Bam, Post Kun-Lai battle Ashgar story xD.
Ashgar stared at the lists of the dead and wounded from the Kun-Lai campaign. These lists are far too long for some thrice damned relic, he thought to himself as he pushed the papers away, standing and turning to look out the window behind him as the Gira flew away from Pandaria, seeing only the ocean as the airship set first for Silvermoon to drop off the wounded, and then to Orgrimmar. "From there to Winterspring," the old orc whispered to himself. One hundred of the Alizarin's freelancers had fallen in this campaign, as well as who knew how many of the Oathsworn enlisted soldiers.
"We didn't lose half this many fighting in the Southern Barrens, and that was a righteous cause," he spoke softly. "We didn't lose anywhere near this many at Theramore and that turned out to be nothing more than a testing," he said as he turned again, chain mail clinking softly as he left the room, walking through the barracks section of the ship. Only the sounds of the sleeping and the moans of the wounded could be heard as he walked, not sure where he was going, through the bowels of the ship. Upstairs and down, through both mess halls and into the engine room, all under staffed or left quiet in the wake of the defeat in the mountains.
Eventually he found himself in the armory, empty except for himself. The Gira was equipped with a small elemental powered forge, not enough for creation of new weapons, armor and parts, but enough to keep the current ones in repair. Walking towards the anvil, he placed a hand on it for a moment, thinking of the ten orcish and goblin smiths in the company who had worked here when not in battle. All but one of them had been listed among the dead. The sole remaining smith of the company was himself, General Ashgar Ironfist, a tired orc. He had known them all, even fought alongside some of the orcs during the Second War and Third wars.
"Here we sang as we worked. Even the goblins sang along with us after they realized we wouldn't stop," he said as he wiped the tears that had begun to form away from his eyes. "We sang songs of victories and losses, of gold and taverns, of those we'd lost and all the things we'd do as we continued to spit in the eye of death. And now, I can't hear them anymore," he whispered as he broke into tears, his fist slamming into the anvil as he cried out in rage and in pain at the losses.
"And I did my duty through it all." he whispered when he was finished.