The Skirmish

Author's notes: Gorvar here with another fanfic. To those interested i will post a chapter on 'Thoughts of a Death Knight' soon, but i had this fic in my head quite a few days and i want to let it out. Again this is a experiment and i hope it reads well to you. Enjoy!

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He had not eaten in three days save for some berries, his stomach growled loudly, likely causing no prey to come near. The traveller sniffed around...no sign of anything near for miles. Deep down he started to curse the idea to travel outside his village, he barely survived his initiation to adulthood, how could he survive a long journey? Light was dimming, meant the sun was setting which in turn meant it was going to be cold. With a sigh the orc sat down and prepared to make a small fire. A few moments later he ate the last bit of salted meat he took with him and downed the last sack of water. He would not starve to death tonight, but if he did not find food tomorrow the next night could be his last. He wrapped his thick cloak around him, controlling his shivers.

He checked his equipment one more time before going to bed. His knife, his self made bow, his compass and his large travelling bag that hung on his back, carrying all of the above save the knife that was set on his belt. The orc sighed, taking his helm, oddly in the shape of a wolf’s head, and put it down next to him. ‘Hope you have better luck then I do Wolfgen...’ the orc said and laid down, going to sleep.

Dreams did not visit the young hunter, for he was awakened not long when he closed his eyes. Footsteps.....heavy.....could be human. Impossible, the humans did not patrol this late or this far into the mountains. The young orc praised the ancestors his campfire died out and slowly got up. The footsteps came closer, barely 20...maybe 18 footsteps away, blast they already saw him! The orc grabbed his helmet and put it on. ‘Rule number one in warfare and in the hunt’ his father said, ‘Look as menacing and dangerous as possible when you are facing off against a foe.’ The footsteps ran now, his unknown guest would be here shortly. He grabbed his bow and nocked a arrow, aiming it at the direction where the sound came from. A flash from the moonlight greeted the orc as a blade touched his neck, nearly drawing blood. But the Orc had his arrow aimed at the unwelcome visitor’s head, which was shrouded in darkness.

‘Who are you and what are you doing in Warsong lands?!’ a deep voice asked him. The hunter recognised a female flair to it, but the name ‘Warsong’ stood out more.; ‘Warsong?’ the orc asked. He felt the blade pushing against the neck. ‘Answer.’ The voice demanded. The orc growled slightly.’ I am more likely to answer if your blade did not threaten to sever my head.’ ‘And I am more likely to answer if your crudely made arrow was not aimed at my head.’ The hunter paused. ‘We both put away our weapons on the count of three.’ ‘Why should I trust you, how do I know you will not attack me when my blade is cast aside?’ ‘Because it would be dishonourable if I attacked you when you were unarmed.’ The voice pondered the proposal, then gave a affirmative grunt. ‘On three.’ Both counted from one until three, where they both laid their arms aside. ‘Now....your name.’ the voice asked. ‘My name is Gorvar, son of Gorvare of the Bleeding Hollow clan.’ The hunter answered. He heard a angry growl. ‘I asked your name, not lies!’ the voice shouted, the feminine side creaking through. ‘That clan died when they were rounded up after the battle for Ironforge and it’s remnants fled towards Dreanor when Ner’zhul betrayed our people.’ This time Gorvar growled. ‘You speak me of lies female, the warsong were all killed after the Dark Portal exploded.’ ‘No.’ the female replied. ‘Grom led us away from the human lands to here, where we are rebuilding our clan and wait for the right time to strike.’ ‘Then we are more alike then you think.’ Gorvar said. He pulled his cloak around and showed it to the stranger, the moonlight illuminating the cloak. The cloak was brown, but the symbol in the middle was vaguely green, it’s symbol being a bleeding eye. The female gasped slightly. ‘That was the cloak Kilrogg Deadeye and his sons wore during the war!’ ‘And my father gave it to me.’ The female snorted. ‘Your father is Gorvare Deadeye?’ ‘He is, how else could I obtain this cloak, which he gave me when I decided to travel?’ The female pondered. ‘You could have stolen it from the battlefield or someone else whom you stole it from in turn.’ ‘I was not there when the Bleeding Hollow was defeated at Ironforge, but enough about my lineage, who are you and why is this Warsong land?’

The female stepped into the moonlight, almost making Grovar gasp. She was a warrior born, Her long dark hair ran as a ponytail to her neck, her arms looked strong, her eyes amber and her small tusks sharp. Ancestors she was beautiful. ‘I am Kloria, daughter of Kortal of the Warsong clan.’ She proudly stated. ‘I was born and raised a Warsong, we settled here when the humans came to close to our last home.’ Gorvar nodded, his small clan of the remaining Bleeding Hollow were forced to relocate several times to avoid capture. ‘What brings you here Bleeding Hollow?’ ‘I’m a traveller.’ Gorvar said. ‘I wanted to see the world.’ Kloria grinned. ‘It seems the rumours about Bleeding Hollow being dreamers is true.’ The hunter glared. ‘ Although I really wish to continue this banter about insulting each other’s clans, I think we better do that where it’s warm and safe.’ The female paused. ‘You can come with me son of Deadeye, but do not speak until spoken to or else I’ll tell my kin that you are one of those Blackrock raiders that tried to dishonour me before I told him about a warlock scroll he could use.’ ‘.......very well.’ Gorvar grabbed his belongings. ‘Show me the way Warsong.’

A few hours later the two arrived at the tunnels of a system of caves where her people lived. The deeper they went, how warmer it was. The Bleeding Hollow glanced around, seeing the Warsong members stare at him. They had blacksmiths, running water, torches that give light and heat, individual holes divided by tent flaps carved out from the stone.....this was a clan who had been here for a long time. ‘Stay here.’ Kloria said and went inside one of the holes in question. Gorvar waited, the murmurs of the passers by made him feel like a outcast. Despite being the same race and sharing the same common tongue, the warsong clan, like his own, had a dialect that only warsong and their closest allies could understand and speak. A large armoured male walked towards him, he wielded a large two handed ax, had several human ears that hung around his neck as trophies and had a scar from his cheek elaborated on the warrior’s prowess.

‘You carry the cloak of a Bleeding Hollow....’ the warrior said. ‘Does that mean you are one?’ ‘Zug zug.’ Gorvar nodded. The warrior laughed. ‘I thought so...only a Bleeding Hollow could look so feeble and pale.’ Gorvar glared. ‘I thought the Warsong were known to be honourable to their fellow warriors.’ ‘We are....but you, Peon, are no warrior, as all of your clan are, hence they were defeated so easily by small humans with beards.’ He could hear several Warsong males laugh, adding more insult to Gorvar’s clan. Slowly Gorvar chuckled, making the big brute stop laughing. ‘Why are you laughing?’ ‘Oh nothing....’ Gorvar grinned. ‘I never knew Ogres had green skins to.’ The big warrior growled, being called a Ogre was a worse insult then being called a peon. The brute growled loudly, raising his arm to pinch Gorvar, but the hunter already made his move. He first slapped the warsong’s head on both sides right on the ears, making him lose his balance. Next Gorvar hit him in the chest, making him move his forward until finally Gorvar head butted the warrior in the face, making him crash to the ground.

Some Warsong members cheered at the sight while several of his friends ran over to the fallen warrior, helping him up. ‘You all right Tor’khan?’ one of them asked. Tor’khan growled, grabbing a ax from the ground charging towards the Bleeding Hollow. ‘STOP!’ a strong harsh voice rang through the cave, stopping Tor’khan in place. Gorvar turned, gasping at the sight. In front of him stood Grom Hellscream, the chieftain of the Warsong clan. His lower jaw was completely black, his muscles thick and broad, his leather armour barely able to cover his green skin, his black hair gulfing behind him and he had a large ax hanging on his back, from just a glance the hunter knew it saw much use. Kloria stood next to Grom, looking ashamed at Tor’khan.

‘He insulted the clan!’ Tor’khan shouted.’ Honour demands vengeance!’ ‘He did not insult the clan, he insulted you AFTER you insulted his clan.’ Grom glared. ‘You are a good warrior Tor’khan, but right now you dishonoured yourself and the clan...go to your cave.’ Tor’khan growled, glaring at Gorvar and left. ‘I saw you take him out....’ Grom grinned. ‘Your father taught you that move didn’t he?’ Gorvar nodded. ‘and he learned it from his father.’ Grom chuckled, although the chuckle was more of a deep laugh. ‘ Come in and tell me how your father and clan are doing.’ Grom turned and went inside. Klori grabbed Gorvar by the arm, glaring. ‘That was my betrothed you humiliated there Bleeding Hollow.’ Gorvar’s heart sank a little, but did not show it. ‘Your soon to be mate attacked me first and underestimated me, I hope if you should give him offspring that they inherit your brain, for he has none.’ Gorvar followed Grom who was in turn followed by Kloria, who could not help with smile a little.

Gorvar, Grom and Kloria talked for a long time, answering and asking each other’s questions. Grom asked Kloria on how she found the hunter and asked Gorvar on his clan’s current predicament. Gorvar in turn asked about the Warsong’s strength and valor and how they evaded the human patrols. ‘We survived by raiding caravans and moving around most of the time.’ Kloria answered. ‘We were lucky to find these caves, for they have precious ores we can use to make our own weapons and armour.’ ‘Kloria is a blacksmith and a weapon crafter, one of the finest actually.’ Grom grinned. ‘Repaired my ax when it flew off it’s handle during a fight, been grateful ever since.’ Gorvar glanced at the ax, Gorehowl the warsong chieftain called it, and nodded. ‘It is very well done....’ Gorvar admitted. ’Fit to be wielded by a Chieftain, perhaps a Warchief himself.’ For a moment he could swear he saw Kloria blush. ‘What brings you here?’ Grom asked. ‘I’m a traveller.’ Gorvar said. ‘I travel to see the world.’ Grom blinked. ‘Isn’t that unwise with the human patrols out, they still search for any free orc to capture or kill.’ Gorvar nodded. ‘It is, but my heart told me it was the right thing to do, it told me ever since I killed the wolf whom I have this helmet from on my trial to adulthood.’ Grom picked up the wolf’s head that sat next to Gorvar, whom took it off when he sat down with Grom as a sign of respect, and inspected it. ‘A wolf for your first solo kill....’ Grom mused. ‘impressive....’ ‘In my clan we track and kill the creature we see in our dreams the night before we set out...in my case it was a wolf.’ ‘Hm, lucky I was not born a Bleeding Hollow, I would’ve likely dreamed of a Gronn!’ he laughed loudly, though the laughter faded when he saw Gorvar and Kloria look confused. ‘You do not know what a Gronn is?’ Both shook their head. ‘Bah, your parents should’ve told you, pups these days...’ Grom grumbled under his breath. ‘So....’ Kloria asked. ‘How long do you plan to stay?’ Gorvar thought. ‘I think I can stay here a little while, I can help with the hunt and aid the clan wherever I can, that is....if you allow me to Chieftain?’ Grom rubbed his chin. ‘Thought you wanted to see the world?’ ‘What is the use of seeing the world if I do not experience it in all aspects?’ Grom laughed loudly again, slapping Gorvar on the back hard, almost making the young Bleeding Hollow tumble. ‘You are just like Gorvare, little hunter. ’Grom wiped away a tear. ‘Very well, you can stay, but it would be unwise to let you walk around alone, Kloria, you will be his guardian.’ ‘WHAT?!’ both exploded. ‘Chieftain, no disrespect, but you cannot ask me this, I have to run my forge!’ ‘Then he will help you with the forge.’ The elder orc replied. ‘He’ll burn it down!’ ‘Maybe, but that is a risk I’m willing to take.’ Kloria cursed in her own tongue, folding her arms. ‘I take that as a yes.’ Grommash grinned. ‘You two go off now then, take him to the vacant hole, he’ll fit in just right.’ All three got up. ‘We do not have much food because of the encroaching winter and the alert deer, but for a grandpup of Kilrogg I’m willing to give up my ration.’ Gorvar bowed his head. ‘I am honoured.’ ‘You better be, it’s fine venison.’ The elder warrior laughed loudly and showed them both out. ‘Seems were stuck together then.’ Gorvar said while walking to his cave. ‘Stuck indeed.’ Kloria glared. ‘Do not jest around me and do as your told, and we might make this through.’ She showed him to his room. ‘Goodnight.’ She growled and walked off. Gorvar went inside, glancing outside one more time to see tor’fang hold Kloria around her waist, walking off. With a sigh he closed his tent flap and ate his meat.

In the following weeks Gorvar stayed with the Warsong, always helping Kloria and the clan with her tasks. Kortal’s daughter’s prophecy almost came through early on, but a time progressed he became a valuable help in the forge. However in the outside world he shined. He was always the first to find new ores and when they went hunting always came back with prey, be it deer or boar. It was around this time a large black wolf seemed to skulk around the cave, helping orc hunting parties with taking down larger prey. The hunting party that included Gorvar and the black wolf, which the young hunter dubbed ‘Wolfgen’, was known for it’s efficiency in tracking and killing the most elusive deer. However Gorvar was a not the same friendly male when he hunted, he was cold, focused on the hunt, nothing more. Some compared it to a warrior the eve before battle, though a warrior could inspire others to great feats while Gorvar rather worked, and was best at, working alone. It was in this time Kloria and Gorvar grew closer to each other, much to Tor’khan’s frustration.

Gorvar was skinning the latest deer, it’s hide needed to keep the clan warm for the winter. His mind seemed to drift off to Kloria a lot when she was not around. It was because of this reason he did not hear Tor’khan coming. The brute orc grabbed Gorvar b his leather jacket and threw him across the room. ‘You try to steal my female!’ Gorvar slammed against the wall, slowly getting up. ‘You miserable Bleeding Hollow Peon!’ Tor’khan kicked Gorvar in the stomach. ‘It’s because of you she hates me!’ Gorvar spat out blood. ‘I think....you done that....yourself...’ Tor’fang cried out, wailing down on the hunter. Already Gorvar’s vision started to blur as did Tor’khan’s voice, hearing something crack, the pounding and shouting continued until all went black....

‘Tor’khan!’ Gorvar’s eyes went wide open when he heard her voice, it was her, Kloria! The Bleeding Hollow member dragged himself to sir upright, having trouble to keep one eye open. He saw Kloria shouting and proper beating the tall warrior off, turning to see him. ‘Gorvar, are you allright?’ Her face was one of concern, she rested her hand on his shoulders. ‘Gorvar?’ ‘......aw.’ Gorvar uttered. ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry.’ She panicked. ‘Stay here, I’ll get he-‘ Gorvar raised his batterd left arm, holding her hand, shaking his head. ‘Stay....please.’ Kloria nodded and sat with him.

‘Bleh!’ Gorvar expressed, almost gagging. ‘That stuff is vile!’ ‘It will help you heal you big pup.’ The elder crone said. ‘Back in my day we had worse potions to swallow when we got hurt.’ ‘This tastes like frog with moss and herbs...’ Gorvar commented. ‘Because it was.’ She rolled her eyes, getting up. The wounded orc blinked. ‘You must be jesting elder.’ ‘No.’ she chuckled. ‘Wait until you heard the secret ingredient.’ ‘What secret ingredient?’ The elder opend her mouth, smiled as she saw Kloria come in. ‘My favourite granddaughter!’ she hugged Kloria. ‘Have you come to see your old grandmother dear?’ ‘Actually....that was not the reason why I came grandmother....’ ‘Oooooh....the Bleeding Hollow, I understand.’ She winked. Kloria rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not like that grandmother.’ ‘Of course dear, that’s exactly the same thing I said to my mother when your grandfather had a fight, oh ancestors how long has it been...?’ ‘Grandmother....’ she growled. ‘Yes yes I’ll let you two be, youth these days...’ the elder female shook her head and slowly walked out of the room.

‘Grandmother Traleyah.’ Kloria sighed, sitting next to Gorvar. ‘A pain in the rear, but the best healer we have.....the only healer we have...’ Gorvar nodded. ‘She gave me Frog with moss and herbs.’ ‘Could be worse, you could’ve drunk Wolf femur with owl eyeballs.’ Gorvar blinked. ‘Suddenly I do not wish to know this secret ingredient anymore...’ Kloria smiled, resting her hand on his. ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘Better thank you.’ Gorvar smiled back. ‘I’m grateful nothing is broken, save my pride.’ ‘It was a dishonourable attack by a dishonourable male.’ Kloria glared. ‘I’m glad he showed his true colours before we even mated.’ ‘Your welcome.’ Gorvar said.’ Antagonising bigger, stronger males that beat me into a pulp is my profession.’ ‘I’m serious Gorvar.’ She said. ‘You shouldn’t even be joking, you got hurt really bad.’ ‘Bah....’ Gorvar shrugged, wincing. ‘Shouldn’t have done that....’ ‘He will get punished for this, I promise you.’ ‘He should be fighting you as punishment...’ Gorvar made himself a bit more comfortable/. ‘You were brutal there....for a split second I thought you cared about me.’ ‘Of course I do...where else can I find a assistant that knows how to cool down metal and find iron ore’s as fast as you can’ she grinned. ‘Ah, so it was the forge you were worried about?’ ‘Zug zug.’ She nodded cheekily. ‘And the clan, we never had this much food before until you came, it’s like you know where those animals are.....’ ‘Just doing my part.’ ‘Your being to modest.....I heard they plan to make you a honorary Warsong.’ Gorvar blinked. ‘Really?’ Kloria nodded.

Gorvar remembered the ogre Gork back home, how he was made a honorary member of the Bleeding Hollow and how easily accepted he was thanks to his father’s co-ercion. ‘Which means you can ask me to make you a weapon....’ sadly she got up. ‘And choose a mate.’ Gorvar looked up, Kloria turning her back on him. ‘I heard the other females talk about you, how much they want you.’ ‘It’s not about what they want....it’s what I want.’ Kloria nodded. ‘I suggest Zeerla, she’s a fine tracker and hunter.’ ‘She is, but she’s not who I want.’ Gorvar said as he slowly got up. ‘Deeka is a good warrior, you two can produce strong offspring if you should choose her.’ ‘We might....but I don’t want her either.’ Gorvar said and turned Kloria around, holding her hands. ‘I want you Kloria, daughter of Kortal....if you let me.’ Kloria paused, her amber eyes looking at him. Before Gorvar could speak she kissed him passionately. The orc held her in his arms, returning the kiss.

By the next full moon Gorvar and Kloria before Traleyah, holding each other’s hands as the wise crone enchanted powerfull words from old orcish. In the crowd both Kortal and his mate, and Grom smiled proudly. It was a small gathering, but it was a warm one.

After the ceremony the newly mated couple entered their new room. Gorvar glanced around, seeing many rugs and pelts of his kills were placed here and Kloria’s blacksmithing gear aswell. ‘This is very well decorated, don’t think so Klo.....Kloria?’ he turned around, seeing his mate having taken off her ceremonial robe, grinning wickedly. ‘Come here you peon.’ She said and jumped on him, kissing him deeply and letting him fall on the pelt. That night for the first time, they’re minds and bodies became one, forging a bound stronger then any metal on Azeroth, a bound that never could be broken, even by death. The next morning Kloria awoke first, her mate’s arm wrapped around her waist, snoring gently. With a smile she snuggled closer to him, letting her eyelids drop again.

The end.