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<dances>
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I too am testing the shoutbox for non-nefarious reasons.
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Author Topic: A Dream of What May Pass - Zul'garr Firefist  (Read 1453 times)

Tideraider

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A Dream of What May Pass - Zul'garr Firefist
« on: September 07, 2018, 04:36:09 AM »
A Dream of What May Pass

On a grey cold day, on a grey cold cliff, overlooking a grey cold sea, there stood a grey cold orc. His stance is rigid as he stares out to the sea, his expression grim. His skin is a deep green, his hair the dull grey of beaten metal. It hangs long about his back and shoulders, though thinning on top, a sign of his age as sure as the lines on his face. Upon his cheeks, two long braids erupt from bushy sideburns, waving gently like chains in the wind. His right eye is a ruin covered with leather, a white milky useless thing surrounded by scars which tell why. He has hidden it with an eyepatch for much of his life, though he felt no shame of it.

His right hand is lost to him, removed at the wrist, though by blast or blade or beast is uncertain. It’s absence is felt all the same. In it’s place sits an iron hook, rusted but still sharp. His left foot too has been misplaced, in it’s stead an iron peg-leg both heavy and ugly in equal measure. It does it’s job, and that is enough for him.

About his shoulder sits a black Kul’tiran great coat, tattered and stained by age and use. On it’s lapel sits what would look like a medal to some. A closer look reveals a sign of loyalty, the symbol of the Red Blade Clan. In his left hand he holds a staff forged of black iron, an M carved into it’s handle and cold blue flame dancing at it’s head.

The Orc turns away from the sea for a moment, glancing from whence he came. In the distance behind him he can see a camp. Few Orcs are awake as it is still the early hours of the morning, but he can see and hear those that do move among the tents. His absence has yet to be noticed. He turns back to the sea.

He stares at the rolling waves beneath him unmoving, until startled by a raven’s cry. The black bird darts past him in a flurry of wind and feathers having appeared as if from nowhere. It flies to a spot in front of the Orc before perching on empty air.

Beneath the raven’s claws, a shadowy form begins to take shape in the empty air above the sea. It is hunched, it’s features hidden by a hood and it leans on a staff similar to that which the Orc holds. Glowing green eyes stare from beneath the figure’s hood as the raven sits on the figure’s shoulder. The raven watches the Orc silently.

A moment passes, and another figure appears to the left of the first. This one stands tall and straight, holding a long-blade in it’s hand, it’s hide guarded by plate and mail. It’s head is shaved and unhelmed, but it’s features are just as hidden as the first. It’s eyes are a dull red and it regards the Orc with indifference.

Another moment, and a third and final figure emerges to the right of the hooded one. This one is clad in a simple robe, it’s hair gathered into a braid behind it’s head, a neatly trimmed beard on it’s chin. It looks at the Orc with sea-blue eyes crinkled by a hidden smile.

The hooded figure extends a hand to the Orc, speaking no words. It’s intent is understood. The Orc takes a deep breath, sadness heavy on his face. He reaches for the clan symbol on his lapel and plucks it from it’s place, gently putting it on the ground between his feet. A sign to mark his passing.

He takes a step forward, standing now on the very edge of the cliff. A fear grips him, an uncertainty, but a voice calls to him from the deep. A voice he has known all his life, and a voice that he has always trusted. He will trust Her today. He reaches out, and takes the hooded figure’s hand, taking a final step.

She had taken him once, and She had given him back. From that day he had been a Son of the Sea.

He now returns to his mother, and his fathers, to rest. A raven cries somewhere as a body falls into the ocean.

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Zul’garr wakes with a start, shaking. He pulls on his waistcoat and takes up his axe, rushing outside. He sees that he is where he thought he was, the pirate port of Freehold. His dream has unnerved him. A raven cries behind him and he almost leaps out of his skin, spinning around with his axe drawn. Birdy is perched on a nearby building, staring down at him quizzically. Zul’garr calms, a grin coming to his face. Birdy hops down, onto his shoulder. Together the two rush down to the coastline, to consult Her.
« Last Edit: September 08, 2018, 12:30:13 AM by Firefist »