Arise: The Tale of Ol' Mawl

[Mawl]

ONE: AWAKE



He opened his eyes.

He hurt. Everywhere: his back, his waist, his feet, his shoulders, and most of all his head. He remembered nothing. He thought of nothing. What he saw before him was a totally new world. But the world saw the same Orbus.

It was hard opening his eyes at first. His halfbreed daughter took care of him, but in the span of five years it seemed a sort of crust formed his lashes together, requiring a bit of strength to open his muddy green lids.

When the eyes did open, everything was bright, too bright. The atmosphere lost it's shine after a long while, but his pupils were wide, virgins of five years to the light. Things began to form. The leather of a tent around him, the brown straw strung to hold the fastenings together, even his own simple linen wardrobe.

The rather large orc gazed around the room, astonished like a newborn babe. When he heard a quick rustling outside the tent, he began a rustle of his own. The entranceway of the ten swung open, and a painful flash of sunlight beamed in the old orc's eyes. He threw his palms up in front of his beady eyes.

A soft and gentle voice entered his withered ears.

"Father!"

The orc turned his head, confused, dazed, and everything in between. The woman his pupils began to make out was of a bluish green tone, with short tendrils emerging from her chin. The old man knew what she was, but she was outstandingly beautiful for a halforcen. Her hair rose in a black sheen into a ball knot tied valiantly on the top of her head. She rested her hand on him; one warmly on his forehead while the other landed safely on the midst of his chest.

"Father, you've awakened. Oh, how I've longed for this day."

It hit the old orc like tram; he couldn't get any words out. No matter how hard he wanted to respond. It was like having no mouth, and he needed to scream. After a few moments of making mouthing gestures, the old fellow finally got a few jumbled words out.

"W-wh-wh-wh-ooo-who a-ar-are-are-y-you?"

The woman frowned. Something had happened to this orc, he wasn't the same anymore. Out of no where, her frown turned into a sincere smile, albeit small. She was simply grateful that he had finally awoken, alive and well.

"I am Yora, and you are my Father. I know we don't look alike, but it is the truth."

The orc looked away. How could this be his daughter? They looked NOTHING alike, whatsoever. He accepted her truth, though. It was obvious she cared for him while he was asleep for some time. He was grateful for that.

"Y-Y-Yo-ra-Yora, h-how long w-w-w-as I asl-ee-ee-p?"

"Five years, Father. You've been in some sort of trance since the destruction of Draenor. I managed to find your body and get you to safety. I was so scared....I thought you were never to wake..."

The orc laid back down softly, letting his head rest on the bundled straw Yora had comprised as a pillow. When the back of his withered scalp reached the bundle, he shut his eyes for a moment, allowing them rest from the excessive light. His shaking palm rested on hers upon his chest, a soft smile growing on his face.

((*Waits patiently for more, for she has no words.*))

[Mawl]

TWO: ALIVE




The dust of the canyon cracked the skin of his heels like whips.

He was off by himself, now. His daughter had cared for him for two years. But one day, Yora had disappeared. She never returned home. But why? Maybe he was too much of a burden. The orc could barely change his own clothes. So he thought, anyway.

He carried with him a sac of things, everything that was in the tent. He even carried the tent itself, folded up into a neat roll. He had learned through much trial and error how to set his tent up all by himself. It took him about a month to figure it out; at one point he got so fed up with it that he simply used the leather of the tent as a blanket and wrapped up in that, laying on the cold dirt.

He traveled across the Badlands, now. It as always hot, always dark, and always dangerous. Mawl was scared. Beasts roamed every corner and human outposts seemed to peer at him with dark eyes.

He was always sad, too. He didn't fit in with this world at all. Everything hated him, everything tried to hurt him. Even Yora abandoned him. He understood, too. He was stupid. He couldn't think straight, and when he tried, his brain would ache. He couldn't speak without stuttering like a fool. And he always got so angry all the time, for almost no reason at all. But he couldn't help it. He was truly miserable.

Without a warning, the orc yelped. His cracked heel met ends with a rough pebble, causing the orc to topple over. The sac he carried on his back added to the impact, thrusting his face into a puddle of dark mud. When he lifted his face up, covered in mud, he began to laugh.

He was alive.

I can't get that final image of this poor orc raising his face out of the mud, pitiful, yet laughing. Thanks for sharing this, I hope to read more of your work and to see you in game soon!

[Mawl]

((Thanks for the responses guys! I really appreciate them. I know these entries are really short, but that's really the purpose of them all, since the entirety of Mawl's life after Draenor is nothing but wondering about meaninglessly ))