Ashenvale Forest
Netherbane Site of Lessons
Present Day

“I let the human live,” repeated Garikhan, staring at the weapon upon his lap.  “He fought well.  He fought out of fear for his brethren.  He fought because he believed that, if the orcs were freed, suffering would befall his people.”

Tharion listened to the orc’s story and nodded his head.

“Thrall, too, fought out of fear for his brethren.  Thrall fought because he believed that, if the orcs were not freed, suffering would befall his people.  The same belief on different sides of the blade.”

Garikhan sat silently for a few moments, staring into the campfire between them.  The memories of his past always churned in his aging mind when he told these stories.  Some were pleasant.  Most were not.  But all were important.

“Orcs and humans had been fighting for so long.  It is strange, then, that only recently have we begun to discover the truth about both of us.  Such is the way.”

Tharion tilted his head in curiosity.  “Elaborate on this ‘way’.  Please.”

Garikhan nodded his head and continued his story.

***

Orc Encampment
The Assault Upon Durnholde

Blood poured down his face and his bones ached, but Garikhan stood his ground against the humans.  The one called “Blackmoore” had apparently murdered another human in cold blood in front of Thrall, and this act had set the shaman into a thunderous rage.

War had followed.

Garik swung his weapon widely, fending off two raven-crested knights with the massive warblade.  One quickly stepped in behind the wide arc in an attempt to stab the battered orc with his longsword.  He missed due to his hastily attempted strike and was quickly met with the sword’s hilt to his face.  That brought the odds back down–one fresh human against one bloodied orc.

The second human struck quickly, thrusting his longsword forward at Garikhan’s mid-section.  The orc parried the strike and stumbled closer to the knight.  A heavy punch to the armored warrior’s breastplate sent him sprawling to the ground.  The human returned to his feet faster than an armor-laden man should, and Garikhan nodded in respect at his prowess.

Unexpectedly, a blow from behind knocked Garikhan to the ground.  Through his blurred vision the orc saw another human, larger than the first, grin down at him through a thick plate helm.  A bloody hammer sat upon his shoulder.  The former blademaster’s vision blurred, turning the world into a swimming haze.

The larger human looked at the first and said something in Common unintelligible to Garikhan’s untrained ear before lumbering off to another pocket of fighting.  The first human, still standing tall over the orc, pointed the tip of his sword at Garikhan’s throat.

Today I die. Garikhan closed his eyes and awaited the killing stroke.

After a long moment, it never came.  Garikhan Fireblade opened his swollen eyes and saw the blurry human still standing above him, but instead of an extended sword, there was an extended hand.  Wary, Garikhan just stared at his opponent.

The human, after was seemed like an eternity, finally withdrew his extended hand and gave a clumsy orcish salute.  He spoke one simple word in Common that Garikhan understood.

“Honor.”

With that, the human turned and joined the rest of his brethren.

***

Ashenvale Forest
Netherbane Site of Lessons
Present Day

“It was the same warrior I had let live weeks before,” said Garikhan.  “It was his way of showing me that he, too, understood the necessity of honor amongst warriors.”

Tharion Greyseer again nodded his head as he listened to the blademaster’s tale.  “Did you discover what happened to this human?”

“I did, indeed, night elf,” stated Garikhan simply.  “We met one last time years later.”

***

Kalimdor
Mount Hyjal
Before The Battle for Mt. Hyjal

Garikhan looked over the fields of prepared warriors.  Human and orc, troll and elf–old hatreds were put on hold this day.  Even new alliances found themselves solidified as the nomadic tauren stood tall against the oncoming danger.  A greater threat loomed on the horizon–a horizon that burned the sky with the sickly green of felfire.  The Burning Legion approached.

“It is good to see you are still alive, friend,” came a human voice from behind him.  Garikhan turned to see a middle aged man with shortened black hair.  Streaks of gray dusted his temples, a sign that he was on the downward slope of his life.

The orc’s grasp of Common had increased greatly over the past few years.  “Do we know each other, human?”  Garikhan inclined his head as he asked the question.

The human shook his head.  “Brothers on the battlefield only.  My name’s Archaies.”

“Explain yourself … Archaies.”  The name felt alien to say.  It was too soft, especially for a warrior.  “How do you know of me?”

The man smiled once again and slapped his fist to his heart in an orcish salute before speaking one word.  “Honor.”

Garikhan’s eyes widened at the gesture before quickly returning the salute.  “It is you…”

“It is.”  Archaies extended his hand towards Garikhan, similar to what he had done upon their last encounter.  “Would you honor me by telling me your name?”

Garikhan clasped the human’s hand in his own and shook it, as he had seen humans do before.  The motions were also alien to him.  “They call me Garikhan Fireblade.  Formerly of the Burning Blade clan.”

Archaies bowed at the waist at the introduction.  “We have met twice before on the field of battle, and both times we have survived due to each other’s actions.  I hope to repeat that today.”

Garikhan nodded his head and grimaced, turning back to the burning horizon.  “The Legion approaches, Archaies.  Are you and your people prepared?”

Archaies stepped up next to Garikhan and looked towards the same horizon, nodding his head.  “As ready as any of us.”

***