an inferno. Anywho, I can’t readily recall the woman’s name, although she literally JUST walked away. I suppose that really gauges my curiosity at the moment, but it gives rise to a bigger question within myself. Are there really others out there that are so brash as to approach a war machine without fear?”

“There are few that can withstand a bout with me, and even fewer can claim a match, but it makes me wonder if the elves have a sense of humor, or if I was part of some cruel joke.”

“Regardless, that would be considered ill intent and would result in my banishment from Silvermoon again. It would not be the first time I have painted the city walls with another’s life essence. I’m getting ahead of myself..”

“Some clarity I suppose for my future self. A woman clad in red approached our group, consisting of Myself, The Defiler, Lady Bloodcrest, Sinvira, and Faydera. Normally I stand resolute and let Dinthoqaf handle the delicate matters of communication, but this woman did not hesitate to single me out. Naturally I took this as an act of aggression and put my helm back on. To be fair it wouldn’t be the first time someone used this tactic to gain an edge!”

“Off track again..the others think it funny to poke the bear. I can handle the ribbing, even if others cannot. After a bit the woman made her way off, after being relentlessly assaulted with questions and comments, it’s hard to tell if it was interest or a scheme. I am not so easily made vulnerable, no those lessons have been learned. It will take more than a pretty face to conquer this Warmaster! Still, it was kinda nice being the center of attention for more than my ability to kill and obliterate. Even though we have all been burned before, that still doesn’t stop us from reluctantly stoking the fires. Of course, the other side of that would be the same as sticking a fork in a socket and expecting it not to hurt..”

“I digress, but it seems that the others take join at other’s expense. Great and fine, it is what we are encouraged to do, however they will not see my retaliation coming, and the thought of it warms this cold heart of mine. I wonder who is going to make their way to me first..”

@dinthoqaf @zalilirah @faydera

[the-warmaster]

It’s been some time…days, weeks, he did not know. Not much has changed for our Warmaster, and that bodes ill. He finds himself back at his forge, toiling away on personal projects and orders alike. What could the day unravel?

JOURNAL ENTRY #9

Skormosh wipes his brow of sweat and soot as he leans back against the anvil, the subtle orange glow of the coals as they seemingly breathed along with him. He places the unfinished blade deep within and turns to take a drink of his personal flask. Wiping his mouth, he digs out his journal once more.

“Relatively uneventful here. Some new faces are within The Sanctum, and the old are still about. Some returning from absences as well. I hear them all speaking from time to time. Usually subtle tones braces against cold stones when business is at hand with The Defiler. There are, of course, other times where laughter and joy can be heard.”

Skorm looks around and sees rain slowly begin to fall outside his window. The seldom patter of droplets hitting the glass.

“It’s rather odd, that the sound of joy can be found here, but then again, it is not surprising. Even the darkest and devilish amongst us have cracked a smile or two when with the right company. I myself find joy and pleasure when working and killing alike. Not that I’d ever outright say it, but the more unique and gruesome the kill, the better. The same could be said for my creations here. Within each one, lies a hidden property, something that makes it truly stand out. It is up to the welder to ask or discover on their own, though.”

Standing, journal in hand, he walks over to the forge for a moment, eyeing the blade as it glowed white hot.

“The flames also bring a sense of peace to an otherwise chaotic mind. Like most here, I have found my place.”

Walking over now to his trophy rack, he eyes over his memories. One by one they brought a smile to his face. A stein of teeth from Orcish foes long since slain, a few skulls here and there. One day, they would make a nice throne. He chuckled a little at the half crushed helm that used to belong to a loud mouthed guard in Silvermoon. This was long ago…ahem.

“Almost done here, I should probably pay a visit to the others, perhaps visit the outside world again. I dare say I know where my first stop will be.”

“All in all, I suppose not all my entries are exciting, and that’s ok. Nothing wrong with a little peace!”

As he tossed the journal aside, the fire elemental that resided into the forge rose up and flickered for a moment before speaking to Skormosh.

“You dense idiot, do you realize what your New Bloods have done!? They have meddled with the Ethereal plane, and have woken something truly despicable. I suppose you weren’t aware of this?”

The forgmaster’s serenity slowly faded with a sigh as he hefted a large hammer over his shoulder, like it was a commonplace to rescue those entrusted to The sanctum.”

“What is it now?” He asked. “More Undermine squabbles? Did someone cast a wrong spell and turn her husband into a gnome again?” He chuckled as he donned his monstrous plate armor one piece at a time. As he neared the door, the spirit spoke again.

“Try again, imbecile. They have caused the Darkfuse to retaliate with a creature that has been set loose.”

Skormosh shrugged. “Matters not, they all die the same. Pleading and bleeding out.”

“Well perhaps this one’s fury will prove a match. After all, I know your history with augmented and bioengineered creatures!”

The elemental faded with a cackle and Skormosh deadpanned.

“Shit…”

[the-warmaster]

Do you ever feel yourself returning to familiarity after being away? Skormosh wondered if this would be a trend, and were it not for the obvious nature of his cohorts, he would think there some madness at work here. Speaking of, The Warmaster had been summoned back to Silvermoon for some, more professional business. As free spirited and independent as he acted, a request from The Defiler was always heeded.

Journal Entry #8

“I wonder if I will ever be able to share these events with more than just pages… At times I feel disconnected, but other times I know my presence is welcomed, if not expected. I went to a story circle in Mulgore, sat with a cheerful tribe as they shared tales around a great fire. It felt..natural, as if this was the way things were meant to be. Leaving the cities, traveling to more rural places and enjoying time with friends, family, loved ones. Also my armor was sticky from these little things called Smores. I made a mess..”

“I saw the Conclaves ambassador there, and she made a point to wave at me, and in politeness I acknowledged. There was no one else I knew, but I enjoyed the peace all the same. Oh, there was also a Tauren bard, go figure, but his song spoke of winters and companionship, how they both shared similarities. Interesting.”

“Unsure if sentimentality suits one such as me, or if I can even afford such things. Regardless, I received word from The Headmaster, and off to business I go.”

“Met with Sanctum members within Silvermoon City. There were plenty of familiar faces, aside from two I did not recognize. Two more elves (it seems I was born the wrong race..), but one was Ren’Dorei. Pretty sure I heard Mae as a name but who knows. Curios.”

“Her business was with The Headmaster, and so I kept to my duties of security, both myself and Aethas, The only one still within my ranks. I do not mind the softer ones, but it was nice to have more muscle around to talk shop with. As I was leaving I saw Nahi, and offered a wave. We only met a couple times before, but still, honey and vinegar.”

“My intimidating presence would typically be enough to keep any thoughts of foul play at bay, but the two strangers were gutsy. The man seemed too familiar, and more than a few times my hands went to my weapons, but nothing further. And the woman, just waltzed up and gave me flowers. There was a mixture of confusion and complacency here, and my guard dropped for but a moment. I will have to watch these two..”

“On another note, Aethas and I will be dodging P.E.T.A. for a bit, as we had a friendly competition out in Eversong. I mean what? Who did that?”

“Vyvienne, Varethuun, and Lady Bloodcrest were there as well, all in all it was productive, I guess. Always enjoy speaking with them. Can’t get Zali or Vyvienne to talk, and usually can’t stop Varethuun. Still, they are all welcome friends. Hmm, this entry isn’t as entertaining…”

Some time later…

“Well I have community service now. I’ll keep this from the others, but I painted one of the statues in the City. I really must not let my notions get the best of me. Still, I thought it was funny to paint it purple, and so did the Goblin who provided the paint and lookout. I love this city…”

@nahisummerhold @vyvienne @dinthoqaf @laceandhalos @zalilirah

[the-warmaster]

Our Warmaster is feeling tired, sluggish, unknown as to why, but he trudges on, in search for something. Having left Silvermoon in his wake, he made his way back, however slowly, to Orgrimmar. Not expecting to find any faces here, he stepped into the Wyverns Tail for what this city passed for a drink. He moved aside and leaned against the far wall, watching the patrons come and go, listening to conversations about war, valor, and how tired people were of other people standing around. “How ironic” he thought, as he tipped the troll behind the bar, and made his way outside, walking to the small pond that was across the valley. It was there that he was joined by a somewhat familiar face, it was Azuldai, the Orc arena fighter he had met once or twice in passing. They shared a few encouraging words, caught up a bit, and then she left Skormosh with a more determined fervor about him.

JOURNAL ENTRY #7

“Silvermoon was fun, unsure when I’ll be allowed back, the guard SEEMED serious, but he was laughing when I left so, who knows. Never did find out who -R- was, but I suppose that is the nature of such things. It’s funny, no matter how much fun I find, no matter how much trouble I get into, it always feels empty. Almost like I am compensating for something missing.”

“Mental note, if that troll of a bartender does not change his drink selection that I’m almost positive have been the same batch for 30 years, I am going to inquire how good his insurance is.”

“Azuldai found me, was not expecting that, but oftentimes the largest realizations are the ones we don’t search for. She is a proud warrior, and a devout Mag’Har spiritually and mentally. We spoke briefly about her triumphs, and her battle scars, and yet I did not find the same passion for my own accomplishments. When I mentioned as such, she punched me in the arm. Should have seen that coming.”

“She often calls me a clanless mongrel, but there is a teasing tone where I don’t get upset. Still, she is right…”

“I still do not know exactly which clan I hail from, as my memory seems to come in waves, when jarred by emotion or events. I spoke of what bits and pieces I had, and she seems to think that I could be Warsong. It is a good place to start..”

“-Valor, blood, and honor, are meaningless if you do not have a clan to share your happiness with. It is essential for orcs to form these bonds. Without them, we are no better than the rest of the races.-“

“Those were the words I clung to, and she was right. I need to find my clan, Some sense of heritage.”

Skormosh sighed, but it was not as heavy as they usually were, it was more hopeful than anything. He cleared his throat and took his own flask out, drinking deep from the contents. Putting it and his journal away, he stared over the water as the setting sun cast orange and yellow lighting across his body. Flames of the world now burn the soul. As the orb of light sunk behind the canyon walls, and the unwashed stars shone overhead, he was reminded of just how important, and at the same time, how insignificant he was. It was freeing..

[the-warmaster]

Mouth dry, head slightly pounding, body sore, what on earth happened to our warrior? Skormosh sat up and rubbed his head, letting his blurred vision come to focus. Taking in his surroundings, he was clearly in Silvermoon, and looking up at the sign, he knew he was outside of The Wayfarer’s Rest. Outside…not inside. Had he passed out on these steps after the ordeal? He heaved himself off the warming pavement and wandered in. Sitting at the bar, the male behind welcomed him as if he was an old friend, but Skormosh knew not his name.

“You caused quite the stir last night! Where is your friend?”

When asked this question, Skorm was dumbfounded..he didn’t remember anything!

“Check your book, you were busy in it before you wandered away.”

Oh no…

JURNAL INTRY #6?

“These people are fun! They brought me to a secret party underground and I’ve been doing drinks all night! These candies are kinda sweet but I feel happy and whoa kinda. The music has taken a turn and it makes my armor vibrate and I can taste colors of these now..”

“They handed me these tiny crystals that glow and if you move them fast enough I can almost write my name! Gotta go, they are asking for me again! Who am I talking to?”

-later entry-

“I’m back! Broke some stuff, made people laugh and scream. Gonna go to a second party with some new friends I made. Said we are taking it to the streets, like a war band!

“The guards are fun to tease, taking their fancy red armor. Gotta watch out for the big sentinels though! Me and this one little elf lady, she seemed to be the shady type, done up in black leather and cloak, though I think I like the look. Something about the goth thing. I’m trailing, we are gonna prank the guards and then get away on my motorcycle.”

“Oh, future me, check your pockets she said!”

— End entry—

“My pockets? What’s in..”

Skormosh looked horrified and then just sighed and drank coffee deeply. The bartender looked at him and chuckled.

“Pants gone?” He asked

“Pants gone.” Skorm replied

As he closed his journal, a scrap of paper fell out. He picked it up and read its contents.

“I had a great time last night, I’ve never had so much fun! We should do this again, also sorry about your bike, I’m sure it’s fixable! -R-

“My bike?” He facepalmed again. “Oh no. Wait, who’s R?!”

[the-warmaster]

Skormosh has been in Silvermoon for a few hours, and already he has seen that it has been becoming busier as of late. No doubt this is good news, it does become tiresome hanging around Orgimmar all the time. He lost sight of the woman who exchanged smiles with him, but he saw some familiar faces nonetheless.

Fellow members of The Sanctum often graces the city streets with their presence, and the acknowledgment and common ground was a welcome idea.

JOURNAL ENTRY #5

“Hmm, this city is much more stunning now that night has fallen. The glow of ambient light emanating from warm windows, the cheerful talk beyond walls from faces unknown, it adds an air of mystery and tranquility here. Odd how such things are craved when you’ve known naught but a life of chaos and war. Or maybe it is more common than I want to believe, and I am justifying how different I am.”

“I saw members of the sanctum a bit ago. The Headmaster, The Defiler as he likes to be called, and Lady Bloodcrest were, as expected, joined arm in arm, but I was pleased to see the others leaving the comfort of their domiciles. Dear Vyvienne, as shy as she claims to be, was coming into her own. She is formidable in her own right, not to mention quite the purveyor of sweet things. Then there’s Mal—Malakor—er the red witch one. Yes she is something of a mystery, but I am sure they prefer it that way. I had not seen others directly, although in time I am aware they will present themselves soon. Of course, that weird beetle could have been Varethuun, no telling with THAT one. I thought I saw another, but it is unclear if they were associated with The Sanctum, or if they were just chatting. I will steal his top hat though..”

“Yes, all in all, friendship and familiarity brings peace, but if one is not careful, it can bring envy. I feel it is important to revel and celebrate in the success of your close companions, because after all, their happiness will bring you happiness, or something philosophical like that.”

“On another note, I have noticed I am being watched and stared at. It is like they have never seen an orc before, or perhaps they are simply impressed with how well dressed I am! Yes that must be it!”

“I have been invited to a dinner party by a random group of Elves. Unsure what the expectation is here. I will report back.”

—Some time later —

“I must have broken two chairs, they should have known better, but the wine was exquisite. Why am I using these words, and why are my fingers tingly? All these questions and yet I care not for answers. The night is young, and there are people to interrog- I mean talk to!”

“Passing note, I over heard idle chatter from a catty group off to the side. It is probably best I stay in unassuming armor whilst here. Also I hear music, I will investigate. Who knows? I might make some new friends!”

[the-warmaster]

When and where did the Warmaster develop a taste for the finer things in life? His palate seems rather refined for an Orc. Care to indulge us with a tale?

A tale you shall have! His is painfully aware that, being an orc, he is often seen as savage. A mindless brute if you will, and hell bent on war. Let’s face it, his size does little to dissuade these accusations, but rather than fold to what is expected, he decided to educate and refine!

Most of his kind are comfortable with their lot in life, but finding it hard to be satisfied, he saw it a challenge and ventured to the grander cities, rather than stay in the dust with his kin.

It was a fateful trip Dalaran where he met a lord and lady who taught him a little etiquette, and it was downhill from there and he developed a want and desire for, shall we say, higher class of indulgence! So you see, it is these characteristics that built the machine of war and love that you see before you. Nothing is simple these days, and he loves the complications he brings!

[the-warmaster]

Our brave warrior has been on the trail for a few days, well maybe more than a few, and has had little time to slow down. Now, he finds himself at the northernmost part of this land mass, walking across the lush green hills and trees of Quel’Thelas, only stopping at Fairbreeze to take in the serenity of it all. Hey, even mighty orcs such as himself need a moment!

JOURNAL ENTRY #4

“So much time has passed since I left the harbor, and yet it feels as if it was mere hours ago. Strange, how some happiness lingers, whilst others are fleeting. I feel, a little melancholy, though I am sure it happens to the best of them. I have passed many faces, all of which had their own stories, their own problems, all trying to find their way in this world.”

“It makes me wonder, however brief, what could have become of the ones whose lives I have taken. I do not dwell on these thoughts, for me and my kind, war is life, almost an inheritance. No matter, war…war never changes.” *eyebrow waggle*

“I hope to find some conversation soon. Being left to one’s vices for too long tends to breed ill intent, and this is not the place to raise hell. After all, I tried to relieve myself behind a tree and was nearly set upon by a trio of hawk striders. Scared the ever living shit out of me! I have dinner now, but it was. It intentional, and the young blonde woman who saw the display was shocked, and then amused as she smiled at me and headed for Silvermoon. At least I think she was young, elves are strange that way. Maybe I’ll head that same direction, I am sure there will be someone to talk to!”

“I plan to travel by land from here on out, and I am lucky a friend of mine left my motorcycle nearby. Yes, this will be a good trip indeed.”

“Oh, minor note here, apparently I have an affinity for the finer things of this world. In more appetites than one…I should really tread carefully here. All their fancy wines, food, atmosphere, women…yes I should tread carefully.”

[the-warmaster]

Heart pounding, hands bloodied, and now in his natural state, Skormosh now sits alone at the harbor, watching the ships as they crest the horizon and come into the port of Stormwind. He swallows hard and pulls a water skin from his ruck, and sighs in exhausted relief.

Pulling the journal from the pack, he takes one last look at the city behind him, and begins to write.

JOURNAL ENTRY #3

“Lesson learned, never trust goblin alchemy. The potion was said to last for twelve hours. Needless to say, I only got four out of it. It wore of during my…my stay at the brothel. No use beating around the bush about it, an Orc has needs after all. The revelation of the transformation went about as you’d expect, but to my surprise, it was only for a moment.”

“I expected to have to lay waste to half of the district in an attempt to escape, but they were quite welcoming and accepting. I suppose they are paid well enough to look away from certain things, although one in particular seemed to take genuine care and interest in me. We spent the night together, laid amongst the stars. Her soft skin against my own battle hardened appearance, like the twilight veil cascading the hewn mountainside, it was truly magnificent. She was quite generous, but I am a giver at heart, and as animalistic as my urges can be, I took great caution with her frail frame. Had someone happened across us, we both would have been put to the sword, were I not already doing so. A little blacksmiths humor.”

“We spoke of many intimate things, her of her family and past life before she took to the void, and I of my clan and my own upbringing. I suppose that is why she understood my quest of understanding, and why this once proud woman of Silvermoon now made her own way as well as she could amongst the alliance.”

Skormosh took a moment and soaked in the dawning breeze off the coast, then continued.

“A shame it had to come to an end, but my time here is growing short, and I am sure she has already forgotten me. Probably for the best, seeing as now I have to dispose of this human that was all too eager to run squealing to the guards. I must say, he was brave, but not smart. Odd how the two never seem to go hand in hand. I wonder if he expected me to be as quick as I was, the look on his face as I removed his vocal cords along with his throat says otherwise. Ah well, I have proven I can be both gentle AND brutal whilst here. New adventures await, and I have a ship to stow away on!”

“Oh, a side note for myself. Look further into carpentry, I managed to fix those stairs and more than a few imperfections whilst I was there. I’m sure the ladies love a handy man.”

[the-warmaster]

As our curios Mag’Har closed in on the gates of the human capitol city, he took pause just beyond the paths bend to reflect on his role here. His hulking form peered from behind a tree, no longer donning his heavy plate, but an attire fit for Draenic society. He felt silly, but he was here to observe and learn, not interact. Pulling two bottles from his ruck, one labeled Noggenfogger, and the other, a potion that would allow him to understand the common tongue beyond the walls.

Downing both without hesitation, he felt his body shift, his bones crack and rearrange, and his height only shrink slightly. His skin, going from the natural brown, to red, an Eredar. “Great…another goblin fiasco.”

Shrugging it off, he moved into the city and took note of what he saw, how he was treated, and what he heard.

JOURNAL ENTRY #2

“I have managed to infiltrate Stormwind, though I feel I would have been better off in my natural form. This..red skin, it is drawing attention from all but the seediest denizens, so perhaps it is not all bad. The so-called cathedral district, it is full of hypocrites. None of these peoples have a clue who walks amongst them, and nearly all are using religion for personal gain. I have seen more honesty from the makers of these alchemical creations.”

“Dwarves..these people I can relate to. Hard working, natural craftsman and masters of forges, and impressive drinkers. I still think Gnomes are weird…”

“I do not see how the Draenei walk with these hooves, I have almost fallen twice, and the stance is so unstable. Off topic, some of the women here are quite beautiful, and as I sit here across from a brothel, more than a few have tried to beckon me forth. I must remind myself I am here to observe and learn. Distractions are not wise here, for I am a wolf amongst sheep.”

“These elven races here, they remind me of the Sin’Dorei across the sea, they are also quite the visage of beauty, as they all are. I really must move away from this establishment!”

“This will be my last entry for the day..they really need to fix the steps to this brothel, they creaked beneath my weight..”