Post by Archivist~Bel on Feb 17, 2006 18:59:26 GMT -5
A warrior is born
Author: Thraknar
Link: forums.worldofwarcraft.com/thread.aspx?fn=wow-realm-scarletcrusade&t=153522&p=1&tmp=1#post153522
A slight movement, a shuffle of a boot moving ever so little on the rough sand caused Thraknar to quickly shift his center of balance, ready for an attack. It came, right on time, and Thraknar jammed his shoulder in the others chest before he could bring his mace down. Caught off guard, the attacker took a half step back, giving Thraknar just enough room to bring the butt of his own mace around and strike his opponent in the jaw. Arms grabbed at his neck, and he bent down quickly, throwing the second opponent at his feet, with enough force to wind him. Behind him he could hear the first attacker take a step forward, just recovering from the blow to the face. Thraknar kicked back, and the grunt from his opponent told him he had made contact with his stomach. Bring his mace up over his head, he prepared to swing a mighty blow to the second attacker.
“Enough!” his teacher yelled. As the adrenaline calmed down, Thraknar helped his fellow students back to their feet. Thraknar looked at the rest of the class, many kneeling down, many with bruises and cuts. Although wore down from fighting all day, he felt good enough for a few more rounds.
“Good,” his teacher said, “Put your maces away, and go rest now. Thrak, come with me.”
He followed his teacher as he walked along the base of the jagged ridge that protected The Den, where he any many other Orcs his age were training hard to becomes strong warriors of the Horde. His teacher started up a narrow path, one that he was told to not go up before. As they reached the top, he could see the vast sea that divided the two continents.
His teacher finally spoke, “Thrak, you are a good fighter. You have the instinct that is needed to be a good warrior, and someday you will be a great soldier for the Horde. You are strong and fast, and your skills with the weapons are beyond the rest of the class.”
Thraknar was very pleased to hear these words, especially from one he held to such esteem as his own teacher. Never too smart, or good with words, he stayed silent for a few moments before speaking, to gather his thoughts.
“Sir,” he started, “you honor me. I will do what I can to learn what I can, and someday, maybe what you say will be real.”
With a slight grunt, and a small grin his teacher looked in his eyes, and said, “Perhaps, Thraknar, this day will come sooner than you think. There is a clan to the north, known as the Outriders. I have decided I have taught you all I can here. At sunrise, I will take you up to their camp, and they will train you more in the ways of war. It is you who have brought honor on yourself, and you father. I can see the hunger to fight in your eyes, just as I did in your father’s when I trained him. Stay here for a while to prepare yourself for the journey ahead of you.” And with that, his teacher made his way back down to the Den.
In a swarm of thoughts, Thraknar sat at the edge of the cliff. All he knew to do well was fight, but was he really ready to go to war? What if he wasn’t? What if he failed and others lost their lives because of him? Long into the night he sat up top the cliff watching the water, listening to it, as it calmed him.
Somewhere in the night he dozed off, and woke with a start as he heard a seagull call over the now lightening sea. Knowing what was needed of him, he made his way down the path, and began to
gather his things. As he was putting the last few things into his bag, his teacher came in to his small hut. In his hands was a large, worn, but still very useable axe.
His teacher held it out to him. “This was your fathers. Many felt this at their last moments. An Orc and his axe are one. This is too now part of you. I know you will do it honor.”
Thraknar bowed as he took the axe in his hands. Light, sharp and strong, he felt this was the perfect axe. Grabbing his bag, he followed as his teacher left the hut. And side by side the made their way across the harsh barrens.
Holding his father’s axe so tight his knuckles where turning white, Thraknar waited just inside the building. He could hear the Elves outside speaking quietly, and then heard a shuffle on the stone slab that was the step to the hall he was in. Pushed against the wall, he held his breath, to hear every movement. He couldn’t understand what was being said, but by the tone of their whispers he could tell they were disagreeing. Knowing if there was a time to take on two opponents, it was while they were not paying attention.
With a roar, he spun around the door, cleaving them both at the chest. One was in leather, and was cut badly, falling back. The second was in plate, and was stepping back in surprise. Bring his weapon back around, he jammed the head of the axe in the other helm, crushing it with a shower of blood. As he spun to look for others, he
went down on one knee, feeling pain all over his body. As he managed to look up, he saw a human in white robes, chanting something he could not understand. Not knowing how, Thraknar knew this was the cause of this pain.
About to black out, a large ball of fire nearly singed his ear. The human, now burning, lost hold of his magic. He turned to thank his rescuer when he saw the undead man duck from a sword swing. Enraged now, Thraknar ran at him, and with one smooth swing took the man’s head.
“We musssst fall back to where the otherssss are, Warrior.” The undead man said to him. Thraknar followed the mage, still into the fight, prepared for any attack, but still aware he had been called what he had always hoped for. A warrior.
Author: Thraknar
Link: forums.worldofwarcraft.com/thread.aspx?fn=wow-realm-scarletcrusade&t=153522&p=1&tmp=1#post153522
A slight movement, a shuffle of a boot moving ever so little on the rough sand caused Thraknar to quickly shift his center of balance, ready for an attack. It came, right on time, and Thraknar jammed his shoulder in the others chest before he could bring his mace down. Caught off guard, the attacker took a half step back, giving Thraknar just enough room to bring the butt of his own mace around and strike his opponent in the jaw. Arms grabbed at his neck, and he bent down quickly, throwing the second opponent at his feet, with enough force to wind him. Behind him he could hear the first attacker take a step forward, just recovering from the blow to the face. Thraknar kicked back, and the grunt from his opponent told him he had made contact with his stomach. Bring his mace up over his head, he prepared to swing a mighty blow to the second attacker.
“Enough!” his teacher yelled. As the adrenaline calmed down, Thraknar helped his fellow students back to their feet. Thraknar looked at the rest of the class, many kneeling down, many with bruises and cuts. Although wore down from fighting all day, he felt good enough for a few more rounds.
“Good,” his teacher said, “Put your maces away, and go rest now. Thrak, come with me.”
He followed his teacher as he walked along the base of the jagged ridge that protected The Den, where he any many other Orcs his age were training hard to becomes strong warriors of the Horde. His teacher started up a narrow path, one that he was told to not go up before. As they reached the top, he could see the vast sea that divided the two continents.
His teacher finally spoke, “Thrak, you are a good fighter. You have the instinct that is needed to be a good warrior, and someday you will be a great soldier for the Horde. You are strong and fast, and your skills with the weapons are beyond the rest of the class.”
Thraknar was very pleased to hear these words, especially from one he held to such esteem as his own teacher. Never too smart, or good with words, he stayed silent for a few moments before speaking, to gather his thoughts.
“Sir,” he started, “you honor me. I will do what I can to learn what I can, and someday, maybe what you say will be real.”
With a slight grunt, and a small grin his teacher looked in his eyes, and said, “Perhaps, Thraknar, this day will come sooner than you think. There is a clan to the north, known as the Outriders. I have decided I have taught you all I can here. At sunrise, I will take you up to their camp, and they will train you more in the ways of war. It is you who have brought honor on yourself, and you father. I can see the hunger to fight in your eyes, just as I did in your father’s when I trained him. Stay here for a while to prepare yourself for the journey ahead of you.” And with that, his teacher made his way back down to the Den.
In a swarm of thoughts, Thraknar sat at the edge of the cliff. All he knew to do well was fight, but was he really ready to go to war? What if he wasn’t? What if he failed and others lost their lives because of him? Long into the night he sat up top the cliff watching the water, listening to it, as it calmed him.
Somewhere in the night he dozed off, and woke with a start as he heard a seagull call over the now lightening sea. Knowing what was needed of him, he made his way down the path, and began to
gather his things. As he was putting the last few things into his bag, his teacher came in to his small hut. In his hands was a large, worn, but still very useable axe.
His teacher held it out to him. “This was your fathers. Many felt this at their last moments. An Orc and his axe are one. This is too now part of you. I know you will do it honor.”
Thraknar bowed as he took the axe in his hands. Light, sharp and strong, he felt this was the perfect axe. Grabbing his bag, he followed as his teacher left the hut. And side by side the made their way across the harsh barrens.
Holding his father’s axe so tight his knuckles where turning white, Thraknar waited just inside the building. He could hear the Elves outside speaking quietly, and then heard a shuffle on the stone slab that was the step to the hall he was in. Pushed against the wall, he held his breath, to hear every movement. He couldn’t understand what was being said, but by the tone of their whispers he could tell they were disagreeing. Knowing if there was a time to take on two opponents, it was while they were not paying attention.
With a roar, he spun around the door, cleaving them both at the chest. One was in leather, and was cut badly, falling back. The second was in plate, and was stepping back in surprise. Bring his weapon back around, he jammed the head of the axe in the other helm, crushing it with a shower of blood. As he spun to look for others, he
went down on one knee, feeling pain all over his body. As he managed to look up, he saw a human in white robes, chanting something he could not understand. Not knowing how, Thraknar knew this was the cause of this pain.
About to black out, a large ball of fire nearly singed his ear. The human, now burning, lost hold of his magic. He turned to thank his rescuer when he saw the undead man duck from a sword swing. Enraged now, Thraknar ran at him, and with one smooth swing took the man’s head.
“We musssst fall back to where the otherssss are, Warrior.” The undead man said to him. Thraknar followed the mage, still into the fight, prepared for any attack, but still aware he had been called what he had always hoped for. A warrior.