The forsaken

[Vradish]

There comes a time when a orc loses hope; when the infinite doubt and despair that fills the world bears down so strong upon a man that he loses all will and purpose. When a orc succumbs to this terrible burden, when the driving force that sustains his soul is ravished into nothingness, then he shall die.

A group of outcast, desolate orcs, the very epitome of insignificance amidst a huge expanse of rock and sand, found themselves upon the brink of despair. Perilously their resolve held firm, in a desperate attempt to keep their sanity intact. But alone and hounded, torn from the false hope that had kept them alive, the skullcrusherclan from the lost ruind camps…

They were a group of orc damned, forsaken, and ready to die.

All of this, because of the thought, the concept, the utter impossibility that they had failed their people. A thought so strong and terrible, that for a moment each orc felt the very earth torn away from beneath their feet, and found themselves thrust alone into a place dark, foreboding, and unforgiving: a void born of despair. Derelict they stood, their minds reeling with incomprehension, devastated by the very thought that they had been proven inferior and had damned their people.

And it is at that moment, when death is far more real than life, that a orc becomes calm, more tranquil than the most serene realms of Orgrimmar. Placid the orc might seem, but never before in his existence has he been more dangerous. Because, with all constraints lifted from him, and the responsibilities of life and honor forever vanquished, a orc can dare to go to the utter extremes of his being, and hazard the impossible.

* * * * * * *

(PART 1)

[Vradish]

(PART 2)

The calm before the storm had descended upon the orcs of Orgrimmar. The enemy, the approaching forces of the alliance, loomed ever virulently to the north. But now, those groups of savage men were inconsequential, nothing more than the means to reach the ultimate end. The true enemy rested unmoving in a city in the midst of the Southern humanity; an enemy that had wrecked far more damning harm dead than alive. For truly, a dead hope is far more mordant than a living enemy.

The other orcs of Orgrimmar had tempted fate, and lost.

Unable to relinquish hope, The skullcrusherclan charged into the city, shouting war cries with their swords drawn and their eyes blazing wild with vengeance. The city was huge, defiled with a putrid stench of death, and the bones of countless orcs laid scattered over the obdurate floor. The sunlight did little to illuminate the room, yet it was plain from the layers of dust and sand that nothing had been disturbed for many days. And in the corner laid the dragon; huge, vivid, and deadly. Its massive body was curled almost into a ball, and only its long, winding tail extended out for a distance until it disappeared into the darkness of the cave.

The dragon that had eradicated the entire army of Orgrimmar, that had cursed an entire nation through the use of its minion the Desert Stranger, was now exposed, defenseless, and vulnerable.

Yet its armored chest was bereft of any motion.

Undeniably, the beast that had inflicted such an innumerable amount of woes upon the Orgrimmar nation, was dead.

Upon returning into the waning desert sunlight, Grulg whispered solemnly, "ull am lozt."

The rest of the clan was still overwhelmed. "So long have I wished for the death of that dragon," he murmured faintly. "Now, in our hour of need and when we seek him alive, he fails us."

"Wutz put da weeb fullow nuw?" asked Uglutz grimly.

"Du weeb cuntinue tu retreat suth unto da desurt?" questioned Grulg.

"Ur do weeb flee tu da Wust, und purhaps fund refuge witz our brutars neer da Grut See?" asked Vradish softly.

The rest of the clan did not speak for a moment. Then they adamantly shook there head. "Nub," answered Uglutz resolutely. In a quiet voice he included, "Tu da suth lies nuthing but undless desart, und nub guud shull com ub a trek tu dat wastelund. Tu the eest lies da Camps ub Durotar, und nub wulcome shull weeb fund ter. Weeb cannut travul wust, fur weeb cannot risk leeding da allaince buck to ur peeple und truly dumning ull uf ur brethren."

Vradish paused, and took a sorrowful moment to look down at the fallen forces of his kinsorcs, which lay scattered at the base of Azeroth. "Lut diz am ur battlefeeld," he finally stated. He glared fiercely at the approaching allaince, his eyes ablaze with grim resolve.

"Futting, am it nut?"

"Thun weeb stuy," murmured Vidarok softly.

"Yub," answered Morg. "Weeb stuy, weeb fight, und weeb surviv."

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Edited December 13, 2003 by Vradish

[Vradish]

(PART 3)

The afternoon subsided into a mild dusk. The red daystar could hardly be seen on the distant horizon, and only the faintest glow illuminated the sky and prevented night from becoming wholly dominant. The moon was new and dark, and the stars seemed to dim behind a haze born of sand.

The skullcrusherclan, innumerable and impregnable, began their approach to Dragon Rock. The allaince warriors were no longer walking, but were running with astonishing celerity; tired, angry, and desperate for the blood of those whom had eluded them for so long. Their faces were taut and contorted with their savage intent, sweat soaking through their blue clothes. Like wolves, they ran at their enemy with an insatiable anger and crazed intensity.

In the short distance in front of them, Azeroth was glowing in the last of the sun's light. Atop the promontory, the dim silhouette of a strong clan could be espied, their swords held high in defiance. For a moment, the tumultuous Allaince army seemed to stop, not in wonder, nor in fear, but to loosen their bows and ready their arrows. Yet the clan had disappeared into the darkness by the time the shafts had been removed from their quivers. A few stray shots were unleashed, unable to find their mark and instead falling harmlessly onto the jagged rock of the hill.

The army surged again into motion, raging with unbridled rancor up the sides of the rock towards the big city. Their swords were unsheathed and at the top of their voices they were crying out fell war shouts. In their fury, they cared not that the darkness all but blinded them, and that every footstep that fell onto solid rock instead of open air was by fate or chance. Hate and spite drove them on, ever towards a girdled but hidden enemy.

The fleet of foot arrived first to the slab that opened into the city. For a short moment, they were greeted with nothing but darkness and silence. Yet then the slight glint of metal awoke from the darkness, and the sound of soft footfalls shouted in the silence. The Allaince vanguard lifted their swords in defense, but their furtive enemy(the skullcrusherclan) suddenly sprung into a swift attack and cut down the Alliance forefront. Yet Uglutz rushed atop the rock with vastly superior numbers, bearing torches that destroyed their enemies advantage of stealth. The Orgrimmar defenders, exposed and unable to retreat off the rock, grouped together in a tight wedge in a desperate attempt at keeping their attackers at bay. Bravely and futilely the orcs of Orgrimmar staved and parried off the blows of the Alliance. Yet the defenders were but a paltry insult against the furious avalanche of the Allaince, and the Elves charged the orcs of Orgrimmar and broke through their wedge.

As a united unit, the Orc defenders could hope to survive for a time. But now, sundered and forced to engage the enemy alone and unaided, fate would spare them no longer. Blorish the gallant captain fell under the torrent of spears and blades, and breathed his last. Littlun, the youngest of the orc defenders, found himself forced back to the brink of the rock. Furiously, he beat down the blows of several Alliance warriors, almost breaking his way past his assailants. But one sword against a score of spears was a hopeless cause, and he was pressed back perilously to the edge of the cliff. With a cry that seemed to shake the very heavens, Littlun dove at the Alliance soldiers, and with a tremendous heave he succeeded in throwing several off the stone slab to their death far below. But the motion left him vulnerable, and several javelins were thrust into his exposed body. In the long, horrible moment that followed, Littlun of Orgrimmar, knowing his wounds were mortal, managed a trembling salute of respect to his King and fellow orcs, and then fell from the rock face to join his fallen brothers at the base of the hill.

Uglutz and the remaining clan members found themselves surrounded and without hope, fighting without a purpose other than dying an honorable and valiant death. Each man had laid waste to several Alliance warriors, and the fury of the defenders was unmatched by anything seen in the orcish history. They were pressed to the utter limits of their strength and will, and still they stubbornly resisted. Yet the clan members were mortal like any other, and soon their vigor began to fail them. Vradish was furiously fighting off two score warriors, but soon found himself unable to defend all fronts. His might began to waver, and the countless warriors began to pounce on top of him. For one horrifying moment, he realised his death was imminent. Then a heavy object smashed against the back of his head, and a welcome darkness descended upon him.

* * * * * * *

[Vradish]

(PART 4)

He awoke hours later, his head aching and swirling, with the disturbing sensation of being unable to move. Vradish slowly opened his eyes, and nothing but the night darkness greeted him. His eyes soon adjusted to the dimness, and obscurely he could tell that he was in the midst of a huge body of persons, with countless fires burning around him.

Vidarok , Vradish wondered why he wasn't dead. The shouts of several voices, speaking in an unfamiliar, coarse tongue, gave him the answer he sought. He was a prisoner, a destitute captive in the hands of the alliance.

He tried to stand, but an invisible barrier held him down. Searchingly, his eyes looked down at his body. He was in a sitting position, and his legs were stretched out in front of him, tightly fettered by rope. His arms were securely bound behind him, around what he supposed was some type of shaft.

"Ut am guud tu see lat uwake , meeb brotarh" called out a quiet voice.

Vradish turned sharply towards the unexpected voice. It was Uglutz. He, along with the rest of the skullcrusherclan were tied up in a similar fashion asVradish. Their faces were grim but calm, and they seemed sincerely relieved that every member still lived. "Whu dit thuy kuup weeb ulive?" asked Vradissh hoarsely.

The night was dark, but still Vidarok could sense the sorrowful frown on Grulg' face. The soldier sighed, shook his head, and he began to whisper silently to himself. After a moment, Vidarok turned back to Grulg, and stated simply, "Behold." The orc nodded his head towards one of the many fires that burned within the enemy camp.

Grulg trained his eyes toward the fire, and in the dimness he could espy an obscure, still figure tied to a stake above the flames. Suddenly, every limb on his body went cold. "Whu?" Grulg asked fiercely.

Vidarok didn't answer immediately, but began to weep silently, staring up into the night sky. "Littlun," he whispered finally. "The knaves took him the very moment we broke camp." Vidarok fell into another silence, looking down at the sandy, desert ground. Then he added virulently, "The curs show us not even the least honor. Littlun was castrated before they took him to the fires. The screams ended only a short while ago." He turned back fiercely towards Vradish . "Weeb am demz sport,meeb frind. Thut am wuy demz kept us alive."

Vradish's eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened into a scowl. "Wher do demz take us?" he asked solemnly.

"Nurth," answered another voice, Uglutz. "Da Desart Ruck rests severul leagues tu da suth. Weeb have truvel un greet dustance during da night; lat am carried whule lat am unconscious."

Vradish’s gaze grew more intense, and for a moment he was silent with a dangerous expression darkening his face. Then suddenly, as utter relief coursed through his body, the cloud lifted from his face, and he smiled slightly. "Ur enemy am traveling hum!" he cried.

"Vradish?" asked Vidarok with a questioning look, frowning.

"Suved!" cried Vradish joyfully.

"Suved?" retorted Morg bitterly. "Weeb am dumned! Weeb hav been dunied ur rightful honor, tu die honorably in buttle. Instead weeb am tu am tortured like dugs!"

"Nub!" answered Vradish. "Do lat not consider da consequence ub ur sucrifice? ur enemy am appeased, demz pursue ur peeple nub lunger! Weeb am ded orcs, skah! But weeb hav been give a guft, greeter tanz any Uruk could usk! Weeb can take solace dat ur peeple am free, and wull again am greet und mighty us weeb once amz. Suved! Furtune hus blussed us!"

"Do lat so lightly uccept latz ded?" cried Grogor.

"Cur!" shouted Uglutz. "Huw dare lat so dishonor latz heritage! Lat, a Skullcrusherclan member, cower ut da prospect ub latz own ded! Weeb hav fought und sucrificed for ur peeple, und ter am no greeter honor tanz dat! Ded shall beeb a blussed welcome! ur peeple shall live un, und may ther duys uxtend buyond dat ub cowardice, wur! Me , Grogor, son of Harki, a lutenant un da army ub meeb peeple, shall proudly die as u defender of Orgrimmar."

From out of the darkness, a small company of Allaince soldiers approached the group of orcs, and with threatening glances they passed on to the other side of the encampment. The orcs of Orgrimmar dared no more to speak that night.

* * * * * * *

[Vradish]

(PART 5)

The orcs and the alliance arose with the coming of the sun, and continued their long trek to the north. The captives were still given no nourishment, and they were weakened to the point that they could hardly walk. Still they were pushed on, often by the sharp and unforgiving prodding of the alliance. Vradish walked in silence, and a strange glint of light burned in his eyes.

Around mid morning, a cry arose from the rear of the marching troupe. The alliance captains halted the soldiers and all eyes were turned back towards the south. To the warriors' dismay, a small company of alliance soldiers lay torn and dead upon the desert ground. Despite a long, thorough search, neither a sign nor a trail was seen of the assaulting force that had caused this slaughter, and the captains became furious. Yet to chase an unseen enemy was folly, and the alliance army had no choice but to continue their return journey to the north.

The clan suffered no more attacks that day. They pressed on in the blazing desert sun for several hours, taking only a small amount of time to rest. Yet the day began to darken earlier than what was normal, and the sun became hidden behind great clouds of haze. The alliance army halted and made a protective camp, knowing full well that a desert storm was about to descend upon them.

The wind became calm for a time. Then with unbridled force it began to assault the alliance camp, and the sand that rested upon the desert ground was thrust high into the air. The gale intensified even further, and sight became impossible amidst the dark, blowing sand. Terrifying lightening began to strike upon the camp, and the captive orcs found themselves deceptively alone amidst the raging storm.

The storm was long and furious, and did not willingly desist. As it roared, faint cries and screams arose from amidst the camp. After a time, the screams died down and disappeared, and there was no sound but the gruesome winds.

Suddenly, as quickly as it began, the storm lessened and then disappeared, revealing a bright afternoon that was just beginning to subside into evening. The darkness of the storm still loomed to the south, but no longer threatened the alliance camp. Now that the sands had cleared, the clan could finally see the source of the alliance screams.

All across the camp, there was death. Countless of the alliance warriors lay dead on the ground, cut down from an invisible attacker, of which there was not a single sign. The surviving soldiers, who still numbered much greater than the dead, were busy shouting and screaming futile arguments at each other. They were busy piling the dead, to prepare them for either burial or cremation.

Grulg turned and gazed at Uglutz, sand from the storm crusted in his eyes and hair. A grim, thoughtful expression was on his face, and a faint light of hope illuminated his eyes. "Onli gahk gruups yn da wurld culd cordinat an uttack yn a desurt storm wid sush presysin," he began to smile. "Ash gruup lies ded ad da Desurt Ruk, da victim ub da accurst drugon's ghaash. Anuter gruup lies yn bundage besyt meeb. Da ghak..." Vradish was silent for a moment, then continued, "Da ghak am da rust ub da skullcrusherclan!"

Ulgutz's eyes narrowed fiercely.