(( 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... ))
((I've got a STRONG feeling I wont be a member of this guild much longer.
I have this feeling Kozgugore would kick Varg's arse out so hard and permanently if Varg finds out of whoms pups that Maz is carrying.
Quite dissapointed myself Irl too. :<
But, heck, nice written.))
(( I don't see how Koz has anything to do with this, but ah well, RP!
Nice set of yarns at least, Maz. Nice to see some other orcs finally setting some storylines in motion, too! *Cheer* ))
((The things Varg would do ICly.
Being demoted twice and already not be the favourite, well this will probably make Koz forced to kick Varg. :< ))
(( Koz ain't forced to do anything. Things go as they go. But someorc'd have to do something very crazy for him to shove his boot someplace. But heck, this is about the story, which certainly doesn't deserve a righteous boot up the buttock! ))
((Loved the story, and I'm a famed fan of drama anyway. Your stories are always quite captivating, Maz. She's an interesting character, to say the least. And who doesn't have mantrouble? D:))
Nice read Mazzy! Gotta like the Drama:D
Totems
As the morning sun slowly rose and spilled light onto the Barrens a herd of Gazelle were being hunted by a large wolf. A wolf who's dark blue coat crackled with static. Flickers of lightning jumped across it's body and it's eyes were of storms; Bloodrend was his name. Named after Mazguul's own mate.
While the wolf crouched in a thicket, waiting for the chance to strike, his Mistress was up on a hillside occasionally glancing down at him. She wondered if the wolf knew just how conspicuous he was in this environment.
Mazguul did not sit alone. In fact two figures sat there casting their shadows down the hillside.
Both figures looked a little worse for wear. One was a severely hungover troll, the other a depressed orc. The troll cradled her head occasionally groaning and muttering things along the lines of 'never again', while the orc had a knife in her hand. The knife was being used to carve Mazguul's latest attempt at a totem. Zandii, the hungover troll, had assured Mazguul that as a fledgeling shaman the orc would need one of these... and it needed to look 'just right'.
"Sin de maat yit?" Zandii asked.
Mazguul shook her head.
"Who else bi knowin'?" the troll continued to probe.
"Just Osan" Mazguul replied absent-mindedly, her attention was more focused on what she was doing than the troll's verbal diarrhea. "Then again I did tell him I weren't sure."
"Sooooooo. Di ex bi knowin', that yu mite bi?"
Mazguul nodded.
"Hi's pleased?"
Mazguul paused for a moment and thought back to the night when she had told Osan. She wasn't too sure why she had done it. But, after he had yelled at her for a good half an hour non-stop for allegedly stirring things between himself and Vargosh, the conversation turned to less harsh things. They both admitted things to each other. She'd been forced to admit things to herself too.
"He be pleased in some ways I be guessin'"
"Dis mite bi a silly quaastin, bu' wai tell di ex?" Zandii asked, cutting off Mazguul's thoughts
Mazguul's eyes narrowed. "Shut up an' start talkin' about summit else?" Mazguul snarled then turned back to her carving.
Zandii sat up and leaned right over so that she could rest her chin on Mazguul's shoulder. Her attention was focused on the totem in Mazguul's hands. While she was pleased that Mazguul was taking the lesson seriously and now had the ability to use her hands enough to carve things (for before Vargosh had found Mazguul a healer the she-orc could barely picking things up for old burn scars), Zandii could not help but feel the need to mention something.
"Looks constupaat'd" Zandii remarked.
The she-orc stopped what she was doing and looked down at the totem. She turned it this way and that yet no matter which angle she looked at it from the face she had carved into the totem now looked constipated.
Damned troll.
With a grunt of frustration Mazguul threw the totem over her shoulder and into a pile of twelve other rejects.
"Ya'll git dere, Orcie" Zandii said and patted Mazguul on the head in a belittling fashion. "Sum uf oos git di knack. Yu niid mur praktiss"
Soon enough though the troll was doubled over in pain from an elbow in the ribs from Mazguul. The latter picked up yet another 'blank' and started carving again with a merry little whistle.
(( Thankies for the replies people =)
I'm sorry, Vargosh. I didn't mean this to cause conflict but rather to give my character a little kick up the bum in the storyline department. ))
Shattering
A hand reached out and grabbed her by the neck, lifting her up off the floor and choking her. She scrabbled at the paw to get free. But the owner of the hand was too strong, so strong that even as Mazguul thrashed to get free the hand stayed where it was. There was no release other than death. Her world started to go dark, the hand tightened it's grip, crushing her windpipe. She couldn't breath, her lungs were on fire as they gasped for air yet found none. She tried to cry out. She tried to beg Vargosh for forgiveness. At that moment she would have given anything to have those hate filled eyes turn calm once again. She loathed to see him like this and she didn't want to die.
Just as her lungs felt as though they were going to implode Mazguul woke up from her nightmare with a start. She sat up suddenly, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat from terror. She looked around wildly, briefly not knowing where she was until a soft noise next to her made her snap her attention to the sleeping form at her side. She relaxed a little as Osan seemed so peaceful.
The events of the night before flooded back into her mind and with a whimper she rolled over. A hand reached up to her face. A face still tender from having been kicked by a furious Mok'Nathal - she'd forever be missing her right tusk.
Having been literally thrown into the gutter by Vargosh, his rage had known no bounds, she had been forced to watch as her world fell apart. Her mate had abandoned her, vowed to kill the father of her pups and... she couldn't blame him for leaving. She had destroyed his everything. As for challenging Osan she was completely shocked. As far as she was concerned this was between herself and Vargosh therefore including the orc was not, in her opinion, fair. Yet there was nothing she could do to stop it.
After Vargosh had strangled and beaten her - Osan had found her and had picked her up out of the dirt. He'd ferreted her away somewhere safe, somewhere quiet. This place. He'd patched her up, listened to what had happened and had given her no choice but to be his once more. 'She owed him' he had said. And she did, at this rate she'd get him killed. She should have never left him, hurt him. Or she should have never told him or Vargosh a thing. She should have left without a word.
She rolled onto her other side and rested her head on Osan's chest. Her unusual coloured eyes watched the orc as he slept. She had tried to love too many, while her own heart was large enough she continued to forget the others were not so inclined. The she-orc sighed at herself. If Vargosh took away the only love she had left-
A snort from outside brought her attention back to reality and back to the little place high in the hills. Ravage was on the prowl.
Mazguul's eyes turned away sadly from Osan and she rolled back over to try to sleep some more. She closed her eyes, fearful of the days to come yet tonight the very spirits watched over them. Hopefully the spirits would continue to do so.
Oddly enough, her thoughts turned to Morgeth... Mazguul missed her sister's council.
(( If anyone wishes me to re-write the events as I have recorded them (from the Mazzy's point of view of course... which isn't necessarily 'what actually happened') then please do mention it and I shall be more than happy to edit it with good enough reason on the part of others :) ))
((I was , to be completely honest, not in any way liking what I had to make Vargosh do. Damnit. D:
But Vargosh, is Vargosh, and he got pretty screwed by Mazguul.
Background story, as Mazguul know, it's pretty obvious why, Vargosh did what he did.
Nice read, nevertheless.))
(( This post is also related to:
http://orcsoftheredblade.com/forum/index.php?topic=2034.0 - the ransome note
and
http://orcsoftheredblade.com/forum/index.php?topic=2035.msg19650#new - chieftain's organisation ))
Kidnapped
Mazguul sat, curled up and hugging her knees to her chest, watching the door to the large 'Tauren tent thing' where she had been placed. Having only a knife to hand as a weapon was not at all comforting.
Outside she could see the taurens known as Grimtotem milling about and getting on with life. Well... they seemed to be preparing for something, watching and waiting.
She had been told her Tribe had been notified as to the fact that herself and Osan had been kidnapped. If Osan had been in this same tent too it made have made this entire thing more bearable. That she had no idea where he was made her even more desperate to escape.
"But they are coming" she internally told herself again, and again "...or are they...? Three more days and I'll make a break for it. Find Osan. And get us out of here. Good... I really should stop talking to myself. Not good. Going mad. Must tell the other voices to stop. SHUT UP!"
She hoped someone would come... the stress of the past week was making her mind loose control over dampening the whispers in her mind. Already she could hear little but the growing volume of indecipherable chatter in her head. So many voices, too many voices: she had to concentrate on something else!
Quickly her mind turned to other thoughts. Such as possible rescue (though she had a strong feeling a ransom would be too high a price for her tribe to pay) and she severely hoped they had something alcoholic with them if they did. Not that she'd manage to drink much of it. The pups would easily cope with a pint but currently she was feeling like her insides were trying to crawl out of her throat - morning sickness had always hit Mazguul badly before and this time was no different.
Whimpering to herself, hoping against hope that she would see a friendly face again, she hugged her knees all the more and continued to wait.
((Please slow down Mazguul can't keep up, me and my big mouth again i guess :-\ ))
Nice work
(( Don't worry, I'll be slowing down soon. And yes, 'you and your big mouth'; this saga thing is getting addictive *looks scared*
Naw, I'm just teasing, Claws :) Thank you for the idea, and thank you for reading these mind splatters. ))
(( A little mind fart that doesn't tell anyone anything nor go anywhere - it's purely for my benefit :) ))
Fire
Mazguul sat gazing into the flames of the small camp-fire she had haphazardly created for the soul purpose of keeping her company. Her thoughts continuously returned to the conversation between the Shaman of the tribe.
"What can we do for the rest of the tribe?"
The she-orc recalled the question put forth by Xaryah. She chewed on a finger absent-mindedly as she continued to contemplate and she might have stayed there all night had a nudge not disturbed her. The distinct sound of something small begin dropped to the floor made the she-orc look round.
Ravage, Mazguul's spirit companion, had brought food again. Mazguul was unsure if the spirit of the hunt did so out of kindness, loyalty or sheer necessity but she was grateful nonetheless.
"As if I not be fat enough" Mazguul grumbled at the offering of mauled rabbit - or she assumed it was once a rabbit.
She picked up the 'unidentified creature' between fore-finger and thumb. She held up the thing and looked at it in disgust. She supposed it looked edible. A kick from her insides that felt like butterflies in her stomach reminded her that the two pups she carried needed sustenance no matter how unappetising the thing to be eaten looked.
Kicking off her boots the she-orc took out a flick knife from her belt and deftly took the blade between her toes. Even after finally having her hands restored to a non-crippled condition she still found the daintier tasks easier to perform with her feet. She worked quickly, gutting and skinning the rabbit, her hands places on her large pup filled belly and her feet doing all the work. Some old habits were hard to break.
Other habits were hard to break too. Such as keeping her herself to herself and assuming that the others orcs were no longer interested in the spirits or their guidance. Perhaps it was time to be more open with her rituals, offer to include other orcs. After all the rites she had researched and the couple she had performed were for the benefit of the tribe. There had been interest for sure. One had even asked for a specific rite: one to appease the spirits of frost for deep winter was fast approaching.
Having filleted the rabbit-come-rodent she placed the slivers on a large flat rock to slowly cook. Ravage wandered behind the she-orc, laying down to become a willing back-rest. The fire began to slowly die.
It had not been that long ago that the spirits had allowed her to continue to live after she had left her life in their hands. Only a month had passed since she properly communed with the spirits of water: the only elementals that seemed content to grant her their blessings. It had been an even shorter time still that her Chieftain had invited her to see if she could speak with beasts other than wolves. It was only the previous day that she had attempted to speak with the spirits of fire and the results had been... well... nothing had happened at all. Was she even ready to undertake the task of performing a tribal ritual? She thought not.
Her thoughts returned, as they always did, to her sister. She wondered if perhaps she should take up Krogon's offer in order to help Morgeth. First she would have to- her thoughts stopped abruptly as another matter came to attention. Seeing that the fire had gone out completely Mazguul kicked a few smouldering logs back into the centre of the ring of stones. She did not even think as she placed a hand upon them then let go. A moment later and flames sprang from the wood.
Mazguul blinked. Fire had heard her call. She decided that perhaps it was time for her to try communing with them again. Such an invite was not to be taken lightly.
(( Whoop! Little brainfarts are always welcome, albeit a little smelly. Nice, little read! ))
((Mazguul, you cheeky orc! Lovely story, and makes for a very nice read. Perked my interest, to say the least))
(( Thankies for the kind words, Kozgugore and Morgeth =) ))
Answers
It started with a summoning and it ended with a howl. Though it was the part in between that Mazguul was most interested in. It was the bit in-between that she needed to know, she needed to see, she needed to hear.
The memories of the dead were so hard to wade through, it was like trying to paint a picture using nothing but air, and she was getting no closer to finding out what it was she desired. It was time to summon the spirit in question and to ask for her answer out right.
The she-orc closed her eyes and breathed in deeply the fumes that rose up from the bowl of incense by her knees. The thick, heavy smoke filled the small cave she sat in, wreathing round her in such a way that for once she did not feel so alone. It's sweet smell dulled her physical senses yet focused her mind to another plane, one which she had constant access to in passing. Hours passed and still the incense burned, still the smoke shrouded her. It was a little comforting to know that at least one thing sought to cling to her.
Such was her life. One of complete solitude, never again to feel the warmth of another laying by her side, the touch of a gentle paw, the sweet bite of a -
“Is this why you called me? To wallow in self pity?â€
Mazguul shook her head, opening her eyes slowly.
The cave, which had once seems so dark, now had a new hue. Life filled the place. Even insects had a spirit of their own and it was they, as they scurried along the walls doing whatever it is that insects do, that lit the cave up in a beautiful light. Though little lit up the room more than the spirit that sat on the other side of Mazguul's fire.
He sat there, with a hefty axe across his knee, the hide of a bear to cover his torso whose paws with clasped together to keep the garment on. Some form of unidentifiable mash of leather covered his legs and a deep scowl was set into his features. His eyes, his cold emotionless dead eyes, bore into Mazguul's own soul. Unlike the insects he had no body to obsuce his translucent spiritual form.
“No†the she-orc replied politely, bowing her head graciously to the spirit. “I came ter ask yers something so I can help my sister. What did the elemental spirits ask yer ter do? What did yer give 'em to aid yers own friend?â€
Mazguul waited patiently. She had to know the answer. She had spent months tracking down this spirit. She had singled out his voice from so many others and followed it until she came here. How many sleepless nights had it taken? How many times had she thought she would loose her mind in these spirit walks? How much time had she spent away from the tribe and hiding her self inflicted torture? She didn't know the answer to any of those questions. All she knew was that with this spirit's answer came the possibility of helping her Blood Sister and with that perhaps would come a small peace.
“There is no 'cure' for the fel†the spirit replied in a voice that could have frozen the heart of even the bravest wolf.
Mazguul couldn't help but smile. She'd come too far to be stopped and he would not frighten her off. She stood up, her spirit leaving her body behind and her ghostly form wandered round the fire to look down upon the spirit orc that was sitting.
“I be knowin' tha' " she continued. "But I do know of a ritual tha' might give the Warlock in question more time in the lucid world. Yer've done it. I've seen echoes of yer memories and 'em have plagued m'dreams every night since I first heard whisperings of yer. Yer called all Five ter yer. Water, Air, Fire, Earth and the Wild. 'Em all agreed ter do as yer asked 'em. Yer asked 'em ter help yer own brother, ter slow the corruption, ter fight back against the fel, ter give 'im more time... but...†Mazguul paused, finally feeling a little unnerved by the spirit's emotionless stare “... I be knowin' yer did sommit first. I can... feel it. A sacrifice were made and it hurt yers.... yer brother never knew tha', did he?â€
The spirit looked up at Mazguul and for a moment there was silence. The living orc and the long past orc matching each other's gaze. Both too stubborn to leave. Both too stubborn to speak.
“You all ready know the answer" the spirit finally replied, the same coldness still in his voice. "You came here to see if it was untrue. Well it is not. You trade one for the other. Your Warlock's life for that of your unborn. The Spirits have blessed you with two, I was not so fortunate. I saw her taken from me when she came of age knowing that I would never be a part of her life again. Nor she a part of mine. What you must decide is if you really are willing to give up something so precious for anotherâ€
With those words the spirit vanished and Mazguul felt the tug of her body hinting that it was time for her to come back.
The spirit of Mazguul walked to her body and as she sat down to rejoin the two she began to ponder the words she had heard.
Mazguul thought to what Nergul had said when she had first spoken of the general 'concept' to the Varog'Gor: Morgeth is an Alpha and is more important to the pack than Mazguul's pups. Logically this made sense yet Mazguul's own selfish desires wanted nothing more than to keep her pups from harm. To agree to give one to the Elements, to have the child ripped away from her, tore at her heart. She would never knew what would become of her pup after they had come of age.
No. She couldn't decide the fate of her own pups. Their fates were to be placed in their own hands, as it should be.
It was while she was walking back to Hammerfall that an image of Morgeth holding her son formed in the Spirit Walker's mind. She rarely saw the Varog'Gor look as happy as when she had Kraag in her arms. Another image formed, and another, yet another as she recalled every moment of joy Mazguul had seen Morgeth experience. Kraag's birth stuck in Mazguul's mind the most until she also recalled the way the Cheiftain and the Varog'Gor sometimes looked at each other, their adoration and devotion for each other. Such savage sweetness.
Her walk slowed to a crawl and Maguul closed her eyes with a pained epression. "Wha' right do I have ter take tha' away from two souls?" she asked no one in particular.
She received no answer and nor did she expect one. Her mind was made up.
If she could give Morgeth a single second more of that bliss which Mazguul herself craved, and would forever be denied, then it was worth it. Mazguul's loss would be Morgeth's gain and the Spirit Walker was pleased to do it - for her Sister in Blood and for the Tribe as a whole. Perhaps it would give Morgeth the time to come to terms with the idea that the was no cure for fel corruption except for not using demonic magic at all. Perhaps then Morgeth could be with her next litter, spend as much time with her mate as she could.... and do all the things that Mazguul never could.
No orc had to know. She knew she would not be thanked. It would be her silent gift to those whom she loved.
Mazguul placed a hand on her stomach, a sensation of complete loneliness and despair flooding over her. What started out as a whimper of misery soon became a howl of loss despite feeling the tell-tale kick from a wriggling pup.
And so, once more, it started with a summoning and it ended with a howl.
(( Meh - just a little something because I was bored ))
(( Very catchy! Not quite what I had expected Mazguul to actually do, which makes the story itself all the more surprising I'd say. Nicely written, and very interesting indeed! ))
((o.O.. you write so good..))
(( Moar plox ))
((Mnuh! Welling up here. Poor, beautiful Mazguul. Lovely written! <3 Want moar! Never underestimate yourself, or your amazing character!))
(( Thankies for the kind words peeps - criticism is more than welcome too btw :D ))
Dye Him Blue!
Sitting outside the crude hut in which Mazguul tended to sleep, Ravage watched her orcish companion in curiosity. In the past few days she had seen a marked change in the she-orc, she seemed more determined, less unsure... and far quicker to loose her temper.
The pups were due within the next two months and Mazguul simply wasn't prepared for it, she was no closer to developing enough of a relationship with the elements to further aid her beloved Blood Sister and now a fellow tribe member had really, really, annoyed her.
Ravage lay down, resting her massive transparent feline head on her front paws as she stared at Mazguul. The purple maned orc carefully tipped the contents of a bag of herbs she had recently acquired into a small cooking pot. She muttered to herself angrily as she did so, stabbed at the herbs viciously with her ladle to make the floating bits sink, and snarled more than once or twice as she stirred.
"This'll learn 'im" she suddenly said and snapped her gaze from the cauldron to Ravage. "If tha' male thinks 'e can just pick me up and throw me on the first transport zepplin out of Warsong Hold, stoppin' me in mid yellin' at said male, without any consequences, then 'im got another thin' commin'."
Mazguul had always been told by her sire that 'Revenge is a dish that is best served cold'. Mazguul disagreed. She believed that 'Revenge is a dish that is best served blue'.
It was easy enough to find blue dyes, but that which could also dye the skin blue was a little more difficult to come by. However, if one had the knowledge a skin dye could be created and to those feeling malicious enough it was easy enough to hide that dye within something else. The cauldron's contents, once condensed and dried out, would look like little more than a powder with a few leaves in it - how hard would it be to convince Burgorg of all orcs to bathe with it? The hard bit would be convincing him to bathe...
The ladle stopped mid stir. A smile slowly graced Mazguul's lips and she left the mixture to boil as she grabbed quill, ink and paper from a tiny box that contained everything she owned. The box she roughly shoved aside and quickly she began to write:
Seer Barun Earthgrip,
I am writing to you in concern for one of my fellow tribesorcs, the orc known as Burgorg Rockeater of whom you have written to us a few times before.
I came to Warsong Hold a few nights ago to see his latest injuries for myself and as is my duty I gave him something to avoid further infection as the wounds finish healing. I am concerned that the herbs I gave him will not work as well in lower temperatures thus I am sending him, via yourself, a new batch which should do the trick. I would be profoundly grateful if you could give them to him and tell him he must bathe himself in the whole lot to be sure that it works - it would save me a long trip.
May the spirits guide you
Nag'Ogar Mazguul Sharp-eye of the Red Blade Tribe
Mazguul put down the quill, smirked to herself and returned to getting the 'new herbs' ready for departure.
(( Short, sweet and purely for my own silly amusement. ))
(( This is great! I shall raise your story and write my own about this!))
Har! Would love to see Burgorg after that! Nice one! I likes.
Bwhahaha! Love this story. Very nicely shows Mazguul's wicked side! I've always enjoyed your style of writing, with a vivid way of presenting your stuff to the reader. Draws me in, it does!
(( 'Vicious' doesn't suit Mazguul, 'wicked' does :) Thanks for the kind words peeps - I look forward to poor Burgorg's side of the story ;D ))
(( Written for after Mazguul went to speak with the Spirit of Ulah. It also gives me an excuse to find a new outfit ;) A huge thanks goes to Burgorg for letting me borrow his character. ))
The Bones
Rain.
The noise was a near deafening clatter as the 'liquid sunshine' hit the leafy canopy in Ashenvale to cascade through to the ground in a noisy, though less harsh, patter. An hour ago it had not been raining, now, for some unknown reason the skys opened and the rain came down in a torrent.
If one listened closely, listened to something other than the rain, then they might have heard other sounds in the forest. Sounds that came from the insane creatures that were refusing to find shelter from the sudden rain shower. Sounds which included the occasional scrabble from fingers digging into wet earth, the occasional sickly 'thhhhh-uck' noise as if something large was being pulled out from said sodden ground... and the distinct noise of something hard crunching up a rock.
Below the trees, and looking rather bedraggled, two orcs and a Spirit in the form of a saber were out in the rain. One orc, a heavily pregnant female, was on her hands and knees up to her elbows in mud as she dug around for something with her bare hands. The other orc, a male of immense size and build, stood a little way away from her. A bear mask hid his face and through but a single eye scanned the water logged forest for signs of life. His hand rested on his weapon in wait. It was from him that the sound of crunching rock came as he cracked yet another stone between his teeth.
Mazguul Sharpeye and Burgorg Rockeater were on a little expedition. One that was drawing to a welcome close.
Mazguul could not remember that last time she had felt dry. The rain had crept inside her clothes, soaking and chilling her to the bone. Everytime she moved, rather than the clammy feeling one felt when it was raining a little, she felt as though she were taking a swim and she wasn't sure there was actually room for any more water in her boots. Then there were her hands: caked in in mud and leaf litter from the Ashenvale ground from grime filled finger nails to near her elbows.... those too were wet and cold.
The she-orc was careful where she put her fingers as she concentrated on searching through the soil and sometimes she would pull out another filthy bit of bone from the soft, wet earth. Even an idiot could tell she happened to be digging up the completely decomposed corpse of something large. Though this was far from a gruesome and disrespectful exhumation. The pieces were being placed with great care into a large sack, as if they were precious to Mazguul, and if asked she would have said her intention was to take the bones safely back to the camp in Durotar. The camp where she and Burgorg resided.
Ravage, the feline Spirit, sat opposite the she-orc with her blank gaze fixed solely on Mazguul's gentle, mucky hands. Though the transparent sabre looked up to meet Mazguul's gaze when the she-orc's hands stopped digging around in the ground. The Spirit tilted her head to one side and waited for Mazguul to speak.
"Yers know..." Mazguul grunted at the cat. "There be summit damned creepy about diggin yers up... when yers be right feckin' there staring at m' doin' it"
Mazguul shook her head violently trying to shake out some of the water in her mane. It did not help. All she ended up with was purple strands of rain soaked hair plastered to her equally rain soaked face. Raising a hand to her face she wiped the purple mess out of her eyes from one cheek then the other, covering both cheeks with mud in the process.
"Yes well, yers be a cat" replied Mazguul to an answer from Ravage only she seemed to hear. "Yers don't think the same as orcs so of course yers won't understand m' problem wit' it." Mazguul continued her dirty work of looking through the mud for more bones to put into the sack with care. "That be the last o'em little bits. Now where it be? Damned thing be too big ter loose so easy"
It was a few days ago that Mazguul had communed with the Spirit of Ulah, the Shaman that had been murdered not so long ago. Had Mazguul not spent too much time dealing with her own troubles, and those of her Sister, she would have made it to seeing Ulah while the Shaman still breathed. Yet, since the Chieftain had said he thought a meeting between Ulah and Mazguul would be beneficial for the her, she had taken the time to go searching for the Shaman's spirit.
It had been beneficial indeed.
Ulah had spoken of many things. She had spoken of her apprentice, Shazula. She had spoken of Spirit Walking and the less pleasant aspects of the Path. She had also suggested this journey into the depths of Ashenvale.
Mazguul returned to the place where she had hunted down Ravage's mortal form, to the very spot where the Spirit had decided to remain at her side. She would dig up the bones, take them back home with pride and she would create a way to wear the pieces. It would be a way to honour the Spirit, choosing to wear the cat's bones as an acknowledgement that she was proud that Ravage chose to stay with her. It had been Ulah's suggestion and Mazguul believed Ulah's words to be wise indeed. Already Mazguul's spiritual companion was being less vague with answers that she normally was.
All Mazguul had left to find was Ravage's mortal skull.
Suddenly a triumphant cry erupted from Mazguul. She dug deeper into the earth, frantically in fact, exposing something off-white in colour and slightly domed in shape. Wriggling her searching fingers round the object she had unearthed she scraped away enough soil to pull the item free to hold it up before her. She held up a skull, feline in structure, huge in size and sporting a pair of very long saber-teeth indeed. Mud dripped from the skulls bony cheeks and massive elongated canines as the rain washed it off. The she-orc proudly turned the skull this way and that as she admired the remains of her kill. The hunt itself had been one to remember and cherish - it was about time she came back to honour Ravage for the experience.
A grunt from Burgorg reminded Mazguul where she was: in a forest filled with predatory wildlife and savage Night-Elves. It was time to leave. The she-orc looked round and up to her self appointed protector, a pleased smile on her lips as she did so and she extended a hand towards him so that he could help her to her feet. Once standing, and with the skull cradled under her arm, she watched her companion as he went to pick up the rain soaked sack of bones.
Her smile became far more affectionate towards the orc and she took a moment to cast her ridiculously blue eyed gaze over the oversized Red Blade. Ever giving, ever there, ever helpful.... she could not have asked for a better friend or companion. She moved his bear mask out of the way so that she could place her nose against his burn scarred cheek in adoration and thanks. For the briefest of seconds she thought he had leaned into her gesture... odd since he'd never reacted as such before.
"Come along 'en, Bear" she said to Burgorg after straightening out his mask once more. "Lets be gettin' both of the Ravages home... and finally dry ourselves out."
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