The Long Lesson

[Razaron]

The Long Lesson

The landscape of Draenor was changing, the Horde had secured many victories against the traitorous draenei and brutish ogres. These triumphant stories would trickle back to young and old at Heartblood, Razaron was proud to be apart of the Horde and more so proud to be the son of Gorgush. It had been many months since they had left for war and Razaron had been under the tutelage of the orc known as the Matron, she had demanded that the boy Razaron would meet her where they first met on the hills of the Tanaan Jungle atop the Bleeding Hollow Monument. Razaron was impressed by her wisdom and skill so did as she asked, when the first glimpses of the sun rose to the west Razaron would start his journey, every day would be the same. The Matron would always be there first and not say a word to Razaron, she would nod and throw him a stick and a battle would commence. Day turned to night and Razaron would be back at his hut nursing a new sprain, bruise or wound. This would go on till eventually Razaron snapped one morning, this day the Matron tossed a stick at Razaron and he watched it fall to the floor. “This is pointless! I can’t beat you! Every day I wake up more sore then the last!” “This is not about winning or losing boy!” snarled the Matron, “Some times in life your situation will keep repeating itself until you learn your lesson! Everything in your life is a reflection of choice young Razaron, if you want different results then make different choices!” Razaron listened on and nodded, she was right, of course she was. Razaron picked up the stick but this time he was completely focused.

The Matron took a step forward stick in hand and glided towards Razaron, her movement was impeccable despite her age. Razaron watched closely, his gaze like a hawk studying her every move and he did as she did and moved like the breeze to face her in combat. Sticks clashed but this time for Razaron it was going to be a different outcome, as he fought the Matron his attention drifted towards a memory of his hunts with his father in the Zorramarsh. He remembered watching the raptors and how they would be patient and sudden, Razaron would wait like the raptor stalking his prey and then strike at the precise moment. Just then the Matron overextended her staff and Razaron was quick to react, he parried the staff with the inside of his own and with one fell swoop he had disarmed the matron and pushed her to the floor. She was beaten, the Matron grunted in praise, “Well done, well done indeed! You see, you are learning but remember this, today you’ve won the battle but..” The Matron abruptly swept Razaron from his feet and he fell to the floor in a heap, the Matron continued, “Not the war, there is always more to be learned.” She chuckled, this was the first time he had seen her laugh. They both helped each other to their feet, “You’ve done well today, come I shall give you something for all the pain I’ve inflicted.” The Matron waving her hand for Razaron to follow.

The Matron led Razaron through Tanaan, Razaron and his peers never knew this route through the jungle and it showed as it felt like the foliage of the jungle itself was fighting him back. “Come boy, you really going to let the jungle beat you?” Razaron snarled at the Matron and pushed his way through the vines. Eventually after hours of walking they arrived at a magnificent tree, it rose above others in the area and atop was a small hut, “This is my home young Razaron. We will discuss more inside.”

Razaron was sat on some furs nursing his wounds by a campfire, “I really beat you up didn’t I?” the Matron chuckled. “Matron, what is your true name?” asked a inquisitive Razaron. “Does it matter?” the Matron snapped, “I am the Matron to you, no more.” Razaron was confused, he thought he was getting along with the old orc better but perhaps he was wrong. “Sea scorpion..” Mumbled the Matron, “Done, drink this healing tonic it shall speed up your recovery and for the ancestors sake don’t be sick!” Razaron was handed the tonic and then placed his nose against the end of the bottle, he gagged and said alarmed, “You want me to drink this?” The Matron snapped back, “For the love of Kilrogg quit whining, drink it or are you a big dumb ogre in disguise? If wanted to poison you you’d be dead by now.” Razaron thought of his father fighting for the Horde, risking it all for his people. “You’re right.” Razaron held his nose and after what felt like an eternity drank down the potion. He gagged some more, his hand to his mouth but he managed to keep it all down. “If you cut the right parts off a sea scorpion, here and here and grind down the segments then its know to make for some potent healing tonics.” The Matron said holding up a dead scorpion by his claw and pointing at various parts of it’s body. “You can make many tonics out of almost anything young Razaron, even your blood.” Razaron slanted his head in a confused state, what did she mean by even your blood? “Your father took you on his vision quest did he not?” the Matron said, her eyes fixed on Razaron waiting for a answer. Razaron merely just nodded his head, “Then he has shown you one of the steps of being a Bleeding Hollow, I will show you another!” The Matron pulled out a rusty knife and before Razaron could react she had slit her palm, a pain expression rose across her face but she bit her lip not to scream. “The life blood of our bodies is a powerful source of magic. It can help mend wounds..” A red bolt of blood shot across from the Matron’s palm to a wound on Razaron’s arm. “It can also be used to heighten your abilities, but at a cost. The cost being yourself!” The Matron fell to her knees weakened by the lesson, the wound on her palm slowly closed as the blood in the air dissipated. “In time, you shall learn these techniques.” Razaron looked on intrigued but also scared, today had been a long lesson.