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Damn my shoulder hurt. For once, I thought Kopperschott knew not to betray his allies.
Guess I was wrong.
Throw in the torture these bastard Kor'Kron have inflicted to my body and face and I'd be lucky to even -look- like a half-rotten undead in Undercity.
"You ready to talk, you traitorous peon?!" A plated backhand brought me out of my daydreaming. He wore the same armor as Kiethoo and every other Kor'Kron I had seen and killed during the Peon riot. I put on my best facade.
"Me know nothing! Just following Thokk orders!" But the Kor'Kron didn't buy it. A red hot iron pressed into my cheek making me damn near black out from the pain.
"We KNOW you're Thokk. No other peon could have fought as you did! Your abilities out there set you apart and even LOOKED familiar, ex Kor'Kron!"
Damn. So everyone had been informed.
"You want to know what I know about Enekie? What she has planned?" I roared between gasps as the iron was pulled away. The burnt smell of my flesh making me sick. It seems they were satisfied or at the very least curious.
"So the peon leader speaks." The head honcho of my "inquisition" chuckled. "Yes, we want to know what this little tree-mite has planned and where she is!"
I could only grin at my stupidity. "That's the thing that I admire about Enekie." The Kor'Kron made a disgusted retching sound, as though she and I had an affair.
I wasn't -that- desperate for a mate.
"She doesn't tell me anything about her." I confessed honestly. But they, again, didn't believe me. The stupid one (take your pick) decided to give me a crack across the jaw. I felt a fang fracture and my mouth was lit in flames. I saw my fang sitting on the floor next to my other one they had pulled to start the questioning. My jaw ached.
"Tell us what you know, peon, or we'll drive every one of your rebellious idiots to death!"
They may be idiots, and they may be rebellious, but they were -my- people. Bent from years of hard labor, the only other orc to show kindness to them was Thrall and only the spirits knew where he was.
"You..." I started, my mouth full of blood. The boss grabbed my ripped tunic.
I spat my mouth full of blood, grit, teeth, and burnt flesh onto the face of his helmet. A small victory that would cost him hours of cleaning and polishing.
"You should have been drowned at birth, you dishonorable pink-skin." An insult that combined the two biggest challenges to an orc, a question of their life, to have been drowned at birth for being such a weakling, and of their honor as an orc, being called (in essence) a human.
I didn't get a chance to speak again when I decided to headbutt a fist flying straight at me.
Edited by Thokk on 12/10/2012 6:11 AM PST
'I've had worse hangovers.' I decided, spitting out more red blood and a few teeth fragments. I was in my cell, unbound for a change. I touched my cheek and found none, only a hole burnt clean through like some sort of Darkmoon fire eater decided to take up sword swallowing.
'Okay, no I haven't.' I changed my mind. My head throbbed at the idea of thinking, but the noise outside my cell was far worse. Common commotion in the Orgrimmar streets. Another of Hellscream's dogs in their golden armor and axe screaming about how everybody was to work tirelessly for the glorious Horde war machine.
I knew the voice from anywhere.
Wait... That bumbling idiot was preaching about the labor everyone was -required- to work, and -tirelessly- at that.
No. I would rip that mutt's vocal cords out before word reached the men, women, and children. There would be -no- forced labor on anyone but my peons. It was our burden and we were proud to carry it and the Horde to stability. No one would suffer the same.
Paper fell from one of the passerby's carts. I reached from my barred window, barely reaching it before a foot trampled it into the dirt. I took a gander and felt every Thokk's pride, anguish, regret, and burden fall to me in an instant.
The things these adventurers keep in their backpacks.
Not wasting time and needing to get word out, I began to write on the back of my leader's flyer using one small broken fang and the blood from my mouth as ink and quill. I was able to play off my unconsciousness to the guards by lying facedown in my own puddle of blood on the floor. After night had fallen, they grew lax in their patrols, so by moonlight and the occasional enchanted lantern, I finished.
"Thokk, is that you?" I heard a whisper from my window. I turned into the judging face of Ezidran. I can remember working with him on several occasions, closely enough to know of his son and the promises he confided in me about his hopes and dreams for his boy's future.
Talk about your deus ex machina, but I wasn't a stickler nor a fan for irony in books. Hardly even read them.
"Ezidran. No time. Take this letter and deliver it. Make it known to every Tauren, Undead, Sin'dorei, Troll, Goblin, Pandaren, and Orc; but BE cautious around the Orcs!" I passed my letter to him and he smiled before leaving.
"It shall be done, friend."
My execution was tomorrow, but my letter was for the future of our Horde.
Edited by Thokk on 12/6/2012 10:48 AM PST
Just want to say thanks to Enekie for giving me the chance to finish Thokk's story, not just my portion of it from your well-written noir, but my story -period-.
I needed direction, and you provided that.
So you've my thanks.
The original peon that started it all.
The second, a brash warrior that met his fate in the barrens.
The third a warrior that sprung up from nowhere, worked with the Kor'Kron, and threw down his weapon and armor after Theramore to become this 'new-Thokk' here.
But after this, Thokk's fate will be unknown to me.
How comfortable would you be with other players taking up the mantle of Thokk? What you've done here is a really interesting idea and I think you could easily expand on it with a sort of Thokk network.
Take a seat.
This story gets interesting later.
The ancestors have spoken.
There must always be a Thokk.
It ain't personal...it's just business.
Also, possibly fiction. I'm not sure that was actually me, 'cuz I'm kinda wiry when compared to my description...plus, ya know, helmet an allat...I can be masqueraded as.
I really dunno what happened 'cuz I may have been drunk all the times.
Dawn had come, at long last. The Kor'Kron knocked on my cell bars with his axe in mock politeness, sliding food under the gap in the bars.
"Breakfast." He grunted. Gesturing at the low, wide bowl of bread sitting in a murky liquid. "Best eat it before the bread gets too soggy."
"Traitors don't get last meals." I pointed out. I wasn't as stupid as these 'elite' soldiers made me out to be.
"Thokk." The Kor'Kron grumbled low enough for his voice to slip from under his helmet without echoing. "Not all of us will see a hero die hungry."
I was no hero. But I took the bread, simple hardtack from what tasted like two days ago, and the lukewarm liquid that smelled of cherries...
I laughed at myself, the first Thokk would have danced for such a treat. Cherry grog, as the legend held me to. I can remember how stories were told of Thokk drinking Tauren under the tables with this stuff, but I never had a taste for it. I wasn't one to complain during prison time, so I quaffed it down anyways. The sugary sweetness lingered on my lips.
Not but an hour later, two other Kor'Kron came to take me out of my cell for quite possibly the last time. I noticed one of them had a reddish brown stain on the face of their helmet. Possibly from yesterday.
"Kor'kron are to keep their armor in pristine condition." I stated. He replied with a fist to my mouth. Bad idea, I know, but I countered his reply with blood on his boots. This exchange continued until I couldn't work my jaw well enough to spit, just drool.
"Your execution is a public event, held in the Valley of Trials so that even the Peons can see their hero fall."
If the peons saw the end of Thokk personally... It was something they'd never seen before. the death of the first Thokk was kept secret by the second, whom I had worked with on occasion. After the second died, I took it upon myself to become 'Thokk'... But the poor workers believed I was still the first. To see me die would leave them with Swobu, and only the Spirits knew where he was.
I couldn't even speak - though it could have been because of my broken jaw; I could only wait and watch as I was paraded through Orgrimmar in a prisoner's cart. I was forced to stand so that all could see my face and my honor stripped from me.
I was spat upon, called out by the Trolls and Goblins, the orcs shouted the highest insults any of my people could hear. The Tauren shook their heads in disappointment, and for some reason, the silent ones that only looked at me were the worst. I couldn't explain nor plead to them, only watched as a large crowd marched from Orgrimmar to the Valley of Trials, pelting me with rotten food and feces.
Then I saw them.
Peons who were either halting their work, waking up from shaded spots yet discovered by fledgling adventurers, or meandering about; all eyes were on me. Their big, sad, tear-filled eyes that knew who I was, what I was, and what the Kor'Kron planned to do with me.
They were slow, not incompetent.
I was marched up to the top of the Valley, where Sarkoth's mangled body rot. Who had killed a giant scorpion this time I didn't know. My journey began here, it was ironic it ended here.
But then again, I never had a fondness for reading. A shame. I'd like to think I could've been a mage or something. However it was those fire-flingers worked. Strange last thoughts from a dying orc, I guessed.
Before letting me out of the cart, the Kor'Kron with the stained helm instructed a robed troll to give me water so that I couldn't spit pure blood on him again. I drank with difficulty, but found my aching jaw moveable. I only noticed the sly wink from the troll before he was pushed aside and I was dragged out.
Healing waters from a shaman might heal my jaw, but a beheading was different.
I was roughly forced to my knees, looking down on the crowd of orcs, trolls, tauren, goblins, pandaren, even a congregation of Forsaken; and I could see roughly half of them holding bits of paper.
Ezidran, you faithful bastard.
The stained-helm Kor'Kron picked up an axe with a vicious edge.
"Any last words, pig?" He yelled, loud enough for many people to quiet down and await for me to beg. And given the circumstance, begging for my life, spilling the beans about Enekie, and telling them to hoof it back to Orgrimmar seemed like a good idea on any other day of a smart orc's life.
But I wasn't smart.
I was- no, I am a peon.
And that day would -not- be today.
The crowd grew restless for my last words, but my executioner took my silence as my answer. The axe nicked my neck to mark his target and warm blood rolled down my chest. The axe went up-
"FOR SWOBU." I remembered roaring out to everyone.
I remember many people cheering and the peons along with them.
Then the axe came down. And I remembered nothing.
Edited by Thokk on 12/7/2012 11:12 AM PST
His death was clean, and the crowd was cheering. Either at his final words of defiance or his death, I wasn't sure. Cries of both were mixed in.
Just how the smart bastard had hoped.
I stood there cheering along with them, but it was for his words, to encourage the Peons further, and I know who stood with me.
We all had received copies of his letter only hours before, thanks to his partner, Ezidran. And as the crowd continued to cheer about the death of a traitor or the rise of a legend in their eyes, hearts, and minds, I looked at the letter.
Edited by Thoard on 12/7/2012 11:23 AM PST
Thank you, Ansirem. It pleases me to receive a compliment from you.
As the title may suggest, I have freed up the name "Thokk" for anyone who wants to take it.
It may not be available right away, but I feel my time with the name has come to an end, and my story with it. I shall allow someone to either continue with the name and go down this path of the storyline of MoP, or the name shall take a new direction.
In either regard, it's a new tale with a new idea behind it. One that everyone can partake in if they so please.
For now, I think... I shall take a holiday.
Focus myself in my studies for the time being while I allow the World of Warcraft to become fresh again, and then I shall make Thoard my main character of choice as I've always fancied Death Knights.
I have other characters as well, but time will tell what they do, as always.
88 Undead Mage
I've always enjoyed Thokk as a character, from his beginnings as a strangely adorable peon to his rise as a symbol for his people. I look forward to seeing what you do with the undead once you return. Breaks do wonderful things for the creative spirit.
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