Tanaan Hell

[Razaron]

Tanaan Hell

One year had passed since Razaron last saw his father Gorgush and in that time he had trained under the guidance of the old orc woman known as the Matron. Razaron who had little insight in to the skills of combat had mastered the Zeth’tar which translates to Dance to Victory in orcish, the Zeth’tar is a rare fighting form that combines elements of tribal dancing with agile footwork, acrobatics, stealth and sudden savage attacks that leaves the opponent off-guard. The Matron is a master in this weapon based martial art but it was scarcely practiced amongst the Bleeding Hollow clan. Razaron was also educated in potion making and blood magic and his swift grasp on both was impressive to behold, he hoped that if his father would next see him he would be proud to see the orc he had grown into. Gorgush had been conscripted under the banner of the orcish Horde led by the new Warchief known as Blackhand, they had laid waste to all that opposed them and little did Razaron know his father was returning home.

Razaron stood atop the hills of the Tanaan Jungle and was deep in thought, recurring words of wisdom from the Matron echoed through his head, “Everything in your life is a reflection of choice.” She was right, the choices the orcish people had made had led them to this. “The land of Tanaan Jungle is dying.” He said with a heavy heart. Razaron surveyed the land and saw the ancient jungle trees withering, the long lush green grass had started to turn to a dying yellow pigment and the rich potent soil was nothing more than sand and clay. Vast rivers and lakes had dried up and a myriad of animal corpses scattered the land which accompanied an eerie silence. “We’ve abandoned who we are Razaron.” Said the Matron climbing the hill and putting a arm around him, “This land was rich with life and now it’s dying all around us!” The Matron frowned, “We’ve chosen the easy path with this wicked new fel magic and the spirits have deserted us for it!” Razaron let out a deep sigh as he then nervously scratched at an itch on his chest, to his horror it started peeling but it didn’t just end there, under the dead surface the new skin was turning green! “Strange isn’t it? Look.” Said the Matron as she revealed to Razaron her arm, the skin had started to shred and underneath was a green tint. “It seems like this fel is corrupting even us!”. Razaron’s head dropped and all his thoughts could muster was, why?

Razaron couldn’t dare lift his head to look at what his world had become in till a sudden noise sprung him to life, a horn blew in the distance. The sound reverberating through Razaron’s bones and as he looked up he saw the banners of the Horde, “They’ve returned!” Hope rose through Razaron’s body as he rushed down the hill, “Stop Razaron!” Shouted the Matron but her words fell on deaf ears, he was racing home to Heartblood to welcome back the heroes of war. If anyone would know how to fix this it would be the orcish champions he theorized in his head. Razaron arrived at his hut out of breath, he was panting hard but he had to be quick and prepare to honor his father’s return. He grabbed all the bottles of alcoholic beverages he could muster, “Tonight will be a celebration like no other!” he said out loud bursting with pride. The march of the Horde could be heard miles away, the heavy drilled footsteps of thousands of orcs would scare the life out of any soul. The Horde reached the centre of the dying jungle and then splintered off in to different areas, Razaron stood at the entrance of his village waiting eagerly for their return. His hand high in the air grasping a alcoholic bottle, his face that was full of hope had suddenly turned to despair in a heartbeat, the orcs had returned alright but not how they left. They were bigger, green and their eyes burned red. “WHERE IS MY SON?” Bellowed a voice, “RAZARON!” Gorgush screamed, Razaron’s father was back and he too was like the rest of them. “No!” Razaron yelped dropping the bottle in shock as the glass smashed all over the hard earthen floor, Gorgush alert to the noise veered his head, his sight locked on to the cracked glass and then his eyes climbed in till they were locked with Razaron. “OM’RIGGOR!”