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Author's notes: just a little fanfic i wrote, experimenting my 'emotional side' then just another battle fic. Really liked writing this, tell me what you think. Enjoy!


A heavy snowstorm fell down on the wreckage of the large airship, covering the smaller pieces of debris in a fast rate. Bodies lay around it, being clustered mostly around the fires, where they were stood the last few seconds of their lives. In the snowstorm a hulking figure leaned against the what was the canon of the ship, surrounded by bodies of orc and forsaken alike. Tears were falling down his cheeks as he saw his family laying down butchered, mate and children alike. His lungs were burning, the blood that ran from his wounds was frozen solid, his right arm was useless and half his face was horribly scarred. Worse of all, the orc knew his adversary was merely toying with him. The orc fell down, next to the carcass of a great black wolf , his battered helmet, that of a wolf, slid off his head. The wounded beast-master glanced up, a large humanoid figure covered in plate armour walking up to him slowly. In it’s hand it held a long wicked blade, despite the distance the orc could feel the cold coming off it. ‘You thought me a fool didn’t you?’ the icy voice froze the Beast-master’s bones with every word. He glanced to the right, his mate’s axe half covered in snow. With his last ounce of strength he grabbed it and hurled it towards the figure. The figure chuckled as the axe disintegrated, metal pieces flying everywhere. The plate horror grabbed the orc by the throat, raising him. ‘You will never be rid of me, Gorvar of the Bleeding Hollow.’ Gorvar saw the Lich King raise his sword, aimed at the brave orc’s heart. He could not die, not like this! With a heavy warcry Gorvar descended his left fist into the plate helmet, breaking his hand, but knocking the helmet off the Lich King. Blue eyes on a pale human male voice sneered at Gorvar. ‘I will send your soul and that of your family into the abyss!’ he shouted and plunged his sword into Gorvar’s torso. ‘YOUR SOUL IS MINE!’

‘Nooo!’ Gorvar shouted, sitting upright from his pelt. He gasped, cold sweat running across his back and face. He glanced left and right, quickly realising, much to his relief, he wasn’t in Northrend, but in his own hut back in Durotar. The soft snoring next to him made him more at ease, Kloria was safe. He took a moment to calm his racing heart, letting the nightmare fall back to the nether regions of his mind. He put his breeches on and went to the next room, smiling as he saw his two little daughters sleeping in their pelts, their little minds having more cheerfull dreams then his. He glanced to the mantelpiece above the fireplace, his two axes hanging there along with his wolf mask. His armour was stood in the corner, slowly gathering dust. His bow and quiver hung above it, having less dust on them due to Gorvar training his eldest Anniya how to hunt. With a sigh he went outside, sitting on a rock. The bonfires were still burning as Orc grunts patrolled the streets and Darkspear trolls were stalking the rooftops for any foolish Harpy or Alliance member to come near them. A black wolf walked up to Gorvar, laying down next to him. The beast-master chuckled. ‘Cant sleep either can you?’ he scratched Wolfgen’s ears, letting the wolf fall asleep next to him. Gorvar looked around the valley, seeing the lives of some have started this early morning. The stars were fading away as the local baker lit his oven, the hall of honour opened it’s doors as several grunts went outside to relieve the others that were patrolling most of the night. The beast-master realised he and his mate had to open the blacksmith soon aswell, for they had a lot of order to fill in today.


‘Peon, what are you doing up so early?’ He glanced back, seeing his mate waking up to him. She was fierce as she was beautiful, a warrior born. Her long dark hair ran as a ponytail to her neck, her arms made strong from being a blacksmith, her face showed concern. It had not been the first night Gorvar had these nightmares. ‘Bad dreams again?’ Gorvar nodded, looking back at the awakening city. Kloria sat next to him, wearing her worker’s clothing on already. He thanked the ancestors every day for her and the pups. ‘You should go see the shaman Gorvar, you cant keep going on like this.’ ‘I’m fine Klo.’ Gorvar replied. ‘It’ll pass.’ The female snorted, ‘And I am Warchief.... mate, you haven’t slept properly ever since you came back from that blasted continent.’ The beast-master sighed, resting his head in his hands. ‘I know.....’ ‘After you took the girls to school, you will go to your mother and ask for dreamless sleep herbs, I’m not asking.’ He felt a strong hard on his shoulder. ‘I do not want to lose you now after I just have got you back....’ Gorvar smiled, holding her hand. ‘That is the kindest thing I heard you say so far in our mate ship Kloria, daughter of Kor’tal.’ The warsong female grinned, punching him in the shoulder. ‘Don’t get used to it Bleeding Hollow peon.’ He took no offense to her name calling, Warsong always were a bit extreme in their affection to their loved ones, be it from names to mating itself, his scratched back filled with mating marks being the testament of their relationship. ‘Come, get some rest for two hours then wake the girls and make breakfast, I’ll start up the forge.’ She said and got up. Gorvar nodded and followed her. He stopped a moment before he went inside his hut, frowning. ‘You see ghosts now to?’ Kloria sighed. ‘No....’ Gorvar replied. ‘I thought I felt the ground shake....’

The End

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