Memories of dreaming glory

nagrandelements

Well, that’s settled. My mother is alive.

I’ve been staying here in Garadar the last few days. Luckily Spazzle’s gotten my why-fly (or whatever it’s called) connection working a little more reliably, so I’ve been able to keep up with the blog and post this week’s EPIC VERSE and all of that. As I mentioned the other day, Greatmother said Lakkara had gone out to visit the other Mag’har in Hellfire Peninsula, so I’ve been hanging out here to see if she would turn up again before I needed to get back to business in Orgrimmar. Luckily things have been quiet back home lately, so I figured there wouldn’t be anything Eitrigg couldn’t handle while I was away. Also, yeah, I’m not going to lie, I figured timing-wise this might let me stick Eitrigg with those end-of-month military expenditure reviews. Fuck I hate paperwork.

Anyway. It’s been good to spend some time back here, I suppose, although it’s also been giving Greatmother plenty of time to give me her nudge-nudge reminders about Kilrath having a daughter and how she wanted me to meet her and yeah, that’s just what I want, to get paired off with some girl my Greatmother picked out for me.

On the up side, I’ve gotten to spend some time hanging around with Jorin Deadeye, who used to pick on me like nobody’s business when we were kids, and didn’t get a whole lot better when we grew up. Everything with him was “Nice job your dad did dooming our people,” and “Damn, you’re a mopey, whiny little bitch” (and granted back in those days I WAS pretty emo, and I CAN’T IMAGINE WHY I WOULD HAVE BEEN KIND OF DOWN ON MYSELF AT THE TIME), and going around calling himself the “warchief” of the Bleeding Hollow clan instead of the chieftain. So I’ve been making a point of just hanging out wherever he’s been pretty regularly, and saying stuff to him like, “So hey, you like my axe? Yeah? Well check it, this is Gorehowl, the blade my dad used to FUCKING ONE-SHOT MANNOROTH and lift the blood haze from the orcs, how ’bout that, huh?” and “Hey, Chieftain, remind me, who’s actually Warchief these days? OH YEAH, SMALL WORLD!” Cue the comically appropriate Earth Online machinima:

Good times.

But anyway, back to the original point of the post. Earlier today, Lakkara turned up again. Greatmother called me up to her dwelling to see her. I have to admit, even though I knew that the smart thing was to stay skeptical until I could confirm who she was, it was pretty tough not to be shaken up by the first sight of her. I haven’t seen my mother since I was a little kid, but those last fumes of memory stay with you…and damned if she didn’t look just like my mother, with some extra wrinkles and gray hairs added on. Older for sure, weakened by the red pox and worn by a hard life, but damned if she didn’t look just like her.

I don’t think I was the only one who was shaken up some. As soon as I showed up, Lakkara became pretty emotional and teared up…it took her some time to pull herself together. Greatmother stepped outside so the two of us could have some time alone. Mostly at first I just let her talk. She pretty much repeated what she’d said in her letter, filled in a few more details here and there…I held back and tried to give her room to contradict herself, and listened the best I could for any holes in her story. Nothing I could see.

Then I played my ace in the hole. There was one time when I was a kid when I woke up burning up with fever from the pox. But the disease wasn’t the worst part. In my feverish sleep, I’d been having a nightmare – one of those awful, vivid dreams you wake up from and you’re still not sure if it was a dream, or real, or if you’ve really woken from it or if anything around you is real. You know the ones? Those dreams you have as a little kid where even when you wake up you’re still scared the dream will come get you? Yeah. One of those. I had woken up, and my mother came in and sat with me, and we stayed up most of the night talking about the nightmare I’d had and the nightmare we were living and everything else in between that we could think of.

I’ve never talked to anyone else about any of this.

She remembered every detail. Once I brought it up, she didn’t need any prompting. No leading questions. Nothing. She remembered the night I was talking about, everything we’d talked about. Most of all she remembered the dream – everything I’d told her, as if it had only been days ago rather than years. It had stayed with her as much as it had with me. She said my nightmare had stolen one night’s sleep from me, but dozens from her. She said I would understand one day when I had a child of my own.

That would have been enough to convince me, but to tell you the truth, by that point I was already being won over. Never mind what she looked like – she smelled just like my mother. There are scents that just always stay with you, you know? And for whatever reason I’ve always had a pretty sharp sense of smell. Not that that’s always been a positive thing in some parts of Orgrimmar, let me tell you. Anyway, though…the more time I spent around this woman, the more I noticed it – that smell I can’t really describe but would always recognize when she was close to me, like old parchment and dreaming glories. Like comfort. Like home.

It’s her.

I’m going to stay here with her for another day or two, then I’ll be getting set to bring her to see the orcs’ new home. Obviously she’s never been through the Dark Portal, and I’m kind of looking forward to showing her around Azeroth. I think she’s going to love Mulgore.

 

 

[Header image provided by Angelya from Revive and Rejuvenate, used here with permission and many thanks.]

The Tuskarr and the Mortimer
Welcome to [Warchief]
 

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