Ambassadors - A novel based on Warcraft

Chapter 01 - Bloodshed

The colossal orc laid on the ground, bleeding and gasping as his final sparks of life faded away. There was still fury in his eyes, though. A fury that couldn't be quenched, not even by his death. It was a shame; no one should die that way.

Dunris removed his axe from the body and kneeled down before his defeated opponent. Sadly, he knew how the blood fury that cursed his kin felt like; it wasn't like the shamanic bloodlust he called forth to empower his allies. No, this other rage came from within, from the darkest bottoms of the orcish heart. Dunris hated it, all of it... mostly because he hated the fact that it felt so releasing. It was pleasantly intoxicating, and at the same time, it was poisonous. He slipped his fingers through the fallen orc's eyelids, giving the dead Warrior the peace he needed for his eternal rest.

"You fought with honor. Now go to meet your ancestors", he whispered, as he felt an enormous weight fall on his shoulders. He knew what said weight was, and it grieved his heart: this fallen combatant, Dunris knew him well; Ranuk was his name, and they had worked together during the foundation of Orgrimmar and many times more.

"More Loyalists", Naurosh grunted at his back, wiping the blood out of the spear he used to both fight and hunt. "After being to Draenor and Argus, there are warriors still loyal to Garrosh's ideals."

"Garrosh's ideals. Bah, these mongrels are hot-headed fanatics", Korghan clamored, almost spitting his words. "They have nothing to do with the former Warchief's beliefs", he added. Even though the three brothers despised Garrosh's actions, they held some respect for Hellscream as a Warrior and a leader after all. "Did you hear them? True orcs fight for the greatest army there is. They mix Garrosh and Gul'dan's words. They sicken me."

"Well now, that's not entirely true", Naurosh said, punching his brother's shoulder. "You can't even possibly get sick if you are already dead."

"Funny. So funny. Want to see how it feels like to die?", Korghan asked with his deathly voice.

"Oh, no, no. One Death Knight in the family is more than enough", the eldest brother laughed; Korghan smiled and his face relaxed. It was impossible to resist Naurosh's warm and loud laughter. "Are you ok there, little brother?", he asked, looking at Dunris.

When there was no one around, the Hunter always addressed his siblings with affective nicknames; of course, sentiment wasn't common among orcs. It began as a mockery, but it quickly became a habit. Naurosh insisted Dunris would always be his little brother, while Korghan was his baby brother. At first, the youngest hated it, but then he got used to it. On the other hand, Dunris liked it, for it was a special bond they shared. He had spent so much time of his life without his family, and he wasn't going to complain about a silly nickname.

Unlike his siblings, the Shaman had grown up as a prisoner within an Internment Camp. As a child, a group of humans had raided his home, killing his father, Tork, and capturing him and his mother, Otka. Many years later, Warchief Thrall had rallied the Horde to rescue every enslaved orc, and the brothers were finally reunited. However, their mother had perished during the assault before she could be rescued. When the guards of Lordamere Internment Camp saw the Horde was coming, they began executing the prisoners before they could be released. Otka had died a Warrior's death, protecting Dunris from harm.