![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Second
[On Garrosh's first day he learned quite a bit. Not what the people of this enclosure seemed to want him or expect him to learn, but he learned all the same. The people here were powerful, but listless. Strong, but weak in spirit. Or perhaps, their spirit was not channeled properly. It was not focused. They were warriors, but they must be from soft worlds. Worlds which has not gone through the likes of his own. The Nexus War. The Lich King. The Shattering. Azeroth was a land of conflict, and it forged its people - particularly the Horde - towards one purpose: war. Those who he had talked to here clearly feared war, and that fear prevented them from making the logical conclusions he had beginning to draw. They had told him the situation was complicated or delicate even as they had begun to rot in apathy.
He would change them.]
[Action A]
[But he couldn't do that before he knew what he had to work with. It was the dead of winter, in a climate which he was in no way used to. Still, he had survived off the land as best he could and circled around most of the barrier on the village's side of the mountains. He'd traversed some in the mountains as well, and as a result of that (plus Saleh's knife) he now sported a crudely made pouch and cloak of hides and furs. The other item he took (Silver's journal) had since been discarded near the barracks.
Because he took one of their "teleporters" (a brilliant mage's invention, more sturdy seeming than a portal, but more jarring) to the beach. In his armor and the cloak, he walks the shoreline through the cold and snow, going up onto the (stone? He approves) docks to look at the various ships there. He contemplates taking one to take to the seas, but thinks better of it. He has no crew, and it is winter. Still, he'll probably be at least contemplating boarding them if no one stops him.]
[Action B]
[Probably on a different day from his farm adventures, and pulling his cloak tight about him, Garrosh is making his way towards the farmlands. Obviously, he does not expect anything to be in season in this cold and snow, but he wants to see with his own eyes what the operation looks like.
Perhaps meet a farmer and inquire what is grown, and in what amount. Go into the barns and see the livestock. He needs to know what infrastructure already exists before he knows if his army-to-be can be fed. After all, there's no mining operations as far as he can tell, so they will need some work. He can only hope it's less than he's honestly beginning to expect.]
[Action C]
[And finally, back to the village. He has no intention of staying, but as most of the possible soldiers (he has to keep reminding himself they are indeed that, what with it being so full of humans) live here, he needs to spend some time here to know them. Know their strengths, their customs, as deplorable as they already have proved themselves to be what with the apathy inherent in this village life.
So, on this night, he makes his way into Good Spirits, again following the map, and once inside sheds his fur cloak for a hanger. He does not get out of his armor though, and did not put Gorehowl away. Let the humans see the ax and Mannoroth's tusks on his shoulders. Let them be impressed. He'll just go get a drink. He intends to socialize (that's the point of being here) but the minute he steps inside the stench of the place insults him, putting him in a foul mood. It'll be an uphill battle.]
[Run into him in any places (the docks (A), the farmland (B) or the bar (C)) as it pleases you. the timeline of this post is sort of nebulous: feel free to assume any time between now and the start of fourth wall.]
He would change them.]
[Action A]
[But he couldn't do that before he knew what he had to work with. It was the dead of winter, in a climate which he was in no way used to. Still, he had survived off the land as best he could and circled around most of the barrier on the village's side of the mountains. He'd traversed some in the mountains as well, and as a result of that (plus Saleh's knife) he now sported a crudely made pouch and cloak of hides and furs. The other item he took (Silver's journal) had since been discarded near the barracks.
Because he took one of their "teleporters" (a brilliant mage's invention, more sturdy seeming than a portal, but more jarring) to the beach. In his armor and the cloak, he walks the shoreline through the cold and snow, going up onto the (stone? He approves) docks to look at the various ships there. He contemplates taking one to take to the seas, but thinks better of it. He has no crew, and it is winter. Still, he'll probably be at least contemplating boarding them if no one stops him.]
[Action B]
[Probably on a different day from his farm adventures, and pulling his cloak tight about him, Garrosh is making his way towards the farmlands. Obviously, he does not expect anything to be in season in this cold and snow, but he wants to see with his own eyes what the operation looks like.
Perhaps meet a farmer and inquire what is grown, and in what amount. Go into the barns and see the livestock. He needs to know what infrastructure already exists before he knows if his army-to-be can be fed. After all, there's no mining operations as far as he can tell, so they will need some work. He can only hope it's less than he's honestly beginning to expect.]
[Action C]
[And finally, back to the village. He has no intention of staying, but as most of the possible soldiers (he has to keep reminding himself they are indeed that, what with it being so full of humans) live here, he needs to spend some time here to know them. Know their strengths, their customs, as deplorable as they already have proved themselves to be what with the apathy inherent in this village life.
So, on this night, he makes his way into Good Spirits, again following the map, and once inside sheds his fur cloak for a hanger. He does not get out of his armor though, and did not put Gorehowl away. Let the humans see the ax and Mannoroth's tusks on his shoulders. Let them be impressed. He'll just go get a drink. He intends to socialize (that's the point of being here) but the minute he steps inside the stench of the place insults him, putting him in a foul mood. It'll be an uphill battle.]
[Run into him in any places (the docks (A), the farmland (B) or the bar (C)) as it pleases you. the timeline of this post is sort of nebulous: feel free to assume any time between now and the start of fourth wall.]
same tbh
no subject
He'd just have to get it out of the ground first.]
[A hand finds a hip where the other hangs lazily at his side, reveling in Garrosh's obvious anger.]
I'll give you some credit there-! You swam with the best of the fish, I think you'd fit right in. Perhaps one of the mages back in the village can outfit you with a set of gills! [He glances down at Gorehowl, embedded into the ground, only to look back up and grin even more, that grin he used to mock his opponents in battle.]
Let this serve as a lesson to you, Warchief. Your army is meaningless if you yourself cannot fight well enough to lead. There are many who are powerful, not as powerful as I am, but still powerful. And who says one of them won't kill you? You aren't making it very hard to give me a reason to end your life. Luckily for you I'm feeling generous today!
[He turns on his heel, feeling he's made his point, and begins to walk away from the orc.]
1/2
no subject
[It's stated quietly, a dark oath to himself. He'll take a lesson for today. But it won't be without vengeance.]
no subject
He turns his head and shoots an arrogant smile back at the orc before he takes off, a blue energy springing to life, licking around him like fire encompassing his body and flies over the mountain range surrounding the beach back to Luceti.]