Chronicles: Warrior Training

[Chocoa]

The Battlemaster rubbed his calloused hand across the leather hilt of his finely sharpened blade. Years of war, skirmishes, and minor conflicts at the Crossroad of the Barrens have left his body hardened and instinct keen. The corded muscles of his forearms tensed out of reflex when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He need not turn around to recognize the gait. Heavy step, swift gait, leather scabbard rhythimically hitting chained leggings.

"Greetings Isih, nice of you to join us." stated the Battlemaster.

"Im... im... sorry Gre... I mean SIR!." stammered Isih, a wisp of an Orc compared to the Battlemaster.

"Unexcusable." the Battlemaster nodded at the other soldiers who pulled out wooded weapons who pounced on the young Orc. They had beaten him for over 45 seconds until the Battlemaster grunted, at which point they stopped.

The Battlemaster snarled his lip at the sight of the young Orc's blood, "Stand up... STAND UP."

The young Orc Isih, rose slowly. One hand covered his broken nose, the other held his ribs."

The Battlemaster softened his features, in sympathy he responded, "Oh my, I think the group disciplined you too hard, do you need a healer?"

The young Orc, barely 10 seasons nodded.

The Battlemaster turned and delivered a painful backfist to the Orcs face, "you are weak, no food for the rest of the day" he looked at rest of the soldiers "for any of you."

The other soldiers looked at Isih with contempt. Soldiers was an interesting phrase to describe the group, the oldest being 11 seasons and the youngest being 9 seasons. This was the way of the warrior.

* * * * *

"Hold your weapon tight, but not too tight. Your weapon is a part of you, lose it and you die... have it used against you and you die." the Battlemaster grabbed a wood board, shaped like a sword and approached each of the soldiers one by one.

He approached the first soldier, studied his posture then with one strike of the blade he disarmed the soldier and followed the disarm with a strike to the soldiers throat causing him to fall to the ground gasping for air. "you are dead" the Battlemaster uttered as he approached the second soldier.

Seeing the white of the second soldiers knuckles, he struck mid blade forcing the weapon back. The soldier compensated for the sudden backward force with a step forward allowing the battlemaster to loop the blade downward rendering the guard useless. The battlemaster kicked the soldiers swordhand and brought his own wooded blade down hard upon his forearm. "You have lost your arm and will probably be dead in minutes, if you arent killed outright" the Battlemaster plainly stated.

He approached the third soldier, the young Orc Isih. It had been months since the Battlemaster had first seen Isih and ordered him disciplined by his peers. The young Orc had grown but a fingers length and has only marginally developed muscle growth. The Battlemaster scrutinized the Orcs stance then suddenly rushed him delivering a would be fatal blow had the orc not quickly lifted his guard. The young Orc exposed his midsection which The Battlemaster exploited. He punched the Orc in the stomach, winding him then struck with his sword hitting the warrior on the chest. When the young Orc had fallen to the ground the Battlemaster hit him in the back of the head with his blade and kicked him in the face.

"Pathetic, you are all dead. No food or drink for the rest of the day. If I were allowed to use a real blade I'd have killed you all rather than allow you to join the ranks of the horde." the Battlemaster delivered another vicious kick to the fallen Isih and spat upon him.

* * * * *

The soldiers grunted as a lively game of cards took them away from the monotony of their day. Where there were once boys, now stood great Orcish men. Tall and muscled, some with beards other with great manes of dark hair.

The Battlemaster entered the room, he gazed at the orcs with contempt. Though few seasons had passed and most of the Orcs had grown substantially, physically and mentally, they were still no more than boys. He looked at the table without being noticed. Cards, he stifled back a laugh remembering his own days in training.

No longer wishing to be unseen, he grunted loud. The soldiers all fell into position at the foot of their beds. The Battlemaster walked the length of the room, kicking the table of cards.

He walked to an Orc desperatly trying not to make eye contact. "Why are you still here?" asked the Battlemaster.

"To serve the horde, Battlemaster!" the Orc yelled.

The Battlemaster walked to the next Orc, "Do you like that orc?" the Battlemaster nodded at the previous Orc.

"I like him so long as he holds a blade and stands the line, Battlemaster. If he should lose that blade or step out of the line I would more likely kill him then like him, Battlemaster" the Battlemaster nodded, clearly satisfied.

The Battlemaster walked to the next orc, Isih. Head high, eyes forward. Muscles well developed and the young wisp was quickly approaching a suitable height, as only 13 seasons. "Do you like my pants, Soldier?" Isih looked down to see the Battlemaster's pants. Before his eyes met soldier length, the Battlemaster punched Isih in the stomach and grabbed him by the neck and choked him to within an inch of his life.

The Battlemaster finally released Isih as his eyes began to roll to the back of his head. As Isih fell to his knees, a darkness overcame him. His eyes filled red and he rose from his knees and charged the Battlemaster. The Battlemaster turned and released his weapon as Isih grabbed one of the chairs from the table where the soliders were playing cards only moments before.

Isih raised the chair high and struck down upon the Battlemaster who parried the makeshift weapon with his blade. The Battlemaster attempted to grab an advantage but the Orc continued his assault by punching at the Battlemaster grazing his shoulder, and following through with an underhand swing of the chair. At this point the soldiers were able grab Isih and contain him from attacking the Battlemaster. When the rage within Isih subsided, he fell to his knees.

The Battlemaster looked at the Orc, his face undecypherable. He turned and walked out of the barracks.

* * * * *

"You've all done very well, inclosed in the parchment are your appointed posts. I wish you great honor and battles, never forget your training." the Battlemaster saluted the soldiers and put his closed fist to his chest and yelled "FOR THE HORDE!"

The Battlemaster walked back to his own tent as the soldiers were excused and excitedly ripped open their parchments, some exclaiming in excitement other clearly disappointed. As Isih ripped open the parchment there was nothing written on it. In anger he stormed toward the Battlemaster's tent, pushing aside the flap and entering without asking permission.

Seated at a large, ash table was the Battlemaster, his armor hanging neatly on a shelf. Various weapons lined the walls. Marks of Honor and Valor, awarded for various reasons were plentiful.

"What is the meaning of this?!" spat Isih.

The Battlemaster smiled, for the first time Isih had ever seen. "Greetings to you to, Isih."

Isih was taken aback but was weary, smiling and referring to him by name. "What is the meaning of this??" Isih again asked holding up the blank parchment.

The Battlemaster leaned back in his chair. His muscles visibly relaxed as he spoke, "do you know where the Alterac Valley is?"

Isih has of course hear of the Valley, a place where Horde and Alliance has fought for earth and water. Useless land and frozen water, it appeared as if they fougth for no better reason than to fight. "Of course" he replied.

"You will take a contingent of 8 men of your choice to the Alterac Valley and defend our War General Drek'Thar" the Battlemaster stated plainly.

"This is a great honor Battlemaster, why me?" Isih asked.

"I have paid close attention of your progress and must say that you have matured and grown into a fine warrior..." Grekel, the Battlemaster stated "I could not think of a more suitable candidate for the job."

Grekel stood from his chair and turned his back to Isih, he reached for a weapon from the shelves. He pulled a great two-handed axe from the shelf and had removed some dust from it. "This is Neretzek, a sentient axe. It takes great skill to weild this axe because its bloodthirst can corrupt the mind. Knowing this, be aware that this axe will be a great ally so long as you are able to fight and control its sentient thirst. I wish you luck Isih, great honor will follow you. Return some day and share some of your war storied with me." The Battlemaster turned and walked out of the tent leaving Isih alone with his thoughts.

* * * * *

The snow fell softly upon the Orc. He rubbed his calloused hand over the hilt of his axe. Years of battle in the Alterac Valley, Arathi Basin and the Warsong Gulch have left his body hardened, corded muscles tensed in reflex to footsteps behind him.

"What do we do Commander, we are overrun. The alliance have captured Tower Point and are threatening our mines." stated the soldier.

Isih snarled his lip at the report, "attack tower point from the North take a contingent of forces to strike at their spirit healers in Snowfall... tonight we dine on Alterac Ram!"

Isih grabbed his axe and released it. Neretzek was clearly please, he would be dining tonight. Isih felt a darkness overcome him, a great rage well inside of him. He took off headed North toward Tower point. A warrior charged in his direction. The two warriors raised their blades high in the air, both smiled at each other. One would fall, the other would not... this was the way of the warrior.

[Halamesh]

Awesome!

((I really got to get into writing a bit of my own soon))

[Rhoach]

Veddy noice.

[Bula]

Aye very well done, very good writeing, i need to take some lessons from you guys.

BULA

Ogre Warlord