Akairos123/Warchief of the Fel Orcs

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The Massive Hellfire citadel stood empty, for months, the Fel Orcs had been suffering larger and larger losses, lsoing each of it's captains, even losing it's Warchief, and even more amazingly, The pit lord Magtheridon, the source of all Fel Orcs power, was no more. "Something must be done..." were the thoughts of the Lone Fel Orc that stalked through the crooked halls of the fortress. The Orc moved through what most Fel Orcs knew to be the Shattered halls. "A fitting name, The shattered halls..." The ORc mused to Himself, and it was true, Hellfire citadel was a wreck, the foundations were shattered, the statues crumbling and the keep was littered with crumbling walls and sectors in a state of near collapse. The ORc stopped, realizing he had reached what was once the Throne chamber of the Warchief, Kargath Bladefist. "Amazing," He said to no one is particular. "Amazing that a force so mighty and so massive it could blanket the land could be reduced to this..." He moved past the Warchief's throne, instead ascending to the peaked roof at the back of the Demonic Blood furnace. The orc went through his memories as he did. Who was he? Grellak Thunderaxe was his name. He had been a Warlord of the Dragonmaw clan all his life. When the Citadel came under attack, he barged into the Drake stalls, hopped on the closest and fastest one and rocketed off across the nether, but all too late, he arrived to see a fortress in the midst of being conquered. Every part of his orcish nature told him to rush in, fight his best, and die a glorious death in service to Lord Illidan. A stronger, more rational part of him told him to fall back, take what few orcs had had with him and rebuild somewhere. One day, when the Fel Horde was strong again, they would retake Hellfire CItadel and make it their own...

"Thats what I'm doing now, I suppose..." Said Grellak as he gazed out from the very apex of the highest tower on the Citadel. From all around him, all he could see was dead red soil, warped broken metal and the remnants of a passed war, only illuminated by Flashes of lightning and flames occasionally erupting from the ground. "Something must be done..." Grellak thought to himself yet again. Bonechewer had Fallen, Bleeding hollow had fallen, even the might Shattered hand and Dragonmaw clans had fallen, He grimaced, he did not like being reminded of these losses and each one presented itself to him like a knife in the gut. Grunting, he began to descend the tower. "Something must be done, and it must be done, now." He concluded. He had taken the strongest survivors after the battle and returned to the Black Temple, the News had been met with outrage by Lord Illidan, and he had been ordered to return to the Dragonmaw fortress to await further orders, He had quietly fumed at this, feeling like being the messenger bearing bad news, But it was done, Soon afterwards, the Black Temple itself would come under siege. The Illidari forces were shattered, despite fighting them at every turn, and Lord illidan has perished. at that point, grellak felt the urge to give it all up, find a small little village to conquer in the fields of Nagrand. That Impulse lasted all of five seconds. No. He said to himself at that moment, He swore he would not miss another battle where he may have made a difference, and he knew he would have. He Then set off to gather what survivors he could, outside the black Temple of course, the Surviving council members declared the Temple on lockdown, and Grellak set off to find the remnants of the Bonechewer, Shattered hand, Dragonmaw, Bleeding Hollow, Shadowmoon, and Laughing Skull clans wherever he could, and led them into the wilds of outland, knowing one day, he would return.

That had been three years ago.

Soon afterwards, The Illidari had found enough numbers to regroup. Grellak Found this out one day after maiming Blood Elf who had come too close to his band of warriors, Fortunately, He had searched the corpse afterwards, and had found a missive insisting He and his Fel Orcs return to the Black Temple, Under the Leadership of Lord Gathios Dawncrusher, The Illidari had been reunited, Sensing an opportunity and a chance, he gathered his warriors, and began the long march back to the Black temple. Upon returning, he did not show signs of amazement, better not to in front of his troops, but he was amazed by what the Illidari had re-accomplished. He had been called to the chamber of command, and was greeted by the sight of four unknown Blood Elves sitting on the Council's seats, all presided over by Lord Gathios. A regal looking Blood Elf and apparent unofficial leader of the council approached him. Grellak could sense the power radiating off of this figure, Who soon introduced himself as Akairos Shadowsun and the others to be Varion, Emalion, and Alessandra. The new council. What they offered was enticing. Command of troops and blood to spill. As any sane, or at least uncontrolled by the Bloodlust Fel Orc would do, he acepted.

"So, That brings us to here..." Grellak said to himself as he looked at the massive Citadel outside the gates. "What was that, Sir?" asked his second. "Nothing, Ruvok, Return to camp, we've got work ahead of us and you need to be at your best." The Fel Orc Saluted, heading over the nearby hills where the rest of the small Fel Orc army Grellak had brought with him had camped for the Night, Tomorrow, they would be moving into the Citadel. The Illidari would soon control this land yet again, The Fel Horde would be avenged, and He would have his pride back, and for the first time, he allowed himself to sink into the victories he knew he would reap from the battles ahead and for the first time, allowed himself to be envisioned as he who saved the Fel Horde, he who was worthy of leadership.

Warchief Grellak Thunderaxe...

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