Saskatoon Mountain Villages - The Orcs' Hut

The words were heard, yes, but they had no acknowledgment. The giant orc continued to stare in a dazed, nearly romantic way into the fire, as if peace was delivered through such intense warmth. A sudden, death-like groan was heard, as if that was his response. The beastly figure continued to sit there, staring deeply into the flame while his eyes did not water, his breathing was not seen, his body still. Everything seemed to go against reality, but this was indeed how Theev'Nok used to appear, aside from the giant stitches seen pulling the entire left side of his neck together. After Daris' moment of speaking, only a minute would go by before the hulking figure pushed itself up, staring down to the two of them.

Then there was a reaction.

At first, it looked painful, especially when his eyes widened as he looked to Zar'Dura, where a memory of him dying flashed across his mind, making him stagger back and roar in agony, hands clapping against his forehead as he jogged backwards, dropping to a knee as a monstrous cry continued within him. Then, it disappeared, while the figure focused on something else. Something that was just said.

"You make a mockery."

That was all that was acknowledged by this brute, staring back up to Daris'Fall with a gritted jaw, rising to his full height as he began to march forward, fists balled as he did so. Swaying back and forth, the floor below him began to vibrate with each step. Now only seven feet apart from each other did he halt, with the familiar, breathtaking command from the person now revealing himself behind him.

"Theev'!!" Came from afar, walking forward did he show himself. Thorok, as well, staring to Daris'Fall with that same cold, determined gaze like he did all the time. But this time, however, as he made eye contact with such a warrior, his legs grew weak. His spear lifted up so that his forearms pinched against it as he dropped to his knees and fell over. Obviously, from how fatigued he looked in his few moments of consciousness along with how he seemed to be powerful up until that moment, he was thriving off of sheer willpower, and nothing else.

As this sudden scene was displayed, the giant orc seemed to be in some stasis, waiting for his next command. But, as he stared down to the floor in front of the two, water was seen beginning to build up around pitch black eyes, and soon that water would be observed as purple as it fell as tears. Quite the strange episode, indeed, but it still happened on the orcs' front door. Thorok laid there, barely awake, eyes squinting as his body seemed to welcome the floor, his chest widening and condensing with heavy, effort-filled breaths.

"Necromancey."

Daris hissed when he saw Theev'Nok's throat. One of the vile practitioners of that dark art had made mockery of a hero of Falkreath. Anger seared through Daris's being. A roaring fire through his very veins urging him to destroy the abomination that had once been his idol. To find the one who so profaned his people and strike him down. Indeed he was about to attack when he heard the voice. He turned to see his Thorok. His chief his cousin who could apprently command the monstrosity. Daris's grip on his blade tightens and he stares at the weakened orc. He speaks quietly to his wife.

"I do not know Dura."

Then louder at his cousin.

"What have you done Thorok? What have you wrought? Tell me I am mistaken. Tell me you did not dip into the dark magics and make mockery of our greatest warrior. Tell me what became of Falkreath."

Daris bristled at Thorok's words. There was merit to what his cousin said. Under different circumstances Daris would have been overjoyed to see the other orc. The presence of the creature that was and was not Theev'Nok put Daris on edge though. His experience in the canyon had bread a powerful hate for dark magics in the warrior. Just the possibility that Thorok may have stooped so low put Daris's teeth on edge. Still he gritted his teeth and lifted the sleeping form of Thorok from the ground. Carrying the larger orc inside to be laid on the bed. He then went to his wife to speak in private.

"What do we do Dura?"

His voice is low and worried. He'd always hoped their people would return. He'd dreamed of this day, but never had it been like this. Never had it contained so many unanswered questions and fear.

Daris eyes the shape of the Theev'nok that is not Theev'nok. He still itches to attack the abomination. But he holds his blade for now. If Dura thought it best to wait he would. He recognizes that his judgement may not be the clearest in this situation. She was keeping a calmer head and he'd listen to her. He'd sit in silence with her until Thorok awoke.

Daris stared at his older cousin. This haunted creature was not the proud chief he remembered. This man had seen horrors and excepted help from the darkness. Could Daris judge him? No the orc warrior could not say he would have acted differently to survive.

But that didn't change the fact that Thorok had been beaten down. That Thorok through no fault of his own had failed as chief. The story the orc had told hadn't been clear, but Daris understood that Thorok's return did not mean a return of their people. Falkreath was still lost and all that remained where three orcs and an abomination. Perhaps not of necromancey, but of some darkness the warrior didn't under stand. He moved closer to Dura waiting for her to speak. It was to her Thorok's last words had been spoken.

Stepping towards her, he cared not for how close the two were, his arms lowered to his sides as he remained staring deep into her eyes like a father instructing their child. "Zar'Dura, you are the Listener. You can communicate with these spirits. I know, I know it, you can bring him back. Speak to the spirits.." Thorok now crouched down, his hands taking the sides of her face as he connected foreheads with her, keeping eyes connected the entire time.

And before he spoke, and as he spoke, his eyes were begging for agreement to this request. It was obvious that this orc had nothing left anymore, he was shattered. A hundred pieces scattered to prove all pathetic. But yet, with every ounce of his voice, it seemed to amplify his pain, as if he was somehow even more sensitive than he should've been. But was he really? His wives, his brethren, everything ripped from his grasp, throwing him to the floor as a weak mongrel, and this was all he had left. Was it truly too emotional for him to react.

He kept staring to her for a while, and after a few seconds, he spoke once more, not daring to so much as blink when he spoke one last time before he gave her the chance to speak. "Bring our brother home."

Bricks.... Shadow... Chains... and Pain..


The only things that a soul like Theev'Nok's could endure anymore. A soul, with body, yes, in this realm. He didn't know where he was, but he knew the walls. The walls, now so comfortable to him. He could remember every brick on each wall without having to could halfway this time. Rather, even counting the first brick he would know. But the roof.. the roof to this small room was gone.. and shadow was all that was there.

Theev'Nok's arms were stretched out and upwards, his head hanging as he tried to hang himself, giving his feet rest. But to no avail, as his feet seemed to be cuffed and planted there, chains wrapping around them as well. His face.. if any could've seen his face at that time, none would've believed it would be Theev'Nok. Not only had half of it been ripped apart, but through Theev'Nok's own eyes could he see the fibers and red flesh in between where his knows was supposed to be. 

And still he'd hang there, thinking of agony. Still, to this day, the creatures who imprisoned him would not let him be forgiven. Zar'Dura.. he made her die. Because of him, Thrashnald had killed her, and his life was damned for barbaric and unceasing agony. The breathing Theev'Nok cast out was sputtered and random, as it was a reaction to the ever-growing pain within his head, his heartbeat pounding through his ears and making his wrists cry out, not an ounce of circulation getting by.

And he would think again. Think of how he could've defeated Thrashnald. How he should've defeated Thrashnald. How his friends have longed for him, and how the Chieftan would've reacted. Would they give him an honorable ceremony? Within the middle of his thoughts, hoping for an honorable ceremony for the fiftieth time, the beast once more came out from the shadows and sent a mighty hand across Theev'Nok's face, hearing his neck snap a dozen times once more.




"You're putrid thoughts disturb me, fleshling." 

A Minotaur, bred from both horror and bile. A creature buried within the depths of damnation and agony. A true priest of all that was evil and wrong. And Theev'Nok was unfortunate enough to have been judged by such a creature. The monster spoke with a powerful voice, shaking the ears upon Theev'Nok's head, his chest vibrating and his throat letting out a groan from the painful vibration it too received.

The monster looked down upon the mighty Theev'Nok, for he was a tall and monstrous creature. His face showed nothing more but intentions to maim and disgust. After all, who was an orc like Theev'Nok's self to be brought forth to such a perfect bringer of death?

But then, as the Minotaur was beginning to speak once more, something was different. The monster turned around to witness the wall crackling apart in the middle, which made Theev'Nok raise his head in wonder and surprise. The last time such a wall had opened was to bring the Minotaur here, but now.. now he saw something..

Light.

A path leading towards a pillar of light. Theev'Nok suddenly fell to the ground, for the chains upon him were gone. Whipping around in instinct, the Minotaur lifted Theev'Nok high into the air, a hand clutched mightily around his throat as he left Theev'Nok dangling a dangerous height. But from there, from there, Theev'Nok found something new. Strength. A mighty, swift kick was delivered just above the collar bone of the Minotaur, who grunted and barely loosened his grip upon the orc.But it was enough to gain a wheezing breath. From there, he kicked again, and then again, until suddenly the Minotaur absent-mindedly hurled him behind itself, grasping onto its throat for a moment before turning around to stare with a judging growl at Theev'Nok, who with much fear began sprinting to the pillar of light.

The last thing Theev'Nok heard before leaping into such a pillar was the horrifying, echoing roar of the Minotaur, which would've easily made the orc fall to the ground and drain him of all his strength both internally and externally, but Theev'Nok was already within the air when such a roar was started, falling limply into the light.

And from there, the orc was thrown from Zar'Dura across the fire, colliding with the ground and dragging for a moment.

Theev'Nok cried the weakest cry one could hear, barely a silent cough. After a few moments, his hand lifted up, looking to the ground. Color... real color. Dirt, yes, but color. Brown. His hand slid across it, moving it around before grabbing a handful, wide eyed as his body turned to sit upwards, facing the ground as his chest began pumping air once more. He clutched onto his face to feel no missing chunks, to feel flesh without pain. His body was returned to him. The stitches were gone, Thorok could see at least, when the Brute turned around to look at the three.

And from there, not only did he see Daris'Fall and Thorok, but he saw Zar'Dura. From there, a stutter was heard, and his vision was blurred, and he reached a hand out to Zar'Dura with wonder, confusion, and happiness, before he collapsed from a faint. Apparently that strength the warrior had in the physical realm was drained from the Minotaur's last roar, and none could truly know the time it'd take to return his strength.

Thorok rushed to him, looking into his dull, absent eyes to see that his was Theev'Nok, kneeling down by his head as he looked up to Zar'Dura with wide eyes. "Zar'Dura... the Listener indeed!" His face lit up with joy. "Your title proves true,my child." He snapped his head back down to Theev'Nok with worry, analyzing him to see how permanent this unconsciousness was. "A faint, that is all, I know." He said, clutching around the side of Theev'Nok's now unstitched neck, feeling a weak pulse. "But he is weak.. something has taken his strength for now.." He let go of his neck to let the circulation take its course, looking back up to Zar'Dura with much gratefulness.