Tending the Fire

[Therak]

I'll start off with an OOC note.
This is an unspecified place and a somewhat vague time. The story is more for an insight into Theraks mind then accuracy. I know some of you don't usually sleep in camp and such. But for the purposes of this story you are. I hope you don't mind


The fire was crackling quietly in the night, giving off a faint glow and painting the orc sitting by it in dancing shadows. The moon was hidden behind a cloud and the only light except for the fire was from the stars.
Therak put another log on the fire, looking out across the camp and the unmoving forms of sleeping orcs.
Outside the boundaries of the camp stood a massive orc, unmoving in his watch. Caruk, the Gul'thauk, the Deathwalker. Untrustworty, dangerous and maybe even stupid. Any further slips would see him stripped of his rank, perhaps even his oath. A silent watcher, guarding against any threats from the outside.

Therak shook his head and looked in another direction, his eyes landing on Devilstep, the Blademaster, the oathbreaker. He wasn't sure how he could continue calling himself Blademaster with his constant missteps, killing children? No code of honor could see that as acceptible. Had he lost the respect of other Blademasters over it? Perhaps he'd look into that at some point...
The fire was ruining most of his night vision, but watching the perimeter was the duty of other orcs for now.

Gashuk was sleeping close to the fire, turning and muttering in his sleep. Troubled dreams by the sound of it. Not surprising considering his past, warlock, blood magic and all. Therak shuddered, Blood magic. Addicting and powerful, he always felt the call at the back of his mind. Always tempting. It must be even harder for the old orc. He'd have to be watched, so far he'd done good with his tasks to become Gul'thauk. But that only lasted as long as he kept things under control.

Not far away was Windwatcher, an odd orc by his standards. He didn't get the whole farseer thing, but she was usually good enough conversation. She seemed to try to be helpful and kind, and not afraid to accept help.

Gridish was bundled up in his blanket not too far away, a Rrosh-tul. Definately not the archetype for one. One of the few orcs who had actually switched path. Would he do so again? He had spent alot of time with the bolts... Time would tell. He did seem displeased with the tribe at times...

Therak took a swig from his waterskin, another horn and he'd be allowed to go back to his own place, and have Rhonya curled up against him again.
Rhonya, his mate. That had been a strange story, from friends, to brother and sister by oath. If she hadn't been cursed, would they have realized what was between them? It didn't matter now, because it had happened, and he loved her dearly. They had a beautiful daughter together, and he loved the three children she had before just as much as his own. They'd had their problems, but it worked out in the end. If he lost her he wouldn't know what he'd do.
He'd never expected things to get like that, that's for sure...

With some difficulty he tore his eyes from her, smirking to himself as they landed on Sadok, wrapped in Kyrazhas arms, almost like a child. That was another unlikely couple. Sadok, the orc who died. He remembered the death, the tribe had gone into the Plaguelands and Therak had slipped away to gather some things for the poison he was making. If he hadn't, could he have been there to stop the assassination? Perhaps, but he hadn't been there. He hadn't known there'd be an attempt. He had warned to be careful with any orcs showing up. But Sharptongue was sometimes as paranoid as Therak, and sometimes as naïve as a child. It didn't matter, he had died, came back as a Deathknight, his mind completely gone bonkers until his ressurection. A ressurection that came with a price, demands from the spirits. Would that be a problem in the future? He couldn't say, but he'd been quick to grab for power when the Chieftain had been indisposed...

And Kyrazha, Sharptongues mate, and his student. She had a good head on her shoulders, didn't know everything and certainly didn't think she did either. He remembered the tribes outrage when she'd fired an arrow next to him, they refused to see she missed intentionally. Then she'd not made herself noticable until the whole thing with her leaving Trakmar for Sadok. That'd been ugly business, but she'd taken his advice to make a choice and stick to it. Staying with someone she didn't love would have been worse then what had happened, it would have bottled up and the resulting explosion would have caused more damage. No, a swift cut was better. If the Chieftain hadn't taken so long to deal with the assault by Trakmar it would have been much simpler.
She might make a fine Gul'thauk, if she didn't lose her footing...

Then there was the Chieftain... Snoring loudly next to Grogona.
The Chieftain, whom he had sworn to protect above all others. Who had deliberately mistreated him for having taken Rhonya as his mate.
He wasn't a bad chieftain all in all, too proud and half the time too fond of keeping secrets from those who ought to have been informed. Even Therak realized the need for others to know, to make sure they didn't die with him.

Grogona was snoring almost as loud as the Chieftain. He wasn't sure what he felt about her anymore. What he had once felt was dead, no doubt about that. He hadn't even told her how sick he'd been, how close he'd been to death. And she hadn't asked, even when he kept coughing up blood. Still, they had a son together. He didn't hate her, but he didn't feel much at all towards her either.

He looked up as an orc came into the clearing. Nograx, having stood watch apparently. Nograx, the orc who'd been on the verge of exile for his behaviour. Now the orc screwing an elf. One of the Bolts, would he father a halfbreed? Would the child always stand outside society like so many others had? Therak knew what it felt like to never truly belong... He hoped that they wouldn't end up with a child... Not for them, but for the child. Especially with Nograx being Dragonmaw... they didn't take lightly on "contaminating" their blood...
After having kicked Groshnok awake for his turn, Nograx simply collapsed into his own furs, snoring within moments.

Groshnok... The drunk... He could still hear his laughter sometimes when he went to sleep. The sound still haunted him, reminded him of being on fire, twisting and rolling, for what felt like an eternety trying to put out the flames eating away at him. It wasn't the smell of burnt hair and skin, or the roaring of the flames in his ears that he remembered the clearest, but the laughter.
He shook his head to clear it, didn't want to think of that now...

Rashka was lying on the ground next to Groshnoks discared blanket. Too cocky by far most of the time. While she could back it up with her fists, she kept getting into trouble... Going to fight while pregnant? What were she thinking? She'd lost her child, would she even learn from that lesson? Time would tell...

Kradak stretched out at the edge of the camp, stark naked and with his blanket thrown off. Well, stark naked save for the helmet he was forced to wear.

It'd be such an easy thing to slit his throat, no one would doubt his word if he claimed to have seen a shadow stand over him and then rush off into the night.
But no, that wasn't who he was. The orc should have been cast out the moment he'd tried to recruit help to assassinate Therak. But apparently that wasn't a grave enough transgression. Another example that no matter what, he was still on the outside of the tribe. Always a stranger looking in on the others. He was a tool to be used, and discared once he was no longer useful. It never mattered how useful he got, it would never matter how he served the tribe. The moment he was not longer able to perform as expected he'd be cast aside.
All he could do was keep trying to be useful. Keep trying until the end.