Self-punishment.

[Thrash'Nak]

Self-Punishment

The tree shocked through its root as Grogona's bloodied knuckles slamming upon its already crushed and ruined bark, the blood flew down joining with the dirt which soon consumed it, soaking the earth. She kepts slamming the tree as she hissed for air, keeping up the barrage up of wreckingly painful hits, cursing at herself. "Your not weak, keep it up! Keep it up, don't let a fucking lung get the better of you, keep going! If you give up you will run a hundred miles and if you as much as fall just once you will run another hundred! WEAKLING!" The yelling's got consumed by words of tears, but never ceasing too slam the tree, she kept it up, determinded, she was not gonna let a lung get the best of her. She bend down in knees and bound the air around her, she leaped towards the tree as she normally would when stepping through the wind. She met nothing but the bloodied failure of the tree and everything went black.

When she woke it had gotten dark, and the howls of the night emitted all around her. She snarled, cursing and slammed the earth with all her might. She held her palm infront of her eyes, bloodied and broken, she felt the burned scar in her palm, a tear appeared in her eye corner followed by another snarl of anger, she tightented her fist and slammed it into the blood soaked earth and pulled herself too her feet, hissing from the pain. "Run weakling, your not worthy of the tribe, run! RUN!" She kept running hissing and grunting for air, snarling as she felt her body bend under her unbroken will. "No, not now! You still have 50 miles left! Now run! RUN!" Her words were in vein, her legs stopped refusing too move one more step, her whole body was shaking in pain and she felt it, she felt it greatly.

She roared out, slamming her chest and forced her legs one more step before collapsing into the sand, the air filled her lungs, feeling like she was breathing hot steam. The pain was immense, it waved through her, feeling her every being. She was stuck there for what would seem like an eternity, snarling and cursing at herself, punishing herself for being weak, but the pain never stopped.. She was gonna be crippled.. helpless, but no. Not her, she would never give up and with one final push too pushed herself too the absolute last limit, she could feel her calories burning up, ripping at her being. She snarled and kept going, ignoring the agony her body put her in through, her lung roared for her too stop, but she kept going, and going. The camp was in sight, She snarled, she could feel her heel's skin being peeled off, her arms felt like two stone towers, clamping too her body, her legs were bloodied from the countless falls and her throat sour from the curses she yelled.

She stood infront of the small camp, in fornt of the market town, Mar'at where the tribe was stationed and collapsed into her furs. She looked her at her hands, she grapped a small bag from her sacks, containing salt, she sighed before dipping her fresh wounded knuckles into the salt, it pinched but nothing compared too what she had been through. she tied them up in bandages. The pain was nothing compared too the trials Devilstep had put her through. She had starred into the very eyes of death, but beaten by her lung? Pathetic, she thought too herself, she cryed and tried too wipe them off stopping herself, but they kept going, she groweld and kept swearing at herself. "Weak, weak. And you call yourself an orc? A Nag'ogar of the tribe?!" She snapped too herself, her eyes flickered, her body gave up. Her will still wanting too keep herself awake but it was too no end, the warm furs comforting her broken body was too much, her breath calmed and she stopped cursing, never ceasing too snarl at herself. It was almost morning as she finaly closed her eyes.

Her will too stay strong, haunted her dreams, she turned and turned never seeming too find anywhere comfortable, she thought of the tribe, how would she continue too serve her chieftain like this? She thought of her mate, Therak. Would she ever be able too face him after her failure? She thought of the promise she made too her loved sister Rhonya, and her mate Grek'thar, and too her brother Lom'rak, which she had made an oath with. Would she even be fitted too take care of her cub if she were too pass? The thoughts overthrew her, she rushed up panting, snarling and tears couldn't stop, she howled quietly curling together dragging the sheets over her head, hidding from sight.
She snarled at herself, and held her hand pressed against the bandaged area, causing herself more pain, punishing herself, she snarled again. The tears stopped, perhaps because her body simply didn't allow her too cry more, or because she was too determinded too keep on going. She grapped her sacks, filled with metal, no way fucking way she was gonna bend over for some lung too have its way, fuck no! She's an orc of the warsong clan, battleborn in the heat of war! Blademaster of the horde, Nag'ogar of the red blades! She swore an oath too stay with the tribe, she swore an oath too her beloved within the tribe, if she would fail at such things she did not deserve too live. The thought flew through her head, like sand over the desert being moved by the rough wind.

She didn't mind the pain waving through her body or the soaring pain that flew through her body each stroke she blew upon the anvil. She snarled, bending the metal too her will, heating it, and hammering again, she kept on and cryed out in pain with every hit. The metal slowly took shape, she took the finished plates and strapped them on her body, snarling at the new weight, but she didn't care. She wouldn't let her lung take the course of her life, she kept hammering more steel forging more armor, and strapping new pieces on.

Finaly she strapped on the last piece of armor, she felt the large axe in her hands, she felt in sweeping through the air. It was a new sensation, a new feeling. She could go on, she could keep on fighting. She kept swining it, it felt like a jump in time, as she suddenly was swinging her axe against a training dummy. She kept swinging it, felt the power surging through her body, she started smirking, her confidence returned, she was once again worthy of the tribe.

(( Just a note, this was before the scouting event and i hope my spelling wasn't too bad. ))

[Rhonya]

((Aww, poor Gro'gona! Rhon should look more after her, she's only hurting herself, that's no good! Nice read, and the spelling was quite alright, didn't disturb me much while reading. I liked it!)

[Okiba]

<3

why do i get the feeling you re-rolled...

[Thrash'Nak]

Orc paladin. *Sagenod*, Nah i changed my warrior too a second grogona and she can't "use" air anymore. But thanks diffently makes me wanna write more. ^^