Journey Into Mystery: Deliverance

[SpookyLean 880]

 

 

Journey Into Mystery: Deliverance

 

With the siege of Mt. Augustus repelled the Azogs march to Mirtok DeNurem’s base of operations. Having heard rumors of his return, the aged Maur’Azog couldn’t wait to see his old friend again and had detached with a few select Uruks from the main war band for this detour.

 

“Welcome back, brother.”

 

“Mirtok DeNurem,” Smiled the robed figure as he approached his old friend. Long has it been since he’s seen that face. “You look intact.” He lowered his hood to reveal his warped face. His eyes now fully purple in the whites and his nose sunken into his skull. Tusk stabbing into the flesh of his face.

 

“The same can be done for you. Remove that foul taint that burdens your soul. You Azogs have done much for me. The least I can do for you, friend.”

 

“I thank you, DeNurem, but these are mine to carry for the journey is about to begin to the promised lands. This is the moment we’ve both known was coming..”

 

“You mean you’re not staying?”

 

“Yub... To see the face of my friend and thank him for everything he has given me. I know you’re not one for goodbyes either.” he dryly chuckles, pulling out a piece of ink. Mushing the index on his palm onto his index finger.

 

“You had no reason to take in my brothers under your protection when they were shunned by their race. Yet you found it in your heart to call them your own and fight alongside them in the trenches of every battle we’ve fought together. And from there we found the meaning of community and family. There we found purpose and fate in a GOD. For we are cursed children of this GOD but under my guidance I will lead them to redemption in the eyes of this GOD which we call the spirits. This gave me meaning when I died in the nether. And for this, I bestow upon you three gifts in representation of the three Azogs you took in but first.”

 

“Mirtok DeNurem, I hereby bestow the honor of the name of Azog. Absolved of all past titles men have stained your name with hopes to diminish your accomplishments as they have done to our people in the past. Granting you the blessing of the spirits who had pushed us to glory and have destined your family to be reunited again. Rivaling only the Azogs in strength.” He raised his index finger, drawing a black cross upon the Hochmeister’s face.

 

The Orc looked down upon his friend, allowing the memories of their journey that has led to this very moment slip down his cheek. A silent tear rolled down the face of the withering Orc’s alligator skin. Yet the Hochmesiter remained resilient throughout all of this, showing no emotion as the Orc has. Though Maur’Azog knew by his silence, that he was afraid of showing the emotion that had hurt him in the past. But his silence spoke volumes to the Orc. This wasn’t an easy goodbye for the both of them. “This is the last time I see you, brother. Thank you for taking a chance on us.”

 

Maur’Azog gestures for three Orcs of his war band to bring forth a large ornate gold casket. “As for our three gifts.” The three Orcs moved and pulled a casket from the pile of loot the Orcish warband carried. A large golden warhammer in the center with locations of the DeNurems offsprings entrusted in the care of the Azogs when Castle GreyWynn fell. “I cared for them as if they were my own. Letting them go was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Their place is alongside humans though and I found them respected quiet families to give them that. Find them and give them the same chance you gave us when you found us. Farewell, friend.”

 

The Great Fire of Helena

About 300 Years later...

 

...
Thud!
...
Thud!
...
GASP
…

 

The child gasps for air, coughing out the smoke he’s inhaled in his sleep, “Mother I’m stuck help me!” he cried towards the doorway of his bedroom. Only to be met with no response but the crackling of the house coming nearer to collapsing on the young boy.

 

Slowly his vision faded into darkness, only hearing a voice to the side. “Come, son. The other two await you. Virgil.” A man spoke from his window sill, features obscured by the shadow his figure casted into the room with the sun’s ray shining brightly behind him. Slowly  he approached him; the orc from his dream he thought! Though without much choice he allowed himself to be taken by him up from the bed. 

 

‘Other two? What? This is just a bad dream....’

 

‘Fate.’ Responded the man.

 

How did he know his name, this couldn’t just be a coincidence, he thought. Though as the figure carried him out of danger he found that his mind wasn’t on the vivid dream he had just experienced or the that his home was burning down.. It was on how this mad man with a thick beard was smoking a cigar through the black smoke of the burning house.

[Bawg 494]

4 hours ago, Maur said:

And from there we found the meaning of community and family.