The quest for the history of the tribe

[Norv]

"This time it will work."
The ash of the herbs previously burned in countless attempts to call the spirits was dissipating. They had all failed. The spirits just wouldn't listen. Maybe she was too untrained. True... Well, there was no such attempt now. Now she used powerful arcane spells, learned from a secret sin’dorei school of magic, to open a portal to another time and space.
"It's here."
A deep fog was gathering around, and a portal became visible. Morsha entered with no hesitation, and came to a clearing. A few orcs near a fire. No one seemed to smell her at all. One of them was looking out in the distance, and then he started to sing, an old sad song she had never heard before.
"One of the old songs!"
She stayed still, listening. The last sounds went away and a deep silence took their place, each was lost in thoughts of their own. Later in the night most went silently to their tents, only the one who sang remained near the dying fire. Morsha saw him take a scroll and writing. She approached carefully, though she felt just as foggy as the thick air around, and bent over his shoulder. He was writing a story, and the song! She took a scroll and copied it quickly, fearing it may disappear.
Her fear was not unwarranted, for soon thereafter, the fog became more dense, and she felt like going down. She closed her eyes, dizzy. When she opened them again, she was to the place when she had started the invocation.
"That was all, can't be, just one?...aw broke my vow for just one story, kaeldamn it! I mean…aw, nevermind! But it's a good one, it was worth it..."
She was just too tired to think about the broken vow, about the arcane magic she used again, and should not have done it. But she wanted the stories too bad.
She let herself sit down, slowly. She opened the scroll and straightened it with her palm, then completed the recovered story with its title: Songs and tales on the path of an Orc.

---

...She felt him watching, rather than hear him or anything else. Looked up and saw him, the grey wolf, with his big grey eyes watching her. Big, understanding eyes and yet so sad... Those eyes made her feel guilty before he said a word.
"I called you! You wouldn't listen, what would you have me do? My tribe needs their history! They need the bonding their old stories can give them, if they are to survive these times, you have to understand, you do, don't you?"
The wolf's eyes seemed even more sad.
"You are the Spirit of Time, aren’t you? My quest finally brought you here"
The wolf shook his head.
"Your tribe should have the history they remember."
"Err, no…not necessarily, things happened, The Wolf-Lorekeeper is not around anymore, scrolls were lost, it’s not so simple, I need to bring them back somehow"
"Your tribe deserve the history they remember." The wolf said it so clear that it sounded harsh, and it made her uneasy. "Did you ask them, about their history? Did you ask for their stories? You are in a tribe now, you cannot go on doing alone, the way you want, things that concern the others."
"Err, I, no, I did not ask them."
The wolf was looking at her with same soft grey eyes full of sadness, and he did not say anything but she wanted to explain:
"I, I just wanted to understand a few things before asking them…one knows a tribe by its history" her words sounded empty. Then she looked at him with sudden understanding.
"Yours is not the Aspect of Time, it is Memory. So my quest for the history of the tribe is not about time…?"
The wolf nodded.
"Your tribe needs to remember themselves, they should not be forced into anything. If it still belongs to them, they will remember. If they don’t, then they changed, and should follow their other path. There is nothing wrong with that."

---

It was late in the night and the wolf was not there anymore.
She took the scroll and rolled it carefully. Among her scrolls, including those the future will bring, there will only be one of this kind, a scroll scavenged from the remains of time itself. The rest will be different, there will be stories from those who remember. If they will remember…
The fire was dying but she did not care anymore. She stood up and walked slowly to the tent. A calm though sad voice she had never heard before that night was singing in her head

    "Imagine to wander the great forests here
     by the great oaks and the beautiful pines
     the dancing shadows of the sunsets fiery mane
     those forests are me, so dear... "

[Kozgugore]

(( Nice one! And even nicer to see someone taking an interest in the tribe's old grumps! Not to mention described in such an interesting and peculiar way, too. Who knows what else Morscha may uncover anytime soon. Thanks for the good read.

And fixed the link. ))

[Ugluhk]

(( I feel like I have missed something about Morsha... Anyway, great written! I miss Xenya as well And Ozzie and Loial... although Loial is back in another shape... ))

[Greggar]

(( Nice one there ^^ Really nice read ))

[Claws]

((Nice return to old times I remember that time well. I must admit I was confused on the story until I read the link then it made sense to me well done.))

P.S.
Xenya sprit is still around if you listen to the wind.

[Ugluhk]

P.S.
Xenya sprit is still around if you listen to the wind.

She is? O.o I doubt she will remember me though...

[Kozgugore]

(( She rejoined us a while ago but left after a week or two. Didn't show up on any of the events during that time though, afaik. That's beside the point though. Back on topic. ;3 ))