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Culture Clash	By : Makkoska Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 7770 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Quite unfortunately, I do not own Wow, I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
10.
Blazing heat, defeating noise and stifling crowd. Orgrimmar was just as Ardel remembered it, or maybe even more hot, loud and crowded.
His first visit here seemed like ages ago. He had then enjoyed the orcish capital immensely, though feeling a bit guilty about it. He had just left Silvermoon, and had never been at Kalimdor before. It had been so different then what he was used to. His hometown was silent and elegant – it had never been highly populated, and was certainly anything but since the attack of the Scourge.
The habitants of Silvermoon always prided themselves for showing a sophisticated, elegant face outwards – never mind that since the destruction of the Sunwell, arcane addiction inspired some bizarre clubs and rituals. But as they said, what happens on Murder Row, stays in Murder Row – it was an unwritten rule of the sin’dorei of not to speak of their infatuation even in front of each other, and never before an outsider.
In Orgrimmar however no one seemed to be hiding anything. It looked like that from thieves and beggars to the Warchief himself, everyone was living their lives on the sunburnt streets. Orcs, trolls, taurens mingled with the Forsaken and blood elves and of course goblins were everpresent as well. On many languages and innumerous accents the various races of the Horde lived their daily lives, mostly untroubled by the happenings of the word.
Thrall’s policy – All is welcome as long as they are willing to build the Horde – seemed to be working despite its naïveté.
All seemed to blend in here pretty well, even the usual hospitality between the eastern and western races were much less evident. Several of the undead dwelt in the city, run their business here, as well as a few of Ardel’s race. He could understand them. Barbarian though the place was, it hold a rough appeal.
He was glad to be back, although after the long journey in the wild it seemed even louder and more packed full of than before.
It was a market day in Valley of Strength so they had to fight their way through the mob to get to the Inn. Zangah scowled at everyone who got too close and muttered to Ardel to watch his purse. She didn’t seem to like the crowd at all.
They stopped for a drink and for a strategic discussion after they stabled their mounts and got their room. Zangah wanted to check on some of her friends, while Ardel had to report to Master Pyreanor. Like it had been a different lifetime when he had set the elf to find out more about the Twilight Cult activities in the Southern region of Kalimdor.
‘Ok then,’ he sighed, running his hand through his hair, trying to prepare mentally to meet his superior in rank, ‘meet you here in the evening?’
‘Yeah, I guess. Sure you don’t wanna me to come with ya?’
‘No, no go and have fun with your friends. Pyreanor will probably make me wait hours before we can meet, the old bastard.’
And of course he did. Ardel wanted to use the time for some much needed meditation, something he neglected this recently, but ended up daydreaming about the troll. Pyreanor’s amanuensis had to call out his name a few times before came back to himself and followed him to his master’s study.
It was torture. Pyreanor kept asking for insignificant details and hinting that he was keeping back information.
‘But surely, Knight Silverblade,’ he said in a haughty voice, ‘you are able to tell how far from each other the camps have been in Silithus. You certainly spent enough time there to be able to.’
‘I’m sorry Master,’ replied Ardel, repressing a sigh, ‘as I told you already I had to leave the area in a hurry as I was discovered, so I didn’t had the chance to get all the wanted intelligence.’
Still the old coot started the questioning from the beginning again and again, until he was satisfied. What he was fishing for (other than why the journey back took so long, on which Ardel simply refused to elaborate) he wasn’t sure, but he felt that if he would be addressed “Knight Silverblade” again in that pitying tone, he will strangle him, damn the consequences.
He finally managed to excuse himself - Pyreanor wanted him to stay for dinner, as he said to spare him to eat out with “orcs and the other lot” - and get back to the streets. The city quieted down a bit since their arrival, and Ardel enjoyed a walk back to tavern.
He stood in the doorway, trying to find the troll, as the main dining room was packed full of guests by now, but only managed to spot her when she stood up and waved.
She wasn’t alone. She had another troll, two orcs and a tauren sitting at the table, all looking at him in mild surprise as he approached.
‘All,’ Zangah said, beaming at him, ‘dis be me partner, Ardel. Elf – these be me friends and me little brother.’
Oblivious of how the surprise changed to animosity on most of her friends’ faces, she pulled a chair over for the elf. Ardel glanced at her “little brother”, who had to be well over seven feet tall, though it was hard to tell with him slouched over the table. Reddish-brown eyes glared back at him.
‘Hi,’ said Ardel wearily and sat down. It looked like his trial didn’t end with Master Pyreanor.

-*-

Zangah roamed the streets of Orgrimmar rather aimlessly, thinking of where to go, where she was the most likely to find some of her friends. Vengeance clattered at her feet happily, if a bit over exited to have so many people around her. The crowed parted at the sight of the pink Silthid, making getting though the Valley easier.
She suddenly stopped still, raising her abdomen high in the air as when sensing danger. Zangah whirled around to see a tall, broad shouldered troll dash towards her. She just had the time to sign for her pet to stay still before she was caught in a bone crushing embrace.
‘Me can’t believe it!’ she gasped when he finally let her go. ‘Me little brother! What’ya doing in Orgrimmar? Have you grown still since I last seen ya?’
Desta grinned as he stepped back, straightening his back from the usual hunch. She was admittedly partial, but Zangah thought he looked really smashing.
‘Me couldn’t stand in da village any longer,’ he said somewhat abashed ‘and Orgrimmar holds so much more potential for me training.’ At Zangah’s questioning look he added, ‘Finally started to train on da way of da Shaman. With Gorrum. You remember him, right?’
Zangah remembered Gorrum the orc, who had been best friends with her brother, as a scrawny green skinned kid who had always been embarrassed in her presence. To imagine him as a shaman wannabe was rather hard, but she nodded nevertheless.
‘Me so proud ya little Desta! A shaman, as Mama has been!’ she said and been awarded with another charming smile.
He accompanied her, asking about her adventures and helping to find her old friends. It was good to be back and meet them again. The day was spent with talking, recreating the bond that was bound to be weakened over the years spent apart. When, at the late afternoon she told them she had to get back to the inn by nightfall as she was meeting with “someone” it got their immediate attention.
‘You have never brought back home anyone before,’ exclaimed Agra, who had become a captain with the City guards since they last met. She was a forceful orc woman with her skull shaved bald expect for a long braid. ‘We’re going with you to meet him!’
‘You can’t get rid of us,’ added Rayma, the tauren when Zangah tried to protest. She was expecting her first baby to be born within weeks. Her large, soulful eyes twinkled kindly as she pestered Zangah for more information. She had always been a big believer of “one and true love” and looked upon Zangah’s escapades with slight desperation.
‘Taurens,’ she had said on Zangah’s last with a frown as she had been listening to the recap of her encounters ‘mate for life. This world would surely be a better place if the other races would do the same.’
They gathered around her, her brother, Agra, Rayma. Gorrum met them as well, looking just as shy in Zangah’s presence as he had been as a kid, although he was now a fully grown orc. To the troll’s slight annoyance, they seemed more interested in her love life then they have ever been in any of her adventures.
There was no getting rid of them – as she refused to elaborate who was her “someone” they accompanied her to the tavern. Zangah wasn’t sure this was a splendid idea, but she reasoned that the sooner they were over with the first encounter the easier will they become.
‘But he be a troll, right?’ Desta pressed as they sat down in the inn.
‘You’ll see,’ she just said, which of course just earned her a lot more questions.
‘Is he a warrior?’
‘He’s not from another tribe or something, like a Raventusk?’
‘Is he a he at all?’ prompted Agra grinning, making Gorrum and Desta cough into their drinks.
It was a relief when the elf appeared in the doorway and she could at last introduce him.
There was a very tense silence. Rayma broke it in the end, standing up with difficulty because of her round belly and extending her hand to the elf.
‘A pleasure to meet you Ardel. We have been waiting all day to find out… who are you,’ they shook hands solemnly and Rayma introduced the others as well. Curiosity started to get the better out of them as they, with the exception of Desta, who was still scowling at the elf, started to bombard them with questions again.
It wasn’t what one could call a pleasant dinner, but it didn’t involve bloodshed at least. Zangah would have swapped it for fighting her way through the jungle of Un’Goro without a second thought.
The elf knew how to be charming if he wanted to be, and he got Agra and Rayma wrapped around his fingers pretty soon. Agra confessed to Zangah with a slightly tipsy giggle –she had kept drinking her ale steadily- that she found the elf very charismatic.
‘But ain’t he a bit… you know… small?’ she asked. Desta overheard and it seemed to be the last straw for him.
He stood up so suddenly that his chair hit the ground with a bang, shoot a dirty look at the elf, the type, if looks could kill, would have left him lying dead, muttered, ‘We need to speak about this in the morning, sis,’ and stalked out of the room.
That pretty much put an end to the evening.
Later, lying face down on their bed in the inn, Zangah muttered into her pillow, ‘I hate family gatherings.’
‘Wait until you meet mine,’ replied the elf with a grim smile, ‘and this will look like a walk in the park.’
She lifted her head at that.
‘That means me gotta visit Silvermoon?’
‘You might.’
‘Oh good. Let us be gone as soon as we can. Me will give Desta a bit of a sisterly beating, as he seems to forgotten his place and we can be off.’
‘You think that will solve the issue?’
‘Will certainly make me feel better,’ she muttered, burrowing her face once again in the pillow. Bloody bed was too soft – she was too used to sleeping on the ground. They had just arrived to the city, but she longed to be out in the open already. She felt the elf’s gaze upon her, but she refused to look up.
‘Make room for me,’ he said at last, as he dropped down next to her. ‘Let’s improve at least the end of this day, shall we,’ and pressed a gently kiss at the nape of her neck.
She couldn’t help but smile at that. ‘Sounds like a good plan for me, elf,’ she purred, turning over. And indeed, the end of the day greatly improved from there.
- 9
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- 11
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Culture Clash