Penance: Chapter 4 - Mourning

The walk up had been bland and uneventful. Unless you count listening to a Blademaster throw out whiskey induced belches and snarled insults to everyone and everything.

”And these Darkspear! Clueless! Can’t even run a grain exchange...  UURRp! –let alone a city... Pfah!” barked Koroto, leading the way up the spiral of steps.

He’s certainly not changed...

The pair wound their way up the steps of the road little by little. The paths above Orgrimmar were seldom walked, and few really knew of or had use for them these days. The Blademaster’s had once made good use of them however, and Koroto even claimed to have made his home atop this path, high above Durotar and the ‘stench’ of the city as he put it.

...not one bit.

”Here we are! Make yourself at home, Render.” Koroto waved over his shoulder as they turned and came to a small ravine. It was a dead end, had overhanging cliff edges and someone had even made a makeshift fur pile to sleep on. And left a dozen empty whiskey bottles all around...

spent his time wisely...

Koroto lumbered along to his fur pile, turned and planted his behind upon it with his back to the wall. With a long deep swig of whiskey he watched as Devilstep sat neatly on a small boulder opposite.

”So! Word on the street is you’ve been bad, again! Pfah! You attract trouble like a lamp draws moths! Pfah!” Koroto chuckled, gulping from his whiskey again.

’the street’, dependable. Probably got told by Ronakada...

He didn’t reply, simply grunted and looked about his surroundings. The sun had crept over the peaks now and even reached here, though it was a muddle of cool shadows.

Koroto snorted, seems he did not approve. Placing his left hand on the hilt of his huge war blade and planting aside his drinking jug he growled.

”What gives you the right to do crap like that eh? What makes you think you can just spit out judgements and go on as if nothing happened, eh!? Don’t ignore me render...” His lip was upturned, snarling with what he assumed was disgust.

...Should have brought the sword. But he’s is drunk...

”What’s the alternative? Turn into a depressed drunk hiding in the hills? What gave you the right to do what you did, hrm?” snapped Devilstep in return, his green eyes locking with the Koroto’s. He instantly regretted that rebuke.

Too close to the bone...

”How Dare you! How dare you dishonour me and my son!” Koroto leapt to his feet, with minor delay. His sword was slowly drawn...

...The Blademaster who had to kill his son, the son who sided with Hellscream...

”Koroto... put the sword down... I’m not going to fight you...” He spoke, firm but not threatening, but he knew it was too late to try and subdue him with words now.

”Don’t try to wriggle your way out of this one! Always with your tricks and your dammed tongue! Thanks to you my boy is dead!” Barked Koroto. He started to approach, slowly but with intent.

Really put your foot in it...

Devilstep stood, slowly, calmly. And began to circle in the opposite direction around the boulder he had sat on... keeping his once friend and now likely enemy a good distance from him.

”We all had a choice to make... you know this. You think I don’t regret organizing the northern Rebellion? I have blood on my hands! It was more than just your boy Koroto!” He snapped, he tone was ruthless now, taking no prisoners, he was resolute in his choice.

”Blood... blood!? What do you know of blood, sitting behind your chieftain, pulling strings!? I had to kill my own son! How can you speak of blood!?” He roared, his lungs emptying with fury... but he didn’t charge. Instead, he fell to his knee’s... and wept.

Spirits give me strength...

Krogon stopped and lowered his cowl. All he felt was pity now, not hostility. His friend had lost something dear to him, the son he had trained himself from a pup, and now he had surrendered completely to despair...

And so he stood there, powerless to help, listening to a warrior weep...[/b]