Where in the world is Rommak Sandiago?

[gort]

(( This is all meant to be happening while those brave heroes kill Arthas. ))

"For the Horde!" Romm's voice carried the familiar phrase over the song of combat, ushering a reply from the throats of many of the younger warriors. Grinning ferally, the old battle-shaman turned and buried his axe in the neck of another blood-spattered enemy. His name was bellowed and the Warlord turned to face this latest challenger.

"Kraz Soulrender. You finally abandon your hall to meet me. Good." And with that final word, they fell on each other, each dancing around the other like two warriors who accept the other as a worthy opponent. To the inexperienced eye, their weapons would seem to bounce silently away from each other, when in fact the warriors drew away at the last moment each saving his blade for the other's flesh and bone. Around and around they moved, until one of the Scourged archer's found his mark and, Spinerip collapsed. An arrow pierced his leg, and bone fragments, once a left knee, littered the bloodied snow. The aged Orc snapped of the tip and, with a thundering roar, jerked the arrow free before collapsing. He forced the leg straight and began growling all the words of healing he could recall through the bloodhaze. Several of Romm's warriors fell in to defen their Warlord and they fought valiantly though by the time Rommak dragged himself upward, they lay in pieces. Leg stiffened, Rommak Spinerip rejoined the fight.

There was an explosion and both leaders turned to examine the battle. Several Vrykul Runeweavers had met Rommak's elite, and the fighting was intense. A flicker of movement and Rommak turned in time to catch the full force of a shadowbolt in the shoulder. Another stumble, this time with a failing leg, and his axe became a walking stick.

There was a brief lull in the fighting around them as the two sides attempted to watch their respective leaders. Kraz spoke, as all those who believe they hold power do. His words were lost in the pained ring of Romm's ears, as the Warlord dove deep within himself. Timed to slow, seconds became hours, and a grip icier than anything Northrend could off enveloped the Orc as he realized he was dieing. Rommak allowed his gaze to drift downwards, content to offer a prayer before the final blow came. Kraz was drawing back, summoning his strength for a blow that would nearly sever Romm completely in half. Lower and lower Romm's eyes drifted, until he realized he was looking at his own chest. Somewhere, in another world, he heard a dull thud, followed by a sharp pain near where the shadowbolt had hit him. A moment later and blood exploded from a hole carved by a Vrykul's spear.

Kraz's face flashed confusion at the sight of a Vrykul stabbing Rommak in the back. "Coward..." Bewilderment turned to rage as, rather than cleave Rommak's neck, Kraz hurled his sword at the murderer. It was the Vrykul warrior's turn to be confused, as the sword slammed tip-first into the area just above his collarbone.

Rommak fell sideways to lie on his side in the snow. A meaty hand grasped for the longknife at his hip, he was determined to die with a blade in hand. Kraz Soulrender knelt by the Warlord, pulling his own longknife. He drew back to well over his shoulder, too far back. With a swift, whip-like motion Rommak Spinerip slammed his blade into the side of Kraz's ribcage, nicking the heart. The old warrior then hugged Kraz close, and whispered a final piece of advice. "I always told you to stab from the elbow, little brother."

[gort]

(( I double post to emphasize that this is much later. Also lets go with a few days before the Cataclysm. ))

A small, two person boat approaches Durotar's northwestern coast. The boat is too small to have traversed the oceans, and must have left a ship on it's way to Ratchet. Both occupants are Orcs, both are obviously warriors if the armor and weapons are anything to go by, but the age difference is extreme. The one doing the rowing is young, with dark hair and few scars. The other is old. Not quite ancient, but old for his kind. He is also heavily bandaged, and seems to be on the edge of vomiting.

A massive figure stands on the shore, apparently waiting for them. Massive is of course a relative term and, for a tauren, he is only slightly smaller than average. He, the figure is male, is also aged. On the younger side of old. Too old to be young and too young to be old, as it were. Compared to the Orcs, his clothing is sparse, wearing little more than leather pants and a vest. The markings on his skin, however, more than compensate. From head to hoof, the Shu'halo is covered in runic markings. With each breath, certain runes seem almost to glow with energy.

A strong wave finally brings the small craft ashore. The younger Orc leaps to the sand, pulling the boat completely ashore with the Tauren's help. The older Orc waits patiently, looking more than a little awkward. Finally the young Orc, content nothing will float away, returns to the Old One and offers a hand in support. Growling, more at himself than the youth, the Elder reaches out and allows himself to be pulled from the boat.

"Damn, old friend." Is all the Tauren can say at the sight.

With one hand wrapped around the youth's shoulder, Rommak's feet may rest on the sand, but he supports none of his own weight. His right leg is thick with muscle, thinned with age but still adequate. The left leg, however, is to an Orc a truly pitiful sight. Atrophied muscles leave little but skin and bone. As far as bone goes, there is an obvious flaw. A normal leg is multiple bones joined at the knee. Rommak's leg seems to be one long bone running from hip to ankle.

Uruz, the younger Orc, maneuvers his Warlord so that Solanak,the Tauren, can take the weight then begins unloading loot and provisions from the craft.

"Uruz." Says Romm. "Everything in there is yours. I release your from your oath, hold your duty fulfilled. Return to the Horde, seek your glory. Somewhere in there you will find your bag with your pay. The others have already recieved theirs. I will also alert the barkeep that your debts are to be put on my tab for three days."

Uruz pauses, considering the words then silently nods and returns to unpacking.

"Mmnf. Come then greenskin, the druids wait." Solanak shifts Rommak so that walking will be easier, then moves off in the direction of the Zeppelin Tower.

(( I will add more here when I have time. ))