Orcs of the Red Blade

Welcome to Orcs of the Red Blade. Please login.

November 22, 2024, 11:20:16 PM

Login with username, password and session length

Recent

Members
Stats
  • Total Posts: 33,083
  • Total Topics: 3,067
  • Online today: 311
  • Online ever: 449 (October 27, 2024, 12:55:06 PM)
Users Online
  • Users: 0
  • Guests: 305
  • Total: 305
305 Guests, 0 Users

Sleepwalker

Started by Mozrogg, October 08, 2013, 01:28:45 AM

Previous topic - Next topic

Mozrogg

The pillars of smoke were visible even from the outskirts of Ashenvale, plumes of black and ash blocking out even the faintest beam of light that dared penetrate the thick canopy. The lush forests faded, the spirits and dancing lights of the ancient wood a distant memory now as the stench of sulfur and brimstone began to invade his senses, the smell clinging to his nostrils like an unwelcome parasite.

The once bustling streets he had frequented were overcome with terror and death, the sight of those he once recognised lay scattered throughout the city's streets, no longer was he walking through the green of Ashenvale as his feet trudged through the rubble of Orgimmar.

His once confident stride had been brought to a writhing crawl, his hands clutched the red sand as he dragged his carcass through the valley of honour. His vision was blurred and his mind hazy. A blue banner with gold trim roared ferociously across his peripheral, but to his dismay they were joined by the flying red banner of his Horde. Greenskins on both sides fell, man, elf, dwarf, trolls and tauren, all manner of corpses fell in his wake as they fought for supremacy.

He scrambled to his feet, the intense all consuming fire tore at his very soul, he squinted and tried to clamber to his feet. He shielded his face from the heat, and bobbed and weaved from the whistle of arrow, the clash of steel and the whirl of magic only to be halted dead in his tracks. His mind wished to escape but his legs felt numb, the instantly recognizable banner, the three prongs upon the back of a red banner, the wolves howled within his ears.

His mouth gaped and his eyes widened in horror. Atop the banner was the unmistakable mask of Kozgugore Feraleye, still attached to it's owners head. Upon closer look the banner had been skewered through a still whimpering worg, grey in pelt.

Around the banner was littered with the bloody and ragged wolf-masks he oh so came to recognize by first glance as a pile of bodies encircled their once honourable banner, those he had known, loved and disliked.

Tears began to roll down the usually stern features of his face, yet no sound escaped his cracked lips.

Smashed and empty kegs, defiled as Hellbrew clung still to his unending ale, his body twisted and still. Talonslayers' bow lay splintered in her lifeless hands. Marshfang and Steelhearts' body lay curled and stiff, protecting thee motionless pups underneath. Bloodmarks' stalwart shield lay splintered and snapped in two, still attached to his twitching dismembered arm, next to him lay Karak, the look of horror etched upon his features as he clung hopelessly to his cleaved lute and finally his daughter and Howler lay in a pool of their own blood clutching each other.

Mozrogg howled uncontrollably, his rigid body now crumbled into a heap as the fire and sorrow engulfed his mind and then he was back..

He sat bolt upright, tears rolling down his scarred cheeks as he rolled and stirred, his furs drenched with sweat as he rolled out from under Dahak'ras' touch and panted heavily, he crawled out from under his bedding and sat out upon the hill, he looked out upon the beauty of Nagrand with despair.

He grunted and rolled his shoulders, digging his toes into the cold earth.
"What kind of nightmare was that..?" He sighed and continued to breath deep, as if he had just ran the length of the basin, the stench of sulfur still clung to his nostrils.

He peered over his shoulder as the rustle of furs could be heard, Dahak'ra emerged, yawning as she placed her nimble fingers along his neck.

"It was no nightmare Mozrogg, but a vision, if it has come to pass, I know not." She sighed, frowning as she tried in vain to work the knots out of his shoulder.

Mozrogg snarled in response, "What are you talking about? Why.. How am I back here? I left, the sands of Durotar, the shadows of Ashenv- The death, it felt so, it was real!" Angry and confused he continued to howl.

A concerned look upon her face, she ran a hand along his ocean eye as she spoke with a reassuring tone.

"Mozrogg. Listen to me now, you have been in and out of consciousness since Oshu'Gun.. you've been practically asleep for what, three days now? I can help.. Do not ignore this.. dreams." She smiled, but the concern could be seen on her face, she kissed th orc upon the forehead before running her hands along his shoulders before returning to the furs.

He nodded slowly to himself, he licked his mouth and could taste the salt of his dry tears upon his lips, with a grunt he hunched over with his head in his hands. Bathed in the moonlight he awaited the sunlight of mornings' reprieve.

"Tribe.."