"Fall back! Fall back! Leave the wounded!"
The sergeant is panicking. The demons overwhelmed the soldiers and he went silent, up until it was too late..
"Fall back to the main bulk!"
An easy scouting had turned wrong. The demons had caught the plan and attacked before the small group was ready.
"Hey! Wait up! Hel-..."
The shouting turned into gurgling as the grunt caught a spear through the neck. No one tried to help him, or help anyone. Everyone ran in fear towards the camp.
Behind them they could hear the felhounds chasing them. The felguards running close behind. And feel the heat from the eredars fel magic passing them.
Body after body fell, and trampled by their own brothers in arms.
The demons closed in, the soldiers got tired, and soon they were trapped in a dead-end. And in union, all the eredar flung the spells at once, until the screams died out and the rest left for the hounds.
Every night since, nightmare after nightmare, Vraxxar wakes up in sweat. Haunting memories coming back to him after the sun sets, and moon and stars lights the dark.
At least here among the mountains and snow, he's home and safe.
The sun still on the horizon and coming up when there's footsteps behind him.
"Another nightmare."
The old man said plainly as he approached.
"Yes.. The one about the scouting mission again."
The fire dies out slightly just as the shaman sits down next to Nightholw, who still sleeps next to the fire. Vraxxar puts on more wood, trying to save the fire before it dies completely.
"Don't mind the fire. There's reports of dwarves moving in the area, better be cautious."
"Then why are you here? If the dwarves catches you.."
"They won't catch me, or you." The shaman interuppted.
The old shaman eyed Vraxxar a while before turning his gaze to the fire.
"Why are you here?"
"You know why. We need someone to watch the area here, just like the Stormpikes does. Not that I think anyone will do anything."
"No. Why are you here in Alterac?"
Vraxxar stayed silent a while, pondering his answer.
"I can't go back to the Broken Isles, you know that. Even if I wanted to. And Orgrimmar hasn't felt the same ever since Hellscream. Here is the only place I can be."
The shaman raised his eyes to the other orc, then stood up and looked over the view. Seeing mostly trees, snow and a thin path.
"There is one place that is home for you. I can feel it when you speak about them."
Vraxxar looked the old orc. Time had not been kind to him. White hair, the little he had left. His knee getting worse and worse with the passing winter.
"That place is gone. They're all dead. Why else would the link between me and them not work? Why else have I not heard a call for battle from them when the Legion came?"
The old orc finally turned towards Vraxxar, staring him straight in the eye. Then hands him a folded note.
Vraxxar slowly grabs it, and the shaman slowly walks away in complete silence. A sudden wind flies up, ruffling the leaves on the trees and the loose snow whirls up.
Vraxxar shields his eyes for a moment and then glances towards the shaman a final time.
Nothing. Not even footprints.
"Clever bastard." Vraxxar thought, knowing what he did. In a single strong wind, every footprint had been swept away and the fire completely killed. Even waking up Nighthowl from his heavy sleeping.
He looks back to the note and opens it, reading it quickly. He can't help but the grin slightly, but it dies fast.
He settles down on the ground again, and Nighthowl walks up to him to lie down next to him.
The spirit link was broken, he hadn't heard a thing about the others in a long time.
And now this. A call.
Out of nowhere there are signs from the tribe.
Vraxxar quickly packs up, and without a warning to the village, he leaves.
The sergeant is panicking. The demons overwhelmed the soldiers and he went silent, up until it was too late..
"Fall back to the main bulk!"
An easy scouting had turned wrong. The demons had caught the plan and attacked before the small group was ready.
"Hey! Wait up! Hel-..."
The shouting turned into gurgling as the grunt caught a spear through the neck. No one tried to help him, or help anyone. Everyone ran in fear towards the camp.
Behind them they could hear the felhounds chasing them. The felguards running close behind. And feel the heat from the eredars fel magic passing them.
Body after body fell, and trampled by their own brothers in arms.
The demons closed in, the soldiers got tired, and soon they were trapped in a dead-end. And in union, all the eredar flung the spells at once, until the screams died out and the rest left for the hounds.
Every night since, nightmare after nightmare, Vraxxar wakes up in sweat. Haunting memories coming back to him after the sun sets, and moon and stars lights the dark.
At least here among the mountains and snow, he's home and safe.
The sun still on the horizon and coming up when there's footsteps behind him.
"Another nightmare."
The old man said plainly as he approached.
"Yes.. The one about the scouting mission again."
The fire dies out slightly just as the shaman sits down next to Nightholw, who still sleeps next to the fire. Vraxxar puts on more wood, trying to save the fire before it dies completely.
"Don't mind the fire. There's reports of dwarves moving in the area, better be cautious."
"Then why are you here? If the dwarves catches you.."
"They won't catch me, or you." The shaman interuppted.
The old shaman eyed Vraxxar a while before turning his gaze to the fire.
"Why are you here?"
"You know why. We need someone to watch the area here, just like the Stormpikes does. Not that I think anyone will do anything."
"No. Why are you here in Alterac?"
Vraxxar stayed silent a while, pondering his answer.
"I can't go back to the Broken Isles, you know that. Even if I wanted to. And Orgrimmar hasn't felt the same ever since Hellscream. Here is the only place I can be."
The shaman raised his eyes to the other orc, then stood up and looked over the view. Seeing mostly trees, snow and a thin path.
"There is one place that is home for you. I can feel it when you speak about them."
Vraxxar looked the old orc. Time had not been kind to him. White hair, the little he had left. His knee getting worse and worse with the passing winter.
"That place is gone. They're all dead. Why else would the link between me and them not work? Why else have I not heard a call for battle from them when the Legion came?"
The old orc finally turned towards Vraxxar, staring him straight in the eye. Then hands him a folded note.
Vraxxar slowly grabs it, and the shaman slowly walks away in complete silence. A sudden wind flies up, ruffling the leaves on the trees and the loose snow whirls up.
Vraxxar shields his eyes for a moment and then glances towards the shaman a final time.
Nothing. Not even footprints.
"Clever bastard." Vraxxar thought, knowing what he did. In a single strong wind, every footprint had been swept away and the fire completely killed. Even waking up Nighthowl from his heavy sleeping.
He looks back to the note and opens it, reading it quickly. He can't help but the grin slightly, but it dies fast.
He settles down on the ground again, and Nighthowl walks up to him to lie down next to him.
The spirit link was broken, he hadn't heard a thing about the others in a long time.
And now this. A call.
Out of nowhere there are signs from the tribe.
Vraxxar quickly packs up, and without a warning to the village, he leaves.
