New Friendships

[Razaron]

New Friendships

Razaron was surprised at how deft the broken was at getting through the swamp, he did it with the speed and grace of a great feline cat. “You move well for someone of your deformity drean..” Razaron was interrupted, “I am draenei no longer young orc, we are the broken.” Razaron raised a brow wondering why he would no longer take the name of his race, the deformed draenei must of had some deep reservations about his kin. “Back in Argus there was a time where we practiced the Jed’hin, a ritualistic combat. It would train the dreanei in the art of physical combat, only those with dexterous determination would win. Generations since those times perhaps some has stayed along our lineage young orc.” The broken quipped demonstrating as he acrobatically lifted himself in the air, twisting his body as he span through two arching tree trunks narrowly getting through the tightest of gaps. “Very impressive, it sounds like something similar to what my grandmother taught me, that too was a form of fighting that my bloodline knew, drea.. sorry broken..” Again Razaron was quickly interrupted as the broken stopped and turned around and faced his new traveling companion. “My name is Pavon and you?” Razaron gulped, “I am Razaron.. the Insane.”

“The Insane?” Pavon’s eyes narrowed on the orc, he then proceeded to circle Razaron looking him up and down. Neska started to growl unsure off the broken draenei’s intentions. Pavon held out his hand in front of Razaron’s face, his palm opened and stubby fingers stretched out. “Krokul? No! You are not broken child. I am not educated in orcish naming but who would give you such a name?” Razaron’s gaze plummeted to the floor as Neska rushed over to stroke herself on his green orcish hand. “My father.. My father did.” His gaze now rose to match that of Pavon. “But it wasn’t his fault! It was the demons! The Fel the..” For the third time Razaron was interrupted. “Not his fault was it? Was he forced to drink the demon’s blood?” Razaron stumbled with his words, “Yes.. No, he was made to! Wasn’t he?” Pavon face smirked as he twirled his stocky finger through his tentacle like beard. “Child, he must take responsibility for his actions or be chained to them forever.” Razaron spoke up, “But he can’t.” Pavon’s brow was now raised as he instantly replied, “He can’t?” the young orc let out a long sigh, “No, he is dead. I was there, the trolls of Stranglethorn Vale. They ambushed us, we barely survived the onslaught. After I lost him I lost all that held me to the Horde. My life is my own now Pavon.” Pavon nodded a few times and turned around and continued to run through the swamp, “Come along Razaron the Insane, I need to show you something.” Razaron looked at Neska for reassurance and then with a gulp followed Pavon through the vast swampland.   

Pavon pushes past the last few branches of a warped tree and stopped, he’s was now standing in a open field, “Welcome my young friend, welcome to the Harborage!” Images raced through Razaron’s mind, he had heard countless stories in his childhood about how the draenei’s building’s were curved in design, round arching buildings, impossible structures that orcish builders could only dream of making. As he quickly moved past Pavon and entered the open plain he was left disappointed, all that stood there were some very crude wooden huts with some spikes darted around the perimeter to deter intruders, “You were expecting more Razaron the Insane? I can see it on your face! I tell you again we are no longer draenei, we survive on this world out of determination...” Pavon’s eyes narrowed, poking Razaron in the shoulder and finishing with just three more words, “..just like You!” He was right, Razaron was a survivor, all he had was Neska and even then he didn’t understand how she came to be. Pavon looked across at Razaron’s female friend putting a hand on her back, “You should take better care of her Razaron, I fear she’s all you have now.” Razaron turned to look at Neska, her emerald green eyes would light up the darkest room but Razaron was confused, why had this broken one led him here to his home? Razaron asked that exact question, “Pavon, why have you led me here, after all we did to your kind? This is your home!” Pavon nodded, he understood why Razaron was confused, it was time he told the young orc why he had asked him to join him on his journey. “The spirits tell me of your struggles child, they do not forgive you, not easily and not any time soon! But they see something in you, I see something in you. Something more then just a lost orc surviving in a swamp. Razaron the Insane, come along we have much to discuss!”