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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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...Just don't assume we're the same humans from your world and need to be killed. No one here is at war with you, likely no one will be if you don't go after them first. We're all just trying to survive what gets thrown at us and figure out how to get back to our homes. There's no point in fighting with our fellow prisoners when there's bigger problems to work out.
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[And his hand puts more pressure on the shoulder. At this point, he's going to leave a bruise. Plus the shouting]
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Don't treat the villagers the way you're treating me now. Don't treat them like the enemy, and they won't treat you like the enemy. Use your tactical mind instead of your warrior mind, because even though fighting might seem like a good idea, trying to get them to obey you like you were their war leader is only going to end in a lot of bloodshed no one needs.
...and if that's too much to ask, then I'm pretty much out of things I can say to you. [He pulls out his own journal, turning it to the Guide and holding it up to eye level for Garrosh.] Read the journal if what I'm saying isn't acceptable. Maybe that will make more sense to you as to why I'm saying it.
[And he waits. He's either completely blown it, in which case he's fucked, or there's that one in a million chance the orc will listen.
Derek is betting on fucked, though.]
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I have no reason to trust they are not my enemies. I, after all, have a great many. And make no mistake, at this moment, you are my prisoner.
[But he will glance at this guide. It's long. It's not that he can't and doesn't read, it's that he doesn't want to in front of a prisoner]
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Yeah, no. I'm not. Want to kill me, fine. But we're not doing that prisoner bullshit. Just leave the book wherever you want once you're done with it. It'll show up where it's supposed to later.
[And with that, Derek starts off towards the village, with or without Garrosh. Most likely with a spear to the back...or possibly knocked out.
Yeah, this nice, relaxing trip into the woods is turning out just fucking great.]
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Not that he fought them much, but he'd seen them fight.
So when that doesn't connect, he roars and this time thrusts the point of his spear. You want to make this a fight, he'll make it a fight]
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He has no intention of actually trying to hit back; just avoid and disarm if he can, using the orc's own movement against him if possible.]
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So instead, he lets go and makes to tackle the other man bodily]
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Problem being that, well, Garrosh is a lot bigger than any vampire Derek has had to deal with, and there's far more body mass to avoid. Which means if the orc doesn't land on him, he probably has a good chance at grabbing a leg.
Life just sucks like that sometimes.]
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It's a desperate, instinctive act, but the hunter twists around, clawing his hands, the fingers stiff and curled, and drives them into the nearest, softest part of flesh he can find and digs and twists. They aren't stakes, but he puts the same amount of force--force that's enough to push through a vampire's breastbone--into the blow. The snap of his own bone only helps to drive the blow harder, Derek hissing with pain.]
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Not that he gets very far himself. His own vision is blurry, tinged with red and white flashes, and every movement sends fire up that mangled leg. Still, he'll stubbornly pull himself out from Garrosh and as far away as he can. Which is maybe, if he's lucky, a couple of feet. He watches the orc warily from his new vantage point, panting, but still very, very alert.]
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It was a moment's winding, nothing more, and he gets to his feet at about the same time as Derek, and roaring-- he's planning to wrap his fists together and hit the guy over the head or back or something. Knock him out. This guy is not an enemy and is unarmed. And he's a worthy warrior.]
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He was rapidly losing steam now, and something had ripped his leg open on the way down. Hell. He's just going to sit here now while he bleeds into the snow, all right?]
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Were we enemies, I would grant you a warrior's death now. I would say Thom-Ka as you passed.
[He says this matter of factly, standing over the man]
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That, and the idiot would have kept fighting, otherwise...Derek opens his eyes and actually gives Garrosh a slight, wry smile.]
...Appreciate the thought. You'll have to teach me what that means, some day.
[He closes his eyes again because his head is spinning.]
...But if we can call a truce, I'd appreciate it if you'd get me to the battle dome clinic in the village. Know someone there who can patch me up.
[Yeah, he's really over it that fast. Or maybe he's knocked for more of a loop than it seems.]
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[and with that, he drops his spear and goes to pick up Derek. He's not light, but with strength, it's not impossible - honestly, it's not even hard - for him to lift Derek up from under his arms and lift him over his left shoulder. He'll carry him like that. And with Derek secured on his shoulder, h's going to back-track to where the fight was to get Derek's journal and read that guide as he walks.
His arm arm will just be supporting the guy]
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..It's the last couple of pages. [He offers that quietly before closing his eyes again. He doesn't quite pass out on the way there, but he remains quiet for the trip unless Garrosh asks him something.]
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In fact, he'll do that before getting closes or going to the village - he takes a forest route around it]
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...Tell me he did not run his mouth and earn a beating.
[Idle, wry commentary as she makes her way to Derek's side to help him stand and lean on her instead, assessing the rest of him for any breaks or bruises or cuts.]
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