Phone writing, large break in writing, and Warcraft oh my

I don't have a working computer! I've done the following with my phone. Usually the words flow fluidly from my fingers onto the word document, but I need a new OS install. I heard that the lady who wrote 50 Shades of Gray wrote on her phone, though I don't find comfort in that.

Also, it has been quite some time since I've worked on a fanfic. Here are two following segments, though they are far apart in the story. Opinions are welcome, like if it seems to be a well enough put together story... Unlike that sentence. Perhaps like, "okay an adult wrote this! One who is alright with writing, not Stephanie Meyers."

World of Warcraft or just Warcraft... Haven't quite decided yet...

.... Dagenbarth Bonedust straightened the harness that kept his limited armor upon his shoulders and chest. A heavy broad axe hung at his waist while a gloved hand anxiously ran thick fingers along the well honed and sharpened edges. Dagen had a thick mane of blue tinted dark hair that was kept in a loose ponytail, and he could feel the hair brush along his shoulders as the slight breeze moved it. Kona, the wolf that he rode, painted from being in sparse shade, but seemed most bothered by boredom.

He could smell the air was thick with smoke from blacksmiths and cook fires, signs of humans and elves preparing for the upcoming battle, and repairing from the previous one, too. Sun beat down on strong muscles covered by green skin that shone through the rather sparse armor. Dagen cursed in his head that he actually felt somewhat anxious awaiting a signal to lead the group of warriors that were behind him in an attack; orcs and trolls could smell such pitiful emotions like anxiety. They had already been waiting for over an hour and no signal had come, and if there were none to ever come from a higher rank, it was up to Dagenbarth’s discretion as his role in leadership to decide whether or not they should ambush the camp that was ahead of them at any moment.

Other orcs, strong and proud, stood behind him, along with trolls whom Dagen felt some kinship with. A few tauren dotted the group patiently waiting almost as patient as the unliving forsaken. The blood elves had hidden themselves so well among the foliage that even with his sharp eyes the strong orc leader could not pick them out, and Dagen felt annoyance that he had to be so visible because he was leading the assault.

Then came the sign he had been waiting for, a familiar troll with pale blue-green skin, fur long for a troll, and excessive piercings, dropped right in front of his face, from a tree branch much too small to hold the large creature.

“Dey be totally ready, an’ totally unprepared,” Paytah spat out with a grin plastered on his face. “An honorably but easy fight.”

Dagen removed his broadaxe from his waist and raised it above his head, letting the blade catch the sunlight as he did so, it would be a clear signal for quite a distance around him. Then he let out a warcry. The next thing he knew he was bounding through sparse trees and long grasses headed towards the Alliance camp, his wolf keeping him in lead. Soon his weapon would taste blood once more.

.......

The human girl curiously leaned closer to study the peculiar tusks protruding from the troll. They were smooth and thick as they thrust out from the flesh around his mouth. Feeling brave she inched nearer him and took a hand and began to draw it near the long ornamented piece of bone closest to her.

Just as her hand was aboattackouch the tusk, the troll’s eyes snapped open. With amber orbs probing her in the moonlight, she felt terrified at being caught. She was even too afraid to retract her limb.

“All the girls are always impressed by the tusks,” the troll stated with a smirk on his face and in his voice. She decided that he must have been feigning sleep very convincingly and she felt her face warm while finally she recalled her probing limb.

“You can look all you want.” it was an invitation that she took, she knew she would not see another troll so close unless there was violence involved. With curiosity still not resolved, the girl returned her hand and examined a metal ornamental ring firmly placed on one of his tusks.

Apparently he didn't expect her to suddenly continue to inspect the long tusks in earnest, as his brows rose in surprise, but he quickly regained composure. Her fingers ran over one and her eyes studied the gold wrapped around a small section of it. Lines of carving into the bone were faint in the length of it, but could only be felt and not seen in the night.

“Did it hurt?” she asked, voice a whisper for his acute honed ears to catch.

Sharp teeth formed his smile, “No… The tattoos, those are the ones that sometimes make men cry.”

A chuckle slipped past her soft pink lips. “Really? A tattoo?”

Valleria shifted so she could see his face better, the move letting the moonlight catch her sterling gray blue eyes. “I don't see you with tattoos.” the Troll observed. “But when a boy becomes a man, or first hunts, or many others reasons, there are tattoos.”

“Did you ever cry? How young of boys? What about girls?” Excitement shone in her eyes, and her voice rose with each question. Paytah decided she might have enough trouble sleeping as he was having.

He shushed her before getting up to a crouch and then helping her get up. “Grab the bed rolls. Follow me.” The human did as told. She did not make an attempt to flee, and as Paytah led away from camp aways, so as to not disturb the other's sleeping, they ran into someone on guard.

“Paytah!” a large orc greeted him with a slap on his shoulder. “Can't sleep? Or-” whatever was meant to follow died in his throat as Valleria quietly came with bed rolls and her blanket. She was walking more slowly than her much longer-legged counterpart, and had faltered to take her blanket in tow. The orc grinned, knowingly, “Plan for some one on one time?”

“You know it,” he replied in Orcish. Then in common said, “Never be alone with this one.” Valleria nodded, the orc scoffed, and Paytah chuckled.

Once away from the orc Paytah took his roll and laid it out on the sandy soil, gesturing for her to do the same. She put hers right next to his as she had done in camp.

“You won't get away from me,” he said, “you can put it where you want.”

Cheeks slightly pink, the girl nodded, but only moved her roll away about two feet. “So… tattoos…”

“You're not afraid that I brought you here for more than talking?” The question made her flush and then grow pale visibly for his acute sight and she swayed and lost balance. His strong hands caught her before she fell and he silently marveled at how soft her skin felt beneath his fingers. “It was a joke.” He stated, easing her down to her roll to sit before sitting on his own.

“Um, so, what age…” her eyes were still averting his gaze as she trailed off.

“Trolls can get a tattoo at any age for hunt or kill of an enemy.” His words brought her eyes back to his face. “A story is told of a boy who killed an invader who tried to hurt his mother, with only a cooking knife. He would get an honor marking symbol of ink.”

“And girls?” she asked him.

“They can get them the same way male trolls do, from hunt or battle, but troll life is different than human life.” Paytah shook his head while he spoke. His words were an indescribable understatement.

“I know that night elf females often are warriors.” Her eyes lit up at this idea. It seemed perhaps she could be dangerous given proper training.