Cry of the Warsong

[Mozrogg]

The orc grunted, shifting his many packs uncomfortably from shoulder to shoulder, rolling his arms as to get the blood flowing again. He wiped his brow awkwardly as he attempted to juggle all of his belongings. His feet trudged as if they had been walking for weeks, heavy and cumbersome he pressed on, his immense bulk leaving pot holes in the desert sand as he moved. Beside him a once vicious looking worg appeared bored and fatigued, panting for his life. Mozrogg frowned, the pair stopped for but a moment as he kneeled down, opening his water-skin he poured the crystal clear water into his hands as the worg lapped up the trickle of water happily, he howled in content whilst the orc himself grinned wickedly, howling himself in unison.

Finally the desert wastes of the Barrens began to seem like a distant memory as the lush forested region of Ashenvale began to creep into view, however all did not appear as it seemed. The ramparts were as if a plague had wiped out the inhabitants.. Dead. Mozrogg sighed, clambering onto a rocky outcrop that overlooked the forest, he whistled for his worg to follow as they rested under a canopy of trees that blocked out the sun. A welcome reprieve.

Setting down his belongings, sad that what the orc had on him was most if not all of his wordly possessions. He scrambled around in his ragged pack, producing various bone fragments and worn stones, he placed them in a circle around himself, peering back at the worg from time to time. This all appeared rather new to him as he sighed, rolling his eyes at his shoddy work of a 'ritual' circle.

The orc pried his wolf-mask upon his head and sat it down upon his knee, his eyes closed shut as he began to mutter under his breath, his nose wrinkling as new smells began to phase into being, sights and sounds zooming past at light speed, his brow furrowed as he rubbed his temples but he did not waver.

"Ghrm.. The spirits.. Are restless." He muttered in a half dream like state, shaking his head.

"Show me the way of the pack, let their howls lead the way." The orc winced, his eyes fluttering open, before he sat bolt upright, no longer relaxed. He frowned, shaking his head before rubbing his temples once again.

"I'll never get used to this.. Ghrm, damned pain. At least we have a destination.. But why.." Mozrogg clambered to his feet, stretching out his arms and back as they creaked and cracked before bellowing a deafening roar from deep within his lungs.

"The Warsong are supreme!" He grinned, a primal, animalistic visage etched upon his features, he nodded to himself, and then to his worg as they began their trek through Ashenvale, scarred hand wrapped around the hilt of his axe.