Stories, then and now

[Scharda]

Index

2018 and newer

-Changed but still the same (Scharda)
-Side by side (Scharda)


Pre-2018

- Ink and Blood (Scharda)
- Stand your ground (Korgara)
- Remember, remember... (Scharda)
- A call from beyond (Korgara)
- I hear you (Skadé)
- I am
- About time (Strífe)

[Scharda]

Ink and blood - Scharda Ud'uhru Thraka - Stormsong

-

Letting the long metal spike rest on her wrist, carefully holding it by its blunt end with her right hand, the shaman let the point slowly trace the green skin with painstaking precision. Each tap of the metal point leaving behind a small dot of black ink that would mix with drops of blood as it slowly seeped from countless small cuts.
Around her on the ground stood several bowls of ink ranging in colour from crimson red to black and perfect white, a few pouches of herbs still laying next to them though all seemingly arranged into specific orders. Another five metal spikes had been carefully laid on a separate small blanket and next to those stood a bowl of clear cold water, a wooden figurine in the shape of a wolf holding a burning stick of incense.

”Almost done” Scharda said, her words slightly muffled due to the metal spike clutched between her teeth, a drop of blue still lingering on its tip. They’d been at it for a good five hours now and she was feeling the toll of it just as well as the orc grunting at her as the spike hit another nerve.
There was something spiritual about tattooing but no one ever claimed it to pleasant, and even an orc would admit to a slight discomfort after a few hours of having his skin stung with razor needles.

”Slow..” the warrior said, a slight smirk on his lips though as he shot Scharda a sideways glance over his shoulder. The shaman grinned in return and placed the spike down on a separate blanket before taking the one between her lips and dipping its point in the blue ink again.
”Perhaps” she said with that grin that always seemed part of her expression, that confident, strong and somewhat smug grin that you either came to love, or hate. ”But this is art my friend. And you wouldn’t want it to look like some gnome scribbled across your back now do you?”

The warrior chuckled though was quickly silenced as the flat of a hand smacked him a cross the back of his head. He was twice as broad and twice the bulk of the woman currently attacking his back with needles and ink, yet she showed no fear in correcting him and he, in return, remained motionless.

”Do that again and I’ll stab you just to make a point” Scharda said.
”I thought that was what you’d been doing for the last eight hours….” the other orc muttered.
”Five” she corrected him, pulling back slightly and tilting her head to the side as she eyed her work much in the same way one would expect a painter to view a canvas. ”Learn to count or admit I beat you at the last Brewfest”
”Ha! Beaten at drinking by a woman? Never!” the warrior grumbled though there was something playful about his tone of voice.

The shaman chuckled and shook her head with a wide grin, reaching for a clean rag and the bowl of water, placing it in her lap as the spike with the blue ink was laid down next to the black one.
”Stubborn -and- stupid tsk tsk” she smirked. ”Good thing you’re strong or you’d be a complete loss” Scharda chuckled teasingly, wetting the rag in the water before carefully wiping it across his back. The blood, sweat and excess ink disappearing to reveal the full extent of her work, a simple nod of her head indicating that she was indeed pleased with the result as she dropped the rag back into the bowl and placed it aside. The excess colour staining the remaining water a dark blue-black.

”Tell me what you think” she said, handing the warrior a mirror before reaching for a policed metal buckler she always kept with her tools, holding it up so that he’d be able to see his back in the reflection.

The orc lifted his chin, turned his head this way and that as the smile on his lips slowly widened into a broad grin at the sight of the intricate pattern now decorating his back, a dire wolf, the colours of snow and ice, emerging through clouds of white with jaws open as if about to leap. A true Frostwolf.

For a moment he was silent, then his voice turned into a roar as he turned around and picked the much smaller woman off the ground with minimum of effort, laughing as he gave her a spin and nearly lost hold of her for a brief moment.
”You do me honour shaman!” he bellowed, lifting Scharda up high as if she was a mere child. ”A tribute worthy of a warrior indeed! Say what payment you want and you’ll have it”

”Well, we could start with putting my feet back on the ground” the young orc chuckled, staring down at him now that he was holding her up high. ”As for payment, how ‘bout you re-forge my shield?”
The warrior blinked as if not quite grasping what she’d just said then shook his head at the realization of what he was doing, placing her down on the ground as carefully as his massive hands could manage.
”Nothing more?” he said with a hint of puzzlement to his voice as the shaman dusted herself off.
”Well, no” Scharda said, straightening her west slightly before moving back to her makeshift workplace and kneeling down. ”I broke my shield last week, a bloody squid shattered it with his hammer before I shattered his skull with mine. And, well, I really can’t afford a new one right now so I thought…”
”Then a shield you shall have. I promise you my best work!” the warrior cut her off, Scharda resting an arm on her knee as she looked back over her shoulder at him.
”Oh I’d expect nothing less” she said with a chuckled as she threw him his shirt and then turned to gather her materials.
”Just remember; no going swimming for a week, wash your back twice a day -and- remember the ointment, every day after you’ve washed. Oh and Tok…” she added, turning around as she got back up.
”Make me a shield I can actually lift”

The warrior flashed her a sly grin.

[Scharda]

Stand your ground - Korgara K'rosh Ironhide

-

”Stand your ground! Hold the line! Hold the line!!”
Even in the midst of battle her voice echoed like the hoarse bark of a wolf, the wind howling all around them, whirling up the snow and biting at skin and leather as if a beast with fangs of ice.
Blood stained the ground, their breaths turning to ice in the cold wind as they growled and shouted at the enemy gathering up on the far side of the small gorge. The battlefield half buried in the dancing snow that sought to cover the bodies of fallen friends and foes alike.
In a matter of hours it would be as if they’d never been there, but before that time the orcs would make damn sure the dwarves remembered that this was theirs land. And no dwarf nor wind nor ice or snow would be able to twist the land from their grip. They’d sooner die, and take the enemy with them.

”You do not move from this spot! We hold this ridge and we make them pay for their intrusion in blood!”
The orcs howled in unison, iron fists and axes bashing at their shields making a sound as if a hundred drums of war echoing through the mountains.

Korgana turned her gaze towards the enemy with a smirk on her lips, blood smeared across her face and armour as she lifted her axe above her head. There was bloodlust in her gaze, a hint of insanity perhaps but there was no denying that it was because of that that she still stood. Bravery only took you so far, you had to be a little mad to be able to go all the way.
”Frostwolves!” she screamed. ”Didn’t I promise you a good fight?!”
There was laughter from the band of orc, a general cheer suggesting that despite their fatigue there was still enough strength left in them for one more charge. Or well, defence as it was.

Wiping her bloodied mouth with the back of her hand, the young orc’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as she eyed the dwarves readying a last attack. Her unit, or rather, Mor’gash’s unit, consisted of recruits and young bloods, none of which was yet proven warriors but all of which had fought as if they were. The dwarves had thought them an easy target when they’d ambushed them, but to their surprise, the axes of the young bloods had proved as sharp as those of their veterans.
The dwarves had killed of Mor’gash, but while they perhaps had thought that the unit would scatter and flee without his leadership they’d instead found that it had only furthered their resolve to fight.

Korgara licked her broken fang as she eyed the enemy huddle together as if unable to decide their next move.
As Mor’gash’s second in command, it was her unit now and she’d be damned if she was to hand them over to the dwarves without a fight. At the very least, with no other option in sight, they’d take as many down with them as they could possibly manage. Blood, strength, honour. It didn’t matter much when you were dead, but it did matter how you died. And if given a choice she rather it be on a battlefield with axe in hand than in a bed, frail and sick.

”We will not move an inch…” she hissed, her eyes narrowing as her voice grew to a roar. ”We’ll decorate our shields with your beards ya hear me?! You good for nothing, bite sized goat lovers!
Again the other orcs joined in, metal and wood  rumbling like thunder as they bashed their axes on their shields and howled like wild wolves. They knew as well as she did that this would be their last stand, but if they couldn’t brag about their exploits at the camp fire afterwards, then they’d make damn sure to make a stand so great that others would tell their tale in their place.

It would seem at this stage their enemy’s patience had been worn thin as the sudden cry of a battle horn shattered the howling winds and signaled the dwarves’ charge. Metal plated boots stomping the ground flat as the armoured unit moved as if one, their superior disciple and training visible for even a rookie to see.
The orcs hesitated but remained in line, Korgara’s voice echoing in their ear with a bite that suggested that fleeing would do them far worse than any dwarven blade ever could.
She didn’t like leading them into certain death but as things were, retreat wasn’t an option. If the unit scattered and fled the dwarven thunderers would only pick them off one by one and the messenger they’d sent back to Frostwolf Hold would be intercepted, destroying any chance of forging a counterattack.
No, better to buy them time. Better to die as true orcs.

”Hold the line!”
The orcs grumbled, steading their stances and bracing themselves for impact. They held the high ground, it wasn’t much but better than to fight down in a ravine where the thunderers would be able to hit them from above.
”Hold!”
The dwarves moved closer. Korgara’s orders echoing down the line as others repeated it.
”Hold!” she shouted again.
The thunder of orcish shields and axes now outdone by the sound of metal clad feet stomping across the battlefield as they neared the final stretch.
”WE!” she screamed at the top of her lounges, lifting her shield and clutching an already bloodied axe in her right hand.
”ARE ORC!!” the orcs roared.

”Give it your best shot, stunties…” Korgara muttered.
The two lines clashing in an explosion of wooden splinters and shattered steel.

[Scharda]

Remember, remember... - Scharda Ud'uhru Thraka - Stormsong

-

The short claw-like nail traced across the ground, slowly and meticulously drawing a pattern in the dirt as it had been doing for the last four hours in order to crate a circle of interlocking symbols and runes that stretched a good three meters in either direction from the center where the orc was kneeling.

It had taken some time, but with the last rune in place, the orc straightened to regard her creation with blue eyes that sought to find any imperfections that might've occurred. However, after a moment of finding none, the orc merely nodded to herself and proceeded to sit down on her knees, right there at the center of the circle, surrounded by her hours of work.

The air felt dry, sweeping small grains of sand up off the ground and bringing them with it to brush across inked skin. The sun setting in the horizon bathing the barren landscape in rays of gold and amber as the orc drew her breath, closed her eyes and softly exhaled as the content of the small bowls set around her in the center of the circle, began to shift and move.

Water.
Fire.
Earth.
Air.

The water bubbled. The fire flickered. The earth rumbled. The air swirled. The orc slipped her robes off her shoulders and exposed her upper body to the elements. The ink forever marking her skin beginning to glow as energy began to flow along the delicate lines, like water filling an empty riverbed and soaking the ground that had grown dry and barren from years of dehydration.

Water.
Fire.
Earth.
Air.

The four elements but not complete without the last aspect: soul and spirit. An aspect embodied by the blood drawn by a blade that was picked from its sheath and run across the palm of one hand. The obsidian edge cutting into the flesh and forcing the red liquid of life to flow to the surface. Pain was one of those things you learned to endure and the sting of the blade not so much ignored as accepted by the orc who flexed her fingers to help bring more of that crimson to flow.

That was life though, acceptance of what couldn't be changed. And the will to change what could be. And she?

She closed her hand into a fist to stain her fingers with the blood before lifting it to draw the rune of the ancestors on her chest above her heart. "Hear me" the orc whispered to the wind. "Elements and spirits" lifting both hands, she turned her bloodied palm to face downwards while holding the hilt of the obsidian blade in her other hand, keeping them at chest height in front of her herself. "I need your voice to reach those that cannot be reached by my own. I need your strength, your endurance, your swiftness, your prowess to carry my word so that they might hear. So that they might know... the time has come"

Around her, the four elements stirred once more.

Water.
Fire.
Earth.
Air.

They shifted and morphed, lifting themselves into the air and as they began to circle the shaman. Slowly at first, then faster and faster and faster, until they became but a blur of colours. One which looked as if it was threatening to turn into a small vortex up until the point where the orc let out a howl and threw herself forward to slam her bloodied palm into the ground and disrupting the inner circle of the large pattern she had so painstakingly created.

In an instant, those few drops of red appeared to seep through the ground, flooding the lines she'd drawn in the dirt with energy just as her tattoos had. And with a sound as if air being swallowed, the vortex dissipated in an outwards blast that left that was followed by complete silence.

For a few moments the world remained like that. Silent. Calm. Before a low hum made its presence known as the orc straightened up and lifted her hand off the ground, turning it to reveal, as her fingers opened, a set of four small glowing orbs hovering above her palm.

She smiled, knowing they had answered her and leaned in to whisper softly so that none other could hear what she had to say.

"Blood of my blood. Go to them, let them know they are needed. Bring us together once more"

The orbs glimmered, shifting with the colours of the elements and humming with the strength of life.

"Skadé, my sister"
The first orb made a sound as if water falling.
"Strife, my mother"
The second orb made a sound as if a soft breeze.
"Korgara, my cousin"
The third orb rumbled low as if an earthquake.

And lastly...
"Marcus.... my brother"
And the fourth orb flared with the brilliance of a flame.

She lifted her hand above her head and held the orbs up high as she leaned her head back to watch the last glimmer of sun lingering in the horizon. The darkness looming over her now as it awaited its chance to engulf the world.

"Go"
And like that, the orbs shimmered one last time and, with a speed no bullet could ever hope to match, shot out in separate directions and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

It was time.

[Scharda]

A call from beyond - Korgara K'Rosh Ironhide

-

The beast let out one last howl, one that spoke of its final terror before it fell to the ground, the sound muffled by the snow that covered it and which dances on the air around them. Armour, shield and sword had done little to save it from the orc's heavy mace, and while she cared little for the enemy, the Frostwolf allowed the fallen one small show of compassion as the mace was lifted and brought down to crush its skull, efficiently putting it out of its misery.

The creature... they looked like wolves but walked on two feet. The orc pulled the heavy scarf away from her scarred face to look at the dead body which blood was slowly colouring the snow around it a deep crimson colour. But it was no wolf. Wolves were fiercer than this man-thing. She ought to know, her clan even held the animal in a high enough regard to call themselves by its name. And even carried the pelt of its namesake across her shoulders, the fur of a once mighty beast that had served her as a companion for several years before dying in battle. Though, even in death, the wolf had saved her more than once with it's strong hide.

Alliance.. Hah!

The wind howled again, picking up more snow and swwpign it across the hostile landscape of jagged, snow covered mountain and rock as if nature itself saught to bury the last traces of the fallen warrior's existence. And soon enough, it would. It would swallow it up, erase all traces but the ones of rusted armour that would eventually be trampled or returned ot the earth.

Such was life. Such was life on either side of the fence and the Frostwolf knew it. And yet, despite all that? She cared very little. She had her name, her fmaily, her duty to give her enough reason to kee on fighting. And so she would. The orc in no way or form ready to die yet.

"Pathetic" she wrinkled her nose at the corpse and spat at the ground, a touch of red colouring the saliva from the few good hits the wolf-man had managed to get in before dying. But unlike him, her shield had held, her armour had held. As it always did.

Ironhide. She never backed down and she never broke, having earned her name in battle while standing her ground with a small band of orcs to fight off a dwarven ambush that had claimed the life of their commander and the majority of the squad. And just like then, she had kept on fighting impossible odds, prevailing each time even if her body bore the scars to remind her of all the times she had gotten close to failing.

From behind her the low growl of a dire wolf could be heard, the beast stepping out of the wind and snow with blood stained jaws. It earned a slow glance from the orc who reached out to placed an armoured hand ontop of its head in a surprisingly gentle gesture of affection. "You got the other one, did you, Frostbite? Good boy" she smirked before a sound, as if a low hum, had her eyes snapping sideways in its direction.

Now what?

Her muscles instantly tensed, the grip on the mace tightening for a moment as if anticipating an attack before, from above, a small glowing orb lowered itself from the sky, lingering in front of the surprised orc's face for a few moments before the mace was finally hung from her belt in order to extend a hand towards the object. The orb floating above her hand for a moment before settling onto her palm.

And for a few moments the scarred orc was silent, simply staring at the small thing before slowly, a smirk spread across her lips, causing her to break into a grin. "Well, waddayaknow..." she closed her fingers around the orb and slung her shield onto her back as she turned to grab onto the wolf's fur and, despite the bulk of her armour, swung herself onto its back with ease. "C'mon, we've got someplace we need to be"

And like that? The Frostwolf and her beast turned to ride into the blizzard and vanished.

[Scharda]

I hear you - Skadé Ud'uhru Thraka - No Name

-

She had been watching the deer for some time now, waiting patiently as the animal grassed and went about its business. Blue eyes gazing out from underneath the coarse fabric of a tattered hood as the hunter moved with slow deliberate movements so not to stir even a single leaf there she sat perched on a branch of a tall tree which had, by now, most likely seen centuries pass it by. Causing it to no longer care about such unimportant things as an orc and her prey. They were but a small drop in an ocean of time and would matter little in the big picture.

The arrow was carefully slid from its quiver and brought to rest upon the hand grasping the bow in her other hand before pulling it back against the bowstring. The hunter drawing her breath as she took aim, bringing the bow string far enough back to rest her hand against her cheek while exhaling slowly. The only sound that of her whispered breath and the slight creak of the bow.

One shot. One kill. Silent. Efficient. Quick.

Patience was the name of the game and the shadow among the leaves had plenty of that to go with a mastery of her chosen weapon that made her a deadly killer. Though, this time? This time a soft jingle, as if from a small bell, interrupted the silence, causing the deer to lift its head and sniff the air. Ears twitching at the unknown sound before bolting off to disappear back among the trees and undergrowth.

"Well, damn..." the words were sighed as the bow was lowered and the string relaxed. Brows furrowing slightly as the hunter lifted her eyes to see a small glowing orb decent from the sky to settle above the palm of her hand where it hovered. That warm glow pulsating with life and purpose as Skadé watched it, feeling a slight smirk grace her lips despite the failure of her hunt. "Well, well..." was about time wasn't it?

The hunter closed her fingers around the orb and rose to her feet, a slight breeze rushing through the forest and rustling the leaves as if the trees wanted to answer the call of the orb itself in their own way. The wind carrying with it scents she recognized even though they really shouldn't have been able to reach that far as the hooded orc closed her eyes for a moment and simply... listened.

She didn't possess the connection to the spirits that her sister did, but even so she knew how to listen and how to read signs a lot of others ignored or didn't even as much as notice. And with the orb carefully held in her hand, those signs became that much clearer. As if a mist parting to reveal a clear sky much like the one peeking through the tree canopy that stretched high above her. Rays of light shining through it and dabbing her skin and clothes with spots of gold.

"I hear you, sister..." the orc smiled. "And you're right. I've waited" as had the others no doubt.

The orb was pocketed, the unused arrow sheathed and the bow clutched in one hand as, despite her size and seemingly heavy leather armour, moved with surprising grace down the tree before landing on the ground with a low thump.

It was time.

[Scharda]

I am

-

I am the wind
And the air
And the open sky

I am the Earth
And the ground
And the mountains high

I am the ocean
And waters
And rivers deep

I am the flame
And the fire
And heat that seeks

I am flesh
I am blood
I am spirit and mind

Remember it well
Once ignored
Not a second time

[Scharda]

About time - Strífe Ud'uhru Thraka the Black Fang

-

Teeth make a very distinct sound when they break, not quite the cracking of bone, not the tear of flesh. So when the brute of an orc's face impacted with the wall under the not so gentle guidance of a much smaller fist, it was easy to tell that he'd be in for a fair bit more pain than just the soreness of a wounded ego and a bruised jaw.

He sort of lingered like that for a moment, the hand that had introduced him to the wall digging its fingers further into his hair as the owner of saif fist turned a pair of glaring eyes towards the remaining crowd currently occupying the small tavern. A blue eye contrasted by a starch white one where an old battle wound had apparently left its mark some time ago.

"Now?" the voice was a hoarse barking, or growl more like it, rolling off the tip of a tongue almost as sharp as the still sheathed blades hanging from the belt at the smaller orc's hip. "Anyone else got any bright ideas?" to which the orc with the now busted teeth tried to lash out from the rather awkward angle he was in, only to find his attempt parried, countered and his wrist twisted with enough force and at such an angle as to dislocate it with a snap and a subsequent howl of pain.

It appeared to put a final dampener on his rebellious mood though, even if the smaller orc insisted on settling the score by pulling his head back and ramming him face first into the wall a second time to knock him unconscious before allowing the brute to crumple to the floor.

No? Good" the leather clad figure offered something akin to a wry little snarl before taking her seat once more and picking up the mug of ale that had been left undisturbed.

How she hated those little upstarts. Barely thirty winters of age and they thought themselves unbeatable warriors. Bah. They mistook her for weak because she was smaller, an all too common mistake among the youth it would seem. Then again, she'd come across that attitude with a few of the older guard as well. Not that she cared, or had anything to prove, but it annoyed her when someone decided to interrupt what was supposed to be a quiet breather as she preferred her beer cold and constant interruptions tended to have it grow warm.

Those miss matched eyes scanned the small crowd that had seemingly decided to return to their own business rather than poke at her again, and the older orc groaned quietly to herself and leaned back in her seat. The leather armour she was wearing not making as much as a single little creak as the material had been worked over and oiled and worn to the point where it was as silent as its wearer could be. Which couldn't really be said for the loudmouthed youths bragging to each other like fishermen claiming to have caught the bigger fish.
The Horde was in such a sorry state of affairs if this was what it could muster, she thought in the quiet of her own mind before, through the dull background noise of the smokey, stuffed room, a sound as if from a silver bell, caused her ears to twitch.

Now.. that was different...

From the corner of a seemingly dead, yet obviously not so dead eye, a small glimmer caught her attention. The older orc's hand lashing out as if a viper striking at it's prey, snatching the glimmer form the air as her brows scrounged up slightly, causing a few crows feet at the corners of her eyes to make themselves more prominent.
Even through the leather of her gloves she could feel the object's properties, cold and smooth almost as if holding onto glass. Yet, it was very distinctly not glass as she opened her hand and watched the small orb float just above her palm. A slight tingling sensation spreading through her bared fingertips as the orb hummed and a smirk spread across the woman's lips.

"I see"

From the floor came a pained grunt as the brute stirred, the world blurry and still dancing before his eyes as the orc slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position to try and get his bearings. And to try and get a glimpse of the bitch whose neck he was going to wring once he was able to recognize up from down.
Though which ever way he looked at it, he couldn't find her. Only an empty mug of beer now standing on the table where she'd been seated a few moments earlier.

Guess revenge would have to wait for a time when his head no longer felt as if it had tried to substitute a hammer and failed.

[Scharda]

Changed but still the same - Scharda Ud'Uhru Thraka Stormsong

-

Tracing her fingertips along the dry top soil, the hooded figure knelt on the ground, resting her other arm on her knee. There was a light breeze tugging at her cloak, a familiar scent in the air which was hot and dry and really not the best match for fur and heavy clothes. But whether hot or cold, the weather had never really bothered her much. Whether snow, rain, hail or sun, she’d always felt at peace with the elements as they were, managing to adapt quite well regardless of the circumstances.

Stormsong, her mother had called her, because she’d dance in the rain and make the winds sing and howl. Stormbreaker, the tribe had called her, for defeating an elemental in the cold mountains of Northrend.

One or the other, the truth remained; that while some things changed, others did not. And while she had changed much since the days where she’d danced in the rain as a cub, those changes were merely skin deep. As on the inside? She was still the same. Still one with the elements regardless of her form, regardless of her looks, regardless of the time or place.

The hand was pressed against the ground, feeling the heat of the sand for a moment before slowly being pulled back. Her fingers curling to form into a fist as a smirk tugged at her lips upon already feeling the crackle of energy dancing along her arm. The wind still relentlessly tugging at her clothes like an impatient little child.

”I hear you…”

Then in the next second, the fist was slammed into the earth, seemingly causing it to explode as a cloud of dust rose into the air where it lingered but briefly before being whisked away by the impatient winds. The shaman’s smirk turning into a smile as blue eyes fell on the now glowing shards of solid rock which had dislodged themselves from the earth only to float in the air around her arm as if hummingbirds.

Yes, she could still hear them after all these years. And they could still hear her. For while she had been away for a long time, as already stated; some things did not change.

”Thank you” the hooded figure rose to stand, slowly turning her arm so to watch the wickedly sharp shards move as she did. Maybe they weren’t like hummingbirds but more like bees? Ready to sting. In the back of her mind she could hear their faint hum, an echo of a voice that did not speak with words but with sensations, images. ”For answering my call”

Now, she had the weapon that would protect her. Next, she needed to find the family she in turn was meant to protect. Although how long that particular journey would take, she could not say. All she knew, was that she’d find them. She could, after all, still feel them.

[Scharda]

Side by side - Scharda Ud'Uhru Thraka Stormsong

-

One by one the little stone figurines were places on the naturally formed rock shelf which jutted from the mountain side. Familiar faces from what felt like a lifetime ago, side by side as she remembered them. Some might still be around, some, she reckoned sadly, would be gone. Some might still remember her while others would’ve forgotten as such was the passage of time; it did not stop or even slow down for anyone, but continuously flowed, dancing along like a river that might be disturbed, but never dammed or contained.

One by one she had shaped their likeness in stone so that she could see their faces one more time, their names a whisper on her lips until the very last one was put on the stone shelf, completing her memory of the tribe that had allowed her in. The tribe she had not been born into, but chosen and who had chosen her.

Youth, her mother had always said, was not wasted on the young as long as they were given a choice to find their own path. And she had. It had been a long, winding road. One she could not have foreseen or even guessed at. But now? Now it was finally leading back to that which she remembered as home. She just couldn’t stop but wonder, how many of the faces she remembered would still be there once she reached it.

A smile formed beneath the shadow of the hood, a hand reaching out to gently nudge at one of the figures, an older orc with just a hint of a smirk to his lips. Because that’s how she remembered him still, with that slight smile he’d give her.

”Kzzzt?” the crackle of fire somehow managed to have a questioning tone to it as the small elemental crawled over her shoulder to peek at the stone figurines. A curious tilt given to it’s head as the fiery surface flickered and glowed yet somehow did not do anything to burn the clothes of the hooded orc.

”Volkan” the shaman said, turning her hand so that she could open her palm facing upwards, allowing the small elemental to float down her arm and perch itself on her hand. ”He is… was… might still be, a great orc” at least to her he had always been that.

The elemental made another crackling sound, turning its head, or what one could only assume was its head, towards the shaman and then back to the figurine.

”Come on… we still got a long way to go” the orc smiled, leaning down to allow the elemental to sort of jump out of her hand and onto the ground. The fire crackling and growing brighter for a moment before shifting and changing its shape into a more familiar, albeit two-headed, one. ”Really?” the shaman questioned with an arch of an eyebrow, watching the elemental plop its now tailed little butt down on the ground to scratch itself with a hind paw. ”That’s what you’re going with?”

The elemental stood up again, wagged its stubby little tail and stomped all four paws on the ground eagerly.

”Alright” shrugged the orc, throwing one last glance at the figurines there they stood in silent memory. ”It’s as good as any I guess” she smiled, and with that, turned her back on what was but a distant memory, in order to continue her search for what would be the future.