Kuurzon.
(note, previously published but cant get into old account. this is updated new version of tale)
Kuurzon was born, not at home but on a long slow journey.
His parents, not being the smart type but a par of average manual laboring members of a primitive society. They were peons. His father worked various jobs, he wasn't special and pretty lazy often seen in the training areas hitting trees and being bonked on the head by training orcs.
His mother, we was really the brains of the pair. She at least made things to sell to the residents of Durotar. useful things like baskets, bags and some leather goods.
Despite their shortcomings, Kuurzon's mom and dad were inseparable, and eventually he was born.
On a wagon.
Pulled by a big bad smelling kodo.
In a swamp.
Unfortunately, things turned badly for these orcs, their troll friend and goblin driver. A half dozen rogue pirates had spotted them, eyeing the cargo the wagon and beast carried.
What happened next was nearly too fast to see. The pirates leapt from trees down onto the wagon, killing those riding along. The male orc was dispatched by a rip in the throat, the female was stabbed. The troll only turned behind to see what was going on, then he too perished. The goblin was the easiest, he even tried to beg and make a deal but these pirates found him amusing, laughed and done away with him.
Quickly, packages and valuables were taken, and even the kodo.
Somehow a small bundle in a open top crate was missed, it slept through the whole ordeal, snug and warm in his blanket.
Kuurzon's early days.
A few things need to be said about the Orc people.
Orcs are green. Various shades of green, olive, dark or light green. The males are often hunched over a little, many are not. They posses massive hands and strong wrists, small beady eyes but keen as any predator and a pair of tusks jutting from the lower jaw at the corners of the mouth, often a smaller pair grow next to those with age. Female orcs are just as hefty in muscle, but are not as tall or hulking, they have the typical curvy female body. Their hair styles vary from bald, to a ponytail, to long and straight to spikes, the colors are dark tones of black, brown and such.
They have a long history, are not of Azeroth and are normally a peaceful shaman based culture but current events, those that are a long story, force them to defend themselves and a warrior like attitude became more common. Often one would hear "Death to the Alliance" or "For the Horde!" bellowed before a battle against their enemy, that aforementioned Alliance.
Orcs hate humans, generally speaking. They are their sworn enemy. The humans are a part of this Alliance, along with Dranei, Night Elves, Gnomes, Dwarves, Worgen (a werewolf like race) and some Pandarens.
The other side, our hero's side is the Horde. Made up of Trolls, Tauren, Goblins, Blood Elves, Undead(aka the Forsaken), and also, Pandaren that think differently from their Alliance traitors. For eons wars and peace break out, cataclysmic events occur, once in awhile temporary truces are formed and subsequently broken. It is the way of life on Azeroth.
And poor little baby Kuurzon was left for dead.
He laid there alone, tucked in his little make shift bassinet that really was nothing more than a crate, it was intended to be temporary until it would be possible to get new baby things. But now this wouldn't happen. His mother slumped over his crate, partially hiding him. But once he became hungry, he began to wail. Something in his pants may have also been part of his loud complaints as well.
A lone woman of about twenty seven, give or take a day or three, rode her horse along the trail with two mutts following along. Tied to her saddle were the evening's catch, a rabbit and two small fish. This was her daily routine. She would saddle up, ride out for fowl or rabbit, if she was lucky there would be a turkey. She carried a crossbow and a quiver of bolts on her back. She was not a wild woman in skins for clothing but one who was part of modern society but kept her distance. She dressed comfortably and lived in a two room cabin not far from Theramore. She wasn't a big fan of the current political weather lately; she only wandered into the small keep for supplies when needed and left just as quickly.
Her cabin was in a grassy clearing that allowed sunlight to dance on the vegetable garden she grew, warm the back of her horse when he rested in his small paddock and tanned her skin as she worked the yard. The whole yard was fenced at the perimeter with a gate to allow entry and secure enough to keep out any stray crocolisks snooping around. And of course the yard was guarded by the two dogs who accompanied her everywhere.
At least once or twice a day one of the guards from the nearby tower would stop by and check on her.
As she rode along she appeared to be talking to herself, but it was the horse she was speaking with. Naturally he had no understanding to the words but he kept one ear flipped back towards her as if he was listening. But the dogs, they caught the steed's attention when they suddenly bolted from behind charging ahead of the trail at full run.
Without a second thought, Ashira encouraged her horse to follow at a canter catching up with the dogs. The group came upon a horrific scene, her heart sank at the deaths of these people. The goblin had been beheaded, the were puddles of red around the cart, things thrown about, torn open, but the noise coming from the top of the cart directed her attention as her dogs were already sniffing and clawing around the wailing noise.
"Oh my goodness…." She leapt off the horse and hopped up onto the cart finding the two Orcs slumped. The male looked very pale, he was certainly dead but the female had a little bit of color in her skin still. She placed a hand on the female, finding a small amount of warmth. But from under the female's body, there was a crate and a little wailing face looking up. Instinctively Ashira reached down and picked up the little one, and immediately he became silent.
"Hey, can you hear me? Are you hearing me?" Holding the child with one arm now, she gently shook the green shoulder resulting in the orc woman to inhale sharply, "Take K…k…uurzon. Keep."
Seemed the orc woman could speak some words Ashira could understand. "Come, let me help you. My horse will carry you."
What Ashira couldn't see what a slowly bleeding wound on the orc's chest.
"No…I go… now. Take Kuurzon. Be sa..feee….." The voice became much weaker with every word, until the breath was gone.
Another orc had joined her ancestors.
"Poor little one." He truly felt sad for the little one who had just lost his parents. It tore her heart out. She looked back where she left the bodies then back to the baby. What should she really do? Turn him over to the authorities?
She remounted carefully, balancing herself doing so and keeping a firm grip on the baby. She wrapped the blanket snugly around him and called the dogs to follow and continued on.
What a day.