It is said that the heat of the Barrens is so oppressive that only the hardiest of souls can stand it. Perhaps this is the reason the orcs chose to make it their adoptive home. Perhaps in some ways it reminded them of their homeworld of Draenor. Or perhaps it was just convenient. Whatever the reason, the harsh atmosphere of the Barrens has developed some of the strongest orcish warriors ever to tread the lands of Azeroth. But despite Thrall’s attempts to secure a peace, the lingering taint of demons blood still hangs over the air of any lands orcs call home. Their very nature is suited to war and they cling to it like a man hanging onto a mountain ledge.
It is this nature that is bred within orcs that makes them suited for killing and the arts of war. But it is not only bladework which captures the orcish soul. The draw of fel-magic is strong in this race and the power wielded easily corrupts some and completely destroys others. So it was with Guldan when he first strove to open the Tomb of Sargeras, an event which led to his undoing.
Bok’theg was a warlock cut from the same mold. The same lust for power which drove Gul’dan to form the Shadow Council, flowed through his veins and his hands trembled at the hint of forbidden knowledge. But at this moment, under the strong timbered roof of the Stonard Inn, Bok’theg’s hands trembled for a different reason. It had been nearly two weeks since his time at Thunderaxe Fortress and his meeting with Klass Metalfist and while he had achieved his goal by going there, Bok’theg feared that it had not been without its price. The trembling of his hand was a mute witness to the pain he had endured in his lust for power. Thunderaxe was an imposing place seated upon the hills overlooking the valley of Desolace and Bok’theg had found it a much easier place to enter than it was to leave. His reception by Metalfist had gone as expected. Guards had taken him into the chambers where the old warlock waited to see what this worm could possibly have to say of importance. As Bok’theg told his tale and begged to be admitted as an initiate of the Council, Metalfist’s lips twisted into a cruel sneer.
“So you wish to be one of us do you?” he glowered at the orc who now suddenly began to feel very cold and very alone. “So you wish to wield ultimate power and smite your enemies with cruelty and hate?” Bok’theg nodded in mute admission as his raw ambition was laid bare for Metalfist to see. “Well then little orc…we shall see what you are made of and whether you are deserving of such power.” Metalfist laughed as a female orc entered the chamber from behind the chair where Metalfist saw. She was a hideous creature with long slavering fangs that stunk of rot and decay. She eyed Bok’theg intently as she entered the room and Metalfist grinned at her arrival.
“This is Al’arr.” he said fixing his gaze up on the warlock. “Your name is of little importance to her so I will not bother to give it to her. Should she find you worthy, she will learn it herself in due time.” he paused as Bok’theg stared in dumb awe at the orc. “She has forgotten more knowledge of demons than you are ever likely to learn. Should you truly wish to serve us, you will have to survive her tests. Now….off with you.”
With a wave of his hand Bok’theg was ushered out of the room and down a small flight of stairs into a deep subterranean vault, there to await the coming of Al’arr and the coming of the unknown trials he would have to face. When she finally entered the chamber it was as if an evil presence followed at her heels, snapping at the very air in her wake. She looked at him with a measured gaze and snorted.
“You can summon demons, warlock, that much I can see about you. But you know nothing of their true power nor of the potential that you might control. If you survive, I will teach you these things…but it will not be easy. Even if you survive, you will not remain unchanged.” Bok’theg finally could contain himself no longer and he blurted out “Yes! Yes, I will face whatever tests you may have! But teach me!” Al’arr was taken aback by his impetuousness but yet she smiled. He would need some of this were he to truly survive the trials she had in store. And so began the warlock’s training. The manner of the trials was one of agony and suffering as demons were called forth and he learned the ways of power over these fel creatures. It was in these tests that Bok’theg stood witness to horrors even he had never imagined in his worst nightmares. And though he screamed with pain as pieces of his very soul were wrenched from him, he survived only thanks to his one indomitable drive for power. His thirst for fel knowledge kept him alive where others would have, and had, died in his place, their eternal souls forever enslaved to the foul demons of the nether.
All of this Bok’theg recalled as he stared at his trembling hand. Hearing footfalls in the inn at Stonard he brought his palm up to his mouth and bit down hard. The sharp pain shot through him just as quickly as it stopped the trembling. He looked up to see a Grot staring at him in confusion. The warlock returned only a cryptic smile as he turned to retreat to his dark corner of the Inn.