#celebrationpost

But it was no longer his trials he needed to worry about. His people were starving, and their leaders had devised a plan to no longer be the hunted. A dark man in heavy robes was behind their Chief, pointing out several of the orphans in the crowd. One of them was Gon.

Later that day, the boys were assembled over grim, looming fire- “Can a fire be grim?” It was the mood of the fire. “Oh, so fires have moods to.” It’s a figure of-nevermind. The dark robed man pointed to Gon, gesturing him to come forward. Gon, with a gulp, approached nervously to the man. A language that could not be describe was uttered from the main, and soon Gon felt…queezy. His chest began to ache,a mark forming on his right breast-and his arms felt like beefy snakes. His vision became more and more hazy as his body grew and then…nothing. Gons people magically aged him, and put him in a state of bloodlust. “What? Why would they do that to Gon?” Because they need to eat, and they needed strong warriors to help conquer surrounding lands. “Wow, that is very bad.” It is, kid. It really is.

Many months passed where Gon helped his people attack the surrounding villages of the Mountain. Gon did very bad things, but not on his own will. Then, while Gon was sent to a forest- he encountered a bear spirit. That spirit was known as Lo’ten, the Great Bear- Guardian of Cubs. Gon, aged by magic to be a bloodthirsty berserker, saw the spirit as a challenge of his might and immediately attacked. He was no matched for Lo’ten and quickly beaten. When he woke up…Gon felt himself returning. He remembered the bad stuff he had done, feeling sad, angry, and lonely while things pieced together. “What bad things did he do?” I can’t tell you that. “Why not?” You would not want to know, trust me. “This was a story…it didn’t happen, right?” …Right, it’s just a story. Still, I do not need to describe it. They were very bad.

Gon spent many nights huddled in the forest, trying avoid both his people and the people hurt. He wished to see again the mighty dream that awoke his imagination, and stirred his heart with courage. His wish was fulfilled, somewhat, as he saw himself into another vision-another chance to speak with his father, Gin-gar. ‘Father,’ He pleads, ‘How can I forgive myself? I did very bad things to people around the Mountain…I hurt them, Father. I don’t like who I am.’ Gin-gar smiled at his son, shaking his head. ‘You were not in control of your body, your people did.’ He wipes away the tears off his son’s cheeks, continuing. ‘You are boy of overwhelming kindness, Gon. While you bear a hefty burden and a painful curse, you have been freed by the spirits of your world. Our people are cursed to commit bad deeds, for choosing to live in such evil like the Mountain.’ He kneels down, explaining what happened to Gons family. ‘We spoke out against living in the Mountain-we wanted to face judgement for the bad things. Many of our people agreed, but the Chief and his group did not want to face punishment. Me, your mother, and your sister were ended by their treachery.’

“That is so sad…” It was sad, indeed, for Gon felt betrayed- felt angry. He was a tool, a puppet for his people, and they kept the awful secret of their deeds from him. ‘You cannot let your anger take over you, Gon.” Ging-gar told his son. ‘You must avenge our family, but our peoples time has come to an end. They will face punishment soon, and the chief too will pay. But there are some like you, Gon. Those turned into what you are, other orphans left in the Mountain-adults who are desperate for escape.’ Lo’ten appeared by Ging-gar, bowing his head to Gon in approval. ‘You must lead them away and to the places you dreamed. The lush places, the open deserts, the peaceful forests.’ Gon bowed his head, ‘Yes, father, they shall be saved.’

And so, Gon traveled back to the mountain to face his people. Many warriors fell to Gons rageful might as he ventured, but he each gave them honorable deaths by one on one combat. “One on one combat? But they were bad, weren’t they? Couldn’t they have rushed him?” Well, yes. In fact, some of them forsook the honor and charged at him. It did not help, it only hindered their attack.

Gon made it to the mountain, and he knew that his father was right to order the abandoning of his vengeance. The evil things, the spirits, they rose to fight their people. The flying lizards bathed their hordes in flame. Lo’ten was seen to pummel and crush those in their way. Beings of great flame pummeled and lit many of the warriors. Gon found the dark man in robes destroyed, and many of the orphaned-turned killers afraid and despondent. He,too, found many of the innocent men and women of his people scattered about, trying to hide or defend themselves. With confidence and leadership, he lead them out as best as he could. “But he was a child inside, was he not?” He was. But he met to his fathers expectations. Its why he said he would be proud.

The fight out was hard, but they managed to escape mostly intact. As the people began to collect themselves, Gon announced to them. ‘The ways of old are gone. The ways of the Mountain are gone. Out there, away from the Mountain, are lands lush and free. Lands arid and bountied. Lands peaceful and ancient. You must find these places and settle yourselves there-for you are still the blood of our kind. You stood against the treachery of our people. You are chosen to redeem.’

His name was …Gon, and he was an orphan. “Just like me?” Heh, yeah. Just like you. He lived in a place with two worlds-each with a very special mountain. One mountain was where all goodness comes from-the spirits of these worlds traveling their when their times were done. None were excluded from the merry dance of the spirits- and they guided their youthful sons, grandsons, and daughters and granddaughters. “So its like Oshu’gon, the Mountain of Ancestors?” Exactly like that, child. It was filled with glorious goodness, made of great white crystal…the other mountain, though, was not so good. Its rock was black, ebony, as if charred by a great flame. It was a den of great evil, filled with the dark things. Lizards that flew- “You mean dragons?” Well…yes. “This is sounding a lot like our worlds.” Well, I know, but- look, keep listening to the story, oookay? “…Okay.” Good. Anyways- lizards that flew, broiling anything in sight with their flame. Flame itself, gathered in great forms to devastate all victim of their fury.

Gon’s people chose to live in this mountain. “What?! Why!” They did bad things, child. Their kind had denounced their actions, so they were forever running from the justice of the good. Their only option was to house in these dens until their hunters would leave-and it only got worst when many found their home cozy. The evil air of the Mountain turned Gon’s people into even badder people. “How bad?” Like…take bad, add that with bad, and multiply that by bad. “Oh, -that- bad?” Yep, that bad.

Gon, the orphan, was all alone with his people in the Mountain. The only thing he inherited from them and his family was the cold stone beneath him-the dirty cave water that just barely helped him survive, and the hot, humid lava that gave much of the Mountain light. He did not like it there, he knew nothing of the world’s outside…and he felt there was no hope in reaching it. “Aww…poor Gon.” Yeah…poor Gon.

But his luck turned around. One night, he dreamed of glorious green plains. He dreamed of rolling hills, echoing deserts, and the lush places of the world. And then…he dreamed of the good Oshu’gon. He never saw a thing so big…so shiny, so good. “How come he lives in a mountain, but hasn’t seen something as big as-“ It’s a matter of perspective, Tomar. Just stick with it.

Anyways, on that good Oshu’gon was his father, Gingon. “How did he know it was his father?” The ties of family are greater than any sense, Tomar. Sometimes you just…know. “I am sorry, I wouldn’t know.” I’m sorry, kid. ‘Gon,’ He spoke, his son crying tears of joy to be on such a mountain, with such a man like his father. ‘The places you dream of will be yours to see, but you must be patient. There are trials ahead that you must face alone. You will see, in time that they will change you in ways that you wish they cannot. But know that you make me proud, and that you will make our kind proud by your actions in the future.’ And with that, the dream began to fade, and Gon only had more questions.

The Orphanage was a small one, no doubt due to the need for space by the assembly of the iron Orgimmar. Women from youthful to crone tended to the small pattering of orcish feet, many giggling happy at their play. It seems like they have been happier since the fall of Hellscream, Oshtar Bloodwalker though as he entered in.

Oshtar came by the Orphanage once every so often-it was good to remember where he came from, so he might find pride in his independence from his family name. He was an Orphan of the Blackrock Clan, a child whose family was unknown to him. It was until he broke free from them did he learn their fate…and it only fueled his enmity with them. Oshtars fist could only tighten at the mention of the Blackrock in his mind, his mind calling out for Lo’ten to be in his arms to comfort him.

A quiet sniffling caught his attention, just outside the Orphanage entrance. It seemed one of the denizens had exited the cavern-like home to be alone, to sit on one of the many rocks within the deep crag. Oshtar, with his curiousity peaked, traveled outside to investigate. It was night, indeed, but the stars were naught to be seen by the torch sconces and the thick steel of Orgrimmar.

Oshtar found the sniffling to originate from a young, orcish boy- tears from his eyes and snot from his nose being wiped by his little jerkin. The warrior, unperturbed by the excretion of the nose, sat down and looked at the lonely orphan. “What is your name, little one?” The young orc boy gaze upwards from his sad stare on the ground, replying with a timid voice. “T-Tomar, sir. L-lok’tar Ogar!” He would say despondedly, wavering arms giving a weak salute-an effort to look strong before an orc whose stare look hardened.

“I am not your Warchief, Tomar.” He said bluntly, grunting outwards. “Your gesture is appreciated, but not needed. Tell me, little one-what ails you?” He asked with a concerned tone, his look of concern encouraging the young Tomar. “W-well…it should not trouble you, sir-I just…miss my family. They are with the Ancestors now, and…well, things are lonely here sometimes.” The boy lets his feet dangle from the rock while he speaks. “The friends I have here are fun…but we don’t talk much about our families. Our caretakers are kind…but, I’m scared that I would embarrass them…” He sniffed again, looking off into the starless night sky. “Why cant I be with my mommy and daddy? What do I do down here?”

Oshtar Bloodwalker grew silent as he listened to the boy, remembering his days with his Clan…feeling those same feelings. He never got the chance to settle them before things got…hazy. He patted boy on the back, raising a gesture for him to wait. “I must speak with your caretaker.” It was a moment of waiting for the young Tomar while Oshtar went inside, letting his feet dangle like a pendulum out of physical boredom.