Bad Omens

‘In blood n' love shared, this wolf never walks alone.’

The sentence ringed through his mind, a vow once given to him in a pact of blood. So long ago, yet its voice was still as clear and pure as it had sounded the day Kozgugore Feraleye first heard it. He found himself on that same cliff in Nagrand, overlooking the vast, rolling hills of the Land of Winds that stretched out in front of him. It was a land of many joyous memories, yet something was off about it tonight. A reflection of the moon in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A knife, its tip decorated with dried and caked blood, lying in the grass. He leaned down to pick it up, inspecting its blade and simple handle. His old hunting knife.

As he gazed into the reflection of the blade, he could see his eyes in between the drops of dried blood. Dark, red eyes, just like they were on that day those years ago that they stood here, exchanging blood and vows. He could see an old, long gash along his face, and many other small marks that time had left upon the orc’s face. And he could see it over his shoulder, behind him. Someone approaching him. He turned around and watched as the dark figure walked closer to him, its body and silhouettes figured like that of a bared female, but all of its features indistinctive and black, like a shadow seen through a dusty curtain. It reached out to him, its limbs curling around him in what could have been an embrace, but then became a lecherous grasp, fingers and nails tearing at his back and his features. He could almost see a hint of a malicious grin in the shadow’s features, but then just as he cried out to the pain upon his skin, it started screaming along with him. He could feel his flesh being torn apart, warm blood oozing down along his neck and his back. Just as the pain started to seem unforgiving and fatal, the shadow enveloped him and swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but darkness, and the whisper of a spirit far away, a brusque voice uttering something from a time long passed.

‘Desperate orcs do dangerous things. Be patient, because vengeance is too.’

Kozgugore jerked awake, surprised he had slept at all. The bed he found himself in was too small, tailored to human sizes, and the room dark and damp, with but a small window offering a glimpse of the sea with a fresh sunrise. He sat himself upright, placing his feet on the floor as he dragged a hand over his sweaty features. He might have fooled himself that the dream was the fault of his own drinking the evening before that, but this was not much of an exception from any of his other nights that involved any less drinking – or none at all for that matter. It was a certain state of mind that plagued him with these constant dreams and nightmares. Or even spirits that sought it fit to pester him with vague messages and prophecies. If anything, the drinking made it easier for him to go to sleep without any such predetermined fear of what the next dream would bring. He rose up, stretching his bare limbs and rolling his shoulders atop a back carved with runes made in a vow of blood as his bones cracked in protest. He made his way to a bowl of water, sinking his head into it for a few seconds before he rose back out from it with a cleared-up mind and conscience. As he lazily walked to the small window, water flowing down his bared body of scarred tissue like a mountain of waterfalls, he gazed outside. Exotic birds flew from over the town of Booty Bay into the jungle canopy. Sailors, merchants, dockworkers, pirates and buccaneers alike worked along the outstretched docks of the port town run by greedy misfits and cutthroats. Clearly he was far away from whatever dream that brought him elsewhere.

By the time he finally found himself down on those same docks, the sun had already risen to the top of a clear, blue sky. His eyes scanned the many piers as he attempted to seek a half-trustworthy captain, which seemed to him much like looking for a Frostwolf in a snowstorm in a place like this, to secure the tribe’s voyage back to Kalimdor. His eyes fell on a particularly weathered goblin who looked distinguished enough to be a captain as well as knowledgeable enough to know his way around Kalimdor’s shores.

‘You plan to sail to Kalimdor?’ Feraleye asked as he approached the small creature.
‘I might be, big guy,’ the goblin answered in a most disinterested manner. ‘Whadda ya want?’
‘Secure passage,’ the orc grunted as he took out a small sack that sang with coin inside as he waved it in front of the goblin captain. ‘For a troop of orcs with no questions asked.’
‘No questions asked, huh?’ the captain replied as his greedy, little fingers snatched at the sack of coin. The chieftain lifted it high enough to be out of reach as he subtly shook his head. ‘Heh. I can do that. If the price is good enough.’ The goblin gave the orc a good and inquisitive stare, judging the orc’s value for such a trip. He then slowly raised a finger towards him, as if to measure him down. ‘You’re a wanted orc,’ the goblin eventually concluded.
‘You be likely a wanted pirate,’ the orc grunted in return. ‘That may just as well make us kin. Were I five heads shorter and a lot greedier.’
‘Ha!’ the goblin let out an amused chuckle as he folded his arms conclusively. ‘I bet I could get an even better price bringing your head to Hellscream! You’ll have to up the stakes, pal. Say twenty gold an orc.’
‘Then you overestimate whatever bounty might be on our heads.’
‘Could be, could be,’ the goblin pouted back to Feraleye. ‘But all this smuggling, it’s a risky business. I gotta get worth my trouble if I’m going to ship a bunch of lunatic orcs across the Great Sea.’
‘I will keep your generous offer in mind when the very last rowboat be departed from these shores,’ the orc grumbled disapprovingly as he turned around to be on his way. The goblin squawked on a little about a ‘bargain’ and some ‘crazy deal’, but the orc would have none of it. He continued a few paces down the docks when a presence caught his eye in a small alley beside him, a cloaked figure that, judging from the glint of two beady eyes from underneath the hood, had its attention caught by him in return. A hushed voice, making it unclear what race or gender the hood may be hiding, reached out to him.
‘I might have that secure passage you may be looking for, king of wolves. For a simpler price. An exchange.’
Feraleye’s attention piqued, he turned towards the mysterious presence as he gave it a subtle nod.
‘I be listening.’

Intriguing. How came i wandered to these pages only now.

They're quite well-hidden!