09-12-2012, 11:39 AM
(I love my IC threads. New character time. This is, obviously, in the past.)
The camps were no place to grow up. They would breed no proud warriors, no honorable continuations of the orcish culture. Only bitterness and resentment, anger and scars, would come from those cages.
And, as she would so many other times, Rekka both met and failed the expectations laid out for her.
Karta was Warsong; imprisonment or no, guards or no, her daughter was not going to have her heritage and pride stolen by their human captors. “This ain't gonna be your life,” she said, shaking Rekka's chin gently. “You'll be more than this. We won't be in here forever, and when we get out, I'll show ya our home.” Her eyes left Rekka's face, scanning through the crowd of listless, dull eyes, until they settled on the one pair looking back at her.
Her gaze locked with the one they called Angermaw.
Karta watched him as she ran her fingers through Rekka's hair. “And I'll bring your dad, too.” She smiled down at her attentive little girl. “He's not sure he wants to. But he will. Don't you ever let anyone tell you 'no' when you want somethin', ya hear? Nothin's gonna be outta yer reach.” Rekka nodded, and Karta ruffled her child's hair again. “We got so much ta show ya once we get outta here.” She waved a hand, encompassing the crowd of despondent orcs, the patrolling human guards, and the hated, suffocating walls of the camp. “Can't say what's left of Draenor now,” she continued, “but there's a whole new world to see here. We carved a chunk of it for ourselves once, and we'll do it again. You mark my words, Rekks, 'cause you're gonna be there when it happens.”
Rekka watched her intently, hanging onto every word with the adoration and hero worship reserved only for the parents of young children. “You'n me, momma?” She asked, anxious, still unable to imagine a world without her mother.
A world that would soon be hers.
Karta squeezed her daughter against her side tightly. “You'n me, Rekks,” she said, eyes straying to Angermaw again, “you, me, and-”
Karta cut off with a muted snarl as the whip cracked across her back, sending her staggering forward and dragging Rekka with her protectively. She turned, baring her teeth at the human who stood behind her.
Kalen gaze her the nasty grin she hated so much, flicking the heavy whip lazily. “What's that, beast?” He asked, tone mocking and derisive, “making vacation plans with your little brat? What've I told ya about thinking?”
Karta opened her mouth to reply, to snarl something at her constant tormentor, when Rekka pushed by her, baring her little fangs in imitation of her mother. “Rekka-”
“Don'chu hit ma momma,” Rekka growled, the sound too high-pitched (to say nothing of the source) to be intimidating, “or I'm gonna-”
Without so much as batting an eye, Kalen cracked the whip at Rekka's face. The girl didn't even have a chance to flinch before Karta was in front of her, grunting as the damnable whip tore her midriff open. She staggered but remained standing, interposed between her daughter and the human guard that hated them so.
“You're quick, beast,” Kalen commented, tone casual...then he snapped the whip again, lashing her viciously. “That's for getting in front of me,” he continued as Karta grunted again, glaring at him. “Now look down. You and your filthy kind aren't fit to even look at us.”
Karta stared at him fearlessly, gaze unwavering even as she silently pushed Rekka behind her. Kalen grinned his terrible grin, and the uncaring cruelty in his eyes scared Karta.
But not for her own sake.
“Get down on the ground where you belong, beast,” Kalen said softly, “or I'll take your lashes out of your brat's face.”
And that was the only thing that would make Karta Bloodhowl, warrior of the Warsong, back down.
After a long moment, Karta broke her stare, looking away from the maliciously pleased human, and sinking to her knees in the dirt, head down and the weight of shame heavy on her.
Kalen stepped closer, and Karta tensed. “I guess animals can learn,” Kalen said softly. “Watch yourself, b***h. How do you think it'll feel, to watch your brat die?”
Karta bared her teeth, growling deep in the back of her throat, but did not rise to the bait.
“What, you don't like that? Well, that's really just too bad, isn't it?” His voice roughened. “You don't get to choose, you filthy animal. Beasts do as they're told...” He pressed the handle of the whip into the back of her neck, pushing hard. “...or it's the slaughterhouse for them. Which is it going to be, b***h?”
Karta could have easily shattered his wrist, twisted the whip around and broken his neck before any other guards could reach her. A myriad ways to kill her tormentor swam through her mind...but she caught sight of Rekka out of the corner of her eye, her daughter's hands clenched into fists...
...And Karta, face burning with shame and humiliation, allowed Kalen to shove her face down into the dirt.
“There you go, beast. Feel better, being back where you belong?” Kalen's mocking voice almost made her reconsider, but Karta knew she couldn't. She remained silent.
“Much better,” the human said, satisfied, and dealt her a vicious blow along the back of the head with the whip's heavy handle, sending her sprawling as he stalked away. Rekka was at her side a moment later, the child's worried face rippling faintly in Karta's vision. She hugged her daughter tightly, and the girl buried her face in Karta's chest.
“M'tellin' you, Rekks,” she murmured, stroking the girl's head soothingly even as her head pounded, “we won't be in here forever. I promise.” She took Rekka's face in her hands. “Look at me, Rekks.” The girl did, and Karta squeezed her gently. “Don't you ever let anyone push you around, ya hear me? No one's better than you, and you knock'em down if they act like it. Don't you back down from anyone. Your name's Rekka'nar; it's a strong name, a warrior's name. You're gonna be a real piece'a work some day, Rekks, and no'un's gonna want to tangle with you. Ya hear me, girl?”
Rekka nodded. “Ya, momma.”
“You're gonna do big things, I know it.”
The girl was silent a moment. “You gonna be proud of me when I'm tough like you, momma?”
Karta drew Rekka against her and hugged her tightly. “Yeah, Rekks. I'm always proud'a you. You're a real good kid, and I'll get ya outta here. I promise.”
And as her daughter snuggled contentedly in her arms and blood oozed down her back, Karta wondered how many of those promises she could keep.
The camps were no place to grow up. They would breed no proud warriors, no honorable continuations of the orcish culture. Only bitterness and resentment, anger and scars, would come from those cages.
And, as she would so many other times, Rekka both met and failed the expectations laid out for her.
Karta was Warsong; imprisonment or no, guards or no, her daughter was not going to have her heritage and pride stolen by their human captors. “This ain't gonna be your life,” she said, shaking Rekka's chin gently. “You'll be more than this. We won't be in here forever, and when we get out, I'll show ya our home.” Her eyes left Rekka's face, scanning through the crowd of listless, dull eyes, until they settled on the one pair looking back at her.
Her gaze locked with the one they called Angermaw.
Karta watched him as she ran her fingers through Rekka's hair. “And I'll bring your dad, too.” She smiled down at her attentive little girl. “He's not sure he wants to. But he will. Don't you ever let anyone tell you 'no' when you want somethin', ya hear? Nothin's gonna be outta yer reach.” Rekka nodded, and Karta ruffled her child's hair again. “We got so much ta show ya once we get outta here.” She waved a hand, encompassing the crowd of despondent orcs, the patrolling human guards, and the hated, suffocating walls of the camp. “Can't say what's left of Draenor now,” she continued, “but there's a whole new world to see here. We carved a chunk of it for ourselves once, and we'll do it again. You mark my words, Rekks, 'cause you're gonna be there when it happens.”
Rekka watched her intently, hanging onto every word with the adoration and hero worship reserved only for the parents of young children. “You'n me, momma?” She asked, anxious, still unable to imagine a world without her mother.
A world that would soon be hers.
Karta squeezed her daughter against her side tightly. “You'n me, Rekks,” she said, eyes straying to Angermaw again, “you, me, and-”
Karta cut off with a muted snarl as the whip cracked across her back, sending her staggering forward and dragging Rekka with her protectively. She turned, baring her teeth at the human who stood behind her.
Kalen gaze her the nasty grin she hated so much, flicking the heavy whip lazily. “What's that, beast?” He asked, tone mocking and derisive, “making vacation plans with your little brat? What've I told ya about thinking?”
Karta opened her mouth to reply, to snarl something at her constant tormentor, when Rekka pushed by her, baring her little fangs in imitation of her mother. “Rekka-”
“Don'chu hit ma momma,” Rekka growled, the sound too high-pitched (to say nothing of the source) to be intimidating, “or I'm gonna-”
Without so much as batting an eye, Kalen cracked the whip at Rekka's face. The girl didn't even have a chance to flinch before Karta was in front of her, grunting as the damnable whip tore her midriff open. She staggered but remained standing, interposed between her daughter and the human guard that hated them so.
“You're quick, beast,” Kalen commented, tone casual...then he snapped the whip again, lashing her viciously. “That's for getting in front of me,” he continued as Karta grunted again, glaring at him. “Now look down. You and your filthy kind aren't fit to even look at us.”
Karta stared at him fearlessly, gaze unwavering even as she silently pushed Rekka behind her. Kalen grinned his terrible grin, and the uncaring cruelty in his eyes scared Karta.
But not for her own sake.
“Get down on the ground where you belong, beast,” Kalen said softly, “or I'll take your lashes out of your brat's face.”
And that was the only thing that would make Karta Bloodhowl, warrior of the Warsong, back down.
After a long moment, Karta broke her stare, looking away from the maliciously pleased human, and sinking to her knees in the dirt, head down and the weight of shame heavy on her.
Kalen stepped closer, and Karta tensed. “I guess animals can learn,” Kalen said softly. “Watch yourself, b***h. How do you think it'll feel, to watch your brat die?”
Karta bared her teeth, growling deep in the back of her throat, but did not rise to the bait.
“What, you don't like that? Well, that's really just too bad, isn't it?” His voice roughened. “You don't get to choose, you filthy animal. Beasts do as they're told...” He pressed the handle of the whip into the back of her neck, pushing hard. “...or it's the slaughterhouse for them. Which is it going to be, b***h?”
Karta could have easily shattered his wrist, twisted the whip around and broken his neck before any other guards could reach her. A myriad ways to kill her tormentor swam through her mind...but she caught sight of Rekka out of the corner of her eye, her daughter's hands clenched into fists...
...And Karta, face burning with shame and humiliation, allowed Kalen to shove her face down into the dirt.
“There you go, beast. Feel better, being back where you belong?” Kalen's mocking voice almost made her reconsider, but Karta knew she couldn't. She remained silent.
“Much better,” the human said, satisfied, and dealt her a vicious blow along the back of the head with the whip's heavy handle, sending her sprawling as he stalked away. Rekka was at her side a moment later, the child's worried face rippling faintly in Karta's vision. She hugged her daughter tightly, and the girl buried her face in Karta's chest.
“M'tellin' you, Rekks,” she murmured, stroking the girl's head soothingly even as her head pounded, “we won't be in here forever. I promise.” She took Rekka's face in her hands. “Look at me, Rekks.” The girl did, and Karta squeezed her gently. “Don't you ever let anyone push you around, ya hear me? No one's better than you, and you knock'em down if they act like it. Don't you back down from anyone. Your name's Rekka'nar; it's a strong name, a warrior's name. You're gonna be a real piece'a work some day, Rekks, and no'un's gonna want to tangle with you. Ya hear me, girl?”
Rekka nodded. “Ya, momma.”
“You're gonna do big things, I know it.”
The girl was silent a moment. “You gonna be proud of me when I'm tough like you, momma?”
Karta drew Rekka against her and hugged her tightly. “Yeah, Rekks. I'm always proud'a you. You're a real good kid, and I'll get ya outta here. I promise.”
And as her daughter snuggled contentedly in her arms and blood oozed down her back, Karta wondered how many of those promises she could keep.