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Shoutbox

Razaron:
2024 May 14 17:54:07
The website has never looked better!
Zakarah:
2023 Dec 29 21:06:51
I think Rashka.exe has stopped working.
Rashka:
2023 Dec 28 20:49:43
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA... A.
Realyn/Eliff:
2023 Jul 22 22:17:06
Such shouty people in here, gosh.
Rashka:
2023 Jul 20 01:42:16
Remember to shout your lungs out every once in a while!!
Kozgugore:
2023 Jul 08 17:30:53
Shouting here to make sure everyone knows that I'm still here!
Ootah:
2022 Jan 24 23:27:52
Wow I can't believe I remembered my password!
Razaron:
2021 Dec 18 15:37:28
<dances>
Vraxxar:
2021 Nov 10 12:24:52
Remember to check both ways before crossing the plains!
Vraxxar:
2021 May 22 14:10:40
I too am testing the shoutbox for non-nefarious reasons.
Kozgugore:
2021 May 22 13:55:49
This is me testing the shoutbox, because shouting is a great stress relief and it would be a shame if it doesn't work.
Rashka:
2021 Mar 25 03:38:20
IM SHOUTING SO HARD RIGHT NOW YOU GUYS.
Claws:
2020 Nov 20 00:14:09
Ice cream for all
Realyn/Eliff:
2020 Oct 09 09:49:55
Happy Anniversary!!! It's party timeeee!
Vraxxar:
2020 Sep 24 12:39:42
Oh god. The warlock found the shoutbox!
Gashuk:
2020 Sep 23 16:42:21
THE SHOUTBOX. Omg. This was like proto-Discord.
Vraxxar:
2020 Aug 23 09:36:02
*Grabs a camera to record what happens*
Nakobu:
2020 Aug 22 16:24:43
*prods shoutbox*
Razaron:
2020 Jun 16 10:34:12
<dances>
Vraxxar:
2020 Jun 05 13:32:27
Swedish Pagans?
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That Fateful Day In Orgrimmar

Started by Zitani, May 15, 2019, 10:20:04 PM

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Zitani

        Orgrimmar. The capital city of the Horde. Here was where people of all races and creeds came â€" some to find work, others to answer the call for soldiers. Others still for trade. There was no real order to the city. Buildings were crammed in where they might fit â€" might being the operative word. The city was always alive, always buzzing.

   The scent hit you first. A mixture of sweat, blood, animals, excrement, death, chemistry...It all mingled in the air â€" occasionally with the smells of whatever people were cooking. The heat of Durotar made them that much more noticeable.

   Zi'tani walked quietly through the crowds of the city, ducking aside to avoid swinging beams of wood, or stumbling out of someone's way. It was clear to anyone that she was not from here. That she did not belong. She had been raised in the icy tundra of Frostfire Ridge, born to the clan of the Frostwolves. They did not build cities. Only a life and a culture that was near impossible to find anywhere else.

   Of course, navigation was never her strong point. And in this maze of a city, it was easy to get lost. The dusty streets turned to muddied waters and bridges, dirty coloured banners and tarps and all sorts of fabrics draped seemingly at random. Tents and rough huts made up the buildings here â€" inhabited by the small green creatures she had learned to be goblins. They seemed to come in one of two types; upbeat and swindling as always, or downtrodden and miserable. And now that she saw how they lived, she could understand why. This was not a life she could ever try to settle down to.

   The ground squelched beneath her feet, muddied water forming briefly in each print she left before it disappeared once more. Voices called across her surroundings, screeching about their wares, or money owed, or someone to do something. It was so very different from the village the clan inhabited, she reflected. Some trolls could be seen amidst the goblins, arguing, bartering, haggling.

   It was almost painful to see the life some had no choice but to lead.

   Zi'tani focused on her path, moving forward. Perhaps she should have gone back to the dustier streets. But her curiosity got the better of her, and her feet carried her onward. She should have brought someone with her, but it was too late now. Even if the clan had sent someone to find her, how could they? She had been lost to the crowds some time ago.

   More noise. More yells. Birdsong as well, strangely. The sound of weapons being forged and ground against whetstones. The bashing of metal upon metal. Heavy footsteps upon the bridges. Musical voices rising in song here and there. Her ears twitched with every new sound, her mind drifting towards fantasizing what might have caused it. Whether she was correct or not made no difference â€" her imagination ran wild.

   Until the sound of a howling wolf caught her attention.

   Instantly, she knew the howl was wrong. It was not a joyful howl. Nor was it a lonely one. No, this howl was of pain and fear. And it put her legs into motion before she even had a chance to register it. Swiftly, she pushed her way through the throng of people â€" her feet pounding upon the wooden bridges as heavily as hammers striking a tree.

   Another howl rang out. It spurred her onwards. She did not care that it was not her wolf. She did not stop to think that it might be a wolf that already belonged to someone. It did not matter. A wolf cried out, and her blood demanded that she answer the call.

   Around the corner she sprinted, her heart hammering in her chest as she looked around the area â€" seeking out the animal that seemed to call out to her. No sign of any wolves in pain. She stopped and listened, hoping for another howl to grace her ears, to give her a chance to hunt the wolf down. As if the spirits had heard her silent prayer, the howl of the pained wolf rang out once more. North.

   Once more she set off, shoving past any who dared to get in her way. Another wolfish cry rang out, but this was more of a loud whimper than a howl. Something had hurt the beast.

   Up ahead, she could see a crowd gathering, arguing among themselves. Some were jeering, others were yelling for the guards. Was this what the wolf called her to? She could just about see over the heads of the squabbling goblins to the large white wolf that huddled protectively against the cliff wall. And a fat goblin menacing her with a mace.

   Something in Zi'tani snapped. She let out a furious roar that thundered through the noise of the crowd, her hands curled into fists. It was like a wild animal had taken over â€" her throat burning as she bellowed wordlessly. The crowd fell silent, every individual turning to stare at the angry orcess that towered over them. It did not take long for them to quickly scramble to the sides, giving her a path through.

   As she marched angrily towards the goblin with the mace, her clouded mind observed the bloodied stump where the wolf's paw had once been. A deep gash stained her side â€" her white fur quickly turning red. Mud and dust coated whatever was not bloodied. The bestial matriarch let out a wounded howl, perhaps knowing help was coming.

   The goblin turned towards the orcess, brandishing his mace. “Whaddya want, brownskin?” He snarled, menacing her whilst keeping an eye on the wolf.

   â€œLet. Her. Go.” The words were growled out, barely containing her hatred of the small creature.

   â€œI ain't about ta do that. She's mine, see. I c'n do whatever I like. You best be pushing along, missy,” the goblin stated bluntly. The wolf growled in response.

   What happened next was a blur for Zi'tani. One moment, the wolf was growling. And then time seemed to slow down as the goblin turned and raised his mace to slam it down into the head of the wolf, which collapsed. Red clouded Zi'tani's vision.

   What brought her back to reality was the terrified screams of the crowd gathered behind her. She blinked, staring at the goblin â€" whose throat she was now crushing, his back pinned to the wall. He was knocked out, the skin split open across his cheek and his nose broken. The screams faded into a maddened hubbub as guards forced their way onto the scene.

   â€œWhat's going on here?” Demanded one, while his two comrades forcefully yanked Zi'tani away from the goblin.

   â€œShe jus' SNAPPED, sir! Laid him out wid one punch, den started STRANGLIN' 'im!” One goblin yelled, staring at her fearfully. She was still dazed, the edges of her vision still tinged with red.

   â€œThat true, orc?” The guard asked, moving to stand in front of her, glaring.

   She opened her mouth to speak. But her throat hurt. Her words came out hoarse. “...He hit the wolf...” She managed at last. The guard did not look convinced.

   â€œWoman, I dunno how they do things back on your old world. But here, y'don't just attack someone outta the blue,” he lectured her. His words sounded distant over the sound of her blood pounding in her ears, the sound of her deep and laboured breaths. “I ain't seen ya before, so I won't arrest you this time since ya ain't killed 'im. But next time, you won't be so lucky. Get that 'un to a healer!” He yelled as he turned away. Zi'tani was released, collapsing onto all fours. The two guards that had held her back now picked up the unconscious goblin whilst simultaneously shooing the crowd away.

   In small groups, the goblins drifted away, their entertainment now spoiled. Eventually, only she and the wolf remained. Tiredly, she dragged herself over to the fallen beast and reached down to touch the side of its muzzle. It did not move.

   â€œC'mon, girl. Get moving â€" let me know you're okay,” the orcess whispered, patting the dirty and bloodied wolf on its muzzle, then lightly smacking its shoulder. Still nothing. Dread rose in the young woman's chest, and she slumped down to press her head against the wolf's side, listening for a heartbeat. Though the wolf's body was warm, there was no sound of breathing. No heartbeat.

   The sounds of the city faded for her as the realisation crept through her like the chill of winter. The wolf still did not stir. She never would again.

   Leaning against the broken wolf's body, Zi'tani's vision wavered and swam before her as her eyes welled up with tears. Tears of grief, anguish, pain. Tears of blame â€" for not reaching the wolf in time. Tears of anger at the small, pointless creature that had stolen away the life of such a majestic creature. Tears for the loss of lives in this pointless war. Tears for her family, lost to another war on another world.

   No-one disturbed her as she sobbed breathlessly into the wolf's fur, letting out all of the emotions that had steadily built up since she first stepped foot on Azeroth. She wept for every loss she had suffered, and for the wolf who would never run and howl again. She wept until there were no more tears to shed, until her eyes reddened. She wept...Until a soft snuffle reached her ears.

   Hopeful, she sat up and stared at the wolf. Perhaps she had been wrong, perhaps the creature had lived after all! Upon seeing it had not moved, her shoulders slumped. She had been imagining things.

   Another soft snuffle. This time, she was certain it was real. But strangely, it came from the wolf. No, not the wolf. Behind the wolf. She reached to slowly pull the wolf's body towards her. Inch by inch, she managed to pull it away a little from the wall. Peering over the wolf, she spotted a small lump of fur â€" separate from the bestial matriarch. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she reached down to touch the lump of fur. It uncurled to reveal the sweet face of a pup. The dead wolf had been a mother.

   Zi'tani's expression became one of wonder at such a small, innocent little creature, and grief that it was an orphan. She reached down and grabbed the pup to lift it up. It stared back at her, its tail tucked between its little hind legs. It gave a small whimper, before snapping at her.

   â€œI'm not gonna hurt you,” she told it, before bringing it to her chest to hug it gently. It snapped at her arm and gnawed at her flesh for a moment. She did not even register any pain. After a moment, it stopped. Soon, its little snout came sniffling under her chin, followed by a tentative lick.

   Despite her grief for the wolf, Zi'tani smiled. “I'm sorry I couldn't save your mother,” she murmured, gently stroking the pup's side. “I ain't got parents either. But you got me now. I'll take care of you, I promise.” The tiny rough tongue licked her chin again, as if the pup understood her. She stared down at the wolf matriarch, still sad by her death â€" and grateful for the gift she had left behind. “I'll always take care of you.”
Rollerskating at right angles to reality.