Wolfblood's Requiem

[Varagga]

Hello!
I am not sure if anyone remembers me, I have been inactive for a while, but with the announcement of WOD and my reading of ‘Rise of the Horde’ and ‘The Lord of the clans’ I have once again gained that hunger to hear Lok’tar Ogar!
This is a short, sombre, tale of Var’agga Wolfblood's last few months. She hopes to return and be accepted once again.

If a nightmare is less horrific than reality, is it just a dream?


A warm haze comes over her as she watches him. His light green skin, just like the fathers’, darts across the plains as he chases the wolf pup. The evening’s low red hue frames the pair, Orc cub and wolf; dodging, running, sidestepping and tackling into the wavy sun kissed grass.
Youth, in all of its primal bliss.


Be it animal or Orc, it does not matter, the two seem to grow, to understand and to form that soul bond. The same connection she once had with her wolf.

As she watches, her brow begins to furrow, eyes squint. It is happening again. It always happens like this. His image becomes a blur, his movements warped, like a smear of paint on canvas. She cannot recall his face, distorted like an object under water, never whole, always fluid. He runs to her, his hooded brown tunic flapping in the wind, arms open, ready for her embrace, mother and child as one. Her burley arms wrap around him, his head nestles between her shoulder and neck. For a second, a fragment in time, she forgets how this ends. how this always ends.

The child’s hooded head tilts back to gaze at his mother, and she cannot help herself but to gaze back. And the pain begins. His colour goes first, from light green through to dark brown then charcoal. His features contort and deform in the seconds this nightmare takes to end. His hooded face, now featureless, begins to crust, like an ancient stone fragmenting and weathered.  Then the once warm embrace turns cold, Stone flesh turns to black ash. His entity, his body, dissipated to nothing. The ash, once skin and bone, is caught by a light breeze and what remains of her son fades on the zephyr like dust in a sandstorm.

She no longer wakes covered in sweat. The nightmare has become part of the routine. The anguish and morning tears have been replaced by an almost debilitating headache.



She had not given the stillborn a name. It was simply ‘He’. After months of nurturing the living being inside her, a visit to an elderly Shaman had shattered her world. The news that the embryo had stopped breathing sent Var’agga into despair. But, the trauma of giving birth was far worse.
She faced the ordeal alone. For eighteen hours she struggled with the searing pain, like muscle being torn from bone, and finally, with a monumental push ‘he’ was born. She had sat watching his lifeless body for what seemed hours.
‘What is it called’, she cried to herself, ‘If a birth brings no life into this world. Is it simply another death…?’


Months on, the pain is still raw. A cut can scar and scab and heal. This was akin to an emotional burn. A mark on her soul. Never to be forgotten.

It had been more months than she could remember since she had seen the blades. The night of the Kosh’harg, the conception, had been the last she could recall. She had not continued on with the rest of the Tribe, she’d stayed behind. Abandoned her oath. Forgot the blood vow she had taken. Dishonoured her family. The child had meant everything. She had sung her Lok’amon to no avail.


Now she would seek out the Tribe. It was the only option left. If they forgave, she would have bridges to build and faith to restore. If they did not, perhaps they would give her the release from life’s grip she so desired.

[Kozgugore]

Hurray, an old familiar face! Don't worry, I'm quite sure there are still some people around who last remember your face. And it would certainly be welcomed back to boot, since it's always a welcome sight to see them return! Not so much as the sad story, even though it was lovely written and made for an interesting and yet concise read! It's always great to see some really orcish references here and there!