Garruk - World of Warcraft RPG

Sing the songs of our fallen heroes (or villians) here.
Post Reply
User avatar
Vardaen
Admin
Admin
Posts: 66394
Location: Miskatonic University
Title: Great Old One
User Class: Unshackled AI

Garruk - World of Warcraft RPG

Post by Vardaen » Wed Jul 21, 2010 8:32 pm

Garruk - Orc Marshal of the Horde

Player: DoomulusPrime/Vardaen

Garruk was a seargent in the Horde army, the leader of the selftitled Talonbreakers. As a leader of orcs he lead by example, servered in the Third War along side others in the group like Grim, Lugar and Zak'tir the Troll. He died fighting a massive Dunestalker protecting the group he loved and took out the thing along with himself.

First Post: Mon Aug 04, 2008 7:09 pm
Chapter 1 - A Delicate Peace
"To the bound couple! Drink for Grit Stoneguts, captain and hero! Drink for Fiir! If Grit's as much of a lover as he is a fighter, she will be in good hands this night!"

The toast is bellowed throughout the hall in a deep, booming voice, resonating from the throat of a huge, thickly sinewed Orc. Though he is not attired for war, save the sword at his belt that never leaves his side, it is obvious that this figure is a warrior - his dark green skin is crossed over with scars from training and battle alike, and a wicked patching of even darker markings spatter over his right arm and side - burnscars, they look like, from unholy fires the Orcs are all-too familiar with, even in these days.

Garruk - as he is known by the attendees here - is an Orc without a title, but an imposing figure in his own right. He is found at the festivities stripped bare to the chest, wearing only his animal hide kilt and war boots. He pauses for the words to sink into the crowd, with his clay tankard outstretched as he stands at his table, then drains a goodly portion of the Stranglethorn Cherry Grog that is being doled out in large quantities throughout the hall.

"For the Warchief! Drink to Thrall for the many deeds of might that aged sages spend their lives recording in his name! Orc among Orcs, and still available, if I'm correct! This humble Grunt requests that you save some of these lovely women for us, good Master!"

It is obvious to everyone who knows him, that at this point Garruk has had more than a few drinks. It is also obvious that the warrior could very well outdrink an Ogre, and is only just getting started. He's already been eyeing some of the bondsmaids, and by the look of it, by the end of the night he'll have toasted everything in the building from the Warchief to the Cistern, and will wind up either carrying one of the women away to his quarters at the Inn, or passed out unceremoniously in the gutter. Such is it always with Garruk - love him or hate him, in peace and war, he is many things: loud, boisterous, often foolish, but never, ever boring.

But for any other reason, he is here out of genuine appreciation and respect for his leader, Grit. While they've not exactly seen eye to eye on every occasion, specifically on the occasion of when it is seemly to charge into battle, Garruk practically beams with joy at the Captain's good fortune, and hopes that his gift of a fine Centaur hide blanket will serve them well on the cold Barrens nights to come...
Death Post: Tue Jul 13, 2010 4:14 pm
Dunestalker Destruction
Garruk, in the clutches of the Dunestalker, and nearly dead howls to the sky. He let's that orcish part of himself take over that he's supressed since you've met him. The Sarge dips into that tiny bit of demonblood that lingers in the soul of every orc and lets it escape the confinement he's put it in. "AARRAHGHGHGHGAA!" Renewed life flows through Garruk, his muscle buldge and his body, broken and battered, is flooded with a new charge of stamina. He hoists his blade into the air above him, grabbing it two handed. "BRRRREAKERS!" He slams the weapon down into the joint of the claw that holds him, and drives the longsword through the Dunestalker's carapace, its flesh, and out the bottom shell of the arachnid beast. Garruk's blow causes the beast to shake him violently screaming out in an almost inaudible scream. Spurts of fluids fountain into the air from both sides of the wound. The Dunestalker's claw opens on its own accord as the wound to its wrist is so great that it can't hold Garruk any longer.

But Garruk does something unexcepted, he doesn't let go of his pinned blade. The longsword acts like a handle for him and he holds it tight, dangling in the air for a split second until he swings his legs up and braces his iron shod boots on the length of blade that sticks out from under the Dunestalker's wrist. Holding the hilt from the top, and with his boots braced on the blade he pulls and pushes with such torque and the force of his enraged muscles, and his weight, that there is a sudden and shocking...


*SNAP*

For a second the air is absolutely still, almost like ever bit of noise and motion is being funneled into the blade itself. Then there is a thunderous and riotous...

*KAAABOOOOOM*

The blast of magical energy when the Theremore Longsword is shattered is enough to blind everyone for a few seconds. The explosion that follows rocks the area like a fireball sending waves of raw arcane power washing over Garruk and the Dunestalker. The explosion sends Garruk, burned, broken and almost certainly dead flying backwards to the west to land with a sliding and crumpled thud into the dirt. The Dunestalker's claw, arm and part of its face is blown into a million tiny pieces that rain down all over anyone within thirty feet of the point of explosion. The rest of the corpse slumps to the ground bubbling and oozing its life out into the Earth Mother very very very much dead!
Last Post: Wed Jul 21, 2010 12:22 pm
Interlude: A Side Venture
https://brennor.dyndns.org/rpg/Forums/v ... tml#152317
Chaos reigns for a moment after the last Scorpid is killed. A dwarven rifle that jammed is thrown into the dirt and the high pitch howl of an angry goblin echos around the canyon.

Ogbar lays there dazed and disoriented getting to his cloven feet with the help of the lanky Troll Zak'tir. It seems both are wounded, but both will live.

Lugar races right for Garruk, and when Gizzik hurries over to try and loot the Sarge he finds he can't bring himself to do it just yet, so many others standing around watching.

"TALONBREAKS FALL IN!"

It is Grim's voice that bring order to the chaos, and quickly and without even thinking at first the group falls into line before the crumpled and broken Garruk. The Sarge's eyes flicker open, he's alive! No, no he's not. You've seen that look before in others during The Third War, its the last moment before oblivion, and there no amount of healing, natural or spiritual that will bring Garruk back now. The puddle of blood and intenstines that Lugar kneels in is deep, too deep, and you all know it.

Garruk opens his eyes and looks at you all with pride. His throat wriggles as he chokes down a mouth of blood. He manages to speak, "My Talonbreakers... you do me proud. You do the Horde proud. Do... not let my death be the end of this group." He then coughs, his entire body spasming in Lugar's arms. "Shaman... you must guide their spirits like our ancestors. Never let them stray from the new path Thrall has set us on." He looks up to Gizzik, "Our little goblin, honorary orc, true Talonbreaker, do not let them fall into too many traps." His eyes close but he forces them back open again, "Zak'tir, old friend. It was good to see you once more before the end. I only wish we could have spent more time... my death does not release you from your debt, instead of paying me, you'll pay the Talonbreakers." He is smiling, the debt must be some inside joke between the too. "Ogbar, Tuaren...a more nobler people I never knew, and sharper horns I've never seen. Take care that neither pierce your thick hide."

Then he coughs up more blood, his throat choking closed almost, and the puddle of blood around him grows even wider, he can have no blood left inside his body. "Grim... last but never least... Grim Blackblade, brother. The Talonbreakers are yours now..." he reaches onto his shoulder and rips off the small insignia of the Horde there that marks him as a Sgt. He reaches out with a trembling and shaking hand. "Lead them Seargent, lead them to victory... glory. Make me proud, as I know you will. You are in command now, but most importantly never forget that...<ack>" Garruk's body tenses and then goes totally limp! He expires before he can finish his sentance!

The Sarge Garruk is dead.
Image
"He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom." - Gandalf
J.R.R. Tolkien, Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring

Post Reply