The Bowl

[Mazguul]

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

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

Orcs of the Tribe!

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

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

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

High Blade Mazguul Sharpeye

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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[Tarag]

Tarag holds the paper up once again while groaning.
He looks at it, he thinks, then he looks at it again.
"to fel and back with this..."
As he is about to drop the paper and let the wind carry it he hesitates for a second, looking at it again, folding it up, and sticking it into his satchel.
"later."

[Gordahar]

An empty sound filled the tent when Gordahar hit his forehead with his palm. He could not believe in himself being so blind! Actually it was always the opposite, he have considered himself sharp-minded! Therefore the fact that such an easy problem to solve took him so much time was rather embarrassing.

Still, he would be a fool to regret the effort he put into this matter. Visiting Garadar and recovering fading memories about the mighty Oshu’gun mountain was a beneficial experience and an occasion for religious reflection, an internal talk with ancestors, one could say. Also the story he created was... well, quite creative. Even though it probably was a pure work of imagination.

On the well-prepared parchment he wrote a list, addressing it to the Tribe’s spiritual leader, his new superior and brother same time. The writing looked like an lopsided, silly-looking hybrid of orcish language and unsuccessfully elven style of writing.

Great Thur’ruk Mazguul Sharpeye,

After an embarrassingly long period of reflection, I finally saw what was the intention of a writer. Even thou words defining elements, Holy Mountain, language of elements and others are definitely powerful ones, the proper text of the inscription can be noticed by looking at first letters only. Therefore it reads:

FILL BOWL AND SPIRIT SPEAKS OF THE WOLF CULT

The question has to appear in mind: have you ever filled it? Its effects could be interesting, especially that this sentence is too general to state anything in particular about the history. During my journeys through our ancestors’ homeland I had the honour to encounter the Spirit Wolf... Could the bowl be a way to contact with it? I would be honoured if You could write to me back, or tell me if we met, about further insight into the bowl’s matter.

Ready to serve,

Gordahar

He sighed long, and stood up with a groan. The emotions that arose in him after sudden discovery were slowly leaking out of him, though he was still quite angry with himself. He walked out of the tent and took a deep breath, looking at Nagrand’s astonishing planescape.

And then, after the second thought, turned around, sat down vigorously and started writing again.

Actually, my first idea was that the text tells about a belief, now forgotten. It stated that in the times our ancestors lived in Draenor, the elements were untamed, chaotic and destructive. The Spirits on the peak of Holy Mountain talked with them in Kalimag, the language understood by the nature’s forces. They were trying to peacefully calm the raging elements down. Nevertheless, it did not work and the Oshu’gun was in fire â€" either literally or metaphorically. The spirits therefore used their own power, or maybe power through shamans, and hunted elements, taming their rage and extinguishing fire. The clouds were then formed, as mixtures of elements but in ordered state...
Almost all words fit the story!
Still, it is probably untruth. But, well...
Who might really know that?

He couldn’t stop to smile widely while sending the letter, imagining Mazguul’s face expression after reading the story.