A Meeting of Friends.

by **erwtenpeller** Fri Mar 29, 2013 10:05 pm

Bloodnose and me wrote this story together in anticipation of the coming events in Mists of Pandaria, and to illustrate what a civil war in the horde means on a very personal level.

A Meeting of Friends.

“Dun worry young’un, dat’ll mend before ya turn inta a gal.” Bloodnose patted the young warrior on the bandaged shoulder, drawing a few chuckles from the others gathered around the campfire, as well as a harsh glare from Tragonna. He met her hard-faced glare with one of his own, unflinching until she finally looked away. Truth be told, he enjoyed the little struggles of power and found them comfortingly reminiscent of times long past.

He settled back on the large boulder, looking over the small circle seated on the ground. It wasn’t a large mob, but they were his and he was proud of them. Behind them, outside the circle of light that the fire provided, the other mobs of the warband made their meals and swapped stories on the outskirts of the warcamp. The Kor’kron hotheads hardly bothered any of Blood Guard Vullgor’s mobs. Maybe they were too worried about getting into a scrap with the veteran warriors the orc had gathered under his banner, or maybe they just didn’t care about a relatively small warband that seemed fanatically loyal to the Horde. Whatever the reason, it was alright with Bloodnose.

Looking over his group he took in the familiar sounds and scents of the warcamp. The campfires, the food and the ever present smell of too many bodies close together. Looking over Toorok, a warrior no older than Warcaller Stonepaw, he discerned another familiar but wholly out of place shape. Squinting into the darkness beyond the circle of fire he sniffed the air and smiled slightly. “What is it?” Toorok asked, assuming Bloodnose was looking at him rather than into the darkness behind him.

“Duck.” Bloodnose said calmly, waving the warrior down. Surprised and taken off-guard the young orc turned his head instead and was treated to a sharp smack in the head with a bone-club. Toorok’s head snapped sideways with the blow, spraying a tooth out towards the campfire before he keeled over. Quicker than others Tragonna was on her feet, axe drawn and ready to pounce at the shadowy assailant who stood over Toorok’s unconscious body.. Smiling from ear to ear Bloodnose forestalled the others with a gesture of his hand, ignoring the quizzical looks he got from the warriors. Tragonna lifted a lip in a snarl and charged at the shade, ignoring the veteran’s “advice”.

The shadows moved quickly to meet Tragonna, a cackling blur of limbs as he sidestepped her head-long charge and drove a sharp kick into the back of her knee. She stumbled, swearing and cursing, before she howled out in pain as the boneclub connected with her elbow. The boneclub rose again as the attacker readied a blow for the back of her head. With a sharp slap the club connected, but rather than hitting the back of Tragonna’s skull it slapped into Bloodnose’s open hand. “Dat’s enuff...” Bloodnose rumbled, yanking the boneclub free from the attacker’s hand and giving him a quick slap across the head with his free hand. “...Doc.” He smirked at troll and his oldest, still living, friend.

Jahzeem grinned his tursks bare at the ancient orc, stepping into the circle of light with a confident swagger. The troll crouched down by the fire, in-between the two felled horde warriors. By the light of the fire, a dozy troll child with hair red as the flames of the fire became visible, clinging tightly to the wild leathers on Jahzeem’s chest. “Da Doctah ‘ad tah come see ya, mi blud. ‘Dere be a war brewin’...” Jahzeem’s grin slowly faded, as he looked at his oldest friend. “...’n ya be choosin’ da ‘rong side.” One of the other orcs around the fire jumped up with his, snarling at the slanderous words, puffing his chest up mightily and banging his axe against his shield. “Mancleaver! Allow me to teach this... Troll what happens to traitors of the horde!” The young warrior’s eyes darted back and forth between Jahzeem and Bloodnose, the orc obviously eager to prove himself against the troll interloper.

Bloodnose chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “Doc’s a slippery creepa, Run. Ya fink ya can take a geezah whot’s been takin’ scalps since ya sucked at da teet of ya motha like a cub?” Slightly taken aback by the older orc’s words the young one named Run backed down with a reluctant shrug. Jahzeem offered the young warrior little more then a glance, before adressing Bloodnose in a calm, but pressing tone. “Ya be knowin’ Garroshi da kinslayah be bad mojo, mi Blud. ‘Im be killin’ anee’un ‘dat be speakin’ ‘im bad, ‘n ‘im be messin’ wid’ blackah juju ‘den even da doctah wud’ be touchin’. ‘Im keel Vol’jin, ‘im keel Cairn... ‘Im be takin’ apart da ‘orde ‘dat all’ah us been buildin’. ‘Im be no war-chief ‘ah mine, mi Blud.”

Listening to his old friend Blood sat down quietly on a large rock covered with furs, stroking his braided beard thoughtfully. “Killaspeak, Doc. Da Tauren challenged ‘n wos bested, ‘n I dun believe da Warchief wud stoop ta ‘avin’ ya Chief killed like a creepa git. Nah son of ‘Ellscream wud suffa da dishonna on ‘is name.” Bloodnose grunted, tapping his chest at the mention of Hellscream to the grunted assent of his warriors. Jahzeem snorted, leaning forward a little tapping his tusk and pointing at Bloodnose. “Ya orkie ‘onnah be makin’ ya blind, mi blud. Da Kor’kron go where da warchief tell ‘dem tah go. ‘N where ‘dem go, bad mojo be followin’.” Bloodnose snorted, dismissing the remark with a gesture of his hand. “Dere’s some ‘otgobs whot fink dey speak fer da Warchief, callin’ demselves da voice of Garrosh. I say, if Garrosh knew ‘is voice sounded like da mewlin’ of whelps ‘e wud brooze dem gitz well proppa,” the berserker continued at length, gesticulating elaborately. “But you’ze rite fer ‘un fing. Dere’s a war comin’ ‘n ‘t ain’t against da bluebacks.” For a moment Bloodnose looked thoughtfully into the fire before spitting on the ground and eyeing the child clinging to Jahzeem. “Dat supposed to keep me from krumpin’ ya?” He smiled a little.

Jahzeem smiled back, a cunning smile, crowned by sharp eyes. “Even a mon like ya wud’ ‘esitate’ tah be stikin’ down a bambini, mi Blud. Even if ‘dat be lastin’ no longah ‘den a single breath, ‘dat be ‘nuff time foah me tah be runnin’ me slicah thru ya throat.” Jahzeem ran his boney fingers through the childs messy hair. It cooed a little in it’s slumber, too young to make much of her environment. “Ya make no mistake, mi Blud. If ya be ridin’ wid’ Garroshi ‘im pups ‘n ah be seein’ ya innah di ‘eart of da fite...” Jahzeem smirked at his old friend, speaking in a comradery tone, one reflecting years of friendship. “...Ya be da first ‘ah da pack ah be sendin’ tah be meetin’ ‘im ancestahs.” The orcs around the fire stirred, growling lowly, tensing and waiting for the Mancleavers inevitable signal to silence the insolent creature. Bloodnose himself bellowed a hoarse, throaty laugh, and the troll laughed with him. “Den ya best ‘ope ya bring me deff wifout da chance of me comin’ back, Doc, cuz I dun fink ya wud live ta creep anotha day if I did.” Bloodnose reached out slapped Jahzeem enthousiastically on the shoulder, mindful of the small child that clung to the Witchdoctor’s chest. “Ya still wif da Maraudas, Doc?” He asked, peering curiously at the troll.

Jahzeem let out a slightly amused snort. “Wid’ da orcies onnah Ozuji ‘er roof, ya tink she be lettin’ ol’ Jahzeemi go out ‘n crack some skalls? Nah me blud. Ah been at da islands, lookin’ aftah da lil’ ‘uns.” Jahzeem rose again, standing with his back crooked. The laughter faded quickly, and the troll’s forehead wrinkled into a frown. “Ah be ridin’ now, me blud. ‘Dere be friends ah need tah see befoah ‘dis cauldron be explodin’. Friends ‘dat soon goin’ tah ‘ave tah me makin’ da same choice ‘chuu ‘n me been makin’.”

Bloodnose nodded and reached into his belt, pulling free the Bloodseeker pendant and looking at it in the firelight. “Den do me a fava ‘n seek out da Chieftain. Tell ‘er dat da Mancleava’s word is still iron, ‘n dat da oaf I swore wif da ‘Ammer is still paid fer in blood. If dey choose ta stand against da Warchief, ‘t wud be ‘n honna ta find deff krumpin’ wif da Maraudas, and I’ll spare ‘em if I can... But make nah mistake Jahzeem. Dere’ll be many whot find deff if me ‘n me boyz find ‘em on da field.” Nodding solemnly he dropped the pendant in Jahzeem’s hand. “ ‘T least we’ll g--”

“Troll spy! Troll spy in the camp! Troll spy in the camp! Don’t stand there, capture him! Take him!” A voice cut off whatever it was Bloodnose had been saying as a small mob of orcs, unmistakably Kor’Kron, raced towards the campfire. Bloodnose’s shoulder’s sagged a little and he sighed, visibly irritated by the interruption. “‘N dere come da whelps yippin’ fer a bone,” he rumbled under his breath, turning around and ordering his warriors to their feet with a curt gesture of his hand. “Let’s see ‘ow da pups do when a pack ‘a wolves gives ‘em a bloody nose, eh?” The Mancleaver smirked, shrugging his shoulders loose before turning his head to Jahzeem. “Consida di--” Bloodnose snorted, realizing Jahzeem had already slithered off into the darkness. “Creepa git...”