The pain was inconsequential, the blood meaningless. Thragash frowned at the crimson-soaked bandage tying his arm, covering the wound he had suffered earlier from the dark blade of a fellow orc that sought to end his life. It was not just his blood they were after, of course. The Goresight Vanguard had made a powerful enemy in the Blackskull Cabal, and he had promised himself to fight against the corrupted horde for as long as the Vanguard needed him. Not that he felt he was much help. An orc armed with just his fists was a dangerous foe for some, but in comparison to the rest of the Vanguard, he was weak. Just an orc who knew how to brawl.
He pushed thoughts of the Cabal out of his mind, then. He was going to change, purge himself of weakness. He was going to learn the runes, and then his fists would be true weapons like any other. This brought him to Mulgore. He knew the theory, and he had the drive, now he needed the runes themselves. Somewhere, underneath the wind-swept plains of the Tauren homeland, the ley lines formed the first runic pattern he'd learn. He had to find the shape, record it, and commit it to memory.
He barely knew where to begin.
It felt like hours of aimless wandering. Thragash was looking for anything that would possibly mark his goal, trying to sense anything that felt like the power he was seeking. Exhausted from his fruitless search, Thragash stopped near the border with the Barrens. Just as he was about to abandon his search altogether, he found a series of pools, steaming with hot water. Curious, not to mention tired, Thragash approached the hot springs. He tested the water's temperature, feeling the heat that was intense, but not scalding. He stepped into the water, rumbling lowly to himself as the water engulfed his feet, then up his legs. Soon, the orc was sitting in the hot water, rising up to his shoulders.
Thragash sighed, letting his mind wander as he relaxed. What was he even looking for? He didn't know if he'd be able to find a place of power on his own. He could have passed it without knowing. He wracked his brain, trying to think of where he had been. He couldn't think of anything. He finally rose out of the water enough to sit on the edge of the water, looking down at his soaked pants. The bandage he was wearing was soon soaked with water as well. Useless as it was, Thragash finally untied it, tossing it aside, then peered at the unharmed green skin there.
Wait, unharmed?
A blink followed this question he asked himself, staring at the skin. There wasn't even a scar there, and there was no way that the deep cut he had suffered could have healed that quickly. His gaze tore from his arm to the pool he was just in.
Could it be?
He dug his nails into his forearm, his jaw clenching as he clawed at himself until blood was drawn. Then, he submerged this bloodied limb into the water, only to watch in amazement as the hot water itself began to slowly mend the wounds he had inflicted. The orc stood, quickly moving along the side of the spring, to the next. He furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of what he was looking at. There were many springs. Maybe...just maybe...this was what he was looking for. He knelt down, studying his surroundings. This was it. This was the first rune pattern.
Thragash spent the rest of the night here, either in mediation or memorizing the pattern the springs made. Soon, he could feel the power itself, sleeping beneath the water. He'd never forget it.
Thragash was barely paying attention as Dagrim left, climbing back down the mountain. Dagrim and Draknir had been kind enough to come up to the peak with him, where the young orc believed he would be able to gain a good enough view of the entire Stonetalon Mountain area to find the next rune pattern that he was sure awaited him here. They left him now. Thragash knew it was a risk, that the mountains were not safe, especially for an unarmed orc as himself, but he did not want to keep them. Besides, who would risk climbing those mountains after them? He had already found what he as looking for. This mountain peak was truly an amazing location, kept quiet only by the great difficulty in reaching the peak.
Now the orc sat on the peak of the mountain, eyes gazing out over the land beneath him. The view extended out for what seemed like miles, stretching out in every direction from the peak. It was more than just that, though. It was as if his eyes could pick up every trace of movement, no matter how insignificant. His ears picked up every breath he took with startling clarity, and his nose detected the Stonetalon vegetation and wildlife despite the great distance. Never before did Thragash feel so in tune with the world around him...so aware. He closed his eyes, feeling the flow of magic in this place, the power that was inherent in this landmark. He could feel the rune, and as the hours passed, could see it in his mind...
He could hear gravel shifting, the sound of boots treading upon the mountain's soil. Thragash's eyes opened quickly, peering about as he rose to a crouch. Who could it be, climbing the mountain at this hour? He inched his way to the edge of the peak, peering through the gloom to find who he was seeking. Soon enough, his magic-enhanced gaze found the source of the noise, two hooded, broad figures, slowly and stealthily working their way up. At least, they thought they were stealthy. Hard to hide from one whose eyes have been enhanced. This didn't greatly improve Thragash's chances...he was unarmed, and they were not. He clenched his jaw, crouching at the peak where he expected the orcs to arrive. The first hands came up to the edge of the peak. Thragash held his breath, silently waiting until a head came over, then he saw the widening eyes, the only visible thing on that face due to the mask and hood. With a growl, the Runemaster-in-training kicked hard, his boot slamming into the assassin's face and sent him tumbling down the mountain side.
One down, and surprise lost.
The young orc quickly stood, backing away as another pair of hands came up, the second hooded figure coming up to join him on the peak. Cabal assassins, he could recognize the dark uniform and the cruel knives. Clearly they expected to take him out while he was alone, but Thragash was not going to go out without a fight. The two orcs stood, watching each other warily, one clutching his daggers, the other tightening his fists.
It was the assassin that struck first, lunging forward to the unarmed orc with his knives ready. Thragash could only barely defend himself, growling as he lost ground while trying to avoid the deadly blades. He grunted as the assassin managed a stab, and he rose a forearm to block it. He was certain he felt the blade hit bone, slicing through skin and muscle with little effort. He barely had time to fight back before more blades found his skin, slicing through his side, his leg, his chest. He fell back, though he did not remember the fall itself, only that he was now on the ground with his assailant over him. He remembered the pain, the blood, his own body beaten and weakened. Was this it? A fitting end for one who failed in his quest, one who went off on his own?
The pain is inconsequential. The blood is meaningless. I have come too far to fall now!
He wasn't thinking. He only knew that his foot had come up, slamming into the assassin's chest. He could feel the magic of this place, the power flowing through him, the awareness. The assassin lunged forward again, but Thragash knew it was coming, sensing the movement. He ducked to the side, grabbing the assassin's tunic and giving him a hard throw. The scream that followed told the young orc that his assailant was now falling down the mountain.
Thragash stood at the edge, blood dripping down his body as he looked for the body. His breathing was unsteady and shaky, but there was little he could do about it now. It was a long way down for a wounded orc, with only his determination and force of will...and now, the second runic pattern, that of awareness.
Oathkeeper.
What does a person have to do to earn such a name? Thragash thought about it, but didn't come up with any answers. He knew, dimly, that other races did not earn their names as the orcs did. Still, the name fascinated him. That, in part, might have been due to the owner. Can night elves be trusted to keep their oaths? Anuil had shown them a small kindness, directing them off the road, but Thragash could still not find it in him to trust her.
They had ran, Duron, Lirshar, and himself. There was another as well, an orc he did not particularly care to know. His thoughts were focused on the task that was ahead of him. He had to find the rune site...the third, the last before he could place the runes on his own person. After the attack on the peak of the mountain, he didn't particularly want to risk going alone, but part of him felt guilty on subjecting these others to danger, for him. He wondered if it was worth it...if he was, if he would make them proud in the end.
Thragash figured that Farseer Stormcaller would hit him with her staff if she saw him doubting himself again.
He pushed those thoughts out of his head, running through the forest, evading the night elves lurking about. Ashenvale was a dangerous land, especially for his kind. Thankfully, he was getting a better sense of where the rune sites rest, his brow furrowing as he oriented himself towards there. His ears picked up the collective breaths of himself and his companions, the heavy footfalls as they ran ever closer to their destination.
Then, silence fell. The footfalls stopped. Thragash's gaze swept over the glade that stretched out before him. The entire clearing had a sense of peace over it, tranquil and quiet. Even the beasts of the land seemed to feel it. Wolf and bear sat side by side, and giant spiders and stags stood unafraid next to one another. It was perfect serenity, complete peace. Words were spoken, but Thragash wasn't paying much attention. It was up to him now, this was the place. He stepped forward, his eyes peering about carefully, taking in every detail of the clearing and the trees surrounding it. The noise and frantic pace of the run before was still on his mind, contrasting with the sudden calm.
Then, the growling started.
He didn't know what was happening until the beasts were rising up to challenge them, unified in their anger at their presence in this place. Arrows flew from behind him, Lirshar taking out bears, while the other two orcs charged forth with their weapons, taking down those that threatened them. Thragash felt a bear's claw dig into his arm, wincing at the force. It was a humbling experience, reminding him of why he was doing this, what he had to gain. Still, once the immediate threat had been ended with little trouble by his companions, he took the time to bandage himself. He decided that he really needed to stop getting hurt like this.
Thragash was thankful that the Warlady Goresight had come. Her skill at handling animals was impressive, and she had little trouble encouraging the others to flee the clearing. With that done, they went off to camp the night, determined to stay with him until the morning. Thragash just shook his head and concentrated on his task. He peered about, watching the grass, the ground, the trees around him, looking for the pattern. He soon closed his eyes, extending his senses to the magic beneath the ground.
His ears picked up the conversation going on near him, bits and pieces going through his mind. Duron wanting a bow. Lirshar offering hers. Duron suggesting stealing one from the elves. Lirshar worried over his safety. Talk of the calm and quiet of the glade. He tried to tune it out, but those thoughts still occupied him. Their conversation was the only thing carrying in the quiet of the clearing. It wasn't until they finally fell asleep that his mind focused on the rune, seeing it with his mind's eye.
Before him was the rune pattern of Beasts.
This is it. Let's see if all of this was worth it.
It had been some time since the visit to the Vale of Beasts, when he learned the third runic pattern that he needed. It was with this knowledge that he could return successfully to Thunder Bluff, and finally get the runes inscribed onto his person. It wasn't the end of his training, of course, but it was the first step to truly mastering the runes and begin to control their power. Indeed, it seemed like this was the first true step.
Thragash entered the hut of the tauren who set him on this path so long ago, an aged, black bull covered with runes across his body. No words were exchanged, and none were needed. Instead, the orc sat opposite of the tauren, and with parchment and ink, began to sketch down the runic patterns as he saw them in his mind's eye. It took some concentration to remember them all, how each rune twisted and turned, the exact pattern necessary to make the magic flow into the pattern. The tauren only watched with a faint smile, until Thragash finally finished all three sketches, placing them before him.
"Healing, Beast, and Awareness. So it is decided, these will be the runes that will mark the beginning of your path." With that, the tauren stood, and took up his own ink. With that, he began to paint the runes himself, though this time, upon Thragash's skin.
It was a painful experience. It felt as if each rune were being seared into his flesh, burning and stinging until they finally cooled...at which point, he felt numb for several moments longer. Thragash clenched his jaw, keeping silent. On his chest rested the rune of beasts, then his left arm wrapped the rune of awareness. Healing then came last, encircling his right arm. For a moment, he wondered how different it was to permanently mark his skin, in comparison to the fur of a tauren. Either way, his mentor seemed to have no trouble with the process. Before the tauren was finished, he did one more thing. Asking Thragash to lift up his hands and ball them into fists, he then began to paint smaller runes upon the orc's knuckles. A grunt left the orc every time another small rune as burned into his skin, but he otherwise endured in silence. When all was said and done, the orc bowed down low, and the tauren simply nodded.
"Return when you have grasped a deeper understanding of your runes, and have found your fourth."
Thanking him, Thragash departed. He paused, walking over to the nearby pond to stare at himself, and the runes etched onto his skin. It was done...the first real step, and finally he could start to call upon the runes power. At least...he knew the basics. He could do something, at least. That was more than he started with.
He took a deep breath, making his way out of the tauren city. He had to return to the Vanguard before they missed him, and he had to start figuring out where the next rune could be found.
More importantly, he had to train.
((I'm really glad you're continuing this, Grak! Nice post!))
Thragash pushed himself harder in his training that night. Getting a rather quick thrashing by a mage, Reigen no less, in the arena was a quick reminder that he had a long way to go still. His fists and feet slammed against the training dummy he was squaring off again, sweat starting to form on the orc's green skin. He was pushing himself to move faster and hit harder, again and again without pause.
It felt like hours before he finally let himself stop, panting as he sat down on the ground. Even with the exhaustion from the fight, he didn't let himself rest completely. Instead, he concentrated on the runes on his skin, channeling power into them, exerting their influence to empower his body and sharpen his senses. The runes on his body were flaring to life with a bright, silvery light. For a moment he felt like his awareness to expand, and the strength of a bear filling his muscles.
He was still having trouble grasping the power firmly. There were so many secrets to these runes that he didn't fully understand, but every day he learned a little more...what powers they had, to what extent he could draw on them, how to best channel that power without exerting himself too heavily.
Soon he could take no more, laying back and taking a few more deep breaths. During his rest, the orc's mind began to wander, reflecting on the events of the past few days. Meeting Reigen who seemed to have an endless number of questions about his power, meeting Vindaes who proved to be a skilled melee combatant...they were both inspirations and obstacles to be overcome. He couldn't let himself rest for longer than necessary, for he had a lot of work to do. He'd beat them both, all he needed to do was further his training and show them both just how powerful he could truly be.
Once he regained his breath, Thragash stood. He steeled himself as he thought about where to go next. He needed another rune, but where would he find it? He took out his map, staring at it silently. Then, it hit him, a sudden realization as he peered at northern Kalimdor. He was looking for a place with powerful magic, something that would likely hold the secret of one of the runes. He knew where he was going next...
After all, what place had more stories of its natural wonder than the Moonglade?
Okay, Thragash. You got yourself into this. Now what?
Getting into the Moonglade wasn't exactly an easy task. Surrounded by impassable mountains on all sides, the only ways into Moonglade involved either flying or finding a tunnel through the mountains. The former was almost impossible if you didn't have a wyvern of your own handy, as most wind riders wouldn't make the trip there...especially if you weren't a druid. Since flying over wasn't an option for him, he instead decided to go through, and that meant going to the only tunnel he was personally aware of.
This led Thragash to Felwood, and he wasn't particularly happy about it.
The tunnel wasn't unoccupied. Furbolgs known as the Timbermaw lived within that passage. Thragash was thankful that they at least listened and could be reasoned with, though they weren't exactly friendly. Anyone who wished to cross their territory had to prove themselves friends of the Timbermaw, which mostly consisted of pummeling the local, enemy tribes and thinning their numbers. Considering that most of the other tribes were murderously insane, he didn't particularly feel bad in helping with the purging, and it gave him a little while to stretch his muscles.
Attacking crazy furbolgs head-on wasn't going to be very conducive to his long-term health, so Thragash snuck as best he could through the Felwood (not an easy task for an orc his size.) He picked off loners and stragglers, relying on his runic magic to keep him safe. A bear paw would swing, only for Thragash to be aware of it before hand and dodge out of the way. He'd then counter with the strength of that great beast behind his swing, runic fist breaking bones. It was the first time he had an opportunity to use his runes for actual combat, and while the fights were not especially epic, he nonetheless grinned with pride at how far his skill had already come in the short time since his training began.
Nearly a day had gone by before he managed to down enough of the furbolgs to prove himself for the passage. With a deep breath, he approached Timbermaw Hold again, and he was granted passage. Not that he was still particularly liked, for it was more of a grudging respect he finally held. He could still feel the resentment, and he wasted no time in making his way through, and away from the glares that followed him.
---
Moonglade was...fresh. It smelled like the outdoors, every tree seemed vibrant and alive, and the sounds of the wildlife reached Thragash's ears. Everything seemed new and alive, and it was an interesting experience to simply be in the Moonglade, a place where few that were not druids would ever step foot into.
"Do not cause any trouble here, orc. Or I will not hesitate to remove you from this glade." Thragash didn't need to be told twice by the warder that finally allowed him into Moonglade itself. Making an enemy of the Cenarion Circle was not on the agenda.
Now that he was here, though, Thragash realized he didn't know where he was going, exactly. Getting into the glade was only half the battle, and now it was up to him to actually find the runic pattern that he suspected rested beneath Moonglade. He stepped into the woods, glancing around at the quiet and serene location. He walked for a few minutes, then stopped at a small clearing.
He sat, closing his eyes, and letting his mind wander. He'd now gotten better and sensing the lines of magic beneath him, especially in aiding himself find the points where they intersected. It took a moment, his mind's eye imagining the clearing he sat in...then felt the river beneath him, the flow of power that coursed through the earth. His eyes then snapped back open. He felt it, and it was close. He rose to his feet, following the line of power that he saw, if only for a brief moment, through hills and trees.
Then, he came upon the valley.
Surrounded by hills and trees, the large clearing was more noteworthy than the last. Everything felt more...alive. Even fresher. Even greener. Even livelier. Herbs bloomed throughout the valley...several that he recognized, and many more that he didn't. As Thragash walked into the valley, he tried to avoid stepping on more than necessary, but avoiding them entirely was simply impossible. There was no question...this was it. Reaching the center and taking in a deep breath, Thragash sat cross-legged, and again shut his eyes. He focused his mind downward, again to the magic flowing beneath him. Hours passed...at least, it seemed like hours, he couldn't be sure of the exact amount of time...and then he saw it, the rune that he had been looking for. He studied it, memorized it, watched every curve and every straight line. When he opened his eyes again, he quickly jotted down the pattern he had seen, and immediately knew what it was. A pattern of cleansing and life...the pattern of restoration.
Thragash snuck out of the tower. Well, snuck as well as an orc his size could. Which wasn't very well, but he nonetheless managed to make his escape without any ruckus.
Reigen had offered to let him stay at the tower for the night, but he never did feel comfortable there, in the middle of the Netherstorm. Outland was a place of painful reminders, places and people who were proof of his people's mistakes. He was too young to have any memory of Draenor before the shattering, but it had a strong effect on him in either event, and he was glad to make his way back.
He had business to attend to, anyway. The rune of Restoration was still fresh in his mind, and he had to present it before his mentor. It was the fourth, and he felt that he was as ready as he could be. The battles of recent days, the training and the travel...it had prepared him as well as anything could. He didn't want to return to Lirshar and the Vanguard until he was ready to show them just what he could do. Now was the time, and he wasn't going to disappoint.
---
"You have returned to me." The tauren sat across from the entrance, looking up as the orc entered. His face was unreadable...or perhaps Thragash didn't have enough experience in detecting facial expressions with Tauren.
Thragash moved in, bowing down low as he came in. "...I found another. Restoration, within a valley in the Moonglade." He immediately sat, starting to draw and show the rune. It took nearly an hour of painstaking attention to detail, and the entire while the tauren just sat, idly drinking some herbal tea that Thragash couldn't quite identify by smell alone. He preferred alcohol in some form, anyway.
Once the drawing was done, the tauren nodded, standing. "Very well. Before you earn this one, you must show me how strong you have become. ...come, orc." He followed behind, stepping into a more cleared off area.
Wait, I have to fight him? Gah, no way.
Thragash tensed, his brow furrowing as he dropped down into his usual stance, watching as the tauren did the same. No more words were spoken, and no more were needed. He charged, coming at the bull with his runes flaring in a silver light. He moved with the speed of a great cat, leaping as he swing his fist, only for it to connect with nothing. He ducked beneath the swing that came to follow, his rune of awareness alerting him to the attack. Another swing, another dodge. He kept at it, dodging and weaving, growling with the growing fury of his race. He lasted for some time, sweat starting to glisten on his skin, until a mistake was made, and a punch slammed against his chest.
The orc coughed, staggering back with a wince. He dropped to a knee, looking up at the tauren. He stood, until he relaxed. "...very good. You've improved, but you still have some time to go. Come." Thragash followed.
---
The pain had returned. It was better this time, only one rune, and his determination had grown. His broad back was now painted with the flowing rune, showing the power of restoration. Once the tauren had finished branding the mark onto the orc, he turned and nodded. "Come back with the fifth."
He left, ready to go find his next mark.
Thragash hated his own weakness.
Sure, he was big. He had the muscle, he knew that. No one could deny raw strength and toughness as he had. Yet, for all his brute force, for all the training he had done to get to this point, he was still weak. He'd just lost to Mokaku. Not just lost...he was made a fool of, barely even touched the troll before he was dropped to the ground with a broken nose. Even now, as Thragash cleaned up the blood he had lost, the pain reminded him of just how badly he had failed.
It wasn't just Mokaku. He, Granger, and Reigen...all people he had fought, and failed. Each time it made him hate himself a little more, curse himself one more time. Mokaku had pitied him, felt sorry for him...and that just made him even angrier at himself. Even now, he just disappointed, himself and others. They claimed to be his friend, but now he felt more alone than ever.
He couldn't give up, though. Not just yet.
---
Thragash hated Hammerfall.
It was an internment camp...his internment camp. He grew up here in these walls, he and his people treated like cattle by uncaring humans. Yet, his people acted like cattle and let it happen. The lethargy was strongest then, a despair and hopelessness that hung over all the orcs imprisoned there. Even as a child, Thragash could feel it himself. He had no good memories of the place. Yet, he found himself here again, reliving those memories and trying to suppress the rage that boiled in him as a result.
He was here for a reason, though. This was his last stop before he delved into dangerous territory, the last safe haven before he went to where he suspected he would find his fifth rune. It had taken a lot of time and many failed routes to find this one, and now he was preparing for his journey. A bit of food for the trip, some rope and climbing gear, and he was ready.
As Thragash left the walls of his former home, he turned and peered back at it. He wasn't even sure why he did it. For a place he despised to much, it was difficult for him to truly turn away...and even harder to forget.
After a moment's reflection, he started to walk again.
---
Thragash hated the Wetlands.
He'd never seen the Wetlands before. They lived up to their name, and he was immediately miserable. To one who had grown accustomed to the dry air of Durotar and the Barrens, the air here felt thick and oppressive. The entire while, he had to avoid angry animals and natives, especially the Alliance that would not be amused by his presence here, at all. The Alliance didn't find him, though. He was going someplace else, someplace far away from the Alliance cities and into the wilderness.
He was headed to Grim Batol.
Well, around that area, anyway. He knew the risks, an orc going to a place surrounded by red dragonkin. He was hoping that he wouldn't have an encounter, as such would be potentially fatal. He wanted to find what he was looking for, and then leave. As he approached the mountain range, he got his rope and climbing gear ready. It wouldn't be an easy climb. Even from here, though, he could feel another rune calling to him, close and yet far away.
Thragash climbed.
Hours passed. His knee, struck by Mokaku at their last bout, was starting to ache. His limbs were tired. He couldn't stop, though. He willed himself to keep climbing, step by step, heave by heave. By the time he reached a more level part of the mountain to take a break, he was already panting for air. It was getting thinner, and he wasn't sure how much further he could go on a bad knee.
Still, he climbed.
He couldn't give up. Not so close to his goal. He could feel it, in the unforgiving mountains surrounding Grim Batol, the peaks that protected the rune like jagged, stone shields. Each step was more difficult, every bend caused his knee to act up worse, as if everything were conspiring to keep him from it.
As he stepped in the midst of the jagged rocks, his leg finally could no longer support him, and he feel to one knee. His breaths were heavy and labored, head bowed. He made it. He could feel the rune beneath him. He wouldn't be able to leave for some time...but he found it: the rune of shielding.
Thragash hated failure. This time, he succeeded.
He slept on the mountain that night, the pain in his knee preventing him from moving. In the morning, it had felt better, though there was still a dull ache that didn't quite go away. He sat for several moments after he awoke, rubbing at that pain and trying to collect himself after the events of the past few days. It was a pain he had to ignore and fight through...he was still in danger, and he didn't want to be caught by the dragonkin that were in the area. Thragash believed that this magic area protected him, but he didn't want to chance things any more than he had to.
The way down the mountain was easier than the way up it, though still rough going. The way down involved a lot of climbing, and Thragash slipped once and managed to injure himself again, though only minorly. He voice a small plea to the spirits to hide him from the dragonkin, before making his way through. He had a close call with a few whelplings, but he managed to hide himself before he was spotted. Once he was free to move again, he was walking slowly towards the north, a limp in his step due to his knee injury. He briefly wondered if something was messed up in that joint, but he decided he didn't have the time to look into it now. He'd have to wait until he made it back to civilization.
So, he walked back to Hammerfall, the last place he really wanted to be.
---
Thragash made his way towards the long wooden staircase in the camp, taking a seat on one of the steps. Rolling up his pant leg, he peered at his knee, bruised and sore. He concentrated, furrowing his brow as he activated one of his runes. He could feel the energy of it working at his injury. It helped only a little, but it was enough for now.
As he made his way to catch a flight back home, he stopped. He turned, staring around at the camp, at what it had become. He was still angry, still hated this place, so he didn't know why he bothered or cared. Yet, he stared, taking one last, final look at the place where he was born, ensuring the vision of it was fixed in his mind.
Then he turned and left.
---
The trip was uneventful. A wyvern and a zeppelin later, and Thragash had returned to Thunder Bluff, armed with the knoweledge of his next rune. No words passed between mentor and student this time. Thragash simply sat, and began to sketch the rune he had seen. Both knew what was expected of them by now, and each went through the motions like a well-rehearsed play. The rune was finished, and then the next part began.
Thragash rolled up his pant leg again, jaw clenching as he prepared for what was coming. His body tensed, muscles sharply bulging beneath his hide as the pain hit him, but he stood firmly and without faltering. The rune was seared onto his skin once more, the mark permanently marking his body.
He had a brief conversation as he left. One more rune to find, but even once he found it, that wouldn't quite be the end. He still had some ways to go, and now he had to practice his actual combat abilities. Still, he learned of what he could do now, the rune of shielding perfect for protecting one from magical attack. As Thragash left, still limping faintly, he peered up at the sky, considering his next move. It was still a long road, but he was getting closer. That, at least, made him determined to keep going.
The bed was far better than he was used to. The floor or a hammock was the most he had hoped for most nights, and part of him was actually more uncomfortable here than if he were outside on the ground.
Thragash found it funny how one event radically shifted his plans. He wanted to return to Stonetalon, but there was other things that occupied his mind. Reigen had been kidnapped and then rescued, but the ordeal had left both her and Krilari weak. He could see the pain in both of them, no matter how they tried to hide it, and it was ultimately concern that led him to volunteer to stay with them for a time, to ensure that there was a pair of strong hands and an able body around at all times with them, at least until they were stronger and had recovered.
Of course, he didn't want them to know that was why he stayed behind. He mumbled some half-truth about wanting to see Outland, and taking some time to remain in one place to concentrate on the physical training he needed. He really didn't have any desire to see Outland, Netherstorm especially unsettled him with its alien atmosphere. Perhaps at least one of them suspected the truth and the real reason he had decided to stay, but it was enough that they let him. This explanation would be easier to swallow for everyone involved.
Thragash turned and started to doze off. He'd need as much rest as he could muster, as it was going to be a long day tomorrow.
---
He went through the form, practicing it again and again. Right punch, block, kick, step back, each motion practiced and fluid as he transitioned from one to the other without pause. To most, it was simple shadow-boxing, but to him it was something more. It kept him focused, it gave him the exercise he needed and let him release some of his energy. He simply wasn't made for the indoors, and not even a day had passed before he found himself outside of the tower to do his training.
He stopped after throwing an imaginary opponent, dropping down to a knee and taking a few breaths. That knee was still bothering him, though it was mostly healed by now. He put a hand over the injury, channeling a little more runic energy into the joint to ease the pain. He'd gotten used to doing that, invoking the power of the healing rune was becoming almost second nature to him by now. He paused as he reflected on that, wondering just how much longer until he was ready.
Then, he started again.
Punches and kicks, throws and blocks, each one practiced. This time, amidst the attacks, he tapped into the runic power again. The blows came faster, his muscles surging with new power as the beast rune's magic flowed through him. He soon incorporated more of his runic abilities into the practice, shielding himself from a magic attack, heightening his awareness before blocking another blow. He continued for some time, not letting himself stop to catch his breath. It wasn't until it felt like his knee was about to give out that he finally dropped back down, panting and wiping sweat from his brow.
As he caught his breath, he peered up at the sky of Netherstorm, though he almost immediately regretted it. It was still unsettling, and after peering at the violet sky, he stood and made his way back inside of the tower, prepared to face the day. He'd no doubt spend much of his time fetching drinks, but he wanted to be useful, even in that small way.
There was always this training to come back to afterwards, after all.
It was days like this that Thragash questioned why he chose to hang around the Lost Minded, out in the Netherstorm.
He tried to go over the events of the day in his head, while resting in his bed and waiting for sleep to come. A failed kidnapping, several fights and arguments, people he had never seen and radical shifts from mercy to cruelty. He was still uncomfortable with some of what transpired, but in the end there was little that he could do to change things. At least, not yet.
At the very least, there was never a dull moment.
Now, though, he was ready to go. He had one more rune to find, and he wasn't going to find it while waiting here in Outland. Reigen and Krilari were on their feet and had recovered amazingly well in a few days, no doubt with the help of magical healing and a good trip outside. Things were starting to look up for everyone involved, and Reigen and Krilari even volunteered to come with him to Stonetalon. Part of him worried about the trip, but he didn't want to seem ungrateful and reject their company. They'd probably manage to make the trip more interesting.
He was already getting a headache thinking about it.
---
The trip itself went by uneventfully. Reigen had a rather...unusual desire to go hug a lion in the Barrens, but for the most part he managed to get to Stonetalon in one piece. It had been some time since he had seen these mountains, and he remembered finding one rune here. Yet, he felt that he had unfinished business here, that there was something more he had to find and see. The runes called to him, beckoned him to come and search for the final piece to the puzzle. He let them come as far as Sun Rock Retreat, but he had to find what he was looking for himself, and the climb would be difficult.
The mountains were still littered with the signs of the war that once took place here. Thragash found himself frowning at the memory, seeing the devastation long ago when the Goresight still wandered this place. Most of the scars have since been cleaned, but even now he saw the wreckage of demolishers and glaive throwers, and the remains of destroyed camps and defensive lines. It all seemed like a senseless waste, a fight over nothing that, in the end, brought everyone back to where they had began.
Now, though, he had to concentrate. He focused himself, feeling for the runic magic beneath the earth, searching outwardly for what he was looking for. His senses where sharper now, his training having made him more aware of the rivers of magic beneath his feet, and before he was even consciously aware of it, his feet were carrying him off, up towards the mountains.
He found himself before a chasm, between a set of cliffs. Curious, he walked in, peering about carefully. No sound reached his ears save for his own steps and the sound of his breathing, no movement in the solid rock of the cliffs. A moment later, and he was given a choice, continue straight, or run right. Peering down both paths, he finally walked right.
So was his journey for what felt like an hour. coming to an intersection, then choosing a path. Occasionally, he found a dead end, having to walk back. His runic sense didn't help, he felt the power beneath him, under each path he took and in every direction. It was like a maze of stone, cliffs imposing like walls. He stopped and peered at the ground, taking a moment to consider where he was. This place, this maze of stone, itself was important.
A parchment out, and he began to draw, going down each path and each time marking his way in a map he made on the fly. It was more than a map, though...it was the rune he was seeking, and each time he turned or stopped, he had to visualize the pattern in his mind, figuring out how it all came together. It took hours of walking and tracing, but he had an idea of what he was doing now. When he finally found himself at the center of this maze, he stopped and peered at the walls that surrounded him, then at the very center...a small pool of water, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Yet, he sat down beside it, taking a drink.
At least he wouldn't go thirsty tonight.
He sat and meditated, looking at the paper he drew on, and felt the runic power flowing beneath him. He had what he needed, a rune with the stone's power itself. Tomorrow, he'd take his leave.
Thragash awoke with a grunt, squinting hard at the sky above himself. It took him several moments to remember where he was and why he was there, and as he sat up he saw the parchment where he had written the rune down. He smirked as he looked at it, standing up as he studied it again. The last rune he needed before he met his master's requirements, and now all he needed to go was get back to Thunder Bluff.
He started to walk, using the rune he had sketched as a map of the natural passages he had found himself in. A thought surfaced in his mind, and he wondered if Reigen and Krilari made it back alright. They were doing well when they parted ways, so he could only assume they did. He made a mental note to check on them when he was finished.
It took almost an hour for him to re-orient himself and finally reach the exit of the great stone maze. As he did, he rolled the parchment up and put it on his belt. He made his way back towards Sun Rock, swelling with pride as he thought of returning to the Bluff, completing his main task and how he'd finally earned the last rune he needed. He'd go up and get the last tattoo at Thunder Bluff, and then he would be one step closer to being a true Runemaster.
Then his stomach growled. All of that could wait until after breakfast.
---
He rubbed his leg, wincing at the pain of the mark that was branded on his green skin. It still smarted.
It was done, he had the final rune. Yet...he wasn't finished. There was one more thing he had to do...he had to defeat the one who trained him.
Standing, he walked back to a clear spot on the bluff, taking a deep breath. He started up his practice again, his brow furrowed with intense concentration. It only took a couple of rune activations before the pain in his leg made him wince and stop again, growling low in his throat. It would be a while before that pain would go away entirely, and until then he simply had to live with it. For right now, that meant he had to relax. He instead started walking back towards the wind rider, pondering his next move.
He was better now, far stronger than he had been when he started. If he thought about it, he was amazed at himself, at how far he had already gotten. He'd learned so many runes, and had strengthened his fighting skills far beyond the simple brawler that he was at first. He was a true fighter now, a warrior in his own right, and he'd gotten so much stronger...but he still wasn't strong enough. Before he intended on challenging the tauren who trained and marked him, he had to push himself even further, and reach a new height.
There was only one way to get stronger. That was to fight, to practice, and to lift heavy objects. Thragash definitely could do the last one.
---
Filling a backpack with heavy rocks and carrying it around wasn't necessarily the smartest idea Thragash ever came up with, but it was exercise. He grunted as he plodded along, each step carrying him closer towards his goal. He had to check up on his friends, after all, and the tower was still some distance away.
Friends...
He wondered when he would see Lirshar and the rest of the Goresight Vanguard again. He wanted to return to them victorious, to prove that he had the strength and the will to see this through. A little more time, and he might have it...
Failure wasn't an option here.
Memories came back to him, the vision that Farseer Stormcaller made him endure. Coming back to the Vanguard, praised as a hero...and all of that crashing down with one mistake, one flaw that undid everything, costing him his strength and the lives of those around him. It was a warning, or perhaps a test of his resolve...and it had tested him sorely. Even now, months later, the vision still haunted him...but it also urged him on. He would prove that vision wrong.
He stood, and went back on his way.
The time was upon him, the moment he had been training for all this time. Everything that he had done over these months, the work and the exploration, the meditation and the study, all came together at this moment. Everything came down to what he was about to do.
Even as he finally reached Thunder Bluff, the encouragement of Reigen, Krilari, and Merewen was still in his ears. Relon only provided a simple suggestion, "Don't lose." So many people were cheering for him, and he had put so much into this training, that he didn't dare let himself think of failure. He had to win and give it his all. Thragash tried to calm his nerves as he made his way to the home of his trainer. As he finally stepped inside, he nodded down to the tauren within, who returned the nod with a kindly smile.
"You have returned, Thragash. You're ready, then?"
The orc nodded, his brow furrowed as he turned and made his way outside. Both knew what was going to happen next, but he spoke anyway as they made their way to the clearing where they had battled once before. "I'm ready." He rewound the bandages around his hands as he walked, tightening his fists and then relaxing them.
The tauren simply nodded, remaining silent for a short time until he spoke once more, "You've...grown since I saw you last. I can see the strength in you, both physical and inside. You've definitely been improving since you first stepped foot inside my home." He paused as they finally arrived, each taking a spot opposite of the other. The tauren watched his opponent for a silent moment longer, "I want you to know, whatever the resolution here...you've come a long way. This is just a test, to see if you've really learned all that you have been taught. Do your best." The tauren clenched his fists with a nod.
Thragash returned that nod, his brow furrowing as he prepared himself. His knees bent, his hands tightening to fists, one foot forward and one foot perpendicular back. The runes on his body flared to life, glowing a pale silver, as he concentrated on them...his skin became tougher, his fists harder, his senses sharper, and his muscles stronger. His jaw clenched and his gaze focused on the tauren with determination, "I won't lose."
He charged.
The fight was something to behold, two being glowing with the power of their runes. Punches and kicks, each met by a block or a dodge, throws that were wrestled out of and countered. Thragash wasn't even thinking, he was simply acting on instinct and muscle memory, moving in similar manner to all of the practices and forms he had gone through before. Even his activating of the runes was starting to turn instinctual, opening each pattern to let magic flow in without consciously thinking about it. The fight continued for some time, and Thragash was starting to tire from the exertion. Then, he saw an opening, and he punched.
Just like that, the fight was over.
The tauren, the man he had looked up to all this time, had been knocked onto his rump, blinking from the attack that not even he had seen. Thragash panted, muscles tense as he waited for his opponent to stand, but a simple hand-signal to cease made Thragash relax. The tauren stood, rubbing at his chest where the orc's fist connected. "Hah! Didn't see that one coming."
Thragash blinked, but he nodded numbly. The whole situation suddenly felt very surreal.
Nonetheless, the tauren clopped closer, and patted Thragash on the shoulder. "You've done well, and have learned everything I can teach you. But...there's still more to learn. Never forget...you'll be sharpening your skills for the rest of your life."
"Now...go on then...Runemaster."