Post by Bigeshu on May 1, 2009 20:51:17 GMT -5
"...and then I spit in the centaur's eye and took his head!"
The orc slapped her knee and laughed uproariously as the barkeep kept filling her mug. He found Grilna to be obnoxious when she was drunk, but she tipped well and drank often, and even if her clan's home was in Desolace, she always returned to the Crossroads when she wanted to be completely plastered. He only filled the drink half way and paused staring behind her at the doorway. Grilna noticed only the pause and pointed to the mug .
"Hey! This is half-full!"
A voice called her name and snapped her out of the heady foam. She recognized the voice and hopped up to her feet nearly stumbling as she whirled around.
"'Ey Grilna, how joo doin'?"
Grilna blinked twice. That laid back tone, the inflection on her name, it was all his. Her man and lover. Her Rorunoa.
She raced forward yelling his name and wrapped her arms around him, and she recoiled instantly as the deep chill clashed against her rum warm skin.
~ ~ ~
He explained his story. He had left several weeks earlier to investigate a debt The Bloodknuckle's previous owner had. Grilna suspected the debt to be phony, and handsome Roru agreed to check it out.
His investigation took him to a cult that had a cell beneath Orgrimmar, but he got too close and was killed. The cult exchanged his body with the Cult of the Damned for an artifact of some power, and he, in turn was turned into Scourge.
Grilna, Roru, and an elf spent the rest of the day earning permission from the Warchief to destroy the cult and to fully admit the Troll into the Horde, once again. Grilna went back to Desolace and cried herself to sleep while cursing "I should have been there!" over and over.
When a grunt of the Clan entered there tent in Shadowprey, she bit hard on her lip drawing blood to keep from crying further. With a voice of cold steel she told the grunt to sleep. She had to leave the building, she had to get her mind off of this. She had to fight, drink, or get laid, and she refused to let any but Roru, or the Orc who would give her strong children touch her. So she drank twenty jugs of bourbon, and killed one hundred Gelkis Centaur.
The next day, she made a decision. The Bloodknuckle would allow no cult to live in their new home, and thus the siege of the fortress began.
The orc slapped her knee and laughed uproariously as the barkeep kept filling her mug. He found Grilna to be obnoxious when she was drunk, but she tipped well and drank often, and even if her clan's home was in Desolace, she always returned to the Crossroads when she wanted to be completely plastered. He only filled the drink half way and paused staring behind her at the doorway. Grilna noticed only the pause and pointed to the mug .
"Hey! This is half-full!"
A voice called her name and snapped her out of the heady foam. She recognized the voice and hopped up to her feet nearly stumbling as she whirled around.
"'Ey Grilna, how joo doin'?"
Grilna blinked twice. That laid back tone, the inflection on her name, it was all his. Her man and lover. Her Rorunoa.
She raced forward yelling his name and wrapped her arms around him, and she recoiled instantly as the deep chill clashed against her rum warm skin.
~ ~ ~
He explained his story. He had left several weeks earlier to investigate a debt The Bloodknuckle's previous owner had. Grilna suspected the debt to be phony, and handsome Roru agreed to check it out.
His investigation took him to a cult that had a cell beneath Orgrimmar, but he got too close and was killed. The cult exchanged his body with the Cult of the Damned for an artifact of some power, and he, in turn was turned into Scourge.
Grilna, Roru, and an elf spent the rest of the day earning permission from the Warchief to destroy the cult and to fully admit the Troll into the Horde, once again. Grilna went back to Desolace and cried herself to sleep while cursing "I should have been there!" over and over.
When a grunt of the Clan entered there tent in Shadowprey, she bit hard on her lip drawing blood to keep from crying further. With a voice of cold steel she told the grunt to sleep. She had to leave the building, she had to get her mind off of this. She had to fight, drink, or get laid, and she refused to let any but Roru, or the Orc who would give her strong children touch her. So she drank twenty jugs of bourbon, and killed one hundred Gelkis Centaur.
The next day, she made a decision. The Bloodknuckle would allow no cult to live in their new home, and thus the siege of the fortress began.