Vox Infernal, Part II

Mograg still had not told Winatsha of the voice before they broke camp that morning and went their separate ways. A night's sleep had put the matter largely out of his mind. Other needs took precedent over somewhat clouded memories of the previous day. She was to spend the day on several tasks. Mograg prepared himself for the day's fight. Ogres that day, for the orcs of Garadar, and their war beads for himself. He felt an affinity to these orcs. He felt at home among them.

A long day of battle ensued. Night approached and he returned to the orc village. Tired and feeling the heat and burden of his armor, he stripped most of it away and stowed it. It was no lighter on his back, but he could set the pack down whenever he was not in motion. He replenished his ammunition pouch and set out again to Shattrath. He had business to attend there that could not be accomplished here. As he dismounted his wyvern, he caught the slightest hint of a familiar scent on the air. His business was forgotten. He smiled and walked into the bank directly to Winatsha, who returned his smile. "Fancy meeting you here," he grinned. She looked up to him, returning the grin. "How are you, love?"

All hints of happiness vanished. "Mmm..." She glanced around the bank, surveying the other patrons nervously. "I am..." she started. She fidgeted with her tail. "I am... well enough."

This is going to be like pulling teeth. "Well, that was terribly convincing," his voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Walk with me?" she pleaded.

He nodded his assent. "Let me check my mail quickly?" She nodded to him.

"Of course," she said. He returned her nod.

"Then, walk with me." He grinned. She's hunted. They walked together to the mailbox at the rear of the bank. The Aldor and other neutral parties there paid little heed to them. He checked the mailbox. "Nothing. Good." He smiled, more genuinely. "I prefer it that way. Shall we?" She smiled a bit, nodding absently to him. They walked toward the inner city of Shattrath, nearer the portals. She's hunted, and she reveals it to everyone around her, around us. "So, where shall we walk?" he asked casually. She gave him only a blank look. Scared beyond the capacity for rational thought. "We could go see a bit more of the fire festival, if you like," he offered.

"I..." she started again and fidgeted with her tail. "If you wish."

"It doesn't sound that you do. Tell me where you would like to go?" Or tell me where you do not wish to be, that would do.

She peered about, her eyes landing on faces for a moment before the next. Does she even know who stalks her? "I would prefer not to be around so many... One of our camps, perhaps? Or Mulgore? Or the Lower Wilds...?" she trailed off. She has no idea.

"Mulgore is close, in a way. Let's go there." The plains. Her stalker will be forced into the open, or to wait. Winatsha glanced around again, a slight frown furrowed her forehead. She nodded. They walked in silence to the portal that would carry them back to their homeland, their very home planet. She gently kissed his cheek before they stepped through.

The time between stepping through the portal and stepping out the other side always caused Mograg anxiety. It was not long, perhaps not even perceptible, but it tugged at his mind each time. That he always landed in the cavern that held the Pools of Vision, that those whom he saw first on each homecoming were undead aligned with the Apothecarium, did not make him any more easy. They strode out of the cavern, across the bridge from the Spirit Rise to the Low Rise, and headed directly down the lift to Mulgore. As they crossed the footbridge that connected the path over what amounted to not more than a small dip in the plains he saw her relax. Break the silence. "So..." What a foolish question. You're still going to ask it, aren't you? "How are you?"

Winatsha squeezed Mograg's hand. She glanced at him with troubled eyes before setting her gaze back on the well worn path. His own eyes had rarely left the path, determining what numbers had come before them, and how recently. He breathed deeply. No other people. Only the usual animals. No demons. He listened, favoring his good ear. No footfalls, snaps of twig, or brushing of grass. Good. Keep alert, bull. "I... have not had an easy day, my love. I do not know where to start," she said. She smiled small and apologetically, squeezing his hand once more. He returned the gesture.

"Anywhere would be better than nowhere, love," he encouraged.

"I found myself wandering this morning, unable to focus on any task for very long. When I finally admitted to myself I was getting nothing done, I decided it was time and past I visited home," she began. He nodded. "My family was gone, left at daybreak on a hunt." She fidgeted with her tail again. He glanced at her. Her eyes were unfocused, unaware. She said, "I mounted, setting out in the direction the hunters went, thinking I might catch up... Before long I found myself at the base of the Twin Colossals." They settled in near the shore of Stonebull Lake.

"Were they climbing again?" he asked. He watched for reflections in the water. He waited for the wind to reveal to him by noise or smell her stalker, but none came.

She glanced over at Mograg, smiling a bit. Her eyes quickly returned to seeing without seeing. "No, I lost the trail before the bridge near the coast. By the time I realized I had passed them, I decided it no longer mattered as much... I just wanted to ride, to feel the breeze and my kodo beneath me. When I saw the Colossal, I suddenly decided to go up, not really allowing myself to think of my limited options for coming back down." He nodded, aware that she did not find the same thrill he found in leaping from that height. She grinned and shook her head a bit. "I am unsure how long I stayed... An'she seemed to have jumped across the sky in the blink of an eye..." She began to fidget with her tail again as she, too, stared at the water.

"He has a way of doing that, at times," Mograg offered. She nodded absently.

"I found myself atop the Colossal, entreating the spirits for guidance." She tucked her hooves close to her body, curling up, into herself. Nervous, now, but a different kind. "The Winds answered my call... they were... not pleased with me."

"Mmm? Alright." He was spiritual, certainly. If she had said she asked the guidance of her ancestors, he would know better how to react. The elements were her guides, in their most raw form. While not a foreign idea to him, he did not relate as well. She hesitated again, still slow to speak what was on her mind. The beast spoke up for him, catching him by surprise, "I would ask why, but I assume you will get to it when the time is right."

She peered at him a long moment before continuing, "I have been blind to certain truths about myself, though the spirits have tried to help me see."

Mograg tilted his head a bit to one side. He did not understand, nor did he understand why it was taking so long to get to the cause of her earlier paranoia. "Go on?" Easy, bull. You love her, remember?

She lowered her muzzle slightly, her eyes transfixed on her hooves as she spoke, "Though I would never have thought of it in such a way, I put myself in a position of leadership when I hung the first scroll from a tree, announcing I was seeking other Shu'halo to rekindle the old ways. I have been pacing in circles, frustrated and discouraged that so few showed interest that I could not see the obvious." She looked to him. "There was little to show interest in." She shook her head a bit and smiled sheepishly. "Why would anyone wish to follow the path I have been on? Chasing my tail as I've been."

Sympathy found its way back into his demeanor. "It's not such a bad tail to chase," he deadpanned. She blinked in surprise, then laughed at him. "Please, continue," he encouraged, politely this time.

She cuddled against him now and sighed softly. "I am at a crossroads... I cannot continue as I have been, that is clear," she said.

"So, you have decided on which path to take, then?" The crossroads, even in their metaphorical sense, must be a very busy place these days. How many of our spirits are standing there? She nodded slowly to him. "That's something, then."

"The easy path is well worn," she continued, "and it stretches out with a welcome familiarity." She lifted her muzzle a bit and returned her gaze to the water, looking out across it. "The path I walk, I will have to beat as I go." Mograg nodded. She found his hand again with hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, a gesture returned by him in kind. "I hope you will keep me company..." She smiled softly up at Mograg.

Memories of the the white bull, her Greatfather, who approached him in Feralas as she lay sleeping at their riverside camp suddenly resurfaced in his mind. A path often difficult, yes. You and I both knew that, ancient one. I am not so young myself. Noise on the stone interrupted his thoughts. The Elder of the clan had just made his presence known, and those quiet before called out in greeting to him. "Yes, love, surely." He paused a moment. Directly, this time. No more open-ended questions. "But, this cannot be what drives you to seek near-solitude nor what put the paranoia of stalked prey in your eyes earlier."

She closed her eyes and began breathing slowly through her nostrils. The old nervousness has returned. Good. "I was..." she frowned, "...contacted... early this evening, just before I came to Shattrath." Her speaking was labored and slow, as it had been most of the evening.

"By anyone in particular?" the bull's pragmatic side knew no sympathy. She fidgeted with her tail once more.

The voice from the previous night returned, as if to answer his question. "How are you, Mograg?" Zurrikan. He will wait.

"A presence... in my mind... I think..." she frowned darkly. She hesitated.

The voice came to him again, "Mograg?" Good job, bull. You should not have left her alone. Why didn't you tell her of the voice? Foolish pride.

She found the words, finally, "I think it was what Elder Dusthoof was trying to warn me of." Her hunch is not proof of it. Find out more. And what does he want?

He asked internally of the voice, "A bit busy at the moment. You?"

The voice replied almost too quickly, "Busy? What with?" He's far too interested. He wants something. If I'm right, he wants to know where we are. Ignore him.

To Winatsha he said, "Okay. Care to explain a bit?"

She looked to him with troubled eyes once more. She seemed to him searching for the words she needed. "It warned me..." she settled on, for a moment. She shook her head. "No, it threatened me. It said... it said it was coming for me."

Mograg's pragmatism took over again. "Hmm. Well..." He examined her. "How concerned are you of it?"

"Is there something the matter, Mograg?" the voice asked. Why jump to that conclusion, unless you expect it is so? You do not know me, nor should you care.

She twisted the tuft at the end of her tail. "I am not sure..." Clearly. You fidget and your eyes dart about, but look at you. She peered at him a long moment.

In more of a grunt, "Not concerned enough to keep your arms and armor on you," he pointed out.

She nodded slowly. "I am not certain what the danger is, but I felt malice in its touch on my mind." Zurrikan. "But, I have felt the same type of malice from corrupt spirits," she shrugged lightly. "I was in the Felwood... perhaps... perhaps that is what it was? An unusually strong, corrupt spirit..."

Mograg's next thought was interrupted by another noise over the stone. A soft giggle, amused but timid in being so. It was Milanna. She sounded happy, and he was glad for it. Someone ought to find happiness in the day.

He shrugged at Winatsha, "It could be anything." You still don't tell her? How much more evidence do you need? Are you that afraid to be wrong, to not be infallible?

More sound came over the stone, but right now it was comforting, and he did not dismiss it as noise. This time, the high-pitched voice of a pale elf, her name Ceitidh. She was a huntress, and a relative newcomer to the clan. "Hmm?" she asked after the giggle.

"Oh, ah... just some, ah... interesting goings-on in Thunder Bluff..." Milanna, in his head and in the heads of any clan member paying attention at the time, giggled again.

He looked at Winatsha, "Any hunter that announces its intention to stalk you as prey can only have one goal, in my experience."

Ceitidh asked, "What is it?" She'd asked Milanna, but the same question was unspoken by Winatsha, peering up at Mograg now with a tilted head.

Mograg chose his words carefully. In the interim, Milanna gave an explanation. "A shaman... he is giving the waterwalking ability to people... they are dancing on the pond. N-nothing too exciting... b-but it made me giggle." A sudden wave of guilt crashed over Mograg as Milanna spoke. I need to fix this, but the time is not now.

The huntress Ceitidh laughed, though it seemed not genuine. "Does sound silly," she said, all of it inaudible to Winatsha.

Before Mograg could recompose his thought, the voice interrupted again, "At least tell me where you are... I'd love to help." So be it. But not tonight. I will let you think you are close some other night. I need to know more about you first. His eyes narrowed. He surveyed the horizon, taking it in all there was to see, to smell, to hear. He concentrated on the world around him.

He spoke to Winatsha, "That is to flush the prey out into the open so it might be hunted more easily. One can have another scare rabbits toward them out of the undergrowth. You are, in this case, the rabbit." She frowned slightly. He had not meant to say so condescendingly, but by her actions to this point it was truth enough. Winatsha seemed lost for words.

Ceitidh spoke again, "Umm... is...is anyone else near there..?" Two stalkers, or does he use her to gain knowledge? Time to tell her what you know, before it gets too difficult to explain succinctly.

"That potion-seller seems to have taken an overly-active interest in me," he said plainly. Conversation on the stone continued, while Winatsha looked at him, puzzled.

Milanna asked, unsure, "H-here?"

"Any other of the clan near the bluffs?" Ceitidh called out again. "In Mulgore, perhaps?" I wonder if she has an inkling I might be. She sounded a bit desperate this time, "Mograg?" Shit.

Pretend you heard nothing. "Mmm? Yes?"

"Are you and your lady in Mulgore?" she asked. The guilt crashed down on him again. There's no reason to believe she is in danger. Those who knew before, know now.

Not a yes, bull, and not a no. "Mmm. Why?" Mograg always found it educational to see how ambiguous responses were interpreted. Often, he found, those on the other end of the conversation would reveal clues to their state of mind by assuming them to mean one thing or another. "What you need?" he asked.

"I need you to be cautious... Have you met a warlock named Zurrikan?" She didn't go for it. Zurrikan again. One stalker, or more?

"Mmm. What about him?" he asked internally, still neither confirming nor denying.

To Winatsha he grunted, "Hmm." She tilted her head as she waited. "Hold on a moment, love." He found it difficult to converse like this, in the flesh and in his mind.

"You have?" Ceitidh asked, shakily. Such fear. I thought she was a Huntress? And a pessimist, too, should her fear be genuine.

"Strange things are afoot," he said to Winatsha. She nodded to him, fidgeting with her tail again.

Internally, he asked in a calm voice, "Tell me of him, Ceitidh."

"Don't trust him!" Ceitidh exclaimed. "Not a word!"

"Why is this so?" Mograg asked.

"He... he.. he's evil.. possessed by a demon- possibly several.." she trailed off.

Mograg began to unfasten his pack. "Do you still have those potions that we were sold?"

"How you come to know this?" Stay guarded, bull.

Ceitidh's answered, "Stole...murdered.. tormented.." She had trailed off again. An embarrassment. Still, she is no Shu'halo.

Winatsha nodded and took the three vials, Elixirs of Wisdom by their trade name, from her pack. Mograg nodded to her and removed the two potions for increased agility from a padded pocket. He removed their stoppers and poured them into the ground. He shielded Winatsha with his body. Should they react, she would at least have him as cover. He watched the liquid, waiting. Nothing. "Do the same," he commanded. There's a gold coin well spent.

He asked of Ceitidh, "Tell me more, mmm?" The beast had influence on his words again, though his tone remained neutral. "Less one word at a time, more many word at a time."

Ceitidh babbled, frantic, "He.. he used me... took a shard that belonged to my Love.. killed for it- tortured others because they know me..."

Winatsha, looking at him with confusion, obeyed. She removed the stoppers and poured them into the ground. He was unsurprised to find there was no harm caused by this. "I am hearing a story about Zurrikan," he said. "From one in the orc clan." He rarely spoke of the Tears of Draenor by name. Not anymore. Winatsha blinked in surprise.

Ceitidh continued, babbling, "Is whispering in my ear of a tauren couple he's watching- how he plans to hurt them.." A soft gasp was heard in his mind. Milanna.

Mograg now spoke to Winatsha, "To sum up..."

She interrupted, "He is contacting me..."

He cut her off and barked his command, "Ignore it." More civil, he continued, "He's looking for us, which I knew. He's possessed by an array of demons." Winatsha shuddered at the word. "She says he took a shard that belonged to or came from her love, killed for it, tortured others because they know her."

Ceitidh, now sobbing, "and how it's my fault.." Then why have you not done something? I thought you are called a Hunter? Do I have the names confused?

"And," his explanation continued, "he is currently whispering in her ear of a taruen couple he's watching, and how he plans to hurt us, presumably." Winatsha's eyes fly wide. "And something about it being her fault."

No pity, no remorse, and certainly no fear. "And... Why you do not end him?"

Audibly, Mograg sighed. Alright, a little bit of remorse.

"How?" Ceitidh asked of him.

The beast within him demanded control. Mograg allowed it only to be heard, "Same way I end any other demon any other day? Or is he super-demon? Made of bullet-proof demon-stuff?"

Ceitidh sighed, inaudibly. "He has several in him. And the shard keeping him alive contains part of my beloved's soul as well." Pfft. "Though, I guess I have mostly been afraid..." That's more like it.

The beast in Mograg called out, taunting, "Is okay. I have several shells." It's fear that stays her hand. She is weak.

"Put on your gear," he told Winatsha. "Until I get more information, I think it's best we go to Nagrand." She nodded. He began to pull his armor on. He knew she would go to camp. He needn't speak it. As he pulled his goggles down over his eyes he asked, "Shall we?"

"I am ready," she said.

"I shall see you there, love," he assured her. He blew a kiss to her. She approached and kissed him lightly on the cheek. They stood, facing each other. She started to teleport, and he after her. They would not arrive together, but he would not leave her behind. In a moment, he was untold distances away, back in the orc village of Garadar. He summoned his wyvern to him and took wing. While flying over Nagrand he asked one last question of the huntress, "How is it he knows I know you?"

"He doesn't. He chose you at random. I'm just grateful I do know you and can warn you," came the reply.

Mograg grunted. He would be at camp soon.

"The rest of the story, as I've gathered it so far," Mograg said as he dismounted the wyvern, "is that he is kept alive by a soul-shard of her now deceased love, and we were chosen at random." Winatsha frowned darkly. "I'd say we were at the wrong place at the wrong time, but we were headed to the Bluff. It seems like the right place for us to have been. Several demons inhabiting one undead body seem more out of place." She nodded.

More talk on the stones. Athalia had arrived. Mulkanus greeted her, and she returned in kind. Ceitidh spoke up again, "I know it's my fault this monster is loose- even though he admits to using me... And I know I have to fix it. Somehow." She accepts blame then makes excuses. She accepts responsibility and has no plan. It shames her, and now she must speak of it. Good. Maybe it will drive her to end it sooner. I will use that later, if I must.

To Winatsha he spoke again, "Personally, I don't know that I trust her any more than I do him at this point. I don't really know her at all. She is one of the new ones. A pale elf."

Winatsha tilted her head and looked at him. "But... didn't you say she is from your clan?"

Ceitidh sighed in his head, "Just please- all of you- beware of Zurrikan."

He looked at Winatsha. He was incredulous, and cold. Had she forgotten already? Surely, she must feel the scar on his belly, though the length of his fur conceals it. She knew its story. She knew of that betrayal, and of the one that followed. Young. Very young. "I've been given more than enough cause to not trust clan members simply because the elders thought it wise to induct them."

She blanched and nodded. "I'm sorry... of course..." She fidgeted with her tail.

He nodded, then shrugged.

They settled into camp. It was not the easy rest to which they were accustomed. After long moments of silence, Mograg finally spoke again. "I'm not going to worry overly much about this, love. Enough to put on my armor, but not enough to hunt him. I'll leave that to her." She nodded. He thought about demons, and the last hunt he went on for any of appreciable power. He hunted with the clan, then. "Frankly, I've met an Eredar. In the realm of big, scary demons the little guy we saw in Mulgore is about as worrisome as a cloudy day."

Winatsha looked at him with slightly tilted head. "Eredar?" she asked.

"Mmm.... Hrm. If I understand everything properly, which, well, I've been known not to follow Orcish conversations before... Eredar are big demon-corrupted draenei. Or, are demon-corrupted and look more like the draenei did. Something along those lines. Demons from yet another world."

She frowned, nodding slowly. "I see."

"If you do, you're one up on me," he gave a slight smirk. She grinned. "The more I learn of history, the more convoluted and implausible it seems."

"Mmm, perhaps that is why the old stories are told in such simple terms," she offered.

Mograg smiled. Young. Very young, but not without her own wisdom. "Mmm. Probably so. Though, our oldest stories have no need to explain demons from alien planets."

She nodded, "That is true."

They did not sleep at camp that night. They stayed there the remaining evening, but before sleep they sought refuge in Garadar. He had come to know several of the orcs there personally. They've slept there before, when there was no cause for worry. They would sleep there tonight, to ensure no cause would make itself known.

Read more...

...summary only

Vox Infernal

Act your age, bull. This is hers. It would be no more right of you to take control of the situation than it was of them to do so. It is not your place. She is smart. She will do as the spirits guide her. It is not your place, though most of them are your clan.

Mograg frowned as he continued to watch and listen to Winatsha's gathering be trampled by so many who talk over everyone else. He felt especially bad for some, those who were new to the circle and had expressed interest in what Winatsha was trying to do, yet were given no room to speak. He felt terrible for an undead woman who called herself Ruth, gifted with a very pleasant singing voice matched by the sharp wit to conjure songs on the spot, and knew many more from her childhood. She was going to sing for the group at Winatsha's request when one who was so elevated within Mograg's clan, and by others, had the audacity to walk in to the meeting and spout his disapproval at some poor youngster who knew no better. Embarrassment had long overtaken anger at the situation, and he stayed his tongue. This is hers.

Of those who had paid visit, some had shown proper respect, but it was rare and fleeting. Stamp never arrived. Mograg had sought to speak with him on a matter that he felt urgent. Perhaps he had informed the others of Winatsha's gatherings. The last gathering had just been the three of them. This week, the clan descended on the shamanness, caught unawares. In a word, she was overrun.

As Ruth spoke her farewells, he could hear that group disturbing the tranquility of the village once more. They shouted to one another like children. Ridiculous. Do not give in, bull. Act your age, even if they do not. His will was not as strong as his rational mind implored him to be. He bellowed out above the rest of the din, yelling in Orcish, "Shut up, all of you. Show respect." The yelling ceased. Winatsha paid little attention to his outburst nor his muttering that followed. The undead woman chuckled lightly and concluded her farewell, promising more songs of her youth as she recalled them.

It was hearing his name that caught his attention again. Inaudible to the others near him, the higher-pitched voice of a pale elf, her name Ilemnemis, intoned in his head. "I am sorry, Mograg. I just don't want one more person mad at me. And Meo, well, he is a legend." So rarely did he actually enjoy that voices of those within his clan, their stones attuned together as part of the induction ritual, could invade his own thoughts.

The effort of will to cause his own voice to imprint similarly on those in the clan had become negligible through much repetition. Many had practiced such that they might push not only their own thoughts through the stones, but the sounds of their environment and feelings of their own moods and gestures as well. Some, given the right concentration, seemed to be able to describe in excruciating detail a particular object just by speaking its name. Mograg did not care for such noise, nor did he wish to make it. He did, however, prefer to grunt and make other inarticulate sounds when the occasion struck. Sensing the time was right, he replied with a simple, "Pfft." It said little, implied nothing, and meant less. The one known as Meo made an inquiry, subsequently, in an apparent attempt to assess Mograg's intention. Mograg by then had lost interest in it entirely and his mind focused once more on the conversation around him.

Ruth departed to join the others. Two bulls remained. One of Winatsha's small group, Nchabichih, and the young bull who made the wild claims earlier. Nchabichih spoke his farewells and made motion onward. The young bull tarried a bit longer, seemingly lost for what to do next. In that time, yet another of his clan made her way to Winatsha and Mograg. Her name was Key. Mograg would not be quick to call her friendly, but certainly always polite. Mograg, frustrated with the evening, was less so. As Key began to bow to Winatsha and Mograg, he pointed toward the others and stated, "All the odd ones go that way. So, you are best to stay this way." He smirked at her, but his feeble attempt to hide his disdain with humor was seen through easily. She stopped mid-way through her bow, gave a scowl, and headed deeper into the village of Bloodhoof toward the others. The young bull, at a loss, followed. Well played, you old fool. She meant no harm whatsoever. Hopefully, she will be quick to forgive and forget the offense.

The goal, though, had been achieved. He and Winatsha finally stood together without others underfoot after a long evening of waiting. Winatsha's slow nod in response to his curtly asked, "May we?" was a reminder to him that it was well beyond time to regain his calm. "Good," he said, and offered his hand to her. She squeezed his hand and leaned heavily against him as they made the walk back to Thunder Bluff from Bloodhood Village.

Shortly after they crossed the bridge over Stonebull Lake, Mograg spoke. "I am sorry for that, love."

She blinked in surprise. "What have you to be sorry for?" She looked at him, the confusion evident in her face.

Mograg had become aware some time ago that he was perhaps too quick to see wrongdoing, and even more rapid with an apology. "Hmm. Alright, perhaps nothing. I was going to apologize for my clan, that they descended upon your gathering and took it over as their own. Perhaps you do not see it the same as I do." One who he had met just the previous evening, a self-deprecating Tauren who was much lauded for his cooking, rode past on his kodo. "And that one is on his way to join them."

Winatsha fidgeted with her tail a bit. "I had hoped for greater attendance... you have heard me often enough to know my disappointment when none have shown. But now..." Winatsha frowned.

Mograg interrupted, "It's not the number. It's the lack of respect they have shown."

Winatsha replied, "I am the one who put the posters on every tree, post, cairn... if there is a fault, it is mine." An undead man in a tuxedo walked past them as they neared the lifts up to the Bluff, exclaiming an Orcish sound of surprise from behind them. Winatsha continued, "I was surprised to see Issaela, but, pleasantly so."

The undead man now demanded their attention. "Hello there!" Mograg and Winatsha turned. The undead man waved and called out, "Big guy!"

"Mmm?" Mograg watched him through the lenses of his goggles. The lens over one eye spun slightly, focusing.

"You look like a nice strong man, yes. Help a corpse out?" the undead man spoke cheerily.

"Bull, but, go on. What you need?" The Orcish words, once more on his tongue, felt as foreign as ever.

"Business is slow... would you buy something, maybe?" He seemed the part of a salesman. Already, too, he was at least trying to earn honest coin instead of begging for it as Mograg had seen so many other times.

"Mmm. What is it you sell?" Mograg asked.

The undead man laughed. "Gone and forgot my trade..." Perhaps not a salesman, after all. Either very new, or knew how to give that impression. "Yes, you may call me Zurrikan. My trade is potions. Buy a bottle?" Zurrikan paused briefly, his focus becoming Winatsha. "Or the lady!" The undead man bowed politely before Winatsha, who appraised him with a slightly tilted head. He had already made his appraisal of her. "You look... erm... spiritual... Buy an herb, perchance?"

Winatsha returned his bow with a curtsey, smiling at the undead man. "The Eathmother provides all the herbs I could ever want for."

"Oh, I'm sure she does." Zurrikan smiled at Winatsha, who maintained her own smile at him. "But how often does she have a full bushel of Liferoot? Or a petal of Arthas' Tears?" He had missed his mark. She was no alchemist.

Mograg interjected, "Mmm. Which do you have made?" The bull had meant the potions that the undead man had purported to sell.

"Oh, my last few batches, yes. Elixir of Wisdom, Elixir of Minor Agility, and Discolored Healing Potion." The trade names for each potion were commonly spoken by both those who produce and consume them. "I can make others by request, yes, but that is what's on me..." he quickly added.

"The one for swiftness of hand. How much, mmm?" Mograg still respected the salesman for making an effort. Most of these things are traded through the auction house. It was somehow more satisfying to purchase this from someone face-to-face.

"Perhaps I could find use for an Elixir of Wisdom..." Winatsha added.

"Oh, I believe in kind trade. Do name your price." Zurrikan politely bowed, and Mograg did so in return.

The civility of the gesture reminded Mograg of his own manners, "Mmm, first, I am called Mograg. It is rude of me not to tell you so, when you tell me your name. I am sorry."

Winatsha blushed softly, now reminded by Mograg. "And I am Winatsha."

"No problem, my good steer." Mograg smirked as the undead man referenced him as such. He began to bow repeatedly to Winatsha. "A million times of apologies for not asking, my lady." She smiled, shaking her head a bit. "I have two bottles of agility left."

"Mmm. I would give a gold coin for those." Mograg had a sense for what they would sell for at auction. He expected to haggle, so priced them a bit low.

Zurrikan laughed. Mograg readied himself for the haggling. Zurrikan ceased laughing, and surprising Mograg continued, "Oh... erm I mean yes! A fair price!" He produced the potions and handed them to Mograg, "There you are... heh... Wonderful." Zurrikan grinned at Mograg, who promptly thanked him. "And the lady wanted the fancy stuff, hmmm?"

"And how many of the wisdom elixirs have you?" Winatsha asked.

"I have three in my pockets, and ten more in the bank," he replied.

"Mmm, would fifty silver each be a fair price? If so, the three you have at hand will do nicely," she offered.

Zurrikan gave off a huge smile. "I dunno... that's scratching it... but, okay!" He laughed as the exchange of coin for vial was made. Rubbing his new coins together he said, "Thank you, good... cow... people..." He smiled, more innocently.

Mograg chuckled and Winatsha laughed softly. She admonished, "We prefer Shu'halo... or at least Tauren."

"Oh yes, Tauren." Zurrikan laughed as Winatsha smiled. "I forgot, mmhmm. I'll be back up to the city then... you snatched up my best merchandise. At a wonderful price, I might add." Another bow, this time for departure.

"Good night, Zurrikan. May trade treat you well." Mograg bowed, Winatsha curtsied, and the undead man went off alone, cackling. Mograg and Winatsha gave him plenty of room to get ahead before ascending on the lift themselves. They settled in near the shore of the pond, and Mograg begain to speak his native Taurahe again. "Not a bad one, him."

No sooner than Mograg spake it than a voice began impressing itself upon his own thoughts. "Mograg, was it?"

Presumably, it was Zurrikan once more. One day, bull, you will have to rid yourself of this accursed stone. He reflected briefly on the time that he threw it away as he walked down the main road of Durotar. To his dismay, the words "If found, return to Mograg. Reward." he had once had carved on its backside did their job unfailingly.

Winatsha, with no way of knowing that the conversation went on silently between Mograg and the now presumably absent Zurrikan, agreed. "Mmm, he seemed pleasant enough."

"Mmm. That is me," his reply to the voice came naturally, and seemed to hit its mark.

"Good name..." the voice continued.

Aloud, Mograg spoke only the word "Certainly," now agreeing to Winatsha's agreement, absent-mindedly.

"You're no doubt an admirable figher? Am I right?" the voice continued.

"Ah, mmm. Sort of, but, thank you. It depends on what you mean. I shoot more than I swing a sword," Mograg replied inaudibly.

"Right right... The dog. You're a hunter, then?"

"A hunter, yes." Mograg's patience began to wear thin again. Perhaps he has work for me now.

Winatsha leaned heavily against him. Almost on cue, the voice asked, "And how do you know that woman?"

Mograg wrapped his arms around Winatsha as he replied, "I have known her some time. She is my love."

"Your love... delicious..."

"Delicious?" That's not a word to describe this, bull. You know more than enough Orcish to know that his choice of word here is somehow wrong. Why are you answering him? He is not known to you, and not to be trusted. Trust your instincts. You know better. Mograg debated with himself briefly. Part of him knew that his paranoia was irrational. Part of him knew it was well-founded. He mulled it over, cursing himself for his mistake. No need to worry her, at least not yet. Speak.

To Winatsha now, Mograg spoke in a much more subdued tone and through his smirk. "I don't think I'll be winning any popularity contests within the clan soon."

She tilted her head a bit to look at him. As she did, the voice prodded, "Mograg, tell me. How is Winatsha? Doing well?"

"Why do you say that, love?" she asked.

He just saw her, just met her. He just met you. There is no good reason for him to ask this. The questions have begun to get too personal too quickly. He is trying to establish rapport with you, bull. This is a deception. Do not give into it. "She seems to be. Why do you ask?" Mograg answered the question silently with a question of his own. To Winatsha he grinned a bit.

The voice continued, rapidly. "No reason no reason. Just trying to be nice." After a moment of hesitation it continued, "Don't you find it odd that you're hearing a voice? Most people lose it at this point..."

Zurrikan walked up exclaiming, "You two are too cute!" He sat down, uninvited, near them.

Mograg continued in Taurahe to Winatsha, "One does not publicly call out many of them as disrespectful all at the same time and become more popular for it. Such is the way of things." Satisfied that he had finished that part of his conversation, he looked to Zurrikan.

Zurrikan mimicked a fragment of the Taurahe that Mograg had spoken, "Yes yes... Kee awak rah ovaktalo and all that..."

Mograg continued his conversation with the voice in his head, now aloud, "Hearing a voice is a small worry at this point, Zurrikan. I hear too many, more than I care for." He let out a hearty chuckle.

Zurrikan addressed him, "Eh? What are you talking about?"

Mograg tilted his head from side to side. Either the voice is not his, he's playing a game, or his sanity is not there. It does not matter which. Trust your instincts. He grunted.

Zurrikan spoke, "You're strange... The both of you..."

A young bull speaking in Orcish more broken yet than Mograg's trotted up to them. "You like kill Alliance?"

Mograg replied, "Only when it must be done."

"There two here. One rogue, one druid. Last time I saw them druid was on elevator."

The voice returned, "He's not the brightest, is he?"

If the voice is not Zurrikan's, it belongs to someone who perceives the area around him. If it is Zurrikan, he plays games or is not himself sane. Be more wary, bull. Mograg gave no reply, neither internal to the voice, nor outward to Zurrikan. Instead, he spoke to the excited young bull, "Probably here for the fires." Winatsha sighed, and the young bull trotted off, presumably to find someone else to engage in unnecessary combat so he might be a spectator.

Zurrikan asked, "No doubt you two share a home... Nearby, perchance?" Zurrikan yawned sleepily.

"Our people are, mmm, nomads. We are much the same. We sleep where we are tired." Well done, bull. You have kept control of the situation. No one knows any more, it is truth enough, and Winatsha won't be compelled to answer him further.

"But there are so many lovely homes in this city... It's a wonder you haven't staked one as your own..." Zurrikan continued.

The young bull returned, once again insisting that because the guards had become alarmed that there was cause for bloodshed. "If they are Alliance," Mograg assured him, "and they are here, then the guards will be alarmed one way or the other." The young bull wandered off again. Mograg shook his head and shrugged. He was thankful for the interruption to the line of questioning.

To Mograg's dismay, the undead man continued. "There are empty houses the size of that weapon shop on the other side of town... Always wanted a house of my own..."

Mograg smiled, falsely now, at Zurrikan. He was weary, and Zurrikan had become the source of his weariness. Zurrikan now turned and poked roughly at Gunnar. The normally docile wolf growled. Mograg offered, "More gentle, and he will be more gentle, too. Then you only must to worry about drowning in slobber." Must to worry. Well done, bull. Leave him thinking you're more simple than you are. Mograg grinned, in part at his own cleverness, but more that Gunnar's change in demeanor indicated that he was not alone in not trusting the newcomer.

"I don't know... Dogs never seemed to like me," Zurrikan said. He sighed.

"Most times, he is very friendly," Mograg assured.

"Oh burn it all... I must off... Till then, Mograg." He smiled at Winatsha, and addressed her by name. She waved.

"Good night, Zurrikan." Mograg returned to his native tongue and spoke to Winatsha. "I may have made a friend," he said, facetiously. "Where were we?"

Winatsha looked distracted. She said, also returning to her use of Taurahe, "We were talking about the strange turn of events at tonight's gathering..." She fidgeted with her tail.

It was one of her nervous habits. She did so frequently. Earlier, at her gathering, one who she had not known long herself had pulled her away from the rest. She had been troubled by whatever had been said, but speaking of it had to wait until later. "Mmm. You've been upset by the message you received."

Winatsha frowned a bit, nodding. "I am... unsure... what to make of it." She peered up at him a long moment, her eyes troubled.

She had kept some things secret from Mograg in the past. He was never sure whether he should ask at any given time for more information. "Would you like to share the message with me, then, or no?" Mograg asked.

"Elder Dusthoof seems to think there is a danger coming, though, he could not put a name or face to it," she replied.

Zurrikan. "Love, so far he has told you only what is either obvious or so vague it cannot help but to be true." Mograg emphasized his neutrality toward it with a slight shrug.

She frowned slightly and nodded slowly. "He speaks as the spirits do, with riddles and a shadowy tongue. But that does not mean his warning should be dismissed." She twisted the tuft of hair at the end of her tail between finger and thumb.

"Nor should it be readily believed as prophecy," he argued. Winatsha nodded. "It reminds me of something I was told once." She tilted her head as she listened to him. "Sometimes communication must be more vauge and irritating than is absolutely necessary to convey certain dangerous complexities." Winatsha frowned at him, shaking her head a bit. "No?" he asked.

"I did not realize you spoke with spirits, love," she grinned ruefully.

"I speak with engineers." Winatsha blinked, then laughed softly. Mograg continued, "A gnomish engineer taught me that turn of phase, painstakingly enough."

Winatsha sighed softly, leaning heavily against Mograg. He gave her a gentle squeeze. "I will try not to worry about his warnings, though I cannot discount them either. Even he was unsure what danger he was warning me against."

"Going gray prematurely from too much worry, I'll bet. Just for maximum irony." Mograg's humor was short-lived. "The fact of the matter, love, is that we both put ourselves in harm's way on a daily basis. We go up against risks both seen and unseen, with little more than the leathers and metals we clad ourselves in, and we do not blink." She nodded. "It is, very much, the way of things for danger to be coming at us. Always." Zurrikan. "The only real difference could be that this is, instead of the random violence to which we are usually subject, this might be a targeted violence."

"But he spoke of a broader danger... he said, 'A shadow gathers in the land of elves... and it has turned its now open eye upon Mulgore'..." she recited.

Pragmatically, Mograg asked, "He didn't happen to mention which set of elves, did he? The dark ones are a touch harder to see in the shadows."

Winatsha shook her head. "I thought he spoke of the pale elves' lands... but, he could have just as easily meant the dark elves," she admitted.

"I do not discount that he may be right. But until we know what he is or is not right about, or until we have a plan to discover what that might be for ourselves, we are without aim." Winatsha nodded her agreement against Mograg's shoulder.

"He asked only that I stay alert," she said.

Mograg nodded. "Stay alert, then, but to him as well." Stay alert to many. You, too, old bull. She nodded once again. "If one has grave portents that they believe are significant, they are not shared in private. What could he have to gain by doing so?" Not panicking others unnecessarily. It's the same reason you do not worry her over the voice right now. Quite hypocritical tonight, aren't you?

"My instincts tell me he means well, but..." she trails off as an over-sized cat pads over to where they sit. There is uncertainty in her demeanor, and the smile she offers to their friend is weak at best.

"Hello, Slyvos," Mograg calls to him.

"Greetings, Slyvos," Winatsha adds.

"Seems I just walked in on something serious," the older bull and long-time friend of Mograg and Winatsha observed. Mograg shrugged a bit in response. "Eh?" he prodded.

"It's hard to know for sure. How are you, friend?" he asked in return.

"Mmmm," Slyvos intoned.

Mograg and Slyvos occasionally played a game where they communicated only in grunts. They were usually careful not to play it around others, however. "Mmm?" Mograg insisted.

"I'm not sure," said Slyvos as he laid down next to the couple.

"Tough day in the acid mines, Slyvos?" Mograg asked.

"Not really... just not thinking straight, eh?"

Mograg nodded, "Fair enough." He turned his attention now to another undead who had sat near the group on the adjacent shore of the pond. "Hello, X." He slipped back into Orcish.

X, who likely had a longer name but it was either never revealed to or remembered by Mograg, responded, "Evening, Mograg. How might be things?" Winatsha glanced from the undead to Mograg.

"They might be many ways, but, they are this way," Mograg grinned a bit. "And you?"

"Many ways as well. Currently the way has led me here once more." X chuckled.

Mograg nodded. "There are others, too, down at Bloodhoof. There was a small get-together there when we left it." Mograg had first seen X after a long absence the previous night at an informal clan gathering. "Many are about tonight." Mograg smiled politely.

"Oh? Well. Perhaps I will check that out later, but I am enjoying the lake tonight...."

Mograg nodded. "Good good." He indicated each in turn as he introduced his companions to the newcomer, "X, this is Winatsha and this is Slyvos."

X splashed the water with one gloved hand and watched the ripples. "A pleasure to meet both of you."

Winatsha nodded to the undead man. "Greetings... X?" She glanced from him to Mograg.

"Yes. That is what I am called," X confirmed.

To Mograg's side, Slyvos fell asleep. "Any fun thing go on after I leave last night?" Mograg asked of X with a grin.

The sleeping druid spoke, "Just some ruckus..."

X nodded to him, "Pretty much. I did not stay long, however."

Mograg gave a short laugh. Slyvos, still sleeping, added "... cherry pie, too." The group peered at Slyvos.

"Mmm?" Mograg asked of him, glancing over to notice that he'd fallen asleep.

"Didn't hear about that part," X offered.

Mograg shook his head. Slyvos continued, "Bour-bon... cherry." Mograg chuckled quietly.

X laughed, "Ah. I see."

"At least, the dreams he has are good dreams," Mograg observed.

"Must be nice," said X.

Mograg nodded, "I would think." He asked, "How you keep yourself busy, X? You say you are busy since last time I see you."

Slyvos woke. He shifted from his cat form to his Tauren form and smacked Mograg over the head with his staff. "Bad dog."

Winatsha blinked. "Slyvos!"

"Hey!" Mograg called up to him.

X only chuckled. The druid quickly shifted back and returned to sleep. "Odd one, isn't he?" asked X. Mograg grinned at X.

Winatsha grinned, nodding a bit. "He is..." She glanced at the sleeping druid, "... one of a kind."

Sylvos tossed and turned a bit, so his head was now on a downward slope from the rest of his body. "Watch it, Slyvos. Blood will drain away from your brain like that." Mograg let out a hearty chuckle and winked at Winatsha. Slyvos slipped into the water and quickly took on his water form.

Slyvos barked at Mograg. "MONSTER!" Winatsha shook her head, grinning. X stared on as the scene unfolded, leading him to laugh heartily.

"I am called worse," Mograg replies. Winatsha smiled lovingly at Mograg.

Slyvos, now soaked, climbed out of the water and hugged Winatsha. She grinned.

"One of a kind. Heh," X chuckled as a grinning Mograg received a similar wet hug from the druid. Winatsha nodded to him. Slyvos then peered at X, grinning wickedly. He shifted back to his cat form and cuddled up against X, causing no small amount of discomfort on the part of the undead man. "Ah... erm..." X stammered as the other two grinned.

"He follow you home, you keep him," said Mograg as X glanced at the cat next to him.

"Feed him cheese," Winatsha offered.

"He is house-broken," continued Mograg. After the right length of pause he uttered, "Kind of."

Winatsha nodded, "Mostly."

"I don't think he'd like my current home..." X rebutted.

Slyvos, never shy when he wanted food or drink, asked, "Say, there.... X... have some cherry grog? Bit of pie? Bagels?"

X looked over at the cat and shook his head. "Don't drink. And don't eat much, either."

"Grapes?" Slyvos tried again.

"Nope," said X.

"No?" Slyvos asked one last time. He then prowled over to the wolf Gunnar and sniffed him. "Bet this Hole ate it all. Ate it all up, eh? Bet you did," he spoke to the wolf.

X let out a short laugh as he and the rest watched Slyvos. Slyvos tapped Mograg on the head with his staff. "Ah, much more nice," Mograg said as Winatsha peered up at Slyvos.

"Stand up." Mograg obliged and followed Slyvos as he walked. "Stand just there, eh? Now... Come this way." Mograg shrugged and followed the old bull to the spot as Winatsha watched, her head tilted in curiosity. Her turn was next. Slyvos turned to her and pointed. "Stand up," he commanded. Winatsha regarded him with arched eyebrow, but obliged him as well.

Mograg, who had found himself nearer X, whispered, "One of his favorite games. 'Come this way.'"

"I see," said X.

Slyvos addressed the wolf. "C'mere." Without hesitation, the wolf trotted along beside the druid until he was asked to stay. Slyvos then beckoned to X, who similarly gave in to the wishes of the old bull. They were now around the pond at more or less even intervals. "Right here, eh?"

"All... right..." X said, resigned, boggling in confusion at Slyvos.

"Now..." the druid said and raised his hands to the sky. He muttered under his breath. Within a brief moment a storm cloud gathered over the small pond. Lighting flashed, hitting the water repeatedly, causing steam to rise from its surface. "Stew's up," the druid concluded. Mograg, used to the antics, grinned.

"Stew?" asked X.

"That's stew, right?" X looked down at the water. Other than a few steam pockets from where the lighting hit, the water was largely unchanged. Not a single fish, it had seemed, was harmed in the making of Slyvos' stew. "I read about it in this book, eh?" Winatsha walked out onto the surface of the water, to the astonishment of an onlooker or two, and knelt down to inspect it more closely. "Says get these ingredients. You mix 'em up." Mograg grinned more broadly as Slyvos continued, "Then you cooks it, eh? This is stew." Slyvos grinned wickedly.

"Well... I'm stew-pified? does that count?" X asked. Winatsha blinked at him.

"Is close, X, I think," offered Mograg, chuckling. Winatsha laughed softly, shaking her head a bit as Slyvos beckoned her over to him once more.

Chuckling, X said, "Heh. I like this one, I think."

Having joined Slyvos on the shore once more, Winatsha asked him, "Mmm?"

Slyvos asked of her, "How's you, eh?"

Winatsha smiled at Slyvos, "I've... had a day."

"Let's have a night," Slyvos said. "Day's gone," he continued. Winatsha grinned.

"It is just about time to call it a night," said Mograg. Winatsha nodded her assent.

"Gah! Always leave me!" exclaimed Slyvos. Mograg gave a short, high-pitched whistle. Gunnar trotted over to his side once more. Winatsha slipped her arm around Mograg's waist. "See them, eh?" Slyvos turned to X. "Always running off. Guess they don't like my stew."

"Heh, well, that is there prerogative, my friend," said X.

"Pfft. Some of us need sleep some times," Mograg replied.

Winatsha smiled gently, "We cannot keep up with you, Slyvos." She winked slyly at him.

"Or is it the other way around?" Slyvos countered. Mograg grinned.

"Where shall we camp tonight, love?" Winatsha asked of Mograg. Mograg replied quietly to Winatsha. She smiled lovingly up at him, nodding.

"Good night, both of you, mmm?" Mograg smiled at X and Slyvos before bowing down graciously.

Winatsha curtsied. "Winds guide you."

"They're doing it again, eh?" asked Slyvos, eliciting a chuckle from Mograg. Winatsha shook her head, grinning. X let out a short laugh. Slyvos raised his hand to the air again, summoning another storm cloud, this time over Mograg and Winatsha. While the lightning seemed to skew a bit further away from Winatsha, several bolts came perilously close to Mograg.

"That one almost got me!" Mograg exlaimed. "You're getting good."

"My aim must be off," said Slyvos, earning another round of chuckles.

"Good night!" Mograg tried, again.

"Stay safe," said X.

"Hold on a minute!" Slyvos called out.

"Mmm?" asked Mograg.

"Did I say day's gone?" asked Slyvos.

"I'll see you there, my love," Winatsha said in their native Taurahe before blowing a kiss to him. He nodded an assurance that he was soon to follow and returned the gesture.

"Look up in the sky," implored Slyvos. "I think it's coming back," he grinned wickedly.

"Might be a bit yet," Mograg replied.

"It was good to have met you, X," said Winatsha. She then waved to Slyvos.

With that, the couple teleported away. They would rendezvous soon at camp. She made it there a bit before him, and had already lit a fire by the time he arrived. They took up their customary spots, leaning back against a tree. Winatsha nudged her way under Mograg's arm, resting her head against his now bare chest, over his heart. He squeezed her gently. "Such strange people, all of them. In their own ways, but, strange."

Winatsha pondered this, her expression thoughtful. "Do you know, aside from you, the most 'normal' seeming people I've spoken to today were undead... Ruth, the potion seller, even X, strange as such a name is, seemed rather calm and normal by comparison."

Zurrikan. "Mmm. Believe me, there will be days that you will wish for undead as normal as they." Sooner, perhaps, than you think. Winatsha shook her head slightly against Mograg's chest. "It has been a long, long day. I am glad it's coming to a close."

Winatsha closed her eyes, listening to the rhythm of Mograg's heartbeat. She did this often when she sought comfort. "Mmm... I can't remember the last time I was this tired." She sighed.

"Mmm." Mograg settled in. His eyes closed heavily. Winatsha cuddled closer, and he snuggled with her. "Goodnight, my love."

"Sleep well, my brave hunter." She moved to get a bit closer, her arms holding him tight as she drifted off to sleep.

He does not know you camp here. Sleep, bull. Tomorrow is another day.

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