Kalias
05-04-2004, 03:15 PM
Well seems that my other tale (Brother in Arms) isn't very popular in whichever site I post it, so I thougth I should move on to something new. Oh and please guys, tell me when I do grammatical mistakes, english is my third language and there's no way I can improve myself if I don't know what is wrong.
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Many would have said that Rogar was one of the luckiest Orcs in the Horde. He was only twelve and he had been called for the Blackrock Honor Guard initiation. Joining the Honor Guard was the dream off all young Orcs. The Honor Guard was well known for its might, savagery and power. All those in the Blackrock Honor Guard were considered heroes among the Orcs.
He was very proud and eager to do the tests. He was confident that he would pass. He was the best fighter of his village; there was no reason that he wouldn’t pass this test. Joining the Honor Guard had been his dream all along.
All the young initiates were waiting in a dark and foggy room. They all seemed as young as Rogar was. Rogar studied every single Orc in the room. He wanted to make sure he was strongest here. He wanted to make sure that it would be him that will be chosen.
Then he saw an old Orc entering the room. He was the oldest Orc Rogar had ever seen. He was dressed all in red and was holding a tall staff with a skull on top. In his other hand he held a clay bottle. Rogar did not care about the bottle or the old Orc. He wanted to go and pass he initiation, that was all he wanted to do.
Then the old Orc spoke. “Welcome young ones” he said in an old and tired voice. “I am Gul’Dan” he smiled.
***
“AHHHH!!!” Rogar leapt out of bed. Where was his axe? He had to kill Gul’Dan! He had to kill the bastard! He betrayed them all. He ruined Rogar’s life. He took his soul from him.
Rogar violently kicked a table in front of him. The table flew and crashed in the wall. Oh, heavens… what the hell was he doing?
Rogar sat on his bed and buried his face in his hands. If only he could kill that bastard. He had betrayed them all. He had cursed Rogar with that Demon blood. He would give anything to have revenge. Bah! No use now. He’s already dead. Killed by the Demon Sargeras or whatever he’s called. The fool thought he was smarter than everyone else, and that he could harness the power of the Demon King. Apparently, he had lost his head… it flew out of the Tomb a few moments after the fool entered it.
“Warrior!” A voice called out. Rogar leapt to his feet for the second time and reached for his knife. “You won’t need that!” The voice spoke, “The Warchief wants to see you. Now!”
“The Warchief wants to see me? Why?” Rogar replied.
“How do you expect me to know? I’m just a messenger. Now hurry up, he said it’s urgent.” And the messenger left without adding another word.
The Warchief wanted to see him? What could he have possibly done this time? Last time the Warchief had wanted to see him it was because he had nearly killed two grunts who had pissed him off. Rogar however failed to see what the problem was since the two idiots were still alive. Maybe it was because they still were in the healer’s tent after two weeks that the Warchief was angry. Oh well, who knows?
Rogar reached for his bearskin cloak and weapons. He put them on and opened his hut’s door. He walked slowly towards the Warchief’s hut, still wondering what on earth he could have done wrong. He had not beaten up anyone this time. He had not disobeyed orders… for once. What could he have done this time?
He paused in front of the Warchief’s hut and stared at the emblem of the Frostwolves; the head of a great white wolf. He pushed the door open and entered the hut ready to receive his punishment. What could he possibly have done now?
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I know its rather short for now but people told me that they prefered when it was short.
Feedback please...
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Many would have said that Rogar was one of the luckiest Orcs in the Horde. He was only twelve and he had been called for the Blackrock Honor Guard initiation. Joining the Honor Guard was the dream off all young Orcs. The Honor Guard was well known for its might, savagery and power. All those in the Blackrock Honor Guard were considered heroes among the Orcs.
He was very proud and eager to do the tests. He was confident that he would pass. He was the best fighter of his village; there was no reason that he wouldn’t pass this test. Joining the Honor Guard had been his dream all along.
All the young initiates were waiting in a dark and foggy room. They all seemed as young as Rogar was. Rogar studied every single Orc in the room. He wanted to make sure he was strongest here. He wanted to make sure that it would be him that will be chosen.
Then he saw an old Orc entering the room. He was the oldest Orc Rogar had ever seen. He was dressed all in red and was holding a tall staff with a skull on top. In his other hand he held a clay bottle. Rogar did not care about the bottle or the old Orc. He wanted to go and pass he initiation, that was all he wanted to do.
Then the old Orc spoke. “Welcome young ones” he said in an old and tired voice. “I am Gul’Dan” he smiled.
***
“AHHHH!!!” Rogar leapt out of bed. Where was his axe? He had to kill Gul’Dan! He had to kill the bastard! He betrayed them all. He ruined Rogar’s life. He took his soul from him.
Rogar violently kicked a table in front of him. The table flew and crashed in the wall. Oh, heavens… what the hell was he doing?
Rogar sat on his bed and buried his face in his hands. If only he could kill that bastard. He had betrayed them all. He had cursed Rogar with that Demon blood. He would give anything to have revenge. Bah! No use now. He’s already dead. Killed by the Demon Sargeras or whatever he’s called. The fool thought he was smarter than everyone else, and that he could harness the power of the Demon King. Apparently, he had lost his head… it flew out of the Tomb a few moments after the fool entered it.
“Warrior!” A voice called out. Rogar leapt to his feet for the second time and reached for his knife. “You won’t need that!” The voice spoke, “The Warchief wants to see you. Now!”
“The Warchief wants to see me? Why?” Rogar replied.
“How do you expect me to know? I’m just a messenger. Now hurry up, he said it’s urgent.” And the messenger left without adding another word.
The Warchief wanted to see him? What could he have possibly done this time? Last time the Warchief had wanted to see him it was because he had nearly killed two grunts who had pissed him off. Rogar however failed to see what the problem was since the two idiots were still alive. Maybe it was because they still were in the healer’s tent after two weeks that the Warchief was angry. Oh well, who knows?
Rogar reached for his bearskin cloak and weapons. He put them on and opened his hut’s door. He walked slowly towards the Warchief’s hut, still wondering what on earth he could have done wrong. He had not beaten up anyone this time. He had not disobeyed orders… for once. What could he have done this time?
He paused in front of the Warchief’s hut and stared at the emblem of the Frostwolves; the head of a great white wolf. He pushed the door open and entered the hut ready to receive his punishment. What could he possibly have done now?
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
I know its rather short for now but people told me that they prefered when it was short.
Feedback please...