The Orgrimmar Thief - Part 2

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.  It is based upon characters within Blizzard's World of Warcraft, however, their imagined lives are products of my imagination and not wholly based upon lore written by Blizzard.

The kodo caravan took us back through the Crossroads, and little had changed in the months we had gone.  The sundering of the Barrens had little effect on the daily activities of the town, but everyone was talking about the attack on Camp Taurajo.

It was only a brief stopover, to pick up more passengers, but a few people recognised us and asked about our  mother.  Hula'mahi patted us with a sad look on his face when we told him the news, and Apothecary Helbrim said cryptically that death is only the beginning.  I didn't fancy the thought of my mother being raised as a Forsaken - which is probably why there aren't many orc or tauren Forsaken because both races usually burn their dead.

As the caravan approached the Southfury river, we could see the great spires of Orgrimmar ahead of us.

"Across that river is Durotar!" said Orna excitedly.  "It will be the first time we've ever left the Barrens!"
To our young eyes the big city was all about new sights and sounds, fascinating stories, a chance to make it big - Orna had her heart set on being a windrider and I... well, I didn't know what I wanted to do yet.  I was still floating somewhere in the confusion of a being an orphan, losing our home and heading to place where we knew nobody, had nowhere to stay.  I felt like I was dragging down all Orna's hopes and dreams with my anxiety and reticence, but I did try to be positive and encouraging as much as I could.

We crossed the Southfury river, with the massive gates of Orgrimmar looming above us.  Orna pointed and squealed, "Regnar!  Wind riders!"

I looked up and saw a formation of wind riders, circling the city.  Orna's enthusiasm was contagious, and I couldn't help but smile in awe.  The tawny wyvern were magnificient, their wings outstretched, with their armoured riders solemnly holding their polearms at the ready.  Orna stood up in the cart, her arms oustretched, her face upturned as she pretended she was soaring in the sky, smiling as if the woes of the last week were behind her.

The caravan made its way to the Valley of Strength.  I hopped off the cart, my mouth agape as I saw the hustle and bustle of the city.  There were people EVERYWHERE.  All races of the horde could be found here.  At the auction house people were crowding the auctioneers, bidding and selling madly, the din was incredible!  Grommash Hold dominated the area, and Orna tugged my hand, pulling me towards it.

"Brother, the Warchief himself is here!  We can look upon our mighty leader and pay our respects!"
"Wait," I said, stopping in my tracks.  "You can't just walk in there..."
"Oh, don't be a spoilsport!  We have to go see him, he's the greatest warrior alive today!"  And she ran right up to the entrance.

"Halt!' said a Kor'kron guard, startling Orna as she skidded to a halt.  "Who goes there and what is your business with the Warchief?"

I rushed over.  "I'm sorry sir, we were just..."
Orna interrupted me.  "My name is Orna, and we are survivors from Camp Taurajo.  We have travelled a long way and we merely wish to pay our respects to the Warchief."  She bowed awkwardly, and I followed her suit, amazed at her audacity.

The guard lowered his spear.  "Camp Taurajo? You two young ones survived that massacre?"

Orna nodded, her chest swelling with pride.  "And we killed ONE alliance soldier with our daggers!"

The soldier laughed.  "Only one?  I would expect at least three would fall to your mighty blows and bravery!  Come young warriors, I will present you to the Warchief myself."

Orna turned to me, her hands clasped excitedly to her chest, with an ear to ear grin on her face.  Her expression was one of sheer exultation, and she took a deep breath and followed the soldier, and I followed behind her, awed that I was about to be in the presence of the mighty leader of the Horde.

Warchief Garrosh stood by his throne, as he talked heatedly to a Blood Elf ambassador, resplendent in his crimson robes, whom, from what we could overhear, was something to do with access to some power crystals.

"Enough! I am done with it.  Do as you will."  said Garrosh, and dismissed the Blood Elf, who walked past Orna and I, a look of disdain on his face at our dusty clothes and travel-worn appearance.  I brushed my clothes self consciously and tried to straighten Orna's tunic, and she ran a hand through her windblown black hair in preparation for presentation to our leader.  We could hardly be seen behind the soldier's broad plate mail as we approached the dias.

"Hail, Warchief!" the soldier saluted the Warchief with a fist to his chest.  Garrosh looked towards him, his eyes tired, but his face determined.  "Speak, Throg."

"Two orc survivors from Camp Taurajo wish to present themselves to you.  They fought bravely in the battle, and have honoured themselves with an enemy kill."  The Kor'kron soldier stepped aside, revealing us to Garrosh.  His eyes widened momentarily in surprise, and then softened.  My mouth was slackjawed in awe at the presence he exerted, and my sister too was stunned momentarily before she remembered her manners, and elbowed me to do the same.

"Hail, Mighty Warchief Garrosh," we said in unison, our fists over our chests as we knelt before Garrosh.

"Hail, younglings, rise," said Garrosh, gesturing us to rise.  "Throg says you have travelled from Camp Taurajo.  What news do you have to report to the Horde?"

"Warchief," I stammered out.  "Many were slaughtered by the Alliance scum.  Tauren and orc fell together like brothers.  My sister and I were told to escape with the other children..."

"And we KILLED one Alliance scum with our daggers!" interrupted Orna, her eyes bright with excitement as she emphasised her statement with sweeping gestures.  "My brother and I threw our daggers at him and then we ran to the trees."

The Warchief smiled at us, an unfamiliar but warming gesture.  "And your parents?"

"Our father fell with honour at Wrathgate, my Warchief," I said.  "And our mother was slain in the attack."

Garrosh nodded solemnly.  "How did you manage to escape?"

"We have some stealthing skills," I admitted, my eyes to the ground.  "We have been practicing our skills, and wish to learn more."  I had no idea where these thoughts were coming from.  Did I really wish to learn more?  Too late, I had already spoken the words.

"And now?  You have come to live with your relatives in Orgrimmar?"

I hesitated.  Orna took the opportunity to speak.  "Warchief, we came to Orgrimmar to join our brethren in the fight against the Alliance!  I wish to become a Wind rider!"

One of the other Kor'kron soldiers in the room laughed.   Garrosh smiled. "Is that so? A wind rider's calling is not an easy one.  Do you think you have what it takes to train and fight with your brothers and sister?"

Orna stood to her full height, her chin lifted high.  "Yes, my Warchief.  I KNOW I can!"

"Then make me proud, orcling.  What is your name?"

"Orna, Warchief.  My brother's name is Regnar.  Our father's name was Durgom." How did she keep her voice so steady?  My heart was thundering beneath my fist.

"Orna, daughter of Durgom, you have been chosen to be an Apprentice Wind Rider Trainer.  Report to Drakma, the Wind Rider Keeper and he will teach you.  If you show the skills to be a Wind Rider, then he will send you to one who will further your teaching."

Tears came to Orna's eyes, but she bit her lip, holding them back, not wanting to seem childish in front of the Warchief.  She knelt again and bowed her head, hiding her face.  "Thank you, OH THANK YOU, Warchief!  I will not disappoint you!"  I was excited yet frightened as to what my future would be.  The Warchief turned his gaze to me and I felt my stomach fall into a chasm, for my future was being weighed in his calloused, heavy hands.

"Regnar, son of Durgom, approach."  I took a shaky breath, and walked towards the Warchief, keeping my head respectfully bowed, my eyes downcast to the ground.  My fist was still clenched to my breast.  "Yes, my Warchief," I said, weakly.  I cleared my throat, self consciously.

He clapped a iron clad hand to my shoulder, the weight nearly bringing me to my knees.  "Boy, I can see from your step that you have the gift of stealth.  I need more like you, to help gather information for me.  Go now, to Ormok, and he will train you to be a shadow, a whisper.  Throg," Garrosh jerked hsi chin towards the soldier who brought us into the room.  "When you are relieved, take these two to their new masters, and inform them of my decisions."

Throg saluted.  "Your command, Warchief."

Garrosh dismissed us with a wave of his hand and the parting comment.  "Children like you are an inspiration to the others.  Go, and know your Warchief takes pride in your honour."

The words washed over us like a flood of warm water, soothing, caring... and I realised at that moment how much I had missed having a father figure in my life.


  1. Wow...


    I almost cried..well i did tear up a little..

    I liked it a lot! /thumbsup

    1. Slice! OMG! Thank you for visiting! All you SR people rock! :D

  2. Hmm, it seems a bit of grit from a nearby malfunctioning experiment has caused my gnomish eyes to water..

    Awesome story and I can't wait to see what happens to them.

  3. Such a great story and it made me like Garrosh just a bit more as he was so nice to them. Orna reminds me of a Tauren healer I know, they must be related! I hope we get to follow them and see if they attain their dreams of windriders and shadows!

  4. Garrosh does have his moments! I'm so glad that Orna's getting to live her dream :D

    1. He certainly does :) I hope I didn't write him TOO out of character... though after I did the Stonetalon quest line I saw a different side of Garrosh.

    2. Wait, hold on, how is it out of character to show me being nice? I'M ALWAYS FUCKING NICE DAMMIT.

      Garrosh Hellscream

    3. Warchief, I am glad you showed some restraint with your potty m outh in my tale around the children.

    4. Orna: What's "fucking nice"?

      In other news OMG OMG OMG I love this story more and more. At first I thought Orna wanted to be a wyvern, not the person who rides them and I was like WHAT THIS IS A GREAT DREAM. I mean being a wind rider is a great dream too but.

    5. Thank you Aka! OMG that is great praise from the 2nd PRIZE WINNER OF THE MOVELLAS WOW SHORT STORY COMP!!!!!

  5. So Regnar & Orna get to follow their dreams and it's by order of the warchief no less. They needed something nice in their life to happen. I'm now curious on how your story is going to unfold Navi?? Are the kids going to have some Potteresque like adventures as children or are we skipping forward some years to where they've completed their training??
    A great part 2 and of course I can't wait for the next installment. Keep up the great work Navi.


    1. Ty Ayelena! You'll have to wait and see... :)


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