Stirring, Marjorie lazily rolled out of her bed, thunking onto the floor in a less-than graceful movement. Pawing around at her bedside table, she yanked a bowl of ointment off and rubbed some around her eyes, all over the scars, and stood up. Her eyes still closed, Marjorie stumbled over to her water basin, grabbed the glass she's set next to it, and collected a bit of the water. Dripping a bit of the ointment into the water, she dribbled some into her eyes once she was sure it was mixed up well enough.
Suddenly, she could see. "Thank the goddess." She grumbled aloud, quickly stripping out of her pajamas (which consisted of a dress, the bottom sliced off an inch or two above the knee. Yanking on her armor, Marjorie clawed her fingers through her hair in a haphazard manner, dunked her face into the basin, trying to keep her hair out of the water, and looked in the mirror in order to do a good inspection of her appearance. (Her mother had scared her to death as a child, giving her stories of body parts vanishing during sleep. Checking herself over had become a ritual since then.)
Her twenty three year old body stood a proud 5 feet 8 inches tall, her short hair poofed in a lazily, un-manageable style, light brown with sun bleached highlights. Tanned skin contrasted strangely with the white stone walls, and her calloused hands, tough from carrying her blade, clenched slightly. From the starting hair line on the left side of her face to the right, going directly across her light, blood colored, clawed eyes, thick scars from a strange, clawed fist weapon where white against the tanned skin.
Marjorie sighed. The scars were a tough fact of life for her, a present from Garrosh Hellscream when he'd surprised her by jumping into the middle of the ring, directly after she'd finished off her opponent and had fallen to her knees, exhausted.
"But I know not all Orcs are like that." Marjorie hummed to herself, remembering her various meetings with Thrall, the leader of the Horde. She checked herself over once more. "Well, no missing body parts."
"Marjorie Catell, I thought I taught you not to believe in that tale." Jaina smiled, standing beside the other woman.
"One year with you in comparison to an entire lifetime with my mother. Hmmm, yep, still believe!"
Jaina shook her head. "Tribe-women!" She said in a playful, 'what-can-you-do' tone of voice.
Pointedly, Marjorie made a face at her. Jaina chuckled.
"So, crazy sorceress of tea and politics, whazz up?"
Now it was Jaina's turn to make a face. "Thrall has requested that we meet with him and discuss, well, I'm not quite sure. His letter didn't really explain."
"Huh. Well, we're still goin'." She answered, smiling.
Jaina smiled back.
"You could just let me do it on my own. You seem busy."
Blinking, Jaina immediately disagreed. Something she'd learn just from meeting the girl was this: Marjorie + Politics = War. However, as Marjorie enjoyed it, and Jaina could control the girl, she always invited her to come along.
"So…we goin?" Marjorie asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"Of course." Jaina smiled, and wrote a few arcane symbols in the air. They shimmered, and transformed into a portal.
Giving her friend a snap salute, Marjorie winked and jumped into the portal.
X
Marjorie looked surprised. Around her was a bustling town, full of orcs and trolls and tauren. "My my. Seems like Thrall asked us here only to show off his city."
"You didn't know this was made?" Jaina seemed surprised.
"No." She sounded indignant. "But really Jaina, I expected better from you. We both know that Thrall's ego is to big already. Bringing me here so he can point of how grand his city is? That just sad, honey." Marjorie shook her head.
"I heard that, girl." A deep voice rumbled. Jaina turned, and smiled at the Warchief. "Thrall, how good it is to see you."
"Thrall! My brother!" Marjorie squealed, launching herself at the Warchief. "I missed you!"
He smiled and caught her, gripping her firmly to his chest. Both he and Jaina were used to Marjorie's 'insanity days', when she gained an entirely new attitude and thought process. This was, obviously, one of those days. "Throm-Ka, Marjorie."
"Throm-Ka!" She agreed, then gave him a very serious look. "I know what you're thinking in your head bone. I'm not having an insanity day. Honest!" She added at his disbelieving expression. "A nightmare has me out of sorts, that's all."
"Of course." He nobly agreed, getting a smack in the arm in response.
"Speak, Thrall. We know you didn't call us here for a pleasantry visit." Jaina's voice held calm coolness, and she watched Thrall's every move with her blue eyes.
"I wish it could be just that: A pleasantry visit." Thrall looked away, his expression troubled. "Let us take this conversation into my chambers."
Thrall offered his arm to Jaina, who smiled and nudged Marjorie forward, forcing her to take his arm instead. "Match-making women." Marjorie sighed in the same tone Jaina had said, 'Tribe-women' in earlier.
Thrall chuckled. The three of them walked out of the throne room and through the few corridors, chatting about Thrall's new city. "You're the sweetest person, Thrall." Marjorie murmured as they entered his chambers. "Not only did you name your land after your father, but you named your city after your friend." She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. Jaina smiled and squeezed Marjorie's other hand in a gesture of mutual agreement and happiness.
Feeling the emotions, Marjorie nodded in response. They sat on the floor, in a circle made of thick animal furs. Before them was a fire pit with un-burnt logs, which Jaina lit with a twitch of her finger. Thrall sat, a girl on each side. Jaina kneeled, while Marjorie collapsed unceremoniously onto the furs, laying with her head near his knee.
"Jaina, what did you last hear from your father?"
"That he was going to go resolve a few conflicts." Jaina answered simply, looking slightly confused.
Thrall looked away for a brief moment, then looked back at the two women. "And I suppose he told you nothing of what these 'conflicts' were."
"You are correct."
"Jaina, your father and his men have brought their ships here in order to kill us. Slaughter us. I have been trying to make peace with them, but in-between their attacks on my people, and my people's attacks on them, my gestures of peace must seem more like gestures of war."
"Ah, he wouldn't!" Jaina answered in a stunned, hurt voice.
"Yes he would." Marjorie corrected. She leaned up slightly. "My mother had a phrase she commonly used: 'A man has a routine, Marjorie.' She'd tell me. 'And this routine always includes choosing something to segregate and kill. No matter how much he changes, there is always something.'
"Now think, Jaina. Your father hates Orcs like I hate spiders. He wants to eliminate every single one of them." She paused, shooting Thrall an apologetic look. "He thinks they're crude savages. Even if it wasn't him, he's taught his men enough so that now all they can think is how Orcs have to be that part of their cycle. No matter what you think, if Thrall says that it's your father's men, then whether your father is behind it or not, they're there, killing and slaughtering the Orcs."
"I can't believe..." Jaina breathed, looking into the fire.
X
With a gasp, Marjorie awoke. Looking around her, her blurry eyes showed enough to remind her that she was, indeed, still in her room. Strange. It's been forever since I've dreamed of an ambassador meeting with Thrall.
She repeated her daily activities that she'd done in her dream, helping her eyes and scars, dressing, and looking herself over. Grabbing her blade, Marjorie wary looked it over, a feeling of dread and fear overcoming her quite suddenly. The blade was fine, still the same home-made one she'd had since her times in the ring. Much like a traditional rouge sword, it was double edged, and had a flat tip instead of a diagonal one. The handle, plain back iron, much like her fellow Horde used, was slightly warm in her hand, giving off a comfortable feeling of closeness.
Someone knocked on the door, and she turned, calling out a greeting. A troll entered, his eyes sweeping around the room for a moment, as if checking for hidden enemies.
"Vol'jin!" Marjorie said in surprise, quickly bowing to him. "What brings you here? I was just on my way to Grommash Hold."
"That's why I came to see you. I was hoping you'd be coming soon."
She frowned, her forehead creasing. "Trouble?"
"Sometin like that." He answered evasively, watching her tense up even more. "You better jus' come 'in hear about it yourself."
"Alright." Marjorie, curious, slipped her blade back into its sheath and strapped it to her waist before following Vol'jin out of her house, and towards Grommash hold. By the time she'd arrived, she was extremely cross, and had given Vol'jin at least ten death glares by now.
"Marjorie, thank the spirits you're here." Thrall stood, reaching his hand out to the human.
She let him grip her hand with his, and was tugged up to sit on one of the arms of Thrall's throne. "What's wrong, Thrall? Vol'jin, damned Troll, refuses to tell me anything."
Thrall sighed. His eyes were filled with worry, and his body was tense. Frowning at the emotions coming at her in waves, Marjorie ran a comforting hand up and down his arm.
"A few patrons to our inn were turned into ghouls." Thrall stated. Marjorie raised an eyebrow, and gave him a 'are-you-kidding-me?' face.
"How?"
"From what I've been told, the last thing they were seen doing was collecting some grain from one of the newly arrived crates. They were getting it for Innkeeper Gryshka, obviously."
"Plagued grain." Marjorie breathed.
"Exactly." Thrall covered his face with his hands.
"Do we have anyway of knowing what crates a plagued, and what ones aren't?"
"No. And from what I've heard, every Alliance city, Booty Bay, and all the other Horde cities are full of these crates as well."
"Chimmas." She breathed, looking shocked. "We need a plan, and a fast one."
"We already have our hunters and anyone else who can manage out killing as many animals that are fit to eat as possible." He answered. "And our farmers are delivering all of the food that they can. Our guards are having Shamans and Mages and such use their powers in order to destroy every crate in the city."
"Because we have no way of knowing." Marjorie sighed, shaking her head at the thought of so much good food being wasted.
"But, whether everyone is working or not, we still won't have enough food for everyone until a few days from now."
Marjorie frowned. This was, indeed, a problem. As Orgrimmar was the biggest Horde city, and the 'home of the Horde', there were more people then in any other Horde capital city. "We can't ask any of the other cities to supply food. Well, we could as Undercity, but I wouldn't trust anything from them on a good day."
Thrall couldn't help but chuckle at that. They both sat still, thinking up ways they could help Orgrimmar. He twitched slightly when a stream of comfort flowed through his body, and glanced at Marjorie's hand. It still rested on his arm, and she flashed him a smile before regaining her 'thinking-face.'
She told me about her powers, and I still can't get used to it. Thrall thought. Marjorie had, in fact, told him of her powers the very first day they met. She, and all of the other females from her tribe (or so her mother claimed), had the power of empathy. If they became close enough, or good enough friends with someone, they could always feel that person's emotions, and could give said person their own emotions.
I can only imagine what my emotions feel like now. He had to admit, he'd been slightly uncomfortable with someone knowing how he felt, all day, and all night. He was used to being able to put on a strong face if he was upset, and know that no one could see through it. Now, Marjorie could feel every pain of anger and sadness and hate that went through him when he passed by Mannoroth's remains.
"I got it!" Marjorie exclaimed, jumping up. Thrall looked at her, yanked out of his thoughts.
"What is it, child?" Vol'jin questioned.
"Well, Jaina is a good friend of mine and Thrall's yeah? And she doesn't run a capital city, yeah? So, I could go to her and request just some food in order to help us." She noticed their doubting looks and sighed. "Come on, Thrall! Remember when I joined the Horde, and Jain said, and I quote, 'If you ever need anything, tell me. I am forever in your debt.' Well, all mighty Warchief, we need food, and now."
Thrall sat, saying nothing for a few long moments. Finally he nodded. "Go then, daughter of the Horde. But remember, at the slightest sign of danger I want to you leave immediately. Do not hurt the humans, destroying what is left of our fragile treaty would not be helpful at this time."
Marjorie's face split into a huge grin, and she bowed deeply. "Swobu, Warchief." With a nod to him, she raced out of the hold.
XX
X
A/N: Woot, chappie one finished! (finally). I don't know how well I'm playing Thrall, as they really don't give much on her personality on Wowwiki. So, please, tell me what I'm doing right/wrong and stuff!
Anywho, this is Marjorie: http://trendyshorthairstyles. . (get rid of space in-between '.' and 'files')
Just give her blood red eyes, and scars, and slightly tanned skin!
Read and Review!
Mars