The first thing he was aware of, was the pain.
A sudden, deep and agonizing breath rocked his body to it’s very core. It was followed by haggard, groaning gasps as his senses were overwhelmed. To mingle with the pain was panic, shock, confusion, and more. Previously limp limbs suddenly curled around the nearest surface and gripped with a desperate ferocity. The way the muscles of his arms bulged, making the veins just underneath the skin tense hard enough to protrude outward, it would have been easy for most any object to be crushed. Bit his arms curled around stone digits just as thick as they, a fact he only dimly noted as adapting to the pain was higher on his list of priorities.
It ebbed slightly, ever-present but enough for some stray thoughts to reach his panicked mind. He remembered now, knew where he was. Why he was there too, though not why he was still breathing. With a portion of his mind partially clear he became aware of the hot sun beating down on him, and the breeze. It was likely gentle, but he didn’t quite have the faculties to ascertain that. With a gasp he began to move, and quickly found most conventional motions impossible. Lifting his leg, which was proving to be an arduous chore in and of itself, his soles scrabbled and scrambled until they found purchase upon the great stone thumb. He pushed, but achieved nothing. He gasped again, and tried once more. Still nothing.
He felt something then, a surge of defiance. With an angry roar that he managed despite the agony he was in, Garrosh Hellscream summoned every ounce of strength left within his form and pushed his foot downwards with all his might. Firs there was a creak, then a crack. Then the sound of shattering stone, and the monolithic digit crashed to the ground. His weight carrying him now, the former Warchief slid free of the closed stone fist, crumpled to the ground face first and lost consciousness.
When next he awoke, he found his situation marginally better. Instead of his flesh harried by constant pain, he found that the sensation had dulled and only intensified with too much movement. This made getting to his knees quite difficult, but he managed. He felt... raw. Exposed, like an open sore. Of which he likely had a few of, though now in the darkness it was hard to confirm. He had been out awhile.
Chapped lips opened, and his dry tongue lapped at the insides of his cheeks. He was thirsty, so thirsty. With a groan, half-interrupted by a frustrated growl, he began to crawl across the clearing. It was not a pretty sight, especially when his knees buckled from the pain. Yet still he continued, using only his arms and small movements from his hips to carry him forward.
It was a clear night, a beautiful night really. The only sound the occasional insect or bird call in the distance. So when he ceased his crawling at the edge of the clearing he could hear it; water. Running in what was likely a stream, just down the slope. His breathing was haggard again, and his strength threatened to abscond. His only option seemed clear, and with one last surge of exertion he pulled himself over the peak and let his body roll down the slope. He struck a rock or two, and the experience no doubt irritated his already awful injuries. But he had no other option.
It couldn’t have been much later when he next opened his eyes. It was still dark, after all. His hand was cold... and with a shift of is head it became clear why, submerged as it was within the very stream he sought. His thirst overcame the pain of moving, at least for now, and he took handfuls of the clear waters and brought them to his lips. He must have done so for an hour, possibly more. When he was finally sated he, willingly this time, closed his eyes to rest.
areudirty
izzy806
kaledo-art
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
titsay
