Luk Runs Out

by **Sadok** Fri Jun 14, 2013 6:12 pm

Luk Vileclaw, Tales Thus Far:
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Luk Runs Out

Vileclaw's strange experiments in the Cleft's darkest corners have been reported to the Kor'kron. As they swoop down on the foul magus, he is struck on the head with an iron cudgel yet manages to escape with only minor brain damage.

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"Everything has gone yellow. Everything has gone wrong. I overslept. I stubbed my toe on a rock. I stood in worg-dirt. And they found it. They found it. Then they found me. This has not been a good morning.

Running. Running. Running. Running. Running. Running. Running. Stop!

Look around. Left to right. Searching. Spying. Checking. Everything is yellow. No, nothing.

Not a soul. Ha, ha-ha-ha. Soul.

Head spinning. Feet sore. Eyes dry. Nails digging into palm. Throat dry. Pupils darting about. Tunic damp with sweat. Beard itching. Teeth clenched. Belt loose. Tighten the belt. Belt tightened. That is better. Head spinning.

Nervous, apprehensive, concerned, on edge, antsy, tense, fretful, anxious, bothered, agitated, skittish, uneasy, worried, distressed, hysterical, aghast, fearful.

These are all words. They are synonyms. They all mean the same thing, more or less, no matter how many letters or syllables it takes to say. Why do we have so many names for one thing? I have just one name. My name is Luk. Luk is my name.

It is my name, it is me. I mean Luk, but Luk does not just mean me. Fortune... serendipity. That is all. I think. Why are there more bad words than good words? Luk is a good word. It knows other good words, has good friends. Good Luk kiss. Stroke of Luk. Luk of the draw. Better Luk next time. Luk runs out.

Running. Running. Running.

They found the cave. He told them. I think. He must have. They found the cave. Saw through the illusion. Dispelled the shield. Shone a light. Squeezed in. Moved through the tunnel. Squeezed out. Found it. Found them. The old ones and the new ones. One still alive. If that's life. I was not there. As Luk would have it.

I had it. I am the orc who can. I am the orc who could, who should not, who would, who must not, who did. And I did. And they did not like that. What was it they said? Oh, yes. Disgusting is the only word I have to describe it.

But it isn't. Abominable, ghastly, hideous, repugant, vile, detestable, shocking, vulgar, gruesome, horrid, foul, deplorable, monstrous, horrific, nauseating, odious, rotten, scandalous, revolting, awful, frightful, abhorrent, repellent, atrocious, reprehensible, wretched, terrible, despicable, repulsive, contemptible, horrendous, sickening, dreadful, pernicious, loathesome, just plain nasty.

Look at all the words I have to describe it! So many more than them. I am so smart and they are so unsmart. I am so ununsmart and they are so unununsmart. Maybe that is why they are chasing, why they will not stop chasing, why I must not stop running.

I am carrying a satchel. Leather and stitches. Nothing too fancy. Capacious interior. I have my apple. I have my light-bulb. I have a rock and four tomes.

Illusory Invocations, An Introduction. Forbidden Rites and other Rituals Necromantic. The Dark Grimoire. Big Brass Bombs. This is a list of things.

Have they stopped following? Running. Running. Look over shoulder. Be quick. Yes. Nothing. Where am I? Dirt. Dust. Dry. Desert. Decalescent. Lots of 'd' words. Durotar! Everything has its own internal logic. Patterns. Why am I the only one that can see the patterns? Just my Luk. Just me.

The shade and the cool and the city is long behind. And the hustle and the bustle and the everything and the nothing. Can't go back. Cave lost. Rescinded, abrogated, made void. Have to start over. Not a problem. Will just take time. And reagents. And gold. And privacy. And genius. I have all of these things. They are in my satchel.

Head spinning. So thirsty. Need to sit down before I die. Desert, dry, dizzy, death. Patterns.

If they find me, the pattern ends. The orc that could cannot. The orc that would cannot. Desert, dizzy, dry... disguise! Patterns. I can put on a mask and walk around and nobody will know it is me. I could wear a blindfold. Blind Luk. I could wear a female's clothes. Luk be a lady tonight. My name goes in so many directions. I could wear so many disguises.

I could cut my face open and let it bleed and let it dry and then my face would be brown and I could be Garrosh Hellscream. I would set up my own Horde in the dry, dusty desert and build forts out of mud and I would have subjects that loved me and made pretty things for me and told them how much they appreciated for me. I would find other mud forts to conquer and my Horde would grow and grow and grow.

I could get down on all fours and howl to the moon. Stop wearing clothes and learn to talk in barks and growls. Rrrrr... grrrr... bark, bark, woof. This is not so difficult. I may need to work on my accent. I could be a good wolf. Running around and ripping throats out with my teeth.

I could put out my arms and flap them and fly into the air like a bird. I would soar into the clouds, going up-up-up-up high and soaring through the clouds and maybe I'd sit and rest on a cloud if I got tired. I could speak in tweets and chirps and shit on people from above. It would be the good life.

...I could be a peon."