A Nephew's Tale

As usual his palms ached, a dull burning sensation he was so used to it was more irritation than pain. The heat didn’t help either; this land was damnably hot.
Sighing, he looked around himself for the umpteenth time. Nothing new to see, but he drank in the sights and sound regardless.
This place was so busy! Hundreds, no! Thousands of people of the Horde milling around. All armed, all busy. So unlike home in so many ways.
It had been a long journey, from the lands of the Frostwolf clan to Orgrimmar. A long and arduous trip, but one he had enjoyed immensely. His first chance to see the world! His first chance to see the Horde properly and more importantly, his first chance to find who he looked for.

He gestured at the troll barkeep, dropping a few more copper coins onto the bar in exchange for another mug of ale. Sipping it he smacked his lips, good stuff, nearly as good as the ale back home in the Valley. Enjoying the sensation of the alcohol coursing through his body he thought on his search.
He had to find her, though quite why he wasn’t sure. She had abandoned him, and not only that she had mutilated him before she left. He grimaced and wondered why, hadn’t she loved him? She had done her best to prevent him ever being respected by his people, a fact he had worked long and hard to overcome. The hideous scarring on his palms had been a burden, preventing him from wielding the axe, bow or sword. He’d tried, he’d endured the mocking from his peers and worse, he’d endured the pitying glances from his elders. He’d learnt to overcome the disability, learning how to use his whole body as a weapon and by the ancestors he’d beaten the mocking from the other boys and earned a change from pity to grudging, surprised respect from his elders in doing so.

He would find her, and he would ask her why she had done this to him. He would… kill her if he found her?
Would he? He didn’t know. Could he kill his own mother?
How would he even find her? His father had been reticent to help him, had been unwilling to describe her beyond the words he had heard so often “Beautiful, but twisted, damaged.”
He had other family, he was sure of it. Before she had mutilated him and left, back when he was little and happy she had often mentioned his uncles. Nazgor and Grim. Perhaps they could help him track her down? But… he would have to find them also.

He grunted again and raised his mug, downing the contents in one swift gulp. Time to go, time to start the search.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The troll barkeep watched the young orc leave. Another teenager thinking he was all grownup, looking for his place in the Horde. The young ‘un was short for an orc, slim but with a wiry looking strength. Clad in dusty travel clothes and with a staff strapped to his back.
Well, thought the troll, he had spent good coin and received an ale with less dregs, dirt, spit and urine in it than most of the customers in return. Good luck to him.

Brok’law sighed, why did everyone have to be so difficult?
He looked down with disdain at the crumpled form at his feet. He had ventured into the Cleft of Shadows, Orgrimmar’s dark underbelly, reasoning that it would be the best place to find information. He had been directed to find the goblin known as Gonff the Weasel, who was renowned for knowing nearly everything and everyone, and being able to find out anything and anyone he didn’t already know.
Gonff lay before him, bleeding and raving.

“I swear boss! I dunno who ya talkin’ about but I can find out!”

Brok’law kicked Gonff in the stomach, his heavy booted foot causing the goblin to double over in pain. “Find out. Meet me here tomorrow night goblin, or I’ll come looking for you again.”

The goblin wheezed in response and began crawling away. Brok’law assumed that meant the goblin would do as he asked.

Now he was alone he looked around himself, he’d drawn quite a crowd. Eyes were watching him from the shadows and he could hear whispered conversations.
So what? Let them watch and let them whisper. He’d find who he sought and damn anyone who got in his way.