-Part 2: Remember-
The night came like a welcoming breeze through the tall grass. Although for some it was a harsh climate but to Broshgar it reminded him of home. Some months had passed since he came to this strange place. Durotar.
Outside the Orcish city of Orgrimmar, not far from it, he took the liberty to build himself a small hut for himself. All he ever needed was a bed, a table and two chairs, a rug on the floor and a fireplace to cook his meals and/or to keep himself warm on colder nights. But this night… It was a pleasent temperature.
He laid down on the arid earth and gazed upon the stars above, allowing himself a mere distraction of thought and remembrance. At times he could almost swear that he heard his own thoughts of how the memories went on and on.
"Father... "
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"Father!"
"…Mmm..."
"I want to hear a story!"
"Well.. you woke me up from my sleep, so.. might aswell.."
"Tell me of Grommash Hellscream and how he fought against the demons!"
"That tale again, Broshgar..? I've told you that so many times.."
"I know, but I love that story!"
"Alright, alright, now.. let us lit a candle and I tell you how our great Warchief came to be.."
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Broshgar couldn't help himself but to chuckle at the memory, oh how he loved his father telling him that tale. At the same time, he couldn't help but to miss him and all the fun they had as father and son. They were best friends.
The memory played on until another memory came to. The smile faded and he locked his gaze upon a bright star in the sky.
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Fire. Blood. Sounds of swords and axes clashing against one another and screams of pain, anger combined.
Broshgar was but a teenager at the time and he had learned how to fight early in his years. The Draenei had begun to break the peace because of their new-found fanaticism.
"Broshgar!"
"Father!"
"Keep fighting, son, we have to find your mother!"
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Broshgar rose from the earth and he didn't wish to remember about what happened. He went inside his hut and stood in front of the fireplace, gazing in to the fire while he roasted the pork he butchered from a pig earlier today. The memory wanted to come forth, but Broshgar shook his head. No. It remains in the past and should stay there in the past.
With a rusty knife he carved the pork and put it on a small plate which he held in his free hand. With a somewhat heavy thump he sat down in his chair and began to dine. He could hear the sound of a howling wolf in the distance, filling in the silence.
The howl reminded him when he met his first mate, Sahna. In some desperation to forget the memories he continued to dine, trying to focus on that instead of the memory.
"… Still afraid of me, Warsong, afraid of the big bad wolf coming to get you..?"
Broshgar closed his eyes for a moment and responded to the memory. "No, I ain't...", he whispered.
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The good memories of Sahna played on, she had ebon-black long hair that was made in to a ponytail that sometimes hanged loosely in front of her arms when she turned to respective left-or-right. She had curves but in a more athletical manner and her eyes were light-brown, much like his own. Then he remembered how she met her fate. It was a quick death, an arrow straight for the heart and it ended her existence. Broshgar remembered the shock and the overwhelming anger he felt as he brought his axe down upon another Draenei after the other.
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Broshgar opened his eyes and stared through the tiny window, still hearing the howl of the wolf not far.
"Oh Sahna, I wish you were here with me, not in only spirit but in the flesh too."
He couldn't grieve appropriately and he didn't want to. To him it would be a disgrace of him to shed tears for Sahna, he chose not to, instead he turned it to something else. Anger. He used it as fuel or like a drive to make him pushing ahead when he was in a fight. If his father taught him anything, both pain and pleasent memories could be a trigger. Letting the anger out in battle was the best course of action. However, that was not the only thing he was taught. Honor. To his family, his clan and those you fight along side with.
Honor. Tradition. Family.
Such was the way of his parents, his grandparents and his ancestors. Such would be his way, aswell.