Chapter Four - 'I strive fer a glorious death...'

Chapter Four - 'I strive fer a glorious death...'

Was it a constant anger that rushed through his body, or was he losing hope? Was it sorrow? Had Utal spoken the truth? He didn't know himself, he had to see for himself! It was quiet and peacefull, for once, almost too quiet. The hours he spent riding through Elwynn Forest these questions was the thoughts that his mind played with, he returned to reality as he heard the whistle of a bolt, which struck him in the shoulder. He snarled slightly and leaned forward, holding onto the reins in order not to fall of. He was tired, way too tired to fight - He glanced over his shoulder and spotted two bandits in a tree by the road, red masks, perhaps these 'Defias Brotherhood' that rumours had told him about. At the border to Redridge Mountains he could barely keep his eyes open so he decided to settle down for a couple of hours, he tired his horse to a branch that he hoped would hold it in place - Removed the most uncomfortable pieces of his armor, swung his axe into the ground and used it as an armor rack, quite usefull actually. He sat down at first, leaned back against the tree as a quiet sigh escapes his lips, he glanced up against the sky, gazing at the stars that one after one disappeared. He shook his head to himself, as he tipped his wolfskull down over his face, he closed his eyes and before one could say 'Arathorian' he had fallen asleep.

Slowly he opened his eyes and blinked once, he adjust his helmet back in place - Somewhere close he could hear metal clashing against metal, he sighed and pushes himself standing, he turned to his axe and buckled, strapped and tugged his armor back in place before ripping his axe out of the ground and mounted his horse, he untied the reins as he was placed in the saddle. He rammed his heels into the side of the horse, which set off in a gallop. Within the time of a couple of minutes he could spot what apparently was a guard, fighting some.. Hyena like creatures? - He slapped the reins against the horse long throat and set off against the battle, as he was in range for an attack he decided to grip his axe with his left arm, hurling it for one of the gnolls, the gnoll peered up at the flying axe and blinked, before it was too late. Instantly the gnoll fell onto the ground, his head cut in two. The other one quickly decided to flee, but the guard stabbed him down with two quick thrusts toward the neck as Vasgar had caught his attention. Pantingly the guard peered up at Vasgar and narrowed his eyes.
Thank you, m'lord... - He catched his breath and peered Vasgar over twice and smiled within his helmet.
These damn gnolls.. Always managed to take you by surprise. - He bowed his head slightly.
Nae worries, kid. Per'aps ye shou'd ditch tha' 'elm o' yers, Jes PER'APS ye'll be able ter 'ear something. - He grinned wolfishly and slung his axe onto his back, strapping it in place.
Yeah, perhaps. I'll consider it! - He nodded once, with a heartily chuckle.
Don't let me hold you from your trip, surely you were heading somewhere. I owe you one and I wish you the best of luck. - He seath his sword slowly and peered around.
Hrrm.. Thank ye, goin' ter Arathi. - Vasgar smiled vaguely and gripped the reins with his right hand.
Oh.. Quite a ride then, well as I said - Best of luck to you! - He saluted Vasgar shortly and mumbled yet another 'Thanks'.
Nae worries, nae worries... - He kicked the side of the horse again and set off in a rapid gallop.

Without an hestitation he simply rode through Lakeshire, guards aswell as bridgeworkers raised their fists in anger and yelled insults after him. He thought for himself 'Per'aps I shou'd get used ter all o' 'em insults...' he shook his head, which had proven to be a quite common gesture. Swiftly and cautiously he rode through Redridge, which remind him alittle of Arathi - The land itself was quite dry, but still.. Nothing is like home, -nothing-. Peering to his right, behind a huge stone block he found two orcs, tending to a couple of wounds, no doubt they had met an adventurer, or perhaps even a guard, or a gnoll... Alot of possibilities, atleast that's what Vasgar thought. Last time he passed Burning Steppes he's had alot of luck, no assaults, there are even dragons here! Dragons, orcs, giants? .. Some.. rock creatures and.. whatnot. He prayed to what gods that existed that he would survive it once more. He nodded for himself and let out a rather loud 'Hee-yah!', slamming his heels into the horses' side once more - Swiftly he rode over the worn bridge, it was a long way, still it was morning, but judging by the landscape one couldn't sleep for long, the heat would make your blood boil! That someone actually lives here is quite amazing, at that moment he had a hissing sound, followed by another couple of hissing sounds - A couple of lizard like creatures on four legs, with two arms armed with glaives and spears had apparently spotted him, if not heard him. He turned up to gaze at a hill, the steaming hot sun blinded him but he managed to see three of these creatures ontop of a hill, staring at him with a burning stare - This was not an opponent he'd like to fight, not that he had doubts on himself, but he wanted to pass through this burning inferno with all his limbs left on his body. He slapped the reins against the horses' neck again to make it gallop faster, to escape the lizards, not that he thought they would chase him, but you can never be too sure.

The hours passed and he'd had to take a longer route to sneak past a group of ogres, which he managed to do without any bigger problems. Far in the distance he could see the mountain that he had passed through to get to Stormwind, somehow he regret that he didn't visit Arathi first, but what's done is done and there's nothing you can do to change that. Once more he managed to pass through Burning Steppes in one piece, he jumped of his horse as he reached the bridge to the Blackrock Mountain and lead it up towards the huge gates, the structure resembling two dwarven faces - It was a beautiful and magnificent work, no doubt it was dwarvish. Slowly he remembered something, he turned to his shoulder and noticed the bolt stuck in it, had he been in that deep throughts, to ignore the pain caused by a bolt? He gripped the bolt and ripped it out, he snarled quietly and grit his teeth in pain, he peered at the horse and let go of the reins. He took a step forward and opened a pouch, out of it he pulled a banadage. He lift his shoulderpad up enough in order to get access to the wound and bandaged it tightly, at that very second his horse neighed slightly and turned, setting off for freedom - He stopped breathin for a second, then let out a deep and annoyed sigh, he shook his head at his own and clumsy mistake, adjusting his shoulderpad back in place. He unstrapped his axe and took hold of it, sliding it off from his back and gripped it with his right hand, leaning it against his shoulder and neck area, marching into the mountain.

Deep within the mountain he could hear a harsh and dull echo saying 'Lok'tar Ogar!' followed by a yelp of pain, he increased his walking pace slightly and peered around cautiously and curiously, this surely wasn't a human. He spotted two armored humanoids fighting five shorter humanoids, dwarves? He scratches his cheek with his left hand and started running, he took of to his right - Which would lead him to the back of the dwarves, from there he would decide wether to help them, or kill them. In a high pace he approached the dwarves and by the look of it, it was humans they were fighting, heavily built humans with axes. He let out a loud warcry as he unseath a throwing axe with his left hand and hurled it for one of the dwarves and hit his neck, a slight crack could be heard for those who were close enough as the dwarves sailed down for the ground - He gripped his axe with both of his hands and charged for the dwarves, in his last visit he had learned that the black skinned dwarves wasn't friendly, but had 'spared' his life, or just decided to leave him alone. The humans managed to cut down one of the dwarves, two was left - Vasgar swung his axe for one of the dwarves' legs, sure they were short and many would consider that a stupid attack, but on the ground you're more or less helpless at that length, especially if your foe is twice your size. The dwarves let out a shriek of pain as he fell over onto his knees, only to have his right shoulder cleaved by another axe. The last dwarf wasn't much of a challange, three against one - He quickly end up dead himself. Vasgar breathed heavily as he stared at the humans, through their helmets he could notice a slight green skin, was it orcs? Both of the orcs lowered their weapons and removed their helmets, breathing quite heavily themselves.
We.. thank you.. for help, human. - One of the orcs said on a half rusty common, the other one simply stood still.
Yer... welcome, orc. - Vasgar replied, narrowing his eyes with a ferious snarl.
We had.. expected you to.. at... attack us, you came running screaming. - The orc laughed loudly for himself.
Ter be honest, I dun' 'ave much love fer these dwarves, an' ... I dun' kno' yer people tha' well ser, hrrm... - Vasgar smiled vaguely as he leaned his axe back against his shoulder.
We orcs fight your people, old hatred me thinks. - The orc narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
Aha.. well, as far as I kno' I'm odd compared ter most humans, nae intention o' bein' rude but I shou'd be on me way. - He tilt his head slightly and eyed the orcs over, not even a drop of their blood had been spilled.
Strength and honor, human! We remember you! - The orc slammed his chest twice, saluting him. The other orc nodded in agreement, even thought he had no idea what has been said, saluting Vasgar aswell.
Strength an' honor... Strength an' honor! - Vasgar replied and slammed his own chest twice, with a nod. He walked past the orcs who laughed loudly, kicking the dwarven corpses, talking in their own native tongue.

He left the depths of The Blackrock Mountain and continued into the Searing Gorge, luckily It wasn't as warm as Burning Steppes, but it was still enough heat to make your sweat roll down along your face. 'Strength an' honor' he thought, It was a good phrase - Explaining alot to those with an open mind, to a warrior. Something he had missed last time he swept through these lands was the amount of wildlife, riding on a horse surely makes you focus alot of where you rides - But when you're moving by feet you can play with alot of thoughts and looks around keep an extra eye open on your surrounding. The amount of huge orange-like spiders crawling along the mountain walls was huge, everywhere you turned - There they were, no doubt they would kill a cow with a single bite, he shivered by the thought of wrestling one. He heard yet another scream, he peered around slightly and spotted a couple of adventurers, no doubt, fighting a group of dark iron dwarves but sighed, by the look of it they would make it out of it alive so he simply carried on his walk. It wasn't his business and it could cost him his life, even thought the chance was little - You never know. By nightfall he could spot the route which would lead him into what he thought was dwarven territory, he was tired, with the heat of a thousand burning lakes of fire combined with endless walking, it could tire anyone. It was midnight by the time he entered the Badlands and immediately he started looking for a fitting spot, where he could sleep during the night. He could spot a place up in a mountain, a small plateau covered by several bushes and a small palm, it would require alot of climbing, but he was used to, climbing was a part of good training. The dry landscape made it slight slippy in the sand like mountains, he struggled alot but after a quarter he was up - With a sigh he removed his wolfskull and wiped his forhead clean from sweat, he closed his eyes and clenched his hand into a fist, with his index finger pointing out - Slowly he ran the finger along the repulsive scar on his face, thinking back at the time, the pain from the stone dagger, the pain from watching his wife and child being eaten by trolls, his breathing increased in speed. It wasn't worth it, he coughed silently and adjusted his wolfskull back and once more removed most of his armor, using his axe as an armor rack. He shuffles slightly in the sand to make it comfortable, then tipped his wolfskull over his face and closed his eyes, drifting away into a dream.

He woke up by the scarcity of fluid, along with a sore and dry throat - He reached out for his waterskin and uncorked it, pouring the remaining water into his mouth, swalling it slowly. He opend his eyes and adjust his wolfskull as an eagles shriek could be heard, echoing over the dried landscape, through the mountain - As if it was a message bouncing against the mountains, to reach Vasgar. He pushed himself standing as he snarled, the sleeping position apparently wasn't the best choice, the pain that was placed in the lower area of his back was huge - He stretched slightly and bit his lip, armoring himself, strapping his axe back onto his back. Slowly and carefully he started to climb down, one thing he remembered was that It's always harder to climb down, than up. At that very second, when the thought swept through his mind he had grabbed a lose rock with his right hand which the mountain lost It's grip around, due to Vasgars weight. There wasn't even worth trying to regain another grip around something, he fell down towards the ground, knowing that this would hurt alot due to his axe, he did a brave attempt to spin in the air but end up flapping his arms as if he was on fire. Quickly he approached the ground and as he hit it everything went black.

Once more he woke up by the scarcity of water, the pain caused by the fall and the sound of a wolf, or cat animal prowling around him, snarling feriously. Without thinking he tried to push himself sitting but end up groaning, gritting his teeth - He tooks a deep breath and rolls onto his stomach, he opened his eyes and was face-to-face with a Crag wolf. It's foul breath and hot breath hit his face, drool pouring from It's teeth, Vasgar faced the stare, snarling passivly himself. Before he could blink the Wolf had hurled itself toward Vasgar with it's mouth wide open, aiming to bite him over his face, Vasgar quickly tilt his head, the result of his action gave the wolf a great possibilty to bite him over his neck, which it also took. Vasgar froze all of a sudden, the wolfs' teeth dug into his skin - He couldn't breath, he couldn't think clear - Was this it? The wolf slowly released Vasgar from his doom, it took two steps backwards and started staring again as if it was telling him to leave, had it given him a warning? Or did it attack because of fear? Did the attack have any purpose? Even thought his pain he forced himself onto his teeth and snarled again, in great pain. The wolf sat down and peering up Vasgar, with a more 'gentle' look, he raised a hand and touched the area the wolf had bitten him around - It was only on the surface of his skin, he shook his head and peered back down, directly into the wolfs' eyes again. After a little while of resting, the wolf started snarling again.
Aye aye, pup... I'll leave, next time ye dun' 'ave ter attack... - Vasgar leaned down slightly and reached out for the wolfs head, and by his surprise he was allowed to pat it. He scratched between and behind It's ears. He then adjusted his armor more comfortably after the fall and sighed, knowing that he still have a long way to walk. He smiled down towards the wolf and started walking once more, trying to ignore most of the pain.

He couldn't stop thinking of the wolf and It's odd behaved, surely a wolf would have finished him - Or would it? He pulled the straps, holding his axe on his back, one by one he opened them, he had never thought of the weight of his axe before, until now - Ten, fifteen kilos perhaps, not that It was heavy for Vasgar but it's still quite a weight for a weapon. As he pulled the last strap the axe fell towards the ground but end up hanging in an iron chain, which was strapped to his right shoulder. The Badlands was mostly filled with Crag wolves and prowling jaguars, alot of vultures could be seen, though. One could almost call this a desert, but perhaps a 'Wasteland' was a better word for it. The thought of lonliness filled his mind all of a sudden, what was the point with striving around alone? It's a waste of time, if you have a thought about it, unless you have someone to share the time with. He still loved Sonda, a female version of himself, a tall and muscular woman, but she still had feminie curves and the beauty of a young maiden, the temper of a bear, whom you'd end up infront of, blocking It's way for It's cub. She was perfect in Vasgars eyes, she had given him a son... A son, It's such a gift... But what he loved the most had been taken away from him, by those .. cursed trolls, death to all of them! He sighed, all of a sudden alot of sweat was pouring down along his face, or was it sweat...? He blinked twice and noticed that he was crying, crying?! He coughed to himself as if he was ashamed, surely a warrior like himself wouldn't cry over such a cause, or would he? Crying ain't a crime, but it shows weakness.. Atleast that's what alot of people claim, even thought the truth is that one shows feelings, emotions - And that surely ain't a crime!

Four hours past noon he had walked once more without a break, hungry and thirsty. Above the small cliffs and mountains he could spot high and green treetrops - He was close to Loch Modan now, thank god! Dry land, a lake nearby along with a town. Once he arrived to Thelsamar he would buy himself a flagon of mead and a steady meal, rest for an hour and then continue his way for Arathi. By the lap of an hour he could see the town, and also hear the merry laugthers of the dwarves - He increased his walking speed, even though he'd rather drop dead onto the ground at the moment, another five minutes passed and he took of to his left, ending up on a road which lead him directly into the town. Alot of dwarves apparently remembered him from his last visit, many of them bid him welcome and others simply waved. He walked directly for tha tavern, snarling slightly in a smile towards all of the dwarves, atleast here he was treated like a person and not a beast.

As he came into the tavern he more or less ran up to the desk, with a hoarse voice he bend down, smiling at the Innkeeper.
Welcome back, Worg.. That was yer name, aye? - The innkeeper chuckled heartily and smiled widely.
Aye, tha's me name, erh.. Beardlin'. Flagon o' mead an' a grilled boar.. an' make it fast. - By the time Vasgar had finished that sentence he sniffed slightly and closed his eyes, smelling all the food. His stomach growled quietly.
Aye, aye. 'ave a seen and t'will be ready in 'alf an hour, want tha ale now? - The innkeeper peered up towards Vasgar, smiling once more.
Tha'll der... - He nodded slowly.
Alright! Flagon o' mead comin' up! - The innkeeper turned and grabbed one of the larger flagons, filling it up to the edge, topping it with lather, he turned back to Vasgar and held the flagon up for him to grab it. Vasgar clenched his fist around the handle of the flagon and walked toward a table and pulled one of the chairs out, he sat down on it with a deep and long sigh. Finally something to eat, something to drink, he took a mouth full of his mead and sat the flagon back on the table. Half an hour passed and a waitress came out with a large plate, with the boar that Vasgar had ordered. She smiled as she sat it down on the table infront of him.
Would ye like cutlery? - She asked, with a charming smile.
Nae thanks, lass. I'll eat wiff me fingers. - Vasgar nodded and dismissed her by waving his hand, immediately he threw himself over the boar - Not thinking about the heat he dug his fingers into the rib area of the boar and ripped several of them out, eating without any kind of manners. He was afterall, quite primitive and hungry like a wolf!

He sucked the last bone clean from meat, gnawing on it slightly before leaning backwards in his chair with a quiet grunt, he grabbed his flagon and chugged down the last of his mead. He spent almost an hour, simply sitting down, letting the food 'melt', so to say. He pushed himself standing and head over to the Innkeeper, he rumaged through a pouch and pulled up a golden coin, dropping it on the desk, it bounced slightly and end up spinning.
Keep tha' rest, yer worff it... ye 'ave good cooks an' an amazin' ale, lad. - Vasgar nodded slightly and pat his stomach, with a slight grin curled up on his lips.
Owh, many thanks lad! Blessin' o' tha' titans upon ye! - The innkeeper eagerly snatched the still spinning golden coin from the desk and tossed it down into some sort of cashbox. With his food and ale payed Vasgar gave the innkeeper another quick nod and left for the exit.
Good luck on yer travels an' yer welcome back! - The innkeeper laughed again, waving Vasgar goodbye.

The route through Wetlands was quick, It was almost a straight line he'd had to walk now, then he'd be home, home in Arathi with his brethren. He remembered that he had forgotten to fill his waterskin and head for a dwarven outpost and got it refilled four a couple of silver, he wasn't that used to trading with coins but that was what you did today, he was used to exchanging favours. With a full waterskin he knew he'd make it to Arathi before nightfall and if needed he'd hunt down some raptor, or crocolisk in Wetlands for food. It's not the most tasty meat but It'll go down atleast, he gave a patrolling guard a nod and walked past him, the dwarf opened his mouth to say something but decided not to, since Vasgar apparently wasn't that interested. He marched down along Dun Algaz and stared out into the distance, he could see the mountains in the distance - The mountains that he used to climb as a child, the mountains in Arathi. With his new strength and full stomach he started to march alittle bit faster, not much but it was something, he had to march in a fitting tempo not to get tired before nightfall, nightfall has it effects, tend to make one tired, odd but true. As he neared the end of Dun Algaz he could hear alot of footsteps behind him, he peered over his shoulder and spotted a group of six orcs, all armed with heavy weapons. He let out a slight grunt and turned, deciding to run. Six against one was abit too much, especially if It's orcs, they are tough like hardened leather. The orcs set off after Vasgar as he started running, one of them hurled a throwing axe after Vasgar but it hit his shoulderpad, extremely close to his head and simply bounced further into the tunnel. Vasgar breathes heavily now, if he was caught this would be the end of him, he more or less bounced down the tunnel and leaped of the last stairs that lead into the Wetlands. He slipped slightly as he hit the rather wet stone endowed road, he quickly regained his balance and continued running, his long legs gave him advantage with the running bit, also he had the endurance to run for atleast an hour if needed. As he came further into the swamps he peered over his shoulder and the orcs had given up, one of them smacked another down onto the ground in anger, screaming something in their native tongue to him. He kept running for another ten minutes, before slowing in slightly, he bent over and placed his palms upon each of his knees, catching his breath.

He rested for a while before deciding to continue, the chase had saved him alot of time, but it surely wasn't needed. Now he could take it quite easy, he would make it to Arathi, unless he was jumped by something, or someone and end up wounded seriously. It was rather quiet, knowing that there are gnolls aswell as raptors, crocolisks, murlocs, orcs and even Dark Iron dwarves here. He didn't complain, he let out a sigh of relief, most of the beasts here wasn't even a threat but still, It would take time to kill one, which would end up annoying if there were animals that would attack him time after time. Three hours passed and the sun had set, he was by Don Modr now, not far from the Thandol Span, a couple of Bronzebeard dwarves was fighting a stronghold of Dark Irons, shooting and throwing bombs, idiotic but brave, or perhaps just idiotic.. bah, dwarves. He kept to the shadows close to the mountains, sneaking past the whole battle, once again that's not his battle and he couldn't care less, he just want to get home. He ran towards the Thandol Span and smiled as he reached it, slowly and cautiously he walked over it, from below he could hear voices, loud voices. He rattled his head from side to side and laughed, he decided to run over the bridge. Piece by piece Arathi puzzled up infront of him, the golden plains adorned with green tree crowns and majestic beasts. The moon had started climbing the night sky and thousands, thousands of stars, of fallen soldiers had taken their glorious stop upon the sky - He peered up towards it thoughtfully, he had a goal, one last goal in life, to strive for a glorious death.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, he held it in for almost a minute before he opened his eyes, once more peering over the glistening sky - He exhaled slowly and smiled proudly to himself, he split his lips open and whispered 'I am home...'