Orcs of the Red Blade

 
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December 06, 2021, 02:18:30 PM

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Shoutbox

Vraxxar:
2021 Nov 10 11:24:52
Remember to check both ways before crossing the plains!
Vraxxar:
2021 May 22 13:10:40
I too am testing the shoutbox for non-nefarious reasons.
Kozgugore:
2021 May 22 12:55:49
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 02:38:20
IM SHOUTING SO HARD RIGHT NOW YOU GUYS.
Claws:
2020 Nov 19 23:14:09
Ice cream for all
Realyn/Eliff:
2020 Oct 09 08:49:55
Happy Anniversary!!! It's party timeeee!
Vraxxar:
2020 Sep 24 11:39:42
Oh god. The warlock found the shoutbox!
Gashuk:
2020 Sep 23 15:42:21
THE SHOUTBOX. Omg. This was like proto-Discord.
Vraxxar:
2020 Aug 23 08:36:02
*Grabs a camera to record what happens*
Nakobu:
2020 Aug 22 15:24:43
*prods shoutbox*
Razaron:
2020 Jun 16 09:34:12
<dances>
Vraxxar:
2020 Jun 05 12:32:27
Swedish Pagans?
Kozgugore:
2020 Jun 01 08:45:09
You're invoking the wrong gods in this place!
Vraxxar:
2020 May 27 12:17:33
Shout at the devil!
Vraxxar:
2020 May 27 12:16:36
Rawr!
Targoth.:
2020 May 17 17:42:06
More shouting! also...how is everyone!
Rashka:
2020 May 07 23:24:03
*Pats Claws* We are happy you are.
Claws:
2020 May 07 18:26:57
Sorry but still here hiding
Vraxxar:
2020 May 04 14:08:37
Magor: Books for the Book God!
Vraxxar:
2020 May 04 14:08:22
Sharguul: Death for the Death God!
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Author Topic: What Comes After  (Read 1764 times)

Rhonya

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What Comes After
« on: September 21, 2021, 04:51:46 PM »
Rhonya’s eyes moved to gaze over the sleeping faces in the hut, one by one taking in their appearances, listening to their slow breathing. Her lips parted slightly into a small smile as she watched them all.
She had begun building a few smaller huts right next to the big one. Sukeenah already had her own tent, but the cubs were growing so fast, the hut was certainly rather crowded. It was hard work, but she did it gladly.
The clan had moved on without her once more, but this time it had been by her own choice to remain behind. They would be fine without her, she was sure. Even so, a soft sigh escaped Rhonya and she shifted to stand up and move outside, the light breeze playing a little with the long tunic she was wearing.
It was dark, but out in the Barrens the stars were always there to lighten the night sky, so she could see well enough. Rhonya didn’t go far, merely a dozen meters or so before she sat down on a fallen log at the edge of the harpy woods.
The clan had been her life for many years now. Orcs lost, loved, found again, lost even more… At times the pain was almost too much to bear, but she’d always managed. Now however…
There was no one left for her to care about. Besides the Chieftain, her bloodbrother, she wasn’t that close anymore with any of the Orcs. Oh, some of it was her own fault, the past years actually her having been scared to bond again, as most of the times those bonds were ever so painfully ripped apart once more in one way or another.
Right here, she had everything. Her mate, her children, both her own blood and not.
Her memories of those she had loved and lost. Her herb garden and the people out in the Barrens here that came to her hut often enough with hurts or problems that she could aid with. Maybe it was time to settle down entirely, dig in her roots and grow.
Rhonya would visit, of course. Razor Hill wasn’t that far away, and hopefully the clan would keep using it as their anchor point for some relaxation.
But her path in the clan was over. As much as it hurt her.
The soft breeze blew through her long, long black hair, almost like a warm, calming caress over her cheek. She wasn’t alone. The spirits were with her, and she knew they were with the clan as well.
They’d be alright.




Crashing through the undergrowth came two grey feet, followed by the soft padding of a number of paws. One flash of orange and black, another of a muddy golden brown on the other side.
Breathe in, breathe out. Thundering down the hill in a billowing cloud of earth and foliage slapping her in the face, came Kyrazha, followed in her wake by a large but slender wolf and an enormous tiger. She doubled over for a moment after reaching the bottom of the hill, catching her breath. There was a wide grin on her sweaty face though, an almost unnatural blue-ish glint in her eyes.
“Let’s take a break, guys. Just a short drink.” she said softly before seating herself near a bush. Timur curled up around her back, his head resting on her lap. Vesa however, disappeared into a nearby bush, the rustling of the leaves betraying he was moving further away. He’d be back, she knew.
Taking a swig from her waterskin, Kyrazha closed her eyes a short moment.

This is what we were born to do, Stalker. Our pack. Our hunt.

I know, Striker. It feels good. Like home. But the clan…

You mean your oaths. They might conflict. But you are what you are, and you can’t fight it forever.


Kyrazha exhaled through her nose, opening her eyes again. Was this what was meant with the curse of the Varog’gor? Had it finally caught up with her, after years of serving the Chieftain faithfully, protecting him, willing to give her life for him? It should feel like failure. Like she broke her oaths to him.
But for some reason, she only felt something welling in her chest. A need for freedom, a need to go. There was no room for guilt. Only the feeling of the pack nearby. Her daughter, knowing she was safe and close by. Her bloodbrother and sister, she'd always be able to find them if needed. It was good, like this. She was home.
Timur made a soft, rumbling noise, almost as if he agreed with her in his own way.




Focus. Open your eyes and see. Feel. Hear.
Meri opened her eyes and kept her calm. She was standing barefoot on cold, grey rock. Around her rose ancient walls in a dome, the roof missing. Mist was creeping in, but it didn’t bother her. Her eyes looked almost entirely white, giving her an otherworldly, creepy look. At that point, she almost looked like a spirit herself, clad in white, her skin the ever pale grey color, her white mass of curly hair like a halo around her head. Behind her was an imposing figure of a Draenei, clad in long, flowing robes. His shape moved with the mist however, making it very clear he wasn’t a fully corporeal being.
Yet, he was there and he was visible.
Meri looked around with the white eyes. Arkaan was behind her, his presence like a burning in her back, a shining light in the corner of her vision. There were others. She was pulling them here, calling on them, hopefully able to finally grand at least a few of them peace.
She’d been training the past months with Arkaan, after making her will known to Nakobu. Meri wanted to learn more from the Draenei spirit, and she was only able to do so here, in the ruins of Auchindoun.
At this point she was no use to the Clan either way. Too uncertain, not able enough in her ways to safely help them and the spirits they might run into. Never had she been a center piece and never would she want to be. Her place was at Nakobu’s side, the only one who truly knew her and loved her, despite her shortcomings and mistakes.
And that feeling was mutual.
Slowly they gathered around her, blocking her from sight of anyone that might linger nearby, the mists thickening in the center of the ruins.
She’d set them free, one by one, as was the duty she put upon herself. As was in the power Arkaan was entrusting her with.
Deathspeaker, Spiritspeaker, Soulwarden, Soulwalker, Lightuser, Pale one… It didn’t matter how they called her. Meri would learn. And she would help them. She would help Nakobu find his place, wherever that may be. She would stay with him, and all would be well.

The mist closed. All was silent, all was white, all was still.
"For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack."