Arrest of the Warlocks

Anou was down in the shadows of the Cleft, practicing under her favorite Orc teachers. It wasn't because she actually needed the practice—it was more to escape the sweltering heat of a dusty afternoon in Orgrimmar. No wonder these Orcs were so tough-skinned. Between the heat, the dust, the dry air and the spiky little critters laying in the sun everywhere, one was bound to develop a brawny outer layer.

"Consider closely your objective, you must."

"Focus your attention, Anoukisse!"

"Concentrate, Anoukisse! To unleash Shadowfury properly, it must hit every target! You need to center it accordingly," admonished Gan'rul for what seemed like the tenth time.

Anou fanned herself. Even down here in the somber dampness, away from the sun's furious rays, there seemed to lay an uncomfortable heat. She took her spell book out again, hoping to find some little tip to help her focus better, when suddenly, she saw Zevrost straighten, looking over her shoulder to the common area of the Cleft.

Grol'dar whispered "Ureda" in a way that raised the hair along her nape. That name was familiar to Anoukisse. Though in truth, she couldn't remember why she knew this. Wasn't Ureda a mage trainer? Or.. a priest? Slowly, Anou turned to see what exactly had everyone's attention. Meanwhile, Gizput, Kurgul's imp, began to snicker and chant in a high, grating staccato, "Ureda-of-the-Black-Flame-Ureda-of-the-Black-Flame-Ureda-of-the-Black-Flame."

Standing before them was a larger-than-life Orc woman with a most ominous disposition.

"Garrosh will not tolerate demon worship within the walls of Orgrimmar. You will submit and allow yourselves to be taken into custody or be destroyed."

At that precise moment, Kasar appeared behind their would-be captors. A very wise Warlock, he quickly understood what was going on, and shouted out, providing a moment of distraction. From behind her, she heard the faintest command she'd ever heard from her mentors: "Circle!" In the space of a heartbeat, Anou had teleported herself to a neighboring chamber, leaving nothing but a pile of dust for Ureda of the Black Flame to exclaim over.

Being a skin-and-bones Blood Elf had its advantages, she thought for once, as she climbed into a large clay pot to ponder her next move.

[N.B.: This entry is part of my "goons of Orgrimmar" series. Nothing official really, no label or anything. But it's part of the changes/events that happened throughout the course of Mists of Pandaria that lead to Siege of Orgrimmar. Also, a big thanks to my awesome GM, for posing for what seemed like hours to get the shots "just right", and for putting up with "these working conditions". ;) Lucky for me, he's "used to this kind of hard, modeling work". /cough ]