Rivalry of the Stick, Part 4

Kash'gor poked the campfire he had made with a stick, it was a stick made for poking the fire, not one to be chewed on. His eyes were on the flame, but it still seemed as they saw everything around. It had been a long day, and he was tired, but his eyes seldom blinked. The Vanguard had traveled a great distance, they had fought their way through the swampy wetlands, armies of dwarfs, and everything which was thrown against them.

Kash'gor had not been using an axe at all, he had lost it under an alliance ambush some days earlier. He was assigned to carry an important crate for their mission. Therok had joined up with the grunts at the boarder of the Wetlands, he had the green crate. The green crate was important, somehow. Kash'gor was glad that Therok had seen his letter (it was more a drawing than a letter), which told Therok to bring the crate. The Mok'thak of the Doomhammer's Wrath section of the Vanguard gave the crate to Kash'gor, letting him carry two crates at the same time, one yellow, one green.

Now they were at the dam, their camp for the night. They had killed the guards there, and disposed of their corpses. It had been a long day, and the grunts were all happy to find a place to rest.

Kash'gor looked at the crates near the fire. The green one had been hit by an axe, while the yellow one had a slight crack from an dwarven warhammer. He knew what both contained, the green one contained some dried meat. This would be the food for the grunts, those who followed him to take the stick back at least. No one else knew anything about the green crate, only him, Therok and now Reiya. The yellow one contained something else, water-elemental cores. Kash'gor only knew them as “Chewy-cores” as they were to hold them at their mouth to be able to take breaths deep down in Blackrock mountain. There were ten of them. Kash'gor had been told by Mok'thak Tazkram that the crate was more important than his life, and so Kash'gor had protected the crate with all his might. Kash looked at an orc sleeping nearby, it was Therok, the Mok'thak of Doomhammer's Wrath. But Kash knew him as something else, for him he was the “Chewer”, which was the name Kash had given him to use when they were trying to take the stick back. Somewhere nearby was another figure, this orc was Reiya. Kash knew her as the “Taker”, she had newly been informed about the details of the plan, and had gladly accepted this honourable title. Kash'gor's eyes went to the other grunts in the Doomhammer section, Rageblood was not there. Rageblood was sleeping near the Lok'tarmak wolves campfire, further in on the dam. Those cursed Lok'tarmak whelps had taken most of the dam for themselves, but Kash'gor had claimed a table in the name of Doomhammer. The area near the table was now their camp for the night.

His eyes were no longer on any of the grunts, Kash was now watching towards where Mok'thak Tazkram was sleeping. The Mok'thak had said that the stick was in Orgrimmar, but Kash could sense it, he knew that Tazkram had the stick with him. His eyes were burning with hatred, he could soon no longer contain the rage and hate he felt for the Mok'thak Legionnaire. Kash'gor stared at the sleeping figure near the other table on the dam. Kash could not see much, but he could feel it. He just knew that the Legionnaire was chewing on the stick right now. He felt his blood rushing, his head started to hurt, and his hands were shaking. Taking a deep breath, Kash'gor looked at the fire again. He felt like the burning fire was comforting him. He could channel all his rage, all his hatred into it, and it would burn away. He liked fires, they made him feel safe, they made him calm...

It had been a few hours, Kash'gor could tell. He once again looked at the sleeping figure of Therok, it was soon time. With a yawn, Kash moved towards Therok, “Chewer of the stick” and Mok'thak of Doomhammer's Wrath. Patting on Therok's shoulder to wake him up, Kash whispered “It's your shift”. Kash went to lie down, but before he could do so, he turned to Therok again, who were now standing. “For the stick.” Therok said with a salute, a sign of respect among equals. “For the stick.” Kash'gor replied with a salute on his own “Tomorrow we will strike, the stick will be ours. Be ready Chewer, it will be a long day.” Without another word, Kash went to bed, sleep didn't come easily as he was thinking of Tazkram chewing on the stick. When sleep finally came, he dreamt. In the dream, the three grunts stood on the top of a giant mound. They were surrounded by cheering orcs. The orc standing in the middle, on the highest peak of the mound raised his hand in the air. And in that hand, he held the stick. That orc was the “Keeper”, that orc, was Kash'gor.

Therok poked the campfire with a stick, the one made for poking fires with. His eyes were looking at the fire, but seemed to see everything around him.....