As the Land Weeps

[Beltharean]

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JlibZoNlS3o[/youtube]

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.
~~Mahatma Ghandi

A roar pierced the skies of Ashenvale. A roar that would cut through the clouds, and reach the spirit world to alarm Gor'kash's ancestors that another of their kin was coming to join them. The roar echoed across the treetops, through the deepest valleys, and into the hearts of the orcs around him. With a croak, the last of the air seeped from the Seer's lungs, leaving him gasping. He sniffed away the buildup forming in his nose, and blinked away the beginning of tears as he kneeled, to hold his brother's hand in his.

An elven arrow protruded from the orc's green chest, stained now by blood. The hand was cold, and sent a shiver down Gor'Kash's spine. His eyes flicked to his dead brother Rok'tan's face, taking it in for the last time. He pulled his fingers from around his brother's hand, and closed the orc's bright blue eyes for the final time. They were identical except for this discrepancy, a fact that had always caused Gor'kash to believe his brother would be the better of the two shamans. The one to make it to old age: To see his children running across the plains of their new home on Kalimdor, and own a Pig Farm to sustain himself.

Gor'kash clenched his hand into a fist, slamming it next to his brother's limp head. His eyes clenched shut, and not bothering to look back said, “Grahn, get me the pliers.” The grunt rushed to the Shaman's mount, pulling out a seemingly ancient pair of metallic tongs. The handle was bound in leather, depicting the story of his family line. Dying demons, epic battles, and massive ogres were sprawled across it's face. The orc took them in hand, and ripped out his brother's right fang; A tradition orcs had been fulfilling since the dawn of time.

Ripping a bag from his brother's hip, Gor'kash threw the tooth in. It jangled against dozens of other similar fings, each one belonging to an ancient ancestor. He looked in the pack, and wondered how long it would be until his own fang would be within. He shook his head, and tied the reagent bag to his own side. The rituals of death were almost over. All that would be left was to cremate his brother back in Orgrimmar, and take on the oaths his brother had sworn; And his brother had very, very high hopes.

Dragging the limp form of Rok'tan to his mount, Gor'kash hoisted him up into his lap. The orc spurred his massive white wolf into motion, galloping through the forests. His eyes drifted down to his brother, “Why peace, brother? If only your goal was the death of a thousand ogres, or the head of a dragon. But no, you asked for the unobtainable. Peace with the elves. Why? Why would you leave me with such a burden? You could have done it, with those blue eyes of yours, destined for greatness! Destined by the spirits. I was left with these brown orbs, what can I do with them?

“Nothing, that's what I can do, and yet you ask of me a task greater than Thrall's formation of the Horde. Peace with the elves! Why must it be so? I had the vision as well, of the land weeping, pleading for the end of this war... But there's nothing we- I can do. Maybe if we were together. Why... Why must you be dead..?” Gor'kash sighed, looking out into the forest, past the trees that whizzed by, “Out there, there are hundred, thousands, tens of thousands, of elves. And they all want my head. And it's -my- task to enter the depths of THAT, with my tail between my legs? Begging for forgiveness? If you were anyone but who you were brother, I would be forced to let you die without honour.”

Gor'kash raised his head up to the sky now and yelled, “But hear me spirits! Let my brother's death be a proud one! I shall take the burden of his oath for peace, so it may rest in my hands until the time of my own death!” The three grunts following the shaman looked at each other uneasily. They could be flayed for talk such as that, peace with the elves. It wasn't law, but some of the higher ranking men and women of the Warsong didn't appreciate anti-war sentiments.

The group rounded a bend, bursting out into the sunlight. A vast plain of tree trunks stretched out before them, nearly as far as the eye could see. It pained Gor'kash, deep within his chest, every time he witnessed the destruction his people were causing. As a shaman, he had spoken with the spirits of the forest. The very trees themselves, which were now being taken down by the ever present droning hum of the goblin shredders.

The group made their way forward, toward a zeppelin docked on the horizon. The three grunts broke off from behind Gor'kash, galloping their wolves toward the barracks at a wave from the Seer's hand. He could bring a lifeless body back to Orgrimmar on his own. On his own, he could relay the news of Rok'tan's death to his mother; To the friends he and Gor'kash had grown so close to, and to their trainer in the arts of the spirit Gal'khan. They would all find out soon enough.

The weight of the events of the last hour began to press down on Gor'kash's shoulders. He had the weight of the world on him, and it was impossible to shrug off. What if he was too heavy? If he boarded the zeppelin, and the weight was too much. He would cause the massive vessel to sink down to the ground, unable to take off. The image put a smirk on his face for a moment, breaking the solemn expression he had just prior.

The orc got into the zeppelin, designed to carry cargo to and from Orgrimmar. It would carry occupants on a first come first serve basis, and luckily for Gor'kash the zeppelin had room for quite a few more occupants. Pulling the cloak from his back, the Seer draped it over his brother, laying the corpse down on the ground. He took a seat, and kept a keen eye on the body. Some of the goblins running the zeppelins were known to have fingers as sticky as Un'goro tar.

With a sputter and a boom, the zeppelin's engine roared into life. It slowly raised it's way into the air, the gentle hum reaching Gor'kash's ears. The rocking of the ship, combined with the sounds of the engine put the training Seer to sleep before they were even out of Ashenvale, despite his hardest attempts at watching his brother's body.

A massive kodo stamped along the dry Barrens, sending clouds of dust as it went. Solitary and alone it trekked. So it had been for many years. The birds had rested on it's back for many years, but they had gone. The fish had greeted her from their lakes, but they were nowhere to be found. The sun had once been her ally, but now the kodo found only pain in it's harsh rays. Everything seemed to be against her, but she still trudged on.

From each direction however, she heard the sounds of many animals. Dozens, a pack of something on either side. She looked, but the sun had been blinding her for so long, they appeared only as shadows. On her left, tall slender two-leggers raised their weapons. On her right, massive beasts, with wide shoulders stood. They also stood on two legs, raising their weapons. They each seemed to be arguing with one another, but the wind had long been against the poor kodo, ruining her hearing. They pointed at her, each shouting.

The slender figures ran toward her, climbing upon her back. The wide figures seemed ready to attack her, but the tall ones were doing no help. They nearly broke the poor kodo's back, in their attempts to smother her. The weapons they tried to defend her with only caused her more pain. The ones with wide shoulders began open conflict, hacking and slashing at the kodo. Each of the groups caused her bloodshed, each for their own reasons.

The kodo tried to stand, to stay on her own, to leave behind the wretched battle, but she could not. The kodo could only sit as it's legs gave out, forced to lay as the two groups battled atop her. She let out a cry, her deep baritone voice carrying out across the plains. She closed her eyes, slipping into eternal rest as the groups each fought until none were standing. The battle was pointless, leaving the kodo dead, as well as both groups. The birds, the fish, the sun, they still lived on, but the Kodo... The entity that all, no matter which group, cared for, had fallen in their attempts to control it.

Gor'kash awoke, his eyes flicking open. A dream. Dreams always had meaning, what of this one? The Seer looked down to his brother, recalling the shapes of the figures. Could it be possible they were orcs? They did have the shape... And what of the slender ones? Elves? It seemed possible. And the kodo? Gor'kash shook the last mental lulls of sleep, but before he could look deeper into the meaning of the vision, the zeppelin began to descend. It flew down toward the entrance of Orgrimmar, drawing him closer and closer to bringing the news to his mother. How she would weep... How she would cry, and ask for vengeance. But no. He couldn't. He had sworn to take his brother's oath of peace toward the elves, to bring the two races into a mutual agreement. He wouldn't accept the blow to his honour of failing at his brother's task, even if it meant he must disappoint his mother. Gor'kash would succeed, no matter how hard he must try.