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Messages - Rhonya

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The Campfire / A New Chapter
« on: September 24, 2019, 02:12:32 PM »

She hadn’t slept, at all. The sun shone harshly on the tent, making all of the inside looking like a mix of blue and purple due to the fabric it was made of. Skint turned on her side, looking at the sleeping form of Nakobu next to her. His face was at ease, his breathing slow.
Things had gone so fast. So much had happened since the clan had rescued her and she had gotten the offer to stay. It had never occurred to her she might find someone so like minded, so utterly selfless, someone who would worry so much and care so much for her.
Skint reached with a hand to brush a lock of dark hair away from his brown skinned face, her own hand so pale in comparison to him, almost glowing.
Two opposites but still so much the same.

With a soft sigh Skint sat up, using her hands to try and force her hair into somewhat of a presentable mass, but as usual the massive bunch of curls just did what it wanted to do, going literally everywhere. Maybe she should ask Zi’tani to crop it down a little soon and make it a bit more manageable again.
The headache that had been plaguing her the entire night was still there. It was a throbbing behind her eyes, automatically making her squint in pain. It had taken a few hours after having gone into the tent before she had dared to open her eyes. What was she even afraid of? That a spirit would barge into the tent? It could’ve done so before too, only she wouldn’t have seen it.

But now she would, if the potion had done what it said in the ancient scroll that it’d do. It was the first step on a new road, a long path of learning. But she was ready. Ready to leave the memories behind of what had happened to her in Zandalar and after. Ready to turn a new chapter, together with Nakobu. He’d help her.

Yet, Skint was still afraid to go outside of the tent. Nakobu had asked that she’d wake him when going outside the first time but for some reason she felt that she had to take this small step alone. He was already supposed to go with Morghka later and leave her in town, she wouldn’t have him miss out on learning more about himself only because he felt she needed him more.
So, heavily squinting into the harsh morning sunlight, Skint opened the tentflap and crawled her way outside. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. The headache increased, the pounding behind her eyes picking up again but she remained where she was. Just in the entrance of the tent, looking around.

Nothing had changed. At least nothing new that she could see. Relief flooded through her, but also a heavy feeling settled in her stomach. Had it even worked? How would she know?
Skint exhaled slowly through her nose and turned her head-… And closed her eyes right away with a soft outcry.
Oshu’gun. She’d been looking at Oshu’gun. But she shouldn’t even be able to see it from this distance! Yet it was burned on her inner eyelid. Bright, shining, like a beacon even from where she was. Slowly, very slowly she opened her eyes again, just a slit first and slightly more every second.
The entire air around it shimmered. It was beautiful. More beautiful than she’d ever seen before. It didn’t even look like the same mountain she had visited yesterday.

Skint couldn’t make out any details from this distance, besides the bright, bright beautiful light coming from the mountain. Is this what the spirits saw it like, after they left their physical form behind? No wonder they were attracted to it, if so. She could barely take her eyes off it herself now.
With a small smile she tore her gaze away from the brightness, looking around the town again. Everything seemed normal. Everything seemed calm.
Relieved, Skint crawled back into the tent to curl up against Nakobu once again. Maybe she could get a few hours of sleep before he’d have to leave. But at least she could let him go without her now without worrying too much.

Now just hoping he didn’t run into any trouble himself later… Auchindoun. A part of her wondered how that would look like now. But another part told her she wasn’t ready yet for that step.
Not yet. It was good she wasn’t going along. But one day, Skint would go look.
Skint closed her eyes, finally relaxing, even though the headache was still there. It didn’t take long before she drifted off to sleep.

Only to just miss a small, silent shadow passing by the entrance of the tent…

The Campfire / Re: Stalker and Striker
« on: August 27, 2019, 02:42:05 PM »
The sounds of the jungle. So calming, so familiar. Yet, this jungle sounded different than where I grew up. It was hard to place my finger on it what exactly differed, but it did. Maybe the animals, maybe the lack of Trolls, or maybe a combination of both of that.
Still, it felt like coming home again, riding back into the jungle. Uurekh was less happy with the heat but he handled it well. The sun was barely up, yet noise erupted all around me.
A jungle never sleeps.

We made it back to camp without much fuss. I let Uurekh do his own thing while I made my way to where Timur was with my new charge.
A tiger cub. When I heard the cry coming from beneath the dead ones, I had known it was a tiger. I had known I had to get it out before we accidentally burned it with the others. Something about it sparked a memory from long ago.
Qa’ajn, pressing a small cub in my arms, telling me he was my responsibility now. Those big, orange eyes looking at me. He barely fit in my arms, but my ‘father’ trusted me with him either way. It was the start of a long, deep bond that I still felt on this day, even though Lian had been gone for quite a while now.
It made me sad to think about him, even now still. And I don’t think that would ever fade. It didn’t need to, I was at peace with it as well.

As I reached the place where Timur hid himself with the small cub, a little bush outcrop, I was met with a rather unique sight.
The cub was awake, curled up against Timurs side, blinking weakly in the ray of sunlight that fell right on his head. Timur was asleep, I could almost feel the exhaustion coming from him. He’d probably stayed up all night to watch the cat.
Another memory. Lian, lying curled up, his eyes focused on something furry in front of him. A small wolf pup between his paws, runt of the litter. The tiger was old, tired, his muzzle turning white, but something about the puppy had awoken a new youth in him and he cared for Timur as if he was his own offspring. Like a somewhat grumpy grandpa, showing him the ropes and putting up with Timurs unending ear tugging and enthusiasm.
It was odd how some things always seemed to come back, a never ending circle.

I slung my supply bag over my shoulder and picked up the small cub with my one functional hand, very gently so not to wake Timur. Finding a secluded spot, I placed the cub on my lap and the bag beside me. It was a bit of a challenge with only one hand and a suddenly very awake tiger trying to climb off my lap to explore, but eventually I managed. I had a very rough, thick piece of cloth rolled into a cone, filled with wolf milk.
I had been very lucky going to Warsong Hold during the night. They had two female wolves nursing litters, one of which a few pups had died at birth, so she had too much milk and was friendly enough to the handler to let him take some for me. It wouldn’t keep well long in this heat here and I wasn’t even sure if he still needed the milk, but after seeing his rather malnourished state I just wanted to give him a good chance. Mothersmilk was full of good things, more so than I could give him right now with anything else.

It was messy business to get the little one to understand he had to suck on the end of the cone for the milk to come through the cloth. Once he figured it out though, we were both covered in the stuff, but he was drinking very, very greedily.
I watched the small cat drink his fill in silence. My stomach still had this sort of odd lump of happiness inside of it. Even with the issues going on right now with my bloodsister, Tagrok, Trakmar and the rest of the clan… I felt happy. Happier than I’d been in a long time. That would change soon, I knew. One way or the other. Maybe I would tell Tahara soon, just to give her another reason to fight on and not give up.
But for now I simply enjoyed the feeling, looking forward to the good things ahead while trying not to linger too much on the bad ones that were most certainly sneaking up on me.

When the cub had drank enough, I brought him to the water, taking a bath together with him. I also washed out the cloth and buried the rest of the milk in the skin into a shady spot in the sand, maybe that would at least help keep it cool for today and a later feeding.

He already looked better, I concluded, looking down at the small wet cub sitting on the edge of the sand, peering somewhat apprehensively at a small frog that was leaping by.
“I guess ya’ll just need a name now, don’t ya, buddy.. Let’s see. Vessalia was ‘er name, no? So caring, but so tragic. Maybe ‘Ar’kuna be rig’t and it’d be nice ta continue ‘er legacy,” I spoke to him. Not that he paid much attention to me with that frog distracting him.
“Wat do ya t’ink about Vesa, ‘mm? Nice and s’ort. Easy ta remember. Vesa.”
The cub let out a soft meow now, trying to give the frog a whack with his paw, which looked way too big for him still. He missed.
I laughed, shaking my head a little. “Vesa fits ya fine.”
At that moment Timur chose to wake up and he came running towards us, tripping in the sand in his haste and rolling over a few times before he ended up in the water. He quickly stood up, pretending nothing had happened, snorting out some water. Which only made me laugh even harder. He looked very insulted.

“Vesa will be a nice addition to the pack. We’ll teach him well, Stalker.”

“My pack of misfits, ‘mm? Guess ya be rig’t.”
I nodded, to no one.

The Campfire / Stalker and Striker
« on: August 11, 2019, 02:27:26 PM »
“She is like you, Stalker. Like us.”

“And yet so different..”

A hand reached to gently stroke Tahara’s hair away from her face. A hand with more claws than nails. A hand that had ended so many lives already, that had shed so much blood, but still it had times of gentleness as well.
Kyrazha looked down on the females face for a moment longer before getting up, stretching out. She took off her shoulder armor, releasing the knots and clasps and let it fall on the ground before she did a few quick stretches and walked outside of the cave Tahara had made her home.

“It was good of you to choose her for our pack.”

Kyrazha couldn’t supress a small, amused snort as she looked up at the night sky, stars littering the black carpet above her.
“Of course you would say that, Striker. Though, why her? Why her in particular? You’ve never spoken out about anyone else yet,” Kyrazha softly mumbled.

“She is strong. A strong soul. Maybe you do not see it, Stalker, but I do. Try see her through my eyes, next time you train with her. Maybe you will see as well, and understand.”

The voice gently faded away from her mind and Kyrazha understood the talk was over. Yet the presence was still comfortably close. Always close.
She looked back at the cave a moment. Her sister. A bloodsister, one she never had before. One that knew the truth, but still had so much from her own mind hidden to herself and to others. So troubled.
It actually made Kyrazha angry, to think about what they’d done to her sister in the past. She usually never took up the subject with Tahara, or if she mentioned it, it was casual and not in depth, more a passing comment.
But to see her only sister struggle so much with her own mind, it made her mad. Mad she couldn’t really help either, besides just being there for her and helping her through the pain, the moment the ward cracked a bit again.
It didn’t make it any easier that Kyrazha had to split her time between several things now. Trakmar was still a big worry, a pair of heavy hands on her shoulders that kept weighing her down. Her sister. The clan as a whole, a very big part of her responsibility, as she was partly responsible for their safety.
The Horde, slowly crumbling in on itself. It would become a danger eventually, she knew it was going to happen. The clan was approaching a crossroads, once again, ever so slowly.

The presence came closer again.
“Sniff the air, Stalker. Your worries are drowning you. Come.”

And suddenly, there was only one thing on her mind, as Kyrazha turned her head again to look outside. The world was full of muted colors, scents. Things to hunt, things to eat. Food for the pack. Food her sister so needed right now. There was only one urge left in her now, one thing to do, all the other worries pressed to the back of her mind as she started to run, not even taking her weapons from the cave. They were not needed. She –was- the weapon.

“Let’s go hunt, Shelar.”

Off Topic / Re: Reminiscing!
« on: August 06, 2019, 03:09:02 PM »
I certainly still remember you, Morgy! ;)
And indeed, as said above, your name still often comes by in stories or things where the older members talk about previous orcs IC! <3
We're still going strong, and I hope we'll be going strong for a long while still! :D

The Campfire / Paying Respects (Skint story)
« on: July 17, 2019, 05:31:43 PM »
Nagrand. Such a familiar place, but also not. There were a lot of differences, but also many similarities between this world and the one I grew up on. The biggest of course being the sorry state of this one.
I walked slowly, one foot in front of the other, my robe fluttering around my legs as I did so. There was a slight breeze on the air, blowing through my wet, white hair. The bath down the river had been nice, a safe place to wash off all the dirt gathered the days before. Not only the dirt though, but also part of the worries about what happened back in Auchindoun. Watching the filth being taken by the water also left me feeling lighter a bit about what we saw there.

The road was quiet, not very well travelled, besides sometimes a mag’har passing by on wolfback. I didn’t mind. I took my time for the walk, looking around as I followed the road down to Oshu’gun. My destiny wasn’t Oshu’gun though, but the burial grounds before them. The Ancestral grounds.
My arms were full of wildflowers I picked up along the way. I didn’t have anything else to give to them.
Not that these were the graves of ‘my’ ancestors. Yet, I felt a kinship to them all the same. My gaze travelled up to look at the sky, watching the nether magic flow across it in purple waves on the air. This world, ripped apart by magic.
My world, perhaps enduring the same fate right now? It was a different magic, but from what I’d heard, the Burning Legion took over this world by force, with Fel.
And the Lightbound did the same, but.. with Light.

I shook my head, glancing back down to look at where I was going. It was no use thinking about Draenor, we were never returning there either way. We’d probably never learn what happened there.
Which is why this little trip was so important to me. Maybe some closure. Not the same ancestors, but once we were the same world, albeit in a different dimension. This was the closest I was going to get.

As I rounded the corner and walked up the soft grass to the ancestral grounds, I smiled a little. It was peaceful here. Not as big as the grounds I had so often visited as a child, but the same feeling hung in the air. A feeling of peace, sadness, but also joy. A life that had ended, a life celebrated.
Slowly I walked across the grounds, laying a few flowers by every pyre.
The last few days had been an eye opener for me. Even here, I felt it more. The presence of the dead, the departed, the souls. Not only the slight lingering essence of those having passed on, but also those who wouldn’t let go, who still wandered the in between.
Since having my fetish complete and delving deeper into the magic that was granted to me, I had felt them. Especially down in Auchindoun. Maybe Nakobu hadn’t heard them, but the ones tortured by the necromancer.. I had felt it and heard their silent screams. Their pain, their anger, their hurt. I felt it and when I released them, it faded, but it only made my own anger so much stronger.
Strong enough for me to have actually claimed the necromancers soul for myself to offer to Bwonsamdi later, where I almost lost myself in my anger. Where I delved into something deeper, something I had found familiar, but I couldn’t place my thumb on it…

I bend down to put a bowl upright again at one of the pyres that wasn’t in use. I placed a flower inside of it anyway. I felt like I knew what I wanted to do… my path to take. I wanted to aid these souls. Any soul. Aid the mind, the inner workings that made a person a person.
I could now, but with a price. And that was a price I couldn’t keep paying. A price that also had involved others, and I didn’t want that. One of these days, I’d have to break my deal.
I was really grateful for Nakobu for helping me so much. But he was also so overly worried about me. Worried I’d hurt myself. I’d get into trouble. I mean, I did, but still.
A sigh escaped my lips, I sat myself down on a patch of grass, placing the left over flowers beside me. I cared a lot about him. And to my surprise, when I had admitted it to him, he said returned my feelings. He’d shown that again and again the past while. Taking these risks for me, taking me into Auchindoun and into Outlands. I felt like I was building up a debt to him I couldn’t repay.

Yet he was still here. I glanced down at the bracelet around my wrist. Worried even now probably, while I was alone here. What had I done to deserve such a male? Not that we were formally bonded yet, and to be fair, the thought actually scared me because I’d never even thought about finding someone for me, ever. But he was here. And we’d agreed to take it slow, at our own pace. Which was fine with me, I was too nervous every time anyway. This trip was helping, though. Spending time together, talking…

And I knew I had to mess it up again soon. I knew the Loa of Death would be mad at me, no matter what I’d do to try and lessen the blow by giving him a few souls anyway. It was only the question what he’d do.

Shaking my head again, I shoved that thought aside. Not today. Today I was here, in Nagrand-but-not-my-Nagrand, paying my respects to spirits long gone. Tomorrow would be a new day, a free day, where we’d only have to return in the evening. No trips. Nothing we had to do.
I smiled to myself, standing up again. Better not stay away too long and make Nakobu worry about nothing.

My stomach growled as my feet found the path again. I hope he had dinner prepared already. I felt I could eat a whole Talbuk.

Game Related / Re: [Competition] Clan War Banner!
« on: July 04, 2019, 01:18:29 PM »
I don't have tiiiime aaaa  :'(

Game Related / Re: Character Self View and View of Others, Part 2!
« on: June 18, 2019, 04:43:58 PM »

Self View:

Skint is uncertain about most things still. Having gone from a clan that didn't accept her to the Lightbound that only used her, to getting captured by Blood Trolls and getting freed again by the Red Blade... It has made her really confused, so far. The acceptance of the clan despite her weakness. So many willing to help her.
Yet, she was so uncertain about her use of the Light and an unexpected alternative almost literally came falling from the sky for her.
The power wasn't even gradually given, no. She was granted with a full spectrum of energy she doesn't know yet how to handle well. Luck was with her though the few times she reluctantly helped a few clan orcs with her newfound power, after one of the Elders asked her for help.
The one thing she is certain about right now is her fast growing bond with Nakobu, seeing him a bit as the anchor keeping her grounded now in this world and with her powers.
She doesn't trust herself truly, nor the power she wields now entirely, but she's willing to learn.

Views of others:

Spoiler: show
 A very unexpected but welcome bond is growing between them. Skint is so happy that he was there since she was freed. One of the first who tried to make her comfortable, to talk with her and calm her down. Things only grew closer from there. She knows they only just met a few weeks ago and they agreed to get to know each other better coming time before taking any further steps. For now she's just really happy he's there and helps her adjust to a clan life she's never known before.

Spoiler: show
 Her nameless cagemate for a week or more. Not being able to speak to each other during that time and never having met before, but only having each other for warmth and company in that horrid place. It forged a bond Skint cannot deny. They got out together and finally have some time to talk, to hopefully get over and accept what happened to them both. She cares about Irkha, deeply, even though they're almost polar opposites.

Spoiler: show
 The first to earn her trust entirely. Zi'tani almost jumped to the task right away to get the two former prisoners some furs, food, water and clothes, even giving them her own tent to sleep in. Skint does not enjoy people touching her, but Zi'tani convinced her from the start it was alright, helping her clean and braid her unruly hair. She was the first Skint entrusted her feelings for Nakobu for (even though many others were teasing her with it already.)

Spoiler: show
 Still somewhat scary. Skint knows he keeps saying he's not, but she cannot shake the feeling of a deep anger and hurt lurking deep within him, which might bubble to the surface with the slightest provocation. She might be entirely wrong and actually hopes she is, but she's just extra nervous around him.

Spoiler: show
 Kroat scares her. Utterly. She avoids him as much as she can, his current mental state making her extremely uncomfortable. She fears he'll snap soon and hurt others.

Spoiler: show
 Skint didn't talk to Srelok much, but so far she's of opinion there is somehing more to him than she can see.

Spoiler: show
 Motherly, nice and clearly cares a lot about the clan, but Skint hasn't really spoken to her much alone, because usually Kargnar is nearby her!

Spoiler: show
 Intimidating. Very much so. Yet, one of the leaders of the clan, so she'll treat him with respect. His wasn't even particularly mean to her, but she sees the same reasoning and opinion in him that her old clan used to stick to regarding her physique and looks. She told him she'll prove him otherwise. Now to actually do that, though... 

Spoiler: show
 Wise. Old. But full of knowledge. And her tutor, which came as an absolute surprise. He was the first to tell her outright he wished to tutor her and offer her to become a part of the clan at the same time. She's curious about him, very much so, but also wary. Shadowmoon though... He knows a lot probably that she wants to know too!

Spoiler: show
 Helpful! And kind. He didn't ask any odd questions when she asked him for his help to get her something special, he just did it and even brought her more without her asking for it. She helped him with some problems while not even really knowing her powers yet and is really glad that it ended well and that she didn't screw that up.

Spoiler: show
 Can't be reasoned with, entirely stuck in his own beliefs even when the different truth is being dangled right in front of his face. Avoid when possible.

Spoiler: show
 One of the first to accept her trying to mend him and trusting her not to harm him while doing so. She's thankful for that. They have some things in common, even though they're also quite opposite, physically. Maybe one day she'll take up on his offer of teaching her how to handle a weapon properly.

Spoiler: show
 A Troll, but.. a sister. As she herself keeps saying. Skint is a little wary of her and her flirty ways, but she's been very honest as well about everything. There is a deep sadness behind that cheerful demeanor though. Skint hopes to see her more often, she's grown fond of the Troll!

Spoiler: show
 Weird, very weird. But also honest and she'll heed his warnings! Or.. will try to. Just won't follow his advice of smacking people in the face with a tree. 

Spoiler: show
 Her 'brother', as Sa'vashi so nicely pointed them out to be. Dhak seems very troubled, in a period of his life where he'll have to make some difficult choices soon. Skint really enjoys his company though, being able to talk to him without any judgement in the way. And they're somewhat in the same situation now, so she's able to openly talk to him about it, really enjoying the time spend with him and Nakobu. She hopes he comes back soon and is able o make the choices needed for himself.

((More to be added over time as Skint talks to more people and is more able to shape an opinion about them! So don't be sad if you're not in there yet ;) ))

Off Topic / Re: RL photos of yourself!
« on: June 14, 2019, 01:15:32 AM »

Yeah. No comment.

The Campfire / Re: Struggles Of a New World- Skint stories
« on: June 12, 2019, 04:29:22 PM »
Screaming. Screaming everywhere. A continued song of agony, pain, the never ending torture. The cries for help, for death, mercy, anything. It went on and on and on in the camp, from all sides.
It was an orchestra of pain, backed up by the noises of cruel laughter coming from the females as they cut open their still living victims. Never any rest from the noise, it was never quiet.
Skint had tried to block it out at first. Sitting in the cage with her hands bound behind her back, she didn’t have much room to move, unless she wanted to squash her cagemate, which she didn’t.
But blocking out the voices was impossible. The camp they were in was huge, she had realized that much. Walkways above, swarming with male servants doing their tasks to please their cruel mistresses. They were beaten into submission, made to believe that all they were good for in life was to serve the blood troll females. Skint had seen them tied to poles, beaten, stripped of their flesh but all they did was beg for more, trying to prove they were worthy.
It was sick.
It made her literally sick. And if that wasn’t enough, there was the smell. Rot. Rot everywhere, meat abandoned, sacrifices rotting in the water. Corrupted crawgs fighting over the biggest pieces, scattering intestines everywhere.
She had figured out the large ones were in charge. Huge, hulking females, barely dressed. Their voices carried far and they were ruthless even to their own females serving them. One mistake and you were done. How could anyone live like this?

It had been a few days now in the cage. They’d taken most of her and her cagemate’s clothes, leaving them with nothing more but scraps that barely covered them. After a few days in the filth of the cage, they’d also gotten very dirty with things she didn’t even want to think about. Wouldn’t think about. She hadn’t had any chance to talk to the female yet due to being gagged the entire time. Yet, there was a comfort in her presence. Sharing warmth at night, it made a big difference.
No one had paid and attention to them yet though, just letting them sit there. Until that day.
Skint was only half awake, having dozed off. Sleeping was difficult due to the cramped position she was in permanently, but someone can only go so long without it. She was roughly woken though when a hand clapped against the cage.
“Pretties, pretties, which one ta choose! Mistress needs ta know, oh so pretty, so delicious.”
Now very much awake, Skint looked up at where the voice came from. A male, crooked back, covered in warpaint and several necklaces around his neck decorated with bones and teeth. He opened the cage and without hesitating grabbed Skint around the neck, lifting her out effortlessly. She tried to struggle, but his grip was iron. Her cagemate couldn’t even do anything but helplessly watch as the cage was closed again.
“Struggle, oh yes, pale one, struggle. She’ll love dat! Pretty, so pretty..” he crooned almost lovingly while he mercilessly dragged her along, hand still around her neck. She could barely breathe, her legs dragging over the ground.
She was taken to one of the smaller huts. Skint only had a moment to see a bit of her surroundings before she was thrown forwards like a ragdoll, her head hitting against something solid. Pain exploded in her head, white flashes in front of her eyes blinding her. The gag was removed but she only coughed endlessly, curling up on her side on the floor.
“My. Not very impressive specimen. Ya be lucky ya be a female. Set her on the altar.” A voice spoke from beside her, a sneering voice, uncaring. She was picked up and placed on a cold surface, before footsteps moved out of the hut. She felt a certain wetness under her, and when she finally opened her eyes, she saw the blood.
And stared right in the face of Juza.
Her eyes widened and she tried to back off, but a strong hand held her in place. She couldn’t scream, her throat too dry.
Juza, dear sweet protective Juza. His head was lying on the side of the altar, on another small table. His eyes dead, unseeing. His face a mask of agony.
“Oh, ya knew him, sweetie? Hah! He held out long. But not long enough. Mistress wasn’t pleased.”
Skint finally turned to locate the source of the voice. And to look away from the cruel fate her friend had undergone, not wanting to look into those dead eyes a moment longer.
There was a certain slender grace to the female troll. Long limbs, curves and a wild edge, her graceful movements full of purpose, none wasted. She was covered in warpaint and blood, trinkets and piercings, ritual items and cloths hanging from her shoulders and around her waist.
A very deadly beauty.
Skint didn’t see her that way though. For her, she was fear. Pain. Terror.
“P-please-…” she managed to croak out, which only made the Blood Troll cackle while she laid out a few items on the altar. A knife, a bowl and what seemed to be a sort of doll, made of scraps of cloth.
“Already? Disappointing. I should kill ya right now. But, order is an order. Mistress wants to know,” she said, while picking up the knife and moving to the other end of the altar, near Skint her feet. “Now be a good girl and lie still.”

Not like she could do much else, still being bound. She couldn’t call on the Light like this. She couldn’t fight, she had no chance. None at all.
The knife was raised as the females three fingers gripped Skints ankle, positioning it over the bowl. One, two quick slices and blood was freely pouring into the bowl from two cuts in her calf. Skint tried to curl up even more, hissing in pain, trying to pull her leg out of the iron grip, but no it was no use.

“Lie still, I said.” A sharp tug and more pain, the female dug her nails into Skints ankle. “Just a bit more,” she whispered. When the bowl was nearly full, she finally let go, gathering her other items. Dipping her fingers in the blood, she drew something on the altar first. Icons.. runes?
The female started to chant, holding some sort of item above the runes, shaking it back and forth. Feathers were tied to it, little bones.
When this was done, she grabbed the doll and covered that in the blood too, placing it in the middle of the rune circle. More chanting.
Skint wasn’t really paying attention anymore now, merely focusing on shuffling more out of the way on the altar. She wasn’t stopped now, the Blood Troll too busy with her little ritual, or she just didn’t care. Not like there was anywhere Skint could go in her state, in the middle of the huge camp.
“My, my… Now –dis- be interesting. More den ya seem, aint ya?” the female laughed. Whatever she’d seen in Skints blood, it was apparently amusing.
“Ohh, she will love dis, oh yes she will. It be faint, but it be dere. Traces of dat dirty light. Ya will be da perfect sacrifice for G’huun at da next ritual. Be proud! Be happy! Ya get ta be part of him!”
She raised her hands, dripping with Skints blood still and laughed. “Perfect!”
Next thing Skint knew, she was in front of her again, gripping the knife in her hand. Almost carefully now, the Blood Troll moved some of the remaining cloth away from Skints chest before placing the tip of the knife against her skin, right under her collar bone, above her heart.
Slowly and carefully she cut a mark there in the pale skin, red blood welling out. Skint didn’t make a sound. She wouldn’t give the female that, at least.
“Dere. Marked for da ritual. Mistress permits, ya’ll be da special offer. Relish in da thought. Ya death has special purpose. Not many get ta say dat.” Her voice almost sounded nice, which only made her even more scary for Skint, who was trembling all over now. Exhaustion, hunger, thirst, pain, fear… it was all too much.

The female almost tenderly gave Skint a few sips of water to drink before putting the gag bag on. She turned and barked out an order.

“Slave! Bring her back to the cage!”

Skint awoke with a start. For a few disorienting moments she panicked, but as her eyes focused more she realized she was where she’d gone earlier today. The Bwonsamdi shrine nearby camp. Her back was resting against it, a soft breeze playing with her hair.
It had become a place for her to think things over, still almost in sight of the camp and in shouting distance, but not close enough that orcs would walk over and bother her.
“G-guess I fell asleep..” she muttered softly to herself, rubbing her eyes. Not a surprise really, if she looked back to the past few days and all that happened.
She was really happy Nakobu had liked her gift, but Kroat had interrupted them before she had the chance to actually tell him what she had wanted to say in the first place.
Next time. Next time she’d tell him. Be direct, Sa’vashi had said. Maybe it was time to at least listen to a part of the Trolls advice.

The Campfire / Re: Struggles Of a New World- Skint stories
« on: June 04, 2019, 01:07:23 PM »
One day had passed. Only one day since she was freed, but for Skint it felt longer. There was this sudden freedom, no obligations, no more pain, no more hoping that the end would be quick.
She was sitting just outside the tent she and Irkha were allowed to use. It was dark around her, somewhere deep in the night. The only light she could see were the few torches in the camp, some campfires here and there from the clan-orcs and the odd glow that forever seemed to come from the temple in the distance.
Skint was tired, but she couldn’t seem to get more sleep than just a few hours every time she tried. She’d scare herself awake constantly, every little noise, Irkha accidentally turning in her sleep and bumping into her.
Irkha… A name even Skint hadn’t known until they were freed. She looked over her shoulder at the sleeping orc she shared the tent with. They’d never gotten the chance to speak, before. She felt such a kinship with this she-orc, though she didn’t know anything about her.
With a soft sigh Skint ran a hand through her hair, her thoughts dragging her back to that one day. Many orcs had asked about it already, but she had never given them the long answer. Only said enough words to make them stop asking.

The caravan made it deeper into the jungle, Skint once more sitting on the back. Perro was his normal silent self, peering with squinted eyes into the swamp around him, ever cautious. Juza on the other hand was entertaining himself by singing soft songs in Trollish, but even he had his weapon on his lap. The road was muddy, dangerous, he’d said.
All of a sudden the cart stopped, lurching to one side with a loud groaning noise of protesting wood. Skint instantly fell off, rolling into the mud with a surprised outcry. The two smaller direhorns that pulled the huge cart also cried out, they’d gotten stuck in their harness and were being pulled close to the ground on one side, with one side of the carts wheels sinking away in the mud.

Juza was on his feet, instantly. Perro was already trying to loosen the harness. “Damnit. Dis a trap! Be aware!” Juza called out, the large Troll squinting into the darkness.

It had indeed been a trap. Out of nowhere, odd looking trolls swarmed them. This was the first time Skint saw any. Pale skinned, like her, but these were painted. In blood. Red, black stripes, white skull faces, barely wearing anything but scraps of cloth and piercings and golden jewels.
She didn’t get to take a good look at them for long, within moments they’d surrounded the cart, whooping and cheering in high pitched noises, some slamming the butts of their spears on the ground, some slapping their hands on their thighs.
The direhorns went down first. Stuck to the cart, they were no match for the blood troll spears. Their screams of pain and panic were some of the worst Skint had heard, almost getting crushed herself under the cart as the beasts tried to get away, only getting themselves stuck even more. It didn’t take long.
Juza charged. Skint saw him actually take down one of the Blood trolls with his own spear, but there were way too many. She didn’t see his fate, as half a dozen Blood Trolls swarmed him. Perro was actually standing next to her now, almost protectively so, his spear in both his hands.
And they came. Skint barely had time to draw her own dagger. From the corner of her eyes, she saw a dark flash, a glimmer. One of the Trolls fell. And another. Perro roared a challenge, taking down one, two as well. Skint pressed herself to the back of the cart, not knowing what to do. She should fight!
As one of the Bloodtrolls came close to her, grinning, teeth dripping with blood. Skint closed her eyes. She envisioned a rat, in her mind. Multiple, a dozen, two dozen.. And believed. Willing them into existence. It didn’t take long for the screams to start, and as Skint opened her eyes, there was an entire blanket of shining, bright rats covering the Blood troll, ripping her apart piece by piece, gnawing and biting.
Maybe they did have a chance!
She noticed the same flashes as before and saw it were weapons. Two weapons from another orc, dark skinned, helping them. Who was that? And where had she come from?
Skint didn’t get long to ponder on it. There was a sudden exploding pain on the back of her head and everything went dark.

She woke with a groan, barely able to open her eyes. They were caked with dried blood. She tried to raise her hand to rub at them, but the only thing that happened is that she became aware of another sharp pain around her wrists. Ropes. Too tight, cutting into her skin. Her tongue felt swollen, dry, and she realised there was what felt like a piece of cloth in there, bound to prevent her from crying out.
Something warm was beside her. She heard it breathing.
Panic gripped her. Finally she managed to get one eye open, trying to stand up, back off, get away.. but her feet were stuck and she fell against something firm, unable to push herself any further away.
Flashes of light were visible in front of her eyes. Pain… But Skint willed herself to focus. It was the dark female from before. Also bound, but she wasn’t awake.

Skint tried to calm herself, taking in her surroundings with one eye. They were in a blood troll camp, that was for sure. Cages all around. A sort of altar in front, covered in blood and.. meat.
She didn’t focus long on that part, especially after she saw a very familiar spear on the ground next to the altar, the only thing still attached to it was a hand… Perro’s hand.
Skint squeezed her eyes shut, starting to shake. She just pressed herself closer to the only living thing nearby, the other female. At least she wasn’t alone…

With a deep sigh, Skint pushed her thoughts somewhere else. She didn’t want to think about this right now. Not now. She was free. Irkha was free… And these Orcs, this clan… They were odd. So nice, friendly, willing to help. She wasn’t used to being treated that way.
The one that had given them their tent to use. A motherly figure. Zi’tani. She’d fed Skint with a spoon, patiently and even cleaned and brushed and braided her hair. The touch had felt so weird. Only Skints own mother had ever braided her hair for her, long ago.
Then there was Nakobu. He was like her. But so calm, so wise. She was a little intimidated by him, but also weirdly drawn towards him. He had such a positive outlook, reacted so calmly to everything, was willing to listen to her and reassure her. He’d understood her anxiety. He had so openly spoken about his past. So positive about the clan, even though one of the males had simply walked up to him and rudely asked him why he was still there, that he didn’t like him.
That was one she'd avoid, for sure. But Nakobu felt... safe.
There had been others, but names were all a blur to her, faces… unclear. She was constantly nervous, skittish. Unknowingly had clawed her own arm open, her stutter worse than ever. She was ashamed of herself. Embarrassed. But she also knew she couldn’t do this without some help.
The road to recovery had only just begun.

Red Blade Records / Skint
« on: June 03, 2019, 05:45:13 PM »

Name: Skint
Alias: None yet
Rank: None yet
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Mag'har Orc
Clan: Warsong
Class: Priest

Family: Nakobu (Mate) Hotur (Brother), Lughor (Father), Zogira (Mother).
Known Friends: Tahara, Tagrok, Zi'tani, others of the clan
Known Enemies: A certain loa...


This she-orc might stand out mostly because of her huge mane of hair. It's white, almost like a puffy cloud around her head. It consists of very tiny curls, reaching down over her shoulders and down her back. Little braids go from her forehead up to the top of her head to keep the mass of hair away from her face.
Her eyes are a very pale pink, standing out in a face that is rather gaunt. Her skin is also a very light hue, pale grey.
It's easy to see this female wasn't born with lucky looks, being more albino in colors.
Her frame isn't very impressive either, not much muscle mass and clearly she's had trouble getting enough food to remain healthy in her past, judging by her thin form.


Skint was born a Warsong in Nagrand, many years after the Iron Horde’s biggest threat had passed. She was born as one of twins, yet she drew the short straw. While her brother was a strong, healthy brown skinned baby, she came second. Thin, pale grey and already a thin fuzz of pure white hair on her head, her eyes not a normal baby blue color but a pale pink.
Traditional as the Warsong were, she was considered an omen of bad luck. Only her mother prevented her from being killed by birth, because she was a well-respected she-orc in their camp.
A name was bestowed on her, but everyone just called the pale she-orc Skint, as an insult name because of her pale skin.
Growing up wasn’t easy for Skint. Her father had rejected her entirely, he was too ashamed to admit she was his blood at all and he focused purely on her brother Hotur, who grew out to be a lean but muscled wolf rider in training during his teen years.
Her mother protected her child, but to many she was just an insult to the clan. Something that should’ve been drowned at birth. She was compared to the Pale Orcs that had roamed around the lands; cursed shaman, void addled creatures. Her mother couldn’t protect her against the glares, the food that she wasn’t given, the rocks the other children threw at her, the other orcs simply ignoring her in a lot of cases or treating her like a mangy dog. She wasn’t allowed near the wolves either, no promise of any future in her camp, for she was shunned from everything and by everyone. Not even her brother liked her. Only her mother taught her a few basic skills to make sure she’d survive at least outside of camp as well. In her solitude she actually looked more into the fate of the Pale Orcs she was compared with and the time where the warsong dark shaman used the void to twist the elements around Oshu’gun, making it a sort of study for herself and how the Shadowmoon also saw the void and their use of it.

So when the Lightbound became more prominent and Skint heard of them, young as she was, she saw a future. Somewhere to belong. People to accept her. She fled the Warsong, fled Nagrand and found the Draenei and the Lightbound Orcs. They didn’t care about her looks, her ‘weakness’, only that she followed them. They taught her the ways of the Light, the faith and acceptance. Skint finally felt at home, a place they didn’t judge her. They promised her a lot of things, but first the world had to be cleansed. At first, she saw no harm in it, never really being allowed near the frontlines, more of a support in the back.
But when the years passed and the Lightbound pushed their hold further and further, Skint began to see this was not right. That some orcs who joined didn’t do so out of free will. That they were being forced to aid in the slaughters that were committed now. This wasn’t what they promised her, not what she wanted.
Yet she was stuck, no way for her to leave.

Until that one day where she got the opportunity to flee. For some reason a fight had broken out on her side of the camp. She’d heard the rumours of a group of orcs and Draenei that were working against the Lightbound from within their own ranks, helping others to escape but Skint herself had never really dared to reach out to them, too afraid to get caught. She dressed herself in rags and took the chance when everyone was too busy dealing with the traitors and their distraction.
Gorgrond was a dangerous place, but she managed to reach the last standing camp of Orcs that were still resisting. Covered in mud, thin and with her odd appearance somewhat hidden by a dirty cloak and hood, she hid between the refugees and wounded of the camp. No one recognized her. They all let her be as she aided with the wounded. Not with her Light of course, but just by doing chores around the camp.
And then the day came of the last battle, the day the rumours travelled quickly about green orcs, about a way out. A last chance.
She squeezed herself between the others fleeing through the portal. And thus found her way to Orgrimmar and the Horde.

From there on Skint mainly kept her ‘powers’ hidden. She knew that many wouldn’t agree with her being a former Lightbound, even if she had chosen to leave. This however made her feel quite useless again, for she didn’t know anything else besides the Light. Some basic skills in first aid and being so slender made her focus more on her own speed, but she only knew a little how to handle a dagger.
When word reached her that the Horde needed more troops in Zandalar, she applied to be send out. Perhaps the Zandalari Trolls wouldn’t mind what powers she used, as she learned they were more open to following different beliefs, having those Loa themselves. And so she set out to strengthen the Horde forces on Zandalar, being put into caravan duty, helping Horde camps restock and care for the beasts.

Things you may know about this character:
-   Skint can use the Light pretty well, balancing it out with Void these days.
-   She knows what wrongs the Lightbound did and does not agree with it all, but she doesn’t think Light itself is to be blamed.
-   Her faith took a blow either way and she’s a little reluctant now to use Light as freely as she used to do.
-   She can’t stand being in full, hot sun for very long, her skin easily burning.
-   Her eyesight isn’t very good.
-   Skint doesn’t know if her parents and her brother survived. Nor does she know if they happened to come along to Azeroth, not having searched for them at least.

Things you may not know about this character:

-   Skint does know how to call on void as well, but she never dabbled much in it after she found the Light and the Lightbound.
-   She’s very interested in shamanism and the void together, knowing very well how bad it was for the elements and how corruptive. She does not agree with it being used together, but that doesn’t dim her interest in how it was done on her homeworld.
-   Skint also has a deep interest in learning how the Shadowmoon used their star and their soul magic, not really having gotten the opportunity yet to really speak to someone about it.

The Campfire / Re: Struggles Of a New World- Skint stories
« on: May 17, 2019, 08:19:41 PM »
A wall of dark green trees loomed up ahead in front of the cart. Skint was sitting on top of the sacks again, but now facing the front, the road ahead. She was leaning with her hands on the edge of the cart, wide eyed peering between the two forms of her companions, Perro and Juza. Even they looked a little worried.

“Welcome ta Nazmir, Skint. We won’t be staying long here, dis land be cursed. But dere be some outposts we need ta resupply. Hopefully we’ll be back out in a day or two again. Keep ya eyes open, little Orc. For things ya see, and things ya dun see.” Juza said in a low tone, not looking at her, but keeping his eyes on the road ahead. The beasts of burden pulling the cart were somewhat nervous as well, snorting and moving their majestic horned heads from side to side. Perro only grunted in disapproval. Skint learned he wasn’t one for many words, but she didn’t mind that much.

The past days had taken them through Zuldazar, a beautiful trip past a few Troll and Horde outposts. Juza and Perro were good company, not minding Skints own reluctance to speak. They shared stories with her, food and blankets and when Skint once tripped and fell down into a muddy pool, Perro had even helped her wash her hair and braided part of it again after having cleaned it properly. He was surprisingly gentle.

Nazmir, though… Juza had warned her about Nazmir. She could still hear his words as he crouched in front of her while she was eating something. “Dere will be dangers, Skint. Ya shouldn’t leave da cart out of ya sight. Don’t go far away from it. Don’t step into da water if ya can’t see da bottom. And watever ya do, don’t follow any lights or noises. Blood Trolls still be here.”

And so here they were. The air was humid, heavy and warm, the cart making its way somewhat deeper into the swamps now, the night sky completely blocked from view here by the trees around them. It was too dark to see anything either way.
“We’ll make camp soon, dere be an outpost nearby already here.”Juza spoke softly, keeping his voice low. Skint squinted as she looked around, not able to see much at all.
“I’ll take your word for it…” She said softly, not even sure if Juza heard her, seeing he didn’t respond.

He’d spoken true though, the first outpost was nearby. Skint focused on getting the two direhorns their proper food and rest while the two Trolls unloaded part of the supplies for the settlement.
Juza had told her she’d be free to do whatever she wanted the remainder of the evening, as long as she didn’t leave the outpost. So Skint pulled her hood over her head to save herself the odd looks from the others stationed here, grabbed herself some food and made her way to the edge of the outpost, seating herself behind a low and crumbling little wall.

She couldn’t see anything out ahead. Nothing. With a small smile on her face she lifted her hands and closed her eyes.

Imagine the wings, the delicate lines, the tiny antennas and legs. Imagine them and believe they are real… Make them real, so their inner Light will illuminate where you are and help keep you safe.

When she opened her eyes, multiple beautiful, tiny delicate butterflies fluttered around her head. All were made of pure Light, emitting a soft glow above her head and in a small circle around herself, so she could at least see something.
The way how the Draenei had taught her to will the Light into existence, into a physical power. Believe. The butterflies always calmed her down, made her feel at least a little bit safer and gave her memories from back home, when it all hadn’t been so bad yet, when she hadn’t figured out yet how blind she’d been… Just memories of her lessons.

So she sat there, eating a late dinner, squinting into the dangerous swamps of Nazmir, the butterflies lazily fluttering around her. This place couldn’t be –that- bad, right?

The Campfire / Struggles Of a New World- Skint stories
« on: May 11, 2019, 04:18:12 PM »
Another day, another struggle. What had they told her again? Oh, yes.

It’d be an easy job! All she had to do was take care of the beasts and make sure the right provisions were delivered at the right place. Even a simple thing like her should be able to do that, right?

Skint had let the insult slide, just responding with a soft sigh. She rather have them think her simple than getting their hate directed at herself. So she had just bowed her head and muttered a reply that could’ve meant basically anything. One of the large male orcs clapped her on the shoulder with a laugh, which almost made her topple over, before he put his hands around her slender waist. She wasn’t that much smaller than him in length, but she was a twig compared to him in bulk. Without another word the orc lifted her up on the supply cart, on top of a few sacks of grain.
“There you go, White. Do the Horde proud, eh?” another laugh sounded from the orcs around them at those words.

Skint send them a small smile and seconds later the cart started to move and slowly they left the grand city of the Zandalari, crossing a bridge decorated in gold. Even after having been here a few weeks now, Skint couldn’t get used to the sheer size of the city and all the glittering whenever the sun came out from the clouds. It actually hurt her eyes to look at it for too long.

“Don’t mind dem too much. Ya won’t see dem for a while now. Wat was ya name again?” The voice shook Skint from her thoughts. It was one of the two Trolls that were up front on the cart, directing the direhorns that pulled it on where to go. She turned her head, pushing the mass of white hair out of the way before she could see him, looking back at her. He himself had pale grey skin as well, but his hair was blue, golden rings decorating his tusks and ears. There was a smile on his face though, genuine and not mocking.
She found herself smiling back at him tentatively.
“Skint. My name is Skint.”

One of his eyebrows went up slightly, but he nodded to her before turning back to look at the dirt road ahead. “Odd name for an Orc, no? But never mind dat. Skint it be den. I’m Juza and dis be Perro.” He clapped his buddy on the shoulder, but the somewhat smaller male Troll only grunted in response.
“Perro aint too happy with dis trip, but dat’s wat ya get when ya get caught drunk during guard duty, Perro! Da boring jobs.” A hearty laugh sounded from Juza. At least someone was cheery.

“And dun ya worry about da job, Skint. We know wat we be doing. Ya just do wat dem told ya a do and we’ll get along fine!”

Later that evening, Skint had to confess, it wasn’t that bad. The beasts were resting, having had their food from her after being loosened from the cart. They were somewhere in Zuldazar still, the jungle having come alive around them when night fell. Nightly creatures skittering around, little fireflies visible near their campfire. Juza had given her a bowl of still mainly fresh fruits and nuts, sharing from the supplies they’d gotten for the trip.
She looked over at him, his form illuminated by the firelight. He was playing a simple wooden flute, while Perro was singing a Trollish song in a low tone. The two clearly often worked together. Skint somewhat felt the odd one out. But when was that something new?

She smiled though as she quietly ate from her food. Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad idea, coming here. The Trolls accepted her better than her own kind, so far. They mainly thought her interesting. An oddity, sure, but not in a negative way. They also didn’t treat her as a child, nor tried to constantly pat her on the head or hair, like so many orcs tended to do.
Even so, she’d been lucky no one of the Mag’har recognized her so far. Even if she’d been at the back in most of the battles, she stood out. Or perhaps they had simply taken one look at her frail form and decided she wasn’t a threat. Not that she thought she was one, but with her past…

For now, she was good. Safe, with these two. Perhaps she could build a new future here, on Azeroth.

Off Topic / Re: Art Section and creations!
« on: April 15, 2019, 06:27:09 PM »

Artsy Veritasket (sanna) made for me of my new upcoming char! <3

The Campfire / Another Beautiful Day
« on: April 02, 2019, 07:57:20 PM »
The first rays of sunlight made their way over the horizon, making me squint my eyes due to the sudden brightness. I didn’t turn away though, merely closed my eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the morning sun on my face. Light snoring was heard from beside me. My hand found Timurs soft fur without looking, gently stroking the soft fuzz on his ears while he slept. Uurekh was lying curled up between the front paws of the wolf. It had been a good choice to find a companion for him after Lian had passed away. There was just some level of company, of comfort that I couldn’t give either of them. Especially now we needed to get used to one another again, shift the bond a little after the recent events.

A true daughter of the wild, like me.

The words filled my head and made me smile. I wasn’t sure I deserved such high praise, but those words had stuck with me the most. I woke up some mornings, my thoughts filled with hunting memories, running through the woods with my pack…

I opened my eyes, looking over my shoulder towards Razor Hill.
My pack. The burdens on my shoulders had never been higher than now. I had taken them up willingly of course, but it was going to take some getting used to. How times change…
The talk yesterday between me, Nakobu and Gaar’thok had made me think about all that again. How I had started on my own, so unfamiliar with anything outside my little bubble that I grew up in. My life had been Qa’ajn, Lian and the jungle. The Troll had done his best to teach me at least some things, but I had lacked greatly in social skills with others, especially Orcs. Never did I have the responsibility over anyone besides Lian while we grew up together. Never did I actually care for someone else besides my little family there.

My gaze travelled over some of the orcs that were waking up now and went on their morning duties or practices, my hand still gently stroking the soft fur of the wolf beside me. He was awake now, eyes open. Perhaps sensing my thoughts. He’d been picking up on them more and more lately, yet had pulled away again slightly recently. I didn’t blame him. We’d work on it, all of us together.

Trakmar had changed my life. I had told him multiple times, but I still wasn’t sure how aware he actually was of this fact. Kicked out of camp by a Varog’gor after I just found the Red Blades, Trakmar was the one to find me and convince me to come back with him. He was the one who taught me how to balance my own nature with the orc traditions and history. How not to lose myself, but to become a proper part of it anyway.
And now, I was a Varog’gor. Keeper of the code. Protector of the Chieftain and the clan as a whole. Risen to a position and responsibility I had never thought of reaching, when first meeting the Red Blades. There was no way back anymore now.
It had changed everything. It had changed… me.

Yet I had never doubted the choice to start training as Varog’gor. Even knowing most had ended up dead or insane during the clans history. The burden was a heavy one, after all.

I looked back towards the now slowly rising sun and pushed myself to my feet, stretching myself out. A stab of pain shot through my right shoulder as I did so, but I ignored it. The wound I had gotten in Felwood had still never really healed, a very wide ugly scar taking up most my shoulder now. Perhaps I should’ve found a proper healer for it after all. Maybe let someone take a look at it still…
“Time for morning run, Timur. Coming along?” I spoke softly to the wolf. He raised his ears and stood up to stand by my side. Uurekh lazily just rolled over again. Doubt I’d be able to get him moving for the next hour or so.

There were things I needed to arrange. Plans to be made, orcs to speak to. Not many in the clan had seen the other side of me, and hopefully it would stay that way. But if needed, I would step up and be the one to catch the blows, the target, the one for people to direct their hate to if things are not going as they want and someone needs to interfere. And I’d be ready to defend myself or anyone unjustly targeted by others.

Stalker and Striker. Hopefully only Stalker had to show herself to the world, be that in full or not. But Striker would be ready if needed, I could feel it.

I set off on a jog, the wolf by my side. It was promising to be another beautiful day.

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