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A fire flickered inside a cave, dancing to it's own tune, casting a red glow over not only the walls and ceiling but also the occupant of some months.

The occupant's skin was dirt encrusted and stained with dried blood: her own or another's, it was not clear. One tusk was missing, her nose ring no longer polished, her hair thick with grime, her finger nails broken and filled with mud. Her clothes, rags stitched together to cover up that which needed covering, are filthy and also stained with dried blood.

Her unusual eyes, once clear with no whites just a shade of blue, no longer danced with the flames, they were no longer filled with life. The eyes in those sockets were dead, cold and broken - their passion gone. They stared through the fire and into nothing.

Hours passed. The fire began to die down. The shadows on the walls grew longer. The light became cold.

The she-orc suddenly grunted.

Though her voice rasped and each word formed sounded as though she were putting in effort to speak she spoke with a tone of defiance.

"Come ter gloat?" she asked. Her head sank lower, her voice quietened. "Come ter torment me? Yer must be strong willed ter get yer voice heard by me in here"

There was silence.

"Yer 'ave come ter the wrong place" she replied to the silence. "I can't help yer. I won't."

Silence replied.

For a moment there was a flicker of an emotion on Mazguul's face: doubt. But the expression soon faded along with the fire.

Silence continued to speak.

"I ain't strong enough" the she-orc whispered once Silence had finished. "It be all I can do ter keep yer kind out o' m' head. The elements o' this cave be kind enough ter help me but if I leave I will loose m' mind again. Do yer have any idea wha' I have lost fer yer lot? Leave and let me die sane so at least I can spend m' last months bathed in the shame, hurt and pain I deserve - I chose the wrong path and I burned the bridges as I went. I burned all I loved. Yer lot asked too much before, yer ask too much now and I owe yer nothing."

Finally the fire died out and the she-orc sat, alone, in the dark.

"Nothing" she whispered in hate.

There I was, a-digging this hole
A hole in the ground, so big and sort of round
There was I, digging it deep
It was flat at at the bottom and the sides were steep
When along, comes this orc in a wolf-head which he lifted and scratched his head
Well we looked down the hole, poor demented soul and he said

"Don't dig there, dig it elsewhere
Your digging it round and it ought to be square
The shape of it's wrong, it's much much too long
And you can't put hole where a hole don't belong"

Well there was I, stood in me hole
Shoveling earth for all I was worth
There was him, standing up there
So grand and official with his nose in the air
So I gave him a look sort of sideways and I leaned on my shovel and sighed
Well I growled him a curse, things couldn't get worse and I replied

"I just couldn't bear, to dig it elsewhere
I'm digging it round co's I don't want it square
And if you disagree it don't bother me,
That's the place where the holes gonna be"

Well there we were, discussing this hole
A hole in the ground so big and sort of round
Well it's not there now, the grounds all flat
And beneath it is the orc in the wolfie hat

.... and that's that

At the end of the day I like a couple drinks when I raise up my voice and sing.
An hour or two with the fine brown brew and I'm ready for anything.
At the Wyvern's Tail  there were sisters four, the landlords daughters fair,
And every night when they blew out the lights I would chase them up the stairs!

I got the call from foreign shores to go and fight the foe,
And I thought no more of the sisters four though they cried to see me go.
I sailed away on a ship, the Doom Blade was her name
We'd all fall down when the rum went round, then get up and drink again!

I bore once more to my native shore, farewell to the raging main.
The Wyvern's Tail, it was beckoning, with the ale to ease my pain.
But there on the shore were the sisters four with a bundle upon each knee....
There were three little girls and a bastard boy and they all looked just like me!

After being away for a long time on her spiritual quest Mazguul just happened to wander into a tavern. While there, she actually learned another song...

As I went home late last night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a wolf outside the door where my old wolf should be
Well, I called m' mate and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that wolf outside the door where my old wolf should be?

Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool,
So drunk you can not see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before!

And as I went home late last night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Well, I called m' mate and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be?

Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool,
So drunk you can not see
That's a wool blanket that me mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before!

And as I went home late last night drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Well, I called m' mate and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be?

Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool,
So drunk you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before!

And as I went home late last night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Well, I called m' mate and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be?

Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool,
So drunk you can not see
They're two lovely cooking pots me mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But laces in cooking pots I never saw before!

And as I went home late last night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called m' mate and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be?

Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool,
So drunk you can not see
That's a little male pup that me mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a male pup with his whiskers on sure I never saw before!

And as I went home late last night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two hands upon her breasts where my old hands should be
Well, I called m' mate and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them hands upon your breasts where my old hands should be?

Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool,
So drunk you can not see
That's a lovely night gown that me mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But fingers in a night gown sure I never saw before!

As I went home late last night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a lad sneaking out the back, a quarter after three.
Well, I called m' mate and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who was that lad sneaking out the back a quarter after three?

Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool,
So drunk you can not see
That was just the elven emissary that the Warchief sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But an elf who can last till three sure I've never seen before!

(( Based on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8Hb5nzwE4I ))

(( OOC - a little story to add depth to http://orcsoftheredblade.com/forum/index.php/topic,2658.0.html ))

__________________________________________________________________

Mazguul growled quietly to herself as she wrote on parchment for the fifth time. Copying out the same letter so many times was becoming tedious and dull. Worse, her fingers were beginning to get sore.

Orcs of the Tribe!

Recently a bowl has come into my possession, brought to me by Varog'gor Greggar Ironfoot. I know for truth that this bowl is from the orginal Red Blade Clan and with the correct 'key' it can bring us much knowledge of time past. This key eludes me.

Upon the bowl is an inscription which reads: Fire Ice Lightning Life . Blood Oshu'gun Wilds Lore . Ancestors Nagrand Draenor . Storm Peak Inferno Rain Ice Thunder . Spirit Peak Earth Air Kalimarg Stone . Oshu'gun Fire .  Tempest Hunt Element .  Water Oshu'gun Life Flame . Cloud Union Lightning Tornado .

If any orc an tell me what this means then I and the rest of the Tribe would truely be in your debt.

High Blade Mazguul Sharpeye

With a sigh of relief the she-orc placed down the quill on the floor of the cave next to her and slowly got to her feet. It took a while to stand, for she had been sitting and writing on her lap for what seemed like hours. With a wave of her hand the fire that lit the cave in a soothing glow slowly died, a smile of thanks was directed at the fire pit, her eyes then drifted to the tarnished bowl Greggar had brought to her.

It was... unremarkable to look at. A faded symbol of the Red Blade's was set in the middle. From it's edges words were engraved in concentric circles towards the centre. It was made from some... draenoric version of brass she assumed judging by the colour of the metal.

However when Mazguul went near the bowl it filled the spirit-listener head with whispers. She knew the bowl wished to tell it's story. She knew that once the words were 'solved' then whatever spirit was clinging to the bowl would do just that. How she knew she did not know she simple... knew.

For a while longer she started at the bowl before she reached a hand down the the cave floor to pick up the other neatly written parchments. One of the Crossraods, one for Ratchett, one for Razor Hill, one for Orgrimmar and one to cast out on the wind to let the air spirits decide it's destination.

"And now to pin these up in the hopes a Tribe Member will see them" Mazguul said to the air as she paced towards the mouth of her cave and into the air of the Barrens. "A swift answer would also be... nice" she added.

For a moment the she-orc stood still, listening perhaps before a broad smile curled its way round her single tusk. The top parchment she held out and allowed to flutter off into the wind

"It will end up where it does, Ravage. Trust in the elements" the she-orc smirked, the one she was speaking to still not being seen. "Guard the cave, I will be a while. Gug'ye"

And with that Mazguul ran into the wilderness of the Barrens to head for the Crossroads to pin up the first of the parchments.

____________________________________________________________

(( OOC - Below is a picture of the bowl for bored souls to decipher! ))



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[Orcs of the Tribe!]

Orcs of the Tribe!

Recently a bowl has come into my possession, brought to me by Varog'gor Greggar Ironfoot. I know for truth that this bowl is from the orginal Red Blade Clan and with the correct 'key' it can bring us much knowledge of time past. This key eludes me.

Upon the bowl is an inscription which reads: Fire Ice Lightning Life . Blood Oshu'gun Wilds Lore . Ancestors Nagrand Draenor . Storm Peak Inferno Rain Ice Thunder . Spirit Peak Earth Air Kalimarg Stone . Oshu'gun Fire .  Tempest Hunt Element .  Water Oshu'gun Life Flame . Cloud Union Lightning Tornado .

If any orc an tell me what this means then I and the rest of the Tribe would truely be in your debt. Come seek me out as soon as you can with the answer or for a look at the bowl yourself.

Fire in the blood!

High Blade Mazguul Sharpeye

[The Quillboar Song]

After getting rather drunk Mazguul serenaded a few orcs with 'The Only Song Mazguul Knows'

Since she only sang the short version I thought I'd re-post the full one - my apologise if any offence is caused by the language.

 

The Quillboar Song

  Bestiality sure is a fun thing to do
    But I have to say this as a warning to you:
    With almost all animals, you can have ball
    But the Quillboar can never be buggered at all!
   
    The spines on his back are too sharp for an orc
    They'll give you a pain in the worst place they ought
    The result I think you'll find will appal:
    The Quillboar can never be buggered at all!

    You can bugger the bear, if you do it with care,
    In the winter, when he is asleep in his lair,
    Though I would not advise it in spring or in fall-
    But the Quillboar can never be buggered at all!

    Mounting a horse can often be fun
    A huge kodo too; though he weighs half a ton
    Even a mouse, though his hole is quite small,
    But the Quillboar can never be buggered at all.

    Ravishing a cow while she goes moo-moo
    Will be entertaining to both her and you
    Or you might try a tiger, if you have enough gall
    But the Quillboar can never be buggered at all.

    A fish is refreshing, although a bit wet
    And a cat or a wolf can be more than a pet
    Even a giraffe, though it's ever so tall
    But the Quillboar can never be buggered at all.
   
    You can order or shoo 'im, or run a knife through 'im
    The one thing you cannot do is stick it to 'im.
    If you try to seduce 'im, you'll end in a fix,
    His prickles defend him against rampant pricks.

    You'll find that the Quillboar has hundreds of prickles,
    To other Quillboar those spines merely tickle,
    If buggering Quillboar is what gets you raving,
    Just remember that first of all you'll have to shave him,
   
    Else the spines on his back are so grom-damned thick
    You'll end up with naught but a perforate prick.
    Forgetting to pluck them has led to the call
    That a Quillboar can never be buggered at all!

    At the end of the day, when you've had your rough way
    With all of those creatures, you'll just have to say
    "That damned prickly beastie has been my downfall!"
    For the Quillboar can never be buggered at all!

[Wednesday, 3 March, 21:00Steamweedle Port, Tanaris]

A neatly written note, though written on a shabby bit of hide, has been nailed to the outside of Guldujenu's Tavern. It reads:

Orcs of the Red Blade Tribe,

The word 'ritual' does not get used often enough I feel. As such I propose that rather than keep these things behind closed curtains, as we so often do, that the Tribe as a whole should be invited to attend. This is that invitation.  

One the third day of the coming month, at the ninth horn at dark, a ritual will be performed. Its purpose is to attempt to loosen the grip of the demonic taint upon a member of the Tribe. All those willing to attend are more than welcome to do so and I am sure the Spirits would look more favourably upon the Tribe for sacrificing your time to them. I look forward to seeing you at Steamweedle Port for the very short walk to the ritual site.

Nag'Ogar Mazguul Sharpeye

P.S. Mead, or any other alcoholic beverage for that matter, is banned due to this being a serious matter... and that I'm not allowed it. I do not see why any other orc should enjoy themselves if I can not.

((Wednesday, 3 March, 21:00
Steamweedle Port, Tanaris ))


******************************************

(( OOC: just a short little thing I have put together for a certain little orcie. While it was originally to be done in secret I have decided to open it up for anyone to come along. The more the merrier!

Ah, and if a shaman could volunteer themselves to help me out on a small part of it then I would be eternally grateful! ))

[OOC: As requested by Claws, I have decided to actually do a 'Mazzy Saga'. I'll try to update it regularly so that those curious few can keep an eye on what the she-orc is up to during the long weeks away from the tribe (if I had more time I really would be online more). Some might be short entries, others might be essays. Just remember this is purely for my amusement and it's also a good way for me to remember what happened to the nutter]

(( OOC: As requested by Claws, I have decided to actually do a 'Mazzy Saga'. I'll try to update it regularly so that those curious few can keep an eye on what the she-orc is up to during the long weeks away from the tribe (if I had more time I really would be online more). Some might be short entries, others might be essays. Just remember this is purely for my amusement and it's also a good way for me to remember what happened to the nutter

Let this be the first of many.... ))

Mazguul stared into the depths of her pint glass which seemed to worry the Goblin that was cleaning up the empty glasses at the Inn in Ratchett.

He's seen the she-orc come in here for years. Some times alone, occasionally with a group of orcs wearing similar grab to her and infrequently with a troll. Yet he had never seen her not drink. It was normally something she started doing before she had even sat down yet this time she was just sitting there, and had been for almost four hours. Her unusually blue eyes doing nothing but watching the patterns in the liquid as she stirred her finger round in lazy circles.

Worried that he might loose a valued customer, for few drank so much spent so much and never caused trouble, he approached her. Though he was sure not to get too close to the creepy transparent cat resting in the corner of the room Ravage sat up to growl at the goblin anyway.

"Um. Miss Orc?"

Mazguul grunted in acknowledgement though still didn't look up. "Wha' you want?" she grumbled eventually when she realised she would not get rid of the goblin so easily.

"Errrr... something wrong with the drink?"

"Nope." Came the short and swift reply.

"Right, right, good. So I'll.... just leave you to it."

Mazguul didn't bother to reply as the goblin scurried off. She had no idea why she was here, she wasn't supposed to drink, not 'in her possible condition'. The she-orc snarled at this thought. Oh she had really done it this time; 'it never rains but it pours' was something her sire had always told her. He was right. So right. Still, she sat in this Inn, as she had done since she had first found it, to pass the time and to see if Zandii turned up.

The she-orc didn't know what was going to happen to her and she disliked the unknown. She was fairly sure she was with pup and she had no doubt in her mind that they were not of her current mate but her previous. She didn't know how Vargosh would react to the news, for the last thing she wanted was to disappoint anyone. If she even was with pup, the spirits had been so unclear on the matter. And where WAS that damned troll?!

No sooner had Mazguul started to wonder where Zandii had got to, than a hand snatched the glass she had been stirring. Mazguul looked up at a rather young female troll.

"Whaz up, Orcie?" the troll grinned, flashing her yellowed teeth as she did so before taking a long swig of the pint. She smacked her lips and put the glass down firmly, keeping hold of it in her thin clawed hands. "Gobo sayed yu niid'd mi"

Mazguul snorted. "Aye, I actually be needin' yers fer once. Need yers to confirm a pregnancy" the she-orc said as she sat back and folded her arms. "Think yers can do it without killin' anthin'?"

"Mi bi good troll!" Zandii replied with a hurt look "An' who dat bi fr? Fr yu? Dat bi easi coz dem kitteh" she pointed at Ravage "sai twins for shur and shi bi knowin' dat type o'ting shi sayed. Bi tinkin' mabbay yu niid'd ti hear it fr'm mi before believin'."

Mazguul blinked. Zandii grinned.

In that moment the sheer weight of what was going on suddenly hit Mazguul. She had promised Vargosh his own pups and here she was carrying Osan's. While half of her was delighted the other half was dreading the consequences. She cared for both the Orc and the Mok'Nathal just as much as each other, really she did... but until she spoke to her mate she had no idea what to do. She wondered if just running and leaving the tribe was the best thing. Would Vargosh even want her any longer? Where was she going to bring the two little darlings up? Was it fair to include Osan in all of this?! Would Vargosh want Osan included? Who in grom's name was going to deliver them? (For one horrible moment the idea of Gruulg delivering the pups popped into her head). All these and a thousand more questions flooded into Mazguul's mind.

"Dat aside, yu readi fr tranin' wid dem spirits?" Zandii continued causally - that Mazguul had frozen to the spot didn't seem to put the troll off chatting. "Corse wi have ti stop when dem puppies com alon'. Liddle green uglies... yu bedder tell mi where yu gonna bi livin' wid dem. Can't habe dem with di lifestyle yu have now. Yu niid real home. Dems gonna niid dems fadder too, 'specially wid two. Orcie? Yu bi okay? Yu look cross. Summid I sai? Orcie? Orcie, Orcie, Orcie? Maz? Oi! Yu listenin'? Wi start makin' yu a shaman now? Dis bi aboud dem twins? Stop lookin' like you want to crai! Yur an Orc!!!"

*****************************************************************

Outside of the tavern, two little birds were sitting on a fence. Or they were until a shout of 'GROM-DAMMIT!!!!!!' from a she-orc sent them flying into the air in a panic of screeches and feathers.

(( And so.... the saga begins... ))

The heat was intolerable, though not as intolerable as the exhaustion that gripped the stumbling she-orc as her legs finally gave way from under her. She landed with a soft thud in a pile of ash, unmoving, barely breathing and seemingly alone.

Mazguul couldn't even remember how she had got there. She could recall shouts, she could recall rage and then nothing but suddenly being out here in the scarred landscape of the Burning Steppes. She had a funny feeling there was a fight. A battle perhaps? It was all such a blur and felt so long ago as to be insignificant.

How long had she been here for? Days? Months? It didn't matter.

A green hand twitched in an attempt to get herself up. But as her own blood leaked into the grey ash the sludge that was created stuck to her and made her limbs feel even heavier than they all ready were. Still, the same hand was forced to move where it snaked underneath her and she found the strength to at least get to her knees. In this ungainly fashion, her head swimming with dizziness not only from blood loss and heat but also the shouts and pleas of the spirits that haunted this place, she continued onwards on all fours.

The voices never left her alone. They were always screaming in her mind. Quiet when she had the mental strength to ignore them but right now she barely had the strength to crawl let alone force the spirits out of her head.

"Don't die" she thought to herself as she recalled the last words her mate, Vargosh, said to her.

These words brought her little comfort as all she really wanted was to suddenly feel him pick her up out of the dirt; as pathetic as it would be to be found like this at least she would see him once more.

A sneer came to her lips as she told herself that if she couldn't even make it back on her own she had no right to make it back at all. So the waning she-orc continued to crawl until she had nothing left to give and collapsed in the ash once again.

She lay there for some time in a world that was slowly growing dark and she actually found herself wishing death would hurry up and claim her as she was sick of waiting. She would have been content to die right then and there, doubting she would be found, until something forcefully turned her over. Annoyed that something was considering eating her before she was too dead to feel it. Mazguul opened her eyes to glare at her assailant, though came face to face with a very familiar face indeed.

Ravage, the spirit that had joined her for the hunt, had come to find the she-orc. The bond they had between them having drawn the cat ever closer, the blood trail leading her right to Mazguul.

"Come to..." Mazguul wince as her gut protested at the gash across it "...gloat?" she finished and slowly closed her eyes again, not out of want but out of not being able to stop her eyelids from shutting.

The transparent cat sat on her haunches and stared down at Mazguul for some time. Slowly the purple maned she-orc smirked.

"Ask 'em yerself" she whispered to the cat in reply to the beast's mental speech. "All yer kind have done fer me is drive me mad, what good is there in askin' fer help? Why should-" she suddenly inhaled sharply and let out the breath with a groan "-'em listen? Why should I bother? Never-" Mazguul was forced to stop as yet another wave of pain washed over her "- do anythin' but mess things up. Least this way I'll have peace and I be won't having to tear meself up over what I did ter Osan."

"Bother fuuuurrrr him" the cat purred. "Furrrr him that has you neow. Therrrr Vargosh one. Yes? Ask fuurrrr therrrr Vargosh one. We sense yourrrr feelings for him, be with him on this plane. Chance fuurrr you to take. Yes?"

Mazguul was so shocked to hear the words from the cat with her ears rather than with her mind that she forced her eyes to open again. She looked up at the spirit. The cat was bathed in her usual creepy green glow and stared down Mazguul with ease.

What did she have to loose in asking for help this once? Mazguul asked herself. Was there really any harm in believing in hope one last time? She had seen the shaman asking for aid. Why was it that she should not? After all she believed in the spirits more than most and they had rewarded her many times for her loyalty. Perhaps, this way, she could get back to her mate on her own and finally hold onto the Mok'Nathal again. She would ask, for his sake.

Closing her eyes, Mazguul opened her mind to the screams in her her head and asked as loudly and as respectfully as she could before the darkness consumed her. She left her fate purely in the hands of the spirits.

*****************************************************************

Later, if keen eyes passed the area, all they would see were signs that something had arrived on all fours and bleeding, yet left walking on their own two feet.

Mazguul, with the cat at her side, headed for her own with her sights set on a new path.

(( I know I said I wouldn't write any more of these but I wanted to. Just a little thing - unsure how far I'll go with this and how long Mazzie will be 'missing' for

Edit: grammar ))

Mazguul watched the sun setting over the river outside the small hut she called home in the Barrens. The river had turned a vivid red in the sunset as had the transparent Spirit Cat that lay by Mazguul's side - pretty in a brutal sort of way. Outside the hut, sleeping soundly were an old silver wolf, the ever faithful Bryaugh, and a small wolf pup, still unnamed.

The She-Orc's shaking hand lay on the cat's head, and Mazguul winced each time a hand spasmed or twitched of it's own accord. Her unusually blue eyes were focused on the distant sands of Durotar.

She liked it here in the Barrens, it was peaceful and so far from the wars that Mazguul had started to loath. Here, the voices in her head were silent, there were no spirit here to talk to her. In places like Garadar she could barely hear anyone speak let alone think for all the chattering spirits in her mind. Another place Mazguul struggled were mass graves where the spirits would beg to be returned home - Mazguul hated that she could not do anything to help them. Old internment camps, were always the hardest for Mazguul to walk around for there was so much pain there - Hammerfall had been torturous.

Mazguul was sure that if she had been trained as a Shaman she would not have such a problem.

All in all, this was a rather normal evening for her. Ravage, the spirit cat, was talking to her. All the cat's words fell straight into Mazguul's head - so once again Mazguul looked like she was talking to herself.

"Shut up" she grumbled at the cat "s'nuttin'"

For the past few weeks Mazguul had become even more reclusive and insular, completely insecure with her abilities... she couldn't even hold a gun any more without the fires of pain forcing her to drop the weapon after a few minutes.

This insecurity had caused her to turn down the chance to partake in Om'riggor. She could still hear Osan's words regarding her not taking part - he had been right, it would have been good for her to have at least attempted the rite of passage, yet she could not bring herself to embarrass herself so pathetically in front of the entire Tribe. Mazguul recalled a number of Orcs saying the same thing, even Vargosh the Mok'Nathal - it was odd in her eyes that any of them would make a comment, she was without honour or social standing, why would or should they care?

"I said shut up" the She-Orc growled again that the spirit cat - obvious the cat had said something to Mazguul again.

Mazguul removed her garments with her feet, she just couldn't use her hands well enough to take off her clothes any more. She stood with a grunt and ambled down to the river to swim, wading in and knowing that if a crocolisk was swimming nearby the Spirit Cat would warn her in enough time.

The cool water brought a smile to the She-Orc's green lips and she dived straight under, coming to the surface she shook her deep purple mane a little dryer and ran her shivering fingers through her locks of hair. Laying on her back, floating quite comfortably, Mazguul looked up at the red scorched clouds.

"Not listening!!!" she snarled back to the spirit cat - Ravage was one spirit who's voice she could never remove from her mind.

While Mazguul took her time doing nothing at all, Ravage paced along the water's edge, the two pin points of light she had for eyes searching for any signs of something that might decide the She-Orc would make an attractive meal.

Hours passed and Mazguul emerged from the water to drip dry in the dusk. Ravage went back to silently watching. For a while longer there was calm silence, Mazguul even started a fire, the two wolves wandered over to get the benefit of warmth in the cold air, the spirit cat turned her head to look to her orc companion, Mazguul's eyes narrowed and then...

"I AIN'T!!!" she screamed at the cat. "HE NOT BE THAT GROM-DAMNED FERTILE!!!!" Mazguul paused as she blinked "I hope... hey!"

Ravage causally licked her paws, pleased that Mazguul was so easy to tease.

(( Was bored... so I give you a rather boring Maz brain hiccup... meh, just gave me something to do even if this post doesn't tell anyone anything *giggle* ))

Boredom destroys the soul... by making you fill out pointless quizzes, yay!

http://www.freewebs.com/aerosolspraycan/marysue.html

I found this little 'Mary-Sue' test for WoW. Though you've probably seen it before and I doubt anyone here need to worry about that sort of thing at all! Still - it made me smile and gave me something to do. I know I've posted this somewhere else too but as I was very, very bored I decided to do this silly thing for a few of my various characters (I also think insomnia has a part of play) and share this completely pointless information with you

Mazguul - 2
Shilo - 4
Thais - 13
Marren - 4
Endellion - -2

All in all not too bad I think =)

Go on give it a go, you know you're a teeny bit curious

[HIGHLY crude in it's topic and it's language]

(( Before I even post it I am going to warn folk that this could be considered HIGHLY crude in it's topic and it's language. If the powers that be wish to get rid of it please go ahead - I will not be offended even in the slightest.... though I can understand how others might be offended by this little ditty. But it made me laugh when I spotted it

I haven't put in the Campfire section as I was too worried about it *hides and waits for the flames* ))

Once again it was dusk, Mazguul's favourite time for contemplation. Truth be told it was the only time she really had to herself. Unless there was a tribe meeting of course, or Osan was around. Dusk was normally the calm before the Hunt.

In her arms was a sleeping little mass of black fur, the little pup that Morgeth has presented to her, and behind her was the ever-faithful Bryaugh who was doing a wonderful impression of a back rest. His silver tail swept round both Mazguul and the tiny wolf.

Ravage, on the other hand, sat staring at Mazguul across the small fire that separated them. To the cat the She-Orc's eyes had turned from brilliant blue to purple, due to the red hue of the flames. The translucent beast cocked his head to one side at Mazguul in curiosity, or that's what it seemed. The beast's stare was blank as per usual and Mazguul snorted at the cat in quiet amusement - an action that caused her nose ring to twitch ever so slightly. She had not even looked up at the cat as she seemed transfixed by the little wolf.

"Don't give me that look" the She-Orc growled at the cat, though her tone of voice was not completely unfriendly. "He'll be safe enough with us three" Mazguul glanced up at the giant cat "I think he'll enjoy coming with us on the hunt, it be in his nature... if he wakes up. But don't you worry, we'll find someone to look after him and Bryaugh while we go to the desert. You be right, it be no place for them if we can be helping it." For a moment Mazguul frowned "I still be unsure what the Chieftain meant by 'concentration' though, in the way it relates to a desert, but if he think it be right for my training for the Path of Spirit then I won't argue. Still... I not be looking forward to getting sand in me boots..."

Mazguul took her eyes away from the cat and stared down at the precious little creature that had been entrusted into her care. That Morgeth had given her such a soul meant more to Mazguul than she cold ever express in words - something small to love to ease the, now admittedly waning, pain. Morgeth was a true sister and friend.

The She-Orc lay a shaking hand on the pup, and ruffled his head affectionately while wishing she could feel the fur beneath her fingers. Her scared hands lacked the nerve endings for her to feel very much at all. With a frown of annoyance Mazguul lifted the hand to examine it and words shared with an Orc that was especially close to her heart came back to mind. Osan was been right about them, it was time to see a Shaman about the spasming digits. Truth be told she had no idea if a Shaman could do anything at all but unless she grit her teeth, bit down her pride and actually asked, then she knew she would never know the answer. Trouble was there was only one Shaman on the whole of Azeroth she would even remotely consider letting near her hands: Norviskrall. But she had no idea where he even was.

Another idea popped into her head, this time not her own, and she peered over to the swirling mass of spirit cat that sat on the opposite side of the fire.

"I'm not going to start 'orc' hunting" she grumbled, shifting uncomfortably at the notion "not yet anyway, so drop it... please" she added, remembering that though Ravage was a huge great cat that she was also of the Spirit world and as such needed to be treated with respect. Suddenly Mazguul smirked and turned her full attention to Ravage, it was as if the cat has 'said' something highly amusing. "That's just wrong" Mazguul smirked "Amusing but still wrong. I can't hunt Shaman in a Bonding Hunt. Call it 'killing two buzzards with one stone' if yer like but I still think it be a little sick. Osan agreed to that old tradition and so we're going to do it properly, when he and I be having the time to spare o'course."

And so her thought's turned to Osan proper while she absent-mindedly stroked the wolf pup. As simple as Osan was she enjoyed his company far more than any of the rest of the Tribe. With an existence as hectic as hers she found Osan so very comforting and as corny as it sounded he lifted her spirit, he made her smile, with his wonderfully simplistic mind. He spoke no words of double meanings, there were no 'strings' nor 'catches' - only pure honesty. She adored him, her sweet Orc, though this she had not as yet said to the gentle, kitten-like warrior.

A pained expression crossed her face as she remembered accusing him of only wanting her as a pup producer. Had her past tainted her so much that she she subconsciously thought the worst of folk to protect herself? The answer appeared to be yes. But he had spoken of things that had hurt her so much and she had instantly gone on the defensive. The thought of holding her own little green pup once again had wrenched at her heartstrings - this she craved more than all other things and this was why she was going to force herself to wait just a little longer. Running into such a great responsibility just to claw back what she had lost from the past seemed cruel to her, not only for the pup but cruel to Osan too. No, she would deny herself, and Osan, a pup of their own until she was ready. If he would wait for her then truly he was the Orc for her.

Mazguul's train of thought was interupted as the wolf pup sneezed in his sleep making Mazguul laugh softly with delight. This was a time of new beginnings: a new mate, a new wolf, new teachings and new hope. For once, Mazguul was rather looking forward to her future... all she had to do was find Norviskrall to see if it was possible for her to have 'new hands'.

"Now we just need a name for you" she said tenderly to the little black wolf pup "but this may take a while... what about... Nipper? No?"

Ravage gave Mazguul a pained look and continued to look distraught as the She-Orc's list of possible names got steadily worse and worse as the evening wore on.

(( Another 'episode' of Maz - Musings. Short one this time though. I'm sure these are more for my benefit - else I'll loose track of everything! Anyway, hope you enjoy. I think the next one will be a Maz - Blast from the Past. I miss writing about her and her Troll Shaman friend.
Osan - if you disagree with anything let me know and I'll edit *nod nod* ))

Mazguul sat quietly staring at the spirit beast over the other side of the fire. The flames turned the ghostly cat shaped visage into a glowing orange swirling mass in the dark of the forests Mazguul liked to hide in.

Meanwhile Mazguul was holding a stick between her toes on which was her meal - some sort of meat by the looks of it. Bryaugh, Mazguul's ever faithful wolf, slept soundly by the same fire, occasionally twitching an ear. Unlike his Master, Bryaugh did not seem to care about the cat spirit, he was indifferent.

The spirit didn't need to sleep, eat, drink or breath. She just existed. That in itself Mazguul found very unsettling. In the same way she found Forsaken and Death Knights unsettling. The dead were not supposed to walk, they were supposed to lie down and their spirits were supposed to leave.

The She-Orc knew how the hunt worked, or was supposed to work. For every kill she made in which her own skill matched that of her prey a little part of that beast became part of her. Over time these little parts begin to influence a hunter and how they hunt. Mazguul knew this, she had been told this and she believed this. Her boon for her devotion to the Spirits of The Hunt was something very personal to her - the boon of 'spirit sensing'. During the hunt she felt her prey's soul as she gave chase, or at least that was how she described it, and when she killed she felt their spirit parting from their body. In extreme cases she saw it, such was her slight 'sight'. But never, never had the spirit of a beast stayed for more than a few minutes in her vision. Until now.

"You're not supposed to be here" Mazguul grumbled as she bit into her meal and waved a finger that the beast accusingly "you're supposed to go somewhere else"

The beast looked blankly at her. As it had done for days.

"How in the Nether should I know where that is?" the She-Orc continued, a frown formed on her face "I'm not dead yet so I have no idea as I haven't been, like, there."

Still the beast stared without expression or emotion.

"I killed you, skinned you and ate you, yes you are dead" Mazguul rolled her eyes "well, your physical body is. All you are now is a walking ball of... spirit.. stuff. You shouldn't be here, you should be somewhere else and-"

Mazguul paused. The ghostly cat had said nothing to her, she had not even blinked or made a motion and yet Mazguul had still known what the cat had replied with. This was even more unsettling than the days of having the beast spirit silently following her around.

The She-Orc licked her lips nervously and met the pinpoints of light that the cat had for eyes. For a long time they stared at each other, cat and orc, in silent contemplation.

"Why are you here, Cat?" Mazguul finally asked.

And then she knew - the information popped into her head as if it had always been there but she had forgotten it. The cat was not the spirit of the cat she had killed but a collection of all those she had hunted in the name of The Hunt. The Spirits of the Hunt had given Mazguul a spirit companion to complement her spirit sense and to protect her in this time of war. The cat was the greatest boon the Spirits of The Hunt could give - one of their own. Mazguul had never hunted out of spite, hatred or lust for blood but for the desire to hunt for The Hunt and it was this that marked her, and a few other whom she did not know, as worthy in their eyes.

Mazguul tore her eyes away from the cat's and looked at the floor in shame. Twice she had shot the Spirit Beast to see if she would die. She had tried gnomish explosives, the spells of warlocks, the banishment rituals of Shamans, washing her (Mazguul knew most cats didn't like water), pushing her off a cliff, setting light to her and even getting Necromancers to kill her. She had been so wrapped up in trying to get rid of a 'cat' that she had not stopped to consider that she might have the aid of a 'spirit'. The hurt and loathing at herself that filled her heart was near unbearable - what had she done?

The She-Orc opened to her mouth to apologise, to beg the spirit for forgiveness for her cruelty but she shut it again as she simply knew that she had already been forgiven. The Spirit walked round the fire and lay it's transparent head on Mazguul's lap with a deep growling purr. The cat had found Mazguul's antics amusing.

"I knew you lot had a twisted sense of humour" Mazguul grumbled.

When she next looked down at the cat the distrust and disgust was gone from Mazguul's unusually deep-blue eyes to be replaced with admiration. It was time to accept her boon and time to trust in the spirit cat. As per usual the Thur'Ruk was right.

"You know..." she said as she stroked the cat's head with a mangled hand, then watched as the spirit got up to lay down with Bryaugh "...I think we'll all get along just fine... but... you need a name."

Mazguul watched the cat as she kept watch over the she-orc and the wolf. For some reason Mazguul's mind drifted back to the first time she had taken the spirit really hunting. Bryaugh had not been at the best of health for a spider bite had caused a paw to swell and the She-Orc had been forced to take the cat.

A smile formed at the memory. Cat's made for good killers even if they were harder to control than a wolf... very good killers despite their independent stubbornness.

"Ravage" she nodded with a smirk "I'll call you Ravage... for what I did to you and for what you do for me."

With that said Mazguul sank her teeth into her meal and Ravage glowed brighter in pleasure at having been given a name.

(( Quick one.. not a very good one... sorry... ))

A greenish hand, so scarred that it could not grip properly, reached out of a pit to land on a patch of grass where upon the hand gripped tightly splitting it's knuckles open from the pulling scar tissue. Bone, bloodied and red, showed through the splits and a second hand soon followed, suffering the same fate. A grunt of effort, seemingly feminine in it's nature, emerged from the owner of the hands.

Mazguul hauled herself from her pit. Her home for the past week. Her face was thin. Her amazingly unusual deep-blue eyes shone with sheer determination as she forced her half starved self out and onto the grassy earth. Another hand, larger, furred, helped her out. A gesture that earned the Tauren a grateful grin from Mazguul.

As the She-Orc stood she appeared to fail to notice her bleeding hands as they dripped blood to the ground. Instead she glanced about, as if looking for something. Her gaze was rewarded by a joyful yelp from a wolf.

The ever faithful Bryaugh ran for his lfe long friend. If another had seen the mangy mad-yellow-eyed creature running for them they would have run, but not Mazguul. She knelt down, spread her arms and embraced the wolf as she was barrelled over. Their reunion was brief. A hand signal from Mazguul ended the wolf's playful happiness. He stood by her side, quietly snarling as Mazguul slowly rose and turned to her saviour.

"Thank you" she said and was given a nod in reply.

Eventually she looked at where she was. A snort flicked her nose ring slightly.

She was still in the Stonetalon mountains, on the outskirts of the northern section where the Night-Elves were dwelling. She had been too cocky, too desperate to kill and she had been caught. Bryaugh had escaped.

The Purple-skinned idiots had thought torture would break her. She rolled a shoulder once again snorting, though this time in discomfort. They had lashed her, beaten her, but still she had not broken. New scars were welcome in Mazguul's eyes. She had not told the Elves anything about the impending attacks, they had lost their tempers and left her to die in the pit when the news that Ashenvale had been ravaged. Some had stayed to guard, the Tauren party hand frightened them off.... damned cowardly Elves.

"He came to get us" a familiar voice said, the voice of a young Tauren Mazguul had been acquainted with for quite some time.

Mazguul looked down at Bryaugh while the Tauren slowly handed Mazguul's gun to the wolf. The silver killing machine gently took the gun from the Tauren's hands with his teeth. Mazguul had trained the wolf well.

"Bryaugh ain't stupid" she said affectionately. Her deep-blue eyes flicked to the Tauren, a smile played on her lips "you ain't stupid, like, either."

Before the Tauren could chuckle the She-Orc and the Wolf vanished into the undergrowth.

Mazguul was on the way back to the Tribe... once she had got some new clothes... and a decent meal.

(( Quickly thrown together, have been on the wine, sorry *giggles* ))

Dusk, the time when creatures were on the prowl, the time that prey learned to dread, the time to prepare for the hunt, the time when the light waned to leave a bloody hue to the sky. Truth be told, Mazguul had always found this colour rather fitting but this she kept to herself just like everything else and here in the Barrens near the border with Ashenvale the red always looked best.

Mazguul stared at her tiny fire. The remains of her meal had been all but devoured by the silver wolf that lay at her feet, the cracking of bone was the only noise that she could hear over the crackling fire. She watched the flames dance, she seemed mesmerised by their motions, entranced at the flames licking at the air yet there was a look of disgust in her eyes. A hand, horrifically scarred with burns and near useless, twitched of it's own ruined accord causing the She-Orc to wince slightly.

"What good is an Orc that can't wield a weapon?"

Gnash's words rang through Mazguul's head again and again till she screwed her eyes shut with a snarl. A noise that made the wolf look away from the bear knee he was chomping through and raise his head to his Master in concern. He expected a stroke. He received nothing but the feeling that his Master was in inner turmoil so turned back to his meal with a whimper that went unnoticed by Mazguul.

Opening her eyes she held her hated hands up to stare at them emotionlessly. The crippled hands she had tried so hard to hide from her peers for fear of being considered a liability. She knew she couldn't pick up a weapon unless it had been modified for her use, it had to be light and had to be tied to her... but no matter how much she tried to deny it, in a 'normal' circumstance, with a 'normal' weapon she could not wield a weapon.

Did this make her less of an Orc?

In a warrior's eyes it obviously did and it had made her doubt her place in the Tribe even more than she already did. She had been alone for so long that integrating with other Orcs was proving to be a problem, this tribe had so many members and all could interact with such ease that she often found herself being the outsider looking in on a family. Or at least that was how she saw it. A small part of her did not wish to be a part of the tribe for fear, and yes she loathed the idea she was afraid, of loosing yet more souls she gave a damn about. Perhaps it really was best if she left, at least she then she would not have to worry about the warrior's words or getting in the way of the family structure of the tribe.

She was interrupted from her thoughts as a wet nose was pressed against her cheek and the She-Orc smiled so tenderly that it seemed an unnatural smile to be on the face of a 'typical' She-Orc. A hand went to scratch behind the wolf's ear and she nodded slowly. She would continue to keep herself to herself, continue to keep her crippled hands her little secret and she would fight to the best of her ability for there was nothing else she could do. Wallowing in self pity would not be a constructive use of her time, not when her dreams were filled with her ancestors-

The sound of a twig snapping drew her attention upwards, cut her thoughts short and she caught the unmistakeable scent of elf in the air, out the corner of her eye she saw movement through the trees. A slow smile spread across her face and her blue eyes danced with sheer delight - the hunt was on and she would relish the inevitable feeling of a Night-Elf suffocating in her jaws. Screw that warrior, she could kill and that was all that really mattered even if it wasn't what was in her hands that made the killing blow.

(( Cause Norviskrall complained that I haven't written much (creativity has not been my friend recently, this, coupled with the fact that I wrote it off the of of my head, is the reason for it's rubbishness) As per usual please do write your criticisms so I know how to improve ))

(( A little story I knocked up to explain Mazguul's hatred of insects - so yes, it's a story from her past. Apologies now for its direness, I'm quite sure it is 'not up to standard' but everyone needs to start somewhere I suppose, plus I need to do a more accurate 'spell check'. Tips for making it better are always welcome *smiles* ))

"-an dat's wai dey do dat" Zandii said confidently as she was carried along the beaches north of Ratchet "Eber shince dem firs' tribe be-"

As the troll continued to babble about trollish history, Mazguul heard the low growl of an Orc beginning to loose his temper and shot a glare of warning at her mate. He had never been one to enjoy idle chatter and this troll seemed to be able to continue indefinitely. So far Zandii had not stopped talking for over three hours and although Mazguul could listen till the stars stopped shining she knew that Omadon could not. She was a little surprised he had not already tried to rip out Zandii's tongue. It was written all over his face that he wished they were back home so that he could throw Zandii off his shoulder, where she was dangling down his back, and into her hut. But, they still had a way to walk.

"-bu' dat'sh anudder staary sho-"

Mazguul couldn't help but smirk as Omadon ground his teeth together in frustration, twitched his hands in an effort not to strangle Zandii and nodded to Mazguul that he was at least trying to comply. Even if he was failing miserably. The She-Orc could not particularly be angry at Omadon for Zandii was talking even more than usual. An afternoon's drinking session in Ratchett had loosened the troll's lips. It had also made the troll's legs so wobbly that she couldn't stand let alone walk.

"-sho... waa were mi bi saaing?"

"You were explaining why you liked snakes and then wandered off into the realms of trollish history" Mazguul replied cheerfully "You were just getting to the part where the Empire split in two" The She-Orc didn't need to look at her mate to see the daggers in his glare at her, she could feel them.

"Ah, so mi were!"

While Omadon groaned with despair as the troll carried on Mazguul continued to soak up the information the drunkard was dishing out.

Had the She-Orc not been pregant with two pups she would have offered to carry Zandii herself but watching another do the work for her was far more entertaining, especially when Omadon had offered. She was also well aware that he had only come with the two females as he disliked having his mate roaming around with his pups. Carting Zandii around was his punishment for being too soft.

"Get a gag on her" Omadon suddenly blurted out "one more second of her talking and I'll kill her!!!"

The silence only lasted a minute.

''Shush, orcie, mi bi habin' stuff fy yak'in" Zandii said from Omadon's back, her eyes were lit up with anger and her mood only got worse when Omadon dropped her to the ground, unable to cope with her any longer.

Mazguul began to back away from the troll. She knew well what the look in Zandii's eyes meant and Mazguul knew knew what was going through Zandii's mind. Zandii was going to draw her wand and simply cast every hex she knew at the Orc just for fun to see him take all sort of shapes and forms. The troll would watch him be victimized by both beasts and elements alike, just for show. Mazguul had seen Zandii do it before.

Zandii smiled at Omadon, looking rather creepy as she did so and the troll's hand slowly moved towards her hip to reach for her wand. But then she seemed to suffer from an alcohol induced laziness, so much so that she couldn't handle drawing her wand and appeared to decide the Orc wasn't worth the stress.

''Pfff,'' Zandii waved at Omadon and blowed away the idea as she tired to stand up.

The She-Orc began to relax as she thought the temperamental troll had given up. Mazguul didn't relish the idea of trying to stop Zandii while she was armed. Then, suddenly, Zandii grabbed her wand. One that appeared to be broken in the middle and hastily knitted back together with string. Mazguul sprinted for cover, deciding to hide behind a large boulder while Omadon, in his arrogance, folded his arms at Zandii daring her to take the shot.

''Haluji'fyvijah!'' Marlith shouted as she pointed her damaged wand at Omadon.

The broken state of her wand messed up with her accuracy, and as a purple ray was fired from her wand, it split up into many fragments of voodoo. They created quite the colour show as they flickered and flew everywhere, all of them missing Omadon except one which hit him right in the chest, throwing him into a tree.

A second later, a pride of roaming lion's came out of the savanah and entered Mazguul's sight. Mazguul looked at the lions, the lions licked their lips at her At first the lions seemed like they were about to attack the She-Orc, but when the pride saw the barrage of wild voodoo coming towards them from behind the boulder Mazguul was leaning on the lions instantly ran for their lives.

The voodoo magic finally began hitting lions, rocks and trees where they exploded on impact, the whole area was complete covered smoke and explosions. Ice and fire appeared out of nowhere and clashed with each other. Lightning shot out from the dust clouds, and much of the local fauna was destroyed by the chaotic force of Zandii's terrible mistake. All the while Mazguul hid behind her rock and vowed to never ever trust a drunk Shaman ever again.

As the Voodoo finally burnt out and the destruction stopped, all that could be seen of the lion pride when the smoke lifted were charred bones, a snake slithering away along with a chicken and a lion running around roaring in agony while covered in purple flames. Mazguul shot it to put it out of it's misery.

Mazguul peered over the rock, looking at the dunk troll in horror. Zandii had been knocked back by the shockwave of Voodoo and was currently laying on her back looking up at the sky. Omadon was still laid out cold.

''Dat bi fun!" Zandii cried with glee as she sat up with a stuid grin on her face "lezz do it 'gain!''

She quickly found her awful broken wand, ensuring that the broken pieces were held together by the string before preparing to cast another spell as she staggered to her feet. She turned as she heard the 'click' of a gun being armed as saw Mazguul snarling down the barrel at her.

"Put it away and then I'll do the same" she said quietly while slowly walking round the troll to get to her still unconscious mate.

Zandii looked at her wand. 'Dat bi meanin' nuh moar fun?'' The troll asked, looking rather disappointed.

While Zandii put her wand away Mazguul was already trying to shake Omadon awake, her gun once again slung over her shoulder. She had seen him take a hit to the chest by the fragmented hex, he was still alive and it appeared that he hex Zandii had cast on him had come with no immediate effect, but suddenly he sat bolt up right and looked like he was going to vomit. Mazguul raised an eyebrow when she suddenly saw a rather nasty scorpion come crawling right out of Nokhan's mouth and watched in disgust as it ran down on his shoulder. She was not as surprised as Omadon was by any means.

"What did you do, Zandii?!" Mazguul shouted viciously at the troll

But the troll said nothing, she only watched as Omadon spewed up further insects, and it was as if a swarm of insects of every kind, beetles, spiders, ants, crawlers and and the entire brood came crawling out of his mouth. Hundreds upon hundreds of the things. The She-Orc scrambled out f the way after squishing the critters did nothing to stop the torrent. Mazguul would remember that sight for the rest of her life. She didn't know what to do, Zandii was too smashed to help and Mazguul prayed the hex wouldn't last for long. She also hopefully that Omadon wouldn't be suffocated by the flow of bugs coming up from his belly through his throat and out of his mouth. They even began to force their way out of his nose.

It was Omadon's reaction the really scared Mazguul. She knew he wasn't easily frightened. He had gone as far as almost causing terrible defeats just to get a chance to fight the most deadliest opponents on the battlefield. He was infamous for his lack of fear. The Orc spent his life seeking to find death not only in battle, but only by the best of the best, refusing to let puny humans, elves and dwarfs be his bane. But vomiting bugs and roaches and beetles was something he had never experienced, and later when he spoke to Mazguul about the experience, it had struck him as not only abominable and vile, but also utterly unnatural, even when including the Burning Legion and the Forsaken as natural. So he panicked.

He lay on the ground screaming and shrieking, clawing deep, bleeding scratches in his face in a vain attempt to rid himself of the swarm that crawled over him. He trashed back and forth, howled for salvation in all the languages he could and twisted with bloodshot eyes stricken with naked fear. His screams grew louder and more terrified with each second, and continued on even after the bugs had ceased to appear.

*****************************************************************************

By the time the three of them got home it was dark and to this day Mazguul still hates all insects: the smaller they are the more they make her skin crawl

(( Mmmm, better explain who Zandii is: she is Mazguul's closest friend and is so accident prone that it is a wonder how she had ever lived as long as she has. ))

I've shoved Mazguul's 'profile' on the Wiki - weep at it's 'cheesiness', my darlings. Well... I did 

http://orcsoftheredblade.com/wiki/index.php/Mazguul