Thoughts at Dusk

[Mazguul]

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 ))

[Norv]

(( Oh! Loved it! Catches you and takes you in Mazguul's world so nicely! Maz is making us more and more surprises with her pen, and she has my thanks for that.))


((  PS: and-and-and!

Cause Norviskrall complained that I haven't written much 

I didn't say that! Or I did! ...kind of. Err, anyway, be it said that I strongly object!
But thank you, Maz *bows* ))

[Morgeth]

((Lovely, Maz. Just lovely. Your writing really draws me in, and you have one heck of an interesting character. Lets do lunch. *winknudge*))

[Gnash]

(( Hrmh. That 'Gnash' guy sure was a flat character. ))

[Mazguul]

(( Thanks for the feedback Didn't want to start another thread, so shoved it in here... damned insomnia... *shrug* ))

Mazguul opened a single eye, the moving dappled light of the sunrise through the the leaves of the tree she had been sleeping under had disturbed her fitful slumber. This time, rather than sleeping alone in the wilds she had at least stayed within the walls of Splintertree Post, even if it was outside.

"You're awake" came a harsh female voice at her feet

It took a moment for Mazguul to respond and it was with a groan of resentment. The She-Orc did not look round to see who was speaking, past experience has taught her that the instant she looked, or woke up fully, was the instant the speaker would disappear. Despite her hatred of the, what she had assumed to be, ancestor Mazguul liked the company of that which could not die... and didn't want to kill her. There was something pleasant in knowing that you could never loose someone like that.

However, she still didn't like to be spoken to in the mornings.

"Go. Away." she snarled as she rolled over.

Her head was resting on the wolf, warm and comforting on this day... a most hated day. As if empathising with Mazguul's sudden remembrance of what today meant for her, the wolf lay his head closer to his friend, a soft whimper escaping from his lips. Mazguul grunted and sleepily patted the beast's rump in a half awake and clumsy fashion.

"So... same as last year? And the year before that?" the unnamed voice said causally "wallow in your own misery, wish away your life, hide from others like the cowardly dog that you are?"

The deep blue eyes were screwed shut even more tightly and Mazguul sighed.

The night had been plagued with memories, the pain in her heart being so great that she wondered if the organ would give out all together. It did not. What had not helped at all was that new faces had entered the dreams, faces of those from the Tribe rather than just those from her Clan.

"No" she replied, curling up into an even tighter ball of her bed of wolf and leaves. A scarred hand twitched in a random spasm, causing Mazguul to hiss. "This year there be something more important to do"

The silence could have been cut with a knife and Mazguul had to fight the desire to flick her gaze towards the speaker. The tone of shock in the speaker's voice when they eventually spoke was more than enough to amuse Mazguul in the end.

"What do you mean something else to do?" The speaker's voice soon became far cold after the initial note of shock. "Have you finally become so weak that you would commit suicide rather than find someone to kill you? Have you listened to nothing I have tried to tell you? At least tell me what it is that is so important"

It was Mazguul's turn to take time in her reply.

Her conversation the previous evening with Norviskrall and Claws had affected her far more deeply than she would ever allow them to know. Granted, she had said things in senseless heartache and had earned the 'grilling' from the Thur'ruk. It had not been fair to lash out at him as he had been the first one to question her, as it had not been fair to snap at his words in mindless fear. He had been right, lone wolves had no place in a pack. Other orcs had suffered just as much as she had done, some far worse, and they had still grasped the idea of what a pack was - if they could, then she could. This she had not considered until she had been forced to look at just how much of an idiot she was being... there was no need to be completely alone any longer... they would watch her back... she would watch theirs...

"Something for the Tribe" she said quietly, and in true belief "that's what be more important. A patrol."

It would be the first time she had company other than that of Bryaugh on the day of when she had walked into her village three years ago to found her clan, her own pups and her mate dead, rotting in the sun. She only hoped that the orcs would at least forgive her low mood for she could only bury her feelings so deep especially when she was terrified that what had happened once before could possibly happen again.

She quickly stopped her thoughts in their tracks. She had more important things to think about. Such as impending battle.

Mazguul waited for the speaker to speak again, though instead what Mazguul heard made the She-Orc smile. A genuine smile rather than the ones she forced to come to her green lips.

Silence. Blissful, peaceful, silence.

[Norv]

(( Oh, nice! Thanks for the reading!
   And...

damned insomnia... *shrug*

... good night!     ))

[Mazguul]

Dusk again.

The seemingly plain She-Orc silently watched the embers of her fire as they began to dull. She had not bothered to light the fire again, lighting it at this time of the evening would only alert folk to her presence here.

A hand, scarred from finger tip to wrist, reached out and picked up an ember, or at least, an ember became stuck to her finger. Gripping such a tiny object was nigh impossible for Mazguul to do. The smell of burning flesh did not seem to bother her. The nerve endings in her finger tips had never healed so she was numb to pain. What caused her pain was the scarred tissue pulling at her normal skin. Sometimes her knuckles split open too under the strain of movement.

A sigh escaped her lips and the ember went out.

Mazguul had been sitting up here, in the Stonetalon Mountains, for a few days. Truth be told she was enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. There was also so much to contemplate.

Morgeth's deterioration was preying at the forefront of Mazguul's mind. For hours Mazguul had tried to follow Morgeth's beloved Kozgugore's trail but when someone didn't wish to be followed, and with Mazguul not knowing or understanding her 'prey' well enough, it had been a failed hunt. Mazguul had tried, she had failed and the hate filled glare she had received from Morgeth for not finding Kozgugore had Mazguul deeply worried. Mazguul knew well the pain accosiated with loss and she knew that some turned those feelings into something that person could deal with. Mazguul had turned her's into pure despair, whereas Morgeth seemed to be turning her's into rage. Mazguul only hoped that there was some Orc that could calm the fires in Morgeth's heart before it was too late. Rage and pregnancy made for a deadly combination for both mother and child.

Though there was more to it than that for Mazguul. She happened to like Morgeth and Mazguul wished that she had the words to sooth, whom she called, her first friend in years. But she did not have those words. 'Have patience' was all Mazguul knew, her own life was full of such examples - that this was not enough for Morgeth did not surprise her. If such a feeling of loss near killed the ever patient and ever laid back Mazguul then what it must be doing to Morgeth was not something Mazguul wished to dwell on.

"Perhaps if I keep looking for the Chieftain on Morgeth's behalf-"

A low growl made Mazguul flick her unusually deep-blue eyes to her wolf. She quickly realised what the growl was about and raised a hand. The wolf lay down at her feet, quiet once again while Mazguul slowly stood up to turn her head over her shoulder. The young Tauren that approached brought a smile to Mazguul's lips.

"Again?" the She-Orc asked

Mazguul received a nod in return. "Please" he replied "it is always good to have another set of eyes looking out at night. There have been a few sightings of Night-Elves to the North, far from their own settlement, I need not say more. And... here"

He handed Mazguul a small bag, which she took in both hands with a subconscious wince. She could smell the sweet scent of bread about it and almost drooled at the idea of eating something that hadn't been mauled by her wolf first.

"May the Spirits guide you" Mazguul said quietly in thanks and farewell

"May your ancestors watch over you" came his reply

Mazguul resisted the urge to point out that her ancestors didn't just watch over her but also meddled within her affairs, told her what to do, kept her up all night and were generally a complete pain in the proverbial backside. Instead she smiled and sat back down while the Tauren headed off once more. As soon as Mazguul was sure the Tauren was gone the bag was handed to the wolf who deftly tore the thing open for her. Mazguul had trained  him years ago to open things she could not manage herself.

As Mazguul chewed on the bread, and she had dismissed the idea of asking her anscestors to speak with Morgeth (the young warlock had enough problems without Mazguul's ancient family members also making Morgeth's life just as miserable as Mazguul's), Mazguul's thoughts and her eyes drifted down to the Tauren settlement below.

Days ago she had watched Knobbs and Norviskrall almost kill each other. She had not intervened. As far as she was concerned the reasons for their 'clash' had been legitimate and it was most certainly not her place to speak a single word against it happening. He who should have been victorious, was, and he who had lost had deserved it. She only hoped the Thur'ruk had learned his lesson

A snarl escaped Mazguul lips and for the first time in many years her eyes flashed with fury. If the Thur'ruk had not learned his lesson then he would face her. Mellow she might be but there were a few things in life that made her blood boil. This was one of those things... as far as she was concerned it was called cheating.

Still, here she was, watching over the settlement where the Tauren were tending to Norviskrall's wounds.

Norviskrall had given her a home, a place to belong and this was something she felt she could never repay him for... or the others, including Morgeth for that matter. She had followed Norviskrall's wolf to the cave to the Stonetalon Mountains. The beast seemed to know where it was going and she had trusted it. She had watched from a distance as the Tauren took Norviskrall and had followed them to be sure the Thur'ruk was well cared for.

Naturally in her haste, someone else had followed her, the young Tauren who she had just spoken with. Aside from the young Tauren, no-one knew Mazguul was there and he kept her secret in exchange for her services as a scout.

The random thought that she wished to know of Knobbs' fate popped into her head. She wished to voice her opinion to him that he had been right and then buy him a drink or four. He had made a lasting likeable impression on her. His honourable actions had granted him an even greater respect in her eyes and she still regretted her choice in not joining him for the slaughter at the docks. She had bitten down the fire in her heart as the Thur'ruk had demanded, that this may have made her appear weak to a warrior such as Knobbs was making her thirst even more for blood to prove to herself her worth.

She bit into the bread again, savouring the taste and putting all thoughts into the back of her mind again. If there was one thing she had learned it was not never take anything for granted. Even a simple glass of water should be enjoyed to the full. It was only now, since she had a new home, that she was truly remembering to honour that lesson.

There was also Burley that had her concerned. He too she had been searching for. That last time she had seen him, or heard from him, he had turned into a wolf creature-thing right before her eyes and run off into the hills of Northrend. That was weeks ago. Yet, that she had not been able to pin him, nor find him made her even more determined not to loose Norviskrall. Too many she had lost, too many she could not help or find. If she messed up watching over this settlement then she was of no more use than a peon.

Wolfing down the last mouthful of the sweet bread Mazguul shrugged her uniquly designed gun off her shoulder where it clattered to the floor. Bryaugh pulled off one of her boots with his jaws and did the same to the other boot. With her feet free Mazguul tied the gun to her right hand in a supreme display of gymnasics. Her toes could tie knots just as well as any other could with their hands. Failing the life of war, she had always joked with the idea of becoming a contortionist.

Once done she stood up again, getting her boots on with mild difficulty, a knuckle spilt open in the process of gripping the back of a boot between forefinger and thumb. She ignored the bleeding split. It was time to prowl the night. Insomnia had it's uses.

The average She-Orc with odd eyes patted her wolf to get his attention - she knew there was no point speaking to a creature that was deaf from being subjected to the sound of repeated gunfire. A hand signal was all the silver coloured killing machine needed to understand that it was time for work and not relaxation. His persona seemed to change in and instant. No longer was Bryaugh Mazguul's puppy but rather he was a ball of hate, scars and death. His yellow eyes, which had been loyal and loving, were now filled with insane blood lust, and they darted around in the dark. He headed off with his nose to the ground, Mazguul hard on his heels.

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

The next morning a young Tauren came into the village with an exceptionally unusual gun. The trigger was a hair trigger, the lightest touch could set it off. The gun was also unusually light, so light that one wondered if it was made of air, and it looked as though it was designed to be tied to a users hands.

The gun itself was put aside, deemed too dangerous for anyone except whomever owned it to touch. Hopefully the owner would return and remove the horrible thing from Sun Rock.

As for Mazguul... she and her wolf, the ever faithful Bryaugh, had vanished.

(( Written in a rush, sowwy. Off on holidays tonight. Back on Saturday. Later peeps *hug* ))

[Morgeth]

((Again, I loved it! Very nice atmosphere and your writing really draws me in <3))

[Mazguul]

(( Edited above 'mind fart' - added bits, moved bits, removed bits.... still not happy with it though And Thank's Morgeth ))

[Mazguul]

(( For those few actually interested, I'm back... damned server problems. Will be online asap. I hate this, so much missed.

Good holiday though. Ate too much *giggles* ))

[Norv]

(( Helloes! Good to hear it was a nice holiday *cheers*
    Don't mind the server. He's just envious. ))

[Mazguul]

Dusk had been and gone. But still, much had been discussed at dusk and this was what Mazguul wanted to consider.

The She-Orc shook a shoulder and from said shoulder a young raptor-like creature fell to the ground. No sooner had she done this then mad-eyed wolf launched himself into his meal. Mazguul sat down exactly where she was. Her view travelled down the mountains to see the Northern buildings of Hammerfall. There was so much history here, so much to remember and much to mourn. Yet much to be joyful for too. Even if she had only glanced Orgrim Doomhammer once, many years ago, for she had been in one of the first few internment camps to be liberated, she still felt a pang of loss at his passing.

Freedom was such a precious thing.

A scarred hand gently rubbed the back of the other as she let the wolf gorge on raptor innards. Her eyes, so unusually dark and so unusually blue, scanned for the signs of life. Her nostrils flared as she breathed deeply of the air, still no sign of the living... nor undead. A smile graced her lips and she looked at the raptor.

Hunting in the Arathi basin had been what Mazguul had decided to called a 'refreshing change'. Solely dedicating her hunting grounds to the Northern border of the Barrens had, she partially admitted, become somewhat tiresome. Though she would miss hunting elves. The purple skinned Night-Elves would forever be her favourite prey, especially since she had been held prisoner. Still, the beasts here proved to be a rewarding challenge and the occasional human she had heard tale about would certainly prove to be amusing when the chance came.

Knowing that she was alone the She-Orc quickly got her boots off, using her teeth and as soon as her toes were free she used her feet as one would use hands. She started a fire. Just a small one, it only needed to be small, this was not for light, warmth or cooking upon. She was up to something quite different and she only hoped that no-one would catch her doing such things. This was something she had learned from a whitchdoctor and she knew such things were normall frowned upon... but as she had pointed out to her sire, it wasn't her Grom-damned fault that 'They' wouldn't leave her alone.

As a burn scarred hand played with the flames Mazguul sighed deeply. In her youth she had tried to become a Shaman but she had been useless. She had the patience but she didn't have the knack. The only spirits that wanted to commune with her were the restless dead and the beasts that granted her boons for the hunt. The elements never even gave her the time of day and the rest of the spirits practically ignored her unless they wanted someone to complain at.

All she had known was war and so it had been the art of death bringing she had tried to perfect - this had failed too. She could have had her hands restored, she could have been the warrior her sire had hoped she would become, though she saw meaning her ruined hands as an affront to who she was and point blank refused to have it done.

Training beasts to do nothing but kill for a Master's pleasure had been the only thing Mazguul had flare for, hunting prey for weeks on end was a second. Though when it all boiled down to it she knew that it was patience that was her art.

A foot reached to her belt were a pouch lay and once opened with her toes she sprinkled the contents of the pouch onto the fire. The flames turned purple for a moment, the air filled with a sweet smoke and Mazguul inhaled as deeply as she could. As her eyes unfocused she began to hear voices.

"She looks lost in thought" said a voice from behind her. The voice had a note of ageing masculinity to it "let us wait till she realises we are present"

"Quick, someone make a loud noise, scare the living **** out of her" came a second voice, this one was gruff and male

"That ain't a nice idea" said a third voice, female perhaps

"And? Grom-Damned hilarious idea if you ask me" said the second voice, the gruff one

Mazguul rolled her eyes, they always forgot she could hear them whether they wanted her to or not. She had honestly thought it normal, as a pup, to see the dead wandering about and commenting on the living. She had learned so much from listening and even more when these spirits realised Mazguul could speak with them. As she got older they became harder to see, now she rarely saw them at all. If she did see them it was always on their terms. As for hearing them, they still couldn't stop her, especially when she opened up her senses enough.

Still the banter continued.

"She's summoned us, she hasn't done this in years, must be important" the first voice commented

"More important than...?" the gruff voice stopped where he was "Ey, watch yer proverbial tongues, she be listening. I definitely heard her smirk."

"Hear a smirk?" the third voice scolded the second "How can you hear a smirk? What the feck are you talking about you old-!?"

"Enough" this voice was a new female voice, a fourth voice, one that still made Mazguul shiver. She could feel the unease of the other spirits too, not just the three others but the others that had drawn close to see what was happening. Mazguul knew this voice well and was visited regularly by her "Let us hear what she has to say"

Mazguul waited for a moment and slowly looked up as three out of the four figures walked round her fire to sit before her. Each one slightly translucent to the eye, grey in tint. She knew the owner of the first voice to be a self proclaimed soothsayer from ages past. His chest was still wide open from the bear attack that had ended his old age. He used a stick to walk. The second voice belong to the old warrior before her, had he been alive he would have instilled fear into the heart of any foe. His armour mush have weighed a tone and Mazguul often found herself wondering if the axe on his back was really a weapon or just for show. The third voice was from a weepy eyed she-orc that even Mazguul had to say to admit that some Orcs really were ungly. As for the fourth voice, Mazguul had never seen and she knew not to look else the spirit would not return again for months.

For a while nothing was said until the ageing orc warrior looked around

"What does yah want?" he snarled angrily "We ain't got all night"

Mazguul raised an eyebrow, she wanted to point out that these spirits had the rest of eternity, so they certainly had all night, but she didn't. She needed to ask them questions. Not make them angry.

The She-Orc stared at her ancestors across the fire and felt the fourth somewhere behind her.

"The Path of War... is it for me?"

The spirits looked between themselves, muttering quietly, so quietly that Mazguul chose not to listen out of politeness. They seem agitated, the old warrior especially so. Eventually it was him that once again spoke to her.

"We ain't got a bloody clue what you is on about" he said matter-of-factly "You is Orc. You is War"

"Yes yes, you've told me this a thousand times" Mazguul replied tiredly. "What I were asking was, and I know you lot were listening last night coz" she pointed an accusing finger at the old warrior, who had the decentcy to look slightly embarrassed "you choking at the Thur'ruk's idea of me doing something more than the Path of War was Grom-damned off putting. Anyway" she lowered her hand "let's face it, I ain't a soldier, I don't want to be commanding orcs. I listen, learn and follow if I be thinking 'em not an idiot. I be a hunter and even then I don't do it for the blood... it be so much more than that, deeper than that-"

Mazguul was quickly silent as the voice of the Fourth came to her ears as if she were whispering into Mazguul's ear. Once again Mazguul faught not to look at the speaker.

"It sounds like you've all ready made up your mind" the Fourth said, clearly amused by something.

"I have?!" Mazguul blurted out "When did I do that?!"

The chuckle that came from the throats of each of Mazguul's usual spirit guides still hung in the air long after they had vanished from her sight. She relaxed and soon even their chuckles she could not hear. She used a hand to put out the fire and signalled for the deaf wolf to follow her back to Hammerfall.

She needed a drink and work out what in the Nether her ancestor had meant. They were others she would consult... another night.

(( Tah dah! Full of spelling mistakes and atrocious grammar probably. I really need to take more care with these. Which I will do! When I have the time... ))

[Norv]

(( Oh! Really nice story, thanks for the reading! ))

[Norv]

(( You stole ze story! Maz! Story! ))

[Mazguul]

(( No steal! Just moved - sowwy!

http://orcsoftheredblade.com/forum/index.php/topic,1902.msg18769/topicseen.html#new

See, see! No steal ))