Here follows the second trial of Lazarus S. Graysong.
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An imp wanders around the garrison with a messenger satchel slung over its diminutive shoulders.
Eventually should it find the warlock known as Gretchna it would matter of factly hand her a letter and stand with its hands clasped behind its back.
The letter would read,
"Dear Gretchna,
I am Lazarus Graysong and I have been tasked to speak with you for my second trial.
Should you have a convenient time to speak to me kindly relay it in a message to Lazrot, my imp.
-Lazarus S. Graysong"
The imp stands idly by observing the other warlock with an utterly bored expression.
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The aged crone, splattered (like a poorly executed canvas of modern art) with newly bought beauty products from Silvermoon, coyly entreated the little imp in her boudior. Well, she called it a boudior; most soldiers of the Horde called it the line to the latrines. In any case, the portly Gretch'na squatted in the dust of Warspear's roadside in a proper pout.
"A Supplicant sends his measily dae'mon to call upon old dearie me? Why the nerve!" The ancient orcess snarled and bent her arthritic claws as if to scoop the innards from the very air. A felflame began its dance in her clutch. "Why must Mommy Gretch'na be fed the dregs! She deserves better. More! Oh the- wait."
Her palm snapped flat and the flame wisped away. A long, hooked fingernail rose to the warlock's chin caked with what could only be excrement. She scratched a bulbous wart and arched a clumsily penciled eyebrow.
"Lazarus GRAYsong... you should have said such!" Gretch'na huffed an amicable chiding at the imp, though the name was clearly written upon paper. Like an angry pulse of heat lightning upon the sands of Silithus, the rage had passed and settled into the usual lazy drifts of fetid dunes.
"It would shame Mommy Gretch'na if she had missed the whispers. Master Graysong is said to be SUCH a gracious man. And rich? Yes, old dearie should think so, yes yes yes!" Tugging upon Lazrot's ear, the crone giggled along in her own rambling monologue. "And handsome? No, no, no! You mustn't spoil my surprise. My gift-wrapped crumpet of a man! Run on now, little thing. Tell you master that Mommy Gretch'na will teach him a most wonderful lesson!"
Graysong's Second Trial - Gretchna
Re: Graysong's Second Trial - Gretchna
Moments later Lazrot, Lazarus' imp, puffed into existence near the Forsaken man.
The little imp's expression was one of bored indifference, "The... "warlock", the imp even made air quotes, desires you to speak with her. She is by the latrine. She is also wearing fecal matter."
The imp blinked and walked away.
Lazarus watched his imp walk away. He wasn't sure where Lazrot picked up his recent air of superiority but it was amusing at the very least.
"At the latrines... covered in fecal matter?" Lazarus was reminded of Inquisitor Ruuki's expression when she assigned him Gretchna. "Well who am I to keep a lady waiting?"
Lazarus found his way to the latrines.
The little imp's expression was one of bored indifference, "The... "warlock", the imp even made air quotes, desires you to speak with her. She is by the latrine. She is also wearing fecal matter."
The imp blinked and walked away.
Lazarus watched his imp walk away. He wasn't sure where Lazrot picked up his recent air of superiority but it was amusing at the very least.
"At the latrines... covered in fecal matter?" Lazarus was reminded of Inquisitor Ruuki's expression when she assigned him Gretchna. "Well who am I to keep a lady waiting?"
Lazarus found his way to the latrines.
Re: Graysong's Second Trial - Gretchna
The crone was waiting for the felmancer by the roadside. Doing her best to appear the maiden, she sat wiltingly upon a boulder, prodigious legs crossed as best as she was able, and allowing her robe to bare a stretched and fading tattoo upon her calve that hinted at the memory of a dae'monic rune.
Sighting the be-hatted form of the approaching Supplicant, Gretch'na waved a limp-wristed hand at Lazarus and sulked back into her cowl. A relentless Draenic sun beat down upon the rough fabric and evoked the deep-set aromas of her clothing: cloves, rose hips, and a rancid mustiness that could raise the hackles of even a felhound, like a starved animal trapped too long indoors - or an invalid's bedchamber.
"Yooou whoooo! Master Graysong! Oh me oh my, Mommy Gretch'na has been waiting ever so long for your handsomeness. Yes, yes, yes, please do come sit with her." She presented her most winning, gap-toothed grin, which sent a tectonic shift of wrinkles from her buried cheekbones to a porcine brow..
"The Inquisitors, and that charming little friend of yours, did mention you might saunter my way. What is it that Mommy can teach you?"
Sighting the be-hatted form of the approaching Supplicant, Gretch'na waved a limp-wristed hand at Lazarus and sulked back into her cowl. A relentless Draenic sun beat down upon the rough fabric and evoked the deep-set aromas of her clothing: cloves, rose hips, and a rancid mustiness that could raise the hackles of even a felhound, like a starved animal trapped too long indoors - or an invalid's bedchamber.
"Yooou whoooo! Master Graysong! Oh me oh my, Mommy Gretch'na has been waiting ever so long for your handsomeness. Yes, yes, yes, please do come sit with her." She presented her most winning, gap-toothed grin, which sent a tectonic shift of wrinkles from her buried cheekbones to a porcine brow..
"The Inquisitors, and that charming little friend of yours, did mention you might saunter my way. What is it that Mommy can teach you?"
Re: Graysong's Second Trial - Gretchna
As Lazarus approached the meeting spot (latrines) he was struck with the image of the orcess. He wasn't immediately sure if he was hallucinating as the figure before him seemed utterly out of place in the Garrison. The thought crossed his mind that he would perhaps find her out of place in any location for that matter.
A brief gust of wind caused his reddish-purple robes to billow about him.
"Yooou whooo! Master Graysong!" Lazarus tilted his head causing his cowl to bend slightly with the gust. The very words that emanated from the woman's mouth irritated him. As she continued her utterances he surveyed her and continued his approach until he was within five feet of her.
The orc was an assault on the senses. He was absolutely positive of the first three and was relatively certain of the final two. He wasn't about to touch or taste her though. How is that he, as a forsaken, took better care of his body and gave off no noticeable odor and this orc... didn't?
Ignoring the woman's overt flirtations the man offered a polite bow.
"Good day Ms. Gretchna. As you are aware I am Mr. Graysong. I have been sent by Inquisitor Ruuki to learn your views on the mandate and how they might apply to myself."
Making no motion to move Lazarus clasped his hands behind his back and watched the orc. His stance was precisely polite.
A brief gust of wind caused his reddish-purple robes to billow about him.
"Yooou whooo! Master Graysong!" Lazarus tilted his head causing his cowl to bend slightly with the gust. The very words that emanated from the woman's mouth irritated him. As she continued her utterances he surveyed her and continued his approach until he was within five feet of her.
The orc was an assault on the senses. He was absolutely positive of the first three and was relatively certain of the final two. He wasn't about to touch or taste her though. How is that he, as a forsaken, took better care of his body and gave off no noticeable odor and this orc... didn't?
Ignoring the woman's overt flirtations the man offered a polite bow.
"Good day Ms. Gretchna. As you are aware I am Mr. Graysong. I have been sent by Inquisitor Ruuki to learn your views on the mandate and how they might apply to myself."
Making no motion to move Lazarus clasped his hands behind his back and watched the orc. His stance was precisely polite.
Re: Graysong's Second Trial - Gretchna
Gretch'na squealed with high-pitched delight at Lazarus's task. Somewhere, deep within the Razorfen Kraul, a quillboar became inexplicably aroused.
"My views? On the Mandate? Oh spirits bless your tender, succulent little heart, Master Graysong!" The woman was working herself up into a lather, the sweat spreading over her flesh like a sheen of rancid oil slicking a bog. "No one ever comes to poor Mommy Gretch'na to hear tales any longer. They mustn't have the time... yes, yes, yes, that must be the <some expletive in Eredun> reason!"
The crone slipped down from the boulder with surprising grace and flounced forward towards Graysong. The lightness of her step juxtaposed eerily her girth, as if that titanic mass of corpulence were somehow supported by unseen spirits. She stopped short, a few feet from the fellow felmancer, preening.
"Let Mommy recite for you the Mandate," the orcess intoned. A native of this alternate Draenor, she began signaling with her fingers in signs familiar only to those initiated with the Shadowmoon Clan. Like a ship caught in the summer doldrums of the Devouring Sea, the wind left her sails and her waist deflated and settled. Though still rotund, Gretch'na no longer threatened to envelop the Supplicant. Instead, from the folds of her robes and from behind the pebbles at her feet, little spirits emerged in wisping apparition. They ghosted round her calves and slowly assembled in a line behind her, diminutive translucent shades in the rough forms of orcish children, numbering nearly a dozen.
Stepping to the side, the crone barked shrilly: "Mika!" The tallest of the spirits drifted forward and faced the dour ensemble. Gretch'na made some impatient gestures with her hand until the chorus began, then settled into the role of maestro. Beginning with Mika, a haunting and disjointed recital of "Peace Through Annihilation" was pulled syllable by syllable from the spirits in the distant echoes of children's voices. Once the chant was complete, Gretch'na smoothed her palms downwards as a coda and nodded with a motherly smile.
"Now run along, dearies. Mommy is busy." The spirits broke rank and meandered the roadside, dejectedly inspecting rocks while others seemed to simply stare at nothing in particular. Gretch'na turned to Graysong with her smile still painted on her face.
"I do so love it when they are orderly and silent, don't you, dearie? Always whining, almost begging, always asking for this bread or that toy. Why, it's enough to drive a woman mad! Just ... PEACE. Please! A moment to think, a moment to gather her wits."
Though still grinning, Gretch'na fists were balled into tight masses. "Peace was what I found soooooo enticing about the Mandate, and The Grim. The wars and the pinkskins that bring them. The noise and the clattering of metal and the cannons. It's too much for Mommy Gretch'na! I want them to shut up! Shut their Common mouths and be silent! Just SHUT UP AND LET MOMMY THINK!!!"
After letting out that final shriek, the woman stopped her tirade and dropped her fists, becoming aware of her unseemly self and disarrayed hair. She blinked and wiped away a streak of make-up that had run into an eye, then tucked back a loose, greying lock. Gathering her nerve she focused back upon her smile and Greysong.
"You of course understand, dear Master Graysong... and why, if we just wipe them all away, we can have our peace." Gretch'na glanced over at the wandering spirits. "Raising a family was soooooo tiring. Mommy just got fed up." She spoke with calm now, matter-of-factly. "But now that they are all silenced, she has so much more time. For all sorts of thoughts... and handsome men like yourself."
The crone blushed a sickly shade of mauve.
"My views? On the Mandate? Oh spirits bless your tender, succulent little heart, Master Graysong!" The woman was working herself up into a lather, the sweat spreading over her flesh like a sheen of rancid oil slicking a bog. "No one ever comes to poor Mommy Gretch'na to hear tales any longer. They mustn't have the time... yes, yes, yes, that must be the <some expletive in Eredun> reason!"
The crone slipped down from the boulder with surprising grace and flounced forward towards Graysong. The lightness of her step juxtaposed eerily her girth, as if that titanic mass of corpulence were somehow supported by unseen spirits. She stopped short, a few feet from the fellow felmancer, preening.
"Let Mommy recite for you the Mandate," the orcess intoned. A native of this alternate Draenor, she began signaling with her fingers in signs familiar only to those initiated with the Shadowmoon Clan. Like a ship caught in the summer doldrums of the Devouring Sea, the wind left her sails and her waist deflated and settled. Though still rotund, Gretch'na no longer threatened to envelop the Supplicant. Instead, from the folds of her robes and from behind the pebbles at her feet, little spirits emerged in wisping apparition. They ghosted round her calves and slowly assembled in a line behind her, diminutive translucent shades in the rough forms of orcish children, numbering nearly a dozen.
Stepping to the side, the crone barked shrilly: "Mika!" The tallest of the spirits drifted forward and faced the dour ensemble. Gretch'na made some impatient gestures with her hand until the chorus began, then settled into the role of maestro. Beginning with Mika, a haunting and disjointed recital of "Peace Through Annihilation" was pulled syllable by syllable from the spirits in the distant echoes of children's voices. Once the chant was complete, Gretch'na smoothed her palms downwards as a coda and nodded with a motherly smile.
"Now run along, dearies. Mommy is busy." The spirits broke rank and meandered the roadside, dejectedly inspecting rocks while others seemed to simply stare at nothing in particular. Gretch'na turned to Graysong with her smile still painted on her face.
"I do so love it when they are orderly and silent, don't you, dearie? Always whining, almost begging, always asking for this bread or that toy. Why, it's enough to drive a woman mad! Just ... PEACE. Please! A moment to think, a moment to gather her wits."
Though still grinning, Gretch'na fists were balled into tight masses. "Peace was what I found soooooo enticing about the Mandate, and The Grim. The wars and the pinkskins that bring them. The noise and the clattering of metal and the cannons. It's too much for Mommy Gretch'na! I want them to shut up! Shut their Common mouths and be silent! Just SHUT UP AND LET MOMMY THINK!!!"
After letting out that final shriek, the woman stopped her tirade and dropped her fists, becoming aware of her unseemly self and disarrayed hair. She blinked and wiped away a streak of make-up that had run into an eye, then tucked back a loose, greying lock. Gathering her nerve she focused back upon her smile and Greysong.
"You of course understand, dear Master Graysong... and why, if we just wipe them all away, we can have our peace." Gretch'na glanced over at the wandering spirits. "Raising a family was soooooo tiring. Mommy just got fed up." She spoke with calm now, matter-of-factly. "But now that they are all silenced, she has so much more time. For all sorts of thoughts... and handsome men like yourself."
The crone blushed a sickly shade of mauve.
Re: Graysong's Second Trial - Gretchna
Lazarus watched the peculiar orc with mild interest. As the spirits were released from the folds of her robes he furrowed his brow in puzzlement. Deciding it in his best interest to not ask too many questions he chose to not inquire and merely take mental notes.
Lazarus wasn't sure why but something about the woman and the children unsettled him. As though perhaps she was the reason they were deceased and yet still she chose to preside over them. It was disturbing.
"So to you the mandate means precisely how it sounds. Peace through annihilation."
Lazarus looks at the spirits and back at the woman. His unease rising.
"I see. I am sure I do not know what you mean Ms. Gretchna about time for thoughts. The enemies still rear at the gates and peace is not yet within grasp."
Lazarus blinks at the woman.
"Have you anything else to add about the mandate and the Grim's mission or shall I leave you to attend to your..." The man gestures at the spirits, "Family?"
"Or rather I was also told you may have questions for myself."
Lazarus calmly clasps his hands again.
Lazarus wasn't sure why but something about the woman and the children unsettled him. As though perhaps she was the reason they were deceased and yet still she chose to preside over them. It was disturbing.
"So to you the mandate means precisely how it sounds. Peace through annihilation."
Lazarus looks at the spirits and back at the woman. His unease rising.
"I see. I am sure I do not know what you mean Ms. Gretchna about time for thoughts. The enemies still rear at the gates and peace is not yet within grasp."
Lazarus blinks at the woman.
"Have you anything else to add about the mandate and the Grim's mission or shall I leave you to attend to your..." The man gestures at the spirits, "Family?"
"Or rather I was also told you may have questions for myself."
Lazarus calmly clasps his hands again.
Re: Graysong's Second Trial - Gretchna
(This is so entertaining to read!)
Re: Graysong's Second Trial - Gretchna
Gretch'na now scrutinized the warlock, her face wrinkling and cracking in the heat of summer's afternoon sun. Like a shrewd merchant inspecting a gelding, she almost reached for his mouth to inspect the gums and teeth. She stopped herself, of course, her hand instead cupping her third chin.
"I think I made myself very clear, Master Graysong. The Burning Legion are as petulant as children can come, whining and begging for a second supper as they devour a thousand worlds. Have you ever attempted to reason with a screaming child? No, of course not! Mommy sets them in chains and sends them back to the Nether. That is how we slice for ourselves a sliver of Peace."
She ended her exposition in a bout of heavy breathing, having exhausted frail capacity of her lungs. Wiping the sweat away from her dripping face, she waved at the felmancer while bracing herself against one knee in a bow.
"I never ... took you ... for a family man ... Master Graysong."
"I think I made myself very clear, Master Graysong. The Burning Legion are as petulant as children can come, whining and begging for a second supper as they devour a thousand worlds. Have you ever attempted to reason with a screaming child? No, of course not! Mommy sets them in chains and sends them back to the Nether. That is how we slice for ourselves a sliver of Peace."
She ended her exposition in a bout of heavy breathing, having exhausted frail capacity of her lungs. Wiping the sweat away from her dripping face, she waved at the felmancer while bracing herself against one knee in a bow.
"I never ... took you ... for a family man ... Master Graysong."
Re: Graysong's Second Trial - Gretchna
The forsaken man allowed the woman to finish her words.
He wasn't fully sure he was following her train of thought properly but it would be impolite to interrupt.
Behind his cowl he was frowning. The woman's ravings were less than helpful. It was obvious she was not in the Grim for her intellect. The other option was strength. When dealing with a person of strength without intellect the best course of action is always caution.
"A petulant child can be disciplined and taught. The Legion is not a race but an amalgamation. The Legion engulfs races and worlds forcing them into service. They prune the weak and retain the strong. Not all races serve the Legion willingly.
Some within the Legion are not so far gone as to be incapable of reason."
Lazarus grows silent for a moment before looking at the orc.
"I had a family once. As did you. I did not lose my family because of the Alliance. It was a crueler fate that took them. But I hear what you say and I acknowledge that it is now something else that threatens the family I now have."
"Peace through annihilation Ms. Gretchna. May others never know the pain of losing a family."
With that the forsaken man offered a polite bow and turned to leave.
He wasn't fully sure he was following her train of thought properly but it would be impolite to interrupt.
Behind his cowl he was frowning. The woman's ravings were less than helpful. It was obvious she was not in the Grim for her intellect. The other option was strength. When dealing with a person of strength without intellect the best course of action is always caution.
"A petulant child can be disciplined and taught. The Legion is not a race but an amalgamation. The Legion engulfs races and worlds forcing them into service. They prune the weak and retain the strong. Not all races serve the Legion willingly.
Some within the Legion are not so far gone as to be incapable of reason."
Lazarus grows silent for a moment before looking at the orc.
"I had a family once. As did you. I did not lose my family because of the Alliance. It was a crueler fate that took them. But I hear what you say and I acknowledge that it is now something else that threatens the family I now have."
"Peace through annihilation Ms. Gretchna. May others never know the pain of losing a family."
With that the forsaken man offered a polite bow and turned to leave.