The WarCraft RPG

[Rayex]

A few rules/guidelines:
Dialogue in bold.
Toughts in italics.
Out of Character comments in the end of the post, marked with a OOC:
If you want to use colors, thats fine, but use colors that are readable!

When it comes to dierolling, I'll be doing most of it.
If your character have an ability, feat, item etc, that I forget in a battle or something, it's probably because I've forgot about it. I will get to know the characters as we play but, I don't know them that well yet so there is a small chance I won't be able to remember every little thing in the beginning.


The Crew:
Ganarsh Stormchaser - Tauren Fighter - Played by Krug
Windrunner Halfhorn - Tauren Scout - Played by Candide
Jultahk Warsinger - Orc Healer - Played by DemonAtheist
Throk Stormbalde - Orc Fighter/Barbarian - Played by taitzu52
Eldin Sunstrider - Half-elf Rogue/Enchanter - Played by Willowhaunt

 

[Rayex]

At the Arena

There is panic as the word spreads through the stables.
"It's going to be housed with us!"
I fought the Legion in the Third War and saw one destroy ten elves!"
"Sari, promise me you'll kill me so I don't have to fight it."
Your fellow gladiators no longer wear the brave and impassive expressions you're used to seeing. Their faces are naked with fear, eyes wide. Gladiators that you've known to look orcs, elves, humans, goblins, even a huge tauren in the face without a flinch are weeping in the corners. They're not afraid of the chance of death in the Arena; it is the certainty they fear. Every other time they've fought, they had a chance. Some fear the demon will be housed with the sentients instead of in the menagerie - in the stables, where you all live under truce and where you can put the fear of death behind you.
Still, the show must go on. The guards, two large troll warriors, come to your cell and summon the next two to fight. Parla, a young goblin roguem and Kilrim, an orc barbarian, stand and exit through the barred gate. They leave, casting sidelong glances at each other.

Left back in the cell you sit; Ganarash the taure fighter, Jultahk the orc healer, Throk the orc barbarian, Windrunner the tauren scout, Eldin the half-elven enchanter, Naith the tauren healer, Jai'nor the high elf wizard and Sari the dwarven tinker.
"If only I've got me picks I'd get us out of here..." Sari mumbles for maybe the twentieth time today.
You all think the same; if you had your equipment you might be able to overpower the guards and escape. You don't though. It was all taken from you when you were captured, and all you're left with is your clothes.
You've been here for a couple of weeks now, but now things are really starting to heaten up. Just a couple of days ago you heard of the Demon. Bloodstone, the head of the Arena, has a Demon in his hands, and it is on its way to the Arena. His greed has driven him to new lenghts at attracting customers, and you are know that you are doomed if put up against this thing!

 

[taitzu52]

A Demon, eh?, Throk thinks to himself. These were the very sort of beast that tore his clan apart, that forced his father to take his family out into the hills. If it weren't for that damned shaman! What was his name again?

Throk sits and ponders his past. His clan was peaceful once, but the younger, greedier shamans had caused trouble in the council hut. Fights broke out, blood was spilled. Not unheard of in an orc tribe. But then, the alters were erected. Sacrifices were made. The old shamans were put to the lance. That was when Throk's father fled.

Uk'tar Stormblade was a strong orc, and a good father. But he was not strong enough to face the coming tide of the demon worshiping hoardes. Both his parents were cut down, and his infant siblings were dashed on the rocks for sport. Throk was just old enough to be a good slave. That was when he was sold to that worm, Bloodstone.

Now he sits and ponders what to do about this fell opponent they must face. "Eh, I have no mind for strategy. All I know is that if one or two of us face this thing alone, we're as good as yesterday's rotten meat. How the blazes are we going to beat this thing in the arena?" He sits and scratches his scabby scalp, festering from the animal fat he puts in his spiked hair. "That is, unless, one of you brilliant boneheads can think of a way to get at him OUT of the arena....."


(OOC- Well, I guess that's my background. And I bet you all thought I was going to slack... )

 

[DemonAtheist]

Jultahk sits with the others, a look of grim determination on his face, his normally prominent brow hardened even more. At first glance, it's unclear whether the Orc has heard the question of the Demon.

He stares intently at Throk's shoulder as his hands tidy up a wound from a previous fight. One of his large and callused hands holds the cut together as his other hand deftly sews it together. He takes his bl00died hands and wipes them on his already red clothing, then dips both of them into a barrel of water. He cups it in his hands, drinks some, then proceeds to apply it to Throk. His shoulder looks better.

As Jultahk begins drying the wound with a rag, he speaks. It does not seem that our race or our world will ever escape the grasp of those foul beasts. Perhaps though, the knowledge that that damned Bl00dstone could control the Demon gives us some hope that we can survive its arrival. By the spirits, there's been d3ath enough already in this arena.

OOC:

Spoiler

the interspersed leet is to get around my computer's word filter..., sorry if it looks juvenile

 

[Krug]

Ganarsh stood in a corner, almost deaf to all this. Seperated from his beloved Tauren Totem, it is almost as if he had lost a piece of himself. He had been smashing himself against the walls, tearing out huge chunks of it,

"We must not wake for death. We must confront it. Demon? Ganarsh will smash demon head! Make Bloodstone bleed all over sands of arena," says Ganarsh. "Me want totem back," he says more quietly. He punches the wall in anger.

 

[Willowhaunt]

Eldin Sunstrider lounges back upon the cleanest pile of hay and debris he could construct, leaning back and intertwining his fingers as his usually amused expression melts into a frown. His dark eyes thin, and his light voice becomes harder, taking on a more serious tone. "I'd rather not fight that thing at all. I was fine with sticking around here for a little while, playing the crowd and taking out the line of muscleheads they send at me, but...I doubt this thing is so simple as to fall to a few of my mind tricks...or any of our weapons, for that matter." He then leans forward, and lowers his voice. "Maybe we should look at the idea of getting out of here...?"

 

[Candide]

Windrunner sits quietly in the cell. No words have passed from his lips in the last several hours. However a blind man could see the turmoil in Windrunner's eyes. I do not know what to do about this "demon". He thinks. I will not run, yet to fight it is to certainly die. Yet, it would be a warrior's death, but a death all the same. Oh Great Mother, what am I to do? If only I could talk to my tribe's shaman Raintalker. If only I had a sign of what to do.

Though quiet even compared to other Tauren, Windrunner speaks. I'm puzzled. We are being led to slaughter, yet how can we flee when we have no weapons of our own to break out of here?

OOC: Windrunner will look around the cell to see if there is anything that could possibly be used as a weapon i.e. wooden boards to poles, anything.

 

[Rayex]

double post.

 

[Rayex]

In the cell

Windrunners search of the cell is no more successful than the last time. The main cell is empty, save for sleeping mats and a shelf built into the wall for holding food. A small side chamber holds a few books, such as "A History of Azeroth", "Great Love Letters of the Elves" and a merchant's logbook (nothing exciting, just detailing his trade with a group of goblins in the Hillsbrad Foothills), a couple of human-sized chairs of poor quality and a couple of musical instruments.

 

[Krug]

Stormchaser looks at what Windrunner has dug up. He looks at the instruments. "Perhaps if we play a tune terrible enough, they will let us leave?" he jests. He looks at the chairs and plans to tear out a leg. "We could overpower the trolls with these?" he says to the others. "This is a downtrodden lot. We must stir them up and inspire them to take up arms against those who make use of us." He turns to the Healer. "Your healing have saved many who would have otherwise perished by the wounds in the arena. They will listen to you." With that, Stormrunner concludes, ready to tear the chair legs and distribute it to the others.

Stormchaser also explores the walls and the grills for weak links that can be taken advantage of.