The outsiders: Part III: The "ugly" race

The darkness shall conquer the light
The Crypts shall spew demons from the Nether
The Blight shall be brought upon the thriving "life"
The Undead shall rule the foolish mortals

The eternal hiss will subdue the mortal hymns
The toxic matter will consume the ordinary
The dark lords will reign supreme
The strong will shall overcome all obstacles

The young warrior race is naught but our puppet
The chaos they spread unknowingly is naught but our plan
The rightfully theirs shall go back to the fire clan
The pretending races shall learn who are the true masters

The ignorant humans know not of our eons old history
The orcs know not that their will is controlled by us
The pointy ears are the ones who know
the purpose of the war we raged on them

The pretenders have existed for mere centuries
The true ones have been here forever
The pointy ears and the ignorant humans don't even know
That it's them who are the outsiders on this planet

The mortal human prince is on the dark side now
He is a puppet whom we control to fulfil the great ambition
Foolish mortal thought he was on a quest to find the stone of orunthal
But it was planted by us to control his mind, to kill his father, the ignorant "king"

The stage is set, for the Pointy ears and the Warrior clans are dying in clashes
The Orcs shall lead themselves to their doom at the dark island,
The planet will see its dark future soon, it knows not that it was but its past
The so called "outsiders" shall be welcomed by us, and the world shall be ours for the taking

The outsiders: Part II: The "bad" race

Our synonymn? The "Warrior" race.
Our hymn? The Battle song of the Nagadra.
Our strength? Our strength.
Our weakness? Hitherto misconception about the axe-orc.
Our purpose to live? To defeat the others, to recapture our lost glory.
We find our solace in? The fact that Mercenaries are only performing their duty.
Our enemies? The Pinkskins, or as they call themselves, humans; the pointy ears; the fire clan, or as we shall call them, when we meet them, the outsiders.
Our leader? Thrall the giant rat rider with Grunt the Green-skinned Boar teeth.
Our dilemma? The prophecy of the Raven. To fight for our land captured by the Pinkskins or to play the exodus to escape our doom?
Our confidence? The blood running in our veins. That which has been passed to us will win the trickery of the magic that we cannot understand.
Our message? The Pinkskins have only pestered us and disrupted our rule with petty feuds in the past. The irritating ones could only damage our reputation with words, and they shall pay, for they fail to even handle their half lethal weapons.
Our course of action? That what our leaders tell us is a writing in stone.
Our past losses? Only strengthen our muscles and fuels our fire to shed more blood for victory.
We are connected with? The very rulers of the twisting Nethers. They will rule all the land. We find strength in our bitter Lineage. We have been taught only to fight. Our small ones are bathed in blood on their first day of life. We rule the Tunnels for now, we will rule the forests next. The scaly animals are in a pact with us. They will help us overthrow the pointy ears. Those worthless ones only boast of something they stole. They hide in burrows. The pointy ears will fall soon. Their false notion of ruling the lands will rust. The black warriors will humble the pretenders. We do not know their sin, but we will make them pay to the worthy ones.

Long ago our leaders passed upon us the message from the portals of the Horumin. We carry upon our strong shoulders the daunting task of fighting for glory. Of cleansing the land of all sinners. We have created strong peons who can melee better than Pinkskins. We have mastered the trade with the Fanatic nose beaked Goblins. Their mechanical things help us on our quest of dominance. Yet we keep losing our brilliant warriors to the distracting pointy eared pretenders from the west and the conniving Pinkskins from the east. Wonder if the two worthless races ever squared off against each other.

A big news awaits us as Thrall talks about gloomy days ahead. He believes the Prophecy, that binds us to a far off unknown land with strange Events and strange creatures of the fire, which he refers to as the outsiders. He says we should avoid our petty Pinkskin feuds and put all our might to reach the island. For it holds the key to our future. If we pass this test, it is ours for the taking. If we lose, it could be our last loss.

With only single minded dogged determination, tomorrow we set out to fulfil our destiny. Watch out Pinkskins, this could be the last time you have the honour of Fighting the true Warrior Clan

The outsiders: Part I: The "good" race

This is the first part of a 5 part series. Hopefully this piece concludes one thing but keeps something hidden for the future.
Yes I have got inspired from the game and the lore of Warcraft-III ("Reign of Chaos", not the "The Frozen Throne" version; that I am unaware of), the book of Eragon (Just started reading) and the movie of The Lord of the Rings. But I hope I can introduce some originality in terms of ideas.

So here we go,

The outsiders: Part I: The "good" race

We are the keepers of the light.
We are the cultured ones.
We are the propagators of the Right.
We are the only "pure" race that has survived.

We have learnt only the best
We have taught some of the rest
Our own time-proven ways
Of scouting, mining, smithing, feeding, multiplying, protecting our own from all the outsiders.

We dwell on legends, of far off lands,
of striders who saw the black land, and the 6 limbed winged giants with scales,
of the "fair" race, the mythical tall lean pointed ears race,
of Elder Magic of all forms, but all still unfathomable to all.

We don't remember from where and whence our enemies, the orcs, came upon being
But we have fought them with blood ever since we got to know about them.
Over the frigid mountains of Andalaecia, across the luscious fields of Hanor,
Under the hot tunnels of Girith, oh but only to lose our best Paladin clans there.

We are not just warriors, but also the enlightened ones.
For we use our Fletched pens on our scrolls, and our Maces and shields alike.
We are not blood thirsty like those Orcs and Urgals and Ogres,
or those "Outsiders" that everyone talks about yet no one living has seen.

This land rightfully belongs to us,
despite what the lesser knowing mortals claim
For generations we have tilled this fertile valley
and for Eons have our lords reigned this bustling conglomeration.

We shall strive to do whatever it takes, to spread the light, the message,
to win the dark, the unknown, the extraordinary, the rightfully ours
No Son of a black monster is big enough, No Story of a winged giant is scary enough,
No Magical Forest is persuasive enough, to stop us from Wielding our sword