An Unfortunate Surname
Sasha Wrynn could hardly believe that nothing had 'happened' that previous evening, she was either very undesirable or very fortunate. She was not sure which. Her confidence though was bolstered, it appeared she had a fierce protector who did not molest her, even if he was not the worg of her dreams.
In the next few days, Sasha began to plan her escape. The camp was now brimming with marauders, and she sensed the attack was imminent. With Taz'jani later confirming that fact. She spent her time watching the troop movements, tallying numbers of soldiers, ballistas, and strategic weapons, and making a mental note of anything the militia of Lakeshire would find useful. She watched the guards that patrolled the camp, and like a good hunter she knew what their habits were. Who was vigilant, and who slept at their post. With all this information Sasha had decided that tomorrow would be the day she made her escape.
*****
Early the next morning Sasha peered out of the tent to see what the disturbance was that had so rudely awoken her. She was met with a terrible vision. The head of a Stormwind guard still wearing his helmet, being raised on a pike in the center of the encampment. The orcs were crowding about the unfortunate man who was now little more than a bloody trophy, growling with unbridled battle lust. Slapping their weapons on their broad thighs, and screaming their bloodcurdling howls to the heavens.
She wondered at his fate, was he an emissary? Or had he simply been caught out? She prayed he had died quickly. She had to escape today, but the sight of the unfortunate man brought her new fear. This was no game. She had so far been fortunate, but how long could she remain so? A rush of nausea accompanied by fear gripped her.
She was about to go back into the tent when she caught sight of Gorthan coming towards her. His stride and expression looked purposeful, gold-eyed stare locked onto her. His long black mane caught by the wind.
She had to look right up as he stood tall above her, he was a good two feet higher than she was, and she had discovered in recent days that orcs did have distinct expressions. They were hardly the empty and dim-witted creatures that many in Stormwind claimed them to be, including her Uncle and Father. His look though did not fill her with a sense of comfort.
"Come..." Was all he said rather sternly pulling her into the privacy of the tent.
She wondered what troubled him, and somehow felt she might be the center of it. She once again felt fear. She really wished she knew where she stood with these savage, changeable beings.
Once inside he turned to her and revealed to her a piece of crumpled paper he had balled in his gigantic fist.
Sasha tugged the crumpled sheet of paper to flatness, and to her horror, her own sketched likeness stared back at her in stark black and white.
'MISSING SASHA WRYNN'
'Reward for her safe return.'
"You?" He said pointing a great finger at her chest.
"Where did you get this!" Sasha replied way too fast. So fast in fact she was not even sure if he had understood what she had said, but none of that mattered.
"The King is Wrynn, you Wrynn." He accused.
Sasha took a deep breath and closed her eyes willing herself to be calm. She could not let this get out of hand, she had to make him understand!
"Okay, yes I am a Wrynn, but I'm not Royal. King Wrynn is not my kin, my blood, he is NOT my Father. We just share..."
"Girls not important to King. King not speak of you, that is all."
"No, no, no, it's not like that. I am not blood to him! Please understand me!
The orc frowned, yes she could see his various expressions now, it was strange but she had never credited his kind with emotions before. He looked at her disappointed as he repossessed the notice.
"I am just a warrior, I must tell the chief." With that announcement he grabbed Sasha and bound her hand and foot, laying her gently on his furs.
"No Gorthan don't do this," she pleaded. "I really, really, have no ties with the King. You must believe me!"
Gorthan looked at her with resignation, or was that orcish sadness?
*****
She had been bundled over an unknown orc's shoulder and carted in that position all the way to Stonewatch. Even though it was far, she guessed she was so light that she was little impediment to the huge, charcoal-skinned male that carried her aloft. She had gone from the precipice of an escape to being in terrible trouble, all because of one small piece of paper, and she had not caught sight of Gorthan anywhere.
There were ten orcs in this escort, all unknown to her. Sasha assumed they were bringing her to their warlord along with any intelligence they had gleaned from the unfortunate soldier. She guessed if she hadn't already she was about to meet Gath'llzogg.
The stone fortress crowned the tops of the red cliffs. It had been a militia base once, but it had been overrun. The Blackrock subsequently made it their own, and it seemed impossible for the humans who lived in the valley below to dislodge them. It was a very good defensive position.
The escort climbed the steep stone steps until they reached a great stone chamber on the upper floor. It was windowless, designed to be a secure position, and the ironbound torches that thrust out from the walls were the only light in the dim, austere chamber. There was a large, crude wood table spread with maps, and a tight knot of orcs was around it pointing at positions.
Sasha was deposited on the floor, and all but two of the escorts departed, leaving her to wait. She noticed Gorthan then, and on seeing him she felt a little less afraid. Perhaps he would explain this to them after all, and she would be allowed to leave?
He was among his fellows she assumed talking strategy. He looked across at her but briefly and resumed his guttural orcish conversation with the group of very fearsome savages who crowded close. They were adorned in hardened leather and steel armor, skulls, spikes, and teeth.
Finally, one of the orcs looked at her. Sasha's eyes darted immediately to the floor. He too was a big orc, broad and strong, his flesh the shade of fire pit ash, he had a heavy-shouldered stoop like many of his kind, and he looked burdened by his huge iron pauldrons and plate cuirass. The armor was rent and dented, being both plain and serviceable, it was obvious he had seen many battles. This she assumed had to be Gath'llzogg.
He was a mature orc. He had receding long hair the shade of midnight, eyes of mahogany, bloodshot with red. His beard was long and plaited and it hung to his navel. He clutched a notched sword of the Stormwind military in his chain mail gloved fist. A poignant reminder to Sasha of the gravity of her situation.
The armored orc spoke to Gorthan, he was waving the tip of his sword animatedly, all too closely to Sasha's face. The young woman sensed that her luck was not about to change. They spoke for a long time. Gorthan would intermittently look across and catch Sasha's eye, but the looks he gave her did little to reassure her.
Just as suddenly as they had been interested in her they walked away, back to the table and the maps and plans. So they do read? She would never have believed it to be true!
Sasha Wrynn sat on the cold flagstones for a long time forgotten. She had gone inward dreaming of other things, brighter days and better times. She was pulled from her reverie by Gorthan's huge hands pulling her up from her place gently. He may have looked fierce but he handled her like she was precious china, this gave her heart.
"Come."
