A Saga Begins

[Morgeth]

((Mazguul, you cheeky orc! Lovely story, and makes for a very nice read. Perked my interest, to say the least))

[Mazguul]

(( Thankies for the kind words, Kozgugore and Morgeth =) ))

[Mazguul]

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?”

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?”

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?”

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 another”

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 ))

[Kozgugore]

(( 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! ))

[Burgorg]

((o.O.. you write so good..))

[Nergul]

(( Moar plox ))

[Morgeth]

((Mnuh! Welling up here. Poor, beautiful Mazguul. Lovely written! <3 Want moar! Never underestimate yourself, or your amazing character!))

[Mazguul]

(( Thankies for the kind words peeps - criticism is more than welcome too btw ))

[Mazguul]

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. ))

[Burgorg]

(( This is great! I shall raise your story and write my own about this!))

[Kozgugore]

Har! Would love to see Burgorg after that! Nice one! I likes.

[Morgeth]

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!

[Mazguul]

(( 'Vicious' doesn't suit Mazguul, 'wicked' does Thanks for the kind words peeps - I look forward to poor Burgorg's side of the story ))

[Mazguul]

(( 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."

[Burgorg]

((Luv it))