A Bull Returns

[ryno2 1285]

 

 

Still. Quiet. Tranquil. Peaceful. 

Thoughts meandered through the ancient Orc's head as he pondered the meaning of these words, having spent half an age surrounding himself with their essence. How many decades had he distanced himself from the Uzg and their going-ons? How long since he donned the red loincloth and dedicated himself to Setherian? Since being a Juggernaut of the Harbingers? 

His thoughts drifted further, into the mythic days of late Aegis, the Verge, and Asulon. Days in his youth when he did much the same as he did presently, though in place of empty hands a fishing pole lay, the rippling water reflecting his visage moving him into ever-deeper meditation. 

In this dream the bobber submerged, slowly pulling the fisherman further off his perch, closer to the silent lake's surface. He looked into his own eyes, a brief moment passed; then a shaved head surfaced, pulled up by the rod's hook. Its head twisted around, and bright yellow eyes set in a black skull pierced the Orc's gaze with a flash-

He heard something. Lazily waking from his rest, he made for his cavern home's entrance, peering out but seeing nothing but dull desert. A beast's cries reached his ear, filling him for a brief moment with curiosity before the desert became but a dull hum, and then, silent once more. 

Looking back down on his hovel, he decided the time for rest and meditation had passed. After a century of exile, he would return.

 

He would take the yellow cloth. 

He would become the bull. 




 

[Travista 1361]

"Throm'ka, throm'ka," Shreck'Lak would mutter upon learning of such a return, eager to see his ally grow in power against their incursion.

[_pok_ 1768]

Drokon, the young grandson of Pok'Ugluk, wanders up to the old bull. His eyes widen at the appearence, a sort of grinning cracking across his face. "Mi hav 'eard ztoriez ub lat frum mi popo. Welkum 'ome, bruddah."

[Nurzum?]