-broken-

[Loial]

broken

Blur.....
Taste of iron, smell of mud and stompped grass, silence....

Get up... bloody Grom's axe Get Up!

Loial shakes he's head as he pushes he's fists in the ground to heave himself up on he's knees.
slowly leaning he's head backwards, eyes shut, he slowly open he's eyes to see the sun glare down upon him.

Spirits, save me...

The orc slowly gathers himself, coughs and hawks.

dead worgens and nightelves bodys laying around stram and the clearing around the orc.
Loial sat beside the campfire he had made, gazing he's surroundings.

i survived those bloody alliance cutthroats....

tossing a glare upon the bodys around him.

i must find her,
how long could i have been searching for her now..?
the tribe... they must think i'm bloody gutted and stabbed in an alley long since...
by the the spirits... matriarch... where are you....?

following day

Loial brakes camp. readying he's worn battle armour and the few belongings he still posses.

i must get back.. i must.. i must find them...

He glances down on the tabard and the sign of Orcs of the Red Blade. Looking at the symbol
with aspiration yet am troubled flair.

Tierd and broken, he starts to move into the wild again, limping on...

may i find them, spirits... let me find the tribe... guide me home...

[Loial]

((sorry for my spelling, haven't written sotys in english for a long long time, many years now..

but anyway...  ))