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Worthiness

Started by Gridish, July 07, 2018, 07:46:29 PM

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Gridish

((This story takes place after the clan gathering of the 24th))

It’s a quiet and clear night in Durotar as Lofty floats around in Razor Hill. ”Where is he…” Lofty says quietly to himself as he floats into the Inn. “Not here..”. He makes a wide circle in the inn to make sure he didn’t miss the one he’s looking for and pauses at the entrance of the inn. ”Oi! Innguy!” Lofty shouts at the innkeeper. ”Make yourself useful and tell me where Gridish is!” Lofty continues. The Innkeeper peers at Lofty and frowns, clearly not appreciating the disrespectful tone that the booklet is using. ”Yano! Long! Skinny! Makes things go splat with magic! Seen him?!?!?” Lofty shouts after waiting shortly for a response. ”Last I saw he was making his way to the shore and was carrying something wrapped in a cloth.” The innkeeper said and paused. ”Now get out of my inn before I rip you to pieces!” the innkeeper shouted with a growl and Lofty bolted out the door towards the shore. Once the booklet reached the shore he found Gridish, sat in silence, staring at blade that is laid in front of him.

Gridish is sat silently with a confounded look on his face. In front of him lays a hand-made blade with a rune engraved into it. “Here you are!” Lofty shouts as he comes floating by and stops when he reaches Gridish. ”You still having a staring contest with your sword?! I’ve told you this before.. The sword will win every time!” Lofty says and starts to cackle. Gridish looks up towards his floating companion and lets out a sigh before looking back down at his blade. ”You still don’t think you’re worthy, do you?” Lofty asked while he lowered his voice. The Orc nodded before responding ”The last time I wielded this blade was-… that night. Since then more people have died under my watch then ever before. How couldn’t the spirits that once accepted my request even think about aidin’ me after I failed everyone?”. A silence arose across the shore bar the waves crashing against the shoreline.

”Well….” Lofty said as he broke the silence, ”The spirits-… You-… It was out of your hands. Desperate situations call for risky plans…. Everyone knew what they were getting themselves into…. And the spirits know that…. And honestly, what’s the worst that could happen! It’s not like they’re going to smite you down the moment you grab that hilt, right!?” Lofty says and starts to laugh, though his laughter slows down when Gridish doesn’t respond and a certain nervousness takes over in Lofty’s voice. ”….. R-…right, Gridish?” Lofty asked while bonking against Gridish’ head. ”RIGHT?!?!!-“ Gridish whacks at Lofty and snarled ”Shut yer hole, Lofty… I just-.. Don’t know.”.

Lofty hovered beside Gridish silent for a short while before speaking again. “ Well, you better ‘know’ soon, because by the sounds of that tribe gathering, we’re going to need you to be on your best…. And that is not with that-….. Sorry excuse of a butterknife.” Lofty hovered closer to the ground beside Gridish’ dagger. “If you don’t think you’re worthy-… or if the spirits don’t think you’re worthy….. then prove yourself -and- them wrong, by wielding the blade you crafted years before to start a tradition that the Nag’Ogar use to this day…. And cut those down that stand in the clan’s way…. But the only way you can do that-… that you can prove your worthiness, is to wield that damned blade. The spirits will respond, be that now or be that in the future… So what do you say?”. Gridish let out a long sigh before nodding. He unsheathes his dagger and places it beside his sword. He closes his eyes, let’s out a deep breath and grabs a hold of the hilt of his sword.
Gridish Rimeweaver