08-23-2010, 03:03 PM
The heat of the barrens, near sweltering to this elderly orc of 72. His hut, built with the aid and brilliance of several Tauren. Standing alone, gazing out at the terrain in the shadow of his new home, Murkthralog sighed. His adopted child most likely dead or worse somewhere, the Bloodsworn being led astray by a crazed leader, and his memories fading back into conciseness once more.
Watching the wildlife graze around the few trees there are near his hut, Murk though to himself of ways to be rid of his memories of past wars and conflicts. In years past he found that meditating like the Shaman's of Old and New helps to ease his mind's burden, from the sights he relives daily. Using the small confines of his hut, he sat down to think.
The memories had come again, namely violent ones from the sacking of Stormwind and the slaughter of it's peoples. Stressing himself to the brink of exhaustion Murk tried to keep such horrid thoughts at bay. He must focus on the coming situations.
The Bloodsworn still needed a leader, not this blasted Thurgash who leads them now. A crazed leader who was willing to bring the burdens of the old into the minds of the young, to make them experience what Murk once had. Sighing once more Murk stood.
"I will not allow this fool to be the end of me or Kathorg or the Bloodsworn. I'll never be able to take him down, one on one. I must get the Honorguard themselves to side with me against this crazed fool." he grunted out. He walked outside the hut to watch the sun fade past the horizon, then it hit him like a tidal wave.
Years ago, on Draenor, the memories of the Draenei and their suffering pained him. He could do nothing but relive this thought, the sight of himself and other Orc Warriors of his clan hunting down Draenei made him sick. Forcing this painful memory to pass, Murk carved into his arm the orc word of "Forgiveness". Countless other similar marks bear the same places among his arms.
The memory faded with the last pass of the blade, and Murkthralog the supposed "Man-Slayer" collapsed to the ground, writhing from his arm and mind. He was going to have to find a way to end these or his time with the living would end in only a few short months. So many memories would come to him, sleeping and with his waking eyes.
Passing out into space and time, a Troll came upon the camp. He moved Murk inside the hut and started a camp fire outside for warmth and to ward off the Thunderbeasts that came close for the vegetation near the hut. Hours Murk slept, hours this Troll sat by to keep an eye on him.
In the morning, when the sun rose once more to it's rightful place in the sky, Murk too awoke. "Goo' ting ya be wakin' up ole mon. I be tinkin' joo died in da night." the troll said. "I dun come back from da City. I not been able ta talk to da Wahluhd." He stood upon and started to roast plainstrider meat on a stick over the fire outside.
Murk sat up, rubbing his side and neck. The sounds of bones popping back into place filled the air in a short ensemble for just a moment. "Then I have another task for you, Jimana. I need you to find the Far Seer of the Honorguard, and it's Warmasters. Tell them of the same message. I must collect the leadership to aid me. I would not deal with Kartu, however. He has been.. elsewhere. Can you do this?" He stood to embrace the sun beaming over the mountains.
Jimana sighed and cut off a chunk of roasted plainstrider and handed it to Murk and then did the same for himself. "Sure mon, I be doin' much fo' joo. But da way joo tell me tings I gotta help. So da Fah Seah, and da Wahmastahs. Soundin' good. Wheh dey at?"
Murk swallowed a bite of meat, he looked out at the Mountains again. "The Far Seer will most likely be in the Azshara Crater, as she is a member of the Earthshaker Clan. The Warmasters will probably be in Orgrimmar to help with this new 'Warlord'," he spits at the thought. "I want them to know of what I am doing and plan to do. Do this and I will pay you then."
Shrugging and finishing his meal, Jimana stood and grabbed his bag of spears and nodded at Murkthralog before running off northbound. Murk sat there again, alone with only himself and his thoughts. Hopefully the Troll would stay true to his word and contact the Warmasters and Far Seer.
(More coming. And by the way. In before Mankrik's Wife jokes as that is the hut I am using.)
Watching the wildlife graze around the few trees there are near his hut, Murk though to himself of ways to be rid of his memories of past wars and conflicts. In years past he found that meditating like the Shaman's of Old and New helps to ease his mind's burden, from the sights he relives daily. Using the small confines of his hut, he sat down to think.
The memories had come again, namely violent ones from the sacking of Stormwind and the slaughter of it's peoples. Stressing himself to the brink of exhaustion Murk tried to keep such horrid thoughts at bay. He must focus on the coming situations.
The Bloodsworn still needed a leader, not this blasted Thurgash who leads them now. A crazed leader who was willing to bring the burdens of the old into the minds of the young, to make them experience what Murk once had. Sighing once more Murk stood.
"I will not allow this fool to be the end of me or Kathorg or the Bloodsworn. I'll never be able to take him down, one on one. I must get the Honorguard themselves to side with me against this crazed fool." he grunted out. He walked outside the hut to watch the sun fade past the horizon, then it hit him like a tidal wave.
Years ago, on Draenor, the memories of the Draenei and their suffering pained him. He could do nothing but relive this thought, the sight of himself and other Orc Warriors of his clan hunting down Draenei made him sick. Forcing this painful memory to pass, Murk carved into his arm the orc word of "Forgiveness". Countless other similar marks bear the same places among his arms.
The memory faded with the last pass of the blade, and Murkthralog the supposed "Man-Slayer" collapsed to the ground, writhing from his arm and mind. He was going to have to find a way to end these or his time with the living would end in only a few short months. So many memories would come to him, sleeping and with his waking eyes.
Passing out into space and time, a Troll came upon the camp. He moved Murk inside the hut and started a camp fire outside for warmth and to ward off the Thunderbeasts that came close for the vegetation near the hut. Hours Murk slept, hours this Troll sat by to keep an eye on him.
In the morning, when the sun rose once more to it's rightful place in the sky, Murk too awoke. "Goo' ting ya be wakin' up ole mon. I be tinkin' joo died in da night." the troll said. "I dun come back from da City. I not been able ta talk to da Wahluhd." He stood upon and started to roast plainstrider meat on a stick over the fire outside.
Murk sat up, rubbing his side and neck. The sounds of bones popping back into place filled the air in a short ensemble for just a moment. "Then I have another task for you, Jimana. I need you to find the Far Seer of the Honorguard, and it's Warmasters. Tell them of the same message. I must collect the leadership to aid me. I would not deal with Kartu, however. He has been.. elsewhere. Can you do this?" He stood to embrace the sun beaming over the mountains.
Jimana sighed and cut off a chunk of roasted plainstrider and handed it to Murk and then did the same for himself. "Sure mon, I be doin' much fo' joo. But da way joo tell me tings I gotta help. So da Fah Seah, and da Wahmastahs. Soundin' good. Wheh dey at?"
Murk swallowed a bite of meat, he looked out at the Mountains again. "The Far Seer will most likely be in the Azshara Crater, as she is a member of the Earthshaker Clan. The Warmasters will probably be in Orgrimmar to help with this new 'Warlord'," he spits at the thought. "I want them to know of what I am doing and plan to do. Do this and I will pay you then."
Shrugging and finishing his meal, Jimana stood and grabbed his bag of spears and nodded at Murkthralog before running off northbound. Murk sat there again, alone with only himself and his thoughts. Hopefully the Troll would stay true to his word and contact the Warmasters and Far Seer.
(More coming. And by the way. In before Mankrik's Wife jokes as that is the hut I am using.)
Do you have what it takes to join the Fighting Blues?
Do you have what it takes to defend your homeland?
Will you stand up in defense of the innocent? The weak?
Will you stand up in defense of Justice and the Law?
Do you have what it takes to defend your homeland?
Will you stand up in defense of the innocent? The weak?
Will you stand up in defense of Justice and the Law?