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He could feel a strange warmth around him, familiar, barely recognizable, his hands grasped what it felt like tall grass, it felt smooth to the touch. He tried opening his eyes but an intense light almost blinded him and forced him to squeeze them shut. 

There was someone else nearby, a presence, familiar but somewhat terrifying.

He couldn’t move. His limbs wouldn’t respond.

“Wake up.” a voice echoed on his head.


Gasping for air Jormund surged forward and sat on the cold floor of his cage, black iron, sturdy… and… spiky? He took a deep breath and steadied himself. Everything was coming back to him. The ambush, they had underestimated Og’roc’s forces, the commander’s tank exploded… hopefully without her still inside it. The place looked familiar, Jormund took another deep breath letting the air feels his nostrils. He was no worgen but he recognized the smell, a mixture of damp wood, burning oil and worg shit. 

“Mok’gol.” he muttered. 

It was the logical choice, Og’roc had taken heavy losses. He probably needed to resupply and take care of his wounded after the battle. 

As he gathered his wits, Jormund took a quick look around his prison, he was caged inside a common orcish hut Jormund tried to move but a loud clank warned him that he had been tied up. His hands were chained together, his ankles were not and his equipment was on sight. Clearly the raiders didn’t plan on taking a prisoner.

If only he could reach the dragoons somehow…

Two brown orcs walked into the hut, opened the age and dragged Jormund out forcing him on his knees each keeping a hand on both his shoulders holding him down as another orc stands in front of him. Jormund holds his gaze returning him a deadpan stare completely unmoved by him or the fact that he was at the orcs mercy.

“Do you know who I am dragoon?” the orc asked glaring at him

“Dead meat.” the human responded dryly. 

The two orcs proceeded to punch him both in the stomach and on the face, Jormund leaned forward as air was forced out of his lungs as they proceeded to kick his sides. With a signal of their leader, they stopped. Jormund coughed as he slowly got back to his knees.

“Is this the part where I break down and tell you everything?” he grins at the orc mockingly and spitting blood at his feet “My girlfriend gives a better massage.”

He could see the fury in Og’roc’s eyes but he knew the orc needed him alive. By breaking the human he’ll know more about the dragoons, and where to find the wretched gnome that sullied her honor in front of so many. The only problem was, this human will not break.

“You will tell me eventually.” Og’roc grunted

“I have all the time in the world.” Jormund shrugged “But you don’t. My friends are coming for me and your head.”

Og’roc’s guards started beating him up again, punching and kicking his head and his sides, the shackles rendering him almost unable to mitigate any of the damage he was taking. Jormund forced himself to chew down his pride and took the beating, he could easily break free and take out both of the big orc’s thugs but Og’roc would run him through before he could reach the commstone to warn the dragoons. He needed to be patient and wait for the right time to act. Both the Warsong raiders and the Dragoons were licking their wounds and it’ll take them a while to recover.

All he could do was swallow his pride and wait.

He could take it.