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Yeah you all know how this works.
Let the randomness begin to settle the next champion!

((OOC: Just a very short story thrown up after todays little spirit trial))

A dying fire cast it's faint illumination around the room, showing the outline of a large bed with a figure twisting and tossing.
Finally lying still, Therak opened his eyes and ran a hand across his face with a groan.
He looked around the room, needing a moment to remember where he was before recognizing his own home. The wind was howling outside his window, and the chill was seeping into the room. In spite of the small fire his breath was misting as he slid his feet over the edge of the bed, finding his woolen indoor boots and slipping down into them. His left hand found his cane, leaned against his bedside table and with it supporting him he pushed himself to his feet, clenching his teeth at the painful protests of his left knee.
Therak limped over to the fireplace and added another couple of logs to the fire, making it flare up and light up the room with its soft glow.
With the fire fed, he finally put on a thick woolen robe to keep his warmth and opened the door to his office, he walked over to make sure the door into the rest of the house was locked before immediately walking over to his bookshelf.
"That was one seriously screwed up dream." He muttered to himself as he pulled out a book named 'Mating Rituals of the Mana Wyrm' and reached in behind it to depress
a hidden button in the back of the shelf.
The bookshelf soundlessly opened inwards, letting Therak into his archive.
He ran his hand across the backs of the books, reading the names as he moved down the line. Devilstep Krogon, Feraleye Kozgugore, Feralheart Morgeth, Sharptongue Sadok, pulling out that one before stopping at 'Steelheart Rhonya' and bringing them out to his desk.
Sitting down, he brought out ink and a quill and scratched a few notes in the margins of the well filled books, ending with a questionmark. Before leaving the books out to dry, before returning to his room and getting properly dressed.
He was awake already... He might aswell begin to prepare todays classes. He brought out a paper and began to write down instructions in a cipher. The youngsters would have to work hard to finish todays tasks...

On the 6th the next expansion will be unveiled ( as announced here http://eu.battle.net/wow/en/blog/19841681/new-world-of-warcraft-expansion-unveiling-at-gamescom-2015-live-stream-august-6-29-07-2015 )
What are your thoughts? What'll it be? I'm expecting that it can be something with water. We've begun something with the garrison, and the harbor. Wouldn't be a major step to a personal ship being your 'base' or similar.
So perhaps Azshara (who have been a theory before almost every expansion, admittedly) and Naga. I'm also hoping to see something more to be done with crafting... WoD crafting just sucked in my opinion.

So, what are your thoughts and hopes?

Where the elements war
a fisherman has made his home
Some on his table, butchered by his cleaver
How many has he hung, victims of his fishing fever?

By a noisy town, where things are brought from afar
Near a hangmans noose with coffins ajar
A place for the dead, buried in the ground
How many markers can be found?

In a place away from prying eyes, a home for the shady.
What goods can you buy from the only merchant lady?

A place of testing, and honing ones edge.
Under a stretched canvas, beneath a ledge.
Three orcs stay, working their trade
What sits by the northern fire, that they have made?

[Name:]

Name: Therak Duskstalker
Alias: Crude
Rank: Varog'Gor

Age: Late twenties
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Clan: Clanless
Class: Rogue
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Family: Vaala (Daughter) and Thu'uk (Son)
Known Friends: Sinami Swifthowl
Known Enemies:

Appearance:
Therak is very thin for an orc, and a bit on the short side. But wiry, rather then malnourished.
His armor is decorated with fur, and his cloak with its hood seems to be made from the same material, perhaps Garn fur?
What looks like tribal tatoos snake their way from his left hand, up across the shoulder and through his face, stopping at his eyes. A long scar runs from his brow across his left eye, all the way down to his chin. His torso is covered by a multitude of scars and if you look closely you can find a faint "X" shaped scar hidden beneath his beard
His cloak is made from the fur of a wolf, its face creating a hood.

Personality:
Therak is usually calm, preferring to think things through rather then rush headlong into anything. He's happy to make jokes, and smile around the campfire.
He likes his secrets, often answering vaguely or changing the topic when someone tries to dig to deeply into them. Trust from him is something earned over time, likely a long time. As such he makes friends very slowly.
There are those who would (and is) calling Therak paranoid. Which isn't quite true, he's willing to give most a chance, or a second chance provided their crimes hasn't gone too far. But suspicious behaviour will make him suspicious and leave anyone less trusted by him.
He's fond of good food, and has quite a sweet tooth. Quite blatantly satisfying it by the campfire. At least he's not averse to sharing his food.

History:
Theraks first memories are of starvation in an internment camp. What little food he got was often stolen from him by the bigger orcs.
Throughout those first few years the guards were kinder to him then his own kind ever was. Some of them would give him a bit of bread when noone else was around, and through that keeping him from starving to death.
The camp was put to the sword by the time Therak was six or seven, with only a handful survivors escaping. Therak being one of them.
His next contact with orcish society, was a group of scouts trapped in a snowstorm. Therak found them and led them to shelter in a bearby cave. They explained in common (Therak hadn't yet had the chance to learn to speak orcish) that they were on their way to join the rest of their people, to take ships east.
They invited him to come along and gave him the name 'Snowstorm' to go with Therak, in memory of how he'd saved them.
Therak spent the Third War as a scout, not taking part in the direct fighting but rather keeping the armies informed of movements and clusters of enemies.
After the war was over, he found himself unwelcome anywhere he tried. He didn't belong to any of the clans, and that made him suspicious.
Slowly getting pushed further and further away, finding no place to stay longer then the night he began to turn to robbing those on the roads to make a living.
It was just a matter of time before he began to attract too much attention, travellers began to travel in groups, or hiring guards. And the Grunts and Sentinels began patrolling the area to a point where he just could not stay.
Instead, he made his way to Orgrimmar, joining the Sixty Thieves and taking the name 'Crude'.
He early on became trusted by the leadership, after he was offered to join an attempt to overthrow the leadership, played along and turned them all in to the Enforcer.
It was shortly after this that Therak had his first brush with the Red Blades. Greggar Ironfoot, a former Thief ran in to Therak in Grom'gol, telling him that he should join the Red Blades instead. Therak turned him down, but was told he could always find a place among them should he change his mind.
Therak thanked him politely for his offer, but made it clear he knew where his home was. With the people who had given him a chance.
Theraks quick wit, and talent for the underhanded saw him rising in rank and trust among them. In the quick handovers of power, first from the Bandit King to his right hand, then from her to Boom, the former trickster. Therak found himself named Enforcer, and in charge of discipline and making sure the other thieves kept to what few rules they had. It wasn't long until he was also in charge of dealing with the troubles with the Red Blades, Therak made a deal with them, and came down hard on any Thief who broke the deal. Anyone wearing a Red Blade tabard was off limits.
The deal held, but barely.
It was around this time a female orc joined the Thieves, by the name of Morgeth.
She took the name 'Taint' in recognition of her fel powers and the stains it had left on her hands.
Therak ended up taking Morgeth in as his protegé, trying to teach her to survive in the cut-throat life of Orgrimmars underworld.
Therak was the one to give Morgeth her 'X' shaped marked, carved into the palm of her hand.
Morgeth and Therak became friends, and eventually even something more. That something died the day Therak faked his death, not informing Morgeth beforehand, to make the whole thing more convincing.
Their friendship turned sour, they ended up fighting almost every time they met, Physically or verbally. Eventually, Morgeth left the thieves and Therak used what influence he had to make them leave her alone.
Boom was never a good bandit king, unpredictible and with a nasty streak. The Thieves didn't like him, but kept their peace until he one night led a small group of them and torched the Orgrimmar Orphanage.
A week later Boom had been stuffed into a barrel, and the barrel filled with sand and nailed shut.
The title of Bandit king was up for grabs, and it was between 'Ghost' and 'Crude'.
Therak didn't want it, preferring to remain behind the scenes, instead taking the place as Right Hand.
Before long, this new Bandit King had also gone overboard. He was cruel, going as far as to rape one of the Thieves. The beginnings of another rebellion was building. Many Thieves looked to 'Crude' as the logical choice, rallying behind his banner before even talking to him to see if it was something he wanted.
Therak escaped in the best way he knew how to. He faked his death again, this time he didn't return.

Therak spent some time travelling, one night running into Morgeth. True to their usual form they fought, but this time it went further. Morgeth began to tear Theraks soul from his body, only at the last moment stopping herself and using more fel magic to force it back.
It took weeks before Therak realized he was getting ill, and weeks more before anyone could tell him what was wrong. Something had tagged along when his soul was forced back into his body, slowly spreading and causing organs to start failing. In time he managed to keep it in check by a ward, that was still feeding off his life force. So the illness was kept in check, but the thing that kept it in check was slowly killing him.

The Lich Kings invasion from the north, and the following assault on Northrendtook Theraks attention away from trying to find a long term cure. Instead he spent his time scouting, and fighting with other units up there. At one point serving under Gnash Stronghand. After a few months, Gnash went to rejoin the Red Blades. He told Therak that he'd be welcome to join them. Therak said no, choosing instead to go home and rest. Maybe even finding the chance to be cured of his illness.

Over time he got worse, a particularely nasty attack with fel pushing his illness into taking his sight. As such he spent the last months before the Lich Kings fall, and then the time until Deathwings fall wandering as a blind orc.

An old shaman offered Therak to see what he could do about his eyes. Therak, not having mentioned it at all got suspicious, but accepted the offer. Next thing he knew he woke up on the ground, able to see. The old orc was nowhere to be found.

A few months later Therak decided to take up the offers on joining the Red Blades, if nothing else it would be a good place to die.
He figured he could stay out of Morgeths sight long enough to prove himself an asset, and give her more difficulty to get rid of him. Unfortunately she found him too soon. And only through clever manipulation did he manage to get the chance to prove himself before she killed him.
Sadok tutored Therak as a New Blood, and he was given tasks ranging from leading  a pack in a hunt, to writing a poem.
After he finally took his oath in Tanaris, not much happened. Somehow he worked out an accords with Morgeth, where she only tried to kill him occasionally.
In time, he and Grogona Marshfang (later Wolfheart) grew closer, first friends and then more. They named their son Thu'uk, after Theraks dead brother.
But as time passed, him and Grogona grew apart, to the point that when he got ill again, and began coughing blood. She wouldn't even look at him, instead he relied on Rhonya who had became a good friend, and with a lot of work and a final desperate attempt. He was cured from his affliction.
Not long after that, the rebellion against Garrosh broke out in truth, the tribe was slow to join but eventually did. Taking part in a campaign going through Ashenvale, into Azshara and finally into Orgrimmar itself. During this campaign Bloodmark ascended as Chieftain and shortly after Therak ended up leaving Grogona for Rhonya. Finding some measure of happiness in having a real mate.
Therak was raised to be one of the first of the Tribes Gul'thauk, later becoming the Alpha Gul'thauk. Leading them all, in the absence of a Varog'Gor.
Rhonya and Therak ended up having a daughter, who they named Vaala, who was born after a shipwreck in Westfall.
Eventually, Therak was raised to be Varog'Gor to Rargnasha, an orc he had little like, or even respect for. Their views differed on what a Varog'Gor should be. Therak thought they should put the tribe first, Rargnasha that they should put the Chieftain first. But he remained Varog'Gor, through the assault on the Dark Portal and into the Draenor of the Iron Horde. Here Rargnasha stepped down as Chieftain, again leaving Kozgugore as the Chieftain, something Therak appriciated. Their views on the Varog'Gors duties were a closer match.
Not long before they finally returned to Azeroth, Rhonya left Therak. In the same breath as she broke of their oaths, she demanded that Therak keep his. Something that left Therak with a deep distrust, and dislike for his former love.

Things you may know about this character:

• Therak likes good food, often cooking at the campfire, sharing with anyone who is there.
• Therak often sits by the fire, opening and reading stacks of letters. Throwing them to burn as he's done reading them.
• He has a fondness for using caltrops in many situations
• Therak doesn't like killing in cold blood, or for no good reason, often preferring to just knock his opponent out if it's possible.
• He has a knack for surviving against the odds, having recovered from such things as a broken neck and being trampled by a pit lord.
• He doesn't particularely dislike the Alliance, he'll fight them when he has to, but he has several friends among them.
• Theraks firstborn, Thu'uk was not with Rhonya, but with Grogona.
• Therak prefers the snow to the warmth of places like Durotar and the Barrens
• Therak is uncomfortable in the presence of spirits, often not even hearing or seeing them during tribe rituals.

Things you may not know about this character:

• Therak has many friends in the Alliance, people he are in regulat contact with about mutual interests.
• Therak is hurt by how the tribe often sees him as an assassin, turning to him to learn of poisons, or how others call him 'Scorpion' and 'Serpent'. On one hand, it serves his image as Varog'Gor, on the other it's far from who he is. He'd much rather be seen as who he really is.
• Therak has a severe allergy against some key component in healing potions, making his throat swell and possibly killing him. As such he avoids any such thing
• Therak sees himself as someone outside the tribe looking in, rather then someone they'll come to to talk with. The only times orcs seek him out is when they need something.
• Therak fears his own death, worried what might happen after. He knows what he's done in the past is likely to make him unwelcome in the eternal plains... if he even ends up there...

Memorable Quotes:
"If they have ouchy feet. They can't chase me down. If they can't chase me down. I'm a happy orc." - To Krogon when he expressed worry about Theraks love for using Caltrops
"Life is a game, we're all pieces on the board. Either you move the pieces around you or they'll move you. Make your choice before it's too late." - To Morgeth, trying to teach her the ways of the world
"Think, assess, act." - Another attempt to explain to Morgeth on how to be.

Other Information:

Seems there was a bit of interest in the question thread for quotes. So I thought why not have a thread for it?
Here's the place to throw in your favourite inspirational quote, movie oneliner or maybe even a line from a song you like.

I'll start it off with one of my favourites.

The harder the world, the fiercer the honour. - Dancer (From the Malazan Book of the Fallen, by Steven Erikson)

A lone guardian on an open plain.
Between two giants he stands.
The strength of elements his virtue.
How many torches does he hold?

Starts like a greeting.
Surrounded by tent and flame.
Tell me my friends.
What is the craftsmans name?

By the sea, overlooking a bay.
Cave home to a strange fisherman.
Be careful, and hope he's asleep.
How many rods does he keep?

That's the three riddles!

[What was your first encounter with the tribe?]

In an attempt to do more then just 'bump' our recruitment thread on the realm forums. Koz came with the idea of having little interviews with members of the guild.
So, I got to work and began doing just that. I'll definately get around to speaking to more of you in the future, so be prepared!

First out, is our very own Head Honcho, the Boss, the Chief. The Wolfking, Kozgugore!

What was your first encounter with the tribe?

I -could- cheat a little and say that my very first interaction with the tribe was actually when it wasn't called "Orcs of the Red Blade" yet. In fact, it was a different guild entirely, as there was once a guild called "Sons of Draenor" that was formed upon the announcement of the RP-PvP realms, along with several other race-specific guilds. They all agreed they would settle on the server of which the name would come first in the alphabetical order (which happened to end up becoming Defias Brotherhood as opposed to Venture Co.), and that's where the ball started rolling. To make a long story short though, the guild died out due to officer inactivity within the server's first month, but Akesha was in the guild along with me and decided to branch off and make her own guild, which ended up becoming the Orcs of the Red Blade as we know it today. I remember my first IC interaction in that context was with Akesha in the Valley of Strength in Orgrimmar, talking about her idea. And that's pretty much where it started off, even though, granted, I didn't join it right away, stubborn as I was at the time!

What did convince you to join in the end then?

Well... the realisation that I wasn't going to get involved in any raiding anyway, haha! I had a naive idea that I could still get involved in some serious raiding while trying to keep loose contacts with the RP guilds. As it turned out though, hunters weren't really all that very much sought after anyway. So I think it was when my urge to RP became greater than my urge to PvE that I decided to make the final switch, and forced myself to jump over that final hurdle to introduce myself to the others (it can be intimidating to suddenly acquaint yourself with a whole gang of orcs!) that I finally joined. Better late than never!

A lot must have changed since you joined. What are the biggest differences between then and now?

Definitely! Apart from the obvious game-related changes and the changes in the RP community itself, the guild has made quite a few developments since. For better or for worse, the guild feels a little more "serious" nowadays. Events were more sporadic those days, not necessarily set on specific days in the week as they are now, and they were of a different nature as well. Sure, there were story-driven events or random RP, but the majority of them were more socially-inclined, like camp fires, tournaments, meetings, those kinds of things. Another interesting change in that regard is that there was a lot more silliness, such as naked dancing, a lot of drunkness, spontaneous attacks on Alliance towns, RP surrounding Oznack's old socks... you get the idea. You can still see some of that on the old footage we have lying around on Youtube somewhere. I suppose some might consider it a loss, while others might consider it a gain, but RP has, in general, become a little more "reasonable" in the sense that one typically needs a good reason to attack an Alliance settlement or to suddenly dance naked around a fire.

Haha, sounds like fun times. What of Koz, did he turn out as you thought? Or did he deviate from your original concept?

I suppose as is inevitable when you play a character for nearly ten years, he slowly begins to change over time. Better yet, he was supposed to be a shaman by the time RP-PvP servers were announced and I began making up the character, because I really wanted to try out a shaman. Then it turned out the guild I was planning to be in already had a whole lot of shaman to go around with as it is, so I changed him into a hunter, my second favoured class, and I ended up using the shaman idea as a background story for his character instead. What's more, he was supposed to be a simple scout and a follower, since I figured that would be the easiest concept to RP as the relative beginner that I was and I wanted to keep it fairly simple so that he could remain out of the spotlight a little. Ironically enough, I suppose it was exactly that sense of obedience that ended him up in a position of leadership and eventually as a Chieftain, which naturally brought quite a few personality changes with it over time. Not only from an IC perspective, but because OOC, as a person, I kind of grew up along with Koz as well. I was sixteen years old when I started playing him, went through the usual trouble you'd go through as a teenager and a young adult along with him, and like to think I kind of grew "older and wiser" along with him.

Do you have any specific strong memory of the role playing you've done on Koz after you joined the tribe?

There's sooo many of them, I wouldn't even know where to begin recounting them all. But if I have to pick one in particular, I'd go for the very first Anniversary War I organised. Along with ORB and several other guilds, we held a series of server-wide RP-PvP encounters, the climax of which, to me at least, was the Battle at the Path of Glory in Hellfire Peninsula. We spent the entire evening and night fighting back and forth between Thrallmar and Honor Hold there. Both sides were evenly matched, had glorious encounters on both ends, and everyone remained a good sport and IC pretty much all night. I remember having an exam the very day afterwards, and after I tried to go to sleep, all I could see when I closed my eyes was the Alliance chasing me down. Needless to say, I barely had any sleep at all before that exam. Still made it though!

Finally, if you could get one thing added into the game for roleplaying purposes. What would that be?

Only one? There's waaaaay too many that I could think of! Custom dice, facial expressions, poses, manipulating the map by adding player-made buildings or such... But if I had to choose just one in particular, that would be active maintenance and support of the RP servers from Blizzard. Simple as that. It wouldn't even be a new feature - the rules and regulations are kind of out there already - but actually upholding said rules and ensuring there's a realm where all RPers could come together without having to worry about any other elements that might take them out of their immersion would make a world of difference in itself. Everything else would just be a nice, extra luxury beyond that.


If you have someone you'd like to see interviewed? Throw a reply here with the name and I'll see what I can do! Keep in mind that I have a lot of names on my list and it does take a little bit of time to do this. So it might not happen instantly.
But stay tuned for the next part of Caught in the Spotlight!

Warm water surrounded him, driving the chill from his bones and relaxing his muscles. He'd always sworn by the healing properties of a good, warm soak and it really did make both his ribs and his arm feel better. The ribs had almost healed by now, and his arm was well enough to be used for simple and easy tasks. It was a bit of a trek, but it was worth it to stay clean and for the bit of peace and quiet he could find here.
The rest of the tribe had gone out to raid the Thunderlords, he was in no shape to join them and there was some guilt weighing down on him over that. It's not that he liked fighting, but as a Varog'gor he felt like he -should- be there.
But in his current shape he'd only be a burden, in need of protection from the others. Better he stayed back so he wouldn't weigh them down...

Footsteps from behind stirred him from his thoughts. He turned to see who'd come to join him, and at the sight of the Thunderlords dove towards his blades.
Lightning struck him and everything turned black.

Pain. That was what they used in their attempts to make him talk. At first there'd been the threats of it, leaving him hanging from his chains overnight. It hadn't broken him, nor had they expected it to. It was just a beginning.
They'd left no fire by him, leaving him naked and chained in the cold. At least he was out of the wind.
At dawn they'd come for him again, asking their questions. "Where do you strike next?" or "What camps have you scouted?". Those were the questions they truly wanted answered, but they'd ask him everything they could think of. From his own name, to if he had cubs and their names. They promised him they'd let him go once he'd answered, lies of course. He knew that. They'd promised him a swift death if he cooperated. That too was a lie he suspected.
When their questions were answered by silence, the beatings began.
These weren't sophisticated torturers with an intimate knowledge of causing pain without causing real damage. There were no thin needles expertly pushed into the flesh, no hot irons pushed against sizzling skin, there wasn't even sharp blades to seperate skin from muscle.
What there was however, was blunt instruments and beatings. And there was alot of them.
At first there was just slaps and punches, demands to speak in between. When Therak remained silent they went further, they began kicking him, taking their agressions out on the helpless orc.
During the second night he made his first attempt at escape.
They'd removed him from the chains long enough to move him somewhere when he took his chance, lashing out with his good arm and taking one of his captors in the throat and stepping sideways to have them all on the same side.
The butts of their spears made short work of that attempt, he was too beat up to put up enough resistance.
After that they didn't remove him from the chains at all.

By the fourth day they weren't even asking questions. They were just beating him, taking their anger out. The butts of their spears would strike into his chest, breaking the ribs again. Then their menders would come, placing their hands on him and forcing the bones to re-knit just enough for them to be stable. Mending any life threatening internal injuries before stepping back, allowing their kin to continue.
Therak howled and screamed, they didn't bother dampening the pain when the bones were forced back together. Things became a blur of pain, the blessed relief of unconsciousness and the return to the painful reality.
Inside his head he repeated one thing over and over again
"The pain will not last, they will kill me or I will be freed. They may break me, but they will never crush me. The pain is a spiders web in the mouth of a cave. I will push past it and out into the open. I will be free in death or life. I. Will. Be. Free."

Large, fat, soft snowflakes were gently falling through the air as Therak stepped out of the hut. The sun hadn't quite risen above the horizon, leaving the pre-dawn grey and murky. There was only a gentle breeze, and not even the Frostwolves were truly up and about. A handful of huts had smoke rising from them and it was mostly quiet.
Therak smiled to himself, looking up to the sky to let the snowflakes brush across his face on their way down. He stood there for several moments before seemingly reaching a decision, removing his hat and sneaking back into the hut to leave it on his backpack.
As confident as he'd tried to seem when he spoke to Rhonya, and in spite of hers, and Feraleyes confidence he wasn't nearly as sure of his chances as he'd like to be.
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and went back out into the snow.

The snowfall continued without pause By now the sun was truly up, turning the snow covered plains of Frostfire into a glittering surface that almost hurt Theraks
eyes. He was holed up in shelter from the wind in a small opening in a cliff. Too small to be called a cave, it still offered shelter from the wind while he boiled water for tea, ate a few strips of dried meat and worked on a piece of bark to make thin slits for his eyes in order to keep his eyes from the snow blindness.
So far, his journey had been uneventful. Trudging west through the snow, avoiding other travellers while looking for his prey.
What had he gotten himself into? ...A great wolf... With no weapons...
He chuckled faintly, without any real amusement. He couldn't imagine backing down from it now, not after his discussion with Feraleye. Not after having been tasked with it by an orc he found himself respecting to that degree.
'Seems times aren't the only thing changing...' he muttered to himself before downing his tea and packing his things to leave again.

The glare of the reflected snow was much more managable now with the bark shielding his eyes from the worst of it. His steps took him further west, wading through the snow, in some places it reached as high as his waist. By the time he reached the western reaches proper he was tired and sweaty beneath his furs. He crested a small hill, taking a moment to breathe and rest while looking out across the landscape. He was still outside what was supposedly the lands where they roamed, but in the distance he could see a pack of them. Or at least he thought it was a pack of them, fortunately they were still distant. A whole pack would tear him apart like a chewtoy.
He took another deep breath, pushing the thought aside. He could still turn back, still return... But could he? Could he and still face himself when he woke? He'd promised to do this, it'd prove something.
He turned to look back, only to face a wolf seemingly as tall as he was, already crouching to pounce and leap at him. The brown fur covering lean muscles coiled to put the force into it.
All he could do was throw himself backwards, reduce the force of the massive package of muscle and teeth as it slammed into him.
They tumbled down the hillside, kicking up a cloud of snow. The wolf trying to go for the throat while Therak desperately struggled and wriggled to avoid his death just a little longer. He briefly considered going for a knife, but even if he decided to do so it would have been impossible to spare one of his hands long enough.
He could feel the teeth snapping, could feel the breath of the beast washing across his face, could smell the stench of death coming from it. His hands kept trying to shove the jaws aside, one way then the other while his head and neck twisted to buy himself time. His knees kept trying to find enough force slamming into the ribs of the beast, but it didn't seem to have much of an effect.
Pain flared into his arm as the creature bit through his furs, staining them and the snow around them red. Therak roared in pain, and to his surprise, in anger as the beast shook its head. He kicked out immediately, more in panic and pain addled confusion then with any true purpose. His feet connected with... something, making his opponent let out a mix between a yelp and a growl. But more importantly, making it lose the grip around his arm. Therak didn't let up for a moment, he slammed one hand down on the top of the nose, the other clawing towards the eyes of the beast. He gathered both his feet close to him and pushed off, finally getting the beast to roll sideways off him.
Therak rolled with it, landing on top if it and raining blows with his fists, elbows and even biting it. The wolf recovered swiftly and began rolling back to crush him beneath it, but Therak scurried aside and actually managed to get on to its back. The beast kept rolling, but this time Theraks head had cleared, and as it rolled he slammed his thumb into its eye.
The eye popped and the beast howled, still trying to roll in order to dislodge the small orc clinging to it, an orc who was digging his thumb deeper and deeper.
The beast rolled a final time, pinning Therak beneath it. He could feel ribs cracking, but all he could do was keep digging with his thumb. It was finally all the way through, and then the wolf shook and shuddered before all movement ceased.

Getting out from beneath the beast was a time consuming and painful affair. His left arm was while not entirely useless, certainly not much help. Fortunately the snow was deep here, and he could dig a little downwards and finally crawl out.
His first look at the wolf was... a dissapointment. It'd seemed much bigger when it was coming for him, and it certainly felt bigger when it was crushing him beneath it.
It was still large, just smaller then the Garn he'd seen at a distance once. And fortunately it'd been alone.
If Feraleye didn't think this was enough... He could go hunt his own damn beast...
First things first, he had to bind his wounded arm, then he could begin taking the skin...

Therak came stumbling into Wor'gol at nightfall, the rolled up wolf skin tied to his back...

[Spoiler:]

(( Suitable music track to listen to during the story
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CwxN9NkaJUA
))

The warm night was deceptively quiet as Therak sat in the candlelight and finished the last letter. His eyes anything but dry as he sealed it with a few drops of wax and wrote a single name on it. 'Mira'.
He smiled sadly, at least he'd been able to see them one more time...
The letter joined the others and he looked over at Rhonya. She was sleeping as badly as he had, twisting and turning. It was always hard to sleep the night before a battle, and one where they were almost certainly facing certain death just made it even harder.
He knew why they had to go, if anything he'd prefer to go straight away. At least the waiting would be over then...
Saying goodbye to the cubs had been difficult enough, but he'd saved the crying for after. They seemed to understand there was something different, but not what.
Vaala had been wailing and wouldn't stop, Mirek had just sobbed quietly but the others had been unusually quiet. That had just made it worse...
He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes before whispering under his breath.
"I hope you five will be able to forgive me... Forgive me and maybe even one day understand why we're doing this..."
His voice was stuffy and broken in a way he'd not allowed himself in public. Kozgugores lesson had stuck that well at least. A Varog'Gor isn't just the Chieftain's bodyguard. they are dedicated to preserving the heart of the tribe. They are to be examples and something for other orcs to look up to...
With a sigh he blew out the candle and joined Rhonya in the furs, trying to at least get some sleep...


Letter to Vaala

Spoiler: show

Vaala, my dear daughter.
I understand words are little comfort for growing up without your parents. But I hope you can one day understand the reason me and your mother made the choice we did...
There are so many things I had hoped to teach you as you grew up. Among them were the fact that sometimes there comes a time when doing something is more important then life itself. More important then seeing your children grow up, because you know that you're giving them the chance to do so.
When the Dark Portal turned red, and spewed out the Iron Horde, the Red Blades, including your mother and I found our time.
They came shortly after we left from celebrating the Kosh'harg, I don't know how much you remember. But we were forced to retreat quickly, and as soon as we safely could, we sent you and your siblings back to safety. It didn't take long to realize that even with reinforcements from both Horde and Alliance we were outmatched, and a decision was made to launch an assault to push into the portal and bring it down from the other side.
In effect, a mission from which there would be no return even if we were successful.
It wasn't an easy choice to make, to abandon you or any of the children. But it's a choice we'd make again.

By now you may have noticed a few differences between you and your siblings. Perhaps you don't have an as easy time losing your temper, perhaps you're a little smaller then they are. There's a reason for it, and with time you may be able to figure it out by yourself. Your "Uncle Spiderbite" knows. If you suspect what it may be I suggest speaking to him in private. He'll tell you when you're older otherwise.

I've made sure that none of you will ever lack for money, and whatever you wish to become I have faith that Spider will be able to find you a suitable teacher. I'd hoped to be able to pass my own knowledge on to one of you and I'm sure your mother would have liked to do the same. But instead all we can do is pass down some things through letters.

There's so many things I expected to say as a father, things like "Follow your heart". It's good advice in many situations. Be it finding a mate or choosing what path to walk in life. But it's also important to follow your head, sometimes your heart may want something that is wrong, that'll cause more damage then it's worth. I hope you learn to find your own balance in that.

I also hope you don't follow in those of my footsteps that led to my time as a Thief, they were not worth it and the damage I did can never truly be repaired. It might seem tempting, and even romantic to a point. But in reality it's a lonely life, with few who wouldn't abandon you, or even betray you to save their own skin, or make a bit of money.

I also hope you never have to face the realities of war, but I know it's a slim hope at best knowing the world for what it is. Battle is a nasty thing, loud, painful and you always leave a part of yourself at every battlefield. Some claim there's glory in it, but I've never found it myself. There's times where not fighting is worse then fighting would be, and then there's reason to go to battle. But many rush into battle when the whole situation could be solved by talking, or even walking away.

I could write you a thousand pages and yet never quite feel I've said all I wanted.
So instead I'll end the letter here.
I love you more then life itself.
Your father
Therak Duskstalker

Letter to Thu'uk

Spoiler: show

Thu'uk, my firstborn.
I never thought I'd have to write a letter like that, and I understand that you would have preferred if I'd been there to speak to you myself. I would have preferred that myself.
But if wishes were wings, peons would fly.
I don't know if your mother left any letter for you, we don't speak much. You had absolutely nothing to do with that. We both love you, even though we no longer love eachother.

The Iron Horde came bursting through the portal, and to stop them we're going through it to shut it down on that side. If we'd done so from here it might have torn our world apart.
It's a parents duty, and not just duty but willingness to lay down their lives in the protection of their children. It's not a decision to be taken lightly, and in this case it wasn't. But failing would have meant your deaths, and so we went.

You may have noticed some differences in tempers and size between you and the other cubs. Spider will explain things when you're old enough, if you've not guessed it yourself by then...

I've done my best to make sure you're all provided for, money should never be a problem and you'll have the best teachers that can be arranged for whatever paths you wish to take in life.
I wish I could have been around to teach you some myself, but as I can't there will be friends of mine there for you. Spider first among them but there'll be others too.

I wish I could have been there to see you grow, see you find your place in life and finally see you have children of your own. When you have them, I hope you'll understand better why we made the choices we did, even if it meant leaving you behind.

I grew up without family too, except for an 'uncle' who took me in and taught me. I hope us not being there for you doesn't lead you down on the wrong path in life. It just does more harm then good even though it seems simple and easy. Or maybe especially when it does. Follow your heart, and follow your mind. But more important then those is to follow your conscience. It will rarely lead you wrong. Every time I didn't follow mine I found myself regretting it.

Part of me hopes that you'll find a safe profession, one to keep you away from the horrors of war and the loss and pain found in it. But that choice will be yours, there are things worth dying for and I hope you find yours in time, even if it leads you to the battlefield.

You're the second oldest among the lot, Skorm will need your help keeping an eye on them, you're all a handful and I doubt that'll change.

There's not enough words in existance to tell you all the things I wanted to... But my time is short so know this. I love you, and I'd face any end to keep you safe.

Your Father
Therak Duskstalker.

Letter to Skorm

Spoiler: show

Skorm, son of my heart if not by blood.
I'm sorry I won't be there to see you grow up. I would have liked to but the situation we're in when I write this is desperate. If we didn't fear for what would have happened if we hadn't gone we would have stayed with you and your siblings.

You're the eldest, with that comes some responsibilities. Responsibilities that you'd have had even if we were there, but will weigh even heavier now.
You'll have to keep an eye on the others, even if it's not by much. You'll be older, and that leaves them looking up to you. It doesn't mean you should boss them around, but be there with advice and help keep them safe.
So please keep an eye on them for me.

I've done what I can to make sure none of you will ever lack for money, and that you'll have teachers to help you find your place in life.
Money isn't everything, in fact the best things in life comes without the need for it. Friends, love... family. That is why your mother and I have to go, because all of you are worth more to us then our lives. If we can keep you safe by dying, we will. That's what parents do. I hope you one day will have children of your own and understand what I mean.

There's alot of things I wanted to tell you, and teach you. But I'll settle for one thing.
Stay away from the fel. It might be tempting, but in the end it always ends badly...
Promise me that, if you promise anything.
I've had my dusts with it, it almost cost me my life. But it also cost me much more, I've yet to meet one person who hasn't lost more then they gained, even if they don't see it immediately.

It is my honest hope that you never see battle, never have to deal with the horrors of it. Or worse, get so jaded it no longer is a horror.
I hope that you will live in times of peace, and times of joy. But I fear even if we succeed that hope won't come true. If you do see battles and war, at least fight for something that you care about, and something that is right.

No matter how much I write, I'll never be able to say all I wanted.
But know that I love you, more then my own life.
Your 'father'
Therak Duskstalker

Letter to Mirek

Spoiler: show

Mirek, my son in spirit if not in flesh.

It's no easy task leaving ones children behind and marching towards what is likely to be our deaths. Not being your true father does not change that.
I love you, and your siblings equally. Make no mistake of that. And when the Iron Horde came, and our choice came down to going and making a difference or staying and not even trying... Your mother and I felt we had to go. For the future of all of you. Even if that future would be without your parents...
You always were your mothers son, always clinging to her and never quite wanting to let go. Even more so the last time we saw you... I hope by the time you're reading this you have found strength elsewhere and have found the courage and confidence I in my heart know is inside you.

I've done my best to arrange things so that none of you will lack for money, and will have good teachers when that time comes. You'll be looked after and you will have the support and guidance to find your own place in the world.
I've never been one to pray to the spirits, but I hope they will allow you to find your place to be one of peace and prosperity. That is one of the reasons we felt we had to go.

There are many kinds of advice I'd love to give you. Things like to never stop dreaming, to always chase those dreams as long as your conscience allows you. But in the end I'll settle for this.
Don't let your twin sister push you around too much.
Perhaps you'll laugh at this, or perhaps you'll smile at how wrong I am. But from what I saw she has a strong will and is happy to apply it to get her way.
Stand your ground when it matters to you, it'll do her good to not always win.

I wish I'd had the time to see you grow, and be there for you as you did. I wish I could have had the years left to see you have children of your own one day.
Unfortunately I don't have that luxury.

I could keep writing until long after the assault on the Portal. But I can't, there are things that I need to get done before then. I would never manage to get everything I wanted down anyway. So I'll just end the letter here.

Grow up to be a fine orc. You have the love of both me and your mother.

Your 'Father'
Therak Duskstalker

Letter to Mira

Spoiler: show

Mira, my adoptive daughter.

It's not easy to write this letter. I've written one to all your siblings already but that doesn't make it easier.
It's in the middle of the night, and tomorrow we march to what is most likely our deaths.
The choice was simple, but not easy. If we went, we'd likely die. And even if we succeeded we'd never see you again. If we didn't go, it would be out of our hands and perhaps it'd all fail and then you and your siblings would die along with us.
As a parent, if the choice is between your death and the deaths of your children... The choice will almost always be to go face death for them.

We love you dearly, and I have fond memories of what little time I had as an extra father for you. You were the curious one, the one who were up to mischief from the time you could walk. You weren't afraid of others, you played with anyone without hesitation.
It's a good trait, and if I was to give you one piece of advice it's to never stop exploring. Never stop learning, don't let anyone but you put a lid on your curiousity.
But don't let the curiosity rule you. There are dangers out there, there are things that are morally wrong. Let your conscience guide you in that, let your head rein you in when the danger outweighs the benefit. You rule your own fate, but that means you -have- to rule it rather than letting it rule you.

I've done my best to ensure none of you will lack for money. I could at least do that much for you, and I've arranged it so that you will have little trouble finding tutors in whatever area you wish to explore further.
Take the opportunity to do so. Knowledge is power, and even if you don't want power it gives you options that might not have been there otherwise.

I would like for nothing more then have you and your siblings grow up in times of peace and plenty. As small as that chance is, I cling to the hope. Just as I cling to the small hope your mother and I makes it on the other side of the portal.
But I understand that it is likely you will one day face war.
War, even today I sometimes wonder why we go to it. Even the survivors leave something behind on the battlefield, be it friends, limbs or something in our souls.
But maybe you'll have something that is too important to not let you stay back and let others fight.
In a way I hope you do, because then you have found something bigger and more important than yourself.

There's not enough time left to write down all I wanted to say. Not in a night, not in a month.
I love you, and I always will.

Your 'Father'
Therak Duskstalker

Morning came, as always far too soon. His body felt heavy even though his mind was alert enough. Rhonya was still turning in her sleep as he snuck out of the tent to begin on making breakfast.
He ate lightly, while looking out across camp. It was already bustling with slow, but purposeful activity. Many were as Therak, cooking. Others seemed to not eat at all. The red dust and the dry air made the smallest breeze kick up clouds of bothersome sand.
As they day passed, the mood of the camp was subdued. Of course there were the usual boasts and wagers. But even they seemed to lack the usual enthusiasm that was so often associated with army camps.
Therak and many others spent the time checking their equipment over and over.

Time passed at a crawl.

The assault itself was nothing but a chaotic blur. A constant dull aching of his whole body, parries and cuts into whatever exposed flesh he could find. His legs burned as he tried to keep close to both the Chieftain and his mate. Somewhere along the line the portal collapsed, covering the battlefield in a cloud of dust. The shouts went up "To the ships! To the Harbor!" and Therak did his best to urge Bloodmark and Rhonya in the right direction. In the chaotic scramble for safety Therak was jostled to the side, stumbling over a corpse and something heavy fell on him from behind.

He could see the ships in the distance, a heavy weight holding him down. Bloodmark's unmistakable form was making its way up the plank to one of them, and he thought he could see Rhonya on another one, then a something stomped over the tauren on top of him and everything went dark.

It was a good day for Fess'kar. At first he thought it was not, not when the Portal they had so painstakingly built had been ruined. Especially when Vemda, the she orc he had his eyes on was on the other side...
But then they'd routed the green skinned weaklings! Or well, the others had. Fess had been stuck guarding the supplies... Luckless Fess the other orcs had called him. Always Luckless Fess... But not so Luckless now!  While the others were tending their wounds, he had the chance to 'make sure the green bastards were dead'!
That meant he had an excellent opportunity to take anything he wanted off them too! Perhaps enough to finally attract a mate of his own! Vemda was pretty of course... But there were plenty of pretty she-orcs around. Soon they'd have to call him Luckblessed Fess! He chuckled to himself as he searched through the pockets of a horned furry creature, discarding a blood stained letter with contempt and pocketing a small pouch that clinked of metal.
Not much, but every little bit... He chuckled again as he thought of what he'd already collected.
Wait... there was an orc under the big one! And this one had a satchel. It -had- to contain something valuable...
It took several minutes to move the oversized bastard of an orc enough to finally be able to search the other one.
He scrambled up to the orc, shoving a worn and ugly hat aside, almost gigglesnorting as he saw the ring on the orcs finger.
'Now that's a nice color of metal... With that I'm sure to attract someone...' He muttered to himself and stretched out to tug at the ring, cursing as it wouldn't come off. Just as he was about to reach for his knife, and cut it loose the orc beneath him opened his eyes and his hand darted towards Fess'kars eye.

Things weren't changing for Luckless Fess... Not for the better at least...

Therak wiped his blade on the shirt of the orc he'd just stabbed. His victim was barely old enough to shave, but he pushed that thought firmly aside.
The shadows of Dusk had the world in its grip and that gave him some time to get his bearings. There was alot of activity down by the docks, clearly not friendly. There was no way he could take a ship on his own so he turned a half circle, his eyes landing on his hat.
A smile spread across his lips. 'Well, that's improved my day at least... I still have my hat.'
The darkness would hide his skin color at least, and if he took the helmet and shoulderpads of the dead orc he'd pass as one of them from a distance.
A few minutes later he'd managed to strap the too big shoulderpads to himself, and managed to remove the padding to put the uncomfortably tight helmet on his head.
Time to find a way out of here...

I'll start off with an OOC note.
This is an unspecified place and a somewhat vague time. The story is more for an insight into Theraks mind then accuracy. I know some of you don't usually sleep in camp and such. But for the purposes of this story you are. I hope you don't mind


The fire was crackling quietly in the night, giving off a faint glow and painting the orc sitting by it in dancing shadows. The moon was hidden behind a cloud and the only light except for the fire was from the stars.
Therak put another log on the fire, looking out across the camp and the unmoving forms of sleeping orcs.
Outside the boundaries of the camp stood a massive orc, unmoving in his watch. Caruk, the Gul'thauk, the Deathwalker. Untrustworty, dangerous and maybe even stupid. Any further slips would see him stripped of his rank, perhaps even his oath. A silent watcher, guarding against any threats from the outside.

Therak shook his head and looked in another direction, his eyes landing on Devilstep, the Blademaster, the oathbreaker. He wasn't sure how he could continue calling himself Blademaster with his constant missteps, killing children? No code of honor could see that as acceptible. Had he lost the respect of other Blademasters over it? Perhaps he'd look into that at some point...
The fire was ruining most of his night vision, but watching the perimeter was the duty of other orcs for now.

Gashuk was sleeping close to the fire, turning and muttering in his sleep. Troubled dreams by the sound of it. Not surprising considering his past, warlock, blood magic and all. Therak shuddered, Blood magic. Addicting and powerful, he always felt the call at the back of his mind. Always tempting. It must be even harder for the old orc. He'd have to be watched, so far he'd done good with his tasks to become Gul'thauk. But that only lasted as long as he kept things under control.

Not far away was Windwatcher, an odd orc by his standards. He didn't get the whole farseer thing, but she was usually good enough conversation. She seemed to try to be helpful and kind, and not afraid to accept help.

Gridish was bundled up in his blanket not too far away, a Rrosh-tul. Definately not the archetype for one. One of the few orcs who had actually switched path. Would he do so again? He had spent alot of time with the bolts... Time would tell. He did seem displeased with the tribe at times...

Therak took a swig from his waterskin, another horn and he'd be allowed to go back to his own place, and have Rhonya curled up against him again.
Rhonya, his mate. That had been a strange story, from friends, to brother and sister by oath. If she hadn't been cursed, would they have realized what was between them? It didn't matter now, because it had happened, and he loved her dearly. They had a beautiful daughter together, and he loved the three children she had before just as much as his own. They'd had their problems, but it worked out in the end. If he lost her he wouldn't know what he'd do.
He'd never expected things to get like that, that's for sure...

With some difficulty he tore his eyes from her, smirking to himself as they landed on Sadok, wrapped in Kyrazhas arms, almost like a child. That was another unlikely couple. Sadok, the orc who died. He remembered the death, the tribe had gone into the Plaguelands and Therak had slipped away to gather some things for the poison he was making. If he hadn't, could he have been there to stop the assassination? Perhaps, but he hadn't been there. He hadn't known there'd be an attempt. He had warned to be careful with any orcs showing up. But Sharptongue was sometimes as paranoid as Therak, and sometimes as naïve as a child. It didn't matter, he had died, came back as a Deathknight, his mind completely gone bonkers until his ressurection. A ressurection that came with a price, demands from the spirits. Would that be a problem in the future? He couldn't say, but he'd been quick to grab for power when the Chieftain had been indisposed...

And Kyrazha, Sharptongues mate, and his student. She had a good head on her shoulders, didn't know everything and certainly didn't think she did either. He remembered the tribes outrage when she'd fired an arrow next to him, they refused to see she missed intentionally. Then she'd not made herself noticable until the whole thing with her leaving Trakmar for Sadok. That'd been ugly business, but she'd taken his advice to make a choice and stick to it. Staying with someone she didn't love would have been worse then what had happened, it would have bottled up and the resulting explosion would have caused more damage. No, a swift cut was better. If the Chieftain hadn't taken so long to deal with the assault by Trakmar it would have been much simpler.
She might make a fine Gul'thauk, if she didn't lose her footing...

Then there was the Chieftain... Snoring loudly next to Grogona.
The Chieftain, whom he had sworn to protect above all others. Who had deliberately mistreated him for having taken Rhonya as his mate.
He wasn't a bad chieftain all in all, too proud and half the time too fond of keeping secrets from those who ought to have been informed. Even Therak realized the need for others to know, to make sure they didn't die with him.

Grogona was snoring almost as loud as the Chieftain. He wasn't sure what he felt about her anymore. What he had once felt was dead, no doubt about that. He hadn't even told her how sick he'd been, how close he'd been to death. And she hadn't asked, even when he kept coughing up blood. Still, they had a son together. He didn't hate her, but he didn't feel much at all towards her either.

He looked up as an orc came into the clearing. Nograx, having stood watch apparently. Nograx, the orc who'd been on the verge of exile for his behaviour. Now the orc screwing an elf. One of the Bolts, would he father a halfbreed? Would the child always stand outside society like so many others had? Therak knew what it felt like to never truly belong... He hoped that they wouldn't end up with a child... Not for them, but for the child. Especially with Nograx being Dragonmaw... they didn't take lightly on "contaminating" their blood...
After having kicked Groshnok awake for his turn, Nograx simply collapsed into his own furs, snoring within moments.

Groshnok... The drunk... He could still hear his laughter sometimes when he went to sleep. The sound still haunted him, reminded him of being on fire, twisting and rolling, for what felt like an eternety trying to put out the flames eating away at him. It wasn't the smell of burnt hair and skin, or the roaring of the flames in his ears that he remembered the clearest, but the laughter.
He shook his head to clear it, didn't want to think of that now...

Rashka was lying on the ground next to Groshnoks discared blanket. Too cocky by far most of the time. While she could back it up with her fists, she kept getting into trouble... Going to fight while pregnant? What were she thinking? She'd lost her child, would she even learn from that lesson? Time would tell...

Kradak stretched out at the edge of the camp, stark naked and with his blanket thrown off. Well, stark naked save for the helmet he was forced to wear.

It'd be such an easy thing to slit his throat, no one would doubt his word if he claimed to have seen a shadow stand over him and then rush off into the night.
But no, that wasn't who he was. The orc should have been cast out the moment he'd tried to recruit help to assassinate Therak. But apparently that wasn't a grave enough transgression. Another example that no matter what, he was still on the outside of the tribe. Always a stranger looking in on the others. He was a tool to be used, and discared once he was no longer useful. It never mattered how useful he got, it would never matter how he served the tribe. The moment he was not longer able to perform as expected he'd be cast aside.
All he could do was keep trying to be useful. Keep trying until the end.

There's a festival in Malmö (Sweden) Starting this friday and lasting a week. A lot of food, music and the like (No fee to enter the festival).
Any orcs in the area who wants to meet up for a while on the festival at one of the days? Nothing big, nothing fancy. Just meeting up, grabbing something to eat and such.

Light returned to the world, or a semblance of it at least. It brought along pain, and a sense of danger that Therak couldn't quite place.
Above him stood an unkown orc, his attire leaving little doubt on his attunement to the fel.
"Grhaghl thusdbi?"
Therak kept a close grip on the pouch in his hand. He knew that if he'd had that one in his hand there'd been trouble, and he could feel that his fel ward was broken. It didn't take a genious to put two and two together.
"What?"
He looked around himself, he was clearly on the floor of some cave that reeked of dark magic. Several other orcs stood around it, at least one more of them a fel user.
Outnumbered then, but they seemed intent on taking him alive...
The first fel user said something strange again and dragged Therak to his feet. They seemed to think he was confused... Good, he could use that.
The others started walking, some ahead of Therak, some behind. As they exited the foul smelling cave and crossed the bridge, they turned right. But as they apparently changed their minds and turned around. Therak made an attempt to keep walking, feigning his confusion and seing if he could dissapear before they realized it.
No such luck, a female clad in the garb of an assassin quickly caught up to him. This time he wasn't allowed to walk on his own, she grabbed his arm and kept ahold of it, dragging him towards an omnious looking tower in the distance.
The closer they got, the more he knew he had to make a break for it.
He snapped out with his arm, flinging the ground glass towards her face, a sudden yank freeing his other arm and then he turned to sprint away into the desolate wasteland. As soon as he could he began putting small hills, burnt out pillars and everything else he could to break their line of sight to him. He had to hide.

Later, he was curled up in a small hole next to a river of green, fel infused lava. They'd have a hard time finding him here.
He was making an inventory of what little he carried. He had some food, the biggest problem was he only had one skin of water. The other he carried was empty.
How far could he get on what he had, if he had to stay hidden from pursuit? Could he reach Terrokar? He'd have to... wouldn't he?

He'd been caught by surprise as Rhonya slapped his hand away, he'd been even more surprised as she pushed him. Strangely, the actual fall was not so surprising.
Therak actually felt calm as he fell, looking up at Nagrands colorful nightsky. He felt more like a spectator, unable to move. He knew he should twist, roll in the air. He -knew- he could land safely, but he couldn't even twitch.
The impact came after what seemed a small eternity, there was a moment of pain. And then nothing. Nothing below except his head. He couldn't hear the roaring of the waterfall, and worse. He couldn't continue watching the sky, the sky was beautiful... Why had it been taken from him? His head felt cold, and wet. As much water as air passed his lips, clean water... It tasted clean. It made him think of Alterac, the mountain stream he'd lived by... Was he thirsty? Was that why he was drinking? He wasn't sure...
What had happened? Why was remembering that so hard? Why was his head cold? He knew he had to cover his head in the snow... Had he dropped it?
Warm hands pressed against his head, warm was good... Like under the furs... Rhonya was always so nice and warm... Her stomach wasn't in the way when they slept either... And he actually liked it when he woke up, feeling something stir beneath her hand, in her stomach. It used to make him smile...
Slowly feeling began to return, he could feel the vertibrae move in his neck. That wasn't good, was it? He was cold, soaked to the bone. Then the pain hit him. His head felt like it was on fire, he could -feel- bones move in it... His stomach burned, the warmth leaving it slowly... He felt tired... He couldn't open his eyes...
This wasn't good. Would he die here? Was this it? He survived a fall off the Loch Modan dam, and a tumble off a small cliff would do him in? He wasn't done! He'd not met his daughter yet. He still had duties. He couldn't die here!
Could he?
He wanted to scream, shout out to anyone who'd listen. He had to live!
He couldn't... His lungs didn't move. Was he breathing? No... His lungs felt heavy... He couldn't draw any air into them.
His body was moving, sliding? Like down the snow in winter? He'd loved the sled he had... He'd run up and down the hill all day when he was allowed... Up... and down... and up again... But this only went down... And the water... If it hadn't hurt so bad... it could have been fun... sliding down into water... a soft landing... Maybe he could make something by the hot springs... Thu'uk and Skorm would love it, wouldn't they? And the twins... when they got older. And Vaala.
Suddently he was out of the water, there were sounds around him... What were they? Voices? Should he know them? What language were they speaking?
Slowly the pain faded,  and something was coming up his throat, something warm. Was he throwing up?
How undignified... He hoped Rhonya didn't see...
Rhonya... Where was Rhonya?
Suddently he could breathe again... It felt good... Maybe he wouldn't die? Maybe he should sleep now... He did feel tired after all.
Perhaps just a little sleep...



Slowly sensation was returning to him, there was some pain. But mostly he felt tired. There was some kind of pressure around his head, he couldn't move it.
Slowly, he opened his eyes...
He couldn't see anything more then a ceiling, no matter how much he moved his eyes. He didn't dare move more then that, in case someone saw.
He focused on the link, on the tribe.
”Whe... Where am I?”

Been working a bit on writing about Theraks past, I'll be posting more parts in here as I finish them.
It's not much for now, but hopefully I'll be getting somewhere with this.

The snow was covering the hills leading up to the alterac mountains, turning them into a gleaming white and untouched wonderland. The air was still, clear and crisp and the morning sun made the temperature almost too warm with all the fur and wool on.
With bow in hand a shape crept through the snow. Grey wool and fur covered him from head to toe, he had pushed his white cloak back, to allow himself to reach the quiver more easily.
In a landscape like this there was no way to avoid leaving tracks, but the snow was a fine powder, and as the wind would pick up a little when the sun was higher up in the sky, any tracks would be gone soon enough. Besides, animals didn't rely as much on seeing the tracks, as much as smelling them.
He stopped, in the treeline a doe had appeared, alone. It sniffed the air, as he slowly drew an arrow, nocking it to the bowstring.
In a smooth movement he drew the arrow to his ear, aimed and released it. The arrow flew true, and the doe took a few steps before falling over.
Dinner secured, there was no longer any need for stealth, so he picked up speed and quickly found himself by the doe, it was dead and cooling in the snow. The blood had turned the snow into slush, so he dragged it off a few steps before tying its legs together, and lifting it up on his shoulders.
As he turned to leave, he saw a child huddled under one of the trees, watching the doe hungrily. He looked half starved, and wasn't wearing more then rags. He couldn't have been more then five or six winters. Filth caked him to the point where you almost couldn't see that his skin was green.
”You hungry?”
The child nodded, hesitantly. It was clear that even hungry as he was, he wasn't going to blindly trust a stranger.
”I'm camped in a cave not too far away. There'll be food enough for both of us, and I have a spare cloak that you can have... This is no weather for a child to be out alone in, not dressed like you at least.”
He didn't look to see if the child followed him, but set a comfortably slow pace back towards the cave.
A few moments later he heard the child follow, careful to keep his distance. Excellent... This was something he could work with.

A while later they were sitting on opposite sides on the fire, the child had a whole leg to himself, tearing into it like he hadn't eaten in a week. From the look of him, that may very well be the case.
”I could use an extra pair of hands here... You'll be working for your food... But by the looks of it, you'll be better clad and better fed then on your own...”
The child stopped eating for a moment, staring at him through narrowed eyes.
”And you're just going to give me this chance?”
The chuckle that erupted from the elders throat was warm. Surprisingly so, even for himself.
”No, don't get me wrong... I don't like to see children suffer or starve. But I am getting old, I have things to pass on, and no one to pass them on to.”
He smiled, the child wasn't stupid. That was something at least, still young enough to be impressionable and intelligent enough to hopefully learn enough...
The child kept staring at him for a few moments, before nodding.
”I guess... Do we always eat like this?”
”No, can't hunt up all the prey out here. Then there'd be no food next winter. Sometimes I get ahold of bread, sometimes oats. We eat what we can get ahold of... But we'll always eat.”
He took a bite from his own piece of meat before continuing.
”What's your name then?”
”I'm called 'shitstain' and sometimes just 'runt'”
”Hardly names worthy of an orc... I guess I'll call you Therak. Will that do?”
The child nodded slowly, in a way making him seem far older then his appearance suggested.
”And your name?”
”Hrm... I gave that one up... Think of me as a kindly uncle... That'll do, you can call me 'Uncle'”
It was late before they were done with the dinner, and had gotten Therak cleaned up, it was a cold bath in a stream, scrubbing with some kind of porous rock, getting the filth off him and leaving his skin sore.
The cloak was a welcome warmth. Even if the cave kept the wind out, the coals in the brazier only warmed so much. Therak was wrapped in it, a book that was looking comically oversized in his hands. He couldn't understand the squiggly shapes in it, but his new 'uncle' had assured him they made sense once he got the hang of it.
”That letter is an A, that one is a D, then there's another A, a P and finally a T. It forms the word 'Adapt'. Which means that you change according to the situation. Like a rabbits fur becomes white in winter.”
Therak noddes slowly, tracing the letters with a finger, at a first glance everything had looked the same on the page. But the more he looked, the more he could see the pattern. There were spaces every few letters, apparently indicating words beginning and ending. What the dots that popped up every few words or so didn't quite make sense yet.
”Why do I need to know this? It's alot of words, isn't it enough that I know what the words mean?”
His uncle smiled faintly, nodding.
”Knowing what the words mean are important. But books containt not just words, they combine into knowledge. It's an excellent way to gain that knowledge without having someone teaching you. Knowledge is power, sometimes the information you thought was useless, can be just the thing you need. If you apply it right.”
Therak frowned, his full stomach, and being warmer then he'd been for days wasn't helping his concentration. His brain worked overtime to process the barrage of information, and he didn't last another hour before he simply nodded off.
His uncle nodded to himself, he thought the kid would be asleep sooner. There was a strong undercurrent of stubborness in him, it would serve him well. If it could be harnessed that was...


Three years had passed, again it was winter. Therak was moving towards the mouth of the cave, keeping low in the night.
His eyes was straining to see, and he was listening for the slightest sound to give him a hint to where his opponent was hiding. He had a firm grip on the wooden blades in his hands, ready to defend himself if need be.
The game was simple, if Therak could reach the cave and get three hundred steps away from it again, he'd eat. If his uncle stopped him. He would not eat.
All the games they played were simple in that regard, there was never alot of rules, everything was allowed. Fail and he went hungry, succeed and he'd eat. He worked for everything, for his clothes, for his tools and of course, for his food.
The games varied from games like this, reach a spot, take something and get out. To games of memory, see what had changed in the cave, or remember which finger his uncle wore a ring on the day before. Some was about defending himself from an attacker, or he'd have to climb trees and cliffs.
He couldn't quite make sense of why he'd be doing all these things, but it didn't have to. He got to eat more often then not, and was warm enough during the winter.
The sound of something breaking the surface of the snow brought him back to the now, he twisted in the direction of the sound, bringing his weapons up to block, only to find that there was noone there.

He watched as Therak slowly crept up towards the cave, the technique was allright. A little sloppy with stopping to listen and watch, but much better then last time. He'd seen him watch the area for the better part of three hours, not bad at all. The child was beginning to understand the value of patience.
As the young orc was getting closer to the cave, he threw a stone off towards one side, watching the orc turn in that direction. Seconds later he slammed into the child, careful not to hit him too hard.
The orc rolled with the tackle, pushing his opponent off him, scrambling to his feet barely in time to block a flurry of blows from his uncle. He even managed to get a few strikes in of his own, poorly aimed, but still.

He made a few gentle swipes towards the small orc, easily parrying the few counterstrokes the child managed. He had to be careful, adapt his attacks to what Therak could manage to block and parry. Pushing his limits, but never too far. The little orc even caught him by surprise when he kicked up snow to cover a quick slice with the blade towards his thigh. Good initiative was to be rewarded...

Therak kicked up snow at his uncle, darting forward to slice at the thigh, feeling mighty pleased with himself as his uncle fell over, clutching as his thigh.
Leaving his uncle behind, Therak rushed towards the cave, jumping over the crude trap his uncle had set up earlier and snatched up the bag with the food. Then it was just a matter of jumping back out, running off into the night.
He'd be eating tonight.

The cramped cellar was barely big enough, even for Therak to stretch out in, most of the time he had to slightly curl up, unable to move any of his protesting muscles more then a little bit, and even that would have to be done sparsely.
He barely dared to breathe, afraid that any sound might end up finding the ear of the Kor'kron doing another sweep of the building.
He pulled the amulet up again, looking at it. Even touching it made him feel sick, he knew the purpose it had been made for, he could even appriciate it, the source aside. But looking at it, or touching it made him feel filthy, wrong, like a sheet of oil across what was once a pure lake. It had been fine while it was still in the warded bag, but after things went wrong, there'd been little choice. It was that, and the kindness of an old friend who kept him alive.
The sound of the beating above him began again, he could hear her whimpering, and the rough laughter of the Kor'kron. It made him want to cry out, to burst out of the floor, blades dancing.
Worse, it made him feel powerless.
He'd not be able to fight off several armed Kor'kron, even if he'd been unharmed, not in these cramped quarters, and certainly not without being allowed to fight on his terms. Instead he'd have to listen to her being beaten, and worse. They knew that she'd been close to the traitor among them, and they were determined to punish her for that.
Clenching his teeth, Therak drifted inside himself, rather then listening to the sounds above him, shutting everything out.

The moonless night was surprisingly quiet, if he didn't know already, he'd not have guessed there was a siege going on not far away.
He was crouching at the meeting spot, looking out into the darkness, trying to detect any movement.
”Been waiting long?”
Therak was quite proud of himself for not flinching at the voice, in a way it had been expected. Peth did like to show off.
”Been here long enough, you're slow... Back in the North you took pride in always being there first...”
He took in the human with a glance, he wasn't much more then a dark shape, but he could see a twinkle in the one remaining eye.
”There was a draenei who taught me that you don't always have to be first... She was a good teacher... I could arrange for you to meet her.”
Therak chuckled softly, replying with a smirk.
”It's easy to teach someone who knows next to nothing... The others with you?”
The human raised his hand, waving it forward slightly. In reply four more shapes materialized from the darkness, easily distinguishable as two night elves, a gnome and another human. All wearing dark clothing, leather and cloth, and small satchels across their backs.
”All ready, and briefed. Annely will be your minder for the mission. She'll keep you safe enough... After all, you have our way out, and I don't do suicide missions...”
Peth grinned, flashing his all too white teeth in the darkness.
”Except Icecrown... Right?”
Therak pulled his own satchel to himself, and slowly got to his feet, ignoring the pain that came with the movement.
”Well... Fighting off three Deathknights with my eye hanging down my face is as close as it gets... But that wasn't really a suicide mission, just... almost?”
”Kodo-dung. You had one eye when we started that mission, and it was still there when we finished it.”
”Aye... But you got to admit... it's a good story...”
Therak didn't bother replying to that, focusing on getting to the next point without being noticed.

The six shapes were all but invisible in the darkness, creeping slowly across the dry grass, the agreed on signal had been flashed from the wall, and the rope already hanging down for them to scale, or in Theraks case, be hoisted up by.

The first thing he noticed as he got up on the wall, was a squad of Kor'kron, having a standoff with the alliance operatives, weapons drawn, and moments away from setting off a shitstorm that would make enough noise to be heard all the way to the Drag.
He barely had the chance to open his mouth before one of the Kor'kron lowered his weapon, grinning behind his helmet.
”Uncle... It's good to see you. I was worried they had left you with your throat cut in a ditch somewhere...”
Slowly, but surely the rest of the weapons were being lowered.
”We don't have much time, better make the most of it, hide the rope, and we'll talk when this is over...”

As they descended down the stairs, Peth turned to Therak, arching an eyebrow.
”Uncle? Didn't know you had a brother...”
”It's an honorific... Long story, in short I helped him and some friends of his out, and I've been stuck with it ever since...”
Peth barely managed to supress a laughter. While the others rolled their eyes, used to the rogues antics by now.

The gnome attached their last charge to the beam Therak had pointed out, and the six sneaks quickly made their way down towards the Drag, sticking to the shadows. The sudden breach in Valley of Honor had attracted quite a bit of attention, something they had quickly taken advantage of to cripple other parts of the defensive structures, they'd even managed to get one bomb hidden in one of the barracks...
”Good to see my last mission before finally getting a comfortable desk position went well...”
The gnomes grin was splitting his face from ear to ear, but it dissappeared quickly as one of the elves hushed him, reminding him they were still in hostile territory.
As if to prove the elfs words were true, a sudden hail of arrows came down among them. A bright flare lighting up the night, illuminating the prone, still and bleeding form of one of the elves, and the prone, screaming and not so still form of the gnome.
”Split! Split!”
Peths voice rang out in the night, and suddently in a flurry of movement everything went down the drain. The second volley took down the last elf, Annely pushed Therak out of the way and fell down aswell. She didn't get back up.
The only thing Therak had time to see, was Peth sprint through the night, away from the chaos, and then Therak did the same.

Finally the noise above him quieted, and the heavy footfalls moved away, the door slamming. Not long after, the floorboards was moved, and he could see the female, and the results of the Kor'krons search.
The place was a mess, everything was torn open, clothes and items spread all over the floor. But for all the chaos in the house, she looked worse. Her face was swollen, and had darkened with bruising, her clothing was torn to pieces and she was clutching her robe to herself. The only thing that didn't look broken with her was her eyes, they looked hard, like flint, or cold steel. She was holding out a waterskin to him, and a small pouch that smelled of fish.
”Dried fish and water, I'm not sure how long you'll have to stay in there... But it might be a while...”
Therak didn't know what to say, and simply nodded to her in thanks, as she replaced the floorboards and left him in the darkness...

((Not 100% pleased with this one, but the idea is there. And I doubt I'll get happy even with more time.
In any case! Enjoy the read!))



Every muscle in his body burned, that pain was only interrupted by small knots of sharper pain, where he had broken off the crossbow bolts that the Kor'kron had hit him with. His breath came in short, ragged gasps and it was all he could do to remain standing.
Behind him was the corpse of his prey, in his hands was the satchel he had been carrying.
Therak hadn't needed more then a short look at the papers to figure out what they had meant. They were in a cipher he had broken before, when he had carried messages occasionally. Messages for the Kor'kron who was now lying in the clearing quickly dissapearing behind Therak, face down in a pool of his own blood.
Five reports. Five spies in the area. Five targets to be dealt with, one way or another. Not to mention the Chieftains other task.

He finally stopped, on the border to Azshara, slumping down against a tree. He dug into a small hollow, and stuffed the satchel in there. There was no way he'd be able to deal with all of it on his own, but in this case. He had friends who'd gladly help him. He quickly scribbled with charcoal on a piece of paper, the key to the cipher, and it went into the satchel aswell.
A dead drop, it'd be acted on within half a day.
Finally, he gave himself the chance to rest, curled up under a tree a bit away from the dead drop, he slept for a few hours, before getting up, and setting about his tasks for the Chieftain.
Getting through the alliance siege of Splintertree wasn't that hard. Neither was getting past the guards, the real challange came from entering the local commanders hut unnoticed.
Therak quickly put a hand across the commanders mouth, silencing any attempts to shout for help.
”Quiet, I'm here to help you, but be quiet, or both of our heads will be decorating the pallisade before the night is over.”
It took a few moments for the commander to stop struggling, before he carefully nodded, studying the thin orc suspiciously.
Therak removed his hand, keeping his voice to a low whisper.
”You have one of Garrosh's spies among your grunts, he's been sending reports out about your so called ”failings” since you're still under siege. There's no reinforcements coming to aid you. He threw those at the walls of the rebellion, and they were cast down, routed and utterly defeated.”
Therak gave his moments a moment to sink in, tossing down several sheets of paper on the cot next to the other orc.
”Here's his latest report, I've made the key to the cipher on the back, feel free to check it.”
The commander spent a few minutes rifling through the papers, his nostrils flaring, and the vein on his temple visibly pulsing.
”And what do -you- suggest I do about this?”
”Simple, remove the spy, and turn to someone who won't throw away the lives of you and your men. Someone who offers a chance at honor, who'll not leave you out to dry because you can not win against impossible odds.”
”I have given my oath to the Horde, and its Warchief! You want me to be an oathbreaker!?”
Realizing he would have to step lightly with this topic, Therak thought a moment before answering.
”An oath goes both ways, swearing loyalty to somone, demands loyalty in return. To not leave you to fend for yourself against unbeatable odds, for no gain. To not throw you to the wolves, as a scape goat for his unwillingness to consider diplomacy. I'm not demanding an answer, I'm making an offer. And giving you the spy, as a sign of good faith.”
Half a horn later, A dozen grunts, and the commander kicked down the door to the barracks, causing a ruckus among the grunts currently sleeping there.
”Search them! Find the spy!”
The shouts echoed through the room, as armed grunts tore bedding, and opened chests, tearing out the contents of their personal chests. Some of them pushing the grunts up against the wall, keeping them under guard.
Therak walked in behind them, tapping and knocking on the bottoms of the emptied chests, before stopping at one, where the knocking gave off a hollow sound.
”A false bottom, I told you so.”
A wet thump, and a head landed on the ground.
”It seems you were right,  I guess we have some discussing to do...”

Three days later, three days mostly spent by a fire, talking until  their voices were hoarse.
”We will give no oaths, until the alliance siege is lifted. Do that, and we'll follow your general when he marches on the gates of Orgrimmar. If he gets that far.”
”Swear your oath, and we'll see what we can do. We already have lines of communication with the alliance, they want the Warchief gone as much as we do.”
The commander sighed, shaking his head.
”Tell your General this. He'll have our oaths, when the siege is lifted, not before.”

Hicks placed the last unconcscious young woman at her assigned place in the circle, chained her down and looked over his work.
Thirteen young women, all virgins (he'd checked that) was placed evenly around the circle, painted in blood. Each of the women were surrounded by a small circle of her own, with thirteen black candles burning.
He was furious, with the orcs, for their inconsiderate treatment of him. With himself, for his stupidity. But most of all. With Rhonya, for what she had done to him, and for what she had made him do.
He scratched at the new top of his skull, replacing what the ”rebels” had smashed in. He didn't know who'd replaced it, or why. But he'd sure like to know why he suddently had a craving for fish. He -hated- fish.
But by now, his fury was cold, calculating. He was going to make her -pay-.
He pulled a small laquered box from inside his robe, and opened it to reveal several small bundles of hair. He lifted several to his nose, before nodding to himself, this was definately Rhonyas, a faint trace of Talbuk and Wolf, and a faint scent of herbs.
He placed it in the middle, and quickly drew another circle around it, placing thirteen candles on the floor. Leaving them unlit.
”She'll pay... She'll regret breaking her oath... First one was a warning... But this... This is war...”
He mumbled as he set to work, doublechecking his circles, even a small mistake here could be a disaster.
Finally satisfied, he set to work. He opened the tome hanging from his belt, feeling the energy seep into him as he began to chant in demonic.
”Kzrah. Xathi. Fryn. Gubbjux.”
The big circle began to glow with a stomach churning green light. Still chanting, Hicks walked over to the first woman, a young she-orc, by now they were starting to come to. This one was still groggy, but her eyes were as open as they'd be, and she began to squirm as Hicks raised a ritual dagger above her.
”The heart of a warrior, for the strength it contains.”
He stabbed down, digguing out the still beating heart, placing it within the circle, fel energy immediately saturaring he heart, keeping it beating, for now.
Hicks continued to the next one, a pale elf, pretty little thing.
”Blood of the innocent, corrupted for the resistance it will give.”
He slashed the dagger across the unconscious elfs throat, collecting it in a small bowl beside, her. It immediately thickened into a black, pulsing sludge.
The next woman in line, a human who'd been careless in her travels. Had realized what was happening and was screaming, a shrill sound, filled with fear of her impending fate.
”Tongue coated in silver, for the whispers and lures.”
Ignoring her protests, he forced her jaws open with the dagger, to grab her tongue between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it out before cutting it off, leaving the woman gurgling and drowning in her own blood. He dropped the tongue in a jar with quicksilver and moved on.
The next woman, a Night elf, wasn't screaming, but staring defiantly at Hicks, she'd not give him the pleasure.
”Eyes of the watcher, to watch for tampering.”
Two flicks of his wrists had her eyeballs bouncing on the floor. She wasn't silent now, she was howling and screamig in pain.

He went through several more women like this, harvesting organs and bodily fluids. The final woman, another orc, her brown skin, naming her Mag'har, had passed out from stress and fear by the time he got to her.
”Soul of the untainted, sacrificed for power.”
He held a gemstone in his hand above her, and energy darted out from her mouth, into the gemstone. Which he finally put down carefully in her circle.
He bagan to chant again, the candles in the circles with the women quickly flaring up, the color of the flame alternating between green and black. The harvested items finally catching fire, and dissapearing into nothing.
Hicks chanting grew more louder and more frantic, until the candles in the inner circle burst into bright green flames. Just as the chanting reached its crescendo, the locks of hair in the middle caught fire, burnt out in a flash. And with that, all the light in the cave died...

Hicks walked out of the cave, fel energies dancing around him, he was fully reeking of it. Where he walked, smal animals mutated into hideous forms, who could not sustain their own life, and died immediately. The grass died around his feet.
His voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper.
”Oh... she'll pay allright...”

((Right, slightly creepy, and very short story. But I'm letting you get an idea just what selling Rhonya to a random forsaken gentleman entails...))

Martur Von Hickory leaned back in the chair, smoke trailing up from his pipe. The female orc was fast asleep in the bed. His eyes followed the dancing shapes of the smoke, his mind busy reflecting over the evening.
It had been a slow start, Rhonya had been anything but cooperative at first. Her answers short, verging of hostile. She'd almost made him lose his temper... But after a short exchange, she'd at least made an effort. The conversation had been pleasant after a while. And when she'd been tired, he'd helped her to bed... Such a sweet little thing...
He quietly got up from the chair, walking over to the sleeping she-orc, careful to not disturb the neatly folded clothes on the floor by the bed.
”You're such a pleasant little thing...” Hicks reached out, stroking her hair tenderly. She didn't even stir. Nothing short of physical violence would wake her for hours still.
”Sweet, almost innocent... But...” He leaned down, almost buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply.
”With just a slight hint of fel... A rose with thorns and all... Quite delightful...”
With a content sigh he pulled the cover back over an escaped leg, and moved back to his chair.
”I did promise I'd keep you safe, and I do keep my promises...”
A faint smile played on his lips, unblinking stare focused on the sleeping orc as he poured himself a cup of wine from a nearby bottle.
”Women are so lovely when they sleep, peaceful... natural... Quite refreshing... The way their hair move across their skin as they turn... The way their chest heave with each breath... Their sweet sweet dreams...”
Martur closed his eyes, letting the sensations wash over him. Feeling the pride and joy as she played with her children. Chasing them around endless plains. Skorm up to mischief with his bone club, and the twins constantly swapping places.
It was still dark when he opened his eyes again. He smiled as he got from the chair with a creak, stopping dead when Rhonya groaned and stirred slightly. Once she had settled down again, he snuck out the door, returning with a tray ladened with breakfast, placing it on the bedside table.
”Rest well my dear. The food will help with the hangover...”
With a smile he walked out the door, to meet the new day.