The broken wolf (Story about an orc named Mokal)
Everything started spinning around, images fading in and out. Voices echoed through his head. All he saw were two fel green orcs, who picked Sumtra up and let out an evil laugh.
“I suppose this one is young enough. I still don’t understand why he needs younglings.”
The other orc grunts, shaking his head as he bended over Mokal.
“He said that this would help us regain forces as our brothers and sister fell like sacks of blood during our invasion.”
The first orc Sumtra up with her loincloth, inspecting her.
“He’s going to use children as throwing bags?”
“Enough! He knows what he does. He has got us this far. The moment we find a way to release him and his student out of their… -jails- everything will be clear.”
The first one grunted, nodding as he took the crying child with him. The second orc took Mokal by the shoulder, laughing.
“I thank you, for being so weak. “
Mokal tried to create a glare on his face, raising his fist, only to see it stabbed into the ground by a sword. He roared, screamed, until the second orc kicked him in the face, leaving Mokal for dead with the several other, Mag’har orcs lying around him. The once prideful Warsong was defeated, beaten like a broken wolf.. No, like a dog, a dog who’s whelp had been stolen, a dog who failed.
Images appeared in Mokal his head while he was lying there, left for dead. Images of his first encounter with Ankagra, how she punched him, how they always argued. How he fell in love with her. Mokal saw a lot of his battles again, the ones in Ashenvale and Northrend. How he found his old home in Nagrand and how he met the Mag’har and his former Chieftain. The images were those of a beaten dog who was searching for a way to regain his pride. He succeeded, for a while, until he saw Sumtra again. His daughter, his sun and moon, his future. She was stolen from him, ripped out of his hands. He saw possible images of how the orcs were going to hurt her, use her as an experiment.
That moment, something snapped in the orc, the dog, slowly became the wolf he needed to be, he was trained to be! He snarled, as his eyes flew open, blood red. He let out a roar, a roar of anger, of bloodlust…. -Splash.. crack…- a disgusting sound filled the air as the orc pulled his arm through the blades, blood dripping from both arms, as a glare, a glare of a monster filled his face. He picked up his weapons, not bothering with his wounds, as he did not feel them, as he did not care. He snarled, biting as he walked towards the portal, towards his daughter, his future.
“LOK’TAR OGAR! VICTORY OR DEATH! FOR SUMTRA!”
