"Spirits are complicated, as they have always been. Since the days of the first Shaman, Orcs have known this best as none upon the homeworld could had the connection with them that we do. Though we revere them, always be careful for they are mischievous as often as they are helping."
It had been months since Trakmar had heard from any of the tribe. Ever since the members dwindled and the spirit link as mysteriously broken, he like the others had faded to his own path. He himself had spent his time serving the wild spirits, sacrificing, honoring them. The Legion put the world in turmoil, and so it was only natural such work was needed. At times, even the spirit of earth had answered to his sacrifices though only in faint whispers, something he had not experienced since his youth on the homeworld.
Back on Kalimdor, the wilds of which he now strangely called home he had largely remained. Winterspring had become a welcome refuge for the old orc, especially since it seemed more or less untouched by the Legion save for the odd demon. He had considered remaining here, retire as it were and focus on raising his daughter.
"Rokarna... Been months since I last saw her. At least she is safe on the homeworld."
A comforting thought. Though with the Legion invading he had not dared bring her back to Azeroth in case the world would see a similar fate to Draenor.
Trakmar sat by the fire outside his den, eating a stag he and Kyrazha had hunted. He had tried to make her join his rites and rituals, albeit with varying success, and some difficulty in the beginning. The effect of being raised by another race still sat to some degree, though he had done what he could in order to make her a more traditional orc which had worked to some success.
He looked around in their small camp, thinking. Everything appeared normal. He and his mate enjoyed the result of their hunt, as well as their companions. Lian and Ka’rogh resting in their den and J’ror resting by the two orcs near the fire. He set his eyes on the fire again, thinking until Kyrazha broke the silence.
“Thinkin’ about them visions again, Trakmar?” She asked, while looking at him.
Trakmar suddenly snapped out of his thoughts, looking to Kyrazha and nodding.
“It’s been months since we last saw the Tribe. The link mysteriously broke, along with the connection to the old clan’s ancestors. What the wolf first showed me in the visions was mountains and vague figures. But now they be more clear - The Chieftain, Rhonya, Kargnar and others residing in red mountains. And a wolf howling in pain. All I know, it shows old tribesorcs, and Stonetalon. Though I cannot make sense of anything else.”
The old orc grunted, bothered by the visions vagueness, despite being perfectly familiar with how visions tend to be like that. After a pause he spoke again; “We should go there. Though I can’t get rid of the feeling that bad things will happen.
He looked back to the fire in contemplation, then to Kyrazha again as she placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Then we go. Of what use be we here in these mountains anyway? Demons invade this world and we do… What exactly? We go south. Maybe meet with Steelheart. Then you two can talk about the vagueness of spirits together instead of boring me with it!”
A snappy tongue on her as always, Trakmar thought. He grunted at what he found to be somewhat insulting to the spirits granting the visions, but nodded in agreement anyway. She was right. If Rhonya was still in the Barrens and alive, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume she’d have visions as well. Perhaps some answers too. As he spoke, he pushed himself to his feet and took his poleaxe, then looked down at Kyrazha.
“Then we had best move. Days don’t last long here this time of the year, and we be having some distance to cover.”
With her usual smirk, Kyrazha pushed herself to her feet as well, grabbing her bow and the few other belonging they had, followed shortly by Lian and the two worgs.
They put out the fire, then started wandering...
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