Spirit Search Rookie.

[Dragath]

(Not this was written during the spirit world event held the 8th of january. Dragath sorta got left behind after the group passed into the spirit world, so I just went with it and made this story Its pretty short and perhaps not all that well-written. I was tired/half sick when I did it. Hope you enjoy).

A faint shimmering sound caressed the warrior’s ears as he felt consciousness return to him. He opened his eyes as lazily as he would when waking up from his usual naps. However, he was met with something he’d never seen before. He found himself in an odd-looking cave which seemed to have had all life drained from it. Its white and greyish colours all faded together in shimmering ethereal mess. He scratched his head as he pondered but found that he felt no hand. He blinked in confusion but finally remembered what had happened.

“So... This is the spirit world then?” He thought to himself, looking around to find the other orcs he remembered taking the journey with. But he was all alone in the cave. A rush of frustration crept through him as he started to make his way towards the exit of the cave.

He felt so light. Never before had he felt this sensation. It was so relieving to be set free of your body, not feeling the old injuries bundle up. He smirked slightly until he found himself outside the Pools of Vision and was met with a white brightness of a hundred suns. He grunted as he shielded his eyes, but heard no sound coming from his lips. “Perfect… Apparently I am a mute now.” He grumbled in his mind as the world phased around him, letting his eyes adjust to the light.

He looked around and found himself still in the village of Wor’gol. It looked so different in this world. Everything seemed to be in constant movement â€" and yet not, for all the buildings and rocks stayed in place. “Is this what the trolls experience when smoking on their damned pipes?” He thought as he waded through the village.

The whole place seemed empty. When exploring the huts he found nobody either. “So this is soul-searchin’, huh? What the fel am I supposed to look for?” He thought as he continued around the village.
Suddenly he felt a pull at his soul. Almost as if he was gently guided towards one of the few remaining tents he had not checked yet. As he got closer to the tent he moved a hand to the hilt of his axe (a warrior’s habit) before peering inside.

In the middle of the tent, an old orc stood gazing into a fire that gave off no heat. Dragath gently pushed aside the curtain and walked inside with confident steps. As he examined the orc sitting with his back to him he saw what had most definitely been a warrior in life. On his back an old banner sprung up past his tall body and flapped lazily. On the banner was a snarling wolf’s head all in white and Dragath realized what sort of warrior stood before him.

“I heard what you said when you pledged your spirit like the rest of your lot.” He heard the orc say as he slowly turned around. His lips did not move and his shape flickered slightly when he spoke. “I see into you and I find a fire burning with a wish to grow. Why do you feel the need to prove yourself so, mm?”

Dragath’s mouth was wide open as he heard the question, finding this orc’s insight of him puzzling. “I.. Wh-… How do you know any of that?” He thought, somehow hoping the message would reach the spirit. The spirit did not answer but only stared at Dragath expectantly. After a while of mild confusion, Dragath answered with spite in his voice. “My clan was once proud and strong. The bane of our enemies… But circumstances have destroyed its honor. I wish to restore it.” He said, gritting his teeth without sound.

“And you wish to do so though battle, Other-Worlder? I have heard of your kind coming to our world as well as the trust the Frostwolves place in you. You come to destroy our common enemies?” The old orc asked with a raspy voice. Dragath nodded slowly. That was exactly why.

“And you wish to grow as a warrior to raise your clan’s honor once more.” The spirit says with a nod. “The path of the greatest of orc warriors is one of hardship and trials… If you truly wish for the power to destroy your enemies you must become the paragon of orc prowess on the battlefield.” The spirit closed his eyes and sighed. “Become a Blademaster. Only then can you hope to raise your clan up to the pedestal from which it fell... Warsong...”

Dragath watched the blue banner in awe as it swayed slightly from the orc’s back. He had always admired those select few who had proved themselves countless times over in order to carry the clan-banner into battle. He had never hoped to ever reach such status. Was it even possible?
As Dragath opened his mouth to question the spirit’s words he felt a pulling in his spirit once more. With a quick jerk the world seemed to fade around him and for a moment he saw that he was back in the Pools.

And then he awoke, gasping loudly for air.

“A Blademaster, eh?..” He coughed with a dry voice.