Note: Yay, peaceful simple dialogue and learning.
The Netherwing, Part 1
Some people would choose to ignore the wonder that was Zangarmarsh, or at least let it dull against your senses, but not you. After all, you've spent the whole of your life in Nagrand, and so the massive change is one you relish in. Smelling the new scents, listening to the new sounds, tasting the moisture on the air and the crackle of electricity from the heads of the spindly and alien looking stalkers of the land, all of it is something you enjoy. Kaz chose to stay home, intending to have your child as close to the Throne of Elements as possible, while Garrosh is busy at Oshu'gun. As for your closest friend, he is off working on some kind of spell that would let him teleport. He has the knowledge of its existence, just not how it works. The first few attempts left one of his apprentices missing an arm into nothingness, so that's pretty scary on its own.
Still, you could not come entirely alone. A small group of Garadar Guard have come with you to ensure that the Netherwing don't kill you without a fight. Oh, you have little doubt that you could defend yourself heartily if the dragons chose to slaughter you all. But the Netherwing are dragons, and the tales of the immense destruction that a single adolescent dragon could accomplish on the armies of its master or by its own will are quite extensive. It seems Doomhammer enjoyed using his enslaved creatures quite a lot against the Alliance. The bastard. Mmph, Dranar wriggles beneath you, sensing your distress, and lets out a comforting whuff. Right, you can't let yourself be fully consumed by your hatred. Garrosh saw to that. If it weren't for him counseling you to move on, to let the spirits and the Light salve the wounds you were admittedly purposefully opening upon yourself, you might otherwise end up becoming something you'd hate. Or that Kaz would hate, which might be worse.
Regardless, you ride towards the territory of the Netherwing, marked out by those strange large crystals that form a visible territory line. The crystals are partially see through, crackle with energy every now and then, and if you close your eyes you can even hear them hum. In the air above fly small groups of the dragons of various sizes, easily floating upon the magic infused air of the world. Down below, farther into the mushroom 'trees', you see flocks of the little hatchlings with their curiously round bodies and tiny wings that should surely not be able to lift them. At the largest two crystals however, stand two large dragons who are clearly mature, and so you raise your hand and call for a halt of your small train of warriors.
Something not quite smoke rises from the nostrils from the one on the left, who eyes you suspiciously. The one on the right, however, shakes themselves slightly as they rise to their full arching height. The fact that they are somewhat translucent, all of them in some manner or another, is just another thing that interests you on a broader level. You aren't just some dumb fighter who only lives for combat, something Kaz especially seems to enjoy…ah, but you can't be distracted by thoughts of your mate and child right now.
"The Matriarch told us of your coming, Dranosh Saurfang. Karynaku requests your presence at the lake's edge. The others…may come as well."
You are led past the barrier, and nearly gasp at the number of dragons that are present. Over a hundred that you can see with the naked eye, some in the sky, some dozing along the ground, and after you pass more mushroom trees for a few minutes you can see some diving into the lake and flying back out again with full grown hydras thrashing in their jaw's grips. It's…very peaceful, though you can feel the sensation of many eyes upon you indeed.
Then, you see her. One of the largest dragons, peacefully laying at the very edge of the lake. Before you get within twenty feet of her she rises, and turns to you. Before your very eyes, her form shifts and in a shimmer of magic where before there was a massive Netherwing dragon there is an orc woman with a slight blue tint to her skin. She nods her head to you, and gestures towards a small patch of especially soft looking grass. A large – small to a dragon you suppose – spit with several haunches of what smells like cooked hydra roasts over a large fire.
"Greetings, Matriarch Karynaku," you bow your head. This is her family's home, and she has offered you one of the greatest honors in orcish society, earnest hospitality. You can only hope you are able to respond in kind.
"Warchief Saurfang," a slightly echoing voice responds in perfect orcish, "welcome to our home," she smiles at all of you.
Without speaking, one of your warriors, by the name of Gurak, steps forward, having been chosen for the prestigious position of carrying your own offerings. It is your way, to offer what you can in return for being allowed into another's dwelling under such circumstances.
"Mighty Karynaku, we humble Mag'har offer you what we can, a set of our finest carvings and what we hope is a satisfactory cut from a hunt against a prime clefthoof," Gurak unloads his back and offers them to the dragon matriarch with head bowed low.
Her eyes widen slightly in surprise, though she swiftly takes ahold of the offered haunch of meat, wrapped lovingly by the huntress who slew the beast.
"Clefthoof you say. We have never eaten such a beast before," she admits before carefully placing the meat close to the fire, before taking the necklace and examining it. "And this necklace is exquisite, thank you. Please, partake of our fire and our meat."
Ritual exchange done, you all approach and sit down, accepting the rather charred hydra meat. It isn't the tastiest you've ever had, but it's the meatiest fare that Zangarmarsh has to offer.
"Thank you for coming, Warchief, I admit I had not known if you would actually come."
"Why would I not? The chance for peace between our peoples is one I could not pass up. Too much of this world cries out for battle, and I would not have it between us," you answer.
Karynaku studies your expression for a moment before passing one of the Clefthoof cuts through the fire. The blue-brown skin of her current form seems unaffected by being enveloped by the flames. After a short moment, she passes the meat to her mouth and takes an enormous bite. She smiles brightly at the taste.
"That is good. Hydra does grow so monotonous after a while. As for your wishes, I agree. We are new to this world, and much of our first introductions were by way of violence. I am interested indeed in the Mag'har. Others," she waves her hand in the general direction of her brood, "are far more suspicious of you. Though you are not the same as the redskins who sought to enslave us in Shadowmoon Valley, you are similar in that you are both orcs."
What?
"The Horde sought to enslave you??" you hiss in surprise. Murmurs from the rest of your orcs are audible as well.
"Is that what they are called?" her smile and seemingly permanent smile suddenly flickers, "Then yes. This…Horde…dragged away dozens of my children before we could properly retaliate. The reason I wish for peace between your people and mine is because this place, this lake and whole are we have claimed…is the third home we've had. In the north, we had to leave as the war between the rock creature and the plant creature intensified. In the far south and east, the demons came. Now…we are here. The Netherwing are tired of running and fighting and dying. You are the strongest force I have seen besides the monsters of the north and the Horde, and if allying with you helps my people, then I would wish an alliance between us."
"I am sorry for your sorrows, Karynaku," you say sincerely. Being forced to leave from one's home, twice, is horrible. The fact that your people's dark legacy was partially responsible for that only makes it worse.
"We will find our way. The Netherwing always have. But our interactions with most denizens of this world have been through violence. Despite my mates insistence against it, I am hoping that through dialogue we may avoid such things. So," she pats her thighs to wipe off the juices of the entire haunch of clefthoof meat that you somehow missed her devouring in its entirety.
"Let's talk instead of fighting," and spirits there are quite a lot of pointed teeth in that not-an-orc mouth.
Choose What To Talk About First
[] History of Netherwing: These strange beings, where did they come from? They say they are 'native' to Draenor, but the stories and histories have practically nothing on them.
[] What Do You Want: What are the Netherwing's plans going forward?
[] The First Home: A war forced the Netherwing from the north. Why? What happened?
[] The Second Home: The Horde. Things always seem to come back around to the damned Horde. What did they do to push out all these dragons?
[] Write-In
