The Whims of the Storm

[ChampionMouse]

The Price of Good Intentions

Mochla sat hunched over the parchment before her, her large hand clutching at a delicate quill that felt so foreign in her grasp. It was but a feather, and her hands had brought an end to things far more challenging and worthy. No words had yet been written upon the open scroll, and in truth, the position of the quill did not bode well for imminent progress. With a heavy sigh she lifted her hand and brought the quill in front of her face, studying it with uncharacteristically agitated eyes.

What would you have me write for my children…? What could I possibly tell them that they do not already know?

Her shoulders would droop even as she asked herself this question, and she’d lower her hand until both it, and the quill, were pressed flat and firmly against the table.

They want to know why we keep so many secrets, of course. But where to start? Sometimes a habit becomes such a part of you that it is difficult to discern where it truly began or why it continued…

She’d grunt softly and leave the quill on the table as she reached for her staff that was propped up against the back wall. Once in hand, she’d tap the end of it against the floor and use it to pull herself up onto her bare feet. She moved slowly, deliberately making sure that no motion was wasted. It was a burden on her old bones to waste energy on unintentional gestures. Her heavy padded footsteps would bring her outside of a small hut, and she’d take the time to breathe in nice and slow.

The world is changing now. You have to trust those young pups to do what is right, and they will need all the knowledge and wisdom you can provide for them. Your silence has only served to wound your Son. He is your blood, and you cannot even open up to him? When has inaction or silence ever been the best path?

Mochla’s fist tightened around the staff, and she grimaced before making her way over to the edge of the cliffs outside her hut. The view here was nice and familiar, and allowed her to look down on the Earthshaker camp below. The Grunts were standing at their posts as they usually were; always vigilant in their duty. Several of the off duty Elites had placed themselves around the bonfire and were sitting down to a drink and hot meal where they would inevitably exchange jovial tales of their younger days. It was tempting to join them, and had she not been struggling with her desire to sit down and write out her thoughts, she probably would have made her way down the dirt path that led into the lower camp.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of an idle breeze on her face. There had been a time when she preferred wandering to staying in any place for too long, but this place had changed all of that. The smells, the sights; everything here had become an important part of what was dear to her. The pleasant scent of dry earth and smoke from the fire below lingered in the air. She breathed in slowly through her nose to enjoy the scent when she heard the sounds of light footsteps behind her. She didn’t turn her head to see who it was, and remained very still as she spoke.

“Krol’tok Tempestfury…what brings you out, old friend?”

Krol’tok, a shaman that looked older than Mochla herself, would hobble up beside her. His stringy white hair was a bit ruffled, and his calm weary eyes betrayed his sleeplessness. He had a wooden pipe clenched between his teeth, which he removed as Mochla questioned him.

“I could hardly find peace in my meditations. You’ve been walking between your hut and these cliffs all day. Something is troubling you. You are unwell and restless, even as the Spirits themselves.” His voice was deep and solid, and the timbre quality hardly matched up with what his visage had become in his old age. He seemed so unassuming, a friendly and gentle old Orc, but there was more to Krol’tok Tempestfury and Mochla knew it well.

“I did not mean to disturb you. I have been looking for answers on the horizon, and nothing comes.” Mochla finally opened her eyes, and her stern gaze would settle upon the ground to avoid the brighter light of the sun.

“That is the danger of our profession,” Krol’tok began, taking a long puff from his pipe. “We often look to the distant horizon for our answers, and not anything else. The things in front of us become lost time and time again. How dangerous it is to glimpse the future while forgetting to live. I taught you that once.”

“What are you saying, friend? That I have forgotten what is important in the present?” Mochla tilted her head, and her eyes lifted from the ground. She turned to regard him with curiosity.

“No, no. Nothing like that. Think on what you are doing out here, Stormcaller. What were you doing just as I happened upon you?” He’d exhale slowly, forming tiny smoke rings with his mouth and breath.

“I was finding peace…enjoying the scents of the campfire.”

“Exactly. You were coming out to appreciate something that was close to you in the here and now. You did not forget what was important, you just looked past it because you thought it could not provide you the answers you sought. Comfort, yes, but answers?” Krol’tok chuckled to himself, and he’d give her a wry old grin. “How does that old saying go again? Wisdom and guidance can be found in the smallest of things, not only the greatest. There are always lessons to be learned.”

“Then…it is not the future I should look to for aid, but the love I have for my home and family?”

“It sounds like you are asking me a question when you have already formed an idea in your mind as to what the answer may be.” Krol’tok chuckled again, tapping the end of his pipe with his thumb. “You always do that, Mochla. Second guessing yourself when you should stand tall with whatever decision you have made. I could never break you of that habit, no matter how hard you tried to hide it from the younger ones.”

Mochla would fold her arms over her chest and smirk.

“You are my mentor for a reason. Always so astute in your observations. I will…heed your advice to the best of my ability.”

“So you are going to go finish it then?” Krol’tok motioned back towards Mochla’s hut.

“No. I am going to start.” She smiled and bowed her head respectfully.

“As good a time as any, Stormcaller.” He’d bow his head in kind, waving her off with as polite a dismissive gesture as he could manage.

Mochla turned back from the cliffs and led herself back to the hut with the aid of her staff. She looked around at the walls of her modest home, studying every fur and every pot under that roof. She nodded determinedly and shuffled back to the table where she planted herself down on a stool. She placed her staff back against the wall and lifted the quill to dab it into the shallow inkwell. She’d rub her chin before eventually placing the tip of the quill to the parchment and making some notes.

Dearest children,

It is not great vision that guides my pen now, but my love of you. I know things have been challenging and difficult, and I wish I could say that they will only get easier. But I did not raise you to be weak, nor do I count myself a liar and a hopeful optimist. Things are hard, and they may stay hard. What I do not doubt, however, is that you will find a way to hold your heads high and triumph over whatever obstacles you face. You are dignified members of the Horde, and my kin. I know you will do me proud.

My life has brought you both trouble and personal hurt, and I acknowledge this. I have kept my secrets all these years because, I suppose, I did not want to acknowledge my own personal failings and weaknesses. That is how I saw it. I wanted, as all parents do, for you to see me as an unwavering source of strength in your lives. It was not my place to burden you with personal feelings and uncontrolled sentiment.

The mistakes I have made, and the passions I have shared on my own time were never meant to hurt you. I thought that by keeping my secrets I could spare you pain, not add to it. I was wrong. Grakor, you once asked me why it was that I could not explain these things to Lirshar and you. I will finally admit to you, my children, and you alone, that it was because I was afraid. I was truly afraid to let you know my flaws. Again, I have no one left in this world to share my heart with save for my children, and to have you know me as well as I know myself frightened me. If my children were ashamed of my mistakes and turned away, who would I have left? But I did not write this letter for your pity, I wrote it so that you would understand me. That is what you’ve always wanted, I know. My walls and my detached nature never let you in close.

In truth, I think it started when I was younger and just beginning to seriously walk the path of Shamanism. My blue eyes were the catalyst, and my Elders would always tell me that I had a great destiny ahead of me. That is a lot for any young Orc to handle. We are prideful and full of ourselves, not to mention full of enthusiasm for the great changes we might bring to the world at that age. I felt good back then, and I was foolish because of it. I think I believed that I was nigh invincible, and so my impulsive nature took over. It was a nature I learned from my own mother, but, one that neither of you have copied fortunately. You, Grakor, share my cryptic ways and love of riddles. And Lirshar has my wanderlust and stubbornness. But neither of you has ever, to my knowledge anyway, erroneously shared your physical passions with another to just…feel close to them.

My destiny made me feel isolated from the rest of our people. I felt that there were expectations that I had to constantly adhere to. I was never able to be myself, to make jokes or to laugh out of turn without someone’s eyes being upon me. I felt trapped, and judged. It was because of this, that I found solace in the arms of another. That would be your Father, Lirshar. My relationship with him was not meant to be an extended one. We were both in need of closeness, and we found it in one another for a night or so before moving on.

When your inevitable birth was made clear to me, I was scolded. Granted the anger was short lived, but…it was still there and I could feel it when they looked at me, both my parents and my mentors. Again, the scrutiny over my small decisions felt magnified because of that burden I felt I carried on my shoulders. I never apologized, being prideful and all, but I did make sure that I did my best to raise you and protect your Father from judgment too. I never thought it would be fair to have my actions reflect on the rest of you. I wanted to take sole responsibility for my actions, as I thought it should be. I hope that clears some things up between us and you can understand that I am protecting another’s Honor.

As for you, Grakor, things with your Father were different. For the first time in my life, I thought I was in love. It was after Lirshar had wandered off and been taken to the Internment Camps. I thought I had lost her for good, when this stranger appeared. I welcomed him into my home and let him stay for as long as he liked. We grew close, as two people living together might over a period of several months. But like me, he had his secrets and would not divulge them to me. One day, he up and left, and though I never admitted it aloud…I was heartbroken. I honestly never saw him again until the day he appeared in Azshara Crater to check on you, Grakor. And to this day, he cannot give me the details of what kept him away, and what prevented him from staying either time he came to visit. He seems to think that his staying would put our lives in danger and that he is doing us some kind of service by remaining distant. At this point, I do not think I have it in me to argue with his logic. He left once, and my feelings have slowly dwindled until I can barely feel anything at all.

I did not tell you what I knew of him, because I did not know much. Now you know him for yourself, however, and if you wish me to try and find out everything I can about him, I will. Nor will I stop you from pursuing him at your leisure. I want to repair the damage that I have done to you by keeping these secrets for everyone, and for myself.

Consider this the first act of a mother’s repentant love, my children. You are both more dear to me than words can express, and I pray to the Ancestors that you see how difficult it is for me to share these things with you. A warrior of the Horde is never voluntarily vulnerable. Sharing my thoughts like this with you flies in the face of everything I always thought I should be, or everything I should present myself as; but I am doing it for you.

In time, I hope I am able to be more open with you about my life and the things I have seen. Until that day comes, I will need your help to tear down the walls I have built over the years. That is, if this pleases you my children. I fear that I am not giving you what you want, and I fear that even this letter is not adequate when it comes to offering you my apologetic confessions. But I have rambled enough, I think. I have taken a step, and it is better than no action at all. Here is to a better life, and a better tomorrow born of love and trust.

With all my love,
-Mom