Too far.

[Therak]

The orc footsteps left a faint track in the dust on the road, quickly erased by the strong winds. Behind him lay the green fields of Mulgore. Where he'd left another orc in a state that could only be described as a crying wreck.
He hadn't meant to do it. He certainly hadn't meant to hurt her like that. That was the main reason he hadn't told her in all the years he'd known it...
He kicked hard at a pebble, muttering under his breath as it clattered along the road. Couldn't she just stop accusing him? He'd done nothing but his best for the tribe since he got back. He... -He- had warned her about the cultists plan to if possible use her cubs as leverage. And he had taken a knife to the gut for it. And then He. -He- had been the one to find their camp, and kill every cultist within it! He kicked angrily at another stone. But his rage melted away again. Every time he blinked, he saw her. Hand clasped to her mouth. Eyes filled with tears, and horror when the reality of what she had done hit her. His ears was filled with his own voice, pushing on. Driving the point home with razor sharp, cutting words. Pushing harder as she was stumbling back. Every instinct in his body going for the kill.
"Damn wind..." He muttered, wiping at his eyes. "Blowing the cursed dust straight into my eyes..." He wiped again, the tears making it hard to see clearly.
He kicked at another stone, screaming his rage out over the Barrens.

"Sh... She doeshnt ever back down... Alw... Alway... Never shtops yelling... Like every... everyshi... Like all that happened ish my fault..."
The orc was slurring, empty jug of whisky dangling from his hand, his head resting on the other arm, on top of the bar. He didn't really notice the swaying of the zeppelin, that every once in a while made the other empty jug roll from his foot, into the table, and then back. The goblin, standing on a small box watched the orc warily. He might be small as orcs go. But a small orc can still cause a large mess. There were two bruisers in the background, trying to look inconspicous as they stood on each side of the dorway.
Therak slammed the emtpy jug down on the bar, clumsily smashing it. "Barkeep... Another one of thish..."
"I think... You should consider heading to your cabin. It's getting late..." The goblins squeeky voice made Therak want to squeeze his hands around its throat. Watching the eyes bulge as life left them.
"I sh... shaid... Another one!" His raised voice made one of the two bruisers, the younger of them. Reach for his cudgel, but a shake of the head from the other one brough his hands back to his belt.
"Look... I'm all out, this is your second jug. We're not carrying that much of that whisky... We'll be docking in Tirisfal in just a couple of hours. Perhaps resting at your cabin would be a better idea..."
The goblin dove behind the counter when the orc pushed back his chair with a roar. Kicking hard at the empty jug at his feet. But that was as far as it went, as he hung his head, muttering something and stumbled off towards his cabin.

The forsaken who helped tie the rope from the zeppelin to the tower, just shook his head, as the obviously drunk orc stumbled past him, and had to lean on the railing at the starecase to stop himself from tumbling to his death.
He nodded to one of the bruisers. "Damn orcs eh? I think they are drunk more then dwarves are..."

OOC:
A very short story about Theraks reaction after an encounter as he left Mulgore early this morning!