Sweat & Blood

[Visskar]

Though he had been fasted for over a day before entering the lodge, the Tauren did not notice his hunger. The sweat was far too distracting, even over the occasional rumble of his stomachs. A few shakes of his mane freed some of the moisture clinging to the fur along his neck and upper back, but more quickly took its place. Reaching a hand up to touch a length of his horns, he felt like even they were sweating though he knew that to be impossible.

The physical discomfort was pushed out of mind; it was to be expected, after all. This was not the first time he had sought cleansing and guidance inside one of his tribe’s sweat lodges. Had it truly been so long since he had passed childhood and sought the wisdom of his ancestors. The vision had been followed; as promised the journey to Thunder Bluff had led him away from home and into the thick of the world’s struggles. The scars that were carried in body and spirit stood out as Visskar looked down at his hands. How empty they felt now, without weapons held firm; how sore muscles felt while they could relax, yet trembling in anticipation of seeing battle once again. Perhaps it was the purity of battle that called to him, nature in its most basic primal state. Yet he did not fight for the thrill of battle or lust for blood as some did. Visskar thought of his younger siblings, and how he longed for them to be spared the trials he had endured. Not just for his family, though, but the generations beyond as well. Some day Mulgore, and all Kalimdor, would know true peace and contentment. Whether he survived to see it, or just played a small part in ensuring its arrival did not matter.

Be brave, Grandson . Your destiny may not be as large as some, but you still have a part to play. The blood you shed is not in vain.

The voice was but a whisper, but recognizable none-the-less. A smile spread across Visskar’s features. “You honor me, Grandfather.” His gaze surveyed the lodge looking for his revered ancestor. While no ghost made itself known, a small hawk perched upon a roof support. When his grandfather still lived, the elder Tauren had related to a wide-eyed young bull tales of hunting prey with his preferred raptor companions.

There is still much struggle to come before you will know peace, Grandson. Your companions have gone their ways. It is time you seek out a new family take their place, to give you their strength, and give them yours.

The whispered words hung in his ears as the bird took to the air with a loud screech. The flap of its wings echoed through the lodge, the hawk circled the seated Tauren once before escaping out an open doorway. Visskar did not question the fact that minutes ago the door had been closed. He rose from his spot, and followed the hawk out. The time for introspection was over. As he made his way towards the nearby pond to bathe in its cool waters, motion to the side caught his eye. The hawk had found a new place to perch, the half-crushed skull of a long fallen centaur.

[Amahli]

((I loved it!))

[Wolf]

Excellent read

[Maube]

Maube Eyed the sweat lodge - muttered something and turned her mount away... her undead flesh didnt need anymore torture.

(( Excellent story! ))