Dust and Blood

I didn't want this.

A lot of my brother and sister orcs did, once we had been freed from the camps. Thrall had brought it back, the Shaman's ways. Many orcs wanted to follow in the new Warchief's footsteps. Not a bad thing, to admire your leaders. I admit he made an impression on all of us, breaking us from the stupor, showing us we could go back even after all we had done. That even here, on a world not our own, the Spirits would still speak to the Orcs.

Not a bad thing to want.

I didn't. I had hoped, perhaps, to farm. Maybe to raise boars. I have had enough of war, I thought. Enough battle, enough blood for Stex. I still enjoyed the hunt, still enjoyed a good clean fight, but war? War is none of those things. Change is none of those things.

Farming hadn't been going well, but I am stubborn. The water hole I had fashioned was flawed and had run dry again. I was tired and had been carrying water from the river for hours to water what small crops I could manage in Durotaur's harsh climate. I had a deal with a near-by swine herd for a few of his next litter in exchange for this crop. It meant eating light for the winter season this year, but I was young and it would not be difficult.

As I sloshed the last bucket down the rows of life, clawing towards the sun with leaves just on the verge of being in sore shape, I sat at the edge of the watering hole with a sigh. I was tired, and my muscles ached under my skin with the slow burn of long labour, but I would need to repair the flaws soon. I couldn't haul enough water for a farm of pigs on the shoulders of one orc.
I stood, and bent with a glare at the stones beneath my feet. They had fitted so well together, I though. I didn't think there was enough space, enough gap to cause an issue with catching the rains, and so I looked.

There! A smile broke across my face, and I walked proudly to the offending stone. A big one, I had chosen it to be my starting stone, in the very center of the deep bowl I had dug out for the rain. It had fractured, broken completely in two and pulled up the stones around it. Why, I don't know, but I had found the problem and could solve it. With a tired sigh I leaned down to grasp the offending stone and hurl it away.

As my fingers curled to grip the sides, my thumb slipped through the dust gathered on the surface and along the jagged broken edge of the slate. I yelled, and then looked around to see if I had been heard. Of course I hadn't, no one was likely to be near my solitary home at this time of day, but an orc did not cry out over such things!

Sighing, I glanced at the sluggish leak of red down the side of my thumb, and then at the weight of the sun in the sky. Forget the water hole for today, I was tired and now cut. Tonight, rest, tomorrow I would mend. Walking back to my hut, I wiped my hand across my brow without thinking, leaving a line of blood and dust across the tops of my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose. I ignored it. I was to tired and it was to late to walk to the river over dust and blood.




Dreams came that night. I had dreamed before, the simple dreams. Flight, successful hunts, the dreams of the young. This was not the same and I knew. I stood in a field, tall grasses blowing at my legs. I could feel earth beneath my feet, and sun on my back though there was no sky. I thought this should have frightened me but I was not. I thought I could hear drums, and so I followed the sound.

What I had heard was not drums at all I found, as I parted the grass with my steps and saw down, over a gully. There was a circle of huts and within them a circle of orcs around a fire. There was talking and laughter and what I had thought were drums. It was feet. Orcs were dancing, their size pounding the ground around the bonfire. Eight, maybe ten, their feet seeming to know when to land to produce this beat. A smile split my lips, as this was good. Happy Orcs, enjoying old culture.

A hush fell over the group suddenly as I crouched to watch more closely. Had they seen me? Had something I couldn't see happened beyond the fire?

My answer did come from behind the fire. A woman came then, adorned in bones and furs. She was older, not aged but late in her prime. Her form was strong and their was a weight about her presence. Under the headdress of fur she wore, some beast I could not name, her eyes were clear and looked directly across the fire to mine. I could not move nor could I breathe, her gaze held me a surely as any chains. She pointed one finger at me, an armband of leather, bone and feather around her wrist. I could see scrawled over her bare skin many tattoos, though I could not name the shapes. She spoke to me, though I do not remember what was said. Her hand opened, cast something into the fire, and it burst into a great light that forced me to turn away.

I woke then, still not able to remember any words spoken by the strange woman. I remembered only one thing when I woke from that strange dream. Across the woman's face had been a line, from cheek to cheek and over her nose. A line of Dust and Blood.