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The Coward and the Weakling
#1
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              Do you remember, my friend? Of a time long ago? I remember the lush, green grass, the tall trees, the sprawling waterfalls. The howling wolves, the pearly moon. The wind in our hair. The soil beneath our feet. The smiles among our people. The mutual peace and respect we all had.

              Our people were aloof; we hardly met or knew each other when either of us were growing up. You had to prepare for your om'riggor. I had to train as a vindicator.

              You had a nagging little sister and had to live within the shadow of your older brother, and he was betrothed to a female you were madly in love with. I had an overbearing older sister and the expectations of my brothers of the Light as well as a female I didn't like but continously pursued me.

              You had high expectations despite your reputation as a weakling. I had low expectations because I was an actual coward.

              We had so little in common, yet so many to share.

              We became the best of friends. Neverending companions. Blood brothers.

              I still believe we are, even though Azeroth would rather we never be again.
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#2
"Tell me about Baya'nog."



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              "Baya'nog was my older brother, born seven years before me. He was the apple of my mother's eye and was very beloved of my father. My sister always preferred to play with him more than me. He was popular in my clan and a crowd favorite. Every time there was a brawl or a fight, Baya was always rooted for. Everyone wanted to fight by his side. Everyone would cheer for his name.

              "I looked up to him. He was bold, he was brave, he was everything every orc my age at the time looked up to be. Shortly after his om'riggor, he achieved the name of Bonegrinder, from a time he ground up the bones of a hostile ogre just by battling him. He was fierce. He was strong. He was a hero and a champion.

              "He was everything I was not. And yet he loved me like any brother would. When the other children picked on me for my small stature when I was a child, he defended me. When I was lost out in the fields in attempts to hunt, he'd find and rescue me. He never scolded, he never threatened me. When others tell me I should have drowned at birth, he says the Spirits believed there is greatness in me. He believed in me, like I believed in him.

              "I lived under the shadow of greatness of my brother... and back then, I wouldn't have it any other way."
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#3
"Tell me about Diwaata."



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                            "Diwaata and I bickered a lot... that's probably the tell-tale sign that we're siblings despite not looking at all like each other. She had a nickname for me: 'Runt'. The nickname was justifiable--I was the smallest child in the orphanage throughout childhood, and I was a very late bloomer when it came to puberty--I still resembled a young boy by the time I was sixteen.

              "Very often Dia would pick on me, tugging on my braids, decorating my horns in my sleep, or painting my hooves red. She pushed me around, barked orders at me, and took every opportunity to remind me that she is ten minutes older. I hated it. I often wished she would leave me alone... but more often than not, I find myself running back to her.

              "One time, I saw her crying. She was curled up under a tree all by herself, peering up to the stars. I came up to her and asked what was wrong. She told me she learned what our parents were in profession and that other children threw around the idea that our parents probably abandoned us. Diwaata didn't want to believe it--she wants to believe our mother and father, an anchorite and vindicator respectively, died while en route to Draenor and their bodies were sent to the stars. I realized, then, that even with loving people around us, we were the only family left. Even when we bicker, I would never leave my sister's side, and she would never leave mine."

              "My sister is my beacon of strength and courage, even when she made me cry."
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