Warsong Offspring - Chapter 1

Unlike the beginning of any grand tale, this one doesn’t start off with a stormy sky or a glorious battle or not even a child that gets shot straight out of the canals of his parent into a wall. No, this story starts as natural as it can be: A little orc, coming kicking and screaming out of his mother’s womb – albeit with some complications.

“A little small, ain’t he,” the burly male said.

“They’re all this small at this age, love,” The she-orc added with a fanged smile as she laid a hand on her mate’s back. Although she had a cheerful tone in her voice, worry could be seen in her eyes, fearing that she may have let her mate down. The orc pup had indeed been born smaller than usual, having been born prematurely.

“They be that. But... they said this one came early. He be fit to live?” The male tilted his head to the side as he peered at the orc pup who hung helplessly in his big hands. Squinting its eyes against the glaring sun, the brown, little toddler motioned its stubby hands in the air as it’s being inspected by its father, who grunted in thought, obviously new to such a thing.

“The shaman say his limbs are strong, but his breathing was something we worried about at first. He... seems to be doing well now, doesn’t he?” The she-orc glanced over the shoulder of her mate, looking unto the son she had delivered the day before. She had her fingers clenched into the cloth of her dress – not only out of anxiety, but so her dress wouldn’t get soaked either. Her strong, brown legs were dipped knee-high into the water as they stood in a river that bordered the clan village. Although surrounded by trees on either side, the slowly rising sun managed to shine perfectly in between all of them, casting a calm reflection upon the water.

“Gmh. That he does.” The male grunted as he looked the orc pup deep into its bright, brown eyes. “You seem eager enough to face whatever challenges that await you out in this world, little friend. Even came earlier than you were expected to.” With this, he lifted the little orc higher in the air, revealing his stubby features to a small gathering of orcs that stood waiting by the riverbank, observing the little ceremony from afar. Their hands were raised in the air in praise in the knowledge that the newborn has been approved by its father, denying it a premature death.

“Welcome to your clan and family, Kozgugore.”

An orc’s youth is not as violent as most may think. In the ensuing months, the little Kozgugore spent days in his parent’s hut, feeding himself upon the blood and milk from his mother’s bosom, Thrylka, and admiring the wooden figurines that would often be carved by his father, Thorg, which – incidentally – had to endure the toddler’s growing teeth as well, as in time, more and more little bite marks were found on the wooden wolves, talbuks and even clefthooves. A deadly premonition, so one would think.

There were days that his father randomly started talking to him about matters that Kozgugore had no idea existed whenever he was sitting on his father’s lap.

“Now hear here, Kozgu,” Thorg would say. “You see them hides, over there?” He nodded to a bale of bright, white furs that laid piled up in a corner of the hut. The little orcling curiously followed his father’s gaze. “Those be talbuks’. Strong, proud beasts. Your father here hunts them with the other hunters whenever we go south. See, this be what them look like.” He gestured at one of the small, wooden figurines that rested by the little table in front of them. “This one day we hunted them, I got separated from the rest. It was a great chase before I finally got to drive me spear through some unlucky talbuk’s flank.” He prodded a thick, brown finger against the flank of the wooden talbuk that rested on the table. “See? The thing be, you don’t finish them off quick enough, them will call out to the others. I was on me own, so aye...” The orc shrugged his shoulders as the orcling looked up to him, curiously inspecting his father’s brown, stubbled features, although he most likely barely understood a thing of what Thorg truly was saying. “So I got me some company. Two talbuks, one male, even. Them were about to go right at me, were it not for a little trick I was taught by me own father to scare talbuks away.”

For centuries, orcs have survived on the plains and forests of Draenor simply by passing on knowledge from orc to orc. Legend nor skill is remembered by books or monuments. After all, such things only make for more clutter among the far more useful, domestic mess in an average orc’s hut. No, nothing beats teaching our young by simply orally passing on old habits from generation to generation. And what we have here, is one of such examples at its finest.

“You scream at them! And make yourself look just as big and scary as your mother!” Thorg burst out, putting up his ugliest face in an attempt to imitate an angry she-orc during a bad period of the month – a sight every brave orc mate is familiar with – as he roared down at his little son.

Being no talbuk himself, however, all the little orcling did was giggle in glee.

Life was good in the clan village. Hunters hunted, mates prepared wholesome meat, and orcs celebrated as one after another festival passed.

His father being a hunter, little Kozgu often saw some of the hunters his father worked with. Especially for a little toddler, they were quite something to behold. Trophies of past hunts adorning their necks and leathers, often returning carrying skins or even entire animals over their broad shoulders. He would often admire them as they passed his parents’ hut, pretending the wooden, little figurines were his own preys, and that their wooden fur made for a good trophy; which would certainly explain a thing or two about all those bite marks.

One time when they returned from a hunt, however, something entirely different happened. He wasn’t preying his little figurines or trying to squeeze their wooden lungs tight or anything (as he was taught by his overly eager father, much to the dismay of Thrylka). Instead, he simply sat there in front of their hut, while it was obvious something was awry. The wind seemed to live a life of its own around him.

Little, brown leaves fluttered in front of him in a circle, and all the little toddler did was laugh and giggle at them as he extended his chubby fingers time and time again to try and snatch them. Little did he know that his parents were watching in awe from a distance. It would seem, after all, that the elements like to choose them young.

For them, it was a sight to remember.

For him, they were just cowardly, little leaves that didn’t want to be caught.

((Feels a bit wrong to dirty up a topic this clean, but anyway. I think this story is awesome, and that's not even because you usually pay me to say these things.

In all honesty, it depicts an image of orcs that has been "lost" during the intent raping of blizzard lore, and offers a brief insight to an orc's birth. It's far from the usual orc "Mluuh, murder" and yet it's definately not human. It takes skill to write such a thing, and have it believable.

I love how the characters are introduced, especially since I know a bit of Kozgugore's story from before, and how you work them into the storyline without making it seem repetative or strange.

You impress me, my dear!))

(( Definitely captured my attention right from the beginning, i absolutely love simplicity in stories, the good kind of. I very much enjoyed this, thank you. ))

just goe's to show how little i actually knew about your back ground kozzle ^^ i look forward to more!

(( What a cutie you were, Kozzles. Too bad all that cuteness has been replaced by grumpiness. Try to get some of it back, I say. ))

I do like this. You have some skill with words, and in the flavour of the story there's a lovely mixture of something that's familiar enough to resonate with the reader, and something (as Morgeth mentioned) very orcish and wild and not too human. So aye, a really really nice read and I'll be looking forward to seeing more.

Haha! I can never get enough of the old classic (but crude!) Kozgugore humour! And I have to agree completely with Morgeth, you seem to really have captured the true nature of Thrall's orcs in my opinion. You definitely didn't protray the stereotypical "BWAH! Me kill!" orc that Blizzard painted. Well done! I'm really enjoying all these orc stories - haha! ;)

Blood and milk? Yuck! What kind of abnormal you-know-what do you orcs have - haha! I didn't know baby orcs were like the Maasai either ;).