Conquest of the Horde

The rain was coming down so heavily that Mochla couldn't tell the difference between the drops and her own tears. The corpses of enemies lay strewn about the battlefield in piles, and among them was one friend. Her feet slid over the muddy ground as she made her way towards him, every step becoming a heavy plop. The ground was slick now, and the thunder overhead was howling in a way that she could not. She was numb, so close to being unable to feel anything at all. Of course there were a few tears, but were they because of emotion or just some instinctive reaction to death?

She reached his side and knelt down upon the ground, not caring that her legs, feet, and knees were covered in some morbid combination of Earth and Blood. His Orgrimmar tabard was tattered from the battle, and blood stained his body in multiple places so heavily that even the rain could not fully wash it away. It had taken more than one wound to force him to the ground. She reached out with a gentle hand to stroke his cheek, but her limbs felt so heavy. Her hand shook from the effort and eventually fell back in place at her side.

“I knew this day would come,” she whispered as she draped herself across him protectively. Somewhere nearby she could hear yelling.

“Get up Mochla! Hurry! It's coming back!”
“Farseer! Watch out!”
“Come on, Stormcaller! Get out of there!”

All the voices were so urgent that they blended together. She couldn't tell who they belonged to and everything seemed to be moving so slowly around her. She lifted her head from the chest of the fallen warrior and peered forward into the storm to see -it-.

Its eyes were glowing, and its flesh was some reddish-brown color as though it paid tribute to the one emotion that this creature could feel. Rage and ferocity. Hate. Spikes protruded from its back and arms, and as it got up from the ground it let out a barbaric cry. It was a behemoth of a creature, more so than the corpses of similar beasts that littered the ground around her now. Stooping low, it moved to grab its lost weapons before it stood straight again. In one hand was a crude iron sword that was curved at one end. In the other hand was a long spiky chain that he was busy wrapping around his fist and arm. Once it was prepared for battle its eyes scanned the macabre field for the remnants of living creatures. Mochla was closest and so the beast began to charge in her direction.

Mochla leaned down to kiss the fallen Warrior's cheek as her free hand picked up her staff. She clutched it tightly and stared forward at the charging monster while rising to her feet.

“Let it be that we see who is the stronger of the two of us. This Warrior chose the time of his passing, but this is not my time to fall. There is yet much to live for.”

Her words were met only with crazed yells as the creature drew nearer. It seemed to be foaming at the mouth with eager thoughts of drawing her blood. Mochla merely narrowed her eyes and pointed her staff straight ahead as she began her slow but steady pace into the path of the monster.





...Back in Azshara Crater, Mochla awoke in her bed of furs. Cold sweat had collected upon her brow that was heavier now with lines of worry than ever it had been. Using her forearm she wiped her face clear of gathered concern and looked to the side at her sleeping mate. Drumgar Bloodpaw: Arena Master, Gladiator, and Champion of the Earthshaker Clan, was soon going to fall for good. It had been his body in that field of foes that she had clung to. She could recognize his face even through the carnage and gore.

Mochla wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. Thus was the curse of great foresight cast upon her. Try as she might, there would be no stopping it this time. His time had come. There was no changing destiny, no rearranging the strands of fate and time. That was not within her power as much as she might have wanted it. Next to her, Drumgar stirred. Seeing his mate awake he sat up to join her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Mochla? Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“No, my love, it was all just dreams.”

“ Were they visions? Have you seen anything important?”

Mochla hesitated as she turned to look Drumgar in the eyes. “No, nothing. I love you.”

“And I you, now come back to bed.” Drumgar placed one of his large arms about her and pulled her back down so that she could rest her head upon his chest.

The mighty warrior was quick to sleep again, but Mochla tarried warily in consciousness. She could not bring herself to tell Drumgar of what was to befall. He was so proud, and always had he defied the odds. To tell him that his death was inevitable would only infuriate him. She could give him only this one last gift. He would fight hard like he always had, and he would die gloriously. No doom or prophecy would cast a cloud of doubt over his eyes. She would not tarnish his last battle with these things. She owed him that much.

No one could know that his end would soon come, and no one could know the sorrow that now swelled in her heart. His children would never come to know him save for in stories and tales of his heroic deeds, and neither would they be taught the art of battle from him. Mochla would do these things herself as best she could with the help of the other Earthshakers.

Weakness. She thought she had rid herself of it as she explored this path of power and honor; but it was still there. With all her strength and knowledge, she could truly not move the powers of the world. And that was the most fiercely humbling realization of all. In all her pain and sadness, only one truth remained to her. No matter how much she tried to be stoic and distant from emotional connections, and accept that all things live and die; she would miss him. What would happen when he was gone? Would she lose all those feelings that she had finally come to gain, would they vanish along with him? But of these things the Spirits were silent. Mochla had only her memories and her thoughts to keep her company as she fell slowly into restless sleep.

Farewell, love. May the final words from your lips be Lok'tar Ogar as you vowed all those years ago.