Perhaps, tradition isn't everything

You don't seem to have much choice in this matter, now that you think about it. You have all those knowledge of combat and warfare, but no experience. You have no weapons but your fists and feet, and you carry not a shred of armor on your bare body. But through the imprinted knowledge you have from the moment of your freedom...you have seen countless images of your master laying waste to multitudes of warriors of various races and calibers.

To make matters worse, your imprinted memories have shown you that life is an easy thing to take away. And while you have no idea of what means it takes to create life without natural, biological processes...you imagine creating you out of sheer power alone was not an easy feat. If your master can make life with just his magic, you would imagine dashing life away would be one of the most simplistic tasks he can perform.

Under normal circumstances, the two of you would do battle and the winner would claim dominance over the other. But, you have the feeling that the overlord wouldn't like that idea. It was just a hunch.

Well, upon inspection of the situation...it was either be subservient, or die. You may be eager to test your mettle, but you weren't keen on a suicide quest quite yet. So, this left you with the only viable option.

Deciding to go the extra mile, you use the knowledge of Orc culture to add a little flair to your kneeling. Before doing so, you stand up straight and tall as your arms come up. In a flash, you stand straight backed as your fists slammed across on top of each other and onto your shoulders. You then down cast your eyes and bend your head as you slowly descend onto your knee, bending your back slightly.

You did a part of the Orc salute, to give sign of respect to the one above your rank and might, and followed through with the knee of fealty. Not only were you giving your master the fealty of a servant, but the respect of a warrior. You hear an amused chuckle coming from his bass tone...you have pleased him.

A cackle overshadowed it as Pipsqueak He-Cunt showed his pleasure in this as well, a bit too much so, "Yes! The dimwit knows its place. That is good...it showed respect to its betters, as it rightfully should!"

A bark came from the master that cut into the air sharply in anger and distaste from He-Cunt's outburst, "Enough! Uldar, you should know your place too! You are an adviser, and nothing more. Let me handle my personal affairs."

The cloaked figure shirked away in retaliation, and backed away from you and the master. He was obviously affected by the retaliation...good, nice to know you're not the only one on a leash. That is comforting, in a way.

Your master looks back to you and motions you upwards with his hand. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you immediately do so, letting a hand rest on your bent knee so you can have a quicker time getting up. As you do so, however, a weight comes down all over you and feel things envelope your skin.

You looked down and watch as armor form around your being. It is mostly of sturdy leather with iron studs keeping it together. Though, within the bits that are left open to allow easier flexibility, you are covered in comfortable cloth with steel chain mail to protect them. You are covered from neck to toe in this armor. You feel a tightening on your hair as it is done up in a high ponytail, tied off with a leather strap. And from that strap, you feel leather wrap around your bald scalp and form into a helmet on your head. Odds are it is studded as well, though there are long, scaled flaps reaching to your shoulders to protect your neck. Crossing your eyes, you see a strip of steel running over your nose to safeguard it.

As the armor formed during your ascension, your master spoke, "You, will be my right hand in ruling...my voice in command...my weapon on the battlefield. I am your lord, and no other shall come before me. You execute my will, and my will alone. You shall call me "Master", and I am your god in this miserable world."

All these things rang...right, in your ears. Well, if he is your lord god, then who were you to question it? He did make you with his own essence after all, he might as well be. Very well, you will regard him as your god, and will do what you can to make him proud of your creation. After all, who knows how long it took him to do so.

"And here...a weapon tantamount to your strength and cunning. Use it well." You then feel your hand **** to clasp around something weight in your hand. You look and see a red leather-covered hilt there. Before your eyes, you see and feel the weapon materialize in your possession. It was a big hilt, able to have a second hand used to grasp it, with a sharp stake at the bottom of it. The cross guard looked like a dragon's head, and the end of both guard beams looking like horns.

It was then that the blade formed...the blade was thick and large, almost like just a slab of iron was just slapped onto that hilt. Though, it looked as if it was made of obsidian, and it was rather heavy...and it was rough and chipped. That did not bode well, especially when the blade itself turned out to be five feet in length while the width was seven inches.

This caused some amusement from your lord, "We all have to start somewhere, my minion. But know this, it is imbued with my powers...as you grow in strength and experience, it shall change itself to fit your needs and expertise. This sword is now a part of you, and will be shaped as you are shaped by your choices."

Looking at the sword over again, you did not like the fact it looked like crap. If this sword was suppose to represent you, then you can guess how high your master regards you. But not wanting to say anything, you just raise your sword into the air and face it down, sliding it into a sheath you knew was there.

As you do so, your master continue, "Use it wisely, minion...it shall serve you well, as you shall serve me. You shall be a great asset to my war against the pathetic mongrels of this world, and show it the perfection of darkness. You shall bring **** to my enemies and-"

His speech was interrupted as everything within this dark and dank room started to shake...as if an earthquake had occurred. This resulted in all three of your to brace yourselves, though Uldar feel over like the fool he was. If only you had the time to laugh at his misfortune.

As you and Uldar tried to gather your wits back, your dark master looked up to the ceiling...studying it before murmuring, "The Citadel...something is happening to it..." You raise a brow at your master's look...it was as if he could see through the darkness and floors as if they were crystal clear glass.