((A continuation of “Call of Duty”, http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/2369876973))
With supplies running low, Rongar had to resort to the auction house to get enough bandages and ointments to feel adequately prepared.
The goblin that processed his payment had grinned broadly at Rongar, exposing an entire row of pointy, yellow teeth. “Pleasure doing business with ya”, the small merchant had muttered while counting his money. “For the Horde.”
The memory of that cloying creature still hung in Rongar’s mind as he rode into Crossroads. The old outpost was an odd blend of Tauren and orcish building styles. It had become indispensable as a strategic anchor for the Horde in Northern Barrens. Not on the frontlines of the conflict with the Alliance, Crossroads wasn’t heavily fortified. It was mostly used as a place for tired troops to refresh, repair, and head out to their next assignment.
Slowing his riding wolf to a trod, Rongar quickly spotted the peon heading towards him. “Elder Rongar?”
The shaman turned to face the young orc. “Rongar is fine”, he replied. The young warrior nodded profusely in response. “Are you ready to head to Ashenvale, or do you wish to rest for a moment?”
“Might as well keep going. I’m sure we’re needed”, Rongar shrugged. “What’s your name, son?”
“Dak’ar, Elder Rongar. I mean Rongar.” Dak’ar adjusted his armor. “I will ready my mount, and we can be on our way.”
* * *
“It’s about time”, hollered Warlord Gro’mar as he greeted the two new arrivals at Mor'shan Rampart. “You two been taking in the scenery during that leisurely stroll?”
Dak’ar looked mortified. Rongar dismounted, handing Gro’mar the reigns to his dire wolf. “If we took our time, I knew you’d at least be up and dressed. Also, my wolf needs water.”
With that, the shaman walked into the nearest hut to put on his battle armor.
With supplies running low, Rongar had to resort to the auction house to get enough bandages and ointments to feel adequately prepared.
The goblin that processed his payment had grinned broadly at Rongar, exposing an entire row of pointy, yellow teeth. “Pleasure doing business with ya”, the small merchant had muttered while counting his money. “For the Horde.”
The memory of that cloying creature still hung in Rongar’s mind as he rode into Crossroads. The old outpost was an odd blend of Tauren and orcish building styles. It had become indispensable as a strategic anchor for the Horde in Northern Barrens. Not on the frontlines of the conflict with the Alliance, Crossroads wasn’t heavily fortified. It was mostly used as a place for tired troops to refresh, repair, and head out to their next assignment.
Slowing his riding wolf to a trod, Rongar quickly spotted the peon heading towards him. “Elder Rongar?”
The shaman turned to face the young orc. “Rongar is fine”, he replied. The young warrior nodded profusely in response. “Are you ready to head to Ashenvale, or do you wish to rest for a moment?”
“Might as well keep going. I’m sure we’re needed”, Rongar shrugged. “What’s your name, son?”
“Dak’ar, Elder Rongar. I mean Rongar.” Dak’ar adjusted his armor. “I will ready my mount, and we can be on our way.”
* * *
“It’s about time”, hollered Warlord Gro’mar as he greeted the two new arrivals at Mor'shan Rampart. “You two been taking in the scenery during that leisurely stroll?”
Dak’ar looked mortified. Rongar dismounted, handing Gro’mar the reigns to his dire wolf. “If we took our time, I knew you’d at least be up and dressed. Also, my wolf needs water.”
With that, the shaman walked into the nearest hut to put on his battle armor.
