gorehowl | Third

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Third

[So Garrosh has been living in a camp on the rough edges of the Farmlands for the last few weeks. The hermitage isn't exactly pleasant, but it is better than being in a village full of repugnant, apathetic, humans. He's considering constructing a proper house, because despite his best efforts to the contrary, the tent he's in is pretty darn cold. There's a few Farm buildings he's taken to crawling into when it gets too cold and there's a large fire he keeps up too.

Not that it's easy. The snow here is thick, far thicker than either Durotar or Nagrand (less than Northrend though, which is why the cold isn't bothering him too much) and it's making hunting a nightmare. Foraging too. Garrosh is smart enough to objectively know that especially since the heavier snow this last weekend, he's barely making it by. Still, he's not going to go into town and use that grocery thing. No sir. That'd be showing weakness to an enemy. Still, all these hardships just make him want to go and get in a real fight. Gorehowl thirsts for blood, particularly with how impudent many are here.

But he reigns in that anger. He'll explode it on his enemies (he needs to constantly remind himself the humans in that village aren't Alliance) later. Instead, he picks up his journal again. It's been some time since he opened it. The last time he did there were disappointing, but people have told him it's a source for information and he himself realizes it's an important part of the community of this enclosure. So he opens and... "Youth is love."

Really. Really? He almost slams the book shut again, but he reigns that in and, snarling, goes to make his own entry]

[Voice/Action]
Are these tomes actually used for anything useful? [Which he knows is a useless question in and of itself, but. The anger in his voice is obvious and right now he doesn't care] Entries about love, random sounds and pointless sentences, gossip. [He snarls and just. Leaves it at that] Though, I suppose asking a question seems to fit with a pattern, leafing back.

[And with that he's done. However, you can talk to him in voice or encounter him at his camp in person! Garrosh does have love and hate triggers for the event. Also after this post, sometime within the next few days, one of the people he's interested in now or some other force or something will get him to actually come to the village, so you might see an eight foot tall tattooed orc in full armor (but with a cloak on over the armor) standing around the village as if looking for something to catch his interest. You might also run into him probing the door of Good Spirits (though not actually inside, probably), in Seventh Heaven (to see what's up with it) and finally, bunking at the Welcome Center if no one takes him home or anything like that.

Have at any which way]

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[She waits several minutes so that he can get a good look, even giving her larger set a wings a flap or two. Then she changes her yellow eyes shifting first, turning into a shade of blue that is missing it's pupil. Then she grows smaller once again and her paws turning back to fingers.

She is short and very thin. This time nearly all her scales all gone, but she's still flat chested. As soon as she in this form she slips the dress back on and huddles very close to the fire. Not exactly sure how long she can stay in this form in the cold, but reluctant to change again so quickly.

Her voice, gets a softer tone to it when she finally speaks again.] Do you like my other forms?

[If he's surprised at her shedding the garment, he's not showing it. Rather, he sets down the knife he's fiddling with the berries with and then sits, intently watching her transformations. His eyes get wider at the dragon form though - a dragon, a blue dragon causes him to want to pick up his axe, the Nexus War fresh in his mind. But he recalls Draco, recalls her earlier sentiment, and while his eyes widen, he doesn't move, instead keeping his eyes fixes on her own.

She looks magnificent, honestly.]

[The second form is what causes him to tilt his head slightly, uncomprehending. Is this the "nymph?" Or... related to it. It's ugly, in his opinion. It's slight and thin and it reminds him of some perverse combination of an elf and a gnome. Still, with her tone, that recoiling dies down outside of perhaps his face. And he carefully chooses his next words.]

You're very eager for my approval, Xzana. It's not necessary for you to do that.

I am not eager for your approval. [Yes, she is, but stubborn pride wants her to say otherwise.

She moves herself closer to the fire. The cold taking over this body much faster than she'd like it to.] Although, you do not like this form very much.

And it doesn't do well with cold. [He stands now, or at least half-stands to pull the cloak of crudely sewn together furs he's been wearing over the armor he has on now, the one with Mannoroth's tusks. He then tosses the cloak (big enough for him) over her, which probably covers her entirely right now]

It is not so good outside of water. [She pulls the cloak close for a moment without thinking.] You need this to stay warm. The cold will just cause this body to sleep. I can change back to a better form in a moment. [Just a rest for now is what she needs. It's been a long time since she's changed so quickly between her three forms.]

I've survived Northrend while fighting the dead we discussed before. This cold is strong, but it won't kill me to be without it for a while. [Seriously, it's cool. He grunts and sits back down with the berries]

Very well. [Then she'll go ahead and pull it close, but it will only fight the cold off for so long.] I hope that the cold season will end soon.

So do I. Crops won't grow like this, and game's scarce. It's hard enough to make people spirited without the weather bringing them down.

[And he sighs, allowing some doubt to sink in, possibly because of her company]

Usually I'd sleep through the cold, but I don't dare sleep for so long with the Malnosso around.

You'd sleep the entire winter? You heritage doesn't give you resistance to the cold?

[She's a blue, after all]

Some of my brothers and sisters can. I cannot.

[She shuts her eyes, and transforms one more time back into her original form. Hoping she won't have to change again for awhile.]

You have siblings, despite your unique parentage?

[And now he returns to fiddling with the berries. Because he felt his stomach grumble]

Of course, my mother had very good blood. All of her eggs hatched and nearly all of us lived.

And what of you father, Xzana?

I do not know my father. I grew up among my mother's clan. Not his. [It's something she's given little thought to. Her mother mated with someone and that's how she was created. That's about the extent of her knowledge. Was her father as pure of blood? Could she be more mixed then what she thought? She didn't pay much mind to it.

She had heard the whispers that her mother had been forced upon, but Xzana finds that hard to believe. That a nymph could force a dragon to do something it didn't want. Of course, she also couldn't figure out why her mother would have ever mated outside her species.

Then again. Maybe these feelings she was suddenly feeling towards Garrosh. Could that be what her mother had felt?]

So one did not join the other, and you didn't learn of him later in life. [That's... troubling for him to imagine. Still, he states it as a matter of fact, only sort of looking at her as he gets the hairs out of this last berry and pops it into his mouth. He chews, slowly.]

No, they did not and I have not met him. [She realizes she should probably return his cloak now that she no longer needs it again, but she's enjoying the smell of it.

It smells just like he does she assumes.]

Rr. A shame, if you ask me, but if your mother is the one you take pride in, as you should, that's understandable.

[And now onto a new berry, after he gives himself an approving nod]

I have never thought before of finding and meeting my father. [Well, maybe once or twice, but never seriously.] Perhaps there are some things he could have taught me.

Did you know your mother and father?

[He nods, slowly] I am the son of Lakkara and Grom Hellscream. I didn't know my father much of my life, though I was raised on stories of him. Terrible stories, which made him sound like a monster. [And he shakes his head] He left for another world, and never returned to where my mother and I left to survive red pox, a disease which gripped the orcs in my youth. For years, I thought ill of my heritage, until Thrall came to Outland. It was then that I was exposed to my father's heroism. He gave his life to liberate my people from the demons, and in that moment, I realized the truth of my heritage.

[She slowly moves herself closer to him yet again. Hanging on every word of his story as he tells it. Some of it she doesn't fully understand, but she can easily grasp the bigger picture of it all.] Your father, sounds like a very brave man.

He was. Brave and honorable. The orcs as a whole owe him a great debt.

I do not know of any as brave as he must have been. [She actually probably does, but being a bit spell bound at the moment she can't think of any.

A bit shyly and a bit keeping her eye on his weapon she takes a chance to see if he'll let her sit down next to him.]

[He allows her to get closer. In truth, he's actually been very accommodating so far. But he smiles a little to himself at her praise of Grom Hellscream. that's cool. And...]

This axe is something I inherited from him.

[When he sees her look at it.]

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