Claws took out her tatted journal as her head hit the bundle of old leather armour used as a pillow.
She opened the pages, old and fading running her fingers over the words on the parchment.
Written on the first few pages in her blood now a deep dark brown colour faded over time.
Her Personal oath of honour, which she has stayed true to all her fighting life.
Her oath to the tribe.
Her code of battle.
Her own lament.
Those within the ranks of the tribe that have proven their abilities in battle and stood shoulder to shoulder with me in battle will carry my unquestioning respect from the afterlife; the rest will have to earn it.
An old sock fell out from the pages which brought a smile to her face “Oz when did you sneak that in here”?
She held the sock for a while she noticing the smell had final gone and placed it back into the journal.
“Were where they all now Oz, Varg, Reh, Akesha, Yorla, Ghook, Kaz, had you all finally made your way to the afterlife?” “I will not be much longer here dear friends”.
A solitaire tear ran down her cheek, something that had not happened for many years.
She could count on her two scared hands now the Orc she counted as her friends, ones she had gone into battle with and bleed with and still walked the Great Plains.
From the hundreds listed in the tribal journals there were only a few still alive.
“Perhaps I’m the last of the original tribe, Bah ya getting soft old girl in ya age”, a smile returned to her face.
She read on turning page after page, stories of valour, stories of conflict within the tribe as well as outside the tribe, the visions of Akesha, her own visions.
Report after report, names of the fallen, some names she no long recognized.
Reports that brought a fit of laughter, a crude picture of Koz being dragged along the ground by a Ram.
“Oh Yes the Ram saga” she let out the laugh, he had tried to race a ram many moons ago at some festival, his look of pure rage as he hit the poor ram for dumping him on the ground,
She remembered his sulking for days after and him telling her not to say a word to any other Orc,
“Bah not natural for any Orc ta ride a Dolf beast anyways” was his last words on the matter as he strolled of to sulk some were alone.
She read on and came to some pages which had stuck together.
Carefully separating the pages she started to read what had all most faded to nothing.
Brothers and Sisters.
Who are we? I ask you again Who are we?
We are the Red Blades of The Horde.
Not a bunch of rabble at each others throat.
I say again
We take our name’s from some of the greatest fighters ever known within the realms, some of us even carry the same weapons past down from generations of battle hardened Orc.
We are the ultimate fighters of the Horde.
We use any weapon that comes to hand or mind.
We are pure tuned fighting machines.
We are muscle and stamina with the will to live and beat your enemy into total submission.
We will put our lives down for the protection of others within our tribe.
Not needlessly throwing our lives away but with calculating minds knowing that one sacrifice can turn the tide of battle, or save the lives of many.
We follow the orders of our captains and leaders with total devotion, waiting for the time to carry out the job we were breed for to strike hard and fast.
We have no time for the ceremony of battle let them that can throw up there great walls of totems do that, let them that can draw down the curses of the abyss do that.
We let the enemy see there own deaths coming for them head on, by bow, blade or unarmed flesh it does not matter only victory matters.
We live for war and the blood lust that infuses us.
We are the Horde death reincarnate.
Loyalty to Lord Thrall and to the tribe will never be tolerated or be an issue.
She remembered starting to writing this speech many seasons past at a time when moral within the tribe was low.
Even Thrall had gone on a long walk to find his self.
She had never finished it due to upheaval with in the tribe a time when Koz and her self had walked away from the tribe for a short time to reflect on the ensuing chaos.
It was during the time of Akesha’s self-imposed absence from the tribe Koz was left to control the tribe.
Wide riffs threatening to tear the tribe apart started to appear.
A plan was drawn up between the officers of the tribe, “There was only Koz and myself no others would stand up and be counted”, they were hard days.
How times had changed.
It was thought that the tribe could form into factions let the Orc decide on what faction the he or she wished to be part of.
It was a good plan a good idea.
But chaos grew out of this idea.
Faction started fighting faction personal battles ensued; Koz came down with a firm hand and quashed the chaos and a few heads.
This was all old history now but none the less history that may be one day should be placed in the records of the great halls.
She had written this speech to try to rally the tribe back together.
Perhaps now would be a good time to read the speech.
To bring the tribe back together to go out once again as a tribe and claim what is rightfully ours. Not as individuals but as the
Red Blades
Claws started to drift off to sleep as thoughts raced through her mind.
Battle that is all she had known.
She was tired of the battle, the blood, and the deaths of many old friends.
She had learned to keep apart from the tribe not to get to close to any within the tribe in the fear of losing them and once again being left alone.
Yes she had been ridiculed for this but what are a few words thrown at her for sitting off from the tribe “Water of a ducks back” as the humans would say.
It was her way.
Claws way.
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