A journey towards death

[Morgeth]

The lush jungle of Feralas; the barren wastes of Desolace. The two orcs moved through these lands at a slow pace, taking into consideration the paths that would bring them furthest from their enemies. Safety, as it seems, had to come first. The younger of the two took the lead, stopping now and then to sniff the air, and search the ground for any tracks. She stood broad and tall, of a considerable size, and her features spoke of the strength of youth, even though her black hair sported streaks of purest white. The tribal attire of scale-like armour and soft leather hugged her dark, green skin, and on it laid the dust and dirt from countless of days spent in the wilds.

Opposing this powerful image, was the other orc, a female as well. Her hair was a mane of white, surrounding features which had long singe wrinkled like old parchment. Ancient eyes, having witnessed the birth and destruction of so many things, had been aged to the point of blindness. Regardless, she still moved forward on her own accord, sticking a wooden staff into the dirt with each step. A fresh gush of wind was sent up towards the face of the old one, causing her to drag a faint smile around her tusks, before her voice gently croaked.
"Shazula, you fear too much. Your steps are safe, and you have brought me down the right paths, as I said you would. We are not far from the lands called the Barrens. The winds already speak of it."
The words of the aged orc brought her apprentice to a halt, and the orc named Shazula lifted her head, eager to smell the same wind that had spoken to her elder. She was given no relief, and her features wrinkled into a frown.
"We are closer, elder. But these lands are treacherous, and you.."
Shazula crouched down, dragging the tips of her fingers over the lasting imprint of what must be a cloven hoof; a satyr. Her lips pursed in brief contemplation, and her head was given a shake, before she dared continue.
".. are dying."

A loud snort made the young orc flinch, and with considerable power, the tip of a wooden staff was driven into the hoofprint of the satyr. Shazula's head turned, and when she peered upwards, the wrinkled features of the elderly orc came into focus.
"I know that, child. Else I would not be making this journey. Do not mourn the passing of old, withering flesh already. You may shed a tear, maybe two, when you have lit my pyre. For the sake of good looks, but we both know I will be whispering secrets into your ear until you wish death was the end of it."

Green fingers, holding the strength of maturity and wisdom, clenched around the broadness of the younger orc's shoulder, and the old shaman smirked, as she brought her apprentice up to stand once more.
"Now lead the way, otherwise I'm sure to stray into some satyr camp, and I'm afraid whacking my staff over demonic skulls will make me late for my own pyre. Not to mention, I have other matters to attend, before I am to be granted any rest."
The proof of humour - albeit it be as bad as it usually gets with old people - caused Shazula to give a light snort, but her own hand rose to clench lovingly over that of the other orc.
"At some point you will have to explain to me why you wish for their company in your last days, elder. Such a large band of orcs, to which you have no immediate tie. I.."
A small sigh replaced any further questions, ending the rant, as the muscled youth drifter from her elderly company.
"I do not understand."
Her confession was low, and - to some degree - plagued with guilt. The supposedly ancient orc's eyes grew momentarily sad, as she witnessed the wight on her apprentice's shoulders, but regardless, her shriveled body strode forward in confidence.
"You will, child. In due time. But come now, let us keep our feet busy, so that we may reach the new homelands of our people soon enough."
With that, the two shamans continued moving towards their goal, and under their feet the earth grew steady, sprouting momentary flowers; the wind grew wild, playing over the dead mountains; and the crackling fires grew in courage, daring to once more believe in that better times would come.

[Kozgugore]

(( Sounds like two picky orcs on adventure. I like! Hope to see more of the rambling elder later on this week. A nice as well as amusing read! ))

[Claws]

You done it again Morg.
NICE.

[Mazguul]

(( How did I miss this? I just adore your style of writing, Morgeth I just wish I was around more to enjoy the company of these two orcs ))

[Kozgugore]

(( Quite adore both of those orcs, indeed! If you get to know both of them better, you'll find there's a whole lot to them. So even though one is only made for certain events in OotRB and one is just an alt, I'm quite surprised to see them reach so deep and have such interesting perspectives! Love the story! Moar! ))