Skallagar

Force of Nature

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTKxGhf2Yyw

It burned as it went down, a molten shot that threatened to melt the icy blood in his veins. A drop spilled and shot like a bullet through the snow below. Sulfuron Slammer...a friend of his once remarked after drinking it he felt like it burned the hair off of his back. Yusegar chuckled. If that were true, his mohawk should be on fire by now. He pondered how that would look awhile. Nah. Not practical.

The sun was sinking below the horizon in the distance. It would get unbearably cold soon, it was freezing this high up in the Crystal Peaks at the best of times, but he didn't care. This had to be done, as it had last year, and the year back as far as he could remember. It was something he had picked up from his family, before he'd been left to fend for himself.

And so, unusually solemn, he lifted his torch and walked to the mess of banners spread out before him. He looked them over. Lorderon. Stormwind. Darnassus. Burning Legion. Undercity. Banners of Draenei and Tauren make. Banners of Naga, Murloc, Dragonflights. Banners of Trolls, Tauren, and even Orcish clans. He had killed warriors from every one of their people. If it fought with tooth, sword, or spell, he had killed it or something similar. Slowly, he set each banner in the forest of them alight.

He's seen something similar done by others on the date of their birth. Lighting a candle for every year of their life. Yusegar didn't know how many years he had lived, and so he was content to burn a flag for every race, creed, or nation that had tried to kill him. He paused before the last one, a Frostwolf flag, but set it alight as well. Then he tossed the torch aside and drew a rough obsidian dagger. Slowly, he dragged the razor edge across the skin of his palm. He made a fist and, above each banner, clenched that fist to force some blood to drip into the blaze. Whether it was supposed to be an offering to those slain, or a taste of the blood they'd so wanted to taunt them, he never knew. He'd been very young when he saw it performed, before he'd wandered away from those lands, never to find them again.

A branch snapped behind him, and Yusegar spun. He could not make them out in the gloom. He smelled death. His axe was propped up against a tree a few meters away...

"Quite a collection."

Yusegar took a grenade from his belt. It wouldn't stop all of them, but his Gyrocopter was nearby...

"Enjoy your swim, Mundzuk?"

Yusegar's former mentor among the Death Knights was about to answer, but was cut off. The grenade flew through the air, and Yusegar darted towards his axe. The explosion knocked everyone off their feet, and caused a rumbling in the distance.

When the other death knights got back to their feet, and armed Yusegar stood before them. The setting sun was behind him, the last ruddy rays of light giving him a bloody halo. Even the Lich King's elite paused, but urged on by Mundzuk, they attacked. It was fierce fighting, and nobody noticed that the earth seemed to rumble in approval of the bloodshed.

Yusegar and Mundzuk met, head to head. In their last fight, Yusegar had been sorely outmatched. No longer. He had been confused the last time, as if waking from a terrible dream. Now he fought like a force of nature. These curs would not see him fall this day. He was Yusegar, damn it!

A rolling chunk of ice wiped a great swathe of Undead clear off the mountain. All paused, when another came. Slowly at first, then flowing like a tide, they fled. All but Mundzuk and Yusegar.

"Great army you've got there," Yusegar spat. He moved to attack, but an unseen Ghoul pounced on him. He felt the cloak rip from his back.

"Pride before the fall. Brother."

By the time Yusegar threw the Ghoul off, it was too late. Mundzuk sprinted for the cliffs edge and leapt off. The parachute cloak deployed, and Mudzuk floated safely out of sight, into the darkness.

The rumbling grew louder. Yusegar turned to see a tidal wave of snow racing towards him. He spat on one of the many nearby bodies. He'd show them how to die.

The rumbling avalanche was met with Yusegar's roar, it's crushing advance met with Yusegar's own charge. Defiant to the last, the Orc was overcome.

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((You see? You see all the hearts you break with your leaving?

Focus on your shit's dawg. We'll still be here when you get back.

*Lights a gnome on fire, just for Yusegarr.*))

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPA8Malchkk

Snow drifted down slowly, almost floating in the wind like feathers. All was silent once again. Darkness reigned over all. Scattered fires, corpses, and bits of gyrocopter parts left the footprint of the violence earlier in the day. Whether by chance of fate, Yusegar's hearthstone had sat in a bag on his gyrocopter, which now hung from the higher branches of a mighty pine tree. It was all anybody would find of the Orc, without digging deep into the snow.

Below, Yusegar laughed. The cracked ribs shot flaming agony in protest. He couldn't believe it. He was alive! A mountain had given its best shot, right at his face, and here he was. Still...now what? It was deep winter. The spring thaw would be his only chance of getting out. He couldn't move, couldn't contact anybody. He wouldn't lie down, though. He had to rip his soul back from Arthas. He had an oath to his friends...no, his family in the Cross to keep. He would be back. Death would have to dig it's way down here and rip the life right out of him if it wanted this Orc.

Well. Bears slept for the winter. Why couldn't he? Still chuckling, he closed his eyes.

A minute later they shot open.

ScreenShot_120209_211800.jpg

How was he supposed to get beer?!

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