The Journal of Mal’koreth Cinderstorm
Records from Valley of Trials and Razor Hill training
Entry 1 – Fifth Moon, Final Days of Summer
Arrived at the Valley of Trials today. The irony isn’t lost on me – here I am, a grown orc with decades of violence behind him, standing among whelps barely old enough to hold an axe properly.
The training sergeant, a grizzled veteran named Gornek, looked me up and down when I presented my recruitment token. “Bit old to be starting fresh, aren’t you?”
If only he knew.
I told him the story I’d prepared – a hermit shaman from the deep desert, finally ready to serve the Horde. Not entirely a lie. He assigned me to the same trials as the younglings, despite my protests. “Everyone starts the same,” he growled. “Horde doesn’t care what you were before.”
We’ll see about that.
The other recruits are… pitifully eager. They speak of honor and glory like children reciting lessons they don’t understand. One, a young orc female named Vasha, actually asked me about “the spirits” after seeing my totem collection. I nearly laughed. If she knew what my spirits whispered about, what they hungered for, she’d run screaming back to whatever farm spawned her.
But I played the wise elder, spoke vaguely about “listening to the elements” and “finding balance.” The words taste like ash, but they bought me acceptance. For now.
Entry 2 – Sixth Moon, Early Autumn
The trials continue. Today we faced the Sarkoth – a massive scorpion that’s apparently been terrorizing the valley for months. The other recruits approached it like a test of courage, charging in with war cries and clumsy swings.
I took a different approach.
While they distracted the creature, I reached out to the earth beneath it. Just a small tremor – nothing that would be noticed among the chaos of combat. The scorpion stumbled, off-balance for just a moment. Vasha’s axe found its mark cleanly.
She thinks she struck the killing blow through skill and luck. The others cheer her victory. Gornek nods approvingly at our “teamwork.”
None of them realize I could have opened a chasm beneath the beast and swallowed it whole. But that’s not what they want to see. They want to see an orc learning to fight alongside his brothers and sisters. So that’s what I show them.
The deception comes easier than expected. Perhaps because, for the first time, I’m using my abilities to help others succeed rather than ensuring their failure.
Strange.
Entry 3 – Sixth Moon, Mid-Autumn
Combat training with Lieutenant Doren today. He’s teaching us formation fighting – how to move as a unit, cover each other’s flanks, coordinate strikes. Basic tactics I learned to exploit during my bandit years.
But experiencing them from the inside is… different.
When young Khral stumbled during the shield wall exercise, I found myself automatically shifting to cover the gap his mistake created. Not because I was ordered to, but because leaving him exposed would have compromised the entire formation. The instructor praised our “instinctive unity.”
Instinctive. As if I didn’t have to consciously suppress the urge to let the weakness reveal itself, let natural selection take its course.
After training, Vasha approached me again. This time she brought others – Khral, a troll rogue named Zenjin, even a Forsaken mage called Morteus who rarely speaks. They wanted to hear “wisdom from the desert.”
I found myself talking about survival. Real survival – not the predatory kind I once practiced, but the kind that comes from understanding your environment, respecting the dangers, adapting to circumstances beyond your control. They listened with the intensity of students before a master.
When did I become someone worth learning from? When did their survival start mattering to me?
Entry 4 – Sixth Moon, Late Autumn
We’ve been transferred to Razor Hill for advanced training. Sergeant Akama is less patient than Gornek, more demanding. Good. The younglings need to be pushed harder if they’re going to survive what’s coming.
War drums echo across Durotar. Word spreads of conflicts in distant lands – Stranglethorn, the Barrens, whispers of something stirring across the continent. The Horde mobilizes, and we raw recruits watch the veterans march out with a mixture of envy and trepidation.
Morteus approached me tonight while I was maintaining my totems. “You’re not what you pretend to be,” he said quietly. Death has given the Forsaken an uncomfortable ability to see through facades.
I waited for the threat, the demand for truth, the blackmail attempt. Instead, he simply nodded. “None of us are. But we’re becoming what we need to be.”
Perceptive, for a corpse. He’s right, though. The person I was in the desert – that calculating predator who saw other people as resources to be exploited – that orc is dying. In his place, something else grows. Something I don’t fully understand yet.
The elements still whisper to me of destruction. But now they also speak of protection. Of the strength that comes not from standing alone, but from being part of something larger than yourself.
Entry 5 – Seventh Moon, Early Winter
Final trials today. A live combat exercise against invading Northwatch marines – Alliance soldiers who’ve been raiding supply lines. Real enemies, real stakes.
I watched Vasha hesitate before her first kill. Saw Khral freeze when his opponent’s blood splattered across his face. Witnessed Zenjin struggle with the difference between training and actual murder.
I felt… protective. These aren’t prey or rivals or obstacles to be removed. They’re my unit. My responsibility.
When a marine emerged from a blind corner and charged toward the stunned younglings, I didn’t think. Earth spikes erupted from the ground, impaling him mid-stride. Clean. Efficient. Lethal.
Sergeant Akama stared at the display for a long moment. “Impressive shamanic work, recruit. Where did you learn combat applications like that?”
“The desert teaches harsh lessons, Sergeant.”
He nodded, but his eyes held questions. I suspect my background won’t remain secret much longer. But maybe that’s acceptable now. Maybe I’ve proven myself worthy of trust.
After the exercise, Vasha found me sharpening my axe. “Thank you,” she said simply. “For watching over us.”
I wanted to tell her that I was a killer long before I was a protector. That the spirits I commune with have tasted the blood of innocents. That everything she thinks she knows about honor and righteousness would crumble if she knew what I really am.
Instead, I just nodded. “We protect each other. That’s what it means to be Horde.”
And for the first time in my life, I think I actually believe that.
Entry 6 – Seventh Moon, Mid-Winter
Graduation ceremony tomorrow. We’ll receive our assignments and be sent to our first real postings. The younglings are excited, nervous, ready to prove themselves in the wider world.
I’ve been assigned to the Silverpine Front – apparently my “desert survival expertise” and “advanced shamanic abilities” make me suitable for unconventional warfare operations. If they only knew how unconventional.
But that’s the past now. The bandit who used earthquakes and floods to murder travelers for coin – he’s dead and buried in the sands of Desolace. What emerged from the Valley of Trials is something new. Still dangerous, still capable of terrible violence, but violence with purpose. Violence in service to something greater.
Tonight I said farewell to my unit. Vasha has been assigned to Ashenvale. Khral goes to the Barrens. Zenjin will serve in Stranglethorn. Morteus heads across the sea with me to the Undercity. We may never see each other again.
Strange how much that possibility bothers me. When did I start caring whether these people lived or died? When did their success become more important than my own advantage?
Perhaps that’s what the Horde really offers – not just purpose, but transformation. The chance to become something more than what you were.
The elements whisper of great changes coming to the world. Wars that will reshape nations, conflicts that will test every bond of loyalty and brotherhood. Whatever comes, I’ll face it not as a solitary predator, but as part of something larger.
The Valley of Trials has made me Horde. Now it remains to be seen what the Horde will make of me.
[End of training journal. Next entries begin “Silverpine Campaign – First Assignment”]
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