Nepkal, Servant of The Hash.

Second Story, fifth post

This dirt road seems to be leading me somewhere. I don’t know where I am going, but certainly it is a better place then where I currently am! I see light ahead, along with a clearing of the plants. I am on my way out of here!

A forest. A large, tree ridden forest. Look at all the greenery! This is much better than the swamp. I feel at home again. At least I know that there will be something good to eat here, instead of frogs and sour plants. A nice, meaty, furred animal. Ah yes, that will be nice.
Now to make my way through this dense jungle. Luckily I carry around a pocket knife wherever I go. There are large branches a plenty around here, so I shall fashion myself a crude spear. Who knows what horrors lie ahead in this jungle. Lions, leopards, jaguars, gorillas... Who knows how many things out here could savagely kill me. I must be prepared! This shall do it.
I head through the jungle at a brisk pace. Hunger compels me forward, I do not even feel the briar's digging at my legs. I must eat! The first animal I see, I shall devour!
Movement, over there!
It seems as though I have leaped upon some kind of large, green gorilla. His strength impresses me. Now that I have wrestled him down, I must deliver the finishing blow.
Damnit. It’s an orc.

Second Story, Third Post

     What goal was that? My mind seems to run blank on me sometimes. I shall figure it out sooner rather than later, it is likely. For now, let us see what this swamp possesses in the way of surviving.
     Some root plants, some leafy plants, some soggy plants, some dirty water, and I think I hear some frogs, and perhaps some lizards. Some of these plants smell sour, while others smell sweet. I want to opt for the sweet ones, for obvious reasons, but I wonder if the sweet ones are trying to deceive me into a safe state of mind? The sour ones seem poisonous because of their obvious unpleasant smell, but the sweet ones seem deceptive and even more potentially poisonous. Deceptive like a brightly colored frog.
     Oh, that’s right, I heard frogs.
     I suppose I just need to get the jump on a few of them and just... Jump on them? I guess that will work. They had better be wary, for the Hash is on the hunt. Delicious, froggy morsels.
     This is awful. I’m just going to head north, and out of this swamp.

Second Story, Second Post

     They have detained me for being human. Humans and orcs do not get along, it seems. They have been fighting battle after battle, war after war for years now. Since the beginning of time it seems. It is almost as if it is meant to be this way. It feels right. The Humans operate on the faction called The Alliance. The “good guys”, some may say. Good and evil are insubstantial terms, they can only be defined by what the current generalized opinion is. However, I digress.
The Alliance is comprised by the virtous humans, feisty dwarves, wise night elves, peaceful draenei, fierce worgen, and the petty little gnomes.     The orcs fight for the side of The Horde. The Horde could be called the “bad guys”, but it is all so very objective. I do not consider either side good or evil. They merely are fighting for their own interests. The Horde is composed of the proud orcs, the noble tauren, the brutal trolls, the terrible forsaken (undead), the vain but valuable blood elves, and the cunning goblins.     What I’m getting at is that the orcs detained me because I am human, therefore I am regarded as a member of the Alliance. In a dual faction world, it is difficult, if not impossible, to try and convey that you are a neutral party. Neutral parties do not last very long on Azeroth. The goblins were once neutral, even if some say they favored the Horde, but even those days have come to an end as the wolf and the eagle meet in war once again. The orcs would not release me until I have proven to them I am not an Alliance scout or the sort. It is even more difficult to convey my innocence to them due to the fact we speak two very different languages. With their tidbits of common language, and my broken orcish, it was a miracle they did not just crush me as soon as they saw me.
     They took me to their camp and put me in a crudely constructed cage. Not the most hospitable welcome, but what would anyone expect? I was a human trespasser in orc land. Much worse fates have befallen many people because of the same reason. Once the orcs seemed to fall asleep for the night, or most of them anyway, I put my escape plan into action. I picked up a rather sharp looking twig and starting cutting away at the vines used to tie the door shut. After several minutes, I slowly creaked the door open wide enough for me to squeeze through. Once out of the cage, I grabbed a nearby sack of vegetables. I piled the vegetables into the cage, took off my over shirt, and made the switch. The vegetables now had my shirt over them and I was wearing the sack. They will never find me. Score one for the Hash.
     Now to make my way to the ultimate goal.

Story 2, First Post

     The filth. The muck, the mire. It confounds me how they are willing to wade through this. Dirty, filthy place. I will be out of here soon enough. They won’t even miss me.
I am a hero of legends. Creatures that you would make you cower answer to me. I have many names: The Shifter, The Being, The Master of Trickery. The one I am most known as though, is:
     Butthash.
     Some of you may wonder why I am called by something so ridiculous, but the answer is simple. You’ve got to learn to take people by surprise, impress them, startle them. People never suspect a man with that name to possess such vast amounts of power. Sometimes even I surprise myself. I am not vain enough to be ashamed of something as petty as a name, anyway. Names can come and go, be changed by whim as quickly as a location can be changed. I have more important things to worry about.
     I have been detained by a group of people called the orcs. Some would argue they are not people, that they are in fact, monsters. I would beg to disagree however, because the orcs are only looked at as monsters because they are feared. To be feared is to be respected. To be respected is to be obeyed. The orcs are definitely under the category of “people” for me.
     Perhaps I could even argue in the other direction, that orcs aren’t people at all. People are bland, vanilla, ordinary, expendable. Standing out can become difficult when you’re lost in the swirling mass of society, where achievements can be whisked away as soon as petty gossip. Orcs are not people, because they work towards greatness, towards a destiny. People only work to put food on the table for the day, no real vision of the future.
     Oh how arguments can be swung like a pendulum.

Ninth Post- End of Story 1

     That is when the creature hobbled over to my desk, where I was sitting with hands on my lap, my head hanging dejectedly. He let forth a cackle. That is when he had told me that this court summons was frivolous, and the cost of the lawyers had caused him financial troubles over the previous weeks. The bastard was counter-suing me.
     The insolence! The daring, the.. The... The disrespect! My rage frothed up inside me at that moment, and I lunged across the table in a half-successful attempt at wrapping my hand around his lumpy neck. His lawyers, who had been trained bodyguards, then proceeded to beat the living hell out of me. I was escorted (carried, would perhaps be more accurate) out of the room into a squad car, where I was taken to the city jail.
     And here I stew, in my shame and misery. I am awaiting to hear if Hogger shall press charges, which no doubt he will. The counter-suing, the charges, and the inevitable decline in my reputation shall no doubt be the end of me. Here I sit, with this strange, dirty man, in my cell of self loathing. Perhaps one day I can find a way to get back at that ugly, god forsaken animal, somehow. Until then, I shall reflect, I shall learn, I shall persist.
     And one day, I shall plan.
There is an unreadable signature at the end of the page.

Eighth Post

     It all started out well. I pleaded my case to the judge, my lawyers backing me up as well as they could. The snag came when the judge had started asking Hogger follow-up questions. I did all I could to contain my rage during this time.
     “So, Mr. Hogger”, the rather weighty judge said, “I see that you have served this man some raw meat at your establishment, which resulted in a horrible case of salmonella, which has been stated had almost claimed the mans life. What do you have to say to that allegation?”.
     “Fine judge,” which the beast seemed to dribble, “I do not mean to dishonor your court with this petty trial. All I can say is I simply sell proteins that are not prepared for consumption. I run a modest butchery, not a restaurant. The man ate the raw poultry completely on his own accord and stupidity, and not by any fault of mine”.
     I had argued against this. If the beast didn’t plan on his customers eating in his building, why did he insist on placing tables and chairs inside it? Surely, this was a formidable defense. Hogger, however, was not swayed.
     “I have those chairs and tables there for the consideration of the customer. On rather busy days, it is not uncommon for there to be a long wait for service at my establishment. The chairs are for sitting and waiting comfortably, and the tables are to rest your weary arms on, if you deem fit”.
     The judge then seemed to turn on me. He gave me glances as if I was a child who had no idea what I was doing. I tried throwing out every piece of evidence  I had. The judge said he had heard all he needed to, and ruled in favor of Hogger. I had lost my chance at revenge, and made myself look like a fool trying to obtain it.