Orcs of the Red Blade
Tribe Annals => The Campfire => Topic started by: Tagrok on April 18, 2020, 06:27:19 PM
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“I'm quite sure something broke in your mind after that time then, Tagrok. I never expected you to betray me. And especially not with something like this.”
Tagrok wakes by noon, lying on the floor whilst Smoke has curled up on his back. Not quite awake, the ever present dust causes him to sneeze - with the wolf jumping up in alarm before she notices that her idiotic companion is at fault. She stretches lazily and begins to pad outside, having smelled something. The orc gets up much slower, grunting in confusion at his whereabouts before the previous night comes back to him. "So much for asking..."
He could still remember her vividly. Armored. Proud. Stalwart. Just as the day he had met her. Often had he appreciated her direct, no-nonsense way of speaking - until she confronted him on his wrongdoings that night. She would not give them her blessing, would not accept his wish. And why would she? She died, angry and scared and probably cursing his name as she watched her only son die in her arms while he was away on another continent.
He stands with some difficulty, wiping away tears before he pats along his clothing before following Smoke outside. The area was still with the exception of a herd of clefthoof grazing in the distance. To the west were the ancestral ground, and merely looking at them seemed to darken the day around him. Before long, the trio of orc, wolf and boar make their way north towards the busy roads, passing by the ruins of Sunspring Post and the ogre grounds in the distance. He half expected one or two stray ogres to ambush him, but the trip was quiet, deserted even.
By the time Garadar comes into view, noon has given way to afternoon - the shade of the sky changing ever so subtly over the hours. Tagrok doesn't enter at once, instead turning to the right at the western gate to follow the way downstream. Cleaning himself up, he remains there for a few hours, looking over the plains of Nagrand. He eventually fiddles with his belt pouch, looking at a fang he had kept carrying with him for a few days. Near the top, an opening had been carved, with much of the tooth hollowed out in the process. He keeps looking at the fang, brooding over something until at last he sighs before lying down in the grass.
“You put that on yourself. You made the choice, break your oath and spend eternity with her, and never see me again, nor your son.”
"That's that, then. We tried and failed, Smoke." The wolf looks up for a moment, but still busies herself with something else while the orc continues speaking. "She will not give me her blessing and she'll make sure I don't see him ever again." He rubs his temples, grimacing all the while. "I was ready for the first, but... Not like this." Turning to his side, Tagrok looks at Smoke as he rests his head on his arm.
What now? The spirit of his former mate declared him an oathbreaker and Windwatcher was there to witness it. What would happen now? His oath to the clan… The oath he wanted to swear to Tahara. Would he even be allowed to take it? Or would they shun him for his decision to move on with his life together with another woman? Fel, would she even want to, or did Lokara’s words… Shuddering for a moment, he sits up and holds his head as he presses his eyes shut.
His eyes open in horror as he hears war drums.
“N… No, no… Nonononono…” He shakes his head almost violently, the sound stopping as soon as it came. “I’m done being that… That thing!” He spits the words out. “The potion worked. Meri told me so… This is just… Panic. Yes. I’m panicking.” Crawling over to the stream, he begins splashing water onto his face. As he does so, he stares at his hand - scarred many times, but with two distinct cuts across it - faded enough by now to just look like discoloured lines.
“And if she doesn’t agree, then I’ll take you anyway.”
Calming his breathing, he remembers the discussion of a few days ago, at the Throne of the Elements. The fire in those sandy eyes of hers, so completely unlike the rage he witnessed months ago. The clear worry on her face and determination as she tried to make herself believe in her own words.
With a growl, Tagrok gets up on his feet and wipes off the remaining droplets of water with his hands. “I didn’t even try to stop her when she spoke to you the way she did... What a failure. Oathbreaker and spineless, bah!”
The spirit of his love long gone was right with much of what she said. He was broken deep down, for a long, long time now. He might’ve picked up one or two shards and put them together to continue onwards these past few months. Even a clay bowl mended with mud will not return to the way it was before.
“I’m not the same orc that left for Northrend back then, Lokara. I meant everything I said before you and Karthok died… Before that part of me died with you, years later.”
But there was someone else who tried frantically to put him back together. There were others, trying to fill in the little cracks of melancholy, madness and self-doubt. All of them who put up while he tried to push them further away.
“I hope your shaman brings this back to your clan. The word of an oathbreaker means nothing anymore.”
No more words then, only actions. Isn’t that what Tahara asked of him? With that he turns to the two beasts, whistling shortly. “Smoke, Bacon! Get up, we’re heading into the village.”