For the tauren, a whisper rushed under the sound of gentle rainfall. "Where do you go now, Raincaller?"
"Get to the high ground!"
"We must get above it!"
"Run!"
"Cahall help me!"
"The Earthmother will save us."
And the water came.
Steel flashed and slammed into the stone of the alcove Cahall had found himself napping in. His breath came in great gout, in and out in panic as he looked about the quiet street of Orgrimmar. The rain was falling and the people were rejoicing in the gift from above as the desert city had to enjoy the rains when they came. It was only bad memories with the rainfall for him.
The warrior's crude heavy, brand stuck fast in the stone. His one pale blue eye watched the chipped steel catch the falling water with soft splashes and plunks of the heavy droplets. There was a still a nervous quake in his breath as he watched, his hand slowly wrapping around the hilt of the blade and yanking without so much as a grunt.
"Where do I go now?" A husky voice he didn't recognize as his own repeated from the ether, his free hand coming to gently tug at the bronze ring in his nose. The soft familiar flash of pain breaking him of his panic as he began to slow his breathing and heartbeat.
Earthmother will save us. The last words of his mentor before the wave had wiped them all out. He had yet to see the Earthmother give anything to him since. Lost. All of them lost.
"I go to work," Cahall muttered as he used his sword to pull himself up and stalk off into the muddy streets of the capital.