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Self-doubt and Resolve

Started by Grogok, December 04, 2017, 05:24:07 PM

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Grogok



Kargnar were sitting on the Hill from which Razor hill had gotten its name, and were looking over the town. It had been ages, since he had last set foot here, yet it had not changed at all. Grunts were walking about doing their job safeguarding the town, their captain were spewing orders the hunters moved out into Durotar’s harsh and barren lands to get the meat for the day. Looking over the town, nobody would know that just yesterday a battle had taken place just on the other side of the river nearby. A battle that had lead to an orcs death. Kargnar’s gaze fell on the hill, where the pyre had been, and a long sad sigh slipped past his lips, as his shoulders sank. If only I hadn’t been late, you might have not lost your life

He shook his head slightly, thinking back on the days that had passed since he had received a letter from his chieftain about a looming threat, and that he was to go to stonetalons. The next thing that had happened, were that he found out, that not just him, but every orc of the tribe, and even some orcs with no relations to them had received these letters, and somehow, they had looked to him to be their leader, since he had had the highest rank amongst the tribes’ orcs, while the tribe were still whole. Since then, he had just made everything up as he went, grasping at straws as they got more and more questions, and no answers either.  In his heart, he had questioned every decision he made, from accepting the help of unknown orcs, to which way the orcs should travel. Yet when ever he said something, the orcs listened, and did as he said, not showing the least bit of hesitation, they had trusted him with their lives without ever complaining. Now he had rewarded their trust, with the loss of an orc they had fought beside since the beginning of the mystery of the letters. All because he had decided to check up on the centaurs they had run into while searching for clues, he had been to late. And he blamed himself for that, something that only piled onto his own self-doubt.

He turned his attention away from the pyre, and turned his eye gaze towards the sky, and the planet that now had taken its place there. But although his eyes were locked on the planet, his inner eye saw something else. It saw all the battles he had fought along side the tribe, from the time he had stumbled upon them in Frostfire ridge, wounded and on the run from the Iron horde, they had taken him in, Feraleye had taken him as his new blood, taught him what he needed to be part of the tribe, the dangers he faced with his Blood brother Srelok during his trials, the joy and honor he felt when he had earned his name Bloodpaw, through an om’riggor. The harsh training, he had undergone to become a Nag’ogar, under the tutelage of Rrosh-tul Rimeweaver and the surprise he had felt, when he was chosen to become a Rrosh-tul as well. How he had taken charge during their return to Tanaan, getting the tribe through the portal, and all the way through the frontlines to the camp, where he had officially been named Rrosh-tul as a sign of his trainings completion. All signs of his greatest joys and most honored moments in his life with the tribe. But then came the legions invasion of Azeroth, and his greatest failure as a Rrosh-tul. The chieftain had disappeared, and he was forced to take the role of a leader, yet he had failed. The tribe slowly split up, he had been unable to keep them together, even after they returned to Kalimdor he had failed, and eventually they had split up, the link that connected them had been broken and all semblance of a life had gone with it.

He had spent the next eight months fighting on the broken shore, throwing himself into what ever fight he could, not caring for his own safety, or his own health. He felt he had no right to care when for all he knew, those he had sworn to fight alongside of and protect might be death. It was the only way he could atone for his failure, yet he hadn’t died, and during his continued fighting, he had ended up with other groups of orcs, who decided to fight along side him, and even though he tried, he alone got out alive each time. The circles lasted, until one day he received the letter, awakening his hopes once again, he had left the broken shore and travelled back to Kalimdor once more, hoping his family truly was not lost.

Kargnar let out another sad sigh, as he tore his gaze away from the past, looking down onto Razor hill once more. Here and there, he could spot the red color of the Red blades, making their way about the town, most of them hurrying towards the Inn, or the smithy. “I Returned, yet I still failed you all, can I truly call myself a Rrosh-tul after all this” He asked nobody, because he already knew the answer they would give, for while he felt he had failed them, they still looked upon him with respect he didn’t feel he had earned, they still followed his orders. Beastbane were the only know who had even remotely blamed him for being so late, yet even he had gotten over it, and still presented him as the orc that were the reason all the orcs were gathered and had made it all the way to Razor hill. Something that only made it all that much harder for him, as he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed them, no matter how he look at it, sure they had saved their chieftain and his family, but then again, said chieftain were mortally wounded, and had nearly died, and while they now knew who their enemies were, they still did not know what they were trying to accomplish. Once again, it all just had added more questions without providing enough answers. Was all this truly worth loosing a promising orc like Kargush, or were they just dancing to the tune of some diabolical plot that would tear away at their ranks one orc at a time.

Kargnar shook his head once more, letting a final sigh escape into the evening air, as he got to his feet. The vulnerable Orc gone, and a hard mask of determination had appeared Failure or not, As long as they look to me to lead, I cannot show weakness, once the chieftain is up and about, I can fall into the background and figure it out for myself He thought to himself, lifting up his Warhammer once more staring at the place the pyre had been “I will avenge you Kargush, I will not let a single burning blade orc live, even if it will be the last thing In my life, This is one thing I will not fail to do properly” he slammed his fist to his chest, and the metallic sound of hard plated hitting hard plate, made an echo spreading out into the valley and town below “That much I vow. For the Blood of the Tribe!” the last part, he yelled into the darkness, making a few grunts just below him jump up and grabbing their weapons readying for an attack scanning the area with watchful eyes, yet for some reason they never looked up. Kargnar snarled a little at their uselessness before he walked down from the cliff, returning to Razor Hill


Okiba

An excellent story!

Always lovely to see into the minds of other orcs, from their doubts and how they find resolve!

lovely.
Okiba Spearbreaker - Nag'Ogar and Warrior Monk of the Horde
"Strength, Discipline, Mastery."


Realyn/Eliff

Dance with the waves, move with the sea.
Let the rhythm of the water set your soul free.