Author's note: i do not own any of blizzards stuff. all credit goes to Blizzard and who ever co created Warcraft. This story is on a map with a greater scale wich means that some places have eventually grown into city's and small towns created. Note that this is my very first fiction so any suggestions/tips are welcome
Durotar, the most beloved lands of the Orcs and Trolls. Named after the father of our great war-chief Thrall. War chief of the frostwolves. We, the orcs of the warsong clan had much to sacrifice to the war chief, the loss of our great chieftain and to make matters worse, send the most powerful clan on labour missions. But that is behind us now.
Me, an adopted son of Rok'mal my father are living in the small Town Grommar, named after our own chieftain Grommash Hellscream. Our town consists of The den, which the town grew from, a blacksmith, a wolf breeder, a couple of streets and a quarry in the southeast of the valley where it once was crowded with centaurs. I originally was born in Garadar, but i was immidiatly brought to Azeroth because of my real parent's died of an accident of unknown causes. I was taken in by my step mother Riga but right after we came to my new home in splintertree post. my step mother died of an arrow shot by the Night elves, while she and my step father and i tried to flee from a surprise attack from the Night elves against Splinter tree post. I was a baby back then. I couldn't remember seeing the loss of my step mother, but my father knew how and he swore that who ever killed his wife will be punished with a slow death. I come from the mag'har clan and I am untouched by the demonic blood pact, which leaves my skins in its original orcish color, brown!
I have a step father that was stubborn but kind. He taught me everything he knew about mining and how to become an expert in the fields of the blacksmith. We have a lovely house and I even had my own bedroom. The town lays in the so called "Valley of trials", where the new born warriors of both orc and troll are forged.
I really couldn't care less.
Me and my father live our lives as miners and smiths. The lands of Durotar and our valley is scarce on water, leaving a rusty view, so a farm would be unwise to start, however Durotar did not lack natural resources and even contained the most copper and tin concentration in whole Azeroth. We made weapons, Armor of both plate and mail, repaired it and even made some ammunition since the increasing demand for guns has risen enormously and it all went to Razor hill.
But you aren't interested in what we do as a living, no. You are interested in the following story that I am going to share with you. My name is Goreshan, I'm 27 years old and this is my story.
10 years ago...
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I was in my bedroom in our house. Laying on my bed half awake.
For the first time in my live I've heard rain in Durotar and I enjoyed every moment of it. The morning sun hasn't risen yet so I could just lay and sleep all day if I could. But of course that was to much to ask.
"Son, wake up!"
Rok'mal, my father. He is a great man and I have the most respect for him. You could see by his face that he aged by the time but don't be fooled by the hairless olive green old man. He was a shaman, serving the clans very own chieftain.
I growled myself awake as I turned my face towards my father, eyelids still closed.
"Is there something wrong, father?" with the most deep voice I've ever made.
He started to approach me and started to growl even harder.
"Yes, there is something wrong! The sun is rising and guess who overslept himself again?!"
My eyelids suddenly went open and I rushed to stand up, trying to apologize to my father. Not aware that I was only in my underwear. Until the very last moment.
"I'm sorry, father! I should have woken up earlier, but it is all to hard for me."
My Father suddenly started to laugh. I couldn't help but smile.
"I've heard this apology of yours before and every morning it's the same story with you."
He then patted me on my shoulder and said;"your a damn fine smith, son. Such talents are required if you wish to make armor for Northrend." he sniffed the air for a bit. Then continued;"but you better be up early if you wish to leave an impression." as he turned around to leave the room, he stopped just before the door and he commented: "and clean yourself up! You smell worse then a Dwarven beard!" and left the room. Then I took a sniff under my arm pits."yeah, I'm off to the cove north of here to take a bath."
I took my clothes and a soap and a comb, why did I take my comb? Because my hair was really long and my fellow elder orc brothers told me that my hair reminded them that of Grom Hellscreams. Grom... gave his life in exchange for the freedom of the orcs. Even though my family is unaffected by the blood pact the demons gave. I still feel pride in my chieftain for this honorable act. With the lust for power in the orcs gone. This gave me hope for a new orcish race without the affection of demonic control. I would make the elders proud of me. The elders always tried to talk me into the shamanistic ways, but I still prefer the warriors way, but still, if there is a way to combine these two ways of life, It would make a man unstoppable with the force of the axe in one hand and the power of the spirits in the other. Thrall managed to do so, to become a warrior, but also to become a shaman. He might not be my favorite war chief but he did accomplish the impossible.
As I picked everything up that I needed, put it in my backpack which was laying next to my door, I walked into the main room and saw my Father eating breakfast on the main table and next to his plate was mine. The table had two seats and were both carved out of wood from Ashenvale as a reminder of the place they fought for. But that was for another time. I started to notice the plate next to my father's "Sweet! cactus apples and an ostrich egg!"
my father just looked at me raised an eyebrow: "were you expecting something else?"
"No, there's nothing in Durotar worth eating except for all the boar meat! This is a god forsaken land with no fertile ground and a scarce for water! Why did the orcs come here in the first place?!" my father just looked at me and shook his head a little.
"Now listen to me. We fought for this land. We fought for it because we believed It would grant our children the freedom they deserve and here you are complaining about the lack of luxury you're getting. You know if I knew our children would grow to become this honorless we would rather go to Tanaris, see what you prefer then."
I knew my father was getting mad because he lost his wife to get me here.
"D...Father. I meant no disrespect. I'm just tired of seeing everybody getting the same every day, with nothing else to look forward to. I want our people to have more, I'm not speaking for myself." with that my father calmed down a little bit and turned to his plate again."I'm tired of it to, son. It's just that our War chief is to busy about Northrend to be concerned about the state we are in. Trust me when I say that I miss having fresh orcish bread and the sweet nectar of peaches from Nagrand.." my father seems to be drifting away in his thoughts."but alas, those days are over and we need to move on. Otherwise we would've been wiped out a long time ago."
I took a seat at the table and looked at my father."Father, what is Nagrand?"
My Father turned to me and I could see him reminding himself his childhood..
"Nagrand was our original home, but you were to young to remember, it is the most amazing place in the know universe. The orcs back then used to live peacefully with the draenei a long time ago and all was good. There was no worry's no lack of food and water, no lack of trust our tribes and clan's were united as never seen before."father seems to remember something horrible since his facial expression turned from soft to emotionless. "but that is all but a memory now." I just simply gave a nod, and started on my breakfast. Then the question popped out:"Father, I want to become a warrior! I want to fight for honor! I can't remain here all my life! I seek training but I have no idea to start."i looked down as if a picture of me holding a warsong battle standard untop op my enemy's corpses, wearing only the best crafted armor there was available.: "i want help!".
My Father just sat there focused on his plate, but would give the answer he always gave.: "all in good time, son. You must be patient" I just sighed and continued eating. Looking outside I've noticed the rain stopped pouring. Time to go wash!
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As I am done, bathing and cleaning myself up, me and my Father went on our way to the quarry in our wooden caravan, we had 4 wolves guiding the caravan, 2 timber wolves in front and 2 black wolves back. The land was as rusty as ever. It was mid day, with all the rains already dried out, the sun is heating the ground so much you could hear the wolves moan in pain and the dusty air wasn't making the situation any better. the quarry which previously was the home of a small centaur clan was full of copper and tin later discovered by the troll named Lar Prowltusk who eliminated the centaur. He made a different turn which made me curious why, but before I could ask, he turned to me and said.:
"I'm going to teach you how to smelt iron and steel. The nearest quarry for iron ore in in a canyon, which is called ' thousand needles' by the tauren." I gave a nod but I had more questions to ask, but I picked out the best 3 from the 14."How far is it?" Father just looked forward and raised his shoulders. I noticed there was only one pick axe in the caravan so before I could ask why he had a sad look on his face, I turned my attention to the road. Father looked around and mumbled something under his breath, probably asking the spirits for a favor.
"It is time for the training of your class. Son, I want you to become a Shaman, in the ways of the elements."
I was surprised and I couldn't believe my ears! Was he actually trying to teach me shamanism instead of the ways of the warrior? I'm against this! But before I could speak my mind, he continued:
"So for you to become an elemental shaman, you need to know how to survive on your own,to communicate with others, to witness all the emotions and most important, to receive the blessings and guidance of the spirits!"
I... I don't want to become a shaman! Not that I wasn't interested, the thing is that my dream of becoming a warrior is threatened now!
"But Father. I don't want to become a shaman! I'd rather be a warrior, all strong and mighty, the honor. I refuse to become something that I do not wish to become!"
my Father just sat silent and rode the caravan to the nearest crossroad and stopped for a minute.
The crossroad countained two signes, 1 that pointed razor hill to the right out, the other pointed Sen'jin to the left out. In the middle stood a courier investigating his luggadge.
"Son, you have always talked about the ways of shamanism. You showed interests when the elders told you story's about Ner'zhul and Drek'thar.i even caught a glimpse of you trying to cast a lightning bolt!" I did not like this, not one bit. "Father I do not wish to become a shaman, I wish to become a warrior of the warsong clan! A shaman is not seen as a warrior!"
My father looked at me but then I heard the sentence I was waiting my whole life to hear.:
"very well, if you want to be a warrior, so be it..."
I just sat there with wide eyes, mouth open and the feeling of joy excitement kicking in. I would chose for the warrior. "...but could you at least consider it?"and then I started to think what I could miss if I actually did become a warrior. The elements, the enchantments, the magic. Blasting lava from my palms, electricity to fry my enemies. That would be allot to give up if I am going to become a warrior. Then I remembered the idea of becoming both, a shamanistic warrior. I've heard that one person with enough willpower to succeed will become a master in both classes. But I think it is just a rumor. Yet it won't hurt to ask, will it?
"...Father, I have a question that may sound a little bit weird."
my Father gave a simple nod.
"Is someone able to become both a warrior and a shaman when enough effort is put into it? I've heard rumors that a simple female orc managed to wield an axe, with the enchantments of frost..."
It is impossible for a warrior to carry a weapon that is enchanted with frost magic due to the lack of control over the ice. Only a true magician could master that kind of power. "...so I am going to master both a shaman and a warrior. shamanistic warrior combination" Father went eyes wide for a second answered with a simple nod. "To master both, you need to focus on the hardest tasks first, a warrior is trained by experience he makes, but a shaman must learn, be patient, be spiritual, be balanced and to be fierce." the old man had a smile on his face.
"As an old shaman, I suggest you start with earth. Earth is an element of power. It contains strength, patience, single minded and decisive. For that, we are going to meet the troll shamans of earth"
My father looked at the signs and pointed Sen'jin out.
"you are first going to Sen'jin city, the shamans of earth are in the main hall of the city and to get their attention... Trolls are always calm in their free time and they never worry if it is not critical in their eyes. So you need to do things that are rather... unusual, to fit in, but you will do just fine." Father looks at me and nods.
"you're a strong young man, I think you can manage just fine." he grabs a sack of gold coins and hands it over to me, ooh man I think I know what this trying to fit in mean. "you need to do this on your own in order to fully understand everything. You need to have the feeling that I cannot come to the rescue every time you cause trouble. It are situations like that who will make you aware of the dangers in the world. Which makes you stronger."
I stared at my father and I felt being left alone. I wanted to reconsider the training but I cant, I... won't. I need to finish this.
"Son, I will be in Razor hill, I have some work to do and I will remain there for a week. Should you've failed your tasks with the earth, then you will have to venture to razor hill." Father looks into the distance and then faces me again.: "should you succeed, you are to venture alone to Orgrimmar to find Grezz Ragefist, he is an old friend of mine and is an excellent warrior trainer. But only visit him AFTER you have completed your tasks with the earthen shaman."
I gave a nod of understanding and took the sack of gold.
"this is farewell son, good luck with your training, although it is a hard one. I have full convidence that you will make it. good by son". And with a slash on the reigns, my father went north to razor hill. I stood there with only my clothes and a sack of coins in my hands. "off the sen'jin city!"