~Soulcleaver~
Part I: "Nuk'hara. Nuk'hara Soulcleaver."
In the desert sands of Tanaris, there is nothing. Maybe a few bone piles here and there, maybe an encampment for some of the natives like ogres or trolls, even a few small water-pumps, guarded by the Wastewalker Renegades, other than that, there were just rolling dunes of sand and small mountains of beaten earth.
Along the horizon coming in from Steamwheedle Port and walking along the large dunes was a burly, robed and hooded figure. His face was completely hidden by the hood and veil. He seemed to be navigating the sands expertly, as if he was a native to these lands.
However, this story isn't about him. In fact, his story is about to come to an end. As he neared some ruins next to the road, he stopped. With his right hand, he reached up, grabbed the hood and veil and pulled them both down. He was revealed to be a human with a large scar down his right cheek and lengthy black hair that ran down to his neck.
"Hey! Where are you idiots? I didn't leave to come back to an empty camp!" His voice was deep and commanding; obviously he was the leader of the band that was supposed to be here.
"Right here…" An even larger, pale-green figure stepped out from the side of one of the ruined walls, wielding a large battle-ax. He was an orc and one of the greatest fighters on Kalimdor – if not the entirety of Azeroth. He was barely covered at all, aside from a pair of scale leggings. He was that of a standard orc – over six-feet tall and totally muscular.
"Fuh-…"Before the human had a chance to turn, his head flew right off and towards a small dune, five feet to the side. A fountain of the crimson blood shot out of the decapitated form for several seconds before dying down and the corpse falling over limp.
His rough skin now mostly covered in the red stuff, the man-beast walked over to the head - whose expression showed one of mild surprise. One large hand with meaty fingers reached down to grab the head by the hair and hoisted it up and over his shoulder.
"Bargar, come on!" he bellowed. A brown war-worg jumped around the corner of another structure, running and sliding to a stop along the sands in front of his rider. There were a few knapsacks on the wolf's saddle. One of the moderately sized seemed to be a perfect fit as the orc opened it up and dropped the head inside.
From one of the smaller satchels near the worg's head, a tiny white ball popped out and gave a quiet meow. The orc swung his left leg up and hoisted himself into the saddle, reaching into the bag and pulled out the small feline.
"Well, hello to you, too, Lita." Again the kitten meowed and the menacing orc seemed to soften quite a bit as he brought the ball of fuzz up to his face so it could lick some of the blood off. After most of his face had been cleaned, he set the little kitten upon his shoulder and nudged the ribs of his mount with his shoeless feet to start it off.
It took about half an hour for them to reach the Goblin town of Gadgetzan, passing even more deserted ruins and even a graveyard with a hanging-stage along the way. Once inside and past the gates, the trio was approached by an uglier, smaller, greener creature whose ears were pointed and large, teeth were jagged and menacing, and his lips curled into a wry and deceitful grin.
"Well, how did it gooooo?" Even the little bugger's voice was bothersome – high-pitched and whiny with a hint of curiosity that would indeed kill a cat.
"Well enough. Caliph Scorpidsting's head is right here." With his left hand, the orc reached back to the knapsack he had dropped the head into, opened it up, grabbed the head and dropped it back down in front of the goblin. Along the first segments of the fingers, in blank ink – from the index to pinky – read "Ogar."
"Well, it's about damned time!" The little demon-like creature shouted in glee, picked up the head and, in all the same motion, tossed a small jingling pouch which was quickly caught by the executer of this mission. Again, the creature spoke, "Thanks, stranger! Say, what is your name?"
Just as the orc and his companions were turning to leave, he waved his right hand back at the goblin; it was upside down, but it read "Dabu" over the first segments of his fingers – starting from the pinky to the index in the same ink.
"Nuk'hara. Nuk'hara Soulcleaver." Again, he nudged the ribs of his mount and they started off, on their next quest.
