A continuation of the previous story "Brothers in Arms"
The early afternoon was spent checking on the wounded in the barracks at Mor'shan Rampart. In conversation, Rongar got the impression that the fighting had recently picked up in intensity. Eastern Ashenvale had become a significant logging area for the Horde, driven by the reconstruction of Orgrimmar. Naturally, the Night Elves fought this encroachment in their territory.
All of the injuries he observed were non-life threatening wounds. With some rest to eliminate the possibility of infections, all of fighters should be back in action in a day or two. Rongar was pleased. Any concerns Warlord Gro’mar may have had could easily be laid to rest.
As Rongar turned to give his status report, a bloodied orc archers stumbled into the barracks. "Elder Rongar - please come. My friend just got hit by an arrow. He needs help bad."
* * * * *
Leaving the fortified area of Mor'shan Rampart, Rongar could immediately feel the looming threat all around him. The Horde outpost was practically surrounded. Pressure was intense; the shaman was on high alert. The archer ducked low and waved Rongar on. After a short sprint with numerous arrows barely missing them, the two orcs reached the wounded warrior.
Rongar quickly surveyed the situation: an arrow had penetrated the leather armor and was lodged deep into the orc's ribs. Blood kept seeping out by the entry point; the injury was quite severe. Then Rongar froze.
The injured soldier was Dak'ar.
Rongar tried his best not to look the wounded marksman in the eye. "I'll get him stabilized, but then we need to get him out of here." The archer who had brought Rongar here looked over at the shaman. "Can you heal him?"
"It's not that simple. Some wounds are too severe even for a shaman to heal."
Dak'ar made a gurgling sound and coughed. A few drops of blood appeared in the corner of his mouth.
"I think he's dying."
"Nobody's dying here, " gruffed Rongar as he reached into his bag for ointment and several heavy bandages. He did not dare remove the arrow, fearing that it might further rip the lungs. Rongar carefully applied some ointment to the wound. "Lift him up a little so I can wrap these bandages around his chest.
The archer looked at the shaman coldly, but did as he was asked.
Rongar felt more arrows glancing off his shield. He know the three orcs were sitting ducks. The shaman worked fast. Dak'ar began to shake, then coughed up a mouthful of blood. His eyes rolled towards the back of his head.
"We're losing him!"
"Tell me something I don't know," snarled Rongar. He reached for Dak'ar's chest and began to concentrate, calling upon the elemental to come to his aid. He could feel the palms of his hands grow intensely warm. This wasn't right. The response from the elements to his call felt very chaotic. Rongar let go.
The archer looked at the shaman, "Something wrong?"
"We've got to get him out of here. Now!" Rongar lifted Dak'ar's torso. "Grab his legs, let's go", he growled.
The next two minutes felt like the longest two minutes of Rongar's life. As they were fighting their way back to Mor'shan Rampart, the shaman felt Dak'ar's life slowly slipping away. By the time they reached the barracks, he knew it was too late. The other orc knew it too. As they laid Dak'ar's body on the ground, the orc looked at the shaman with dismay and disgust.
The early afternoon was spent checking on the wounded in the barracks at Mor'shan Rampart. In conversation, Rongar got the impression that the fighting had recently picked up in intensity. Eastern Ashenvale had become a significant logging area for the Horde, driven by the reconstruction of Orgrimmar. Naturally, the Night Elves fought this encroachment in their territory.
All of the injuries he observed were non-life threatening wounds. With some rest to eliminate the possibility of infections, all of fighters should be back in action in a day or two. Rongar was pleased. Any concerns Warlord Gro’mar may have had could easily be laid to rest.
As Rongar turned to give his status report, a bloodied orc archers stumbled into the barracks. "Elder Rongar - please come. My friend just got hit by an arrow. He needs help bad."
* * * * *
Leaving the fortified area of Mor'shan Rampart, Rongar could immediately feel the looming threat all around him. The Horde outpost was practically surrounded. Pressure was intense; the shaman was on high alert. The archer ducked low and waved Rongar on. After a short sprint with numerous arrows barely missing them, the two orcs reached the wounded warrior.
Rongar quickly surveyed the situation: an arrow had penetrated the leather armor and was lodged deep into the orc's ribs. Blood kept seeping out by the entry point; the injury was quite severe. Then Rongar froze.
The injured soldier was Dak'ar.
Rongar tried his best not to look the wounded marksman in the eye. "I'll get him stabilized, but then we need to get him out of here." The archer who had brought Rongar here looked over at the shaman. "Can you heal him?"
"It's not that simple. Some wounds are too severe even for a shaman to heal."
Dak'ar made a gurgling sound and coughed. A few drops of blood appeared in the corner of his mouth.
"I think he's dying."
"Nobody's dying here, " gruffed Rongar as he reached into his bag for ointment and several heavy bandages. He did not dare remove the arrow, fearing that it might further rip the lungs. Rongar carefully applied some ointment to the wound. "Lift him up a little so I can wrap these bandages around his chest.
The archer looked at the shaman coldly, but did as he was asked.
Rongar felt more arrows glancing off his shield. He know the three orcs were sitting ducks. The shaman worked fast. Dak'ar began to shake, then coughed up a mouthful of blood. His eyes rolled towards the back of his head.
"We're losing him!"
"Tell me something I don't know," snarled Rongar. He reached for Dak'ar's chest and began to concentrate, calling upon the elemental to come to his aid. He could feel the palms of his hands grow intensely warm. This wasn't right. The response from the elements to his call felt very chaotic. Rongar let go.
The archer looked at the shaman, "Something wrong?"
"We've got to get him out of here. Now!" Rongar lifted Dak'ar's torso. "Grab his legs, let's go", he growled.
The next two minutes felt like the longest two minutes of Rongar's life. As they were fighting their way back to Mor'shan Rampart, the shaman felt Dak'ar's life slowly slipping away. By the time they reached the barracks, he knew it was too late. The other orc knew it too. As they laid Dak'ar's body on the ground, the orc looked at the shaman with dismay and disgust.
