Intrusion

[Kran.]

Darkness, fear and doubt came first. Voices; mostly shouting came second. Countless times he heard, certainly Orcs, certainly of many clans, shouting in anger, determination, excitement and most importantly, bloodlust. Once he heard that cursed name, he realised what is going on. It was the moment when the darkness began to disappear. It was the moment he felt his body. He was holding something in his hand? Barely two seconds later, he, once his sight returned, looked down at his hand. Green liquid now appeared in his mouth, then throat. The cup was empty and all of his previous emotions removed. Terrible physical and mental pain didn't last long and turned to unimaginable bloodlust and determination. He looked in the left direction and saw his clan, Bleeding Hollow Clan. Now-a-greenskin Krumoth turned to the left side and took only one step.

This moment, he hit something. Once he reached with his hand to check what is going on, he felt bars. Then, all he was seeing, slowly started to disappear. Shadowy bars shot out of the ground and formed a cage around him. Barely visible Bleeding Hollow Clan was wiped by the shadow, only to turn into future event. He saw Orcs, many. As many as the cages around him, with the said Orcs inside them. Internment camp will always be one of the most hated memories by this Orc, who values freedom above everything else, even honor. He heard a male, Human voice on his right side. Once he saw a middle-aged Human shouting at the imprisoned himself, he felt pain on the back of his head. One second and everything became blurry, then dark once again.

Sight was regained, although the darkness did not disappear entirely. The ongoing situation was about darkness. Dark magic was inflicting incredible pain to Trollish mind. Shadowmage Krumoth Voidclaw; Troll, a rebel, following Vol'jin; and Krumoth's superior were the only ones in this room. Amount of words getting out of Troll's mouth was increasing. Smirk on both of the Orcs' faces was growing bigger. For a moment though.

Everything turned dark once again. For a moment, he thought the first memory will come back, but there was something different. He heard clashing blades, as well as other races. Trolls mainly. Control over the body and sight were regained. He, once again felt something in his hands, but this time it was a body. His mate, with a sword in her chest, was laying on his arms, dead. Mixed feelings; anger and despair were growing stronger with each second. He turned his gaze a bit to the left and saw a dead Human. A Human that killed Krumoth's mate and a moment after was killed by the Bleeding Hollow Orc. He was looking at him for a short moment, before shadow burst out of the Alliance soldier's eyes and mouth, only to make everything dark.

He woke up, with furs all around his body and his usual clothing missing. The small bonfire made by himself earlier was slowly dying out. A quick look around and he saw Alterac and Red Blades in the camp. This sight clearly helped him deal with his mental state in the current situation, although sweat running down his forehead, unimaginably fast heartbeat and unusually fast breathing made it difficult to mutter

"I... must... regain control"