Saga - Part VI
Feb. 11th, 2009 07:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amarthielMy teacher in Razor Hill, who'd picked up where the old orc in the Den had left off, sent me to Orgrimmar to advance my training. The member of the Shattered Hand I there encountered sent me to Ratchet; I decided to take the opportunity to travel through Kalimdor.
Mulgore struck me as almost painfully beautiful; I imagine the Barrens must have looked like that, once. The grass was thick and invitingly green; I longed to pull off my boots and walk in it. But here, hardly a stone's throw from the rises of Thunder Bluff, I didn't dare endanger my disguise. Still, Mulgore felt wild; I admired the Tauren for managing to live there without changing it. Even the Night Elves, who can hardly be seperated from their leafy homes, seem coercive in comparison. The trees bend willingly to serve their needs; but the city of the Tauren feels shaped by necessirty. I spent some time on its rises, peering into the leather tents where the Bluffs' denizens kept their shops and plied their crafts. It is a peaceful place; much more like Darnassus than I think most of my fellows in the Alliance would expect. Eventually I left, heading regretfully back to the Barrens, hoping to find Tazan- the troll south of Ratchet that I'd been asked to kill for the Shattered Hand.
Waiting for Tazan to come along, I was taken by surprise by one of the local pirates. I was distractedly scanning the horizon for the troll, and she got the jump on me. Stil unaccustomed to the lightness of my armor, I did not dodge quickly enough; she cut me deeply. Light headed and frenzied with blood loss I fought a losing battle, eventually falling. I know not for how long.
The first thing I saw upon waking was a massive, dark-furred face; the green haze around the edge of my vision helped me grasp the situation. The tauren had Healed me, apparently catching me at the brink of death. I stumbled to my feet and bowed my head in thanks, not yet trusting my voice or my command of orcish, the way my head reeled. The bull returned the bow. His eyes were dark and deep- not an animal's eyes, as I'd always assumed. Finally I managed to stammer a brief word of thanks, wishing I'd had some way to learn Taurahe, and sprinted off to the shade of a nearby palm to sit and wait, and ready myself for battle. The bull went on his way towards Ratchet.
In time I took care of the assignment, and headed back to Orgrimmar. After following up on my task, I decided to call it a night.
The next morning, I woke up aching. I wasn't out of shape by any standard- but training as a rogue was worlds away from selling a warrior's sword. My legs felt useless, from jumping and dodging, as well as running from city to city. I decided to take a day off and explore Orgrimmar instead of the outside world.
Mulgore struck me as almost painfully beautiful; I imagine the Barrens must have looked like that, once. The grass was thick and invitingly green; I longed to pull off my boots and walk in it. But here, hardly a stone's throw from the rises of Thunder Bluff, I didn't dare endanger my disguise. Still, Mulgore felt wild; I admired the Tauren for managing to live there without changing it. Even the Night Elves, who can hardly be seperated from their leafy homes, seem coercive in comparison. The trees bend willingly to serve their needs; but the city of the Tauren feels shaped by necessirty. I spent some time on its rises, peering into the leather tents where the Bluffs' denizens kept their shops and plied their crafts. It is a peaceful place; much more like Darnassus than I think most of my fellows in the Alliance would expect. Eventually I left, heading regretfully back to the Barrens, hoping to find Tazan- the troll south of Ratchet that I'd been asked to kill for the Shattered Hand.
Waiting for Tazan to come along, I was taken by surprise by one of the local pirates. I was distractedly scanning the horizon for the troll, and she got the jump on me. Stil unaccustomed to the lightness of my armor, I did not dodge quickly enough; she cut me deeply. Light headed and frenzied with blood loss I fought a losing battle, eventually falling. I know not for how long.
The first thing I saw upon waking was a massive, dark-furred face; the green haze around the edge of my vision helped me grasp the situation. The tauren had Healed me, apparently catching me at the brink of death. I stumbled to my feet and bowed my head in thanks, not yet trusting my voice or my command of orcish, the way my head reeled. The bull returned the bow. His eyes were dark and deep- not an animal's eyes, as I'd always assumed. Finally I managed to stammer a brief word of thanks, wishing I'd had some way to learn Taurahe, and sprinted off to the shade of a nearby palm to sit and wait, and ready myself for battle. The bull went on his way towards Ratchet.
In time I took care of the assignment, and headed back to Orgrimmar. After following up on my task, I decided to call it a night.
The next morning, I woke up aching. I wasn't out of shape by any standard- but training as a rogue was worlds away from selling a warrior's sword. My legs felt useless, from jumping and dodging, as well as running from city to city. I decided to take a day off and explore Orgrimmar instead of the outside world.
