Vargosh Rockfist, Monster or Mok'Nathal?

[Vargosh]

Vargosh were jabbing at the dummy, swiftly, with great motion.

His mind was in a completely different place, all he could think about was one, grom-damned, cursed she-orc.

She and her green slender skin, that purple bushy hair and blue eyes, as blue and mircalous as the Oasis of the Barrens.

He hated her, he loved her, he wanted her dead, he wanted her back.


He punched more rapidly, and with alot more force.

"I hate ye!!!"
He roured out and punched more fiercly.

All he thought about was those two pups, those pups that stopped him from having her.

He couldn't accept it, he couldn't believe it, all it did was giving him rage, all he wanted was to get rid off them.
They creep in his mind, they haunt his every step. For every step he take is alone, they are alone because the orc he loved, was not his, because of just those two fouled pups.

The pups of Osan.

That weak.. pathetic.. little orc, nothing but a mere punk, had barely experienced life!

No. It was all wrong, all against him. All was hate.

Suddenly he hears in the distance kids laughing and yapping, as he looked to his back, he saw two oprhan orclings run around playing.

The scene suddenly changed, he saw an image, it was two slightly larger younglings, Mok'Nathal pups.
Next to them was their mother, an she-orc so stunning in view most males would dry out, and howl.

This she-orc, looked at him and smiled, she waved for him to come to them.

But the image faded. His family, would never come to that. He had none.

None.

The word echoed in his head.

Vargosh let's out one of his thundering roars, deafning the entire valley.
He slams his fists together and smashes the Dummy in those pieces, tree shards scattering into the air.

Vargosh falls to his knees, looking down into his now open palms.

"What have become of me..?"

[Vargosh]

Second part, follow up of first. Scroll down for first.
In the story some one will have claimed doing something that is not true. Just this person being a moron.

Vargosh slowly headed for the Inn.
He had never had a mead, an ale, in his life. Or atleast for thirty years.

He felt like time had come to change that.
As he sat down on a bar stool, and started to drink from the ale an old troll approached him.

"Wat be troublin' ya'Mok'Nathal?"

Vargosh looks at the troll, with a rather puzzled look.

"Ah, ya be supris' I be 'nowin' ya be on' of da Mok'Nathal? I 'now 'lot of ya'kind.
I be see' ya be troubled? W'y be dat?"

Vargosh that wasn't used to kindness by strangers nor being adressed as a Mok'Nathal replied.

"I be having problems with them she-orcs."

The troll took a blow of his pipe, probably one with drugs.

"Ahh, dem ladies be problem fo' da Mok'Nathal?
If id be somet'in' I 'now mon, id be dat dem ladies alway' 'ome an' go."

"Well, this she-orc, Mazguul, she was me mate. But she came not long ago tell me she have some other orcs pups. Pregnant."

Vargosh sighs, and takes another clunk of the ale.

"I be not jealous, them she-orc only lie, but reckon them whores do.
How could it ever be us two? Not sure if I love her enough ter trust her.."

The troll nods, knowingly.

Vargosh continues.

"All this hate, all the rage.. So many have to die to end it. For a while.."

The troll places his hand on Vargosh shoulder and speaks.

"Bu' mon, ya be a Mok'Nathal. Ya be a'honourable figt'er mon. Do'nae let dem 'ate control ya."

Vargosh nods, and yet again, takes another clunk.

The troll wrinkles his nose, and then giggles.

"It seem' I be havin' to take a 'ee."

He slowly walks out of the inn.
Vargosh chugs the ale and is about to turn around when an young orc next to him starts to talk.

"Mazguul eh? Aye, she be one fine she-orc, pummeled her hard! Understand why she left you, an ogre and all!"

Vargosh freezes on the spot, his entire face turns into pure rage, hate, bloodthirst.
He smashes his fist into the face of the orc, the orc falls to the ground, Vargosh dives down and starts jabbing fists into his face.

The sound of knuckles hitting flesh.
The sound of an orc getting beaten's paniced, yet slow breathing.
The sound of gushing blood drips on to the ground, and soaking Vargosh face.
The sound of bones, and tusks cracking, more and more, harder and harder.

And then, the sound of knuckles hitting dead meat.
Nothing more, no breathing.

Vargosh starts to regain control of himself, as he stands up he can see the barmaid, a female troll with a bow and an arrowed nocked aimed at his own head.

Different beings staring at him, shocked.
He looks down at his hands, that is filled with the orcs, and his own blood.
Wounds on the knuckles can be seen too.

He suddenly realise what he had done, taken the life of another orc.
He ran out with haste, affraid of what he had done.
When he reached the pool in the Valley of Honour he looked at his own reflection.

"What is this monster I have become?"