The Story of Nazgrual.
"Get up! I said get up, you lazy Peon!"
The salty, wet liquid known as 'sweat' trickled down the dark green face of Nazgrual, a lowly orc peon.
He laid in the sun scorched dirt of the Valley of Trials, his body no longer able to endure the torture of harsh labor. His muscles were no longer able to swing the massive Iron Pickaxe that he had to carry.
"Get up!"
The leather whip snapped like the bite of a Scorpid on the back of Nazgrual, and he let out a deafening cry of pain and anguish. As a matter of instinct, he turned as fast as the shot from a blunderbuss to face his cruel master, and threw his fist into his master's jaw, taking him off guard. The master stumbled backwards, shock binding him from making any sort of action. But just as fast as Nazgrual punched him, the cruel Orc's facial expression turned from surprised, to rage.
"How dare you commit such and act of defiance? I'll have your head!" The master charged at Nazgrual, raising the leather whip in the hot air. Nazgrual was tired... tired of this..cruelty! No. He would stand and fight.
As the whip hissed like a serpent, charging for his neck, he ducked, and charged straight for the masters waist. Then, once under the forearms of his master, stood up and grasped his masters hands with his.
The master yanked once, but then, Nazgrual planted his foot on the abdomen of his master, and pushed with all his might, taking the whip as his own.
The masters mouth opened to object as he flew backwards into the dirt of the valley, but his voice turned into a painful yelp as the whip secured itself around his neck. With a scream of fury, Nazgrual flung his master into the sharp, rugged face of a boulder. The master hit the ground, breathing as heavily as an exhausted boar.
Nazgrual held the whip, and spoke sternly to his master, with words of anguish.
"Now you will know the feeling of true pain!"
Nazgrual lifted the whip, its leather form golden in the sun, and brought it down on the masters' ribs.
The whip split the skin of the master, a small burst of crimson blood bursting from his body.
Below it, Nazgrual heard the cracking of ribs.
As his master clutched his wound in pain, Nazgrual dropped the whip, and turned around...
To see a Grunt standing before him, looking upon him with an unreadable expression on his face.
He instantly shot down to the ground and grabbed his Pickaxe, ready to face the warrior.
However, when his meaty hand was looming above the pickaxe, the grunt stopped him with a raise of his hand.
"That is not necessary, my brother. I am here to offer you an opportunity. Or more so, a challenge.
Would you like to hear more, brother.?"
Surprised by the fact that such a fierce warrior was being so friendly, after he had just beat his own master with a whip, Nazgrual's face was frozen for a moment.
"Well?"
The grunts voice was much less friendly this time, so Nazgrual answered abruptly.
"Y-yes."
The grunt smiled, obviously pleased by Nazgruals decision. He stepped forward, his boots like the hammering of thunder.
"What could he possibly want?" Nazgrual thought "Some sort of punishment? A reward? Or maybe just to beat me senseless for the fun of it?"
His thoughts had been so swirling and chaotic that he had forgotten to rise at attention to someone so more superior to him.
He resisted slapping his face with his palm "Idiot!" He thought, and stood.
"Well, I see you have done quite a number on your master. You have violated your caste."
"Damn! A trick! I must flee-"
But before he could finish his thought of immediate distress, the grunt went on.
"However, you have displayed obvious skill, as well. Im going to give you a chance to prove yourself, Peon. What is your given name?" He asked sternly
Nazgrual was relieved to know that this was not a trick, more an opportunity, as the grunt had said earlier. He suddenly warmed up to the grunt.
"Nazgrual, sir."
The grunts eyes went somewhat wider at his name, and he smiled warmly, and yet at the same time tauntingly.
"A very honorable name. Fit for a warrior.."
The grunt trailed off, and Nazgrual was confused.
"What? Does he think me a warrior? That's almost foolish! The very thought.." His thoughts also trailed off.
"But, I am no warrior.." He expressed his confusion.
"Not yet." The grunt said. " But I am giving you the chance to become one. Listen up, and listen good."
"Near by, as you may know, there are dangerous Scorpids. If you kill one of them with your bare hands, I will make you a warrior."
Nazgrual was stunned for a sudden moment. This was his chance to leave this life of suffering. However, it..it was just so unbelievable.
"You..you cannot be serious?"
The grunt turned towards the fields that made the Valley Of Trials.
"Oh, yes, I am young one. Yes I am."
Later...
Nazgrual stood 5 yards away from a deadly looking scorpid. It hissed like rain, and clattered like the fingers of an Undead tapping.
It did not see Nazgrual, for he was hiding behind a brown, dead bush that rested near a boulder, which the grunt from earlier was standing behind.
Also, in the time that has passed, Nazgrual learned the name of the grunt:Yol'Tan
"Are you ready, Nazgrual?" Yol'tan said. "This is incredibly dangerous. Take caution."
Nazgrual responded with a simple nod.
Then, he lifted his arms, and charged from the bushes, ripping them from their very foundations.
With a loud yell, he leaped into the air, his hands clasped together as if he was holding a sword.
His boots hit the ground.
Then, using the momentum of the leap, he brought down his fists upon the back of the now frightened scorpid.
His green, muscular fists shattered the top scales of the Scorpid, sticky green blood arising.
A loud shriek pierced the air, and before he knew it, Nazgrual was on the ground, two claws holding his neck.
With horror, Nazgrual saw the tip of a large tail looming over him, ready to strike. It calculated its aim and lined up perfectly with Nazgruals horrified eye.
"NO!"
And then the tail shot straight for his eye.
Nazgrual shot his fist straight up into the stomach of the Scorpid, and it shrieked, it's balance being tipped to the right. Using this as an advantage, he grabbed the tail with his left hand and stopped it, then scrambled up behind the scorpid, it now facing what was formerly it's right. He set his foot on the back of the scorpid to prevent it from moving. Then, with a scream, he pulled as hard as he could on the tail, scales ripping and cracking under the extreme pressure, like an earthquake sweeping through its skin, green ichor as magma.
Finally, the tail gave way with a final tug, the skin ripping and collapsing upon itself.
Nazgrual held the tail as the scorpid writhed and twisted, dust shooting and rumbling around it's body.
It turned to face Nazgrual, however, it's body could no longer take it, as its wounds were becoming infected.
It's eyes fluttered and closed, its body crumpled to the ground, one last twitch uttering from it's leg before finally dying. The green skinned orc threw out his arms, lifted his face to the sky, and pushed a mighty roar from his chest.
He fell to his knees, still pushing air from his muscular chest. Finally, he stopped, laboriously trying to regain steady breathing. His hands loosened their grip on the scaly tail.
He stood to his feet and looked to Yol'tan.
Yol'Tan had an approving look on his face, although his silence was strange.
Finally, he said:
"Congratulations, Warrior. You have prevailed."
It had been 3 hours since his fight with the Scorpid. Yol'tan had given him a rusty Battleax, and told him to meet him outside of the Valley Of Trials tomorrow for his first assignment.
He was now in the Den, resting up. He now realized that he needed a stretch, so he lazily pushed himself up from a bench that had been illuminated by torchlight, and stepped out into the night skies of Durotar.
However, out there, he squinted to see three suspicious looking orcs facing him. They had malicious looks about their faces.
One finally spoke:
"Hello, peon. Ready for a little game?"
Then they pulled out their Axes.
A/N: Cliffhanga. Cool, Huh?