Post by gort on Jan 5, 2011 14:59:42 GMT -5
This is all stuff I wrote between 28 and 4 months ago. Only the story about Gortuk and even then only the first part, not all of it will be WoW stuff, I just thought you might like to read it.
Gortuk scanned the stream, eyeing the surface for the tell-tale signs of fish. Seeing none he returned to leaning on the tree, the pole resting limply in his hand. Sighing heavily, the orc rolled his head back and regarded himself.
He was large for his age, even by Orcish standards. At only 17 he was taller than some nearing fifty. His clothes were not the finest but, they were durable and kept him warm. A simple leather vest, crafted from talbuk hide, along with a pair of cloth pants were his standard garb. For special occasions though he also kept a pair of very high quality Clefthoof leather boots, marked with runic symbols.
"Yarp!"
The sudden warning bark interrupted his next thought as the fishing rod was almost pulled from his hand. With a lurch, he caught the rod and jerked the line and hooked fish free from the water from the stream. Like a silver streak, the fish wriggled about on the ground. Before Gortuk could react Midnight jumped and snagged the fish. There was a small squeak as the wolf-dog's massive jaw crushed the fish's head.
With a chuckle, still almost childish in sound, Gortuk batted the dog away and snatched up the fish. He carefully strung it on needle and sinew, from which hung two other fish. With a grunt the orc rolled to a squat and stood. "Come on pup, Da will be wondering where we are." The wolf looked up at him, watching with those yellow eyes for a moment before the two broke into a trot for the village.
"Hail Ma, Da!" The young orc bellowed as he neared the house. An orc woman stepped from the hut to the fire just outside and replied in turn "Hail Gort. Did you catch some dinner?" Ma, or Kurna as anyone else would call her, was a fine woman, her skin deep brown and hardened by labor and the sun. Hey hair was the usual raven, and hung freely past her shoulders. Her face was smooth and her eye's motherly, with two small tusks poking above her lip.
"Mmnf Ma, but Midnight snapped a bit of one." Gortuk was beside the fire then and passing the fish to her.
"Hmm, that'll be yours then." She replied, barking a laugh. She took the fish layed a flat slab of iron across the fire, smothering the flames. Skillfully she scaled and gutted the fish then layed them across the iron pan to fry. Immediately behind Gortuk approached the familiar sound of Da's limping walk.
Da, or Dun, was not a pleasant looking Orc. Many hunts had left him scarred and one arm twisted strangely. His face was crossed with scars and burns. This along with one large and one broken tusk made for a frightening visage.
"Throm'ka Da!" Gortuk greeted his father.
"And hail to you pup and pup." Da replied, lifting a hand to indicate Gortuk and the wolf-dog. Da stepped in the hut to remove some armor, then returned to sit by the fire. It was from these positions they described their days.
Da, as a Grunt, had simply patrolled the Valey all day. Ma had worked in her garden. Gortuk had gotten away to the river in order to relax for tomorrow. As they spoke, the fish cooked and was eaten. Gradually the day passed into night and one by one they moved into the hut to sleep until only Midnight was left by the smoldering fire.
Part 2 - As the first rays of dawn crept over the hills, Gortuk was already up and preparing the the day ahead. Today was his chosen day, when he would dive headfirst into the fire of combat. A warrior from one of the Nagrand clans had been chosen to test Gortuk. With a grunt, the young orc picked up his axe and sprinted out of the house and to the road where he began the journey to the Nagrand.
He ran into the evening, passing through the Gorest and onto the grasslands. By the time he reached the arena, he was not only early, so planned to impress his judgers, but severely out of breath. As he stood panting, three orcs approached. Two he recognized as elders from his own village, but the third, he was short for an Orc and too skinny. Noone spoke as the skinny elder lifted a hand and gestured into the arena.
Gortuk, still panting, hefted his axe and moved into the ring-
"GORTUK! Get up you pink-skin lover!"
At the insult, Gortuk slammed his fist into the younger orc. "Watch your mouth runt, or next time you won't get back up."
The youth spat blood, then grunted. "Warlord says today we go through the portal to the other world. Get ready." He then moved off, practically dancing with joy.
Gortuk sat in his bad, eyeing his green hands, contrasting against the red soil of Hellfire. He rubbed his face, forcing the dream away. Ma and Da were dead, brothers and sister served elsewhere. Dream tonight, now is the time to kill.
-bravery-
What is courage, a wise man asks
Is it a warrior, pierced by many arrows
yet rising one last time?
A lone soldier, all companions dead
still holding needed ground?
A tired father, many kids at home
working without end
A single mother, with shuddering last breath
brings new life into this world.
All these are brave, says wise man
Bravery is a simple thing
A man or woman, doing what must be done
No matter what price they pay
Gortuk scanned the stream, eyeing the surface for the tell-tale signs of fish. Seeing none he returned to leaning on the tree, the pole resting limply in his hand. Sighing heavily, the orc rolled his head back and regarded himself.
He was large for his age, even by Orcish standards. At only 17 he was taller than some nearing fifty. His clothes were not the finest but, they were durable and kept him warm. A simple leather vest, crafted from talbuk hide, along with a pair of cloth pants were his standard garb. For special occasions though he also kept a pair of very high quality Clefthoof leather boots, marked with runic symbols.
"Yarp!"
The sudden warning bark interrupted his next thought as the fishing rod was almost pulled from his hand. With a lurch, he caught the rod and jerked the line and hooked fish free from the water from the stream. Like a silver streak, the fish wriggled about on the ground. Before Gortuk could react Midnight jumped and snagged the fish. There was a small squeak as the wolf-dog's massive jaw crushed the fish's head.
With a chuckle, still almost childish in sound, Gortuk batted the dog away and snatched up the fish. He carefully strung it on needle and sinew, from which hung two other fish. With a grunt the orc rolled to a squat and stood. "Come on pup, Da will be wondering where we are." The wolf looked up at him, watching with those yellow eyes for a moment before the two broke into a trot for the village.
"Hail Ma, Da!" The young orc bellowed as he neared the house. An orc woman stepped from the hut to the fire just outside and replied in turn "Hail Gort. Did you catch some dinner?" Ma, or Kurna as anyone else would call her, was a fine woman, her skin deep brown and hardened by labor and the sun. Hey hair was the usual raven, and hung freely past her shoulders. Her face was smooth and her eye's motherly, with two small tusks poking above her lip.
"Mmnf Ma, but Midnight snapped a bit of one." Gortuk was beside the fire then and passing the fish to her.
"Hmm, that'll be yours then." She replied, barking a laugh. She took the fish layed a flat slab of iron across the fire, smothering the flames. Skillfully she scaled and gutted the fish then layed them across the iron pan to fry. Immediately behind Gortuk approached the familiar sound of Da's limping walk.
Da, or Dun, was not a pleasant looking Orc. Many hunts had left him scarred and one arm twisted strangely. His face was crossed with scars and burns. This along with one large and one broken tusk made for a frightening visage.
"Throm'ka Da!" Gortuk greeted his father.
"And hail to you pup and pup." Da replied, lifting a hand to indicate Gortuk and the wolf-dog. Da stepped in the hut to remove some armor, then returned to sit by the fire. It was from these positions they described their days.
Da, as a Grunt, had simply patrolled the Valey all day. Ma had worked in her garden. Gortuk had gotten away to the river in order to relax for tomorrow. As they spoke, the fish cooked and was eaten. Gradually the day passed into night and one by one they moved into the hut to sleep until only Midnight was left by the smoldering fire.
Part 2 - As the first rays of dawn crept over the hills, Gortuk was already up and preparing the the day ahead. Today was his chosen day, when he would dive headfirst into the fire of combat. A warrior from one of the Nagrand clans had been chosen to test Gortuk. With a grunt, the young orc picked up his axe and sprinted out of the house and to the road where he began the journey to the Nagrand.
He ran into the evening, passing through the Gorest and onto the grasslands. By the time he reached the arena, he was not only early, so planned to impress his judgers, but severely out of breath. As he stood panting, three orcs approached. Two he recognized as elders from his own village, but the third, he was short for an Orc and too skinny. Noone spoke as the skinny elder lifted a hand and gestured into the arena.
Gortuk, still panting, hefted his axe and moved into the ring-
"GORTUK! Get up you pink-skin lover!"
At the insult, Gortuk slammed his fist into the younger orc. "Watch your mouth runt, or next time you won't get back up."
The youth spat blood, then grunted. "Warlord says today we go through the portal to the other world. Get ready." He then moved off, practically dancing with joy.
Gortuk sat in his bad, eyeing his green hands, contrasting against the red soil of Hellfire. He rubbed his face, forcing the dream away. Ma and Da were dead, brothers and sister served elsewhere. Dream tonight, now is the time to kill.
-bravery-
What is courage, a wise man asks
Is it a warrior, pierced by many arrows
yet rising one last time?
A lone soldier, all companions dead
still holding needed ground?
A tired father, many kids at home
working without end
A single mother, with shuddering last breath
brings new life into this world.
All these are brave, says wise man
Bravery is a simple thing
A man or woman, doing what must be done
No matter what price they pay