The Epic of Thrak

[Tor varr]

A minor note before you read this story. First off, my knowledge of the geography of World of Warcraft is not great; so many places may be inaccurately described, or completely unnamed. The parts of the story in italics are the writings of an individual, though that individual may change throughout the story. Double quotations (“) are around what a person is saying out loud, while single quotations (‘) are around what a person is thinking. Finally, I did only learn English a few years ago, so please bear with me.

This story is rated PG-13 with a violence warning

Prologue

Tales are often told of the actions of others. Tales of men killing Orcs, Orcs killing men, and the vanquishing of evil. Some of these tales are never written down, though. They are forgotten, blown away from memory like grains of sand from a beach. Even less recorded and more easily forgotten are the tales that do not end with the vanquishing of evil. Tales of sadness and suffering with no end in sight are never told, never heard, never remembered.

I am of the Forsaken. My life is one of unending despair. I wish for death, but to take one’s own life would be against the laws given to us by Pata. I only ask that the God hears my pleas- give me one final battle, a great one. One worthy of song and memory, and welcome me into your house.

Also, and far more importantly, watch over my beloved. Keep her and my unborn child safe, Pata.

Thrak put those final words down and slid the volume back into his pocket. The words were faint from a lack of ink, but he had left his final message. He could only hope that whoever found his journal would use it well.

“Nothing is more important to an Orc then to be remembered, save for welcoming by Pata,” he said aloud, though he knew none would hear him. In the desert wastes of Kalimdor, very few people live, and none of them travel at night.

An itching sensation came from his chest. Reaching through his shattered ribcage, he pulled out the offending object. “Bloody carpet beetle,” he grunted, throwing the creature into the fire.

Fire. What a waste of wood, such a limited commodity in these parts. “I should have realized. The dead are always cold.”

He gazed upon his surroundings with his dulled vision, taking note of the empty liquor bottles on the ground. Were it not for the oppressing sadness that came with undeath, he would have laughed. “It is far too late for you to drown your sins and sorrows in ale,” he all but chuckled to himself. There was one bottle left, but he decided not to bother with it, sliding it back into the inner pocket of his frayed leather armour.

Lying back away from the dying embers, Thrak drifted off into thought. Thoughts of his unborn son or daughter; though a son to continue his line would be preferred.

‘How had it come to this,’ he thought. ‘There was a time when I was alive, a warrior, an Orc among Orcs. When Pata’s blessings smiled on me. And now, I am worse then dead; I am undead. I am scum amongst my own kindred, and no longer welcome in the home I vowed to defend with my life.’

And so, Thrak, the undead Orc lay back against a stump, and remembered how it all began.

***

Chapter 1

And Cudguel said, “My son is strong, but he shall never be stronger than I.” And so Cudguel raised his hammer to vanquish he of his flesh; but lo, Pata struck with his knife, and gullied his cruel father. As the blood of evil drenched the land, all life died, and the deserts of Draenor grew where once his fathers chosen people lived. And thus Pata chose his own people, and he said unto them, “You shall be thy chosen race. You shall seek true honour on the field of Battle. You shall be called a name that shall be known as meaning true warrior to the end of all days. You shall be called Orcs."

-The Legends of the Orcish Hordes, as transcribed by Henry Dumont of the 49th Guard


The city of Orgrimmar was the new home of the Orcs, and it was within these walls that Thrak was born.

He was born the son of a butcher. His father was everything that the humans believed the Orcs to be- large and strong, even by Orc standards, he was an abusive drunk, and loved nothing more then beating Thrak. Many a time, Thrak hid himself up in the attic, letting his bruises heal and his bones knit.

Thrak’s life was nightmarish. He could not understand what he had done to deserve such treatment. Even harder to understand was why his mother or brothers refused to aid him. ‘They have the power to end this. Why don’t they!?’ Though this thought echoed through his head, he would never voice it. It was too dangerous to show weakness in his house.

He trusted no one, save for his sisters. The one who was older then him was known as Griska, and the one that was younger then him was known as Sachi. They tended his wounds when he was injured, and snuck him food when he was locked in his closet. They sang him songs, and treated him like he was worth something.

Thrak knew he suffered badly, but when he learned of the nightmares his sisters lived, he was horrified. Griska had suffered from a far different kind of abuse from their father. It was appalling; he dared break the Divine Laws of Pata for his baser desires. And yet his mother and brothers did nothing.

“They are just as guilty as father, and you know that!” Thrak shouted. Griska let out a frustrated sigh. She had tried to defend their mother and brothers once again. She had tried to explain that they suffered as they did, and were as much the victims of their father’s abuses. It was hopeless, though.

“Mother can’t do anything to help us. She wants to, but she can’t!”

“Really? Does father beat her?”

“Thrak…”

“Answer the question.”

“Thrak, please…”

“Answer the Question!” Thrak’s fist slammed on the table, shattering one of the legs. ‘He has inherited father’s strength,’ Griska thought, ‘and his anger.’

“No, he doesn’t beat mother.” Griska hated giving in to her brother, but he would not be swayed. Tears swelled behind her grey eyes. Thrak regretted his anger, but he still intended to persuade her of the truth.

“Griska,” Thrak started, placing his hand upon her shoulder, “I know this is hard for you to accept. You want to have hope that they are innocent of these acts, and that they don’t save you because they can’t. But the truth is they can, but they don’t. We are on our own.”

A creak echoed from the doorway. Thrak looked up, expecting the worst, but was relieved to see it was only Sachi. Tears of terror filled her eyes. She did not know what there was to fear from their father, but she knew to be afraid. ‘She is so young,’ Thrak thought gloomily, ‘but Griska was that age when father began on her.’

Thrak waved his younger sister over. He knelt down to look her in the eye, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb, and said to her something she will never forget: “Sachi, listen to me. I swear that I will defend you from him, no matter what the cost.”

***

Before you read this chapter, I have brought in a currency system. International currency is quite simple; 100 coppers equal 1 brass, 100 brass equal 1 silver, 100 silvers equal 1 gold. Also, I will be using several terms such as ingots, marks, notes, and issics. These are going to be local terms for money, each equivalent to 1 gold coin. Dwarf money is much more specific. Each coin will have a title, such as 2/4 silver. This means that for every 2 parts impurities in a coin, there are four parts silver. 0/4 means that the coin is pure.

Also, you remember when I rated this story for its violence. Well, here it is. I must warn you, I watch a lot of CSI, so I went into the same level of description. This means that this next segment is extremely violent. If you don’t like violence, don’t read this. Although I would like to point out the fact that there is cannibalism in many of the undead stories.

So, you have decided to keep reading. Okay, but I did warn you.

Chapter 2

Throwing his warblade to the ground, the chief yelled “What is it Pata, that I have done to be refused entrance to eternity. I have slain many foes, I myself died on the field of battle. I have made sacrifices, and built new altars in your name. So what is it that I have done.” And lo, the sky darkened and thundered, the air grew thick, and the water to blood. And lo, Pata stepped down from the immortal sky, wrapped in great chains, and he spoke “You have dishonoured yourself, and so cannot enter eternity.” “What is it that I have done to encourage your wrath?” The chief said. Pata spoke with a voice that echoed thunder “You have known your daughter, and for that you are damned. Your soul shall wander Draenor for eternity. It shall rot while your spirit still lives. It shall be hunted by demons, and fed upon by wraiths.” The chief tried to save himself “But Pata, you have never told anyone this divine law, therefore, how can I be blamed for a crime I did not know I committed.” And lo, the words of the chief enraged Pata further. Draenor shook, mountains cracked into great canyons, rivers changed course, and the oceans boiled. Pata spoke in a voice that made the chief weep in fear and unholy despair “I should not have to tell you that such an act is wrong.”

-The Legends of the Orcish Horde as transcribed by Henry Dumont of the 49th Guard

Times were hard for the butcher shop. With his father selling inferior meats and swiping money from the till for rum, Thrak found it quite hard to keep business going. And it was these thoughts on his mind as he looked over the ledger.

‘Cost of beef is now at 28 issics from 14.’ Thrak shook his head. The drought had dried the river, leaving numerous herds without water. And now the price had doubled.

‘I can safely raise the price of beef to a half issic a cut. That would mean the profits would drop,’ Thrak reached for a long scroll on the edge of his old desk, ‘by 23%. Subtract the average weekly wastage,’ Thrak always referred to his father’s theft as wastage, ‘and we’ll be… over 100 issics in debt before the month is out.’

Thrak let out a soft string of swears, mostly against the Goblin beef merchants. Thrak had had to deal with being in debt before, but never to this extent. He was so deeply in thought that he didn’t even notice Griska until she spoke to him.

“It’s been done,” she said so softly that for a moment Thrak though he had imagined the voice. Turning to his sister, he saw the tears in her eyes. Thrak stood up, fear clutching his heart.

“Father went to Sachi.” Her breathing became ragged. “He…” She could say no more. Grabbing onto the door frame, she slid tearfully to the floor.

Thrak shook with anger. Grabbing the large cutting knife from the table, he went to walk out the door. Griska grabbed the cuff of his coat sleeve. “By Pata’s breath, what are you doing?”

“I promised Sachi I would protect her, and I failed.” Silent tears streamed down Thrak’s face. “To preserve my honour, I must end the life of the monster who did this to her.”

“Thrak, he’ll kill you!” Griska shouted. “You’re only 10 years of age, and not even half his height! Besides, you are only a boy. I’m sure Pata would forgive you.”

“But could I forgive myself?”

Thrak yanked back his arm, and stormed upstairs, leaving Griska in tears. ‘My sister is in a living nightmare, and now my brother goes to his death.’

Thrak found his father in the hallway, passed out from rum. Hatred unheard of echoed through Thrak. There was no hesitation on his part.

He ran the knife across his father’s throat, deep and straight. The spray struck Thrak, and the walls. A pool began to spread along the floor, and Thrak watched in grim satisfaction as his father’s eyes opened, and he realized he was drowning in his own blood.

As life left his father’s eyes, Thrak dropped the knife, and vomited on the floor. He heard a squeak echo from two sides. His sister, Griska stood at the top of the stairs, one hand over her mouth. The squeak from the other side was Sachi, bruised and beaten. Old tears, nearly dried clung to her face, and the same grim satisfaction decorated her face as well.

Thrak looked at both of them, and stood to his full height. Despite being five years younger then Griska, he towered over both of them. Griska’s eyes widened as she heard Thrak speak in a deep commanding voice she had never heard before:

“Pack lightly. We’re leaving.”

[Tor varr]

I was somewhat disappointed that my thread disappeared, because it had been labeled a "hot thread," but on the plus side, I managed to make some corrections that I couldn't have made before.

[Tor varr]

Chapter 3

Trolls are an inferior race. Their culture is limited and barbaric, their people are hideous, and their magics overrated. They are without honour, and without guile. So why do you bother me with such notions as the idea that trolls are the progenitors of elves? These creatures are worthy of nothing more then extinction.

- A letter to the head of the Archaeology department from Lord Ravenclaw of the 3rd Archery Brigade.

The steady sound of chopping filled the air, along with the scent of rotting fish, and the ceaseless screeching of sea birds. Standing on the wharf looking out over the water was a young troll. His hands had blistered from years of hard labour, and his back was so used to the hot sun that he never burned.

“Tor varr! Quit your lolly-gagging and get back to work. We have to get these fish barrelled and salted before the trade vessel gets here.” Tor varr quickly began to chop again. ‘Until the day I die,’ he though glumly, ‘I will never figure out how a blind tauren shaman knows when I’m not working.’

The Tauren he spoke of was indeed blind. His sight had been lost in the War of the Burning Legion. The stubborn old shaman would not let that slow him down, though. For Tor varr, the capabilities of this blind man were rather unnerving.

As he chopped the heads off of the days catch, Tor varr looked across the water. Cormorants dove for their feed of fish, while gulls searched the shores for unwatched pieces of food. Both had to be quick, because the cruel and persistent Frigate birds were always watching. Tor varr let out a deep sigh, and inhaled deeply. ‘What’s that?’

Sniffing a few more times, Tor varr definitely noticed something out there. ‘Orcs, two, no three of them. One has the perfume of an infant, so no more then five. The other has the musk of an adult. Fifteen at least. The other,’ Tor varr thought hard on this one, ‘is a male, between the other two in terms of age. He reeks of blood.’

“Tor varr, I told you quit slacking!” The shaman was up on his feet, feeling his way towards Tor varr.

“There are people out there. Three orcs, two female and one male.” Sniffing deeply, “They are hungry; I would say they haven’t eaten in about three days.”

The shaman sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything.” Tor varr wrinkled his nose in disgust. Nothing has a sense of smell like a troll, especially not a Tauren. ‘Unless it’s baking bread or fresh water, it might as well be invisible to them.’

Tor varr opened his mouth to speak, but the shaman beat him to the punch. “Go and see who our visitors are. Take a weapon. If they prove hostile, kill them.”

[Tor varr]

Chapter 3 Part 2

Thrak breathed deeply as he walked across the hot sands of the sea. He was tired, but knew that if anyone was worse off then him it would be Sachi. She had to take two strides to Thrak’s one. She was no doubt exhausted.

A growl came from Thrak’s empty stomach, but he ignored it. They had run out of food several days ago, and had been living on what wildlife Thrak could catch. Unfortunately, he hadn’t caught anything for a couple days. ‘Hunger, thirst and heat, all the while pursued by countless tormentors. This could not get much worse.’

“We should rest awhile, Thrak.” He looked over at Griska, who gestured towards Sachi. Nodding slightly, he pointed at a stand of trees. The three orcs made their way over to them, and lied down in the shade.

Sachi took the water sac and had a swallow. Looking at the sac, she said “There isn’t much water left.” Thrak had known their supplies were running low, and now they were nearly without water. He could almost have laughed. His people prided themselves on their great strength and durability when compared to another race like the humans, and yet these gifts were what were going to kill them. Because of their increased muscle mass, the increased thickness of the skin and their increased bone density, Orcs required a great deal more food and water then humans. ‘To think that our strengths will be our downfall.’

Thrak felt a hand hit his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Griska looking further south down the shore. “I can see smoke.” Thrak glanced in the direction she pointed, and saw the thin plumes. “I think we should go there, and restock our supplies.”

Thrak was a little more wary. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? We don’t know who they are, or what they will do to us. If we are recognized…”

“Oh, for Pata’s sake, Thrak,” Griska started “We haven’t seen a single Orc since we left Orgrimmar. I don’t think their following us.”

Thrak was not wholly convinced. Sachi spoke softly to him, “We have no food or water. Two more days of this, and we’ll be dead. Don’t worry Thrak, you can protect us.” Thrak smiled at her gentle words. Griska thought ‘Thrak is more a father to her then our birth father.’

After a few moments of wrestling with his thoughts, Thrak stood up. “Alright, we’ll go to this village to re-supply. But if there is even a hint of trouble, I want both of you to run, and don’t look back.” Sachi and Griska both nodded, and rose as well. As the three turned towards the village, a voice came from behind them:

“Loo marchi cun croo bask a?”

[Chells]

Nice work Tor varr. The writing is very clean. Not just from a grammaitcal/spelling stance but also clear sentence make-up leads to a very smooth read. I really like it.

I have even less suggestions for you, just one. I'd break up your asides to the audience as well as each chapter into its own post. You have the authors foreword, the prelude, chapter 1 and chapter 2 all in one post. It's not a big deal but going back to reread something is easier when reader has divisions between story and sidenotes (as well as chapters). Your chapters are pretty short so far so not really an isssue now but may become one down the road.

Please keep them coming :thumbsup:

[Tor varr]

Chapter 4

You speak so poorly of the trollish race that it is of little wonder that they distrust the elves so. Their magics have proven time and time again to be dangerous and powerful. Their culture is brilliant and vibrant, and in matters of guile, there are few who can exceed them. And so, I will not consider the opinions of a man of such unbridled bias and ignorance. To even listen to your opinions is a waste of my time and your limited intelligence.

- A letter to Lord Ravenclaw from Marcus Sorellius, Head of the Azerothian Archaeology department.

Tor varr ran towards the scent of the orcs until he felt he was getting close. Once their scent was strong enough, he dropped to his hands and feet, creeping silently through the brush. Not a twig broke or a leave rustled with his passing. Tor varr smiled, ‘I guess I haven’t lost my touch.’

He moved towards the orcs as quickly as stealth would allow. With each movement, he could hear his father’s words in his mind. ‘Keep yourself low and silent; let not a creature take notice of your passing. Keep the wind in your face, lest your prey catch your scent. Never sacrifice stealth for speed. What good does it do you to arrive at your prey that much more quickly only to have it aware of your presence and ready to defend itself?’

Of course, these orcs were not what you would call prey. Even so, his father’s words held truth in them. He did not know what these orcs wanted, or who they were. It would be wise to err on the side of caution.

Tor varr stopped short as the spear strapped to his back was caught in the brush. Cursing his negative fortune, he quickly untangled himself. Taking a sniff, he realized the orcs were very close; in fact, he could here the sand crunching beneath their feet. He held steady behind a rather thorny bush, intent on getting a better look at them. When at last his eyes fell upon them, he openly gasped.

Before him were three of the most pitiful looking orcs he had ever laid eyes on. All three were rather thin and gaunt, the male worst of all. The slack sacks on their backs stank of old food, and the way they rustled in the breeze was good evidence that they had emptied a long time ago.

He was definitely right about the eldest female. The heady musk of an adult wafted off her form. Tor varr smiled a little at this. Many of the other races often complained about the foul smell coming off the orcs bodies, and yet the orcs were rather attracted to them. The orcs denied the power these pheromones had over them, but it did not take an intellectual to notice that the orcs with the strongest musk were the most sought after by others of their kind.

He had also been right about the younger female’s age as well, but now was not so certain about the male. His nose told him he was between the two in age, but his eyes saw a far different picture. He was taller by at least a head then both females. He was broad in the shoulders, and his deep brown eyes spoke lifetimes of experience. Though his head never shifted position, his eyes constantly moved, always aware of his surroundings. It was his shirt that Tor varr found most interesting, though. It was stained with a great deal of blood. Sniffing, Tor varr sensed the blood of the male orc, a gnoll, various small animals of the ocean shore, and one final scent… definitely orcish, another male. With a shock, Tor varr realized that the similarities in scent were no small coincidence. ‘The orc is stained with the blood of a male relative.’

Each was clearly armed. The small girl had a knife strapped to her side, and the older female had a larger knife in her belt and a small one in her boot. The male was by far the most heavily armed, with at least four blades Tor varr could see, and Jaggoruth knew how many he couldn’t see. Despite all of this, what had made Tor varr gasp were the extensive injuries each bore.

They had all been savagely beaten. Both females bore old bruises still yellow on their faces, and the younger had a broken tusk. It was the male who seemed the worst off. His nose had clearly been broken many times over, and his jaw seemed a touch out of line with the rest of his head. He also bore many wicked scars, as well as what appeared to be a rather fresh Gnoll bite. His hands bore the many small cuts of one who has had a hard life, and his eyes clearly spoke to it. It was then that Tor varr heard the orcs speaking. He strained his ears to listen:

“Not marc luk tora, Thrak.” The eldest female spoke. The male nodded and pointed to a stand of trees. The three sat, and continued talking.

The younger female said “Net clut mok trin clomok drun.” Tor varr sat in puzzlement as now the eldest female spoke. “Mukka not maod cgun. Mek thuk louke chivak, sok chorum bac choor.”

Tor varr shook his head. ‘What an ugly and crude sounding language the orcs have.’ It was only know that Tor varr had a thought. ‘What if they don’t speak trollish?’ Tor varr did not know a word of orcish. ‘There are trolls in Orgrimmar. Surely the orcs had to learn some trollish.’ Even with this thought, Tor varr was still unsure of how to proceed. How could he talk to those he could not understand?

Tor varr now realized that the three orcs were rising. Cursing his lack of attention, he decided to risk talking to them. After all, the orcs and trolls were allies.

He crept out of his hiding place, still moving with his limbs sprawled out like a reptile until he was at last behind the three orcs. Standing to his full height, he asked “Who are you?”

Tor varr barely ducked to avoid the meat cleaver that came at his head.

[Tor varr]

Chapter 5

Why should we not kill them? They are our enemies, and Jaggoruth rewards those who kill their enemies.

- The troll captain Tol’jin when told by the Orc general Culuk not to slay the children and pregnant women in a village.


Tor varr drew the spear from his back. ‘Misunderstanding or not, I do not intend to die just yet.’ He did not even aim, for he heard the male and elder female arguing.

Spinning the male by the shoulder, she shouted, “Nek tull thur moka drub, Thrak!”

“Usaiga nugga thikmuk,” the male Orc shouted back. Tor varr may not have known Orcish, but he could easily figure out what argument was taking place. The female was angry that this male, Thrak unless he was mistaken, tried to kill him, and he was trying to justify his actions.

“Trimak kul mik thar!”

“Nug tol mar chiv, colo mask ak!”

“Nig vask!”

“Chorok bill karrak tull!” The female’s last remark seemed to have at last changed the male’s opinion of him. ‘Maybe now I can show him that I mean him no harm.’ Tor varr whistled to grab their attention. The three Orcs looked at him, and Tor varr drove the end of the spear into the sand, leaving him unarmed. “I mean you no harm. I am from the village up ahead, and was sent by the Shaman to see who you were. Now, please tell me at least one of you speaks Trollish.”

The three Orcs looked somewhat confused, but at last the elder female spoke up, “Me do.” The male and younger female both seemed a touch shocked that the elder female knew trollish, but Tor varr had a great deal of ground to cover before he could worry about that. “I’m glad at least one of you speaks trollish, because I don’t know a word of Orcish. My name is Tor varr. And you would be?”

“Me called Griska. Dis be me brother Thrak, and me sister Sachi.”

“You know, you should say I instead of me. It would make you sound more intelligent.”

The female seemed a little taken aback that a troll she had only met moments ago was correcting her grammar, but she did not say anything about it.

“Now that I know who you are, why don’t you tell me why you are here.”

“Me… I and me family left Orgrimmar some time ago. We need to refill our supplies.”

Tor varr felt that there was some significance attached to his next question: “Why did you leave Orgrimmar?”

The female’s eyes widened and she spoke in Orcish to the male. They both spoke so quickly that Tor varr could not catch a word. Even the younger female seemed unable to comprehend all that was being said.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Tor varr took a drink from his water sac. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he thought to himself. Leaving the two Orcs to argue about it, he went and sat down in the shade. ‘It is much too hot to stand in the blazing sun for hours on end. At least the chopping tables have a tarp over them.’

As he sat there, the younger female came over and sat next to him. Tor varr gave her a glance. She looked so innocent from afar, but her eyes spoke of past horrors, current nightmares, and an unshakable resilience. And yet, despite all she must have gone through, she still stared at him with the innate curiosity of all children. Tor varr decided to try and communicate with her, “Sachi?”

Giggling at his pronunciation of her name, she pointed at him and said “Ter varg.” Tor varr chuckled at that. Pointing at himself, he said “Tor varr.” The young Orc female spoke it slowly, “Torr varrr.” She was still a little too long with the rs, but she was closer then she was before. Tor varr tried to pronounce her name again and met with less success and a good deal of laughter. Two or three more tries later, he pronounced it to her satisfaction. Taking a deep drink from his water sac, he looked at the small girl. She looked thin before, but now that he was close enough, Tor varr realized that he could see her ribs through the holes in her shirt. He drew some jerky from his pocket and held it out to her.

She looked at the food in his hands, and then looked at him. ‘Talk about a lack of trust,’ Tor varr thought as he broke off and ate a piece to prove it wasn’t poisoned. Once she saw him swallow his mouthful, she snatched the food from his hand and tore into it. Tor varr was a bit surprised at this, but didn’t say anything. Before he could blink, she had eaten the entire amount of jerky. She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with gratitude. “Dat mukl far, Trr var.” He smiled once again, ‘we have a long way to go before she can pronounce my name.’

The sun was nearing the horizon, and the two elder Orcs kept arguing. ‘All right, I’ve had enough of this,’ Tor varr thought as he rose up. Walking over to them, he reached out and slapped them both. The two Orcs were taken aback by this, and simply looked at the troll.

“Okay, enough of this. We’ve been here for hours. Save for a mouthful of jerky, I haven’t eaten since sun rise. It’s very hot out, and unlike you Orcs I can’t sweat to cool off. Doubtless the shaman is wondering where we are, and if I don’t return soon, he’ll send out a search party, and trust me when I say they will be ready for a fight. If you don’t want to tell me why you left Orgrimmar, fine, don’t tell me. I really don’t care anymore, but I warn you, you will have to tell someone eventually. Now, are you going to come into the village, or not?”

The female seemed a touch stunned at his remarks, and translated this for the male. They talked back and forth quickly, and at last the female, Griska, said “We will come into the village.”

“Fine, then let’s go,” Tor varr said, grabbing his spear and walking towards the village.

[Tor varr]

Chapter 6, Part One

Speak the truth, or make your peace some other way.

- Sully Erna, a human vocalist

As they entered the village behind this strange troll, Thrak felt somewhat uneasy. True, this was what he had decided, but he had been hoping to keep a low profile inside the village. Entering in such a way drew a lot of stares from the local populace. Everywhere Thrak looked he saw trolls, Taurens and a couple of Orcs. The large dock on the water had a few warships moored in its harbour, a handful of fishing vessels and one very large trading vessel. He noticed the Troll leading the three of them towards the vessel.

As he got closer, Thrak could at last read its name. The ship was the Naga Beater. ‘Interesting name for a ship,’ Thrak thought. He at last saw that the troll was not taking them to the ship, but to the old Tauren by the ship. The creamy colouring of his eyes told Thrak that the man was blind. He heard him arguing with the captain of the ship over the price of the fish.

“Anything less then 4 ingots a barrel is an insult. The fish would not even be worth dragging out of the sea for anything less.”

The captain of the ship, an old weather beaten troll, said “Look mon, ja market be flooded wit da fishes, ookey. When dere be more product den demand, prices drop. If I pay joo 4 ingots a barrel, I would be broke in a month. Ja best I can do is to pay joo 2 ingots a barrel and not a coin more.”

“Make it 2 ingots and 50 silver, and you have yourself a deal.”

“Joo be deaf, mon,” the troll said. Thinking for a moment, the troll at last said “I can pay joo 2 ingots and 25 silver.”

“For the sake of our friendship, let’s make it 2 ingots and 30 silver.”

Shaking his head, the troll said “Remind me to no trade mounts wit joo, eh, Bloodback?” The two shook hands and the work began. The sailors began to unload the ship of textiles, spices, etc, and began to barter with the local merchants. At the same time, the fishermen began to load the barrels of salted fish, while two people kept count of the barrels.

The Tauren turned to Tor varr and his companions, and said “Are these the three Orcs you spoke of, Tor varr.” Thrak’s eyes widened; leaning close to Griska, he said “How did a blind man know that?” “I have no idea,” Griska admitted to her brother.

“Yes, these are the three Orcs that I scented earlier,” the troll said.

Turning towards him, Thrak said “Why didn’t you tell me you speak Tauren. I know that language.”

“To be honest, I never even thought that you would know the Tauren tongue,” the troll admitted.

“How come you don’t have an accent like the other trolls?” Thrak inquired.

“Because when I taught him my language, I trained him not to have an accent. Let me warn you, though, if he isn’t paying attention the accent will come out. It takes a conscious effort not to have the trollish accent,” The old shaman said. Looking right at Thrak with his cold, dead eyes, he said “Now who are you three?”

“My name is Thrak, and these are my sisters Griska and Sachi. We came from Orgrimmar, and our supplies have run out. We need food and rest before we are on our way.” Thrak tried to explain their predicament as best he could without leaving an opening for the question he feared. Of course, you can’t run forever.

“Why did you leave Orgrimmar?”

Cursing, Thrak turned to his sisters. Speaking in Orcish, he said “We have to decide what lie we’re going to tell them so our stories match.”

Griska seemed a touch cross. “Why don’t we just tell them the truth?” Nodding her head, Sachi agreed with Griska. “It would be easier in the long run, Thrak. I’m tired of running without a moments rest. I want a place to call home; I want friends. I want to live my life without fearing someone would learn the truth.”

“Am I the only one who realizes that the punishment for murder is hanging?! If we tell them the truth…”

“They will side with us. Our father was a bastard, a drunkard who deserved what was coming to him. Tell them, and they will understand.”

Thrak didn’t know Sachi knew those kinds of words. Before he could say anything, though, a deep Tauren voice spoke in Orcish “Tell me what?”

[arcamedes]

Wow....pretty good so far can't wait to see what's next.

[Tor varr]

Chapter 6, Part 2

Thrak swore loudly at those words. Turning to the Shaman, he said, “Why didn’t you tell me you speak Orcish?”

“Simple. I knew that you were hiding something, and the best way to figure out what was to let you think that you had something over me.” The shaman sounded a little smug about this, but Thrak had too many problems at this point to worry about that.

“All right, tell me what you have figured out.” Griska gave Thrak a sharp look at this broad attack, but Thrak really did not know what else to do. He had not been anticipating a man of such intelligence to know the Orcish language.

“You murdered your father,” the shaman bluntly said, his voice emotionless. ‘This is not going to go well,’ Thrak thought. “Now why don’t you tell me why you killed him?”

Thrak was thinking as fast as he could. Lies untold passed through his mind, but there was no point in lying anymore. ‘This old Tauren has already learned half the truth. He might as well know the rest.’

And so, Thrak told him the truth. He told him of the lifetime of abuses, the cruel drunkenness, and the final breath his father took. The sun had nearly set by the time he was finished, and Griska’s eyes had swelled with tears. Sachi was not tearful, but then again, she did not speak Tauren.

“That is a rather ghastly tale you have told me,” the shaman said. He gave a curt nod, and Thrak felt two pairs of powerful hands grab his wrists. Before he could blink, the two Tauren warriors behind him clapped his hands in irons. Thrak, confused and angry, struggled against the Taurens. He cracked his fist into one Tauren’s nose and head butted the other in the stomach. Suddenly, he felt the wind itself knock him to the ground. He looked up what little he could, and saw the Shaman standing before him, having cast a wind totem.

“Do not take me for a blind fool, Thrak,” the shaman said with an air of menace in his voice. “You are indeed strong, even by the standards of your own people. But I am stronger still. There are only a few who know my name, and I will tell it to you now. I am Bloodback. I fought in the War of the Burning Legion. I have been shot, kicked, stabbed, burned, and beaten. I suffered a painful spell that stole away my sight, and it still aches to this day. And I’m still standing.”

Thrak knew who he was once he heard the name. ‘That troll captain said it before, how did I miss that?’ he wondered. He had heard the stories of Bloodback. It was not his true name, but it was the only one he was known by. He got the name when he was temporarily a captive of the Legion’s agents, the mortal scum who forsake their own kindred for the promise of power and survival. When he was rescued, his back had not a piece of flesh left unbled on it. And yet, he had not cracked under their cruel torture, and went to serve the Horde’s armies during the war. Many tales exist at this point, and doubtless most were false. Some had to be true, though, and he was now facing the man these tales were told about.

The old shaman continued, “You think you’re hard, Thrak. Well I’m harder. You think you’re mean, I’m meaner. You will do as I say, or trust me, you will live to regret it. Do we have an understanding?” Thrak nodded, and the pressure on his body eased enough for him to stand up. Griska had her arms wrapped around a very terrified looking Sachi.

“Remember Thrak, I have faced creatures far more powerful and terrible then you can ever dream of, and lived to tell the tale. Do not think you can either frighten or defeat me.” Thrak looked to the two guards that once again took his wrists. One was slightly hunched over; while the other held back a torrent of blood with his one hand. They started to drag him away when the shaman spoke again.

“One question, Thrak,” The shaman’s dead eyes stared so intently down at Thrak he felt a small shudder of fear pass through his body. “How old are you?”

“Old?”

“I mean, how many years have you lived.”

“Ten.” With that, Thrak was dragged away by his Tauren guards. The Shaman looked down at Tor varr, giving the troll a bit of a start. “A ten year old Orc managed to beat two Tauren warriors to the ground?”

“It would look that way, shaman.”

“Intriguing.”

[Grubblies]

Well I didn't see THAT twist in events coming :p

Great storytelling, more more more!!!

[Tor varr]

Thanks for the compliment.

Sorry for the delay with the next chapter; I just returned from a fishing trip. The biggest thing I caught was my bait.

[Tor varr]

First off, sorry for the delay with chapter seven. I had a summer course to complete. Secondly, in my story I’m assuming the peace between the Alliance and the Horde has held; although it is a very tentative peace to say the least. The reason I chose to do this is simply that I can’t buy that only four years after facing the most dangerous enemy to ever exist, the former allies would turn on each other.

Chapter 7

What’s happening?
- A blind Orc warrior to a blind Human soldier at the Battle of Mount Hyjal.

Griska watched helpless as Thrak was taken away. Sachi gripped her hands so tightly that she could barely feel her fingers. Griska had had to learn to be strong, but seeing her brother dragged away was too much to bear. Leaving Sachi’s side, she walked up to Bloodback, and reached back to punch him in the face.

Before her fist even made contact, the great Tauren’s hand shot out and caught her fist, twisting it harshly and dropping Griska to her knees. He looked down at her, and said “I will let you rise if you don’t attempt to lay another hand on me. Agreed?” Nodding her head, Griska said “Alright,” and was allowed to get up.

“Well,” the shaman spoke, clearly waiting for her to say something. After a moments silence, Griska screamed at him “How could you have Thrak hauled off to a cell like that!?”

“He admitted to murder,” the shaman said, “Though I can assure you that I take no pleasure in this.”

“You had me fooled,” Griska was not willing to let up on the shaman. “We told you everything about our past. You know fully well what our father did to us, and yet you’re still are going to punish Thrak for doing what was right?”

Bloodback looked her straight in the eyes, sending small shudders through her body, before he answered. “The punishment has yet to be decided. I will consult with the spirits who once walked this plane, and they will either confirm or refute your brother’s story. Then he will be judged accordingly.”

Griska thought about what the blind Tauren said. If he was truthful, then the spirits would confirm their story, and Thrak would be given a light punishment. If he was lying… Griska decided not to think to hard on that idea. ‘Besides,’ she thought while stealing a glance at Sachi, ‘Sachi has already lost Thrak. She cannot afford to lose me.’

“Alright,” Griska said with a hint of steel to her voice, “I will let you carry out your tribunal. Thrak is innocent, and the spirits will confirm that.”

“I’m glad you are as smart as you sound,” Bloodback said, a small smile crossing his scarred features. “Tor varr.”

The young troll, who had been sitting on the ground, stood up. “Yes, shaman?”

“I will discharge our two female guests into your custody,” Griska did not like the word custody but remained silent. “You will be responsible for them. Is that understood?”

“Yes, shaman.”

“Excellent; now if I might be allowed to return home, I have to prepare.”

Without another word, Bloodback turned away from the two Orcs and the Troll, and made his way back into the heart of the small city.

***

Tor varr turned to the two female Orcs, his very unhappy stomach growling incessantly. “If you two will please follow me,” he said, turning towards his home. A few words of Orcish and the two females followed him. He knew they would; 'after all, I’m the only one they know'.

He might have called it a village, but it was clear that the settlement was in fact a small city. Though night was falling, many ships were still moored in the harbour; walking along the wharf side streets, Griska asked him “What city is this?”

“They call it the city of Grom,” Tor varr explained, “after Grom Hellscream. It was originally a military settlement, but with the treaty between the alliance and the Horde following the Burning Legion’s invasion, it became a civilian city.

“They discovered highly productive fishing grounds just off the coast, drawing in hundreds of fisherman very quickly. It’s now evolving into a central part of the Horde’s trading. Merchant vessels come here every week, and caravans from the mainland seem to arrive almost as often.”

Tor varr turned up one of the side street leading away from the wharf. The narrow street was clogged with all sorts of people. Griska was shocked to see several members of the alliance races, including a small party of dwarves, a set of humans, and one very disgusted looking elf.

“There are alliance races in the city,” she said to Tor varr. Tor varr looked a touch confused at the sound of concern in her voice. “Of course there is alliance within the city. I already told you we do a lot of trading through here.”

Griska wanted to pursue the matter more thoroughly, but the streets were so crowded and Tor varr showed no sign of slowing down. Even keeping a hold of Sachi’s hand was proving difficult.

The troll turned down another side street, this one nearly deserted of traffic. “Check your wallets, and make sure you still have them. Pick pocketing is more common around here then flies.” At these words, Griska felt in her pocket, relieved to find her coins still there.

This street was a far cry from the first road they had taken. The first had been mostly shops and inns, as well as a few brothels. Wide windows had opened up at the ground level and many of the doors were propped open. Here, though, the street was devoid of all but the barest traffic. All the windows were smaller, some slotted to prevent entry, and others left in the second floor. This was clearly a line of houses that the locals lived in.

After taking a quick drink from a small fountain mounted in the wall, the three continued until at long last Tor varr said “We’re here.”

Griska translated from Trollish to Orcish for Sachi and she breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a tiring walk, uphill and against the flow of the populace the entire way. Tor varr drew a key from around his neck, and twisted it in the large lock on his door.

“Welcome to my home,” the troll said with a flourish. The two Orcs stepped inside. The home was rather plainly decorated; some tapestries in a style Griska could only assume were Trollish decorated the walls, displaying scenes of the hunt. A large, crude table stood in the center of the room, with what few dishes the troll owned already upon it.

Three chairs, two of plain wood and one with a small red cushion sat in the room, arranged around the table. The lone couch, also with a red cushion, leaned against the wall with the door. A small fireplace stood against one wall, the wood box beside it full near to overflowing; a large gun sat atop the mantle.

“It’s not much, but its home,” Tor varr said. “There are two bedrooms, just up the stairs by the fireplace. The bed with two pillows is yours.” The troll moved into the room, taking wood from the wood box, and starting a fire. Once the fire was crackling merrily, he lifted the edge of a small rug on the floor, revealing the entrance to his pantry. Opening it up, he started to remove various ingredients. “I hope you two like chicken and sausage Gumbo, because that’s what we’re having.”

“Don’t worry; I’m so hungry at this point I could eat a rat.” “Well you’re in luck,” Tor varr said as he tossed a live rat from his pantry at Griska. He had expected her to scream (and give him a cheap laugh) but instead she threw a knife and impaled the now dead rat on the wall only a few inches from Tor varr’s face. Tor varr looked at her shocked, “Where did you learn to do that?”

Griska merely shrugged, “I had a lot of time on my hands when I was younger.” The troll continued to make his dinner. Soon, the pleasant aroma of a rather spicy gumbo filled the small house. While the two of them worked on the gumbo, they talked.

Griska started by asking “Is Bloodback really blind?”

Tor varr smiled a little and said “I really don’t know anymore. I was sure he was when I first moved here, but after today, I just have no idea.”

Griska started chopping up the sausage, while Tor varr sprinkled some more spices into the chicken broth. She saw the gun on the mantle, and said “Why did you come armed with a spear when you own a rifle?”

“Come on, you saw how long it took for us to get here in night time traffic. By the time I would have gotten the gun, you three would have already passed through.”

“Another thing, Tor varr; how did you know we were coming?”

Tor varr simply shrugged “I smelled you coming.”

Griska simply looked at him and said “What?”

“I smelled you,” Tor varr rolled his eyes. “Everyone doubts a troll’s sense of smell. I smelt the air, and the scent of you three was on it. It’s that plain and simple.”

The sausage done, Griska slid it into the pot, and started on some peppers. Tor varr chopped a couple of mushrooms up and put them in. Griska couldn’t help but ask this question.

“Do I really smell that bad?”

“No, I thought it was rather nice,” Tor varr answered without a thought. Looking up, he realized that Griska was staring right at him. “That’s not what I meant. I meant to say yes. No, wait, I mean… Damn.” Griska was laughing by now, holding a hand over her mouth.

Tor varr tried to answer without screwing up this time. “Orc bodies produce pheromones. Most people simply call it musk, and most races seem to find the scent offensive. Especially elves,” he added, both of them remembering the offended looking elf in the street. “The stronger the musk, the more attractive that Orc appears to members of the opposite gender. The musk itself does not appear until the Orc in question hits puberty; about 15 years of age.”

Griska could not help but be impressed by the level of information that the troll had simply with one sniff. Griska asked the question that had been bothering her since the three had arrived at his house.

“What’s going to happen to Thrak?”

Tor varr looked up from his onion. “If he told the truth, the spirits will confirm that fact, and he’ll get off with five lashes.”

“What!?”

“Keep your voice down,” Tor varr hissed at her, pointing behind her. Griska looked to see Sachi sleeping peacefully on the cushioned couch, Tor varr’s jacket being used as a blanket. ‘In all that has happened, I forgot about Sachi.’

She looked back at Tor varr, leaving Sachi to her dreams. “Why should Thrak get five lashes? He did nothing wrong.”

“Actually, he did. He took a man’s life, which is illegal according to Horde law.” Although each race had entered the horde with their own judicial system, the races had decided they required a unified judicial system. One part of the treaty with the alliance also stated that regardless of race, when on horde land, you’re subject to horde law, and vice versa. “The laws state that the punishment for such an act is death, unless it was provoked. This is a very large grey area that your brother is now in.”

Griska huffed a little. “I still don’t think it’s fair.”

“Five lashes or hanging. Which would you pick?”

Griska didn’t want to say it, but the troll was right. Thrak had recovered rather quickly from far worse then five lashes; in the end he would be fine.

“I would also tell your brother this; only the first time is a murder provoked. Even if he was justified in taking a man’s life the second time, he would be executed regardless.”

Griska snorted a little. “All this violence to maintain the peace.” Griska clearly thought that the horde laws were too harsh, but Tor varr understood why they had been made in such a way. If they had been left death unless provoked, murder would be a far more common crime then it is. Still, Tor varr did think it was a bit harsh.

The gumbo now done, he poured three large bowls full of gumbo, and placed them on the table. Tor varr only owned two spoons, though, so he and Griska decided to eat first, then wake Sachi up. Taking a sip of Trollish rum, he looked at Griska. “I understand that a lot has happened to you in a very short time. For now, just relax and sleep tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the tribunal; not that I think I could stop you even if I didn’t take you.”

Griska smiled; the gumbo was good, and Tor varr was quite kind. ‘It’s also very easy to get under his skin,’ Griska thought, a wicked little grin crossing her face. Looking at Tor varr, she said “Tell me. You said most races are offended by the Orcish musk. Am I to understand that trolls aren’t?”

The look that crossed Tor varr’s face was priceless, and Griska couldn’t help but laugh so loud as to wake Sachi.

[Tor varr]

Chapter 8

What Orc hasn’t seen the inside of a jail cell at one time or another? They are a race of criminals and murders- the only difference between their soldiers and the general populace is that the soldiers are allowed and paid to kill.
- Admiral Proudmoore, from an anonymous source from the second war.

‘Well, this is going to be a long night.’

That thought had echoed through Thrak’s brain the moment he laid eyes on the prison. It was an ugly, crude building; its bricks, once red, had greyed with the passing of time. The old copper roof had turned green, and was now cracked and sagged in many places. Even from this distance, the smell was appalling. A vile mix of blood, vomit, and what he really hoped wasn’t dung came from the building. What truly was frightening about the smell was that he was up wind.

His two Tauren guards were in rather foul moods. They rather roughly shoved people out of their way, and it wasn’t too long before the populace just parted to make room for the guards and their captive. Thrak knew exactly why the Tauren’s were angry, and decided just not to make life anymore difficult for them now.

Entering the heavy Iron Gate of the prison, Thrak was shoved inside the first unoccupied cell. The doors were small in terms of height. For an inmate to enter or exit the cell, he would have to crawl. It certainly would have made escape more difficult if that was Thrak’s plan.

“I hope you enjoy your room for the night,” one of the guards gloated. “We always go out of our way to make our special guests feel welcome.” The large Tauren had started to laugh when a hand hit his stomach. It had been a light blow, but combined with the bruise Thrak had left earlier, it was enough to leave the Tauren gasping.

The owner of the hand turned to Thrak. It was an older Orc; where his left eye should have been were four large scar lines. A slight leak of some vile yellowish pus came from where his left eye should have been. His left tusk was torn badly, and his left ear was nearly gone. Whatever had taken a swipe at him had made it count.

The Orc looked from Thrak to the gasping Tauren before him. “You know the rules of my house. Inmates talk to inmates, guards talk to guards, and once night falls, everyone shuts up.” It was at this time one of the inmates spoke.

“You know what I think fellas? I think our kind warden ought to lead by example, and shut the …”

The inmate never finished his sentence. A massive crack echoed through the small stone building, and the wiry thief fell to the ground, clutching his mouth. He let out a cough, and blood slipped through his fingers, and at least three teeth hit the floor. The warden was rolling up his whip. The inmate looked as if he wanted to say something, but a quick gesture from the warden silenced him before he even began.

“The second rule is I can be a hypocrite if I want too,” the warden said, earning a quick chuckle from the guards. “You two can go now,” he said, dismissing the two very angry Taurens. He looked at Thrak with his one good eye. Thrak stared right into that opening, because he did not want to look into the putrid sore.

The warden at last said “You’ve got guts boy, but you got no brains.” He drew what appeared to be a very old riding crop; if Thrak remembered correctly, the human nobility would use them to beat their horses into going where they wanted them to go. The warden stuck it under Thrak’s chin, forcing it up. Thrak never broke eye contact. “Like I said boy,” the warden started, “no brains.” Before Thrak could blink, the warden had cracked the crop across his face, leaving a very sore bruise. The warden turned and stomped up the rotten stairs to his office. “Get back to work, you scum!” he shouted before slamming his door.

“Ya be lucky, boy,” an old troll guard whispered so as not to be heard by his boss. “Norm’lly he be breakin the skin.” The guard left Thrak alone with his thoughts.

He turned to his cell. The ceiling was about 12 feet high, so it could accommodate Tauren’s, as well as whatever other race was shoved in here. A small pile of straw in the corner served as his bed. Even from this distance, Thrak could tell there were lice in it. A clunk from the door drew his attention. A fat cook had dropped down a plate with a rather foul smelling lump of grey through the narrow slot under his door. A glass of water rested near the food substitute.

The cook left without a word, and Thrak ate his meagre dinner as quickly as possible so as not to taste it. The water wasn’t much better, but he managed to down both.

With nothing left to do, Thrak laid down on his smelly, lice infested straw. ‘First thing I’m doing when I’m free is visiting the local baths,’ he thought as he laid down for what would be described as the most miserable night’s sleep he ever had.

[Mysticknight]

*rubbs eyes*

wow, this is really good.

[Gyoza]

very impressive.

great storyline. good clarity. very nice vocabulary.

great grammar for the most part... I can only point out two errors as far as that goes and they are very common mistakes even by native speakers.

look up the definitions of "then" and "than" as well as "to" and "too"

also, you don't need a comma before the word "and" any more. It was once grammatically correct, but no longer...

hope that helps a bit, because other than that, pretty damn perfect... better than the vast majority of native speakers could do as far as grammar, sentence structure and word choice.... and your ability to tell a story is clearly superior... lots of talent.


definitely looking forward to more of the story.

if i may ask, what is your first language?

[Tor varr]

My first language was French.

Actually, it is rather funny. One of my friends once made a joke that you could recognize a non-native speaker by the fact they know the language too well. I guess he was right.

[Mysticknight]

My first language was French.

Actually, it is rather funny. One of my friends once made a joke that you could recognize a non-native speaker by the fact they know the language too well. I guess he was right.
Way to true! lol, it's actualy kinda sad in some ways, but mostly it's just kinda cool.

[Tor varr]

Chapter 9

The gallows is a common sight in many Orc settlements. The process of hanging is a rather simple one- the convicted inmate is led up to a platform, where a noose made of rope is fitted around his neck. Then the platform is opened; if the inmate is lucky, the length of the rope will properly jerk his neck, and break it. This will kill him cleanly. If he is unfortunate, the rope will not break his neck; he will instead strangle to death, a process which can take hours if it is a bad noose. The Orcish hanging practice may seem rather barbaric, especially considering that all of this is viewed in a large public square, but it is a vast improvement over previous execution practices. At the very least, it is easier to observe then beheading.

- The human ambassador to Orgrimmar in a letter to the head of the diplomatic offices.

A grey dawn rose over the quiet city streets. This early in the day, few people wandered the streets; those who did were not the kind of people you wanted to meet. Most houses were quiet, save for one.

“Would you calm down, Griska? The tribunal is not at least for another hour.” Tor varr was the picture of exhausted. Though he had slept well last night, he had been interrupted once when Sachi’s piercing scream echoed through the house. According to Griska, she had had a nightmare. Not an hour later, the local police had shown up to investigate the disturbance. And to top all of that off, Griska decided they needed to get up early for the tribunal. All of this led to one tired and rather grumpy troll.

“I just don’t want to be late, alright?” Griska seemed somewhat irritated with Tor varr, though he did not know why. He crunched down on his breakfast- bacon and eggs, with strong human coffee to boot. He knew a lot of trolls did not care for the bitter drink, but Tor varr could care less. ‘At the very least, it helps me wake up in the morning,’ he thought to himself.

Sachi ate her breakfast silently. With the two of them speaking a language she did not understand, it wasn’t like she had much ability to add to the conversation.

“Look, I just think you could have let me get another hour of sleep. Yesterday was a big day for both of us.” Tor varr thought about this for a minute. “Come to think of it, you should have been down right exhausted. You were on the trail for at least two weeks, without food the last couple of days, moving at breakneck speed from dawn until dusk. By Jaggoruth’s tusks, how are you not still comatose upstairs?”

“I have more important things to do then sleep.”

“You mean like show up an hour early for a tribunal?”

Griska shot him a glare that would have melted ice, but the troll was in too foul a mood to back down that easily. Silence and tension filled the room in the moment, but then a little voice spoke.

“Bacon and eggs.”

Tor varr and Griska both looked wide eyed at Sachi. It was not that the sentence was an especially complex one, but it had been in flawless trollish.

“Sachi, since when do you speak trollish?” Tor varr asked the small child.

She looked back at Tor varr and said, “More bacon and eggs for me?” She held out her plate to illustrate her point. Griska spoke to Sachi in Orcish.

“Not marku sigo mek?”

“Yu nessa mugga thaia.”

Tor varr asked Griska “What did she say?”

“She said that she listened to you and me talking in trollish, and started to make sense of some words.” To say Griska looked amazed and impressed by Sachi’s newfound ability would have been an understatement. Both were quite clearly shocked silent by this revelation.

Tor varr gave Sachi another egg and a few more strips of bacon, and then poured himself and Griska some more coffee. He watched Sachi wolf down the plate of food in front of her; once she was done, she once again held out the plate. Tor varr was a little wide eyed to say the least.

“How can she eat so much?”

Griska simply shrugged, “She’s a growing child.”

“This is breaking the laws of science, magic and faith all in one go,” Tor varr said as he placed another egg on Sachi’s plate. “Griska could you please tell her that’s it. If we keep this up, the walking stomach here will clean out my pantry.”

Griska passed along Tor varr’s message. Sachi ate her last egg, looking a little forlorn. Tor varr spotted off his breakfast, and took a glance outside the window. A tall obelisk stood in the center of the city. Years of practice allowed Tor varr to get a fairly accurate sense of time from where the sun was on the obelisk. “The tribunal will be starting in around two hours,” he said with very little joy in his voice.

“Oh good; I was hoping that Sachi and I might have time to visit the baths before the tribunal.” That statement caught Tor varr off guard.

“Time for a bath? You dragged me out of my very warm bed this early so that you could visit the local baths?”

“Also, we need some new clothing,” Griska added a little hesitantly. Tor varr had a look on his face like he had just been smacked by a frying pan. Griska added quickly “We don’t need any money, if that’s what you’re worried about. We have our own.” To illustrate her point, Griska held up a small coin purse.

‘Unbelievable,’ Tor varr thought as his mind raced trying to find an answer he could give that wouldn’t blow up in his face. ‘Well, we do have time to kill before the tribunal. And I have been meaning to have my rifle cleaned and to purchase some more bullets.’

“Alright, fine, I’ll take you to the baths. I need to buy a few things anyway.” Taking his rifle off the mantle, he slid it into its carrying case and made for the door.

He looked back at the two Orcs. Tor varr shook his head and thought ‘Why do I have this feeling that it’s going to be a very long day?’


As the time for the tribunal neared, the three companions made their way to the courthouse. Sachi was dressed in a new white tunic and a pair of leather soled sandals. Griska was in a much more traditional outfit. Both showed the clear signs of having recently bathed.

Tor varr was in a decent mood. His rifle was cleaned, he had ammo for it and he was still dog tired. He was also in an argument with Griska.

“I still don’t see why you didn’t come into the bath with us?”

“I didn’t want to; isn’t that enough?”

“Look, would you please just tell me why you didn’t come in?”

“I’m just not as comfortable as you Orcs are with nudity.”

“You do know that they separate the men and the women, right?”

“Yes, but that still doesn’t make much of a difference to me. I do not want to see a bunch of naked Orc males, alright?”

Griska rolled her eyes, but decided to drop the subject. The three entered the courthouse and took seats near the front. The place was practically deserted, making Griska ask “Where is everybody?”

Tor varr shrugged “Generally, only those who know the person show up for his trial. That pretty much leaves the three of us.”

About ten minutes later, the large doors in the side of the building opened. His hands clapped in irons, Thrak was led to the large podium in the center of the courthouse, where his hands were attached so he could not flee. A few moments later, the side doors opened again. Bloodback strode through the doors, and took his seat in the center of the semi circled table. To his left sat a Tauren druid, a trollish priest, and Orcish shaman. To his right sat a trollish shaman, a tauren shaman, and another Orc. Tor varr recognised him as the warden of the local prison.

Bloodback spoke rather bluntly “You’re free to go.”

‘Well, that was fast,’ Thrak thought. He waited for someone to undo his irons, but no one moved. He looked up at Bloodback; his cold, dead eyes still looking him over. “I am sorry Thrak. You have told the truth about why you murdered your father, but Horde law says that you still must be punished for killing him. The penalty is five lashes.”

Thrak was somewhat surprised, but five lashes was nothing compared to what he grew up with. He simply said “Just finish it.”

Bloodback gave a nod, and the warden stood up, unveiling the whip at his side. “No offence, boy,” he said in his strange accent, “Just doing my job.”

The whipped cracked, again and again. The five lashes were over and done with quickly. Sachi had buried her head into Griska’s arms, while Tor varr remained motionless and expressionless. Once the punishment was done, the two Orcs ran to Thrak’s side.

The tribunal council stood up and left the room. Bloodback stayed behind for a moment, and listened to Thrak rising to his feet. He spoke so softly that no one could have heard him.

“I truly am sorry, Thrak.”

[Niderin]

My first language was French.

Actually, it is rather funny. One of my friends once made a joke that you could recognize a non-native speaker by the fact they know the language too well. I guess he was right.

You know the only down side to being American is that you dont really learn a secound laguage. IN the south like in Texas we will learn spanish but we dont get enought practice for it to make a difference.

[Niderin]

Holy crap excuse my launguage but you wrote this more than a year ago when are you gona finish this story man im always reading if you need a reader

[Gyoza]

You know the only down side to being American is that you dont really learn a secound laguage. IN the south like in Texas we will learn spanish but we dont get enought practice for it to make a difference.


I dont think this is true at all... just like the French, Americans have to make the effort to learn another language. They just don't.

Canadians, Swiss, etc...they grow up with it, but everyone else pretty much has to learn other languages thru classes etc.

For instance, I am American and I speak 4 languages... English, Russian, Spanish and (kinda crap, but ok enough) Japanese... I made the effort to learn.

You can too... I promise

[MoonSage]

It's been a while since anyone's posted here, but I wanted to tell you how much I adored your story. Best fan fiction I ever read. You don't mind if I make a copy and keep it, do you? Given the time lapse, you have probably lost interest in providing us with further installments. This is a shame, of course, but even so, thank you for writing as much as you did. If you ever write anything ever again, please let me know!

[Tor varr]

Okay, I'm getting a few things straight right now.

First off, I only started this story in early spring, probably July. I don't know what's currently with the date, but I assure you I haven't been writing it that long.

Also, I haven't lost interest with the story. I'm also writing fan fiction on another site, as well as taking my University courses. I'm afraid that the gaps between installments are going to be irregular, and probably long.

There is only one thing I hate, and that is people who start something and never, ever finish. I will finish this story, but its going to take some time.

I am happy that I have passed 1,000 views, and I still desire your opinions. All I ask is that you relax; I'll update it when I can, but no sooner.

[Niderin]

k I thought you had dropped the story compltely and it would of been horriable if you didnt finish it

[Pimpernil]

If you don't mind sharing, what is the url of the other site where you are posting fan fiction? I would like to read more of your writing as I have really enjoyed this story.

[Tor varr]

Well, here's my first chapter in a while. I apologize for the ungodly delay. I wasn't kidding about my work load. One of the requirements for my degree is a second language, and because I was raised on the French one I can't retake it. So, I chose to do Russian. It's an interesting class, but it has a fair sized work load.

Actually, I was once told that you could get a copy of the story with a button somwhere in the site, but I have never found it.

The other site I'm working on is fanfiction.net, unless I'm mistaken. My pen name there is DuffKilliganFan. I unfortunately only have one story going there as well; the other sites I used to have accounts on periodically delete the old stories and unused accounts, so that is the only one that is still around. Still, enjoy what there is, and keep on writing.

Chapter 10

Why would I worry about such a minor injury? I just continue with my life.

- A one armed Orc warrior talking to a human soldier

Tor varr made his way over to the three Orcs, and was surprised when Thrak stood up as if nothing had happened. His eyes widened; the Orc’s back had five long, deep cuts, and yet he moved as if they weren’t even there.

“Doesn’t that hurt at all?” Tor varr asked the young Orc. Thrak simply shrugged and said “I’ve been through worse.”

“We should get a priest to fix you up,” Griska said, but Tor varr shook his head. “Sorry Griska, but a priest is required by law not to fix injuries caused through corporal punishment.”

“Look, can we just leave this place? I want to have some memories of the city without punishment being involved,” Thrak said.

The four left the courthouse, Sachi glued to Thrak’s side. Tor varr watched the small child. She seemed less like a sister to Thrak, and more like a daughter. Everything about the two screamed parent/child relationship; from the way Sachi spoke to him, to Thrak always keeping his eyes on her, it was clearly a parental role that her brother was taking.

The two Orcs walked ahead, leaving Tor varr walking beside Griska. The two of them began talking.

“So,” started Tor varr, “What are you three going to do now?”

Griska shrugged, “I don’t know. We’re no longer wanted by the law; we can settle down somewhere. I really don’t know what we can do.”

“I’m afraid that staying at my place isn’t going to work out. I only have the two rooms, and you saw how small the beds were.”

“We’ll need jobs; the money we brought with us isn’t going to hold out forever.”

Griska, remembering at this point what Tor varr had said about pickpockets, checked her pocket. The money was still there, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

With little warning, save for a small sign, they entered a large square. Griska let out an audible gasp; the square was massive. A perfect circle, flanked on all sides by temples; a large fountain in the centre of the yard splashed cool, clear water into its basin. As she gazed upon the temples, she could see ones for Jaggoruth, Pata, and the Earth Mother. What truly shocked her was the Church of Light; a human faith, she realized, and she could even see human priests in front of the church.

“What is this place?” she asked.

Tor varr smiled, “The locals call it Cathedral Square. When a fire ravaged Grom, a lot of people believed that it was due to the city not having any real religious sites. And so, the city governor spent goodly sums of money building these temples. He even allowed the humans to build their own temple.” Tor varr started chuckling; “Now that is human logic for you. These sailors show up, get drunk, enjoy the brothels, steal and get robbed; come dawn, they confess their sins in the church and all is forgiven. Insanity.”

Griska spotted Thrak and Sachi by the fountain, Sachi sticking her hand under the running water. As the two of them approached, Thrak said (in Tauren), “Where were you two?”

Griska said “Sorry, we fell behind.”

Thrak looked down at Griska; “So, what do you think we should do?”

She shrugged and said, “I really don’t know. We could settle here, I suppose.”

Thrak grunted, and said “Well, we might as well look around.”

Tor varr nodded, “I’ll show you all the sites that I’m certain won’t scare you off.”

***

The four companions wandered around the city all day. He showed them the market squares, the dockside, the river canals that cut through the city, and ended his tour on Watchman’s Point. All in all, it was a good day for the four companions.

As they made their way back into the heart of the city, Tor varr told them what spots to avoid at all costs. “First off, stay away from the Undead quarter. I don’t know what they do over there, nor do I want to know. Also, avoid the avintine district.”

“What’s the avintine district?” Thrak asked.

“It’s the poorest area of the city; a lot of the buildings used to be warehouses before they expanded the docks beyond the wall. Once that happened, the area was marketed as a place of cheap housing. For the day labourers, its home. Of course, it also has the worst crime I’ve seen anywhere.”

As they were walking down the long street of brothels and inns Griska, Tor varr, and Sachi had passed on the previous night, Thrak stopped in front of one building. Realizing her brother wasn’t following, Griska turned to find him entering the establishment.

***

The inside was a bare room; the walls were unadorned, the long counter was spare of any items, and the floor didn’t have a piece of furniture.

Behind the counter, an old Orc sat, whittling away. Thrak walked over to him, and said “I noticed you had a ‘For Sale’ sign in the window.”

The old man nodded, “That’s right.”

“Is business that bad?” Thrak asked.

“No, I’m just that old. I’ve made enough to spend the last years of my life relaxing in Orgrimmar.”

Thrak smiled at that; “Orgrimmar is a city on the rise. I don’t think you’ll find much peace and quiet up there.”

“Well, we’ll have to see about that,” the old man said, as he set down his whittling. “So, are you here for conversation, or to conduct business?”

Thrak smiled at him; “Business.”

***

Before the three of them could even enter the building, Thrak came right back out. He looked around quickly, and said “Tor varr, where’s the nearest bank?”

Tor varr, a little taken aback, said “There’s a bank of Orgrimmar in the market square just there.” Thrak ran off in the direction the troll pointed.

Not having a clue what was going on, the three ran after Thrak. The young Orc was moving; Tor varr had to lift Sachi on his back so that they could keep up.

They at last found the Orc as he climbed up the stairs into the bank.

One of the early acts of Thrall as Warchief was to develop the Orgrimmar bank. The idea was to allow people to transport money over long distances without risk. The way it worked was simple; a person, not wanting to risk the dangerous paths of Durotar with large chests of money went to the bank. He deposited the money he wanted available to him at the next bank, plus a transport fee, of course. The proper documentation was the key; so long as you had your documentation on you, you could show it at the next bank to receive your money.

Thrak still had his documentation.

The bank in Grom was an impressive one. Built of granite, the building could only be entered up a high flight of stairs on the outside. It seemed windowless, cold, and methodical. The message was clear; you are entering a vault.

He ran up to the first available clerk. A stately Tauren female, she looked down on the Orc before her, and said “And what can I do for you today?”

Thrak reached into the pocket he had sewn on the inside of his pant leg. Drawing out his papers, he said “I’d like to get back my money, please.”

***

The three companions had at last reached the top of the stairs, and once again, the Orc ran by them.

Tor varr looked after him; “Okay, he’s really starting to drive me nuts.”

Thrak ran through the street as quickly as he could, bearing the weight he was. He had a lot of business to do in a very short time; he couldn’t afford to make too many trips to the bank.

The two Orcs and one very tired troll lost sight of Thrak. They looked around for about an hour, and at last spotted the building he had originally entered.

Tor varr said “Well, we’ve looked everywhere else. Do you think he’s inside?”

“I don’t know, but it couldn’t hurt to check,” Griska said. All three were breathing hard, but Tor varr especially, as he was carrying Sachi. Between her pants, Griska said “If he’s in there, I’m going to kill him.”

Tor varr nodded, “You and me both.”

Once they caught their collective breaths, the three went inside.

The inside of the building had completely changed. Several tables with four chairs a piece stood throughout the room. The lower layer of the counter had at least twenty iron mugs, freshly wiped, sitting on it. The once empty shelf behind the counter now sported trollish rum, Orcish whisky, Dwarven ale and Gnomish beer. The fireplace had several large logs in it, waiting to be lit up, and the walls were lined with candle holders.

Griska also noticed a few things she hadn’t before; namely, a large stair case to the left that led to a gangway connecting six rooms. Three were labelled A, B, and C. The other three, which were facing the street, were unnumbered.

Tor varr spoke, “I don’t remember this much stuff being here last time.”

Griska answered “Because it wasn’t.”

A clang came from a room in the back. The three made their way into what turned out to be the kitchen. Inside, they found Thrak sliding large chunks of beef onto a metal roasting spit. He had knocked a pot off the counter working the difficult to control device.

“Thrak, what are you doing,” Griska asked as she entered the kitchen. Thrak turned to her, and said “I’m giving us jobs.”

“Doing what?” she asked as Thrak walked out the door, meat on a spit in hand.

“Running this inn,” he replied as he set the spit on the lower level, and proceeded to light the fire. “The old man was selling the place, and so I went out and bought this stuff, and now we own an inn.”

“Where did you get the money for that?” Griska asked.

Still smiling, Thrak drew out a set of papers, and laid it down in front of her. Tor varr’s eyes nearly bugged out his head; he’d never seen that many zeroes in his life.

Thrak said “Before we left Orgrimmar, I sold the beef to the other butchers, and sold the butcher shop itself. I managed to get a very nice bidding war going between a couple rival buyers, and cleaned out. The money you see on that slip isn’t the money I brought from Orgrimmar; that’s the money that’s still left.”

Now it was Griska’s turn to let her eyes nearly bug out of her head. She was a bit taken aback when Tor varr said, “Uh, Thrak, this is probably as good a time as any to mention that the walking stomach did eat me out of house and home…”

The troll thought he was being funny; Griska didn’t think so, and smacked him in the head.

Thrak pointed to the three rooms above the entrance; “Those are our rooms. I just used the beds that were already inside.”

This was a lot to absorb for Griska; not an hour ago, she was homeless, without work, and a struggle for the future. And now, thanks to her brother, it looked as if everything was going to work out.

“Look, Griska, we can make this work. I need you to trust me.”

She looked around the inn, and finally looked at Thrak.

“Let’s give it a go.”

***

Hours passed into the evening, and still not one customer. Thrak had lit the window candles to indicate the place was open, but not one customer had come through.

It was starting to seem like a bad idea.

Thrak stood behind the counter, head down, hands on the lower level. Sachi was already sleeping upstairs; Griska and Tor varr sat side by side on the chairs next to the bar. Tor varr had agreed to be their cook; it would beat spending his days cutting the heads off of fish.

Of course, that was when it seemed they might get some business.

Griska looked up at her brother. He seemed so disappointed in himself; the last time he looked so defeated was when…

The only difference was now he couldn’t fix his mistake with a knife. Griska spoke “Somebody will come soon.”

Thrak shook his head; “No one’s coming Griska. Tor varr, blow out the candles.”

Tor varr reluctantly stood up, and went to blow out the ones at the door. Without warning, the door flew open, nearly striking the troll in the face. A small group of Dwarves walked in; the one at the front had a grey beard. Grey beard looked around, and said “See tat, ya gits, I told ya thar’d be a place that serve ale.”

With a cheer, the dwarves went and sat down at various tables. Griska lost no time in rising and taking down their orders. Several were hungry, and Tor varr found himself cutting large cuts of meat for their plates. A smile on his face, Thrak poured the Dwarves their drinks and whispered a silent prayer of thanks to Pata.

[Niderin]

You dont know how happy you have made me to post more of the story out again.

[Niderin]

so how long do you think it will take to getfinished with the next part

[arcamedes]

Yes, please hurry with the finish I can't wait.

[Tor varr]

Sorry guys, but it will take me awhile to get the next post. I have midterms starting next week, followed in short order by a number of term papers. I'll post when I have the chance, but school comes first.

[arcamedes]

Ok, at least we know you didn't totally forget about it. Good luck on your mid terms and term papers.

[Niderin]

Yeah sorry if i was pissen you off. Your right school work does come first. Good luck man and may the force be with you always

[trudelle]

Are you still writing this story, I keep getting hooked on the stories in this forum and anticipate more of them being finished.
So far I think it is a good story and want to see where you go with it.

[shibs]

Interesting story, keep it up

[Squirally]

Hi, I'm new to the forums and catching up on the fan fiction. Just wanted to say this is an excellent story and I can't wait to read the next chapter.

Also, as a primary English speaker who took four years of high school French, I can say the American education system needs much improvement in that area. I was able to go to Paris as an exchange student for a few weeks, and found myself completely overwhelmed. It was as if I never took French at all I could barely make out a word.

[deathfromabove]

that seems mighty irrelavent.

[Squirally]

I didn't think so considering earlier in the post he was discussing French as his primary language. I'll be sure to try keep and any comments that you may deem unnecessary in the from hitting the boards.

[milkshakboom]

thank you for writing ! i have been reading it at work ..needless to say im not gettin anything done i was riveted :)