06-20-2010, 03:26 PM
Anca looked around at all the people, all the little notes brought to them. Some were exuberant, some disappointed, some solemn. But all those in the Hall who participated in the Argent Tournament had such a note. All except Anca.
She checked the messengers. None for Anca. Brow furrowed, the little girl checked others' notes. Even those people who wouldn't be directly attacking the Citadel had orders, whether to protect the homelands or wait as reinforcements, all part of the huge campaign to strike down the Lich King. Her brow furrowed harder with each note they let her check. She looked at each for the marks that meant her name, A-N-C-A, thinking maybe the messengers accidently gave her orders to someone else. No, the marks weren't there.
Papa Sreng, noticing how increasingly upset the girl was getting, passed his own orders down to his daughter, and though hopeful, she quickly noticed that it was his own name written there, so she gave them back.
Someone needed to answer some questions.
==============
The girl was a strange sight at three-feet high, dressed up in her battle armor, too-big-for-her weapons on her back, looking much like a green-skinned gnome, except cuter. And with her grumpiest face, Anca marched herself right into the Argent Pavilion and right up to the Justicar, who was sending aspirants out on their tasks for the day. There Anca stood, arms crossed. It took several minutes before the Justicar took notice and asked the girl what she wanted.
"Anca apposed to go for fighting BadKing! Anca got no note! Where note for Anca?"
The Justicar blinked a couple of times as she tried to parse what the orcling was taking about. "Are you a squire? Here to pick up orders for your master?" Inside, the Justicar was cursing the fact that orcs 'never learn to speak properly.'
Anca stomped her foot once. "Anca not square! Anca hunter! Anca Kor'kron! Anca apposed to go for fighting BadKing!"
"Oh, the little Kor'kron mascot!" said the Justicar. "You can't play in here. You should go get ready to be flown back to Orgrimmar," adding to herself "with the other children people were stupid enough to bring up here..." She waved her hand dismissively. "Go. Shoo."
The little orc was shocked. And furious. She stomped again, and noticed the Justicar's shins would be perfect for kicking at. However, she knew attacking someone in here fell into Anca's category of "bad things," and so restrained herself. Instead, she turned and stomped back the way she came. She knew there were others she could turn to.
========================
Overlord Garrosh Hellscream surveyed the tournament grounds, pleased with the war preparations. He smiled to himself. Then he saw the miniature orc hunter standing before him, hands on her hips, staring up at him with a very angry look on her face, and his smile turned to outright laughter.
"Well, you look ready to fight, little one! What are you doing here?"
"Anca apposed to go for fighting BadKing, but Anca got no note! Anca want note!"
Having had his laugh for the day, Garrosh was in no mood to play this little game with a child who apparently sneaked away from her parents. After all, he still had a battle to prepare his troops for.
"Go get on that zeppelin, kid! Civvies are getting shipped out of Northrend!" he shouted. "GO! NOW!"
Anca's eyes went wide and she scrambled away, even more upset that no one was listening to her when she was telling them something was wrong. But the Overlord gave her a thought. Getting on the zeppelin to Orgrimmar WAS a good idea. There was someone there who could help her. As quickly as she could, she grabbed her packs and shooed Snuffletusk up onto the vessel.
=========================
Head held high, but with her jaw set in her most serious pose, Anca marched into Grommash Hold, saluting the Kor'kron officers as she entered, each time receiving a nod and wave-through, sometimes with a proud smile as well. Vol'jin, Eitrigg, and some other were in council with the Warchief, speaking quietly over a series of maps spread haphazardly on table. Anca stood at the center of the room at attention. After several minutes, Thrall looked over to her, and she dropped to one knee, fist against her chest, and head down.
"Stormchild, and her warboar. What brings you here?"
Anca stood upright again and spoke very calmly, but firmly, well aware that utmost respect was necessary in this room.
"WarBossChief, Anca no get note for fighting BadKing. No note at all. Anca need go fight BadKing but got no note, and nobody at tourmammet have note for Anca."
Thrall, of course, had no trouble understanding the girl's words. Nor with her meaning. He closed his eyes for a moment and lowered his head before approaching the young hunter and lowering himself to one knee, bringing him closer to her height so he could speak directly to her.
"Stormchild, I know you wish to fight Arthas, and I have indeed heard that you fought well at the tournament. But it seems the Argent Crusade does not know the fierceness of your heart the way we do." Thrall stood to his full height, once again taking on his commanding presence. "I do not wish you to fight Arthas at Icecrown Citadel."
Anca's heart fell, though her outward appearance was unchanged. "Anca not go stay with little orcs. Anca want to fight."
"You are right, you will not go stay with the children. You are Kor'kron, and Kor'kron fight."
But before Thrall could continue, a low horn was heard through the valleys. The battle horn. Enemies at the gates.
She checked the messengers. None for Anca. Brow furrowed, the little girl checked others' notes. Even those people who wouldn't be directly attacking the Citadel had orders, whether to protect the homelands or wait as reinforcements, all part of the huge campaign to strike down the Lich King. Her brow furrowed harder with each note they let her check. She looked at each for the marks that meant her name, A-N-C-A, thinking maybe the messengers accidently gave her orders to someone else. No, the marks weren't there.
Papa Sreng, noticing how increasingly upset the girl was getting, passed his own orders down to his daughter, and though hopeful, she quickly noticed that it was his own name written there, so she gave them back.
Someone needed to answer some questions.
==============
The girl was a strange sight at three-feet high, dressed up in her battle armor, too-big-for-her weapons on her back, looking much like a green-skinned gnome, except cuter. And with her grumpiest face, Anca marched herself right into the Argent Pavilion and right up to the Justicar, who was sending aspirants out on their tasks for the day. There Anca stood, arms crossed. It took several minutes before the Justicar took notice and asked the girl what she wanted.
"Anca apposed to go for fighting BadKing! Anca got no note! Where note for Anca?"
The Justicar blinked a couple of times as she tried to parse what the orcling was taking about. "Are you a squire? Here to pick up orders for your master?" Inside, the Justicar was cursing the fact that orcs 'never learn to speak properly.'
Anca stomped her foot once. "Anca not square! Anca hunter! Anca Kor'kron! Anca apposed to go for fighting BadKing!"
"Oh, the little Kor'kron mascot!" said the Justicar. "You can't play in here. You should go get ready to be flown back to Orgrimmar," adding to herself "with the other children people were stupid enough to bring up here..." She waved her hand dismissively. "Go. Shoo."
The little orc was shocked. And furious. She stomped again, and noticed the Justicar's shins would be perfect for kicking at. However, she knew attacking someone in here fell into Anca's category of "bad things," and so restrained herself. Instead, she turned and stomped back the way she came. She knew there were others she could turn to.
========================
Overlord Garrosh Hellscream surveyed the tournament grounds, pleased with the war preparations. He smiled to himself. Then he saw the miniature orc hunter standing before him, hands on her hips, staring up at him with a very angry look on her face, and his smile turned to outright laughter.
"Well, you look ready to fight, little one! What are you doing here?"
"Anca apposed to go for fighting BadKing, but Anca got no note! Anca want note!"
Having had his laugh for the day, Garrosh was in no mood to play this little game with a child who apparently sneaked away from her parents. After all, he still had a battle to prepare his troops for.
"Go get on that zeppelin, kid! Civvies are getting shipped out of Northrend!" he shouted. "GO! NOW!"
Anca's eyes went wide and she scrambled away, even more upset that no one was listening to her when she was telling them something was wrong. But the Overlord gave her a thought. Getting on the zeppelin to Orgrimmar WAS a good idea. There was someone there who could help her. As quickly as she could, she grabbed her packs and shooed Snuffletusk up onto the vessel.
=========================
Head held high, but with her jaw set in her most serious pose, Anca marched into Grommash Hold, saluting the Kor'kron officers as she entered, each time receiving a nod and wave-through, sometimes with a proud smile as well. Vol'jin, Eitrigg, and some other were in council with the Warchief, speaking quietly over a series of maps spread haphazardly on table. Anca stood at the center of the room at attention. After several minutes, Thrall looked over to her, and she dropped to one knee, fist against her chest, and head down.
"Stormchild, and her warboar. What brings you here?"
Anca stood upright again and spoke very calmly, but firmly, well aware that utmost respect was necessary in this room.
"WarBossChief, Anca no get note for fighting BadKing. No note at all. Anca need go fight BadKing but got no note, and nobody at tourmammet have note for Anca."
Thrall, of course, had no trouble understanding the girl's words. Nor with her meaning. He closed his eyes for a moment and lowered his head before approaching the young hunter and lowering himself to one knee, bringing him closer to her height so he could speak directly to her.
"Stormchild, I know you wish to fight Arthas, and I have indeed heard that you fought well at the tournament. But it seems the Argent Crusade does not know the fierceness of your heart the way we do." Thrall stood to his full height, once again taking on his commanding presence. "I do not wish you to fight Arthas at Icecrown Citadel."
Anca's heart fell, though her outward appearance was unchanged. "Anca not go stay with little orcs. Anca want to fight."
"You are right, you will not go stay with the children. You are Kor'kron, and Kor'kron fight."
But before Thrall could continue, a low horn was heard through the valleys. The battle horn. Enemies at the gates.