Thanks as always go to Chris Metzen for the wonderful universe he created, hope you enjoy the story and please review!
The evening breeze caressed Corax's face, bringing with it the sounds and smells of the Barrens as he meditated. He always loved this time, when the heat of the day had dissipated but had not yet turned into the frigid cold of night. The setting sun bathed his face in its amber rays, brightly illuminating the jagged scar on his left cheek, a memento of battles past. In the distance he could hear the gentle thudding of a herd of deer as they made their way to the nearby oasis to drink and rest. As they often had of late, his thoughts began to turn to the events that had brought him to such a solitary existence…
Corax had never known his parents; they had both died at the hands of the Silverwing Sentinels when he was too young to remember. He didn't know how or why, he only knew that he had been taken in by the Orcs of the Warsong clan. The moment he was old enough to hold a sword, he had been placed into the care of a grizzled old Orc named Targ, whose task it was to train the youth of the Warsong clan in the martial arts. Though a brutal, unforgiving instructor, Targ was also a seasoned veteran of many battles and often regaled his young charges with stories of past glories. In addition to the rigorous weapons training, Targ had drummed into all of his charges a code of honour by which they must live their lives at all times.
"An Orc without honour is little more than a beast" he would say, his voice iron hard. Most of his fellow students ignored the old orc, humouring him in order to learn from his superior martial skill, but Corax listened attentively absorbing every word.
It was during his training which Corax's skill as a tracker began to reveal itself. He was able to follow trails days old across all kinds of terrain. He never lost his way even when blindfolded and led into the forest at night; he was still able to find his way back to the camp, whilst his fellows had to wait until daylight to return.
When he came of age, Corax had joined the warrior patrols guarding the peons as they harvested the much needed lumber from Ashenvale forest. It was on one such patrol that he had his first encounter with the Sentinels. He had been running point for his patrol, tracking a raiding party of Sentinels as they withdrew into the forest after raiding a lumber caravan. Based upon the tracks, he estimated their numbers as fifteen to twenty Sentinels. In terms of numbers, it would be a roughly even fight as his patrol numbered seventeen orcs including himself. Moving with the measured, silent step of a natural predator, Corax moved up on a clearing, freezing instantly as he heard softly spoken voices ahead. With careful precise movements, he closed the gap to the edge of the clearing in order to glimpse his foes. The Sentinels had paused for a moment of rest, he counted seventeen Night Elves in total; twelve were taking their ease in the middle of the clearing, watched over by the other five who were standing on guard duty. The weapons of the twelve in the centre, he noted, were kept close to their owners, ready to be taken up in a moments notice. The Sentinels all wore uniform close fitting leather armour so as not to restrict their movements in combat, they wore no helms choosing the greater freedom for their senses over the protection a helm offered. He studied the Elves a moment more, seeing the tense alert nature of the guards as they scanned the edges of the clearing for threats, taking them by surprise was unfeasible. He cautiously withdrew and returned to his waiting patrol, moving quietly but quickly, lest they alert the Sentinels with their heavy footfalls.
"Corax, have you found them?" asked Garh, the leader of the patrol. He was known as Wingslayer within the Clan, due to his personally killing the leaders of ten Silverwing Sentinel war parties, along with a good number of rank and file Sentinels.
"Yes sir, there's seventeen of them in the clearing up ahead, twelve resting in the middle of the clearing, five guards on the perimeter, the guards are alert and tense, the ones resting have their weapons close at hand. I don't believe we will be able to catch them unawares sir" Corax replied in hushed tones.
The veteran absorbed his words without comment, his scarred face expressionless as he worked out a plan of attack.
"Ok listen up. We will advance towards the clearing then split into three groups; one will proceed down the centre, the other two will proceed to flank the Sentinels. Once you see me move, charge them hard and fast. It is doubtful we can take them by surprise, so be ready for a hard fight. Move!" Garh issued orders in clipped precise tones, leaving no room for doubt.
The patrol advanced in silent discipline fanning out just before they reached the clearing, Corax's breath caught in his throat. He was certain the elven sentries would hear them coming and they would charge from the forest into a hail of arrow fire. Sooner than seemed possible Garh thundered into the clearing ahead of him, emitting a bellowing roar which shattered the peace of the forest as he ran. The rest of the patrol was hot on his heels, charging into the clearing and loosing battle calls of their own. The Sentinels reacted with battle-honed speed, swiftly drawing their swords and forming a defensive formation. The Orc's closed the gap quickly slamming into the Elven formation all battle plans were quickly forgotten as each warrior found his own opponent and the combat was reduced to singular level. Corax found himself facing a sentinel who judging from her bearing was a skilled warrior, her sword raised in a tight two handed grip as forest green eyes studied his stance. Without warning the sentinel lashed out with a brutal cut aimed at his chest, Corax barely parried the blow with his own blade, the sentinel's sheer speed catching him off guard. The ring of steel on steel resounded throughout the clearing, intermingled with grunts of pain. Corax was surprised at the strength of his opponent's blows, her slender frame belying the obvious power in her strikes. Corax stumbled back as the Sentinel unleashed a furious series of blows, sorely testing his abilities with the blade, he felt a jolt of pain along his arm where he'd been a second to slow in his parry the Sentinel's blade had gouged a short but deep cut in his left forearm. He felt his blood run hot with anger as he replied with a furious attack, pressing the Sentinel back with the sheer power of his blows. He feinted a blow towards the Sentinels head, she in response raising her blade to deflect the blow realising to late what the blow was as he turned it to slice a long gouge across her stomach, the strength of his blow cutting through her leather armour to the soft flesh below. The Sentinel staggered at the blow, stumbling backwards as the wound bled fiercely, Corax mercilessly pressed his advantage beating down the Sentinels defence as she rapidly weakened from her wound. Corax lunged forward his blade aimed straight at her heart; the Sentinel greatly weakened from her wound and the savage attacks of the Orc, was unable to dodge the blow as his sword sliced threw her armour and ran her through. Corax withdrew his blade and let forth a mighty roar of triumph, his blood sang with the thrill of combat, never in his life had he felt so alive. The powerful orc could feel his chest tighten, almost painful, as the lust of the battle drained from within him, a euphoric feeling, leaving behind it a longing for the experience of the red mist yet again. He looked about the clearing to see the rest of the patrol finishing off the Sentinels. Two Orcs lay unmoving on the ground clearly dead whilst a third was clutching his breast attempting to stem a wound which was bleeding copiously.
"Well done lad. That was a Captain you took down. Must have been newly promoted to have succumbed so easily" Garh sauntered towards him, ignoring the Elven dead and the numerous cuts he sported.
"It was pure luck sir. I think the strength of my blows caught her off guard" Corax replied modestly.
"Aye lad, when your blood's up, it lends you far more strength than you thought you could posses" Garh replied before turning to the other warriors and issuing orders to leave the Elven dead and take up their own to be returned to the Hold for the proper ceremonies.
His slaying of the Sentinel Capitan had obviously impressed his comrades, Orcs he had grown up with and trained alongside now eyed him with respect, and he was even receiving gruff nods of acknowledgement from the older warriors. His newfound standing was to have a boon effect; he had been awarded a place on a retaliatory raid against the Sentinels. The assault force was to consist of thirty Orcs, once again under the command of Garh. The band boasted a number of hardened combatants and it filled Corax with pride to have been chosen to fight alongside them. The company moved out from Warsong Lumber mill at a brisk, ground-eating pace, their target a secluded stretch of road between Astranaar and Silverwing hold. The forward scouts had determined that a supply convoy set out from Astranaar at the same time once a week to re-supply the Sentinels; this was to be their target. The war band made swift progress through Ashenvale forest arriving at the ambush point and taking up positions with time to spare. Corax felt his heartbeat quicken with anticipation of the oncoming battle as he waited in his hiding place, behind a tree a few short metres from the road. It wasn't long before the forward scouts returned with word the convoy was approaching and the word was passed silently from warrior to warrior; be ready. Corax strained his hearing to listen for the first signs of the convoy's imminent approach, at the same time his mind raced through the battle plan. The Orc war band was deployed half on either side of the road, once the convoy had reached a designated spot between the two forces they would leap out from cover and rush the defenders before they could mount an organised defence, the Western and Eastern most members of the party would move in to the road to complete the encirclement and destroy the convoy in a tightening ring of steel and Orcish muscle. After what seemed like an eternity, Corax finally heard the sounds of the convoy approaching, the creaking of laden wagons and heavy footfalls of the beasts of burden as they dragged them along the road. Corax was filled with a heightened sense of things as he watched the convoy steadily traverse the road. He could almost taste the air of anticipation emanating from his fellow orcs, see their muscles tense as they gripped their weapons and hear their breath quicken as the convoy reached the mark. The second the convoy reached the designated spot; the orcs attacked. The tranquil peace of the forest was shattered by the roar which ripped from the throats of thirty orcs as they charged into battle. Panic reigned amongst the convoy at the sudden appearance of the war band; the cart drivers desperately tried to calm their panicked animals whilst the guards attempted to form a cohesive defence. Faster than seemed possible, the charging orcs were amongst the carts killing nearly half the guards in the opening minutes of the engagement through sheer speed and overwhelming power. Corax felt joyous power flow through his blood, as the red mist descended barrelling straight into a confused Sentinel, knocking her hard against the cart. The jarring impact knocked her weapon out of her hand and she could only stare in frozen horror as Corax's sword swung towards her head, severing it in one clean mighty stroke. Blood from the elves severed neck splashed across Corax's chest as her body crumpled to the ground. He rejoiced at the feel of the warm liquid as it trickled down his body, savouring the emotions it evoked within him. The remaining Sentinel guards had formed a tight defensive square around a cart at the centre of the convoy which was slowly being eroded by the savage attacks of the Orcs. Corax watched in rapt fascination as one by one the Sentinel guards were mercilessly cut down. As the last Sentinel fell the orcs rushed forward to see what treasure lay within the cart that the Sentinels had defended to the last. As the sheet covering the cart was ripped off Corax froze in shock at the sight of what lay within. Children! The Sentinel guards had died in a last desperate attempt to protect a group of children. The children began to scream at the sight of the wild eyed, blood soaked orcs. Corax was rooted to the spot in horror as his fellow warriors ruthlessly butchered the children where they lay. All feelings of joy and power drained from Corax as the dizzying heights of bloodlust gave way to the sheer, abject horror of what he was witnessing. His muscles were frozen solid; no matter how he tried he couldn't tear his gaze away from the sight that lay before him, even as every fragment of his being cried out against what he saw.
The rest of the events which took place that day passed by Corax in a featureless haze, he vaguely recalled the war band taking what supplies they could carry from the carts before abandoning them and returning to the Lumber Mill, leaving behind the grisly remains of their handiwork, to be found by the first traveller who happened upon them. Upon their return to the Lumber Mill they were greeted to jubilant cheers from the rest of the Clan, as the rest of the party proceeded to regale their fellows with the tale of the fight, embellishing it more and more with each telling. Corax felt nothing; he passed through the cheering throngs, completely oblivious to the congratulatory words and gestures of his comrades. When finally he was able to slip away from the masses, he went to his quarters and for the first and last time in his life, fell to the floor and wept.
In the days that followed the raid Corax never knew a moment's peace. At first he had tried to rationalise it. He knew first hand the dizzying heights of bloodlust, when all rational thought flew from the mind as it hungered for the thrill of combat. Yet this seemed a hollow reason, even to him this was the flimsiest of excuses for something which was so blatantly wrong. In the end he gave up trying to explain that which so undeniably went against the code of honour that Targ had drummed into him, wanting only to forget, but that was a fool's wish. When not out on patrol, he trained to exhaustion, honing his skills and achieving new heights of ability he had never dreamed of, all to no avail. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he trained, no matter how much he focused upon a single task, always he was haunted by the screams of dieing children. Equally as powerful as the revulsion at what he had seen, was the burning shame that he had done nothing to stop it. His mind alternated from sickened disgust at what he had seen to an almost painful sense of shame that he had stood by and let it happen. In the end unable to forget, unable to rationalise it he began to seek the release only death could provide. Whenever he engaged the Sentinels, he did so with a reckless abandon, uncaring of any wounds he received, yearning for the peace an honourable death in battle could provide. His wanton disregard for personal safety had a ripple effect. All the hours of training, honing his skills had made him supremely adept with a blade, combined with his utter lack of restraint in battle made him a deadly foe. His standing within the clan soared as his fellow warriors listened with ever increasing respect to the tales of those who had fought alongside him. Corax cared not for their admiration, ignoring their praise and the pleas of the younger warriors to share his skill with them.
Three months after the raid, the Sentinels re-paid the orcs. A lightning raid on a collection point, where the lumber was stored prior to being transported back to the Lumber Mill saw an entire months worth of lumber destroyed, twenty five orc warriors had died along with two dozen peons. Of course, this infuriated the Clan. 'Honour' demanded that the attack be repaid in kind. A force of fifty warriors was assembled. The target; an outpost to North of Silverwing Hold itself. The proximity of the outpost to the main base of the Sentinels did not worry the orc's overly much, trusting to the speed and brutality of their attack to overwhelm the defences, kill all the inhabitants and withdraw before any counter attack could be launched. As the sun set on the horizon the orc assault force moved out, covering the distance to the outpost rapidly, hunger for vengeance fuelling their steps. The forest was unnaturally quiet as the orc force arrived at the outpost, as if sensing the chaos which was about to erupt. Corax moved with his usual silent deadly grace, uncaring for the strategy that had been devised for the attack wishing only to lose himself in the blur of combat. He barely noticed as the rest of the force moved into position in the forest around him; every sense focused as he awaited the signal to begin the slaughter. Sooner than seemed possible, the signal was given and Corax charged straight into the outpost, all pre-tense of stealth or subtlety forgotten as he drew his sword searching for the first kill. A startled Sentinel emerged from one of the buildings ahead. Upon seeing the charging orc, she gave a yell of alarm and drew her sword. Corax ploughed into the Sentinel, beating aside her lunge and thundering his fist into the side of her head. The colossal power of the blow knocked the elf senseless allowing Corax to easily drive his sword into her chest. Before the body had even slumped to the ground, Corax had withdrawn his blade and charged on into the main building. Inside, a furious melee was underway as Sentinels and Orcs engaged in desperate struggle. Corax took the scene in at a glance, feeling his blood roar through his veins as he drank in the chaos of the combat. He moved rapidly through the main hall, completely ignored by the combatants as they focused every ounce of their concentration on the struggle. He heard sounds of combat coming from a side room and moved to investigate. Inside he found a fellow warrior locked in a losing battle against two Sentinels. Another orc laid on the floor in a pool of blood, clearly dead. With a bellow of rage, Corax surged forward to join the battle, blocking a sword thrust which, had it completed, would have impaled the battling orc on its tip. Realising the presence of a new threat, the Sentinel whose attack he had thwarted turned to face him. Corax launched a furious series of attacks which the Sentinel was barely able to parry, taking numerous minor cuts as she desperately fell back from his savage onslaught. Corax never gave the elf a moment to recover, launching blow after powerful relentlessly beating down the Sentinel's defences until, with a cry of triumph, he drove his sword into her ribs, impaling her heart on his blade. He then turned to assist his fellow orc only to find that his assistance was not needed, as the Sentinel lay dead at the other orcs feet. It was then that from the corner of the room Corax heard a familiar sound which chilled his soul. He watched in muted shock as the other orc moved across the room to pull back a silk curtain to reveal an Elven child, eyes wide in terror as it screamed. Time seemed to slow as, before his eyes, his fellow orc began to draw back his sword, clearly intending to kill the child. A thousand thoughts flashed threw Corax's mind in a heartbeat, as the code of honour in which he believed with every fibre of his being warred with the fierce loyalty he felt to his race. His desire to redeem himself in his own eyes and the eyes of the universe battled with the chilling reality of what he would have to do in order to achieve redemption. As his kinsman's sword arm drew back its full length and began to sail towards the child, Corax made his decision. With a speed he had never believed himself capable of he launched himself across the room and drove his sword to the hilt into the orcs back, his mind filled with a cold dread at what he had just done, but at the same time a pride in knowing that it was the right thing to do.
Corax's eyes were filled with sadness as he recalled that night. After killing his kinsman he had gathered the child up and fled into the night, utilising the chaos of the battle to slip away unnoticed and every ounce of skill he possessed not to leave any trail which could be followed. He remembered heading towards Astranaar and depositing the child a short distance from the bridge leading into the town, taking pains to ensure the guards saw him and would find the child, before slipping away into the forest. He knew that he could never return to his clan; in his desperate flight from the scene of his crime, he had forgotten to pick up his blade. Every last warrior in the clan knew that it was his blade and would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had killed one of his own. He was doomed to the life of an exile, his only comfort; knowing that he had done the right thing. He knew this with complete certainty as at last, finally he was no longer haunted by the screams of dieing children.