Brick And Mortar

Part IV

Heart to Heart
New Gear
A Brick Through the Consulate Window
Farewell
Grom'gol
Al'tabin the All-Seeing
The Sweat Lodge
Spirits
Molthor
Mojo

Heart to Heart
Index: [Previous] [First]

Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman

Part IV Episode 1: Heart to Heart

I tried to tap on the door, but my fingers stopped before they hit the wood. I tried again, but couldn't, so I gave up and started walking down the steps. Then I felt stupid, so I walked back up the steps, and thought about knocking on the door some more.

Then I realized that asking for advice is stupid, because I should be able to work things out for myself. After all, I wasn't a little calf, anymore. So I turned around to leave, only to bump into Agra at the top of the stairs.

"Hello Brick, I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on," she said with a giggle. "Did you come to visit?"

"Yes, but I... I can... If you'd rather..."

She handed me a large burlap bag. "Hang on to the potatoes while I unlock the door. Come in, come in."

Agra seemed really happy. The Orcs are a very happy people, but Agra seemed to be on the edge of laughter. "How are your ankles feeling? And that bump on the head? Did you take all the herbs I gave you?"

"I feel much better Agra. Yes, I took them all, like you told me to. Thank you."

I ducked deeply and came inside. It was a pretty home. Not fancy, but comforting. It smelled of nice food and unfamiliar spices.

"Oh dear, our ceilings are just not tall enough for you. Would you rather sit?"

"Okay," I said. I sat down where I was.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Um... no... thank you."

Agra took the potatoes to the kitchen. I could hear her giggling from where I sat, but she stopped before she returned. She pulled a chair over to me and sat down too. "So you didn't need any more herbs, then what was it you needed?"

"I... uh..." Why was I having such problems talking? It's like I wanted to say everything and nothing at the same time, and the nothing was winning out. "I... wanted... to... ask your advice."

She grinned some more and waited for me to continue.

Gah. Why was this so hard? "It's about Kaja... I met her a while ago... and then again yesterday... and I... but I don't think she..." Words were coming out, but none of them were making any sense.

I took a deep breath. Agra wasn't helping. I thought that perhaps I was scaring her, because a tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away and pretended it was not there. "Perhaps I should go..."

"No, stay," she interrupted immediately, putting her hands over mine. "What is it that's upsetting you about Kaja?"

"She's... Tauren... but she's not... and I don't know how... because I'm not an Orc... and I thought that you... since you're an Orc... and a girl..."

Someone was coming in the door. I exhaled all of my air in frustration. Why was this so much harder than fighting with Goblins?

A burly Orc, smelling strongly of wolf, walked in. He wore a chain mail jerkin, leather pants, and a tabard of the Horde outriders. A one-handed axe hung at his side. He was young, like Agra. He kept his black hair short, and tied back in a knot. "Agra...?" he said, peeking at me.

In a flash, she was standing at his side, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Brick, this is my husband, Gorrum." I started to get up, but he put a hand on my shoulder to tell me not to bother. I shook his hand. It was such a little, tiny thing.

"Brick has a crush on Kaja..." she blurted out, as if the words were hot coals on her tongue.

"That's not true, sir! I would never hurt Kaja!" I tried to get up, but he restrained me again. He didn't seem alarmed, despite the accusation.

"No, she means that you would like to take our daughter out," he explained.

"Take her out where?"

"That you wish to date her."

"I'm sorry, sir?" I didn't understand the word.

Gorrum wiped his face with a gauntlet. Agra buried her face in the back of Gorrum's tabard and continued to giggle relentlessly. "You're not making this any easier, woman..."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Listen Brick, you should really talk to Gorrum about this. I'll go."

"Oh no, is it taboo for men to talk to Orc women?"

"Just... just talk to Gorrum..." she said as she rushed to the kitchen. I heard her laughter overwhelm her once she left. It could also have been the wail of tears. I'm not sure. Agra confused me greatly.

"Brick," Gorrum said, he seemed very tired, "I don't know if I can have this conversation with you." He flopped down on the chair that Agra had vacated. He removed his gauntlets and threw them down on the floor.

"I'm sorry. Perhaps I should..."

"I adopted Kaja when she was just a few months old, and by the time she was two, she was taller than me. Two!" He laid back in the chair and sighed. "My friends teased me that soon I'd be having this conversation with some young bull... That I'd sharpen my axe while they asked to go out with her... That I'd put the fear of my wrath into them, should they touch my little girl." He made a fist, and grinned wide.

"I wasn't ready then. Not even close. She was still the baby girl I held in one arm. By the time she was three, I think I was ready, or as ready as I was ever going to be. But by then she was a grown woman; smart, independent. By four, she had moved out and started her own business. Five... Six... Seven..." He shook his head, as if in disbelief. "It isn't fair, you know?

"I saved her life. We gave her a loving family. But did I cheat her by bringing her to Orgrimmar? I made a choice for her out of love. But was it fair?"

I really wanted to respond. He wanted me to say something, but I didn't understand what he was talking about. What did he mean about his axe? What wasn't fair? Cheated? Kaja's age? I couldn't seem to connect up these random items.

"How I dreaded this day... you can't imagine. I was terrified, really I was. I knew I would be more frightened than you would be. But there were no Tauren here in Orgrimmar. Oh, one or two, passing through, but this day never happened.

"My beautiful baby girl. Seven. That would be an old maid by Tauren standards, right?"

He waited for an answer. "An old... I... don't understand..." This was getting us nowhere. I needed to assert myself. "Sir, my problem is this: When I last visited her, she said that it was strange that I go to her shop all the time, when I don't own a gun. Does that mean that she does not want me to go to her shop? Should I buy a gun?"

Gorrum rested his chin in his palm. He stared at me a long time before speaking. "No Brick, if you don't need a gun, then you shouldn't buy one." He smiled and his eyes sparkled.

"Brick, what you need to do is go talk to Kaja. If she asks why you're there, then you tell her that you came to see her. Don't make up an excuse. You should tell her that you like her. You should visit her every day and spend every minute that you can with her.

"If she doesn't want to see you, then she'll tell you to leave. She's a big girl and not afraid to speak her mind."

"But that is not the Tauren way..." I tried to explain.

"Kaja doesn't know beans about Taurens. She's lived almost her entire life here, with Orcs.

"Do this for me... make the most of every minute you have, so that you don't miss them when they're gone."

Hey guys! I know it upset a bunch of readers that I dared to change the Tauren lifespan, and to do it so drastically. I know! You told me in the form of LJ comments, instant messages, and even in person.

Each time, I asked you guys to hold off judgment, and to wait until you had read through to the first episode of Part IV. Well, there it was. It's not justification, and it's not meant to be, but this is the setting for the story that I'm really trying to tell.

Was it worth it? Do you like the direction we're headed? I sure hope so. Drop a comment and let me know.

Regardless, Ky and I are headed to Huntsville in the morning, so that I can charm the pants off of my new, prospective employer! Will I be online this week? Will I be able to post more episodes? No idea. Surf my blog tomorrow, and find out.

---

There are 8 comments on this episode. Please post your own.

---

New Gear
Index: [Previous] [First]

Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman

Episode 2: New Gear

We made it to Huntsville and still have internet access, yay!

For what it's worth, Huntsville is really impressing us. It's a lot bigger than I had imagined. There's Indian, Greek, and even Jamaican restaurants. We found a pub, a museum, and across from the office? Dog training! They were actually running dogs through obstacle courses across the street. How neat is that?

I wandered for a while after speaking with Kaja's parents. I had spent some of my earnings on some new leather clothing, but most of it remained.

In the Valley of Honor, I found a shop called The Burning Anvil. Unsurprisingly, they did not have any armor that would fit my breadth, but the blacksmith, a sharp Orcish woman named Tumi, would not let that cost her a sale. Before I could say another word, she and her twin sister, Sumi, were measuring my every dimension for a brand-new set.

My knowledge of metalworking is very limited, but apparently multiple pieces of smaller, Orcish armor can be opened at the seams and the sheets of mail can be reused to make Tauren-sized armor. It would take time, of course, to make such extensive modifications, but not nearly as long as if they had to make my gear from scratch.

As I stood there, posed this way or that, I had a lot of time to contemplate Gorrum's words. It was not the Tauren way to chase after a cow. The Tauren way was to fight with the other bulls, and then the largest and strongest Tauren could then claim the cows.

But there were no other bulls here, and there were no other cows. Did that make her my herd by default? It seemed unlikely that it was that simple. There had to be more to it than that.

Gorrum had wanted me to talk to Kaja and to spend time with her. I couldn't quite understand why he wanted me to do that, but it was clear that it would make him happy.

I found myself thinking about Kaja all the time, and so I figured that it would probably make me happy as well.

From The Burning Anvil, I went next door to the Arms of Legend, where a bald Orc with a long, red beard was grinding an edge onto a new axe. I tried out the various weapons that he had in the shop, but nothing seemed to fit me. Everything he had seemed too small for my hands, and too light for me to really swing.

"I'm afraid I would break this thing," I said, handing back his largest axe.

"You would not, I promise," Galthuk said with a grin, "but still, it does not suit you."

The blacksmith did not seem worried. He had me lift and swing various heavy items he had around the shop and he tried to get a good gauge of how much weight I could manage. He handed me some bar stock and measured the span in my grip.

He seemed very excited to have been given such a challenge.

From there, I wandered back to Kaja's shop. She was wearing the oily apron again, and it was covered with tiny wood chips. She had a block of oak locked in a vice, and was using a two-handed draw knife to work it into the shape of a rifle stock.

She looked up, and gave me half a smile. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Your father said that I should tell you that I came to see you."

She stared at me blankly for a long time. Then she set the knife down and rested a fist on her hip. "You spoke with my dad?"

"Yes, he said that I should take you out somewhere."

She closed her eyes for a moment and gave her head a small shake, as if she was hearing things. "Where?"

I pulled up a stool and sat across the workbench from her. "I'm not really sure. He tried to explain it, but I didn't understand the words."

"Wow. I'm really confused now. Why were you speaking with Dad?"

"I wanted his advice. I like you, and he thought I should tell you that."

She gave me a genuine smile. "I like you too, Brick."

---

There are 4 comments on this episode. Please post your own.

---

A Brick Through the Consulate Window
Index: [Previous] [First]

Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman

Episode 3: A Brick Through the Consulate Window

Over the days that followed, I spent every possible moment with Kaja. We talked; we held hands; we shared our meals. We shared cherished memories of our childhoods. Just being around her made me feel good.

While she worked, I studied with Sayoc, the grim Orcish weapon master, and Sorek, the cynical warrior trainer. Sayoc trained me to use the axe that Galthuk had crafted, and how to use my size and strength to my advantage. Sorek explained the sorts of tactics that a smaller opponent would try to use against me. There were a lot of strategies to use and they were surprisingly difficult to master. It was very clear that this was going to take a long time.

Johnny made a wonderful sparring partner. He never seemed to grow tired and he never complained.

He was also surprisingly slippery. By the time that the wooden sparring guard on my axe got to where he was, he was already somewhere else. For a dead guy, he sure seemed to flow effortlessly around me.

Because of our relationship, Sorek nicknamed him Mortar. It seemed to give the rogue a sense of pride. I doubt anyone else could see that, but then again, no one spent quite as much time with Johnny as I did.

While taking a break from practice one day, a young Troll approached us. He was bald on the top and had a bright ring of yellow hair that circled his pate. He wore a long skirt of simple cloth.

"Greetin', Tauren!" he said, "Y'deh one dey callin' 'Brick'?" He spoke in surprisingly clear Orcish, for a Troll.

"I am, and you are...?"

"Arms master Sorek, 'ow goes d'trainin' a dis young warrior?" he called as my instructor walked by.

"This one? Feh. All of his muscle is located between his ears. He would not last a minute in real combat!" Sorek continued on his way, yelling at other pupils as they practiced.

"Ah t'ink he impressed," the Troll said once Sorek was out of ear shot, "usually he far more negative."

I offered him some water, but he declined.

"M'name's Searn Firewarda. I 'eard from an outridah dat you 'ad quite a tangle wit' dem Goblins."

My vision fell to my hooves. "Yes, I'm afraid... I hope my actions have not started a war."

"Wouldn't worry 'bout it," the Troll said. He seemed to smile, but with such large tusks, it was difficult for me to tell. "Deh Goblins dun go ta war.

"I could, 'owever, use someone such as y'self -- someone who can t'ink on 'im feet -- onna very impartant mission."

"A mission?"

"Yeh, dere's a very influential Troll known as Al'tabin de All-Seein'," he explained. "'E lives on Yojamba Isle, in de contested territory a Stranglethorn Vale. I would verra much like fi 'im t'come ta Orgrimmah 'n' meet wit' T'rall.

"If T'rall could win favor wit' Al'tabin, den p'raps more Zandali would cast dere lot in wit' de 'Orde, an' 'elp us in a struggles."

I was confused. "But aren't the Trolls already in league with the Horde?"

"By an' large, yeh," he agreed, "but dere a many tribes a Trolls, just as dere be many tribes a Tauren. Most tribes fight fi us, others still squabble 'gainst one anotha. Dis a terrible waste.

"Al'tabin's well-respected by all. Me hopes a dat we can improve our standin' wit' Al'tabin an' use 'is influence ta unite some a de squabblin' tribes ta fight wit' us, instead a 'gainst each other."

I certainly couldn't imagine myself as an ambassador. I thought that my job was supposed to be hitting enemies with an axe, not talking to foreign leaders. I had a hard enough time talking to Xon'cha! "Wouldn't it be better to send a Troll, such as yourself, or someone with some diplomatic experience?"

"I gone," he sighed. "Others 'ave too, but 'e views everyone we send as unwort'y. T'be honest, I dun 'spect you ta succeed, but if y'did, it could mean a great deal ta Trall an' de 'Orde. Will ya dweet?"

"It would be an honor."

And sort of like Brick, I got and accepted the job. I'm an emotional wreck now.

The real trauma begins on Friday -- trying to sell the house and pare down our possessions to the bare essentials so we don't have to move excess. Anyone out there need a truck? A bicycle? A cat? Art supplies? Power tools? Cooking gadgets? Furniture? I could go on...

---

There are 11 comments on this episode. Please post your own.

---

Farewell
Index: [Previous] [First]

Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman

Episode 4: Farewell

I burst into Boomstick Imports, huffing and puffing. The added weight of my armor making the run from the Valley of Honor all the more strenuous. A wall of heat hit me as I entered. The forge was burning today.

"Are you okay, Brick?" Kaja said, clearly worried.

"I have to go," I told her. "I've been given a mission to Stranglethorn Vale."

The piece she had been forming clattered to the floor and she rushed close to me. "Stranglethorn Vale? But that's in the Eastern Kingdoms, across the Great Sea."

I'm sure she could see it in my face. This would take us a world apart.

"When will you be back?" I thought I saw her lip tremble.

"I don't know," I whispered, "The zeppelin leaves within the hour."

She wrapped her arms around me and pressed her heavy leather apron up against my armor. I embraced her too. I buried my face in the short fur on her neck. I could smell her sweet sweat, her worry. Though strong and powerful, she felt tiny and frail this moment. I thought she shook slightly.

"Please hurry back to me," she whispered in my ear. She looked me in the eyes and I felt like I could melt into that deep brown. "Try to hurry back."

Then she pressed her lips to mine. I was startled, but I let myself sink into the embrace. Her tongue was inside my mouth, touching, caressing me intimately. It was strange at first, but then wonderful. I pulled her close to me; one hand between her broad shoulders, and the other cupping a bare buttock, lifting her up towards my face. It was a moment that I wished would never end.

Then she pulled slightly away. "I feel dizzy," I whispered with the stupidest of grins.

She smiled and hugged me close once more.

If that was an Orc farewell, then it's a wonder that anyone has ever left.

# # #

And in what seemed like moments, we were gone; sitting with our gear in a zeppelin's berths. The engine sputtered to life and I didn't need to look out the porthole to know that Orgrimmar would be shrinking into the distance. I could feel it in my heart.

Between my thumb and primary finger, I held a small, braided lock of brown hair.

Hair is wonderful at holding aromas. On it I could smell the entire shop; her sweat, and even her tears.

When I could bear it no longer, I wrapped the tress in my bedroll, beside the simple necklace.

I laid back on the cot and listened to the Goblins as they bustled around the ship, calling out orders and acknowledging them. This voyage would be the longest seven days of my life. I knew that many more days would follow, apart from Kaja, but at least I would be busy then.

There was nothing more for me to do now than wait.

---

There are 2 comments on this episode. Please post your own.

---

Grom'gol
Index: [Previous] [First]

Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman

Episode 5: Grom'gol

I don't have much to share about the voyage itself. When viewed from the air, the ocean is as featureless as it is endless. No matter how awe-inspiring it may seem at first, the sea quickly turns dull; mind-rendingly dull.

I didn't know if any of the Goblins aboard were related to those injured at the Boulder Lode mine, and you can bet that I didn't ask. The last thing I needed to do was to give my shipmates an excuse for vigilantism! For all they needed to know, I was just another Tauren.

Oh yes, two other things: First... Not to be crude, but there is no graceful way to take a dump off of the side of a ship. It simply can't be done. The best you can hope for is to have to go at night, when you can have some semblance of privacy.

And second, when you go, make sure you tie yourself in. If you were to fall overboard, then there would be little chance that you would survive the impact, and even less chance that the ship would circle back around to search for you.

We spotted land on the morning of the seventh day. I was very relieved that an end to the journey was finally in sight, but I was not prepared for just how humid the jungle would be.

In the desert and the plains, I had experienced extreme heat many times, but the humidity here grabbed your lungs and made it feel hard to breathe. It was strange, really. You could breathe, but the hot, moist air made your brain panic, as if it feared that you were drowning. I was very glad that this sensation did not last more than a day, before I could acclimate.

Before long, I could see the crudely sharpened vertical logs that formed the wall around Grom'gol.

Grom'gol Base Camp was an Orcish outpost in northern Stranglethorn Vale. It was located on the country's western coast, in a large bay known as The Vile Reef. The town itself was little more than a walled fishing village, a zeppelin tower, and a healthy stream of supplies imported to support the region's troops.

Johnny and I disembarked the zeppelin and explored the tiny fort. Without a doubt, the best (if not the only) thing about Grom'gol was the food. Everything I had there was wonderful and unusual. They had all sorts of strange fruits and freshly-caught sea creatures. I left my leftover rations with my gear and ate until I thought I might burst.

When I could no longer bear the sight of fresh food, I made a few inquiries and managed to charter a boat for the next morning. With nothing left to do, I stowed my gear and spent the rest of the day enjoying the beach.

Everyone needs to play once in a while, and there was no better place for it than the surf. I had never seen such large waves before, and the water was warm and refreshing. Exploring the reef and sunning myself in the sand went a long way towards reawakening muscles numbed by motorized travel. It even took an edge off of my thoughts for Kaja.

# # #

At first light, we set sail for Yojamba Isle in a small fishing boat named Icense Yuutee (The Lucky Strike). The voyage would take us three more days north.

The boat followed the coast, and the captain, a charming, bare-chested Troll by the name of Ran, pointed out some of the villages as we passed. Some were friendly to outsiders and some were not. So traveling on the beach itself was a dicey proposition.

Even though we would remain within sight of land at all times during my portion of the voyage, we would not be going ashore. We would simply lay anchor and spend our nights aboard.

I was fascinated to see and learn more (this was the first time I had ever been on a boat, after all), but the ship continued to rock and sway excessively, no matter where I stood. I tried to fight it, but I could feel myself getting ill. Before long, I had jettisoned my breakfast over the port bow, and was forced to drop back below decks to rest my queasy stomach.

# # #

Besides the captain, the only other sailor aboard was an old, grey-haired Troll with a sunken chest. He spoke precious little and, to my surprise, he seemed to get along with Johnny quite well.

I spent most of my time with Ran. He was a fascinating and colorful character. He had a story for every occasion, and there wasn't one of them that I dared repeat.

However, despite the diversity of his tales, his stories tended to follow a fairly consistent pattern. He told me about how he would sail to a distant village, and meet a beautiful Troll woman who was amply blessed with an abundance of one attribute or another that Ran found pleasing. Then they would celebrate their mutual interest in ways that would vary from the gymnastic to the downright aerobatic. And then finally, Ran would retreat back to the seclusion of his boat to recover. This generally happened either in the dark of night, or involved being chased by a rival suitor.

Operating a fishing boat and sailing the seas seemed to be the least interesting things in a life otherwise filled with adventure and conquest.

On the second night of our voyage, Ran drank heavily of a local rum. I tried it too, but it had too strong a flavor for me to enjoy. The more he drank, the louder he became, and the more outlandish and improbable were his stories.

He told me of two Troll sisters that he had bedded simultaneously, of an Orcish infantry woman, and even of a young Troll man who lived as a hermit. I did not ask if the Orcish woman had borne him any offspring, but it hardly seemed plausible. I couldn't understand why he would even have tried.

As for the hermit... well, clearly there were things I did not yet understand about Zandali anatomy and reproduction. Apparently my assumption that our species really only differed in size and shape was... erroneous.

The next day, the normally sunny-spirited Ran looked quite ill and run-down. I felt so bad for the captain. I had presumed that you would eventually get used to the boat's rocking and swaying, but I guess you never do. It must make for a very hard life.

I spent much of the rest of the day thinking about Kaja. I was glad that she had been raised by Orcs instead of Trolls. Troll mating rituals seemed quite complex and I was glad that she would not expect such things of me.

---

There are 6 comments on this episode. Please post your own.

---

Al'tabin the All-Seeing
Index: [Previous] [First]

Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman

Episode 6: Al'tabin the All-Seeing

In the afternoon, we docked at Yojamba Isle. I paid Ran for the journey; and Johnny and I disembarked while Ran and his first mate loaded and unloaded supplies. From here, they would sail west for a few days and fish for tropical squid. After that, they would return to pick us up and then sail back South to Grom'gol.

Yojamba was a small island of little economic or strategic importance. It was, however, culturally significant to the Zandali. The Island appeared in many ancient Troll legends.

Here and there, I could see remnants and ruins of what must have been glorious ancient structures. I wished I could have seen what the island looked like millennia ago, when the construction was intact.

From the dock, I walked up a short path to the central village. I spoke with the baker, bought some steamed buns, and got directions to the central temple. I could really get accustomed to life on an island. The food was delicious, the weather was beautiful, the air fragrant, and the exotic, local birds were not only a symphony to the ears, but a feast for the eyes as well.

The central temple was the most "restored" looking of all the ruins. Part of the building actually had a roof, although it was clearly not the original. The floor was tiled in clay, and no matter how quietly I tried to tread, my hoof strikes echoed throughout. There were large gaps in the stone walls, but the jungle behind them was dense. The lighting was deeply muted, even now, at mid- day.

I found Al'tabin with little assistance. He was an older Troll; lean and stringy. He wore only a long, batik skirt, and a leather necklace that was decorated with crocolisk teeth. He sat cross-legged with his eyes closed before some great stone tablet. A pleasant, woody incense burned in a small, clay bowl beside him.

I did not wish to interrupt Al'tabin's meditation and I did not want to loom over the great man as he attended to his spiritual needs. So I took a seat on the floor and waited for him to finish.

And I waited.

At some point, I must have drifted off. I awoke with a start.

"Wa mek dere big Tarren sleep a mi temple?"

"Oh, I'm sorry sir." It had clearly grown late and the braziers hanging on the walls had been lit. I scrambled to my feet and stooped my head in reverence. "I was waiting for you to finish meditating, and, well, I guess I didn't get much sleep last night."

I hoped that I had not offended him. It would be awful to travel so far, only to alienate Al'tabin with my first meeting. He did not speak.

"I came here to ask you a favor."

He made a foul face and cocked his head to one side and then the other. "Mi dun know ya." He turned and began to walk away.

I hurried to keep up. "No, sir, you don't know me, but I know you. I know of your reputation among the Zandali. And I was hoping..."

He surprised me by stopping in his tracks. "New bizniss a dis?"

"Um, yes sir, new business, I suppose."

He nodded his head and continued walking.

"I was hoping that you would come with me, to Orgrimmar, and discuss things with Thrall."

"Ah..." he said, but he continued to walk.

"I know that others have come down here and asked the same thing, but I was hoping... I'm sure Thrall..."

He turned to face me, and fixed me with eyes the color of the sea. "Al'tabin nah dween what a T'rall tell 'im. De spirits tell Al'tabin what 'im do."

"Um, no sir." I chased after him again. "But Thrall, like you, is very wise. Perhaps... perhaps the spirits would like... you to..."

"An' oo you be, t'be so large? Y'tell a spirits wa dem wan'?"

"Oh no, sir!" I rushed to catch up with the priest as he stepped outside of the temple. "But perhaps... we could ask... the spirits... if they would like you to go..."

Al'tabin sighed loudly, clearly getting frustrated that I was so insistent. "Y'talkin' to a spirits now, eh?"

"Well, sometimes," I said, "doesn't everyone?"

I thought I saw him smile. He slowed his pace a little and allowed me to walk beside him. "De spirits... dey ansa when y'talk a dem?"

"No, sir," I admitted. "But sometimes, I feel like I know what I should do afterwards, even though I didn't hear their voices."

Al'tabin stopped walking. We were in a sandy area, on the edge of the village. The sand had to be deep as the trees did not grow here.

"Y'Tarren a spirichal people. Y'do what dem tell y'do?" He lifted one bushy, grey eyebrow. "Ya dweet when y'dun like what dem say?"

That sounded like an ominous question, but I couldn't see any way to back down. I had, after all, asked him to do the same thing. "Well, sure."

"'Ow a Tarren talk a dem spirit, Sleepy Bull?"

Gah. I really didn't want him to call me that, especially if he did go to visit Thrall. "We build a sweat lodge, sir. Then we sit in it and talk to the spirits from there."

Al'tabin stared a moment in thought. "A'right, ya mek a sweat lodge."

"Here?" He nodded. "And then I'll ask the spirits whether you should come to Orgrimmar?"

"Mi sweat witcha. Ask dem spirit what dem want, togedda."

---

There are 4 comments on this episode. Please post your own.

---

The Sweat Lodge
Index: [Previous] [First]

Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman

Episode 7: The Sweat Lodge

If Al'tabin thought that asking me to build a sweat lodge would scare me off, then he was sadly mistaken. My people are nomadic by nature, and we build a new lodge every time we move. I had helped make one many times before. Besides, in this soft sand, it would not take long.

I rented a shovel from a local shopkeeper. It seems that I do this a lot. I thought that perhaps I should start packing one.

Johnny and I collected up a pile of rocks, and then a large load of firewood. We arranged the rocks in a circle and built a large bonfire over them.

The fire was burning as we lost our sunlight, so I took off my shirt, and got to digging. You should drink lots of water before using a sweat lodge, but typically you fast, so I skipped dinner.

I started my construction by digging a ramp down into the sandy soil that was long enough to put me waist-high underground at the bottom. From there, I dug outward. I dug a bench seat on either side of the ramp so that I could sit chest-deep in the lodge, and I dug out enough floor space so that I could comfortably rest my hooves without getting them too close to where I would eventually put the rocks. I used the dirt that I removed from the hole to build up the sides. That way I didn't have to dig down nearly as far.

I only had one shovel and my axe was too large for him, so I showed Johnny how to cut down bamboo with a knife and a stone. I showed him the proper size of bamboo I'd need, and put him to work.

Bamboo turned out to be perfect for the job. It was long, straight, thin, and it bent easily into a graceful arc when you planted both ends in the sand. By arranging arcs of bamboo like the spokes on a wagon wheel, and then tying the shoots together with reeds, I quickly constructed a dome over the hole.

I sent Johnny up some trees to collect banana leaves and coconut fronds, and then used these to cover the dome. Traditionally, we would use heavy hides, but I couldn't see any reason that the great, big leaves would not work.

It turned out that the leaves were less ideal than the bamboo had been. They were light enough to let the heat out and a breeze in. I had to dig out additional dirt and pile it over the leaves to get a decent "seal".

We finished construction before sun-up and had plenty of time to rest in the sand before Al'tabin returned to the temple.

I think he seemed a little surprised to see the construction completed when he arrived. "Are you ready to sweat?" Without waiting for a reply, I handed him my water skin, and began shoveling hot rocks from the edges of the bonfire into the storage area at the bottom of the ramp.

When half of the rocks were in place, I stripped off the rest of my clothes and took a seat inside the lodge. The cool sand felt nice against my backside, but soon the hot rocks were doing their job and the air inside the lodge burned hot.

Al'tabin the All-Seeing joined me on the other side of the ramp, and I arranged my blanket over the entrance so that the light could not enter and the heat could not escape. I started to sing, low and slow, and then louder as the sweat began to pour down my face.

The Tauren don't pray to the same gods as do the other races, but I sang in Taurahe to the spirits of nature; to the rocks, and trees, and rivers. I sang to the seasons, and the elements. I sang to the spirits of the people I had known; the people I had respected in their lives, or whose deaths I regretted. I sang to Urlug. I sang to my grandfather, Huln Thunderhoof.

When I finally finished my song, the exhaustion hit me like a slap across the nose. I laid back against the wall of the lodge, closed my eyes, and let it all pour out.

And then, for just a moment, I thought I smelled something familiar; something just beyond the wet soil, and the leaves, and the sweat.

Al'tabin spoke for the first time. "Ya mudda's da be 'ere."

Despite the heat, a very cold shudder ran down my spine.

---

There are 1 comments on this episode. Please post your own.

---

Spirits
Index: [Previous] [First]

Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman

Episode 8: Spirits

"My grandfather?" I whispered.

"Yeh, Uln."

I felt my stomach roil. I wished I could see him, smell him, hear him; but no matter how hard I concentrated, I could not.

"What does he say?" I blurted. "Does he want you to come to Orgrimmar?"

I could hear Al'tabin sigh. It must be frustrating to sense what those around you can not.

"'Im say ya kyaan ask mi fi dis."

"What? Why?" I was confused. Why would my grandfather not want me to succeed?

"'Im say y'nuh ready t'ask me, bwoy. Dat y'nuh ready fi start new t'ings." There was a long pause. I thought he might not continue at all. "'Im say... y'mus fin wha y'sta."

"Finish what I started? But what did I start? What haven't I finished? Grandfather? How did I fail you?"

"You brought it with you, my child, this symbol of your failure." I know it sounds insane, but for a moment, it no longer sounded like Al'tabin speaking. For just a moment, I swear it was Huln Thunderhoof. "Ya kyarry dis talisman. Y'keep it a yeh bedrull."

"I carry it in my bedroll? You mean the hair? Kaja's hair?"

"Nah!" Al'tabin shouted. He said a string of words in Zandali. From his tone, I presumed many of them were expletives.

"The necklace?"

"Yeh, dat."

Al'tabin said nothing more. When I could bear it no longer, I had to ask. "Is... is my grandfather... proud of me?"

I don't know why it was so important, so suddenly very important that I received that validation. But I did.

"Ehh..." The pause was long and painful. I wished he would continue.

"'Im will."

# # #

Al'tabin the All-Seeing said no more. I sat there until I had suffered enough. Eventually I had to crawl up the ramp, pull on my clothes, and drink heavily of the water.

I passed the water skin to the old man and let him drink too.

He picked up the necklace from where I had set it, next to Kaja's hair, atop a banana leaf. "Dis?"

I nodded, wearily. "That's the necklace. He wants me to return it?"

"Ya took dis. Y'mus gib it back, sight?"

"Well, yeah, that's why I took it, so that I could give it back."

"Nah. Speak a lie."

"Okay, okay. I took it from Johnny because I didn't want it to be a trophy. I didn't think that killing that girl was something to be proud of. It was only after I took it that I felt the need to return it to her parents."

"Y'fel da spirits!" The old man nodded and stood on shaky legs. "Y'mus gib it back."

"But, I can't!"

"Ya gaan vex dem spirits?"

"No!" I shouted. "I don't refuse. I want to return it. It's just that despite how much I want to, the task itself is impossible. I don't know who her parents are, or how to find them. And even if I knew their names, I couldn't ask anyone. They wouldn't speak my language, and they'd try to kill me on sight."

"If mi 'elp ya dis, y'gwan gib it back, den? Y'gwan ease da spirits?" He studied me with one eye, like a raven. "Caa be done, but 'ard, radda hard. Verra denj'rus."

I thought for a long time. I could tell he really meant it. "Yes, if I knew how to do this, then I would. Even though it is dangerous."

---

There are 0 comments on this episode. Please post your own.

---

Molthor
Index: [Previous] [First]

Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman

Episode 9: Molthor

Al'tabin brought me to a local witchdoctor named Molthor. He seemed young, but he had a shock of bright-white hair that stood up tall from his head. He wore an interesting robe that was adorned with strange symbols, and he carried a long staff with brightly-colored feathers tied to the top.

The most stunning thing about Molthor was the bright blue mask he had painted on his darker, blue skin. It gave his face a sinister cast, and you could not help but want to look away when his gaze was upon you.

They talked loudly and animatedly in Zandali for a long time. I don't know what was said, but it was clear that Molthor was not eager to help. It was also clear that despite his protestations, Molthor had great respect for the old man -- and would jump into a volcano if Al'tabin told him to.

Al'tabin turned to leave the witchdoctor's thatched hut. "Mek a dem spirit easy, sight?"

I nodded. "About Orgrimmar..."

The old man sighed and shook his head. "Y'kyaan ask me dat."

I did not want to give up. "What about Johnny? Can Johnny ask you to go?"

Al'tabin gave the Forsaken a glance and then looked back to me with an expression of disbelief. He slapped me on the back, in a friendly sort of way. "'Im? 'Im nuh fit fi tek 'im fetters, Sleepy Bull. 'Im nuh fit a cut dem. Might be neva."

I wondered if he just didn't want to share a sweat lodge with the man. If that were the case, then I could hardly blame him.

Al'tabin the All-Seeing left, and we were alone with Molthor.

"Fetters? What are fetters?" I asked him.

"Dis." He gestured with the necklace. "Dis ya pāṇātipāto. Ties ya t'dis world. It a symbol 'ow ya wrong dis person in every inca'nation." He squatted down low. The Zandali seldom really sit.

"We're at war," I tried to explain to the Troll. "In war, people have to kill other people." A rationalization? Perhaps. I sat in front of him so that he would not have to strain his neck, looking up.

"Yeh mon, in war, y'ave ta dead some people. Dis diff'ren'. Ya dead har in dis life, an' in ya las' life, ya dead har las' life." He gestured in a circle to indicate that this was a cycle I was stuck in. "Nah kyaan bring har back now, sight, so ya gwan 'ave ta fix what harm ya done. If ya dun dweet, ya keep mek dis mistake... in all ya lifes.

"Bad juju, dis." He shook the necklace.

"But how can I return it? It's impossible."

"Ya got to! Y'done do dis, might be ya next life ya pāṇātipāto be somet'in worse. Ya neva be 'appy in dis life. Ya trapped 'ere. Ya gaan neva get away, long as ya leave dis bruk."

I rubbed my face with my hands. This was horrible. I didn't want to be here. I wished I was back in Orgrimmar. "So where do I bring this thing?"

Molthor set the necklace on the hut's dirt floor and pulled out a small handful of bones he kept in a tarnished copper bowl. He hummed to himself and shook them in his hands. With closed eyes, he let the bones tumble out around the necklace.

Molthor studied the positions of the bones and rubbed his chin. "Ya got nuff fortune. Heap a fortune, Sleepy Bull."

Gah. Again with the awful nickname. "I'm lucky?" I sure didn't feel fortunate.

"Yeh, heap a fortune. Dis place..." He smiled and nodded. "Dis place ya gaan tek a juju; is 'ere. Feelin' it. 'Ere in dis cont'nint."

---

There are 2 comments on this episode. Please post your own.

---

Mojo
Index: [Previous] [First]

Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman

Episode 10: Mojo

Molthor set about constructing a mojo -- some sort of magical item that would help me find where to take the juju (necklace). I hadn't eaten since I arrived on the island, so I left him to his work and explored the village with Johnny. There, I ate almost everything that was for sale.

Although pleasant enough, the locals gave me a lot of curious stares. I guessed that they didn't get visitors often, and Tauren were probably rarer still. So when I had my fill, I returned to the shore to wash away a little dried sweat. I hoped that it hadn't been my aroma that had been attracting the attention.

I don't know if all the races on Azeroth get as stinky as the Tauren do when we sweat. I hoped for their sake that they don't.

It felt really nice to get in the water again. I didn't swim much, but I laid in the sand and let the surf splash over me. I scrubbed at my fur where it grew the thickest, I sunned myself on the beach, and I thought of Kaja.

I wished there was some way to send word to her. I didn't have much news, but any tales from abroad of friends and family is always reassuring. Surely, it would be better than hearing nothing. Perhaps, when I got back to Grom'gol, I could find a traveler headed to Orgrimmar who would carry a message for me.

Some of the younger Troll women came down to the beach while I was there. They were dressed lightly, with only small bits of colorful material to cover up this body part or that. They were so very long and lean, like graceful, exotic creatures. I had thought that they would go swimming, but instead of getting undressed, they clustered in a group, giggled, and talked among themselves.

I walked over to them and tried to strike up a conversation, but that only poured oil on the fire. They giggled uncontrollably and several even covered their faces with their hands.

Women... Trolls... Troll women. Sheesh. They were all enigmas to me.

When I tired of the staring and giggling -- it didn't take long -- I put my clothes back on and returned to Molthor's hut, leaving them to swim in private.

The witchdoctor had constructed a small bundle of twigs and herbs, wrapped tightly with colorful string. Around the bundle, he had carefully wrapped the necklace. The mojo itself seemed simple enough, but the rituals to imbue the mojo with power... well, that was something entirely different.

Molthor chanted and prayed and danced and sang and brewed foul-smelling ingredients together throughout the day and the night. It wasn't until he woke me in the morning that he declared, "Done, dis."

I woke slowly that morning. I had to shake my head and scratch for quite some time until I thought I was awake enough to learn how to use the mojo. And to his credit, the witchdoctor was a very patient teacher.

"Close y'eyes. 'Old it out. Furda. Turn 'round slow. Slowa. Putcha spirit out, inna mojo. Feel it. Feel de spirit."

I didn't really know how to "put my spirit out," but I tried as hard as I could. I held my breath. I tried to push it into the mojo. When I thought I felt a tug, I stopped turning. I pushed on the mojo and tried to readjust just a little to get the direction correct.

When I was as confident as I thought I'd ever be, I opened my eyes. "This way," I confidently declared.

Molthor shook his white hair sadly. "Dat garl's folk; dey nah fish." He sighed. "Dere just ocean dat weh."

I worked with him for the rest of the day, but it was hopeless. Even with the powerful mojo, I was spiritually retarded.

When he could take it no longer, he threw his hands in the air. "Nah. Nah, mon!" He grabbed my gear and thrust it into my arms. "Ya kyaan dweet."

I know this sounds terrible, but I was secretly relieved. I am not a quitter. I'm not! But the task was daunting and try as we might, there's no relief quite like that of being given a good excuse to give up.

"Ya come inna da lights. Sun-up."

I sighed. "You want to try again tomorrow?"

"Nah! Ya kyaan dweet. Ya neva gaan be able ta dweet." I could hear the frustration in his voice. "Tomorrah, mi bring it. Mi lead an' show ya. Mi gaan mek ya put a juju back, e'en me got ta drag Sleepy Bull alla weh ta Starmwin'!"

He was screaming at me, really screaming. He sprayed my face a little with spittle. I felt terrible. I felt like 800 pounds of burden.

I didn't know what to say. I was as conflicted over going as I was amazed that he would risk his own life just to help me do this thing... this thing that I wasn't even sure I really wanted to do.

He shoved me towards the door. He shoved me again, and I was outside. There was something in his scary, masked face. Something like hatred, or perhaps just exasperation. It felt, somehow wrong to thank him; so instead I just asked, "Why?"

"Caa you, Sleepy Bull," I could hear him grinding his teeth, "ya mi fetter."

Hey guys! I hope none of you saw that little twist at the end coming.

This marks the end of Part IV, and so only two more parts remain untold. The next part begins on Monday.

Also, we are moving next week. It's not clear just yet as to how much we will be online/offline, but I'll continue to post as long as I'm able.

---

There are 13 comments on this episode. Please post your own.

---