pt 47 Descent into villany

I don't think I truly believed it, until I saw it with my own two eyes.

As a young girl I remember stories of the Worgen that stalked the woods of Ashenvale. Once I even saw a dead one that the Sentinels had brought to Astranaar. I was told it was some kind of curse. Never really thought I'd stand so close to one that was alive and angry.

The wind howls as it moves across the grassy valley of Mulgore. The clouds gather and boil overhead in an angry dance, threatening to pour rain on us at any moment. This storm almost seems unnatural, like it heralds an end to the world as we know it.

"Would you care for some more stew my child." Arch Druid Hamuul says as he stirs the contents of the ceramic pot nestled in our wind-whipped campfire.

I shake my head at the old tauren as I continue to stare into the night sky. Above me I hear the creaking of the funeral platform that Hamuul helped me build for poor little Meekha. Her body is wrapped in white linen cloth, giving her a ghostly appearance. She reminds me of my sister, whose buried not far from where I sit.

Lightning flashes overhead and the steady roll of thunder echos across the walls and bluffs of this valley.

"The shamans say that the elements are in turmoil" Hamuul says in but a whisper. "Strange storms, earthquakes... it is all unsettling. Feels like the whole world is out of balance"

"Elder, I don't know what to do anymore." I say with a pout.

He turns and looks at me for a moment, and then smiles. "It is going to rain soon. Maybe you should eat some stew? Yes, thats what you should do, eat stew." He replies as he scoops some of the hearty broth into a wooden bowl and hands it to me. "Sometimes when in sorrow it is best to focus on the little things that are good."

The warm bowl feels good on my hands. I drink from the edge of it, watching the vapor rise from the stew into the cold air.

After a moment I turn to him, as a tear rolls down my cheek. "Hamuul, I am tired of being sad. I feel so alone and scared." I pause as the old tauren places his hand on my shoulder. "Honestly, there was a time that I think I actually loved him... I was drawn to his desperation. Now that I have seen what he really is, I am scared of him. I just want to go back to my home in Darkshore and forget about all of this."

"Charibdys" Hamuul replies "You have done enough for me and the order. After what you have told me it is clear that Calmfury is not the creature we thought he was. I fear that we have loosed a monster on this world, and it is all my fault."

A strong gust of wind hits us hard at the same time that lightning cracks in the clouds above us. Animalistic fear rises in my chest as I jump in startlement. Suddenly, as if on cue, the rain begins to fall.

Hamuul looks at me and seems to pout as rain pelts his fur. He seems like a comical little boy sometimes. Taking joy in the most innane things, and suffering misery like a spoiled child. The mother in me wants to take care of him. But, I know that for all his unusual ways he is as wise as the stars in the night sky.

"Charibdys, I think you should leave this misery behind you and find your way back through the dream. Or perhaps you can help us to find Malfurion. I am going to Darnassus in a few days if you want to accompany me." Hamuul says with a smile and a wink.

"Darnassus?" I reply with an enthusiatic squeal. "why are you going ther....."

Suddenly the night is pierced with the cries of the plainstriders. In the dim light we can see a group of them stampeding across the grass. Then we see him, like a vision from hell, Calmfury emerges from darkness in the shape of a bear. His fur is matted and stained with blood and gore, the steady rhythmn of his heavy breathing sending plumes of hot vapor into the cold air.

"Calmfury my child, it is good to see you again." Hamuul says with a smile as he rises from the ground.

Without saying a word Calmfury shifts out of bear form. He looks even worse as a tauren, smeared with blood as if it was some sort of war paint. He then loosens a makeshift rope from around his shoulders, and flings a torn and battered corpse at our feet. The unrecognizable heap looks as though it had been dragged across Azeroth.

"Why is he here?" he says to me as he looks at me with his permanent hateful glare and motions to Elder Hamuul.

I step backwards in trepidation.

Hamuul steps forward in a confrontational manner. "She asked me to be here Calmfury! I came to pay my respects to the dead." The old bull stands upright, his chest puffed out and his hands balled into fists. Despite his age, he is still an imposing figure.

Calmfury eyes Hamuul for a moment, almost as if he is weighing if he could kill him. He may be able to take the Elder in a fight, but not the both of us, if he's counting on me to stand idly by, or even take his side, he is sorely mistaken.

"Fine! old fool, stay if you like. But, don't get in the way." Calmfury says with a growl as he drags the corpse past us towards the funeral platform.

As he does, I see the mangled and unrecognizable face of the sack of bones twitch and moan.

"It is still alive!!" I shout in horror.

Calmfury tosses the body to the base of the tower and raises his arms to the miserable sky.

"Meekha!! My beloved daughter!!" he shouts in anguish "This body is set at your feet so that you can see my promise fullfilled!!"

"Calmfury!! who is this that you have brought to defile poor Meekha's grave with?" Hamuul snarls in anger.

"It is her father Hamuul" I say in sorrow

The elder looks at me with horror across his face. Meanwhile, Calmfury stands like a statue in the wind and rain. The water drawing droplets of filth and gore down his sides.

Suddenly, he turns and walks past us, grabbing a burning log from the fire, and coldly knocking over the pot of stew.

"It is not our way to burn the dead Calmfury." Hamuul says through gritted teeth. "they must decompose naturally, allowing their bodies..."

"I am not concerned with your idiotic customs Elder!!" Calmfury replies in a low, menacing tone.

"Idiotic customs!! We are your people Calmfury, you were raised on the plains of Mulgore. We love you, you are one of us."

Calmfury turns suddenly, his eyes blazing with hatred. "I am not one of you, I am a child of the night, forged in darkness and despair! Everything good in me died with her, and I will most gladly give every day I have left, every drop of my cursed blood to see that the dogs that did this to her suffer in the worst way imaginable."

Lightning crashes overhead once again as the two stare at each other. The rain pours in long sheets of cold misery. I realize now that there is no going back for any of us. We have touched the face of a nameless feeling, and the world is indeed at it's end... at least for us.

Calmfury turns and tosses the smoldering log on the chest of Meekha's father. As if by some strange magic, the flames begin to rise and dance across his body. Then corpse begins to scream in a horrific, gurgling voice.

"Calmfury, you have just defiled Meekha's grave." Hamuul says as he spits on the ground. "You are right, you are not one of us, and I am ashamed I ever loved you as a son. Leave this land and never return."

His bitter words ring out painfully.

In dejected despair the old tauren turns and walks away into the cold night. Surprisingly I see regret wash across Calmfury's face as he watches him leave. Behind him Goregreedy finally stops thrashing and falls silent as he mercifully dies. The flames from the bonfire that now surrounds him, spread upwards and catch Meekha's funeral tower ablaze.

Without saying a word I turn and follow Hamuul into the night.

As we pass into the dark grassy fields I can hear the anguished cries of that monster behind us. Yet, no pity, remorse, or compassion rises in my heart for him.

"I am coming for you Garrosh Hellscream!! I am coming and you will suffer all the torments of hell at my hand!!" Calmfury screams out into the night.

Lightning crashes overhead once again, almost as if the very world is answering his foolish oath.

My last thought on the subject, before I gave up on misery and walked away, was that I hope Garrosh kills him.

pt 46 A promise fullfilled

I feel numb. My cold, lifeless heart bears no pain or contrition. There are no tears in my eyes. Perhaps the saddest thing in the world is the desire to grieve without the ability.

It is no surprise really. I did not grieve for my wife after I put an axe in her skull. The day after I returned from my captivity with the Lich King, she presented me our baby daughter, that was born in my absence, and when I could not show her affection, Morgilla rejected me. It is wrong to believe that a Death Knight cannot feel emotion. Actually, we feel the emotion of rage quite strongly.

So here I am, on the deck of this flying junkyard the Goblins call a zepplin, watching the darkened hills of Durotar pass below me. The cold wind blowing my dead, grey hair like a somber banner of sadness and misery. The trip to Northrend will be long and cold. The bulging bag of gold at my feet would likely get me killed if my fellow passengers knew of it's existence.

"Hey mon!" a suspicious looking troll strolls up to me in a conniving and seedy manner. "Ey know who ya be mah friend." He smiles at me through his glinting tusks.

"Do ya now?" I respond without looking at him, my grip tightening on my corroded maul.

"Yah mon! Everybody be knowin dah great Goregreedy. Dah best and fairest biznuss mon in all dah city of Orgrimmah. What ya be doin goin ta Warsong hold mah friend?" he replies as he leans on the rail and spits off the side. At his side I see him gripping the handle of a long, jagged dagger.

This could play in my favor. If there is anything that I am good at, besides crushing skulls, it's manipulating idiots.

"Hey, yah look like a strong Troll dats eager tah make a gold er two. Ey might have a job fer ya if yar lookin fer work." I say with an equally seedy smile.

The troll says nothing, he just smiles and shows me the jeweled hilt of his still sheathed blade.

"Ey gots won hundert gold coin if ya keep..."

Suddenly there is a shout of alarm, I turn just in time to see a large brown raven divebomb the deck, then in an instant, in mid air, it fluidly changes shape into a hulking black bear. I don't even have enough time to react before the snarling beast slams into me. Pain rips through my body as his claws and teeth sink into my flesh.

"RRRRAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWRRRRR!!!!!" the raging bear roars as his slobber and my icy blood sprays across the deck.

Suddenly, the bear once again shifts his shape and turns into the massive form of the Tauren claiming to be Calmfury. He lunges forward and clamps his meaty fingers around my throat.

Fear clouds my mind as I stumble backwards against the railing, fumbling clumsily for my maul. He leans on me hard as my throat begins to be crushed in his hands.

"I come to you bringing death!! Your master has forsaken you Goregreedy. You are a murdering, heartless bastard and I will see that you suffer, as my daughter suffered!!"

As I try hard to gasp for breath, I grope desperately for my maul. Behind me I hear the railing groan and crack under our weight. Finally, my hand finds a the leather loop that serves as my lanyard on my hammer. With all of my might I swing the loop hard over my head towards my attacker. As my vision darkens I hear the rewarding thump of something heavy slamming it into the side of the tauren's head. To my relief, he stumbles backwards, releasing my his hold on my neck.

My vision returns as I gasp for breath. Then, to my horror I hear the unmistakable the sounds of coins raining across the deck of the zepplin. Instead of my maul, I grabbed the loop of my backpack full of gold. I watch helplessly as my fellow travelers, the two orc guardsmen, the goblin crewmen, even my troll hireling begin to scramble greedily for the rain of precious coin.

Calmfury once again lunges forward at me, slamming me into the railing. I try hard to beat him back, but he pummels me hard with his bare fists. I am nearly helpless, and no one is cogniscent enough to stop him.

Suddenly, the railing gives way behind me and I tumble backwards over the side of the ship. In desperation I grab and find a dangling rope to stop my fall. Far below me I can see the red rocks of Durotar, shimmering in the silvery light of the moon.

"You bloated sack of filth. You and your kind are not worthy of existence." the Tauren says, standing on the deck above me, as he picks up my maul. "It is my pleasure to send you to hell."

"Yah got ta believe meh!! She ask'd me ta teech 'er to fight. She wunted tah be in da areena!" I scream

"She was an innocent child!! You tried to make her like you!!" he bellows as he lifts the maul high into the air. "Now Goregreedy, your lies will die with you!!"

I watch in slow motion as he swings my corroded, gore encrusted maul downward. In his eyes I see a burning hatred, and in my heart I finally feel a sense of grief. The maul slams into my head, cracking my skull, and shattering my polished tusks. My head swims for an instant, long enough to make me let go of the rope. As I begin my long journey down to the earth I watch as Calmfury leaps off the zepplin, and shifts into a large brown raven.

As I plummet helplessly to my second death, I can't help but think that life has unnecessarily been cruel to me. Of course, for that matter I have been quite merciless to everyone I dealt with, even my wife and child. Even though I am innocent in what I did to her, I am guilty of many other crimes. It's just too bad I can't die on my feet in....

Whump!!
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I'm not sure how long I laid there on that jagged rock next to the seashore. But, I was finally awakened by the feeling of someone tying a rope around my legs. Looking up, I see my own ribs protruding out of my chest, my blood and guts are splattered all around me, and at my feet there stands that dreaded Tauren, tying a makeshift vine around my legs.

"Yoor tyin me up?!?" I say weakly as I once again look into his angry eyes.

He glares at me for a moment before smiling broadly.

"I never thought after that fall you'd still be alive!" he laughs mockingly at me. "I guess being a Deathknight is both a blessing and a curse."

"Ugh!" I choke on foamy blood. "Ya beat meh Calmfury.. just finish meh and be dun wit it"

He smiles broadly at me before turning serious once again. That baleful look of hatred burning in his eyes as he ties the other end of the rope around his own shoulders.

"No way old friend! Time is short, your daughter's funeral awaits, and it's a long run to Mulgore."

Suddenly he shifts forms to a bear, the vine still tied around him. Turning he begins to run and I am cruelly yanked off the rocks with my entrails dragging behind me.

Such is the end of Goregreedy the Merciless, Veteran of the Third war, redeemed servant of the Lich King, and murder of women and children.

pt 45 Allegations of blame

"Form up ye lazy peons!!" Urtok, Sergeant of the Kor'kron guards brings his squad of elite warriors to attention. The scarred and battle hardened veteran of a thousand wars grins proudly to himself through his glistening tusks. His company is the best that the Horde has to offer, and his Warchief knows it.

Before him the sounds of battle and screams of anguish have subsided from within the confines of the Arena. Bloodied survivors still amble forth from the doorway like a macabre parade of gore and carnage. Shell shocked survivors with massive claw marks, and limbs that have been ripped from their bodies. The veteran sergeant has seen it before, there is no doubt in his mind that a demon lord is now waiting for them within the walls of the sacred fighting arena.

"Sargint, whadda ya suppose is in dere?" one of the warriors says with a growl.

Looking back with a toothy grin across his face, the sergent replies with a chuckle "Whuteva it is, we er gonna send it back to da hell eet came frum."

Urtok gazes once more at the ghostly arena before him, and with grim determination on his face he orders his company forward. A wall of green flesh and glinting iron marches up the slope and into the bloody arena, stepping on corpses and entrails as the push their way into the darkness. The Sergeant looks up to the dark, night time sky just in time to see the silhouette of a large bird fly in front of the face of the moon. The crows must be hungry, he thinks to himself, if they are gathering so soon for the feast.

As they enter the vast confines of the colliseum the groans and sobs of the dying rise in a morbid crescendo. Bodies lay strewn about the building like bloody puppets tossed by a careless child.

To their relief, there is no sign of a demon lord, or even who might have carried out this hellish massacre.

"Kor'kron, moov out!! Serch dah buildin. Bring meh any servivers!!" Urtok shouts with authority.

The stalwart band of Orc guardsmen begin to fan out through the arena in almost drilled precision. Their warrior focus and attention drawn like the razors edge of their battle axes.

"Urtok, eet don't smell like ah Doomlord has ben in ere" the corporal of the company says as he sniffs the air like a wolf "All ey smell is dah blood."

"Yar!" Urtok replies "Be on yer guard corporal. Dey is full of tricks"

A warrior shouts from the far end of the arena, startling every one of the guardsmen. "Sergent!! Ey found somewon dat isn't urt er dead!!"

The hulking sergeant strides quicking down the bloody rows of seats, stepping on bodies and entrails as he goes. There in the center of the arena he sees her. A tauren woman stands holding a dead child. Though she seems to be splattered with blood and gore, she is untouched.

"Whut happened ere woman!! Tell meh quickly so dat we can find da monster!!" Urtok barks out to the tauren.

Charibdys raises her head slowly and glares at the Orc with hatred and disgust in her tear filled eyes. "You are the monster." she whispers through bared teeth.

Looking up past the sergeant to the entryway she sees the mighty Warchief Thrall and his assorted advisors enter the building with their weapons at the ready.

"You!!" she shouts as she points to Thrall. "You are the monster! You let this happen. What kind of Warchief allows the children of his people be used in this way!!"

The sergeant springs forward to tackle the hysterical woman. No one speaks to his Warchief in such a fashion. As he does, a massive wave of water seems to come from out of nowhere, knocking Urtok as his guards backwards. The wave washes over the blood soaked benches of the arena, causing a torrent of slippery entrails and bodies to pour back downward like a morbid log jam.

Suddenly Charibdys turns into a large brown crow, and grabs the corpse of the child in her steely talons. As the guardsman rush forward again, she leaps into the air and flies out the open ceiling of the arena.

"What is she talking about?" Thrall says in astonishment.

The bewildered guards and advisors stand in stunned silence, pondering the scene they just witnessed.

"Uh, Warchief..." Eitrigg says cautiously as he looks at his horrified brother. "I think I might be able to shed some light on this."

Thrall looks at his trusted advisor in bewilderment

"Kor'kron!!" Thrall shouts "Close the gates, lock down the city. No one is to leave. Send word to Hamuul, find out who that druid was. Summon my advisors and aids. I want speak to them immediately!!"

Thrall turn to Eitrigg with a growl "You have some explaining, old friend." he says as he turns and strides out of the arena.

Down on the arena floor Urtok looks in disgust at his so called elite guardsmen.

"Move yer tails ya snivling peons!! You heard the warchief!!" he barks.

With determined precision they move out to alert the rest of the city, and carry out Thrall's orders.

"hehe So sarge, dat lady druid did ah numba on you. I nevah saw ya knock'd off yer feet ba'fore. Har har har!" the brutish corporal says with a toothy grin.

The dripping Sergeant turns and glares at his subordinate, before smiling through his glimmering tusks.

"Corp'rol, you find sum peons and git dis mess cleaned up!" he growls and he turns and heads towards the door.

Off in the distance a lonely signal can be heard. It is the sign that the zepplin to Northrend is loaded, and about to depart into the cold night sky.

Pt 44 The Escape

The Tauren brute drops me into my chair at the edge of the arena, and dives headlong into the bloodstained sandy ring below. He claims to be my old friend Calmfury, but looks nothing like him. Meanwhile, the crowd begins to voice their displeasure at the interruption of tonights spectacle, as this Tauren imposter kneels down at the body of my dead daughter. His sobs can be heard over the hissing audience.

I was told by Slasherjoe that Calmfury had died at the hands of Garrosh several months ago. In my own way I mourned my friend, afterall he adopted my daughter from the orphanage and raised her as his own. He kept my secret safe and allowed me to watch her from afar. When Calmfury was killed, Slasherjoe brought Meekha to me and told me the news, I was furious. She should have gone back to the orphanage, but he had already told her who I was. There is no way I would have her growing up to hate me, the wrath of an Orc woman is at best a death sentence.

I don't know if, or even how this imposter can be Calmfury, somehow brought back to life, but I dont intend to stick around to see how this ends. As the crowd pushes to the edge of the arena, I grab my bulging leather bag, and my trusty maul and quickly begin to push my way towards the exit.

I am well known and well liked here by everyone. I have been generous and forgiving of those who have lost bets that they couldn't cover. Out of respect and possibly fear, the spectators part and allow me easy access to the door. My best bet is to get out of Orgrimmar and catch the zepplin to Warsong Hold in Outland. It is near my time to report to Garrosh and to bring him the gold we have made from the arena.

"Charibdys!!!" the imposter in the arena screams above the roar of the enraged audience "Come quickly!!!"

With frenzied determination I finally push my way out of the arena and into the cool evening, there standing before me is Squish and her cronies, as if they are guarding the door.

"Why look what we have here. It's the old disease bag himself. I'm guessing that Calmfury found you?" Squish says with her usual sneer.

I look hard at her as I focus my magic and summon my deathcharger into existence.

"Dat eemposter ees not Calmfury, he died remembah?!?" I growl furiously as I sling my pack over the undead mount.

"Well, you know we can't let you leave so quickly Goregreedy" Squish says "We have to get this little misunderstanding with Calmfury's gruntling squared away."

"Speekin of dat Gore, weere is Meekha? Why are you leavin witout her?" Slasherjoe says as he steps out from behind Squish's mob.

"RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!"

An unearthly and terrifying roar shakes the walls of the massive colliseum and echos across the sandstone walls of the valleys beyond.

Squish and her band suddenly spring to attention, drawing their weapons and preparing to defend against whatever it is that is now rampaging through the inside of the arena.

I waste no time, taking advantage of the distraction, I jump on my deathcharger and spur the beast forward, towards the gates leaving the Valley of Honor. Behind me I can hear the muffled screams of the stampeding crowd, All trying to escape the massive building that has somehow become their tomb.

How is this even possible? For the first time in an age, terror fills my heart. Perhaps that Tauren was Calmfury and he somehow came back to life with the help of a Dreadlord of the Legion. Only a demon of that caliber could make such a horrible howl, drive fear in the hearts of veteran warriors, and slaughter them so easily. I know, I fought the Legion on Mount Hyjal.

My deathcharger pushes relentlessly past the gate and into the drag. As I turn towards the Valley of Strength and the front gates of Orgrimmar, I see the mighty warchief Thrall and his Kor'kron guards coming from Grommash Hold in the Valley of Wisdom. Apparently, they heard the roar and are going to face whatever it is that made it. Good, let them deal with the horror that is tearing up their precious city.

I spur my mount harder as I tear into the Valley of Strength towards the front gate. A growing crowd of the usual rabble that do business in the Auction house begin to swarm past me back towards the arena. No doubt they heard the commotion and want to check it out.

Hot wind and sand assaults my face as I pass through the outer gate and into the majestic desert of Durotar beyond. There outside the walls of Orgrimmar is the zepplin tower. I am fortunate because the massive airship is docked at the moment and loading supplies for its long voyage back to the Borean Tundra to Garrosh's fortress.

At the base of the tower I slide off my deathcharger, and dismiss the ghostly beast. Hoisting the heavy bag of gold over my shoulder, I make the long climb up the tower and stride onto the deck of the goblin zepplin. The little green bastards pay me little notice as I sit down at the edge of the ship and look out across the evening sky of Azeroth. Off in the distance I can see the faint glow of a fire from the center of Orgrimmar.

Soon, it will all be behind me.

Pt 43 Where the beast dwells

The fetid stink of the electrified mob was nearly unbearable. Within the dark confines of the massive arena lurked a press of Orcs, Trolls, Blood elves, and at least a few humans along with a stunted dwarf. All of them carousing, laughing, shouting and cheering at the bloody spectacle in the ring below.

I glance down in the ring and see what appears to be three skinny gnomes swirling and fighting. They look like comical children dressed as gladiators. One even fights with makeshift claws and is dressed as a lion. What a pathetic sight.

My task this night, as I fight to make my way through this bloodthirsty crowd, is to find the Deathknight known as Goregreedy. Squish said he was the one looking after little Meekha, which of course disturbs me greatly, even though he is her father, he has the cold heart of the Deathknight. He would never know how to take care of her or even how to love her. With any luck I can find her and take her to Thunder Bluff. I believe I can get Hamuul to teach her to be a druid. My dream is that she will be the first Orc to join the Order, and that she can fill the place that I cannot.

Through the roaring crowd I finally see him. Goregreedy has turned into a bloated, and disgusting shadow of his former self. He sits at the edge of the area on a throne of sorts. Around him are various servants and slave girls offering him food, drink, and false adoration. It seems that he has somehow gotten quite rich, perhaps betting on this circus they call a gladiatorial arena.

I anxiously press on with a renewed strength of purpose. I am so close to finding my adopted daughter, to see the look on her face when she realizes I am alive. I realize now that all things, even my burning hatred of Garrosh, are unimportant next to the need to find her.

"Aye!! Watch weer yer goin Mon!!" I knock aside a troll who then turns around and douses me with a sour smelling beer. I stare him in the face for a moment before the crowd suddenly explodes in a roaring cheer. We both look down into the arena and watch as the gnome dressed as a lion jumps on top of one of the other gladiators and begins disemboweling him with those nasty makeshift claws. Turning away, I take the opportunity to press forward to the edge of the arena where I can get to Goregreedy.

As I approach, my anger begins to stir, it quickly washes away any fear or apprehension. Without even thinking, I knock aside one of the serving wenches and grab the bloated and disgusting Orc by his stained tunic. His head snaps to look at me, and I see a mixture of fear and anger in his milky, pus filled eyes.

"Where is Meekha!?!" I say through gritted teeth.

He glares at me for a moment. I can smell his rotten breath as he gasps for air.

"Who dah hell do yah tink you are Toureen?!? Git yer filty hands off me!!" he says as I watch his hand reach frantically for his corroded maul sitting nearby.

I strain to lift his festering, bloated body up from his chair and away from his cursed weapon.

"I am Calmfury you puke! I have come back from the dead to get my daughter, and I am told you have her!!"

He stares at me in disbelief before stammering a in response.

"She's mah dawter." he says meekly "Ey am er Fodder."

"We had a deal Goregreedy! I watched over her and you stayed away. You lost the right to call her your child when you killed her mother in cold blood." I hiss

I see in his eyes the full realization that I am indeed Calmfury. We stare at one another for a moment. He will tell me where Meekha is or he will die.

Suddenly, the crowd explodes once again in a cheering roar. Goregeedy turns towards the arena floor and gasps as his mouth falls open in disbelief.

"Meekha!" he says in his phlegm filled voice "I am ruined!!"

I turn to the fight below to see the gnome dressed as a lion impaled on a spear. Over him stands the victor with his hands in the air. He reaches up and yanks off his helmet. Instead of a skinny, wirey gnome I see the face of a starving and scarred Orc child. He roars back at the crowd in triumph.

A voice suddenly booms over the crowd. "Korlong is victorius!! Dah long, bloody reign of dah Lioness of Duratar is over!!" The crowd roars even louder as I see people dancing in the stands. They begin to press towards us with greed in their eyes. "Meekha the Savage is slain!!" the announcer finally says.

My heart begins to pound furiously in my chest as I drop Goregreedy back into his chair and look at the arena below us. Tears well in my eyes, and flow like rivers down my cheeks. The skinny gnome dressed as a lion lays still on the sandy floor with a spear jutting from her chest.

I leap down into the arena, and knock aside the little orc boy still parading around the floor. The crowd suddenly turns and I feel all eyes upon me as I approach her bloody form. Her arms and legs are covered with scars and open wounds. Her delicate green flesh is bruised and battered.

With shaking limbs I kneel next to her and gently remove her helmet. Hoping beyond all hope it is not her. But, with an anguish I have never felt before I look at her face and into her innocent eyes and I see that it is indeed my little Meekha.

"Meekha... I am so sorry I could not get here sooner." I say with a pathetic sob.

She looks up at me weakly as blood runs out of her mouth. I can see the wretched pain in her eyes. She takes a moment to focus.

"Who are you?" she manages to say

She is still alive! I can still save her!!

"Charibdys!!!" I roar at the top of my lungs hoping that she can hear me above the crowd. If there is anyone here that can heal Meekha is it her. "Come quickly!!!"

"Master?!?" Meekha says weakly. "Is that you?"

"Yes my child it is me. I have come back from the dead to find you. I have come to save you and take you far away from this place." I say with hopeless determination

"Charibdys!!!" I shout even louder.

Through the roar of the bloodthirsty crowd I hear her. "Calmfury!! I am coming" she yells as she fights to make her way through the mass of spectators.

I look up to find her just in time to have a half filled tankard of ale hit me in the face. Above me the crowd has turned angry, shouting obscenities and curses at me. Their leering and twisted faces staring at me as they begin to throw food, cups and anything else they can find.

My anger begins to boil and seethe within me. It is matched only by my anguish.

"Master" Meekha says in her pathetic voice as I turn and try to shield her with my body. "I am sorry I could not.." she gasps a bit for air as she coughs up a wad of foamy blood. "I wanted to learn to fight to avenge your death. I am sorry I disappointed you."

As I look into her darkening eyes I feel a bottomless swell of anguish and helplessness.

"Meekha, I swear to you. That I will not rest until the blood of Garrosh and the blood of Goregreedy is spilled. Their bodies will be broken and their hearts ripped from their chest. They will know no rest or peace while I still live. Even if it takes me a thousand lifetimes."

Her eyes go dark as I watch the last bit of life drain away. Charibdys lands hard on the sandy floor and runs to my side. She grabs the body of Meekha and begins to focus her healing magic. But, I know it is too late.

As I slowly stand I feel my muscles tense up and grim determination comes over me. They will all pay for what they did. Not a single one of them who felt joy at her death will leave this place.

Then, it comes. I suddenly feel a burning presence glaring at me from behind, a presence I have not felt for a long time. I slowly turn around, as debris is still being thrown at me, and there before me on the arena floor stands a ghostly black wolf. His oily fur bristling, and his slobbering maw hanging open like the gates of hell.

"Diogenes, my foolish love. Did you really think you could hide from me forever? You eluded me well this time, but your anger always brings me back, and this time, I will not let you leave me." the vicious ghostwolf says in a booming whisper to my mind.

As I stare at the apparition for a moment everything seems to go quiet. Time slows down as I come to the full realization of this horrid fate. They all said I was out of balance, and they were all right. I am not really a druid, but an avatar of sorts. An engine of immortal destruction. The incarnation of fury.

"Charibdys" I say slowly. "take Meekhas body to Mulgore and prepare a funeral pyre. I will meet you there in two days time."

She looks up at me in astonishment. "Calmfury, what are you going to do?"

Ignoring her I turn once again to the wolf. "Come to me worgen, come and let us cleanse the filth of this place."

With fluid grace I shift into a lion and leap up to the edge of the arena. The crowd parts from my hulking form as I glare at them with burning hatred. Then, I feel a hotness pour through my body and my bones begin to crack. I feel myself swell and grow larger as my muscles expand and my claws grow into vicious sabers. Instead of just a lion, I am become something else. I stand in full glory before their terror filled faces.

"It is through you Diogenes that I shall wield a greater power. Together we will crush our enemies!" the ghostly voice says in my mind.

"I will kill every last one of you!!" I manage to roar as the crowd begins to panic, and frantically tries scampers away.

"RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!"

My horrific roar echoes through the canyons of Orgrimmar, shaking the sandstone walls of the valleys beyond.

pt 42 The Arena

The commotion can be heard echoing across the canyons of the Valley of Honor. In the fading light of the approaching evening, a crowd gathers at the entryway of the Ring of Valor.

Normally, the massive arena, tucked away in the north east corner of Orgrimmar, is used for the myriad of fighting events that take place from time to time. It's Arena Battlemaster, War Hunter Molog, supervises scores of fights each day by both professional gladiators, and convicted criminals. However, in the evenings a mob takes over the arena for what the authorities think are small, harmless grudge matches by restless amateurs out to prove their fighting prowess. I guess in their minds it's better to have these kind of fights in here rather than in the streets.

It has been several months since I last checked in on my old friend Goregreedy. The last time I saw him was when I reunited him with his daughter. She was so heartbroken over the death of Calmfury. After barely escaping from the Argent Tournament and the wrath of Garrosh, I tried unsuccessfully to console her. But, I am a warrior not a nursemaid and I decided it was best that she go and live with her real father in Orgrimmar.

The mob outside the arena was small compared to the mass that had congregated inside. All of them laughing and drinking heavily. The smell of sweaty flesh and booze is almost overpowering.

Being a professional gladiator myself, I am accustomed to the savage mobs at these places. I travel to fights all across Azeroth and even into Outland. However, something seems different about this group. There is an insidious electricity in the air, as if everyone is here to witness an atrocity or a crime. Such is the nature of amateur fights I suppose.

After searching for a short time I find him. Goregreedy sits in a throne-like chair at the edge of the arena. He isn't wearing his armor anymore, and for good reason, in the past few month it looks like he's gained some weight, as his bloated, boil and disease ridden belly hangs out from beneath his clothes, that are now too small for him. At his side is that same old maul he has carried around since I have known him. He is talking to a group of people, and taking small bags of what I know are coins. I have been around long enough to recognize a gambler when I see one.

It takes me a bit to press my way through the crowd towards him. As I do, I can't help but glance down at the arena. It's blood stained sand floor remains empty except for the carcass of a bright yellow scorpid. Obviously I have either missed the main attraction or just a small opening fight.

"Ey Goregreedy, yer lookin like crap as usual" I say as slap him on his stained tunic.

He quickly turns to me, and his face lights up in a big smile. "Slasherjoe!! ya durty basturd!! How dah hell are ya doing!!" He takes a moment to stand up to give me a bear hug. As usual, his smell makes me gag, but what should I expect from a deathknight.

"Whut are ya doin in Orgrimmar des days?" he says as he falls heavily back down into his chair.

"Well, I gut a messuge frum Squish. She's comin tah town and wunts to see yous right away." As I speak, a troll tries to press a bag of coins into Goregreedy's hand, only to have him waved away.

"Git away!!" Goregreedy barks. "Eym not takin eny moar bets!!"

As if by some strange sense of respect or fear, the troll turns away without an argument. Usually, a bet taker will get harassed with negotiations for better odds or a larger bet on a fight.

"Aey Gore, weer is Meekha tonight?" I ask.

The Deathknight turns back to me with an uncharacteristic twinkle in his eye and a smile across his hideous face.

"Har har har!! Sheel be here soon eynuff" he says as he picks up a haunch of meat and stuffs it into his mouth.

"So, like ey said... Squish is ere lookin fer yah, sez eets real importint. Yu know how she ees, whin she whunts sumptin she whunts eet now. Whut do you whunt me ta tell er?"

Goregreedy stares at me blankly as he chews his food with an open mouth.

Suddenly, horns blare out loudly, drawing the attention of the crowd to an announcer.

"Its time fer dah fight you savage dogs!!!" the goblin announcer shouts in a voice that seems too big for his small frame.

"Slasher!" Goregreedy say as he grabs my arm. "Dis is gunna be good. Yah not gunna believ whut we got going tunight."

I've seen every fight imaginable. They all end up the same, in a pool of blood. Fortunately, I am too good to die in such a way.

"In dis corner!! Dah twin terrers of Duratar. Gronk and Korlong!!"

Out of the shadows walk two very young orc children. They are apparently twin brothers, and they each carry a short, pathetic spear. The bloodthirsty, anxious crowd cheers in anticipation.

"Whut the hell is dis Gore?!? Des peons are too young tah fight in dah arena!!" I say as I angrily grab him by the head. As I do, a clump of his greasy hair rips off into my hand.

"Let go of meh yah stoopid git!!" he says as he tries to shove me back. "Des gruntlins are gettin dah best educatin on how tah fight!! Nun of dem is gettin kilt or nutin!!"

"Yoo mean tah tell me yah have been fightin orfaned gruntlins in dah arena?!" I say in a frothing rage through clentched teeth.

"...And in dis corner!! Dah ferocious beast herself!!" the crowd starts roaring and stomping "Dah bloodthirsty Lioness of Duratar!! Meekha the Savage!!"

Out of the shadows on the other side steps a small orcish girl. She is dressed in bits of leather and mail armor with an ornate leather helm in the shape of a lion's face covering her head. In her hands she holds a pair of barbed fighting claws. Even from here I can see that her sweaty green body is covered by numerous scars and abrasions. Her muscles are lean and wirey as if she has been training hard to for this fight.

"You wretched basturd!!" I yell as I punch Goregreedy square in the face.

The disgusting Deathknight stands up and grabs the maul at his side.

"Stop eet yah basturd dog!! Eet wus her idea. She wunted tah be a warrior!"

I stare at him for a moment in complete disbelief and disgust. I have fought all this time in the arena as a gladiator, a noble profession amongst the Orcs. I know what goes on. I can't believe that a father would let his daughter do this, even if she asked. We orcs pride ourselves as warriors, but never would we have our children fight each other for sport, not even in the darkest days on Draenor.

"Ey cant stand tah watch yah do dis to yer daughter Gore. I hope she rips yer guts out sumday." I say as I turn and press through the roaring crowd.

Somehow it feels wrong of me to just leave. The thought crosses my mind for a moment to jump in the arena and stop the fight. To take Meekha away from this place and to really teach her how to fight and be a proud orc. But, as I leave the arena I realize that this is between a father and his daughter and that I have no business getting involved. Still, the heartbreak of seeing her come to this brings a tear to my eye. I can't help but look up at the dusty evening sky and say a prayer to the ancestors to help her.

"Slasher!!"

I look down the worn street leading to the arena and I see Squish leading a small entourage towards me. All of the old faces of Bloodlust are with her, along with a few new ones.

"Did you find Goregreedy as I asked?" the Bloodelf says as she approaches.

"Yea, hees in dere." I say with my head held down as I gesture towards the arena.

"Good, you continue to serve me well orc. Stick around, I need to talk to you." Squish says as she walks past me towards the massive building.

I follow the group back up the short walk to the door.

"I'm not going in there." Squish says as she stops at the entryway. "Calmfury, your on your own. We will wait out here until your done. Make it quick!

I watch as a burly looking Tauren at her side reluctantly lumbers forward and starts wading into the mob inside.

"Wait, Squish did yous call em Calmfury?" I say with a sneer.

Squish turns to me and nods with a half grin on her face.

"Dats not funny Squish" I say as I look back up at the faint twinkle of the evening stars. "Calmfury wus mah freend, ah watch'd Garrosh hack em tah peeces."

Squish continues to smile in her arrogant, all-knowning fashion.

"I am going in with him." another tauren says, this one a woman, as she runs forward and presses into the crowd.

Squish just sighs and shakes her head. "This is going to take forever."

pt 41 The bearer of bad news

The air got noticibly warmer as the zepplin approached the shores of Durotar. The red land was a beautiful sight to behold after seeing the endless ice fields of Northrend.

"Masta Orkymedis.. Ah hav a qwestion?" the scrawny little gruntling says to the grizzled and elderly shaman at his side.

The old orc reluctantly draws his concentration away from the red horizon and down to the child. Without saying a word he gives an austere nod.

"Uh.." the gruntling pauses for a moment in fear of the shaman. "Wut clan do yu bewong ta? Mah fadder and mudder were frum da Fwostwolf clan. Dey was warwers!!" he says proudly.

The shaman turns his gaze back to the approaching shoreline. He focuses hard, as if he is reading the winds.

"You are mispronouncing your words again child." he says sternly. "Speak slowly and how I taught you. If I am to be your teacher then you will speak proper orcish like we do in Nagrand, instead of this troll and human infused babble everyone speaks here."

The gruntling looks down at the deck of the zepplin in shame. At the same time a nearby Orc, no doubt listening in on the conversation, scoffs at the shaman and turns away.

"Captain!" Orkimedes says to the wretched little goblin piloting the zepplin. "You should steer closer to the ground, there is a blast of wind coming from the left side of your ship."

The goblin looks up from his controls with a sneer. "Mind yer own biznizz Orc, I've been pilotin these skies since...."

Suddenly the ship lurches hard to the side, sending all the passengers scampering for a handhold. One unlucky orc, sitting on his slobbering worg, is caught unaware and slides right off the side of the ship.

The zepplin creaks and groans as the captain works hard to get it under control. Finally, he puts the airship in a hard dive to escape the windsheer. As suddenly as it came, the gust of wind stops, and the zepplin is brought under control.

"Stuupid Shaman" the captain mutters. As he corrects his course towards their destination.

The shaken passengers recover themselves and begin looking over the sides of the boat for the unlucky orc.

"I was in the Blackrock Clan little one, and I am not proud of what I did, or what became of my clan. The Frostwolves are a fine clan and you should be proud of your heritage." the elderly shaman finally says in a subdued tone.

The gruntling looks up in amazement at Orkimedes, as a wide, awkward smile comes across his face.

"Masteer..." the child says slowly. "Weel you take meh ta Nagwand to see dah place weer mie ancestwers came frum?"

The shaman smiles through his sharp tusks. "That was better young one. Yes, we will return to the Throne of Elements sometime soon. However, I am growing to like this land. I think we may come back to Orgrimmar to live."

"Orgrimmar!!" the captain shouts as the zepplin crosses into Durotar and turns towards the docking tower outside of the gates of the Orc city.

"Gather our things child. We have to go see my brother as quickly as we can."

The puny gruntling strains to gather the heavy bags scattered across the deck.

As the zepplin slows in it's approach, the heavy weight of the warm, dusty air of Durotar settles on the passengers. Then, as it pulls up to the tower, all of the passengers suddenly exit the airhip in a mass exodus, no doubt shaken by the turbulant flight. No one but the shaman and his gruntling wait for the ship to actually stop.

"Quickly child, my brother awaits!" the shaman says as he runs onto the tower and down the stairs.

As they step out into the dry, dusty plains of Durotar, the massive walls of the City of Orgrimmar tower above them. The elderly shaman looks across the land and smiles, then he raises his arms in praise of the wind.

These past several days have been new and interesting for the little gruntling. While, he seen shamans before, he hasn't been around one for so long. Never has he lived with someone with such a strong spiritual tie to the ancestors and the elements.

Suddenly, Orkimedes utters a strange word in a harsh, almost demonic voice. Green fire erupts from the ground and a hellish looking steed appears. Then, the shaman lifts the gruntling and places him on its back before mounting the creature himself.

"Uh, mastwer..." the child says slowly in a fearful voice. "This is dah thing dat Worlocks ride awound on. Dey is scary, Ey seen dem in dah Shadow Valley in Orgwimmar."

"Yes little one" the shaman smiles as he spurs the animal towards town. "I was not always a shaman. Thankfully, the elements have forgiven me for following Gul'dan."

The nightmare steed races through the gates of Orgrimmar and into the crowded streets beyond. There is no time to delay, what has been revealed about the fate of the gruntlings in Orgrimmar must be relayed to Eitrigg. To Orkimedes, this will be the defining moment for Thrall. If he laughs this off or ignores it, then it is clear that he is with Garrosh in this plan to throw these children in the arenas.

As the pair tear through the back caves of Orgrimmar, called the Drag, the old shaman sees Felika talking to some Blood Elves. No doubt he is eager save the children of Orgrimmar, and then save her from a lonely night alone in her bed.

Finally, they enter the canyon called the Valley of Wisdom, before them is the imposing entrance to Grommash Hold. The home and throne room of the mighty Thrall. As they approach the gates, the guards come to attention and eye the pair with suspicion.

Orkimedes dismounts the Fel Steed, and with a wave of his hand, it disappears in a flash.

"Child, stay here with the bags. I will return soon." the shaman says as he walks past the guards and into the fortress.

Inside it is hot and stifling, and the smell of cooking meat is enticing. The outer chamber of the fortress is the dwelling place of Thrall's elite Kor'kron guards who watch him wearily. As Orkimedes passes the hallway into Thrall's inner sanctum he sees his brother standing to the side in a quiet vigilance.

"Eitrigg, I need to speak to Thrall immediatly!" Orkimedes says as he approaches.

Eitrigg turns, and his face lights up in a wide smile.

"Dretrigg my little brother. You are back from Northrend. I am so glad to see you in one piece."

The pair embrace in a bearhug.

"Brother" Orkimedes says. "Please don't use my name anymore."

Eitrigg looks offended for a moment. "Little brother you are safe. This is Thrall's chamber, the very heart of the Horde. You can trust everyone here."

"I am not convinced of that yet Eitrigg. Listen to me, I have unraveled the secret that the ancestors sent me here to find."

Eitrigg's face becomes hard as he focuses on his brothers words.

"You see" Orkimedes continues. "Veterans of the war in Northrend are bringing orphaned children back from the Argent Tournament. They are secretly fighting these gruntlings in the Orgrimmar arena for sport. Apparently, this was ordered by Garrosh himself to sort out the weak, and to toughen these orphans up. My contact refused to tell my why."

"That is preposterous!!" Eitrigg exclaims "These gruntlings are too young for such a thing, it is against our customs to fight them before they are of age. Garrosh would not, can not order this. Who was this contact you speak of?"

Orkimedes reaches into a leather bag hanging from his belt and produces the severed head of an orc. His gore covered face twisted into a mask of horror.

"He died before I could get more out of him. He said he was sent to Icecrown to recruit veterans with their gruntlings for Garrosh's plan. His head is proof brother, you can speak to his spirit if you want to know more."

Eitrigg's face goes sour as he ponders this new information.

"Stay here little brother, I will speak to Thrall about this." Eitrigg says as he walks towards the throne of the Warchief. Then, he suddenly turns around.

"Dretrigg" he says in a whisper. "Thrall must not know about Garrosh's order or even his involvement in this. He already doesn't trust him and something like this could drive a wedge into the heart of our people."

Without waiting for a response, Eitrigg turns and approaches Thrall's throne. Meanwhile, Orkimedes stands quietly, watching Thrall's face, eager to see how he will react.

At first, Eitrigg talks quietly to the Warchief as Thrall sits stoicly and listens to his words. Then, the coversation becomes animated as a look of anger and disgust gradually work their way into Thrall's face.

Suddenly, Thrall stands. "Kor'kron!! to the Ring of Valor, quickly. Arrest anyone inside."

With his entire court following behind him, Thrall strides out of Grommash hold.

"RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!"

A horrific roar echoes through the canyons of Orgrimmmar, shaking the sandstone walls of the valleys beyond.

"What was that?" Thrall shouts as everyone quickly makes their way towards the massive arena in the Valley of Honor.