Telling Ghosts

[Kozgugore]

’Never trusted them shaman. Who willingly talks to dead things? Takes a damned nutter to settle with that for the rest of your life. No wonder they gradually grow more insane by the years.’
- Ar’gok of the Warsong Clan


Telling Ghosts

Dancing shadows on the ground. That’s what they looked like. A wolf, a male and a female orc: Their figurines resting in front of the crackling fire and casting a distinct shadow in front of the hulking orc who sat in front of them, silently staring at their dancing shapes in the dark night. It was cold for a Barrens night, but that was far from his mind right now. Even the far away noises from a settlement that was still ripe with life of orc activity eluded his attention, just as he had not paid any heed or visit to it for the past several days. The solitude comforted him in a way, knowing no one still bothered to come after him looking for wise words, counsel or any kind of orders. None of those were his concerns to care for, or they would have surely let him know, he thought to himself.

But none of those thoughts occupied his mind now. He looked at the dancing shadows on the dry and dusty red earth, thoughts of long forgotten rituals and fellowship in better times. And the many emotions that filled his veins at the time. He tried to remember how they felt, but instead, a sudden wave of anger ran through his blood. His hand reached out, knocking over the two orc-figures into the fire. Dark, red eyes narrowed at the wooden shapes as they quickly caught fire in the smoldering embers in front of him.

“Tha’ be a shame. I kin’ o’ liked t’ose.”

His gaze reached up, into the dark nothingness beside him. And there it was, that old, familiar face. His eyes narrowed in disbelief, and his throat produced no sound despite his lips parting from one another, unable to find words to express that very disbelief.

“Wha’? Do y’nae believe I’m ‘ere?” she said, as her hand reached out to take his own. She placed it upon her cheek, soft yet carrying a few distinct and all too known scars. “Feel f’ y’self. Did y’ miss m’?”

His thumb lightly caressed the skin, traveling over her sharp tusk and those distinctly figured lips, dark of colour. He was still staring in disbelief as his tongue finally found the words he sought, his throat still hoarse from days spent in silence. “You are not here. This is a dream, and the bigger fool I am for falling prey to it so easily.”

“If ‘t be a dream, ‘t be a good one, nae? One y’ shoul’ prolong f’ as long as y’ can,” the female replied, her own hand reaching out to the weathered orc’s face in turn. Her lips curled in a little smile. “Funny. Y’ look like some ol’ bear. Y’ do’nae shave as much as y’ used t’.”

“I have little reason to,” the orc quietly replied. “There is little left of the orc you remember. It died when the rest of his life was taken from him.” His fingers still idly lingered over her cheek, and that strong jaw. But as they trailed downward, they slowly began to curl around her throat. Suddenly, they squeezed tight, and rows of his teeth were bared upon her. “… When you left me. Abandoned me like a stray dog. I howled and howled, orc. Searched the mountains, forests and deserts. I went through hell, and still you eluded me. You -wanted- to elude me. WHY?”

The female’s features twisted in pain for a moment, before that all-too familiar mirthless smile crept around those tusks of hers again, looking back at him in that usual defiance. “I be back now, m’wolf. Tha’… tha’ be all tha’ matters.” The words were formed in obvious strain, yet they were still expressed with a certain happiness about them as her bright, blue eyes stared back at him in longing reunion. “Y’ always knew I ain’t normal. Tha’ be why y’ loved m’ like y’ did.”

“THIS is not love!” the orc cried back at her with an emotional tang to his raised voice, shoving her off of him and on to the ground. His gaze locked down upon the sight of her. “We shared one heart together. And now you left my chest half filled. You did not keep your promise. Your -oath-.”

The female raised herself up on her elbow as she ran a hand across her throat. She still bore that same smile upon her lips as she returned the look. ”Aye. I did’nae,” the female confessed as her eyes seemed to take on just a hint of guilt. But only briefly. “Y’ were always so good a’ keeping t’ose, oaths. Bu’ look where tha’ go’ y’ now. ‘‘igh Blade’? Really? Fancy title f’ a lapdog. Y’ obey th’ orc y’ once sough’ t’ treat like a pup y’self now?” At last, her smile made way, though only to reveal her own set of teeth in an amused grin. “T’ere be indeed little left o’ tha’ orc, if this be wha’ has become o’ y’.”

“A position I would not be in, were you still there to aid me when I needed it most!” the orc barked back at the female. “The orc that stands before you now is but given breath by necessity. Because oaths matter to me, even those made to orcs who have left a void where heart once beat. And I will gladly take what position I might, so long as it gives me purpose in that oath! It is convenient for you to suddenly show here and point out -my- errors when -you- forsake your very own blood!” the orc’s eyes flared up as he got to his feet. Dust wafted up into the sky as he stepped towards the female still lying there on the ground, looking back up to him. “Where were you?! Where were you when night fell and memories were cast to damned shadow?! Where were you when none other stood for my side?! Where-!”

He stopped. A sound startled him from the darkness behind him. As he quickly turned around and drew his knife, he came face to face with an orc bearing the colours of his own tribe. He let out a low sigh as he lowered the blade, nodding at him.

“Everything in order, High Blade? I thought I heard your voice.”

“Fine, orc. I was but having company-“ he turned back to gesture at the female behind him, but the spot where she had been pushed down upon stood empty. All but some wafting dust and earth lingered behind him, and as he turned back to his tribesman, he grunted. “… in my dream. You startled me, that is all.”

The orc nodded, though clearly not too convinced of the High Blade’s words by the look on his face. “You’re sought for back at camp. We’re preparing to head out soon.” The orc pondered for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully before he continued. “Dreams have a way to… hit us where it hurts most, sometimes. Good night, High Blade”

“Tell the Chieftain I shall arrive in the morrow,” the orc nodded back before he turned to the fire again. His gaze drifted to the empty spot once more, and as the messenger turned on his heel to leave, the High Blade grunted to himself. “… Not only dreams do so. But a world of shit entirely.”

[Claws]

Ohh nice very thought provoking

[Sadok]

((Simply an awesome story, Koz. I always enjoy your stories -- the exacting attention to detail in your descriptions and the raw nature of the dialogue. Great stuff!))

[Okiba]

A brilliant story! Though i had to admit, my favorite parts are your chosen image and quote at the top of the page xD

good stuff, do want more!

[Groshnok]

I agree with Sadok, the attention to detail is absolutely brilliant.