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[Garrosh appeared in the forest. An unfamiliar but lush forest. It's clearly not Ashenvale and it's not any other one he's familiar with, but there's game to be found and it's pleasant. But it is also certainly not Durotar, he's alone, with no gear or weapon and his back is pain. Still, instinct drives him: the first thing an orc needs, be it on Azeroth or in Outland, is some sort of weapon. He scouts around for a sturdy looking branch and a sharp seeming rock to fashion himself, with an hour or so's work, a primitive spear. With this supplementing his eight foot tall, muscular (and tattooed) brown form, he's better off.
...Aside from the weird partial polymorph on his back. He doesn't know magic (at least no well), so while pride dictates he'd prefer not to have these wings, with no immediate implication the black things are a detriment to him and (from when he reached to try to tug on them) the realization that they are sensitive, he's resolved to ignore him until he can force answers out of a mage.
So, the massive but quiet (he is a skilled hunter, after all) man is now skulking in the forest. Both to find something to eat, and to find answers (being as how he ignored the journal at his feet originally, oops). So if you're in the forest, particularly if you're not an orc or troll or goblin or tauren or look like any of those, expect to be hunted. It might be dangerous, but he is looking to question, not kill, at the moment. Probably.
He will, of course, probably make it to town eventually, and when he does you'll also see him going to the Smithy and then promptly back out of town with his gear in hand, following the rivers and going up to survey the mountains/more of the forest over the next few days, camping as he goes. So if you'd like to chime in there, that's possible too.]
[Garrosh appeared in the forest. An unfamiliar but lush forest. It's clearly not Ashenvale and it's not any other one he's familiar with, but there's game to be found and it's pleasant. But it is also certainly not Durotar, he's alone, with no gear or weapon and his back is pain. Still, instinct drives him: the first thing an orc needs, be it on Azeroth or in Outland, is some sort of weapon. He scouts around for a sturdy looking branch and a sharp seeming rock to fashion himself, with an hour or so's work, a primitive spear. With this supplementing his eight foot tall, muscular (and tattooed) brown form, he's better off.
...Aside from the weird partial polymorph on his back. He doesn't know magic (at least no well), so while pride dictates he'd prefer not to have these wings, with no immediate implication the black things are a detriment to him and (from when he reached to try to tug on them) the realization that they are sensitive, he's resolved to ignore him until he can force answers out of a mage.
So, the massive but quiet (he is a skilled hunter, after all) man is now skulking in the forest. Both to find something to eat, and to find answers (being as how he ignored the journal at his feet originally, oops). So if you're in the forest, particularly if you're not an orc or troll or goblin or tauren or look like any of those, expect to be hunted. It might be dangerous, but he is looking to question, not kill, at the moment. Probably.
He will, of course, probably make it to town eventually, and when he does you'll also see him going to the Smithy and then promptly back out of town with his gear in hand, following the rivers and going up to survey the mountains/more of the forest over the next few days, camping as he goes. So if you'd like to chime in there, that's possible too.]
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I have never known drakes of any flight to release their prey upon capture.
[He said, stomping towards the guy, Gorehowl in hand. Did he seriously encounter a cowardly dragon?]
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[While he may not be surprised by Garrosh being out here, the man's appearance itself is startling in its own right. Definitely no human, nor any other species he's yet encountered in Luceti.]
Then you must keep poor company, if they stuff just any old thing down their maw. [Ah, but the axe. That's the worst part. Draco loses no time in getting back to his feet when his eyes light upon Gorehowl, immediately going from resigned to on guard. His eyes narrow, suspicious.] I'd keep your distance with that, were I you.
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Or what? Gorehowl has felled far greater monsters than yourself, drake. [But then he plants his ax on the ground, looking resolute] However, I've no need for that fight right now.
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A weapon is only as great as the one who uses it. Tell me, are you the one who felled those 'great monsters'? [He can't help but be ruffled at being called a monster. A monster!] Of course you don't. There's barely any need to fight in this place at all.
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[The legacy of this weapon speaks for itself.
...Okay so he's only had it a few months, so that strings more than he'd admit, but he'll get some good ones in during the Cataclysm and he's killed a lot of shit in Northrend with different axes]
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[Draco still gives his head a shake, but says no more on the matter. Such importance on a weapon. It brings such trouble! And he should know, having dealt with many a high and mighty swordsman in the past.
At least this one here doesn't seek his life, so he will give him that much.]
And just what would you and your father before you happen to be? I am unfamiliar with your kind.
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The Horde, hmm? You aren't another lot from the stars, are you?
[Warsong in spaaaace. He's met aliens, certainly, so this could very well be another one of those!]
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[Though worlds are nothing like stars. Draco can't imagine anything that might die and spark a whole world into existence.]
But it sounds as though your Horde came from beyond the stars from one world to another, so that is close enough. And now you have done it again, although this world has no name at all.
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The world has no name?
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The villages and cities the Malnosso have made have names, but I have never heard them or any other refer to the world by any particular name at all. If there is one, they must not feel like sharing it.
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Is it now? And what would it be that you would name it if you so pleased, orc of the Horde?
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[ Oho, this'll be fun.
So long as no one gets themselves suddenly stabbed this time.]My name, orc, happens to be [ Something complicated and requiring very dragonish vocal cords to pronounce. Thanks a lot, writers who never actually gave him one. ].
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