((Thank you so much for the great feedback for “Into the Fire”! Today’s story will be a much more somber affair. And shorter.))
Warchief Garrosh decreed that the city needed to be rebuilt immediately or risk being overrun by the Alliance in its moment of weakness. Many assumed that the Alliance had their hands full recovering from similar disasters, but did not dare complain. In Garrosh’s words, Orgrimmar would soon rise from the ashes, and return stronger than ever.
There was no time to grieve. After the fires, many of the dead – to the extent that their bodies could even be found – had to be hastily buried. Right outside Orgrimmar’s main gate, each day the graves grew in number.
Normally, orcish burial markers would be adorned with deeply personal artifacts of the departed – mementos of enemies slain, or weapons that were significant during their lifetime. Children laid to rest often had dolls and other playthings by their stone.
For many, the fires of Orgrimmar had taken away everything. Rongar saw many markers that were completely bare. Others had a just one or two objects brought by a friend to honor the deceased.
Rongar performed many burial rites the following days, tasks that only kept bringing back memories of the last moments of Orda’s life.
Although each family was genuinely thankful for his services, Rongar felt like a mere shell. During the invasion, he had been unable to contain any of the rampaging fire elementals. He had been unable to protect his city, unable to protect his wife.
The shaman felt numb, and for the first time completely alone.
As he was going through the motions of guiding the spirits of fallen warriors, workers and children to their next lives, Rongar kept his apprehensions to himself. He could not add his own worries to the heavy burden the survivors already had to bear.
If the elements had indeed become corrupted, there were far greater dangers ahead than the fire that just destroyed the city.
Warchief Garrosh decreed that the city needed to be rebuilt immediately or risk being overrun by the Alliance in its moment of weakness. Many assumed that the Alliance had their hands full recovering from similar disasters, but did not dare complain. In Garrosh’s words, Orgrimmar would soon rise from the ashes, and return stronger than ever.
There was no time to grieve. After the fires, many of the dead – to the extent that their bodies could even be found – had to be hastily buried. Right outside Orgrimmar’s main gate, each day the graves grew in number.
Normally, orcish burial markers would be adorned with deeply personal artifacts of the departed – mementos of enemies slain, or weapons that were significant during their lifetime. Children laid to rest often had dolls and other playthings by their stone.
For many, the fires of Orgrimmar had taken away everything. Rongar saw many markers that were completely bare. Others had a just one or two objects brought by a friend to honor the deceased.
Rongar performed many burial rites the following days, tasks that only kept bringing back memories of the last moments of Orda’s life.
Although each family was genuinely thankful for his services, Rongar felt like a mere shell. During the invasion, he had been unable to contain any of the rampaging fire elementals. He had been unable to protect his city, unable to protect his wife.
The shaman felt numb, and for the first time completely alone.
As he was going through the motions of guiding the spirits of fallen warriors, workers and children to their next lives, Rongar kept his apprehensions to himself. He could not add his own worries to the heavy burden the survivors already had to bear.
If the elements had indeed become corrupted, there were far greater dangers ahead than the fire that just destroyed the city.
