The rise of Stonefist

[Lars]

Taking a deep breath and rolling his shoulders to loosen them up one last time Marogg saluted his chieftain turned around and headed out. After a walking the first few steps to get the last stiffness out he started running, knowing he had quite a bit to travel to get to the place he knew he would find his pray.
The terrain flew past him, blood pumping in his veins. While running he fully well knew that if not for that dishonorable bastard fixing his knee he would not have been able to do this. Pushing that thought he kept running, knowing that his mind would need to be clear for the task at hand. Also pushing down the old memories of his first Om'riggor, the traditional one. Where he had earned his first honour name by being able to grip orcs, some of them a bit bigger than he himself, and throw them around by the neck. The times long before the war or even the thought of the Draenei being an enemy.
The scenery and nature changed around him, the old orc only noticing by the animals his run was scaring up and setting running. Either from hiding places or gracing, constantly scanning towards any that might attack him, double checking his dead side. Damn hearing being severely hindered when running!

The air around him went from dry to moist, and the setting sun over head disappeared below a roof of leaves. Marogg knew he was getting closer to the place of his pray. Even with quite a lot of force down here going into the trouble over the last years they where still not over with. As they said long ago, the only thing that could measure up to an Ogre's stupidity was it's persistence from not moving from it's home. He ran though the horde encampment and kept on running, new strength getting to him knowing he was almost in place.
Feeling the pain in his legs he slowed down and getting control of his breathing, and started to move a bit slower but almost noiselessly, moving towards the sounds of the Ogres. Something he had learned from his father for hunting animals. Sneaking passed several aggressive and deadly animals of the forest he came out to the old ruins, hearing the sounds much better and seeing some of the creatures. Scouting around the outskirts he found the place he needed. Was empty of most animals, who had learned not to stray too close, and not in sight from the Ogre camp.
Marogg made ready, stretching out and getting his tired muscles as relaxed as he could and collecting several smaller stones. Collecting the stones between his left arm and his body he silently set out again and found his pray rather quickly.

It was an Ogre, a rather big one but seemed slow almost by their standard. As it lumbered around the outskirts, it carried a large axe against a shoulder, and while walking around like a scout it hardly was looking around but mostly seemed to look where it sat it's feet. Marogg took up a stone, and threw it so it made noise in his direction.
The Ogre looked up, and in the right direction. He threw another one, and the Ogre changed so he stood facing towards the area. At the third rock the Ogre started moving to investigate the sound.
Quickly reacting the old orc moved back, and up a bit on a cliff outcropping. As the Ogre came round it took a few step in, and stopping to look around.
At that moment Marogg sprung his ambush, throwing himself with a snarl from his position, his huge fist connecting soundly right on the Ogre's eye. He tackled the Ogre with his body as he slid to the ground, which it hardly seemed to notice. All it did was say a crude "Ouchee" and kick the orc that had appeared in front of it.
Grunting in pain Marogg got hit square across most of his body, flying away hitting the grass roughly. The Ogre hefted his axe and lumbered toward him, to kill the pest that hurt it. Swinging down with it's axe it connected with a thumping sound with the dirt. The orc had been resilient enough to be able to take a kick from the huge creature and as it swung it's axe down roll to the side.
Getting up on his feet again Marogg slapped up with the stump his left arm ended in right in the Ogre's groin. Before the Ogre had time to howl in pain his fist connected over the side of it's neck, making it abruptly lose breath in an exhale that brought blood up with it and over balanced it.
The huge Ogre dropped it's axe and fell over, Marogg with his balance intact and on top. From there he kept punching down on the Ogre's neck and the side of it's head, not coming back to himself for several minutes.

When he finally came too he noticed the dull pain in his hand. Something he had expected. What he had missed planning was how to bring his pray back to the Tribe. He got up, lifted up one of it's legs and started pulling. And strong as he was he got about as far as most one handed orcs attempting to pull an Ogre get. A few centimeters.
Realizing that it would be pointless he looked for the dropped axe. Finding it he got a grip he could manage, it being far heavy for him to wield only with one hand, and started sawing through the flesh at the neck.
After some time of the bloody work he looked like he had just left a butcher's shop he had most the flesh of, he got a surprise. As he gripped the head to tug it a bit to keep working he noticed that the spine was snapped, some of it almost dust. With the spine of the last work did not take much time.

Discarding the axe he picked up his price, gripping it by the spine. All the while he had been working he had heard whispers from the tribe noticing that others also had some hardships they might not have been expecting. He rolled his shoulders and bent his knees. Then started the long run back. Keeping far from the same speed he had on his way there.

Once again running and hardly noticing the terrain not counting what might be dangerous for him he got back to where his Tribe was camped. Slowing down as he came close he heard them grow silent, hearing his approach.
He got welcomed back, and with pride showed off his price, asking for water and to catch his breath before he told his tale.

The tale that would give him a new name, as with the ending of that name he would be known as Stonefist.

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OOC: There is the story of Marogg's hunt during last night's Om'riggor. Hope it was a somewhat enjoyable read. Working on some more texts for the old orc that I will soon post. Just need to get the thumb out of my arse and finish writing them.

[Claws]

Nice story.
Thank you for sharing with us.

[Morgeth]

A lovely read indeed! I like it alot. It depicts battle in a very lively way and somehow I can sense Marogg renewing himself. Like a butterfly coming out of it-... I'll stop now.

Anyway. Very nice!