((Credit where credit is due: this is not my story. It was presented last weekend by Mitsuhido of The Broken House during their storytelling event at Thunderbluff - which, by the way, is at 7:00 pm every Sunday.
I am taking some liberties in retelling his tale, mostly because I forgot some of the details, or they wouldn't fit Rongar's voice as the narrator.
The reasons I am using this story is:
- It is a perfect fit with my assignment.
- Knowing the story, I now cannot think of anything just as good for the topic.
- Edit (remembered his name): hoping to give some credit to Mitsushido for his writing, and do a plug for the event his guild is hosting. So check it out!
Here it is, in my words, his story.))
Our orders had been simple: clear out the alliance settlement.
For the past few weeks, the human forces had use the village at the west end of Dustwallow Marsh to stage raids into Southern Barrens. Their pressure had increased significantly, and our local warlord was afraid that the Horde might lose control of that region.
One morning right at dawn, we moved ahead with our plan. The villagers had not prepared for an attack. Our fierce warriors fought hard, and by the afternoon the town was taken. Our troops set fire to the fortifications and many of the buildings. By nightfall, we returned victorious to Camp Taurajo.
That should have been the end of it. Yet that night, a thought came to me: what if there were any artifacts left that could gives us some clues about our enemy? Some weapons maybe, or if we were lucky, some maps and plans.
The next day I left early to return to the ruined of the village. Rummaging through the ashes and debris, I saw many grizzly sights. Near the center of the village, I spotted a body who, by the looks of it, appeared to have been the leader of the villagers. Around his neck was a blood-stained medallion. More out of curiosity than anything else, I removed it and slid it into my backpack.
The rest of the village held nothing of value. Our troops had done a good job when setting the fires. If there had indeed been any plans or documents of strategic importance, they had all been destroyed.
As I turned to leave, I felt something hitting my leg. Again. And again.
I looked down. Before me stood a young girl, maybe all of five years old, with a small branch in her hand and a fierce and determined look on her face. Ash covered her arms and her face. She must have been crying, because tears had washed little tracks from her eyes down her cheeks. But she wasn't crying now. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought she was planning to attack me.
Then she hit me again.
Whatever the reason - maybe she thought herself the last man standing to defend her village - that girl had decided to pick a fight with a fully grown orc.
I didn't know what to do. Killing that girl would not bring honor. Killing a child, even the child of a mortal enemy, was a senseless and cowardly act. Instead of confronting her, I simply turned and walked away.
Bang!
Something hard had hit the back of my helmet.
Bang! Bang!
I turned around. Seeing that her stick had no effect, the girl must have decided to pick up some rocks and hurl them at me. Staring her down, I noticed she had one stone in each hand, ready to throw. This was getting to be too much. I hollered at her to run off, but I am sure she did not understand a word I said. Still, I hoped that my voice would scare her enough to just leave me alone. For a moment it seemed to have worked. She stood there frozen, unsure of what to do. Then that determined look returned to her face, and she threw another rock. That time it hit me square on the forehead.
My patience had run out. With a few quick steps, I closed the gap between us, and picked her up. Although she now did look genuinely frightened, she still tried to kick me in the face.
Then I noticed something. Her hands seemed to be reaching for my backpack. And then I knew. She must have seen me take the medallion, and she wanted it back. Maybe the slain soldier was her father. I lowered the girl to the ground, and pulled the item from by bag. Her hand shot forward, and snatched the medallion from my fingers. Then she turned and ran.
I did not bother following her. I knew there were other human settlement nearby. She would find shelter there.
((Thanks again to Mitsuhido of The Broken House. I hope he doesn't mind that I took so much of his story.))
Edited by Rongar on 4/17/2011 5:25 PM PDT
