Post by Hellscream on Apr 17, 2024 16:06:40 GMT
The throne sits in the center of the room – a mixture of blades and enormous teeth angled upward lining the edge of the throne…Hellscream sits atop the throne, running a grindstone across the edge of Gorehowl, his weapon of choice, but he sneers and snarls, becoming more aggressive with every passing.
“I have brought DISHONOR to my people!” Hellscream says with disdain dripping off his tongue.
He looks ahead where his advisors stand with their hands behind their backs, and narrows his eyes as he can feel the judgment in their gaze.
“OUT WITH IT!” Hellscream bellows.
One advisor bravely steps forward, but doesn’t move his arms. Lowering his head as if to bow to his leader, he says, “It was a hard fight, and you were able to walk out alive… Perhaps you should just prepare for the next combatant.”
Mumbling under his breath, Hellscream bares his fangs at the advisor who cowers back in fear, knowing that the Warchief is just as likely to take his vengeance out on him. However, Hellscream bites his tongue, and with a low rumbling growl in his throat he finally answers, “Yes…” Hellscream agrees, “Yes, I will punish this– RAM– for this travesty! I really did have fun with that demon, even if it did end in defeat, but this RAM– this puny, pathetic being… DOES HE BELIEVE HE CAN GIVE ME THE FIGHT THAT I CRAVE?! He had better be ready. Because I am going to unleash the full WRATH OF THE HORDE against him! I am going to make an example out of him! I am going to rip him limb from limb, and rip flesh from bone! He is going to… BEG me for MERCY, and I am going to deny him. I am going to break him in front of his kind.” The determination and ferocity matches the tone that would be expected of the Warchief.
The frustration he felt in defeat resided just as well in his tone, but he masked the humiliation well.
“I will not be made a fool again!” Hellscream stands up from the throne, and points to one of the advisors, “READY THE WOLVES! We go to – AMSTERDAM! And we don’t leave without RAM’S BLOOD! LOK’TAR OGAR!”
The advisor nods, and departs from the throne room without hesitation. The Warchief boldly steps down each of the steps leading up to his throne, gripping Gorehowl so tightly that his hand trembles over the hilt. The ground beneath him gives a slight quake from every step, and he walks toward the camera ahead before finally coming too close and the scenery fades to black.
“I have brought DISHONOR to my people!” Hellscream says with disdain dripping off his tongue.
He looks ahead where his advisors stand with their hands behind their backs, and narrows his eyes as he can feel the judgment in their gaze.
“OUT WITH IT!” Hellscream bellows.
One advisor bravely steps forward, but doesn’t move his arms. Lowering his head as if to bow to his leader, he says, “It was a hard fight, and you were able to walk out alive… Perhaps you should just prepare for the next combatant.”
Mumbling under his breath, Hellscream bares his fangs at the advisor who cowers back in fear, knowing that the Warchief is just as likely to take his vengeance out on him. However, Hellscream bites his tongue, and with a low rumbling growl in his throat he finally answers, “Yes…” Hellscream agrees, “Yes, I will punish this– RAM– for this travesty! I really did have fun with that demon, even if it did end in defeat, but this RAM– this puny, pathetic being… DOES HE BELIEVE HE CAN GIVE ME THE FIGHT THAT I CRAVE?! He had better be ready. Because I am going to unleash the full WRATH OF THE HORDE against him! I am going to make an example out of him! I am going to rip him limb from limb, and rip flesh from bone! He is going to… BEG me for MERCY, and I am going to deny him. I am going to break him in front of his kind.” The determination and ferocity matches the tone that would be expected of the Warchief.
The frustration he felt in defeat resided just as well in his tone, but he masked the humiliation well.
“I will not be made a fool again!” Hellscream stands up from the throne, and points to one of the advisors, “READY THE WOLVES! We go to – AMSTERDAM! And we don’t leave without RAM’S BLOOD! LOK’TAR OGAR!”
The advisor nods, and departs from the throne room without hesitation. The Warchief boldly steps down each of the steps leading up to his throne, gripping Gorehowl so tightly that his hand trembles over the hilt. The ground beneath him gives a slight quake from every step, and he walks toward the camera ahead before finally coming too close and the scenery fades to black.
Well howdy there pardner.