Forging ahead

[Mokhtar]

FORGING AHEAD

THE IRON JUNGLE

Battle beyond was no different than what the orcs had met in the Iron Vanguard before stepping through the Dark Portal, only the dry red wastes replaced by a humid jungle. Fighting, Vanara was most observant, while Mokh’tar was easily drawn into the fight. He fought violently and knew where to strike his spiked hammer to ruin armour, but she was deadliest.
    Efficient and running about looking for openings in the nearest foes, she found the smith’s wild and less coordinated fighting attracted opportunists in the Irons, who’d strike out against the him where he was vulnerable. She turned this to her advantage, though more than once she pulled at him to get back, bruised as he eventually became.

        - Mokh!
        - Grhm..
        - Our promise..
        - ...Fine!

Somehow the spirit link was silent. Why was it not working if this was Draenor? And where was this jungle on Draenor? They were here for the Kosh’harg not long ago. They would have to keep an eye out for everyorc as best they could.

Staying together as a pack didn’t seem possible in a dead on shield wall. Not with -the- pack at least, and people bumped into each other here and there, the fighting turning into closed minor battles between those within reach of each other. And whether they fell or was nudged aside, a new ally appeared much like sparring at war training, where one would change around and practice with a new orc. This was no practice, and their allies were not entirely orcs. Other races, tauren and trolls and more weaved in between the lines and the circles of skirmishes spread and formed again and again.
    Mokh’tar and Vanara tried to remain close to the tribe, always keeping an eye out for where their fellow orcs were, but the lines of soldiers shifted, the azerothian Horde pushed forward at the flank, and when looking around they could not find their tribe, only seeing orc after orc run forward and fill the space where the tribe and the Banners had been.

        - Vanara! Do you see the others?
        - No!
        - The fel is the banner?!
        - I don’t see it.
        - Fight on!
        - Mokh! Remember, if the tribe fell..
        - Grhm, so be it!

The two orcs, as most others, were intent on shutting down the portal, but once the magical connection between the worlds had severed, Vanara and Mokh’tar were all about surviving; If the tribe fell, they would seek their own fortune in Draenor, even though this jungle was a strange sight over Hellfire Peninsula’s wastes. Was the portal even at the same place as they used to know?
    The two drew further back in the ranks, making for the flank of those still reinforcing, those still eager to push through to the front. For which was most honourable? Death, or family? They shared a longing to begin the latter.

The Dark Portal came down on them. They had not understood the Banners had pushed through to the great cannon tank, nor heard the roar of its blast, but the gap to it was closed by the numerous Iron Horde again and Mokh’tar and Vanara were caught between the Irons and the storm of debris raining down from the gateway.
    Vanara sought her mate immediately as the blocks of stone came down behind them, though the ground-shaking tremors made the small orc stumble and she steadied herself with a hand on the bloodstained battleground. Once the hissing sound of the stone dust blasting through the air died down, a familiar coughing reached her ear. She smirked to herself believing the orc figure ahead to be the smith, and scaled some of the debris of the portal to try and get a view of the battle now enveloped in dust.

        - Mokh’tar!   
        - I’m here!
        - They’re moving!
        - What?
        - Others run for the docks! And the banner too!
        - What! Fel-humping Iron bastards! Curse you, you’re in my way!
        - We cannot go through them!
        - Bah, around then! Go!

Despite the fact the Iron Horde rejected fel and consisted of pure orcs, it was still one of the smith’s favourite expressions. Abandoning battle they ran eastward through the ruins at the northern base of the portal, hastily trying to get around and turn south toward the water to reach the ships. With their belongings on their backs and the strain in their muscles they ran through the thick of scattering people and into the maw of the jungle, brushing through thickets and bushes, stumbling over roots and rocks, just having to reach that shoreline!
    This was their chance. If anyorc was planning on surviving, it was through those ships in the dock. The land delved downward and they picked up the pace in their aching bodies, not heeding how well they put their feet as long as it brought them forward, running blindly, risking slipping at every skip and turn.
    Air. Empty hopeless air. They came to a sudden halt at a cliff overlooking the bay and the docks. The rockside plummeted right into the water. There was no way down but back by the broken portal. To their horror they saw ships were already leaving port, sailing by below. Mokh’tar grumbled under his panting, Vanara placing a hand on his shoulder.

        - Are ye alright, me wolf?
        - We cannot possibly.. get to them. Even if we left our things and jumped,
          we’re too weary to swim that far.. if they’d even notice us.
        - I don’t want to drown..
        - You said you saw the banner? Grhm, I don’t see it now..
          ..wait, why is there even water here?

Vanara and Mokh’tar stood there a moment, catching their breath, listening to the shouts and noises of war, and it was then the wind bore the words of the first ship to the high cliffs. There was talk of Frostwolves. Was this where they went? Mokh’tar thanked the spirits, even if he found they again abandoned him in regards to the spirit link. If only he could hear more. This wish was not granted him as the second ship was hit by siege fire and their cries outdone the other vessel.

        - Mokh, we cannot stay here.
        - You’re right. We follow them along the cliffs!
        - We cannot keep up wi--
        - We follow!
        - Grn..

The young she-orc darted after the panting smith and quickly overtook him, ever on the watch for dangers ahead. She would follow him where he went. Even in folly like this. At least he had hope, stubborn as he was.

Eventually they lost sight of the ships and were forced to find shelter to rest. Huddled up in high plants she denied Mokh’tar the first watch, seeing how exhausted he was. Vanara wasn’t in shape for much herself, and still she bore bandages around her head and torso. They would have to be looked at later.
    Awake alone, she sat quivering from an aftershock rooted in her core; the fear she had felt on the night before matched far too well the events of this day, and she grasped the hand of the snoring smith firmly.


GIVING UP

Walking disguised in Iron Horde armour was no simple task. The camp they had assaulted had been small, no more than a scouting party. And to find armour which fitted well enough to walk in was equally troublesome, making the silent march ahead a cumbersome one to say the least. If they could hide in the jungle all along it might work, but if the path forward demanded they walk through a bastion of Irons, they would be out of options.
    For Vanara sneaking was nothing new, and the jungle was dark in itself, but with their belongings, the heavy disguise on her back and a less than stealthy smith on her tail it became a challenge in itself. It only took one orc to sound an alarm and gather hunters. It was a slow march, although still rushed.
    It was difficult not to feel followed or watched as they snuck through the dense jungle, hiding from everyorc. If they saw something, they didn’t take the chance to find out if it was friend or foe. Avoid all. Even if they thought they saw someone they might know.

Avoiding most beasts and predators, they eventually came around one of the thousand great trees and was met by the ruffling of leaves in the nearby thicket. Before they had wits to hide, something slouched out into the open of their trail. The shape of an orc was all too easy to recognise, meaning this was no beast; They would have to think of something quick.
    The orc was clad in simple dressing, didn’t look like an Iron orc at all. While he challenged Mokh’tar and Vanara on the spot he was gravely wounded, removing his hand from his bleeding stomach to grasp his warblade and soon came at them. What stood out the most, was his skin. Green.
    Before words of warning could be uttered he came at Mokh’tar, and with his blow parried and redirected by Vanara’s swift intervention, he turned to her in his advance, sending a plated fist at her face and she fell back. The plate metal hitting her was not a gauntlet though, but a metal hand entirely. Of all the orcs of Azeroth and this world, it had to be him. He mistook them for Irons.

        - Lo’gush!

The smith shouted commandingly, raising his hammer in threat to stop him going further. Lo’gush snarled painfully and stumbled backwards, although it was of course more due to straining his wounds than Mokh’tar’s threat. Mokh’tar soon removed the iron faceguard concealing his familiar frown,

        - Wh-...who are you?!...and how you do you know my name ..Mokh’tar?.. Vanara?
        - What are ye doing here?

Vanara asked low, not liking the vulnerable situation. She had also taken off her faceguard and by looking at her, it would seem the jaw armour had fulfilled its purpose, not showing any signs of Lo’gush’s strong punch.
    Looking him over, Mokh’tar muttered low that Lo’gush was dying. The wounded orc replied to Vanara and peered between the two disguised orcs

        - ...I ...I don't know...I remember...pushing through the jungles…, ..you missed the ship.
        - Ye saw us? Grn, ye need ter cover yer wounds.. do ye still have the first aid kit from Steelheart?

The smith drew Vanara a few paces away and spoke low, wary of helping Lo’gush, and she was reminded of how ill she had been treated by him in the jungle vale of Stranglethorn. Lo’gush challenged;

        - Is this how you’re going to be again? Whispering behind my back..

It would be easy.
    So frightfully easy to kill Lo’gush here. Or just abandon him. Let the jungle take him. Vanara, as much as she had come to dislike the blade trainee, didn’t want to leave him to the spirit’s fate. She watched how Mokh’tar angrily stepped close to Lo’gush and spoke cold.

        - Death or help?
        - If you had to discuss it, you have already decided.
        - Alright, he doesn’t want our help, Vanara. Let’s go.

Unconvinced, Vanara stepped close to ask Lo’gush again, also keeping the males more apart.

        - So you don’t want help? Your wounds..
        - I am beyond help, I am near death and won’t make it as a pack.

Mokh’tar promptly turned and placed a hand on Vanara, who still was not convinced of Lo’gush. But when he then asked them to leave him be, she let Lo’gush do as he wanted and went with the smith onward, ever watchful.
    Mokh’tar had given Lo’gush a last goodbye as they parted ways. Vanara outright told the smith Lo’gush was an idiot to refuse help, and he agreed. At any rate, they did not need more surprises. Sounds from afar played on their minds, almost hearing wolves at every ridge.

[Mokhtar]

HUNTING GREEN

His name was Mar’arek. Proven hunter of his people and now a tracker of the Iron Horde. He was among the best, but humiliated by other hunters of equal skill, he sought to reap the glory of besting them. With the Dark Portal destroyed and his hopes to prove himself in the new world gone with it, he took to the wilds. The jungle had always provided, and now it held strange people from beyond - he would hunt them.
    His wolf was Rel’gash, and with it he lead a small pack of orcs as befitted a hunt or scouting party. They soon came upon the slain orcs from whom Vanara and Mokh’tar had taken their black armour to disguise themselves, and went on from there. The hunter was very thorough and once he picked up their trail he continued on foot to not miss a thing, only riding his wolf companion to cross greater distances.

The hunter was a cunning orc, who saw no profit in letting his fellow orcs in on the glory of catching their prize, and he mislead them whenever they came close to their prey. Asking them to circle around to scout for other strangers in the wilds who might interfere, riding in plain sight to herd those he followed.

        - Great tracker, why don’t we just attack if they are nearby?
        - We press them, let them know we’re around. We’ll force their hand in this.
        - Shouldn’t we get them before we lose them? They don’t seem many.
        - Grr, stay your tongue before I lose you! We’ll follow until we have them
          where -I- want them. Now ride ahead, search the pass.

Mar’arek had found the place they met Lo’gush and the tracks told a strange story, as if they spoke of something more, and he suspected Mokh’tar and Vanara might lead him to something .. more. By encroaching on them he thought they would have no choice but to take him straight to what they were here for; Treasure, a cult, conquest, anything. He did not let the others in on his thoughts, portraying this hunt solely as a clean up from the invaders.

Days passed and by the end of it, the land began to rise up in the foothills of the mountains. Here Mar’arek made sure to spin his fellow orcs a tale, requiring them widely spread. A special trap which would amuse them, he goated. In the end, he sent them away one last time to do the job himself. He knew these parts well, and without searching the ground and thickets for clues much, he thought he knew where they were.

There was a cave of ample size for sheltering on the path leading up further into the pass and this was where he expected his prey had sought to hide from him. He watched the entrance without end, waiting until night fell and then came close, certain they would be there. He would have them for himself, and he could learn all they knew without sharing. His prey were.. unspoiled.
    The cave was darker than the night outside, but with a torch he ventured in, thinking he could hint a faint glow around the bend of a corner; their fireplace. He heard how it suddenly was stomped on and the fiery glow he had seen was gone. Holding his torch aloft he found the smith standing ready, armed and.. alone?

        - So here I find you, right where I expected. How easy it was to scare you left and right, finally 
          catching you in a place like this. You have been led like beasts to the slaughter. Now don’t
          look so gruff. You really think anyorc was fooled by those armours? Seems to me you only
          wore yourselves down even further..

The gloating hunter laughed and pointed at the black armour lying in a pile on the floor. He threw the torch to the side between himself and the smith, the flickering fire causing shadows to dance along the cave wall, licking one side of each orc with an orange hue. One brown orc, one green.

        - I see two sets of armour and more sacks and things than you can
          carry alone - where is your little companion? The short one.
        - Grhm..?
        - Alright, deny it all you want. Rel’gash, go stay by the entrance. I don’t want any surprises here.

The hunter began questioning the smith of their presence in Tanaan, why they had come through the portal when surely they would suffer defeat at the Iron Horde. What did they seek -here-? He kept a sharp eye on Mokh’tar, weighing each word said with a scrupulous attention to detail. The smith grew tired of this quickly, seeing he was no wordsmith! and felt this conversation was not going in his favour. He had been reluctant to answer at first, but now just wanted the hunter gone.

        - Doesn’t matter, tell me where you were going, and tell me all about the treasure.
          And who you’re meeting up with..
        - What treasure! What meeting?! We seek the Frostwolves, now go! Begone!
        - Frostwolves? So you go west? What for? What do they have?
        - Nothing! We seek a life! To live!
        - They will fall as well. Last chance, tell me why you’re here.
        - Bah, I told you. There is no fortune waiting for us.
        - Then I’ll take your belongings and be done with it.
        - I think not.
        - Wrong answer, old one.

Mar’arek drew a hatchet and a dagger, trying to talk to this green orc was not as bountiful as he had hoped. But maybe he could lay in wait for the short one, once it returned. He had eyed Mokh’tar up and down much while talking, and believed he knew just how to best him. His stance was especially broad, and he foresaw the smith moving too slow if required to. Glancing back toward the entrance once, he then came at Mokh’tar.

        - I hope you fight better than you hide! Lok’tar!
        - ..ogar.

Mokh’tar was not alone, of course. Vanara literally stood behind him, her small lithe frame poised up against the smith, shadowing his stance. Where his legs were, hers were right behind, and so she remained hidden from the hunter, concealed by the smith and the dark. Meanwhile Mar’arek had spoken, she whispered close and quietly, nudging Mokh’tar, who barely replied.

        - Remember the piggyback ride you gave me in the forsaken lands? Widen your stance.
        - Grhm..?
        - Trust me..

Before the hunter and smith could make contact, Vanara used Mokh’tar’s thigh to step up and vault herself acrobatically through the air daggers first, sinking both into the shoulders of the hunter as she came down on his back, a foot in the hollow of his knee. Mar’arek gasped and reeled back, his forward momentum had met Vanara’s opposite force and jerked the daggers deeper, completely stopping his advance until his body from shock and her weight threw him back down. The deft she-orc quickly slit the throat of the hunter, him laying half against her dead.

His name was Mar’arek,
and his wolf was Rel’gash.

The smith was impressed by the younger she-orc’s dauntless feat, and named her Fierce. She smirked satisfied with herself and licked her tusk in playful response to him. As if this was commonplace.
    The orcs slew the wolf as well. They were short on rations brought from Azeroth and this beast was their key to avoiding a dangerous hunt in the wilds of the jungle. In their cave, they prepared themselves for the coming day’s journey up the mountain pass above the hills. What lay beyond was unknown, but they had learned the Frostwolves dwelled west of them. That was enough.

Next morning they continued, leaving behind the hunter, the black armour and the remains of the wolf.


NO WARCRIES

The land beyond the pass was a breath of fresh air. The woods were less dense and the experience of entering this place was open and calming. Well, the orcs first felt uneasy from this gentle and undisturbed atmosphere, as if they had walked in on a part of the forest, the forest prefered to keep to itself. For surely they were being watched, strangely empty as it was. The trees? Ominously familiar, reminiscent of a darker wood thought Vanara; Terokkar. But for Mokh’tar it was a glimpse of time forgotten. He had passed under these boughs before, had he not? He seemed to recall their bloom. Glancing back at the mountain pass, the jungle did not seem that alien anymore..

It was altogether mild.

The orcs had relaxed and proceeded to journey on in a slower pace now they were not shadowed. Out of the jungle, out of danger. Although this was not entirely true, the orcs learned. Soon their quest to find the Frostwolves had taken them so far westward they hinted a shimmering of light ahead; The sea. With this new stretch of land opened up before them they saw the shoreline dotted with Irons, and they realised how little these lands would conceal them.
    If patrols were about they couldn’t waste time. Northwest the land continued up in more mountains, but those were fortified and proved no road at all. It seemed the only way was over water, to which they looked for logs for a raft, but after closing in on the beach, it was made plain to them; They wouldn’t be able to lift a raft from the tree line to the water without being caught. Nor could they build it by the water.
    When they saw the small boats the Irons came to shore by, dinghies rather, they decided that was their sole chance of not getting stuck here, or risk going back and somehow around.
    Reckless as Mokh’tar found it, they would make a dash for it. Spending what seemed like hours watching the Iron horde soldiers come ashore and drag their small vessels up, they finally found one which seemed slightly isolated from the rest. Two orcs jumped out and began hauling the mechanised dinghy in.
    At least the distance they had to cover was short. No one would see them before they fought the two orcs, unless they looked exactly at the trees they hid behind when they would dart out. Not even the two soldiers they hoped to assault would see them, if still busy with the boat. Just don’t trip in the sand now..

No warcries. This was a silent dash through the open to escape, not to bring death. The two Iron Horde shorecomers saw their attackers late, much like those further away first thought they were witness to some inside fight between two couples of orcs.
    Vanara feinted and slashed her foe, throwing her sacks, satchels and everything she carried into the boat, half jumping in before noticing Mokh’tar locked in a deadly struggle with the other Iron soldier. He was a strong orc and the smith was matched in strength as they tried to topple the other over. Though, both held each other fast and it was no trouble for Vanara to cripple the orc into submission. The orcs down the beach were roused and came for them.
    Mokh’tar grasped the dinghy and pushed hard at it to set it into the water again. Vanara had wanted to help, but the smith had nudged her aside when it didn’t move an inch from her attempt, and she stood inside it watching as Iron orcs drew close. The smith was not impressed with their transport as it touched water and glided into the waves.

        - These are landing vessels.. not seaborne for long!
        - We only need to get a bit off the way, go!
        - Grhmm! It has no oars!
        - Do something!

The smith desperately felt the strange machinery for any sort of lever or turning wheel, whatever to start this! Meanwhile the brown orcs lined up on the shore, rifles ready and aiming. Their captain still on his way down the beach shouting for them to just open fire and forget the formation.
    Mokh’tar found a chain and pulled it. The engine in the back of the dinghy coughed and silenced, followed by the noise of gunfire opened at them. Keeping low as best as able, the smith pulled on the chain repeatedly until the machine growled and suddenly they sped out to sea.
    Any wounds would have to be looked at later. Navigate the waters, get out of range of any ships and they might make it. Other dinghies they passed on their way out turned and took pursuit, but eventually the Irons were torn between following these green orcs and their orders of landing on the shore, and they turned back.

        - To think we’re in a boat, Mokh’tar.. and you cannot even swim.
        - Grhm.

The smith looked away and rolled his eyes, hearing her low snicker as he avoided her teasing gaze. How she found thoughts of jest was beyond him, and he folded his face in furrows frowning. Well, maybe she carried hope. That was something.

Many days had passed since the Dark Portal, and looking up, the orcs saw the sky still wasn’t torn like that of Outland. And why there were seas at all to sail on also remained unanswered, though every solution they could think of stood vague to the result they saw before them:

Draenor had been restored.