The sun was rising high in the sky as a large Orc walked out of the Ratchet Port Authority detention centre. His night in the cells had been extended to a week after resisting arrest and spitting at his captors. The blood craze was beginning to take effect once again and with his latest victims probably now dead due to a combination of blood loss, starvation and heat stroke he knew he would have to go out and find fresh meat to quench his thirst. Mounting up on his wolf, he headed straight for the north, to the border of the Barrens and Ashenvale.
Passing the guards without as much as a grunt, Gurfang dug his spurs into the wolf's side, hurrying him on. He passed his usual hunting grounds of the Silverwing Outpost and moved on over the river, deeper into Night Elf territory. His eyes were flashing scarlet and his skin was a distinct combination of red and green as the crazed Orc continued on until he was within viewing distance of the bridge into Astranaar.
Dismounting, Gurfang pulled out his axes and drew near to the edge of the water surrounding the Elven settlement. There was only one guard which meant that another was due to be arriving soon, he had to work fast. Dropping into the water as qietly as possible, Gurfang crossed over to the other side and got out on to the bank. He looked around and then charged.
It was all over in seconds as Gurfang's lust for blood drove him into a frenzy. His first strike drove an axe down between the guard's neck and shoulder. Spinning around, she found the second axe embedded firmly in her gut and then the world went dark as Gurfang twisted her neck, snapping her spinal cord.
Immediately dragging the body down to the water's edge, the Orc immediately removed both axes and then bit down, hard, on the wound on the corpse's neck and drank deeply. Then he heard a cry of disgust and looked up. The guard's colleague had turned up and seen him!
"He's here! He's here! The eater of our people is here!" she cried, and with that she drew her sword and charged.
Gurfang roared in pleasure as his next foe came at him and picked up his axes to meet her. Ducking her first swing, he swung low with his left hand and went straight through her knee. Turning back to see her fall, he then swung his right hand and smiled with satisfaction as the axe cracked through skin and bone, splitting her skull in two.
By now, the town guard had been fully alerted and there were three defenders running his way. It was now or never if he were to escape.
But the Orc grinned in delight, the craze clearly taking over where more rational thoughts should have prevailed. Removing his axe from the head of his latest victim, Gurfang ran to meet his foes. A glancing blow on the first, a clear miss at the second and a large chunk of head removed from the third left two still able-bodied attackers. Gurfang was not without injury either, either a large gash to his forehead where the first of his attackers had knocked off his helm and the second had struck in the same way. Blood was trickling down his cheek. Licking it, it only enraged him further and he charged again. Blocking the first attack against him and kicking her to the ground, Gurfang dodged under a high sword swing and brought both axe blades together, meeting in the middle of the Elf's stomach. With no time to savour yet another dead Elf, Gurfang spun around in time to find an Elven blade skewer his ribs. He was shocked at first, but his craze for blood took over almost straight away and the Orc grabbed the blade and snapped it at the hilt. He then dropped the axe in his left hand and took hold of the startled Night Elf by the throat and proceeded to pull the blade from his chest before ramming it firmly through the throat of his captive.
Gurfang picked up his axe and looked about. Three more guards were on their way to him. Suddenly he coughed. A bright red blob appeared on the ground in front of him. Realising his peril, the Orc put both his axes back in his belt and reached for the large war axe on his back. Pulling it out, he swung it once and then looked towards the guards and roared again, and then they were upon him.
He brought the base of the handle firmly into the gut of the first guard and dropped her by bringing his elbow to the back of her head. The second guard swung and missed, allowing Gurfang the chance to spin around her. This brought him spinning, and swinging, towards the third guard. His axe was sharp and high, coming straight down at the Elf’s neck. Before she could move to deflect it she was bisected from collar bone to hip.
Returning to the two remaining guards, the first one was still lying on the floor but the second one was readying for another attack. Gurfang charged. The Elf’s first attack was high and easy to dodge but her second quickly followed the first and found her blade lodged in the armour on the Orc’s left arm. Gurfang smashed the blade with his axe and hit the Elf in the chin with the handle, knocking her to the floor, face first. He then swung with all his might and there was a sickening crunch of metal and bone as the axe went first through her armour, then skin and bone before becoming lodged in the ground.
With no time to pull it out, Gurfang pulled his shield from his back and placed it on his injured left arm. He then drew one his smaller axes and charged at the last of the guards, who was just getting back to his feet. Turning to face the Orc, the Elf had fear etched all over her face as she saw the clearly Fel-infected Orc coming straight for her. But there was nothing that she could do as she was knocked clean off her feet by the Gurfang as he hit her body with his shield, slamming her to the ground once again. As she looked back up at him, groggily, she saw the edge of the shield coming down straight for her head and then she saw no more.
Standing back up, Gurfang looked around at the carnage. With eight Elven bodies on the ground, he was happy with his work. Suddenly there was a scream behind him, followed by a stinging sensation in his lower back. Spinning around, he saw a young Night Elf boy standing with a small knife in his hand and a trickle of bright read blood on the blade. Gurfang dropped his axe and grabbed the boy by the head, picked him up and marched him in the direction of where the scream had come from. Hiding inside a small house, the boys mother was cowering in fear as the huge Orc walked straight in. Kicking her on to her back, Gurfang proceeded to smash the boy’s face into the floor beside her. Her shrieks causing him to roar as he turned the head to a bloody pulp. Looking the Elf woman, he was about to attack her when he heard a cry from outside. Turning around, he walked out to see what was happening. He was greeted by five heavily armoured Sentinels, fresh from Darnassus, each armed with a deadly-looking polearm.
Gurfang assessed the situation. His armour was cracked in places and in no fit state to take on a couple of these guards, let alone five. However they were blocking his way out, he had to fight. Pulling his arm back, he hurled his axe at the nearest of the guards. The axe struck right in the eye hole of the helmet and the Sentinel dropped to the floor, blood gushing from the mortal wound. The remaining four immediately lowered their spears and made ready for battle.
Blood dripped from the wound on his head, he was breathing heavily due to already fighting and having a deep wound in his chest and Gurfang couldn’t have felt more alive. Adrenalin was coursing through his veins, he roared in defiance at his enemies and charged at the nearest of them.
Swatting the polearm to one side, Gurfang swung his axe at the only place lacking in total armour covering, between the legs. A guttural scream came from the Sentinel as his blade cleaved through flesh and became wedged in her pelvis.
Turning around to the others, the Orc felt a sharp pain in both shoulders. Looking down and then ahead he saw that two of the guards had stabbed him with their spears and were now driving him back against the wall of the nearest building. Gurfang dug his heels in and, despite the pain it brought him, stopped them from going any further. He then grabbed the polearms just below the head and slowly removed himself from them. The Sentinels pushed again, but Gurfang pushed the blades down and to his side and then let go, causing the elves to run straight towards him. He met them both with a gauntleted fist. He then looked up to find the last of them, but she found him first and planted her spear firmly in his gut.
Gurfang staggered and then fell to his knees. Weakened by the blood loss and the number of wounds, his eyes seemed to glaze over as the Sentinel removed her weapon from the Orc. Dropping it to the floor she drew her sword and stood to the side, ready for the killing blow. A drop of his own blood dripped from his nose to his lips. He licked his lips and a renewed fire burned within him. He looked at the Sentinel and as she swung he raised his left arm. The force of the meeting of sword and shield was such that both were shattered and both combatants were thrown back from the impact. Gurfang was the first to rise, his vigour renewed. He pounced on the Night Elf and removed her helmet before hitting her several times with a now bloodied gauntlet. He tried to grab hold of her throat but could only grab her plate armour as she scrabbled to escape. She reached for the leather straps and ripped them off, letting her armour come away in her attacker’s hands as she started to run away, terror gripping her as her doom loomed ever closer. Suddenly she stumbled, pain shooting from her leg. Looking down, she found a knife sticking out from her calf. Pulling it out, she turned to get up but by then the Orc was upon her. The Orc, seemingly insane, wrapped his arms around her waist. She then felt sharp claws digging into her navel. She screamed as Gurfang ripped in to her flesh and her blood and innards covered the ground below her as he also bit into the side of her neck. In a final attempt to escape, the Night Elf pulled herself from the jaws of the blood-crazed Orc, leaving half her throat in his mouth. Going limp, her body collapsed on the floor.
Blood fever gripping him, Gurfang’s mind returned to the cowering Elf in the dwelling behind him. Gurfang slowly got back to his feet and re-entered the house to see the Elf woman still cowering on the floor beside the body of her son. Kicking her onto her back, Gurfang sat down on her stomach and drew out a knife and placed the point on her chin. Slowly and carefully, he traced the outline of her face with the blade until it returned to her chin. A grin appeared on his blood-soaked face as he prepared for a feast.
Then a strange sensation came over him. He had gone cold. Gurfang also felt a painful sensation in his chest. Looking down, he found the sharp end of a polearm protruding from his armour. He tried to cough, but all he could do was drool blood as he dropped his knife. His captive pulled herself out from under him and quickly got out of the room as the second of the two remaining Sentinels walked to the side of the dying Orc. With her colleague still holding the spear in place, she drew her sword and looked down on her foe.
“No longer shall you feed on our people, foul demon-Orc. Your kind deserve no pity, so you shall have none!” With that she separated Gurfang’s head from his shoulders.
"We are the ones that want to choose; always want to play but you never want to lose."