Gazam & Mul'Zeb, the Warlock and the Priest

Gazam sits low near the fire, smoke drifting into his eyes. His funds diminished, he carefully nibbles on his last dried, Bloated Smallish. Without any luck tracking down the Alliance wizard, by tomorrow he would have to venture into the countryside and try his luck at finding something valuable enough to sell. Either that or starve. Or learn to fish. He would need funds to buy a line and hook, and someone to show him how.

He nods. Definitely need to learn to fish. Tomorrow. After he bonks some pirates or striders to get enough loot to sell.

Gazam thinks about the old gob fisherman he saw on the dock. Lean, not very well fed, even for a goblin. Nope, not a long term plan, just long enough to learn more about the mage.

Mul'Zeb weaves his way around the tables and to the barkeep. "I'll be havin' a plate o' the day's special." He places a few coins on the counter and waits as the orc goes to cut some meat. He takes a look around the tavern, noting the various groups and the few empty tables. He briefly considers joining each, then quickly shakes the thought from his head. "How I be knowin' dat dis orc even be friendly?" he mutters to himself. The barkeep returns with a plate and the smell makes his stomach growl. "Maybe I should eat first, den worry 'bout who to find. No sense aggravatin' me empty belly." He turns with his plate toward one of the empty tables he passed close to the fire.

It's then that he notices a loan orc near there, seemingly lost in thought, possibly meditating? Mul'Zeb smiles. A stranger joining a group in mid conversation is not usually a bright idea, but what's the harm in striking up a conversation with another loner? He sits at an empty table close to the orc. He calls to him "Hey mon! Ya got time to sit wit a lone traveler? Maybe ya can help me wit some information I be lookin' for." He places his plate on the table and gives a slight wave as he sits down.

"Okidoki." Gazam stands up, chucks the bones of his fish in the fire, and joins the troll. He flexes and stretches his muscles, stiff from sitting uncomfortably.

His clothes are rough, sailor simple, mismatched cloth, no armor. A handaxe is tucked in his belt, and he shuffles a pack close beside him. In his eyes, there shines a defiant gleam that marks him as no simple peon, regardless of his manner.

"I am Gazam of the Deadwolf clan. I have been here for a week or so, looking for information on an Alliance mage that attacked my ship, the Fellhammer. When I drove her off, she sacked my clan farm. Girl human, purple robes. You seen her?"

Mul'Zeb nods in acknowledgement. "Gazam of da Deadwolf clan. I be Mul'Zeb of da Darkspears. I've not been in Ratchet a day, and ain't seen no Alliance mage. As I not be havin' a lead, perhaps we be helpin' each other. I been sent by me elders to help da Horde. I be searchin' for an orc, although details elude me at dis time. But I be knowin' when I find 'im. Whadya say? Two heads be better 'an one, eh? I help find dis mage and you help me find da orc?" With this, he helps himself to a piece of meat and pushes the plate between them toward Gazam as an offer of companionship.

He is dressed in plain brown and green robes of simple, not decorative, design. His purple hair is pulled back in a tight, straight braid. Two slightly curved tusks jut from his lower jaw, coming out at slight angles, reminding you of an insects mandibles, though not as piercing. A carved bone hangs from his neck on a leather thong, which he reaches up and brushes absentmindedly with his fingertips, waiting to hear the orc's response.

Gazam looks pointedly at Mul'zeb, then down at himself, then back at Mul'zeb. He cautiously takes a bite of the shared food. "There are many orcs, Mul'zeb of the Darkspears. Your people and mine have powerful alliance, one earned by blood if not by trust." He ponders the fire for a moment. "Tell me of your orc, and Gazam will help if can. Mage has probably fled to Stormwind. Easier to find orc first."

"Aye, dat may be true. I tell ya what I be knowin'." With this, Mul'Zeb holds up a hand and raises a finger, "Dis orc be in Ratchet." He extends his thumb, "Dis orc be lost, wandering unknowing, without light to guide 'im. Unable to see past da shadow." His third and final finger extends, "Dis orc be wantin' blood. Whose blood I not be knowin', nor da reason. But it be consumin' 'im. I be tasked with tempering da shadows over dis orc's heart." He lowers his hand down to the table and takes another piece of meat. While chewing, he adds, "It ain't much to go on, but it be enough. We be gettin' a start and da spirits be guidin' us da rest of da way."

Gazam thinks long and hard, introspectively cataloging all of the orcs that he knows, and their personal foibles. "I not know such an orc." He scratches his chin hairs. "All orcs be wanting blood. But for good reasons. Don't know about these shadows, though, harder to see, maybe."

He looks at his new companion, curious and a little awestruck by his seeming wisdom. "How we start?

Mul'Zeb scratches his head, contemplating. "Hmmm... Indeed, how we be startin'?" Absentmindedly bringing his hand down to stroke the totem at his neck, he says, "Well, Gazam, how well ya be knowin' Ratchet? Any idea where orcs be likin' ta mingle?" He glances around, taking another look at the other patrons of the tavern. "He don't seem to be in dis place. Ya be knowin' of any... not so open areas where da shadows be lurkin'? Ya said ya had a ship. Surely a strong sailor such as yaself knows of some... less dan reputable places to get information...?"

"Wait. How do you know I'm not the shadowy orc?" Gazam stands up. His tusks jut from a clenched jaw. His right hand fingers his handaxe while his left hand glows darkly with magic and the piece of meat he is holding onto freezes.

"What do you want with me?" He snarls.

Standing up, Mul'Zeb exclaims, "Hey! Hey dere, mon! What I want wit ya? What ya be meanin'?" His hand reaching down to the handaxe at his hip in similar fashion. He stares at the suddenly angry orc, trying to discern what caused the sudden change in attitude.

Suddenly, the realization hits him and his eyes narrow, a smile creeping to his lips. "No, mon. Surely da spirits not be making it dis easy!" He quickly says a mental prayer of gratitude to the spirits, as his eyes dart from the orc's angry visage to his glowing hand. "Ah... so dere do be shadow in ya. Yes... but who be da lion ya be huntin'? Dis human mage, perhaps?" He looks at the orc questioningly, hoping to gather some more information and possibly delay any incoming attacks.

Hearing the mage mentioned, Gazam drops the partially frozen food to the floor with a wet thunk. "That mage. She probably fled to her hole in Stormwind. I need to gather a warband and infiltrate the city's defences. I'll rain fire down on their poor and crumble the towers of the rich. Then, when she has no where left to hide, I'll take the only thing she has left." He smiles cruelly. "Her life."

He yells "FOR THE HORDE!"

He looks down at the food he dropped and picks it up. He sits again and begins gnawing on it.

Mul'Zeb puts both hands up in a peaceful gesture, not wanting to cause a fight or get kicked out of the tavern. "Aye, for da Horde!" He sits back down in his chair, facing Gazam, still cautious in case the orc's anger hasn't been entirely averted. "Dat's quite a plan ya be havin'. How ya be tinkin' of gettin' dis warband? I hear Stormwind is a mighty city. It be takin' more dan just strength to be gettin' through deir walls." He sits back in the chair, relaxing slightly. "Can ya be sure she be in Stormwind already? How long ya be searchin' for her?"

Gazam doesn't answer directly, other than to say "Working on it." He watches the troll suspiciously, but also with curiosity. He speaks of spirits, but Gazam knows first hand that some 'spirits' play by their own Fel rules. It's this troll a pawn in some larger game? Or is he mighty enough to command their obedience. If the later, he will make a fine ally and a cornerstone of the warband. Time will tell.

"You know way to Stormwind? Best way you find if she is there is you check. Big city, many streets. Easiest to check rubble."

Mul'Zeb stares at Gazam for a while, silently contemplating. Finally, after several minutes, he leans in and says in a quiet voice, "Heh, ya be workin' on it, eh? Dat be a lot of work for one orc. As I be sayin' earlier, perhaps we be helpin' each other. Two not be makin' a warband, but dey be survivin' better dan da one. If ya do be da orc in shadow I be searchin' for, perhaps I be of more help to ya dan ya tink." He looks directly at the orc, gives a slight smile and nods. "Now, how we be gettin' to Stormwind? It not be so close, me friend."

"We go to Ogrimmar, then take a goblin zeppelin to Tirisfall Glade near Undercity." Gazam nods. "Ready to go?"

Gazam seems eager, driven. His plan appears is ill conceived. It is a long walk through dangerous territory to get to the human lands from Lordaeron, longer than the walk north from Stranglethorn Vale. But the fires of orcish vengeance light his eyes.

"In Undercity, we may find allies."

Mul'Zeb smiles as he thinks to himself, "Yes, I believe I be findin' me orc. Now da best ting to do be to follow dis orc. Da voodoo be strong in dis one." He nods and rises from his seat. "Aye, let's be goin'. I be hearin' about Undercity, you been there? Da dead walk da streets dere, eh? Heh heh... Bwonsamdi be havin' a field day!" He chuckles lightly.

A brief conversion later, Mul'Zeb learns that Gazam knows nothing about Undercity, and doesn't pretend to. He simply shrugs at questions. "I have never been on a zeppelin," he explains. "I was a sailor, on a coastal defence ship..." He relates his story to his new friend as they make their way to the orcish city.

Mul'Zeb listens intently to Gazam's story, searching for a way to help his new ally. He makes small comments for encouragement, such as "We be findin' ya mage, mon." and "Aye, the Alliance be payin'." He doesn't want to stop Gazam from getting his revenge, only from being consumed by it, and possibly going too far. Still, there's a long way to go before he'll need to deal with that particular issue. To clear his mind a bit, once Gazam is done with his tale and there has been a lull in the conversation, Mul'Zeb starts on a (in his mind) simple lecture about the Loa and spirits. Unfortunately, he gets focused on his speech and gives little time for questions and comments and doesn't seem to notice whether his companion is particularly interested in the topic or not.