Giving Thanks

By Nerrok

Shortly after the events which conspired in Theramore had occured, Nerrok found himself hanging up his armor and weapons back in The Slow Blade. A cool bath in the Southfury river had left him calm, relaxed...Reflective on the night's events. It wasn't much long after he'd lied down along the hard red dirt that made up the store's floor that Krelle poked her head through the door, making her way inside. The two sat up for quite a bit, talking, conversing about what had happened...Even a few things that hadn't, or had yet to. One thing in particular, though, struck a chord with the orc hunter.

After the sound of her steady breathing and lack of motion gave him the impression that she was fast asleep in her hammock, Nerrok rose from his place on the floor...Quietly strapping on his gear as to not disturb her slumber. Steeltusk and Ironfang looked up expectantly as he made his way toward the door...The orc motioning for the large, black-furred Worg to come with him, while he pointed Steeltusk toward Krelle...The huge boar compliantly making his way over to where the hammock was strung, plopping down protectively with a low grunt. Nerrok and Ironfang then proceeded to make their way to the zepplin and board the vessel, traveling in silence aboard the ship, occupied by only themselves and the pilot...Propellors spinning quietly as they cut through the cool air above the sea.

Next thing he knew, he was climbing the steps that lead toward Sylvannas' chamber, deep inside The Undercity..Ironfang waiting outside of the entrance. Varimathras loomed over him imposingly, though the orc hunter stared back up at the monstrous demon, cool and composed, eyes narrowed.

"I'd like to speak with The Dark Lady, please", he requested, quietly though confidently, bowing his head in humility.

The Demon looked him over, from head to toe, with agonizing slowness. A knowing, wry smirk creased his darkened countenance, the look making Nerrok's blood run cold as he turned his head back up to meet the beast's gaze.

"Of course.....Hunter.....", Varimathras replied at length, the smirk turning into a full-fledged grin as he made way for Nerrok to approach The Dark Lady. With a nod of thanks he did just that, Sylvannas turning to him as he made his way closer. At length, he spoke, The Banshee Queen tilting her head slightly, with perhaps a tinge of amused curiosity, as she listened to orc's words. He kneels in front of her, head downward.

"...I don't know much about you, or your people. Just what I've learned from my own experiences. I don't pray to you. I don't worship you, like your Forsaken do. But...", he hesitates, attempting to choose his words as wisely as possible. He knew despite his skill in battle and whatever accolades he may garner from it, a wrong word in this particular chamber, surrounded by the likes of The Banshee Queen and her demonic servant would mean certain death.

"But...", he continued. "....I just wanted to say...Thank you. For listening to those that do." Nerrok looked up to her then, searching her unreadable face for some type of acknowledgement. The corner of the stunningly beautiful Undead Queen's mouth twitched into the smallest, barely noticable of smirks...Before her head would nod in an equally minute gesture. She said not a word. That was enough for Nerrok.

After this confirmation he rose to his feet, turning to make his way outside and away from the City's grasp...Not stopping to look back at The Queen or her hulking, winged servant. With Ironfang at his side the two made their way into the Tirisfal night, vanishing into the darkness from which they'd came.

Back in the chamber, miles below where Nerrok's boots treaded, The Banshee Queen's smirk turned into a grin.

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