The Tale of Muglazum

That was it? Muglazum thought to himself, he always had figured he would see his captain die slaying hundreds of humans while drawing his last breath, but to be killed so simply and so quickly stunned Muglazum. The lava was still flowing through the crawlspace, rapidly increasing in volume. Muglazum turned and began to run though the tunnel to try and catch up to his fellow orcs.
The tunnels soon became pitch black. Following the wall with his left hand, and letting the mace drag on the ground in front of him so he would know if the ground suddenly gave way, Muglazum slowly traveled along. Muglazum could feel the air around him begin to chill. A weak wind was flowing through the darkness producing a whistling noise. Muglazum’s stomach growled, a reminder of his unwise habit of not eating before battles. He claimed that all he needed was a full night’s sleep and he would fight twice a good as anyone who had just eaten some raw meat.
A dim light was coming from up ahead and faint sounds were heard. Increasing his pace Muglazum was anxious to see what the commotion was. The tunnel came to an opening much like the opening that led into the room of the lava pool cavern. He tripped over something and looked down. The grim face of the orc with the rectangular shield stared back up at Muglazum. Eyes wide open, mouth agape in an eternal yell, the orc had been shot with seven arrows. Muglazum looked up and saw the company of warriors fighting off many small troggs. These half-orcs half-trolls were the disgusting production of creature-mixing experiments that had long ago been outlawed by the Royal Apothecary Society of the Undercity. The troggs were short, being almost three feet tall and they were lightly armed and armored, but they possessed the strength of orcs and the will of the trolls, making them a formidable enemy.
Looking back down at the fallen orc, Muglazum shut the eyes and the jaw of his fallen comrade. “Peace friend.” Muglazum recited the long used parting adage used by the orcs and stood back up. With the Black Malice gripped tightly in both hands Muglazum charged into the fray.
The trogg that Muglazum first picked out was holding a spear in its slimy gray hand; Black Malice destroyed it’s slimy gray face. Another trogg ran at Muglazum. Slamming his mace into the side of the advancing creature sent it crashing to the rock floor. Three more troggs fell before Muglazum arrived in the center of the battle. One trogg has climbed on the back of another orc and was clawing at the warriors face. Running up behind the duo, Muglazum pulled the small creature off and threw it onto the ground, then used Black Malice to embed the troggs bowels into the cave floor.
The troggs numbers began to diminish and soon there were no more living troggs insight. Tired and weary the remaining orcs blankly looked around. Three of their own had fallen. Muglazum walked over to a nearby corpse of a trogg and looked at it. The creature must have been the leader of this trogg pack because Muglazum found a whisper shard in its possession. A whisper shard is used to immediately contact any being in the world in an instant. Thinking of whom you wanted to contact and cracking the shard, you would then whisper your message into the broken stone and then drop it and let it shatter. The being that was to receive the message would hear what you whispered to them just as if you had been standing right next to them. Muglazum pocketed the stone, even though he already had one, but he figured he might regret leaving it behind.
Muglazum heard a commotion and he turned to see a few orcs pointing to the entrance to the cave where lava from where the Elemental’s cavern was starting to come into the cavern they were presently in.
“It’s forcing us to move on.” An orc said nearby Muglazum. “We can’t stay behind or we will be burned.”
“Agreed, come on brothers, we must not fail our fallen now.” Hollered another orc as he slid his helmet back onto his head. The same orc picked up his large sword and began to walk through the cave, once again heading into the unknown.
“But what if there are more troggs up ahead?” An orc questioned the back of the quickly disappearing orc with the great sword.
“Then we shall fight them again.” Was the echoed response. A few more orcs joined the one walking away, more followed them, and soon all that remained of the orc force was walking away from the site of the fight.
Traveling for a longer distance the orcs met no resistance. The temperature of the cave had ceased to be scorching and was almost a tolerable level now. Looking down at his chest armor, Muglazum spit on it and tried wiping the brown scorch mark off. It was not affected. “Murloc Babies.” Muglazum swore to himself.
“So I see you survived my pet’s wrath.” Every orc in the group froze, not knowing where the scratchy voice came from. Bows were drawn and aimed in a dozen directions. Instinctively the orcs formed a circle that faced all directions. “These caves are ours, leave them!”
The orc with the big sword shouted, “Stop hiding and show yourself weakling!” A laugh rang through the cavern, and the shadows surrounding the orcs started glowing with red eyes.
“Troggs!” an orc said with rage. Muglazum blinked and the wave crashed upon the orcs. Muglazum who was slightly in the middle of the circle watched as the troggs bashed themselves against the shields and axes of those orcs in the outer circle. A trogg leaped over the defensive circle and Muglazum twisted and swung the Black Malice at it, missing by inches the trogg drew his dagger and leaped at Muglazum. For once in his life Muglazum regretted wearing leather shoulder pads as the dagger dug itself into his shoulder. Disoriented by the searing pain Muglazum missed a second time with his mighty club, but the Black Malice did not miss again. A swift uppercut hit the trogg in the bottom jaw, effectively breaking the troggs neck and sending it’s skull flipping back against the trogg’s back. The corpse crumpled infront of Muglazum. Muglazum pulled the small blade out of his shoulder, looking at it’s bloody blade and his reflection in it built up a great storm of rage within Muglazum. All the angers, all the hate, all the grievances of the past few hours were turned into a warriors rage in that moment. Looking up, looking for the nearest trogg Muglazum ran up to it and killed it, two troggs saw Muglazum and dashed at him. Running at the pair Muglazum swung his mace wide and took them both down. With each kill Muglazum became that much more powerful. Trogs fell all around him. Ocs fell all around him. Muglazum became wrapped up in himself, concentrating on one trogg at a time; unaware that every single one of his comrades was dead, Muglazum continued to fight.
The troggs finally stopped attacking Muglazum and formed a ring around him. Muglazum finally realized what had happened, he was the last one left.
“Look, look at this single warrior. He has lasted the longest.” The voice mockingly rang out. Without moving his head Muglazum glanced upwards. Sitting in a rock throne, the being with the purple robes sat in comfort and had watched the entire battle take place. The hood that it wore shadowed the figure’s face. “It is a shame that you could not see the true meaning of the Horde. A powerful ally you would be, not that we need anymore.” The figure gestured to the troggs that had circled Muglazum; the troggs snarled and barked, drool seeping from their jaws and bared fangs. The cloaked figure began to laugh as he stood up staff in one hand motioning with the other. ”Kill him.” he said softly, flinging his empty hand loosely in Muglazum’s direction as he walked back into an unseen room.
The noose tightened around Muglazum. Knowing that it would be suicidal to stand and fight these troggs Muglazum pulled out the whisper shard that he picked up off of the trogg. The troggs had slowly broken the circle and formed a semi-circle that pushed Muglazum into a corner. Thinking, cracking, whispering, smashing, the process was over. Muglazum waited a few moments, nothing happened. Pulling out the second shard, Muglazum thought of someone else, repeating the process Muglazum found himself with his back to the wall. The troggs stopped their advancement, and took one last grin before they assaulted their prey. Muglazum swung as hard as he could as wide as his arms would reach. The Black Malice decapitated the nearest trogg, the few to it’s right were knocked off of their feet. The rage was back and no longer did Muglazum have to run around and find another trogg, they kept coming to him. Swinging widely, and precisely, Muglazum made his last stand. Although he was not ready for death, Muglazum had accepted the fact that his time of passing had come. Looking at the troggs in front of him Muglazum inhaled, raised Black Malice high, and swung down upon the trogg mass. As if his rage had been physically formed into a material power, a bolt of darkness shot out of the end of the mace, disintegrating a handful of troggs. His head suddenly, seemingly without his permission turned to face the wall. Low on blood, and tired from fighting for his life, Muglazum could no longer stand and crumpled to the floor.
Bewildered the troggs stopped and gazed at the small gap between themselves and the orc warrior. They looked at this one creature that had killed many of their own with a new respect. A fighter to the last, the troggs began to pity this creature. The troggs looked on as the being collapsed, tried to get up, and then fell over again, weak and vulnerable. The troggs stomachs growled and they leaped at the helpless individual.

* * *

Thousands of miles across the sea, hundreds of feet below the earth’s surface, a mage was walking to the Auction House of The Undercity. Eager to sell a cloak he just enchanted, Fresleven quickly walked through the crowded upper balcony and down through the bank district towards the Auction House.
“Fresleven, it’s Muglazum.”
Muglazum? Fresleven thought, he had not seen his old friend in months. Turning to great him, Fresleven discovered that there was no one behind him. Figuring he must have just heard things Fresleven continued on.
“Help me, I am deep below Orgrimmar, in the Caverns. There are many troggs, I will soon be killed.”
Fresleven stopped moving. He heard the last part clearly. Muglazum was calling for help. Turning around Fresleven tossed the cloak to a bum selling pet cockroaches. “Go buy yourself a meal.” Fresleven shouted as he ran off.

* * *

Not to far away Victavane was uprooting a small bit of Mageroyal in Silver Pine forest. Grinning to himself as he thought about the potion finally coming together, and, more notably, the potions highly desirable results, Victavane used a small pocketknife to cut the roots, pocketing the plant as he stood up.
“Victavane, quickly, under Orgrimmar…I need help, tell someone, make haste!”
“Muglazum?” Victavane said aloud. Under Orgrimmar? He thought, pondering the possibility of there actually being a basement to Orgrimmar. A snarl to his left awoke Victavane from his trance. A worg was slowly approaching Victavane, fangs bared. Rolling his eyes, Victavane motioned with his hand and the worg spun around as if distracted by something and ran off. With another slight movement of his hand the worg knocked itself unconscious as it ran into a tree. Laughing to himself sickly Victavane looked back down at the small patch of dirt where he uprooted the Mageroyal. Squinting at the dirt Victavane tried remembering what he was doing.
“Oh yea.” He finally proclaimed, and dashed off towards the Undercity.

* * *

Muglazum could no longer stand; his head lay on the cool stone floor of the cave facing his oncoming death. Every wound on his body stung and ached, the pain was overwhelming. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, preparing for the bites that would soon devour him.
Muglazum heard a blast of wind echo through the tunnel. Opened his eyes to see a figure in dark red robes leap over him. Muglazum felt lightheaded. A hand was felt on his shoulder, Mugalzum looked at his shoulder to see a bony hand in white robes, the hand tightened and began to drag Muglazum. Muglazum closed his eyes again. The beasts must surely be carrying him to some sort of sacrificing chamber. Muglazum heard a blast followed by a hiss and felt cool air rush all over his body. Troggs cried out. The being was still dragging Muglazum, when a weird feeling overcame Muglazum. The feeling was as if he had become nothing, as if he turned into thin air. So, this is what it feels like to die. Was the last thing Muglazum thought before he completely blacked out.