Detained

[Morgeth]

This story depicts certain events that occured on the afternoon of Sunday the 14th of November. I post them now, a bit in advance, because I think it'll serve its purpose more then. The story itself is based on RP between myself and one of Kozgugore's alts. I hope it's enjoyable. Not sure if any disclaimer is needed, it's some harsh language involved at worst.



Even though the peak of the day has passed with a few good hours, the warmth of the sun is still intense, as it shines down upon the orcs gathered just outside of Orgrimmar's gates. In the back rows of confused orcs, most muttering amongst themselves - albeit some yelling angrily - stands a warlock. Not particularly tall, nor broad, but Morgeth's still not easily lost in a crowd. This not so much due to her stature, as to her.. most piercing voice.
"W'at be th'damned problem? Jus' let us in!"
Whilst a few nod along with the female's words, the guards up front don't seem equally amused, and soon enough one of them - an orc clad in the armour resembling that of the Kor'kron - begins walking towards those who stand in the back. Shoving an inquisitative male to the side, the Kor'kron orc motion himself towards the warlock, giving her an intent look up and down, before snorting.
"Easy there, lady. You carrying any goods with?"

With an annoyed sneer, the young warlock opens her only bag, letting the male view the few goods she had bothered to bring with to this short venture. After all, the plan is to get in and out of Orgrimmar pretty fast, so that she can attend the tribe meeting in Razor hill.
"Got t'is 'ere bag wit' some gold, dried meat an' clot'."
Pausing briefly, she perks an eyebrow up to the plate clad orc.
"Tha' be 't, eh? T'is be takin' 'nough time as 't be."
As the Kor'kron again takes his sweet time studying her frame, quite possibly noting the simple fact that she's garbed in a dark, armoured looking robe, Morgeth lets out dry cough to underline her latest statement. He glances up towards her face, frowning briefly, before narrowing his dark gaze.

"We'll be done in a moment. I'll have to search you first. Spread your arms and legs wide."
A moment of silence falls between the two, as Morgeth's perked eyebrows seem to reveal her not too keen stance on spreading for the orc, in any way. Leaning in towards him, she lowers her voice to a hiss.
"Now tha' line might work on th'blind an' witless, bu' I ain't spreadin' shit, orc. I'll s'ow y'tha' I ain't got pockets on t'is t'ing, bu' tha' be all."
Looking at her in disbelief, most likely pondering her incompetence, the male Kor'kron shakes his head, lifting a hand to somehow accentuate the seriousness of his cause.
"That ain't going to cut it, lady. I'm going to have to make sure there ain't any objects underneath there. Don't make a fuss, ey? This won't take long."

His efforts are rewarded with a snarl, as the defiant female stares up towards the very much taller, and broader orc.
"Unless y'want t'friends t'call -y'- lady in th'future, I suggest y'keep y'ands t't'ose tha' be willin' t'roll 'round wit' swine. Tell m'w'at y'want t'see an' I'll s'ow, bu' y'll do so at a damned distance."
As she continues to prove unwilling to even try and follow his instructions, the male can't help but feel a deep sense of frustration for the whole mess. Gesturing more wildly towards her, he lets out an annoyed, little growl.
"Now listen here. We're here to keep order in town. You don't want to cooperate, we'll have to put you with the rest of those mumping cultists. That clear? We're looking for any cultists that might pose a threat to the city, and truth told, missy, I don't like your tone."

Needless to say, Morgeth's colourful past has brought her head to head with guards before, but then it usually involved her running pretty fast, and they trying to keep up. Now she has to stand here, after harving served the Horde faithfully for over two years, and be questioned by this son of an ogre? For the first time, perhaps in a long time, she's the one being questioned and shamed, and truth be told, it strikes a nerve.
"I already damned well gave y'co-operation. Said I'd s'ow y', eh? Ain't m'damned fault y'obviously wit' y'ead too far up y'arse tha' y'can'nae 'ear. As for m'tone, I reckon 't be w'at y'damned well get w'en y'grunt around like some damned boar 'mongst orcs. I ain't a gul'damned cultist! If I was, I would've sacrificed y'arse a long, long time ago!"

Perhaps things would have been different, had she only had it in her mind to speak a little softer, introduce herself with rank and name within the Red blade tribe, but such things are for the logical and - well, quite frankly - the sane. Another thing that would definitely have improved her chances, would've been if Kraag had not managed to use her old tabard as a makeshift diaper. Now no colours are there to don her chest as the Kor'kron judges her instead by her actions and her words. Eventually he grunts, motioning a hand for her to follow.
"Big words, that. Follow me, warlock."

In all honesty, the first thing that strikes Morgeth is that this seems like an improvement. After all, she gets to enter the city. Walking along with the Kor'kron, she becomes too preoccupied with watching the changes of the city, the strange markings scribbled over several of the walls, as well as the pitching voices of orcs crying out for their lost ones. Mindlessly trodding along with the male, she only starts to ponder their direction as they draw closer to the ring of Valor. Ironic, in a way, to end up here right now. After all, the tribe meeting wold've been held here, had it not been moved to Razor hill. As she ponders exactly why the meeting got moved, strong fingers all of a sudden close around her right arm. Morgeth's eyes widen, and as she looks up, she's met with the sight of an overseer, who nods at the Kor'kron in recognition. The warlock's mouth opens, but no words are produced. Had they been, they would've been drowned in the voice of the Kor'kron anyway.
"Another one, chief. This one ain't cooperating. Another one of those mumping cultists who think themselves higher and smarter than us."

The overseer nods, shoving a thumb over his shoulder to indicate that the cultist can be dealt with like the rest of her peers; shoved in to litter the arena floor whilst awaiting her judgement. Moments later, a particular warlock is dragged down towards the arena, snarling forth words profane enough to make even the most vulgar of elves gain a little blush. As the Kor'kron rewards her with a firm shove in her back, sending her stumbling in to be amongst other supposed cultists, she grits her teeth. As she slumps down next to a wall, throwing down her useless bag, the warlock rests her chin against her hoisted knees. Heaving a small sigh, Morgeth lifts a hand to cover her own eyes. At this rate, only one orc can solve this, and whilst her words through the link to the other red blades might be broken up and non-understandable, the ones she breathe here - in her loneliness - speak from the heart.
"Gul'damned, Kozgu. I could use y'now.."   

[Kozgugore]

Shows you, you loudmouth warlock! Was fun to RP this with you, as usual, not to mention reading it in your own style afterwards!

[Kragel]

Oh, my! I gotta say, I really enjoyed reading this. You described the environment around them and the frustration the two orcs were feeling very well. You made it easy for me to picture the scenes in my head, without boring me with the tiniest of details. Very good read, indeed!

[Braggha]

I want continuation of this!
A story, how grumpy Chieftan took her from there %)

[Grogok]

It was a really nice story to read, you wrote it, so it was possible to actually see the whole thing in my head
one thing though, that confused me has it already happen, or is it to happen that sunday in November?

[Kozgugore]

This happened during the whole Orgrimmar lockdown event before Cataclysm started.