Chapter 3
A year and a half later, I had grown much, and by then I commanded fire itself in the forms of totem and spell. I had long since learned the values of knowledge, and I wished I would have paid more attention in school. The long, ardorous days of fighting in Durotar had taught me much, however, and I had become an apprentice of the trade of herbalism. Herbs could be sold for gold, which could be used for weapons, which could be used for the Horde. It was finally time for me to leave the familiar grounds of Durotar and head to the stretching desert known as the Barrens, this time for good (I had to go to the Barrens to master fire, but I made my time there short)... or at least until I was strong enough to venture out into Ashenvale, or maybe Stonetalon. However, in the spirit of training, I headed out into the Barrens. I got a bad vibe from that place; I still do, and try to avoid it to this day... however, orcs, trolls and tauren at my strength were expected to make our way to the Barrens, and increase our stamina through experience in the searing heat. Though Durotar and the Valley of Trials were clayborn, rocky land without much shade, it was not particularly hot; however, the Barrens were a different story altogether, though it taught me many things. The first thing I noticed was that the monsters were stronger here; though it was clear that they possessed only my level of strength, their skills in fighting were better than the skill of the beasts in Durotar. What's an orc to do, neh? I merely bit in and took the wounds, working on to slay the beasts. Most monsters in the Barrens are actually not 'monsters' at all, per se, but instead mostly four-legged beasts; the tough zevhra, the cunning hyena, and the vicious crocolisk. I was always watching my back for these, and more intently for a more powerful enemy: the raptor. Though they walk on two legs, this doesn't mean that they are weaker than the four-legged beasts; on the contrary, now there were two more deadly weapons the Barrens could use against me. I learned to go about my business and missions quickly; the Barrens' sun will burn into your back, and weaken your soul. Needless to say, I was beside myself (in glee, and in rage) when I found a safe haven: Ratchet. It's a moderately sized goblin trade post, with shade and inns (glee), but it's also responsible for letting many Alliance men into our country (pure rage). The ships from Ratchet come from and to Booty Bay, a far larger goblin post, and Booty Bay has two ship routes... one to Ratchet, and one to Alliance territory (I'd never been there, so I couldn't have named the city). Many humans and draenei (my hatred for them had grown even more that year) came from their shores to ours, to slay and kill honorable and innocent Hordesmen. I walked away from Ratchet in a huff after learning this, and headed northeast to the Crossroads, and then west, to the Wailing Caverns (I organized a group first, of course, I had learned earlier that dungeons cannot be done by an individual of my strength alone). Our group had a sacred mission: to purify the cursed druids within the caverns in the only way possible...death (I must admit, I took pleasure from killing the druids, which were nightelves), and to finally end the curse over the Caverns. Over a long series of challenges, we slew all of the druids, and cut down Verdan the Everliving, a gigantic bog monster... but who would we be to truly awaken the Dreamer? That would be treason, to let the elf live. These are but a few of the experiences I had in the Barrens, but the lessons learned were of stamina and speed, both of which the survivors of the Barrens all learned. It was another milestone on my journey to become a Farseer. However, a very important thing was also to happen in my time of the Barrens; on one of my brief leaves from the Barrens to go to the capital city, the spirits inclined me to create a guild. Though I do not consider myself much of a leader(asking for power is the essence of the shaman... we request lightning and fire to bend, and we recieve as long as we humble ourselves), I followed this call. The name revealed to me made me gasp to myself; I was to name the guild the Lightning Blade Clan.It was a tough job, rallying people with my cries of glory and battle with the Clan, but I got fifteen people the first day to join me. Most notably was Cheatoh, a good guy and a stolid fighter. We bounced around in the numbers for a bit, but when things went bad Cheatoh and I held up a steady income of members. Along this period of time, we established a firm friendship, strengthened over time by constantly raiding the Wailing Caverns, slaying the seemingly endless druids. We even ran around in Ashenvale for a bit, fearless of the Alliance, confident in our combined strength. It was a very good time, and we had a lot of fun… but my times of innocence would not last.[Level 17