The smells of rot and death, pollution and corruption, nightmares and waking horror, have been cleansed. With the aid of a recently acquired patron of the clan, a commander in the new Fire Lord’s army, Lord Lavalval, the purgation was a success. Filthy faceless and cultist bodies alike have been charred away to nothing but ash, burned to such a degree that there could be no way to even tell what these awful monstrosities and brainwashed followers looked like. And for the better, as our forests, and our family, finally start to heal and come together under the shadow of the canopy of Ashenvale, and not the shadow of the unholy Voidmonger. The forests are once again safe to explore and traverse, and we Ironwolves can finally, wearily, relax and recuperate. With blood and honor, kinsman. Make merry and celebrate, for you’ve earned that privilege! -Ghor’kosh Jerr’uuk Flamefang
The darkness was finally gone, the heavy atmosphere in the stronghold and Ashenvale had vanished. So many wars, so many fights, not only against the void but the ones who dared to question decisions during rough times, the braves, the fools. So many lives were gone, vanished, so many orcs who fought for the clan, for the horde, for Azeroth were now lost, maybe in the void, maybe some got to meet their ancestors. And she was aware. She knew about everything that had been lost in the clan, the real price of the war. She stared at the fire, sighing. It was such an expensive price and it haunted her dreams, the floating ashes in the air were a good reminder. She heard some footsteps, slow pace, lifting her head just a bit she found Gun'drash. Moltenhide, walking on his feet. The man who was supposed to die in the forge, with brutal scars, still unable to fight. But alive, and holding a hammer somehow, stubborn as always he will keep trying to get back to work. Not making any sound, Jerr'uuk standing at the gates. He swore to protect the clan, to protect her and there he was. The silent Burning blade acting like a real guardian, like the officer he is, motionless like a statue and yet, always alert. Sounds of the other orcs, the new and old blood, Ghatzu,Ril'khar,Karishta, the returning of Rachnee, Morwark running back and forth... The darkness was still haunting her, but the light was right in front of her eyes. The clan was the light, the future, they might have lost a lot but nothing would kill their hopes and dreams, they nothing would break their Iron will. Now standing before the fire, she looks forward to the open gates of the stronghold. "Kulgar, is this what you were always talking about?". And with a short sign to Jerr'uuk behind her, she walks to the gates and outside their base, feeling the ashes under her feet and going for a walk, for another glance to their territory, their newly reclaimed vale.