Factions

CRACK!
The wicked looking steel blade buried itself in the tree just as Bok’theg ducked. Seeing it’s wielder trying desperately to unhinge the sword from its new home deep within the tree’s bark, Bok’theg jumped back to his feet and kicked the draenei square in the gut. The space-goat doubled over in pain letting go of the blade which gave the warlock the split second he needed. He bellowed a single phrase in the eldritch tongue with a force that rose from his core as it was spoken. Almost instantly draenei’s face turned a horrible looking pale color and blood began to seep from his mouth, nose and eyes. The Alliance soldier fell to his knees and began vomiting uncontrollably as a satisfied smile crept across Bok’theg’s face. Not only did the spell replenish his own strength, but it pleased him to see that it was killing a draenei. He hated draenei. Worthless, world stealing wretches who deserved nothing less than total extermination. That the dying soldier wore a tabard identifying him as a member of the Knights of Dusk, only made the spectacle that much more enjoyable. Unfortunately, the warlock’s rapture was cut short by a scream from behind him.

He turned to see one of his newer Lak’gora, a troll priestess being hit on the back of the head by horribly large human. Chanting a low incantation, the warlock summoned an ancient evil which crept into the mind of the pink-skin and sent him fleeing in terror. Relieved of the pressure of the relentless attack, the priestess regained her footing and stretched out a hand, gripping another member of the Grin in an invisible vice, yanking him from the midst of three other Knights.

“Hit ‘dem now!” the troll screamed at the top of her lungs.

The warlock rained balls of fire on their heads while a Grin mage nearby pelted them with razor-sharp shards of ice. The knights fell in a bloody heap, their lifeblood draining into the dark grass of Duskwood as a massive tauren death knight waded into their midst and began hacking at any of the limbs which continued to move in the pile of bodies.

Finally, the screams died down to low moans of the soon-to-be departed and Bok’theg approached the tauren. Pulling off his hood the orc watched as a lone nightelf’s arm quivered and fell in final death spasm.

“Not so much hate for the Lak’gora now, eh Boss Grunt?” sarcasm dripped like acid from the orc’s voice.

The tauren didn’t even turn to face him but the scowl on his face had nothing to do with the battle they had just fought. The rift between the Gol’kosh and Lak’gora had spread and even in a skirmish in Duskwood, the two clansmen would barely glance at each other with anything but mildly concealed hatred and mistrust.

“Back to Stonard for debriefing Grin!” the death knight shouted, ignoring the warlock.

Bok’theg watched as the Grin mounted their drakes and wyverns. He saw the mangled bodies around him and looked up into the branches of the glooming trees which hung over his head like a canopy. The familiar soft voice echoed in his mind as he stood motionless. Like the return of an old friend, the voice soothed him and gave him wise-counsel. He nodded slowly to the unheard advice and grinned in silence as he whistled for his own drake. Hopping on the dragon’s back, he lifted silently off the ground and soared away south toward the Swamp of Sorrows.

Bok’theg’s Journal
Entry: 29 April

The winds of change blow unexpectedly but if one is prepared, the roof won’t blow away. The Cheiftain’s return brought a promotion for Ashenrock. I think the tauren was pleased to be named Ha’gosh of the Mok’gun. But if one were judging him by the rancor in his tone towards the Smashblade, one would think it a punishment.

Certainly there is no love lost between the two. It seems he still blames the loss of Faquarl and Yagyu on Gorfrunch and he will likely take that hatred to his grave. Odd behavior for such a peace-loving druid. Or perhaps he is no longer so fond of peace? Regardless, this is a completely different direction from that of Virroth. Where the Mok’gun go from here remains to be seen.

Shortly following the Ha’gosh’s promotion, the Chieftain reiterated the call for Gol’kosh minders to be present at all meetings of the Mok’gun and Lak’gora. Such a thing was not unexpected and I am glad we have planned for such an eventuality. Now the only question remaining is to determine which path will benefit us the most. The intricate plans we made to make Hakumen the new Ur’shok were shattered by the simplest of occurrences…the Chieftain himself promoted him. Ha! Fortunately, our fragile truce still stands with Hakumen and I must craft carefully my reply to his missive. The letter reminding me of Gorfrunch’s call to submit to Gol’kosh inspection must be answered…but all things in due time.

For the moment, the Lak’gora have more important matters to attend to. The Ur’shok…and the Chieftain…can wait.

Moonberries. It was probably a sort of sacrilege to admit but Bok’theg actually enjoyed the taste of the damnable things. The satisfying pop as his teeth bit into them, the delicious sweet taste, even the texture of the skins. They were a pleasing treat in a place that held little comforts. Stonard was hot and humid and foul smelling and Bok really didn’t care for the place. Why it seemed to attract so many of his kind, he could never fathom. But the Grin loved the place. It drew them like a family hearth even as it seemed to instigate their squabbles.

Today had been no different. The fight between Ashenrock and Krozlowe had surprised even him and it put him an unfamiliar position. But it was quite apparent to all concerned that the normally passive druid had come to a raging boil quite quickly and Bok had to wonder if there wasn’t something else festering below the surface.

Krozlowe was a known quantity. It was quite obvious that the goblin was one of Gorfrunch’s more trusted lackeys and the Chieftain seemed to be relying more and more heavily upon them. Although CDI was the least known of any of the Grin’s organized units it was no secret they did the Chieftain’s dirty-work. The question was not ‘how’, but rather ‘why’. Was the Chieftain distrustful of his own clan? He seemed to trust the Gol’kosh but even they had been somewhat easily marginalized and lately Gorfrunch himself had seemed different. He often appeared distracted and was more easily annoyed than before. That the warlock’s familiar use of his name had succeeded in raising the death knight’s hackles was telling. It was something that would have been beneath the notice of the Chieftain of old. Bok’theg popped another Moonberry into his mouth and smiled at the thought of discovering yet another chink in Gorfrunch’s supposedly impenetrable armor…which brought his mind back to the druid. Ashenrock.

The new Ha’gosh was definitely feeling his oats and he had his own ideas about which way the Grin would move. Bok’theg found himself surprised that they were getting along so well. He had never expected forgiveness for the events of the past but neither had he expected to find a sort of ally in the tauren. The overt hatred between Rock and Gor was threatening to explode and Bok’theg was uniquely positioned to take advantage of the resulting chaos. Avoiding Gol’kosh eyes had never been difficult and it was even easier now that they had the Mok’gun to be concerned with. Bok made a mental note to ensure they were informed of the Mok’gun’s plans as he grabbed another berry. It couldn’t hurt to keep the Gol’kosh eyes spread as far as possible. They would be bound to miss something. He smiled as he twirled the ripe berry in between his fingers. So fragile when separated, he thought to himself. He would enjoy gobbling them all up,… one by one.

Looking out over the horizon towards Blackrock Mountain, Thuugom puffed on his Dwarven Cigar. “It seems, my Lord, that the Chief is going to divide the Grin against each other with the Gol’kosh to watch the Lak’gora and the Mok’gun. Whether or not he knows it, it more than likely will pit us against one another.” He spurted out all of a sudden.

Bok’theg shifted his eyes towards Thuugom, but otherwise keeping a stern face. “Such decisions are born of fear, Felblade...they all fear us. But you must keep such thoughts to yourself or it could cost you your head.”

Thuugom grinned and laughed, “My Lord, I’ve already died once and it probably won’t take the Lak’gora much to bring me back. If that is what you would choose, my Lord, but I will keep these thoughts to myself.”

“Good to hear Felblade. Now what about the Lizardrat, did everything go smoothly?” Bok’theg asked.

“I don’t trust him my Lord being a Gol’kosh and all of a sudden wanting to come to Lak’gora. Seems suspicious to me, especially after the Chief had said that the Gol’kosh would ‘watch’ over the Lak’gora and the Mok’gun.” Thuugom said as he puffed away.

"The Mok'gun can take care of themselves. ....and we will take care of the Gol'kosh."

Bok’theg grinned inwardly as he looked out over the Burning Steppes.