The Keep

Grot sat in front of his dimly lit work table; powders, crystals, fabrics, thread and a myriad of other items strewn about chaotically in front of him as he stared at the mess with dissatisfaction. Moments ago it had been organized neatly, but his frustration caused him to violently upturn it all and wreck a nights work. He cursed himself out loud, certain it wouldn't awake the sleeping Kali. Nothing could awake her in the midst of her slumber, except the approach of danger, and even then he wouldn't entirely count on it.

In the past Grot was ever mindful of Kali's well being. Almost to the point of annoyance, he hovered about seeking to lift any unnecessary weight from her shoulders. Not that he felt she needed help, by no means. Kali was an orc woman as great as any there was. Could bare any burden thrust upon her. However, as far as Grot could see... She had bore enough.

Fleeing her old clan, Kali had took it upon herself to raise her little sister free of demonic influences. One young girl raising another meant a rough life for both, Grot, though clanless himself and without parental aid, sought to make her life easier. Not much older than her, he had no delusions of being a big brother looking out for his little sister. He looked into that little girls heart and saw a proud young woman he admired, and admiration he would not betray in thought or deed. Every crumb of food he scrounged, he shared with her, and she in turn passed it onto her sister.

As Grot was obsessed with Kali in some wholesome way, so too she was obsessed with providing for the young girl she took it upon herself to protect.

Lately Kali had become less responsive to him. She still talked eagerly with him, looked at him fondly and grew excited at his schemes, but all was not the same. In times past, Kali would've never condescended to take an order, or even a request not politely phrased, even from him; no, especially from him. She always saw some potential romance with Grot and never dared let any orc place her in such a position of inferiority in a relationship. Someday she would be bound in love, but not as an inferior.

These days, however, Grot's manner of speaking with her had become more curt. He lost his soothing respectful tone over time. He even began to make demands of the mighty warrior, and she never flinched or denied him. Slowly over time he probed her tolerance, asking of her more. She bent to his will readily. This thought disturbed him. Had his ministrations and deals to procure Kali's affections wrought a greater price then he thought? He wanted his mighty woman, wanted her with his entire body and being. But in the process, he pondered, had he destroyed the Kali that he so desired?

Together Grot and Kali had made their way from the depths of despair. They survived the strife in the east, survived the days of the camps, and when the new Warchief's cry called all orcs to him, they answered and gave themselves to the new Horde. No longer children, they studied and fought in those early days of the new Horde. They journeyed to the west and helped forge a new land, Durotar.

Their paths would not be the same however. Kali was undeniably a warrior, her strength and determination led her to no other path. Grot studied the 'old ways', learned of the shamans path, and while he lay awake each night, exhausted from the days lessons, he thought only of Kali. Images of her sleek, muscled form fighting endlessly against the masses of opponents she must have been facing haunted his vision.

A plan to test Kali raced through his mind as he fumbled through the mess of materials, searching for the right fabric and thread. Dropping the needle to the floor, he looked down and was suddenly reminded of his own raggedly torn bare-chest. Not entirely clotted over, blood still oozed from many of those cuts and scrapes. Grot was by no means superficial or vain, and this was perhaps the first time he looked upon his own body in months. Seeing his muscled green orcish form, he was reminded of yet another gift for which he paid dearly. His size seemed awfully large for one not often fighting in close quarters; and it was. In the beginning it was one little way he thought he might win the warrior of his dreams, but like himself, she was not concerned with such matters. A price paid to no effect.

Picking the needle from the floor he returned to his work, doing so without the greatest attention paid to it. His weary eyes wandered the room as his fingers worked of their own accord, and he eyed the mangled corpse in the corner of their bedroom. What were they again? He could not make out the victims race and for all his weariness could not remember it, no matter how hard he tried. "Some other Alliance fool, what else matters?" he muttered to himself, looking back to his work.

So much had changed during their time apart. Kali had matured, ripened and grown, in abilities and stature, only greater. When Grot looked upon her again after so long, he spied a woman of unfathomable prowess and beauty, already possessing single battle scars of more glorious events than his totaled. He shrunk away that day, embarrassed at his own shortcomings. Disappointed with his own lack of progress as a shaman. He was not worthy of her then, and would never be at this pace. That resilient girl that held her little sister in her arms, through fire and darkness, against all odds and by herself, was growing by leaps and bounds each day, while he felt like he was standing still, waiting for the elements to find him worthy.

Grinning to himself, Grot finished one piece of his work and began on another. Perhaps this tailoring business wasn't so useless after all, he thought to himself. In his mind played images of the day ahead, chuckling to himself at the table. Speedily he tried to finish his work so that he could return to bed, and get at least a couple of hours of sleep before sunrise. Sleep filled his thoughts then, and slowly his lids closed until a careless pin prick awoke him to his late night reality. The blood soaked into the black cloth and he sighed, too weary to be angry.

Comforting himself he looked towards the bed, grinning toothily at his lovers form. Yes, he would prove it. Kali was not gone, he had not killed the little girl he so admired. No, never. She was merely awakened to her full potential. He repeated it to himself several times in his head. Her abilities were unchained, just like his were. Tomorrow he would prove it. Yes, tomorrow. He laid aside a finished product, and began another. His head nodding slightly in the faint candle glow as he murmured to himself.