The fall of Arioch, The rise of Dethich

((OOC Arioch was my original character, but due to account hacking, I lost him. Eventually I'll pull him out of hiding, more than likely as a Death Knight. So this is a revised story, which will eventually lead into how Dethich came about. hope you enjoy. The story was also made pre WOTLK))


“Who am I?” he asked the darkness. A faint dripping of water echoed throughout the cavern, fueling his insanity. He stared around, only to see an eternity of shadows. Shadows which threatened to consume his very existence. He paced back and forth within his natural prison, speaking to himself yet again.

“How long has it been?”

“Why am I here?”

“Where am I?”

“WHO AM I?” he screeched, only to be met once again with his echo. Laughing, he stumbled drunkenly towards the cavern's spring. That wondrously, maddening spring, providing the only other sounds for him, within his world of everlasting night. Once at the spring he greedily lapped up the water, gorging himself, until he became nauseated, vomiting at his feet. He cackled and continued his pacing in the solitude. Guiding himself with his hands he navigated towards a wall. Gently caressing it, he felt for what he was searching for. His calendar. Lines marked what felt like a day to him. Although he had lost track long ago.

Stifling another laugh, he turned, to pace once again in his veritable prison. Then he heard a noise, unmistakable to his ears. A rat, scurrying within his dark domain. Seeking the rodent by sound, he lunged for it, grasping it in his hands. How he knew its location was unknown to him, it was a sense. Feeling the furry creature's heartbeat quicken, he brought it close to his face so he could smell it. With a swift, vigorous bite, he clamped his teeth over the rat’s head, severing it. Chewing slowly, this prisoner consumed the rat raw, savoring every bite.

Once done eating, he resumed his pacing. Suddenly he stopped, giving off a strangled cry of rage and despair, before he sprinted towards a wall. Diving headfirst into the stones. Stars, flashed into his eyes and warm blood trickled down his face. He smiled before he was embraced by the peace of unconsciousness.

Once forgotten memories flooded into his mind. Sorrow, rage and pain welled inside him. He whimpered and twitched upon the damp cave floor. Suddenly a voice trespassed upon the sanctity of his dreams. His body becomes frigid and the darkness swells deeper.

“I am Grom Hellscream. I have come to end your suffering and lead you to your true fate. Know then that you are Arioch, spawn of a Chaos Orc, and the prophesied warhead of the Horde. You will soon fulfill your destiny in the eradication of our enemies, the alliance, the scourge and the accursed Demons. But first you must attain more power.”

Just as quickly as the voice arrived, it vanished. The mental boundaries set upon Arioch's mind crumbled. With a shout of anguish he awakens, his body began to quake as Arioch harnessed his Bloodfury. Memories flashed before his eyes, not his own. A grizzled and aged shaman, training him brutally. Gripping his head Arioch gives an almost demonic yell of pain, as these dreams take over.

The shaman spoke, his cold eyes glittering. “For each generation there is one much attuned with the Fel. I am the chosen one of this generation. Ner'zul was the chosen one of the past… and you are the next. We are gifted with a far greater grasp of the demonic than most. And because of this we must train vigorously, lest we become consumed and controlled by it. A great task is weighed upon your shoulders. Do you understand warrior?”

Arioch bowed his head low in respect. “Dabu.”

“You are a tainted Orc, never forget this, you are gifted, yet cursed. You mustn't let this power consume you. You must learn to harness it.”

“Dabu”

“Look at me.”

Hesitantly, Arioch raised his eyes to look his master in the eyes. The shaman's face hardened as he slowly drew out his words. “You are weak, lacking the ability to control your potential, disgusting. Leave my sight, and continue with your studies, before I end your existence.”

“NO.” something took hold of Arioch. The Fury within him strained to be unleashed.

“Don’t do it…” the shaman's voice tinged with panic.

It was too late. Arioch already gave into the rage. A fel aura surrounded him as the horrified Shaman looked on. One word was spoken by him, before Arioch's axe sunk deep into his former masters skull. "Blank"

The memory vanished, and Arioch found himself once again in the cavern. “I remember it all now.” He spoke calmly, reassured of his existence. A sound of shifting stone reverberated within the cavern as an exit opened, “Ah visitors.” Rising to his feet, he went to greet whoever freed him and his Fury.

Smiling he said his name “Arioch” and continued.
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For the first time in months there was light in his prison. Arioch flinched in pain and scurried into the darkest corner of the cave. Slowly he became accustomed with the light, although it still sent lances of pain into his single working eye.

"Arioch mon, it be me, ya brudda Kinsman. we finally found ya. Praise be to Hakkar." spoke a troll, one of the two figures. Tall, blueskinned, with a seemingly triumphent crown of a mowhawk perched upon his long tusked head. A proud trollish warrior (Although a follower of the Soulflayer, Hakkar) and a close friend to Arioch.

Creeping from the darkened corner of the cave, he stumbled towards the light, where the troll stood.

Arioch was quite a sight, to behold. It was evident as he peered into the stunned eyes of the duo. He was pale green, blotched and bloodied in the face, his skin had a sickly translucence to it. You could see the blue/green veins coursing underneath. He was muscular and fit, yet covered in layers of filth. With his white unkempt hair and wild beard he was reminiscent of a feral Orc. Scars crisscrossed his entire body; even the right side of his face had a vicious scar that went covered his eye, which had since been rendered useless. Not to mention he smelt worse than the rear of a Tanaris Ogre.

The shock was overcome with concern, as the other figure spoke in a gritty gurgle. “Your an uglier beast than before, What happened to you?” This was an undead mage known only as Hattrick, trained in the arts of the flame. Face hidden by a hood and body cloaked in elemental fires, truely a fearsome sight.

Before Arioch could respond a voice echoed in the distance. "Aye mates, lookey 'ere what we ave'. Willing combatants for the arena. Looks like we're in for a show tonight! WAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Peering beyond his two allies, he saw the formidable Gurubashi arena, tangled roots climbing the walls and stands, where dozens of pirates looked on with malevolent joy. Then his heart sank as he noticed them...

Three Alliance stalked their way towards their unwary prey. A human priest, a gnome rogue and a nightelf hunter. All smiling victoriously, and yelling gibberish at them. The gnome was the first to draw his weapons, two wicked blades glinting in the sun.

Seeing the look in Arioch's eyes, Hattrick spun around bellowing an incantation with one hand stretched before him. Arioch watched as the Human was engulfed in a flaming aura. In mere seconds she is upon the floor spasming, slowly burning from the inside out. Halting the momentum of the alliance.

Cursing his luck Kinsman looked down Arioch, dropping a sword onto the ground, "Ey bruddah, ya got a welcomin party fo ya. I and I hope ya can fight wit da same nastiness ya be lookin." Then he to turned and charged into the the alliance "FOR HAKKAR!" Sinking his mithril knuckled gloves into the face of the Gnome, as he fluidly drove his fist into the rogues temple. Ending his life with a wet thud. Kinsman grinned mercilessly.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, Arioch scooped up the aged and rusty sword. Quickly glancing over it before his eyes became tinged red. Letting loose a beastial roar, Arioch too, charged into the fray. Intercepting the night elf hunter, slamming him into the ground. Stopping him before he could let loose an arrow into Hattrick. Arioch, gave into his raging bloodlust, becoming unawares of the fighting around him, as he again and again, plunged the sword into the already limp body of the Nightelf. It was a gruesome scene, yet span eternities. A voice snapped him from his fury. It was Kinsman shoving him off the nightelf, "EY MON, IT BE DONE. YA GWAN STOP ALREADY!" Arioch slumps to the ground and stares at the blue sky amongst the trees, before his world turns black.

Swimming in the eternal realms of his Subconscious Arioch heard the voice Grom Hellscream.

"You are one of the chosen one Arioch. it is your destiny help strengthen the Horde. But there is a Darkness in you growing much too strong. Be wary."

Then another voice permeated through the shreds of his mind. "I am Blank Felblade... your destiny is to become a Felsworn warrior. And bring Azeroth to its knees."
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Arioch's eyes fluttered open as he took in his environment. Trees, bushes, moss, grass, and it was all moving by him. Then he became aware of his situation.
"I am still naked..."
The movement of his surroundings came to a abrupt stop. "If you can talk, you can walk. Good. Because I grow wary of dragging you. I am no mount." Spoke Hattrick, the ever menacing magi. "Are you going to get up..." More of a statement than a question.

With a labored grunt, Arioch rose to his feet and stared at his companions. "What happened to me?"

Kinsman grinned, "I and I can tell ya da likkle bit I know brudda. Ya vanished awhiles back and gwan got caught up wit some wicked Juju, wit spyin Caverns o Time out dere in Tanaris. Afta ya vanished on me an Hattrick. Dat done happen months ago."

Suddenly it fell into place. Arioch remembered that he was studying the Caverns of time in Tanaris, for he heard tales of it housing portals of ancient magic, created by the mighty bronze dragonflight themselves. But it all went wrong as he tried to sneak into a forbidden gateway, said to transport him to Stratholme of the past. There he had intended to gain knowledge of Arthas's acension into a Deathknight. And how to somehow receive that power for himself. So he can feed his Tainted Orc blood by giving it what it desired. More power. But all went wrong as he stepped into the swirling portal. For what he did not know, was the Dragonflight were not yet strong enough at the time to create the gateway. Instead it was chaotic myriad of the past, and present, infused by wild arcs of energy. Energy which bombarded Arioch, charging through his body, and tearing his mind apart. In a desperate attempt to survive, Arioch strained towards a shred of reality hanging in the chaotic magic. Grasping at the very fabrics of time Arioch was flung into Icecrown Citadel of Northrend. Where he stared at the throne of the Lich King.

A madman's laughter echoed in his mind, and Arioch's body convulsed in pain, as he fell backwards to the floor. The laughter ended, replaced by a cold, hateful Voice. Screaming its words into his mind. "SO THIS IS YOUR SELF MADE PURGATORY. YOUR GUILT, THE ANGUISH YOU HOLD. YOUR WRATH, YOUR FEARS, ALL LOCKED AWAY INSIDE OF YOU. YET YOU ARE BLIND AND MUTE. YOU ARE NOT EVIL… BUT YOU DESIRE POWER… THIS WEAKNESS HAS ALLOWED ME ENTRANCE INTO THE SANCTITY OF YOUR SOUL.”

Arioch struggled to speak, but was unable. However, the voice could, “IMPRISONED IN YOUR OWN SELF, YOU WISH TO FIND A CALLING, A MEANS TO REPENT. YET YOU HAVE FOUND NONE…MORTAL YOUR ESSENCE IS AN OPEN BOOK, ALL THE EVILS OF THE WORLD SEEM TO SWELL WITHIN YOU… YET YOU STILL LIVE. WHY?.”

A darkness swarmed into Arioch's vision, it was a deeply shadowed figure standing over him, eyes a fiery green. “SOON YOU WILL NOT ONLY SPEAK AND SEE EVIL, BUT WILL YOU BECOME. AND I WILL MAKE A HOME IN YOUR PURGATORY. YOUR RAGE IS INVITING! WAKE UP ORC, OUR TALK IS OVER. I WILL CREATE, YOUR TRUE SELF.” The shadow grasped Arioch and lifted him into the air, which swirled around them in restraining darkness. All at once, the world fell silent, his body became limp and he could not tear his gaze away from the burning eyes of the shadow. It spoke once again, in a lower tone, "YOU BELONG TO ME NOW ORC." Arioch's mind was bombarded with oppressive laughter. As his vision blurred away into nothingness, he fell into a comatose state. Waking some time later, imprisoned in the lower dungeons of Gurubashi arena.

As if to intrude upon his deep thought, Kinsman tossed a bag onto his lap. "Yah might wanna go an clad youse'self in dis ere clothin. I and I took de liberty o' takin dem purty armors from dem Alliance out back in Gurubashi. Besides we be at de town bruddah, you no gwan impress dem ladies all nekkid an such."
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A bustling town of commerce, greed, deciet and debauchery. None other than the pirate town of Booty Bay. Arioch entered the city limits, along with Kinsman and Hattrick. Nausea engulfed him, as his mind was assaulted by the life energy of the city's inhabitants. It's been much too long since he has been around society. Though not long enough to miss out on a good drink. After breathing deep the sea air. He headed to the notorious Salty Sailor Tavern. Knowing what must be done, they needed a ship to return to Tanaris.

The trio Barreled through the swinging doors of a nearby bar, it stank of rank sweat, fetid food and booze. Kinsman gave a slow intimidating stare at its inhabitants. Eyeing a potential target he moved foward, practically gliding to the unwary sailor. Stepping next to him Kinsman moved swiftly, yanking the goblin sailor to his feet and grasping him by the throat, his legs dangling in the air.
"Eh mon, we gwan need a ship... now!" Kinsman growled.

Wildly flailing and gasping for breath the sailor was heaved back into his seat. Pouncing upon him, Kinsman drew his crossbow centering the bolt between the eyes of the goblin.

Hattrick grinned, "Our payment is that we do not kill you, agreed...?" terror engulfed the sailors eyes as he stared at him. "Actually, let me prove to you how serious I am." Pushing the sailor further into his seat Hattrick turned to the now silent crowd in the tavern. A mixed group of Alliance, Neutrals and Horde.
"I am the reaper... and your time has come", a mad grin crept to his face and he leapt into the crowd.

Harnessing the power of the arcane Hattrick sent off torrents of energy. Flinging tables, chairs and people throughout the bar, all the while sprinting in a madcap dance of death. Bones tore from bodies, skin melted, wood splintered and metal groaned. Amidst the chaos stood Hattrick smiling at the cowering sailor who long since soiled himself. The noise died away as the lives perished, and with one final bone chilling scream of agony, and a wet plop of a body landing in the corner, the bar fell silent. Causing the sailor to soil himself once again.

"So ya gwan accept ma friends offa, ya undastan'" Kinsman calmly said. The sailor uttered a pitiful moan and nodded.
"Now get us off this dock."

Moments later the trio boarded the rickety ship belonging to the sailor. Starting the goblin generators, the sailor's ship known as Blue Moon sputtered to life.
Once out of the reach of booty bay, Arioch asked the goblin, "What is your name?"
"Enric Torque" he responded fearfully

"Well, Enric if I may be so bold, where do you store your journals and maps"
Glancing behind him he pointed at a sealed room."Everything is in there."

"Excellent" Arioch scanned the ships internal control panel, "Oh, you wouldn't be needing this, I wouldn't want you making a mistake that could cost you your life", laughing dryly Arioch smashed his fist into the Goblin communications system, before he stepped into the storage area. Once inside he looked at the ragged array of maps, charts and journals. Arioch's mind set itself into motion. anf he grumbled "Now time to set a course."