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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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[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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I'd say Alexstrasza is a fine name. [ Though he doesn't get the reference. ] And as much as I am enjoying this little chat, I do believe I'd better get back to hunting.
[ He shoots a vaguely remorseful look towards the forest where the boar he'd let go had taken off to. ]
Preferably for something that won't chat my ear off...
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[Who he still can't work out what flight this one is, he'll just. Let him go. Until he knows more. After all, while he can fight a dragon solo, he'd prefer not to]