The Culling

[Azolg]

(( Just a little something I was inspired to write this morning about where Dabina is IC'ly. Meh. ))

Razor Hill. It had been two days since the Tribe snuck into Orgrimmar, broke Kozgugore out of prison and ran for the hills. Hellscream himself was beside himself, and the Kor'kron were the ones that forwarded his displeasure. Many Orcs had been killed in punishment for their inability to see the plan unfold in front of them.

Now more than ever the Kor'kron were on the heels of the Tribe, searching far and wide to bring them to Garrosh's warped sense of justice. Razor Hill was the first place scoured, with hordes of grunts spilling into the usually quiet village - searching every bed, every hammock and every nook and cranny to find the exiled ones.

“Move it you maggots, we're on a tight schedule here! Check -everything-, leave no stone unturned!” Sergeant Gashfist bellowed, his grizzled features being lit up with a torchlight. They had used the cover of darkness to strike, aiming to murder any Tribe members in their sleep.

“Gashfist. We have an unaccounted for Spider here! It's not one of our lands, and the inhabitants of the village say they saw it with a Red Blade she-orc.” One of the green-skins yelled at Gashfist.

Gashfist snarled, casting his dark red eyes down to tied up spider. “Butcher it.” His guttural voice ordered, and within seconds the grunts that held the beast captive had torn it apart.

Outside of Razor Hill, a figure knelt down on a hill watching the scene unfold. Her face hidden behind the terrifying mask, her armour forged of cold-steel and her rune-axe lay on the ground beside her. The ice-cold eyes narrowed beneath the helm as she watched them butcher the spider 'Savvy, he must have been left behind.' Her fangs twisted into a snarl and her hand tightened around the hilt of her blade. The urge to run down there, decimate them all was strong, but she resisted – she would have been butchered herself had she done so.

Standing up, Dabina tore her gaze away from the village and looked across the seas. She had heard on the Link that they had boarded a ship from Ratchet and escaped the wrath of Hellscream. It would be hard to link up with them again, but they had to be somewhere on the Eastern Kingdoms. A small smile tugged at her lips, as she thought of the Tribe she had come to care for so much, the faces of each Orc she considered a friend about flashed across her eyes – Rhonya, Sadok, Trakmar, Karak – All those that had been decent to her, not judged and treated her like crap. She even thought of Murrah, the new blood Death Knight. Perhaps she felt a certain kin-ship with her, they were after all in the same position.

Sheathing her Blade across her back she adjusted the satchel on her shoulder, checked that Rhonya's book of emotions still resided in there and walked slowly down the hill, the dead grass crunching under her feet.

'Time to find them.'