In the Moo of Madness

This is one I started writing maybe two years back, based on some antics I got up to with a pal in an online game. Finally got around to finishing it this week. More to come on its origins at the end. Enjoy!

In the Moo of Madness

I had been lost for hours, separated from my companions, their fates unknown to me. The woods closed in, cutting me off at every turn, and spinning me around until I had no sense of direction. The canopy was so thick I could see neither sun nor stars. It was rumored that an evil sorcerer inhabited these very woods, and it would seem I was now caught in their trap.

At last, the faint sent of a campfire drew me in a new direction, and I came upon a clearing where two creatures sat around a fire. One was giant, bovine-like, perhaps one of the fabled minotaurs. By its structure I could see it was a female, though she wore little more than rough hides to preserve her dignity. Despite her menacing physique, she had a kind, but determined, countenance. The other creature was a she-elf, diminutive by comparison to the giant. Unlike the giant, she was fully dressed, though in the style more of a vagabond, with ragged pants, tattered above the ankles, and a loose fitting, stained, white blouse. Her long, jet black, hair was pulled back into a tail, with her pointed ears almost drooping at the side of her head. The most striking feature were her eyes, glowing in green flame, implying that she had succumbed to the consumption of profane energies. In further contrast to the giant, her face was far from kind, wincing and irate.

The two sat motionless, staring intensely at one another. They seemed not to notice me. I cautiously approached and made myself known.

“Apologies, good ladies, but I seem to be lost.”

They both slowly turned to look at me, but still said nothing. Their gaze burned through me, intense, unyielding. Had I offended them? Maybe they didn’t understand my speech?

“I mean no offense. I am merely—”

The elf’s eyes began to burn brighter, and she started to tremble. She rose to her feet with her fists clenched. Her cheeks puffed out as her face reddened.

I began to back away, my hands up in front of me. “I’ll just be going—”

The elf’s face turned blue, her trembling intensified, and finally she let out a loud gasp and started breathing heavily. She turned to the giant, who now looked at her, still saying nothing, with her hand behind her back, and apparently not breathing.

“You’re cheating!” the elf shouted. She leapt across the fire toward the giant and started pawing around at the hand behind her back. “You have a potion!”

The giant shook her head back and forth, and with her free hand lifted the elf and held her at bay. The elf continued kicking and reaching, finally grasping at a small vial held behind the giant’s back. “AHA! The record doesn’t count if you took a potion!”

The giant put the elf down. “It’s just medicine for my cough.”

“A breathless potion more like. You couldn’t beat me fair and square, so you cheated.”

“I didn’t.” The giant protested. “I just have bigger lungs than you, so I can hold my breath longer. That’s skin cream, actually. It’s how I maintain my good looks.”

“A potion!” The elf said as she sniffed at the open flask. “Where did you get it? That druid I thumped?”

“No… well, yes.” The giant sighed.

“What does that mean?”

“I got it from the lady you said you thumped, but she’s not a druid. She’s an alchemist.”

“An alchemist!” The elf leaped across the fire again, seemly unharmed by its flames, and picked up an intricate staff. “No. Her mam is a witch, that’s why she had to get thumped.”

“I thought you said you thumped the druid?”

“No. Listen when I speak, gods damn you. I thumped the druid’s mam, who happened to be a witch.” The elf said, as she practiced swinging her staff.

“She’s an old lady!”

“Don’t let her fool you. Her evil powers hide her true form. She’s a monstrous hag beneath all that. It was a great battle, it lasted for three days.”

The giant crossed her arms. “Where was I when this battle happened?”

“Who knows? I don’t keep track of you, like you keep track of me. You’re a stalker, and I know it, because I’m always watching you! Who are you working for? Xikast the Necromancer?”

“I think you hit an innocent old lady in the head with your staff, and that’s the whole story.”

“A witch.” The elf said, under her breath.

“No.” the giant sighed. “Besides, even if she was a witch, what makes a witch so evil?”

“She has access to the dark arts. You understand nothing! She can turn people into terrible creatures and inflict great maladies.”

The giant cocked her head. “But you can conjure magical energies on a whim. And one time you turned Big Jenny into a rabbit.”

“I did not!” the elf protested. “I turned his cousin into a rabbit. I turned Big Jenny into a goat. But that’s not evil. That witch also poisons people.”

“You poisoned Kandy, that orcish blacksmith.”

“He deserved it.” The elf said, with a satisfactory grin.

“He did.” The giant nodded.

Finally, I interjected. “Excuse me? Hello? I’m lost. Any idea how I can get out of these woods?”

“Do you known this guy?” the elf asked.

The giant rubbed at her chin. “Maybe. Are you Mark? No, Tony. I bet it’s Craig.”

I slowly began walking toward them. “I am not any of those people. I am called Thomas. And what you are called?”

“I am Mootella.” The giant said. “And I call her Consequela.”

I looked to the elf, “I take it from your story that you’re some sort of sorcerer, Consequela? Do you—”

“No” the elf replied. “That’s what she calls me. But it’s not my name.”

“Ah—” I began, unsure of how to continue, before turning back to the giant “—I see. And you’re Mootella? That’s a little on the nose, isn’t it?”

Mootella crossed her eyes and began staring down her long face. “What’s on my nose?”

“No.” I clarified. “I didn’t say there was anything on your nose. I was saying that you look like a cow and your name is Moo—”

The elf ran over to look at the giant’s nose. “It’s detritus, I bet.”

Mootella stuck out her long tongue and licked at her nose. “What’s detritus?”

“Poo”

“Why would I have poo on my nose?”

“Don’t your kind sniff each other’s butts?”

Mootella laughed “That’s dogs.”

“Eww.” The elf winced. “You sniff dog butts?”

“No! Anyway, it was blackberry, I think.”

“Where did you get blackberry?” The elf’s eyes grew wide and she grinned. “From the pie!”

The giant nodded and rubbed at her belly.

The elf vanished for a brief second, and then appeared several meters away, next to a large basket behind where they had been sitting previously. From within she produced an endless supply of objects that couldn’t possibly fit in the basket; A wooden rocking chair, two large gourds, a flaming torch, six gold bars, a fed up looking gnome, nude, who immediately ran when she set him on the ground, and then at last two plates with an immaculate piece of pie on each them. She swiftly ran back to hand one to Mootella, and the two sat down and began eating.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

“Excuse me?” I began again.

Mootella looked up, her face smeared with pie. “Do you know this guy?”

The elf nodded. “He’s Thomas.”

“Thomas? Doesn’t sound familiar. Where do you know him from?”

“We met him in the forest. You were there too, fool. You know him.”

The giant shrugged. “Sorry, I guess you didn’t make much of an impression.”

“He was very insistent.” The elf groaned. “He interrupted our competition and even interrupted us while we were having pie.”

“He sounds terrible.”

“No.” The elf said, a hint of whimsy in her voice. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

“Look, I don’t know either of you!” I bellowed. “I’m just looking for a way out of here.”

Mootella put down her pie, stood up, and walked over to me. She pushed one of her massive fingers into my chest. “You got a problem with us, little fella?”

I cowered slightly and put my hands in front of me again. “Yes—no, I mean no.”

“You don’t have to take that from him!” the elf snarled.

The giant grabbed my shoulder tightly. “If you got a problem with me, just say it.”

“No… no…” I stuttered. “No problem at all.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, her voice dripping with venom. It felt like my shoulder might snap any second.

“Oh, absolutely.” I whimpered.

“Alright,” She said, releasing me, her voice becoming more pleasant. “Because if I’m being honest, I don’t get enough feedback on my behavior. I can be a little too aggressive sometimes and people are afraid to tell me so.”

“That’s because you don’t listen.” The elf cried out.

”What?” Mootella asked, turning back confused.

The elf looked to me. “She gets like this when she drinks.”

“What?” Mootella gasped. “I haven’t had much to drink at all today.”

“She also gets like this when she hasn’t had enough to drink. It’s a vicious cycle.”

Mootella walked back toward the fire and lifted a large barrel with a tap on the end and set it on her shoulder. With her other hand she grabbed two giant tankards. With a smooth motion she flicked the tap open by bashing one of the tankards against it, and then filled one tankard after the other. She then flicked it back closed, splashing liquid everywhere, before finally putting the barrel down.

She sat down next to the elf and handed her one of the tankards, which was comically large for such a small creature.

“Oh no, I don’t drink this stuff.” The elf objected.

“It’s alcohol.” Mootella insisted.

“Well, in that case.” The elf said, as she took the giant tankard, clanked it against Mootella’s vessel, and the two began guzzling the drink.

“Ok, well, if you’re not going to help me—” I finally said.

“He’s so rude.” The elf moaned.

“Give him a chance.” Mootella said. “Maybe he just needs a drink? Or pie? Come over and sit by us. We don’t bite.”

“She does bite.” The elf corrected.

Mootella nodded.

I stood my ground and repeated my plea. “I just need to get out of here and find my friends. Is there any way you can point me in the right direction?”

“Our libations aren’t good enough for him.” The elf scoffed.

“Should we thump him?” Mootella asked.

“You get so violent when you drink.”

“I do not!” the giant bellowed as she threw her tankard against the trunk of a nearby tree, shattering it.

“You do. It’s a shame, too. What would your mother say?”

Mootella leaped to her feet. “How dare you!”

“It’s true.” The elf said, a hint of contempt in her tone.

“Take it back.”

“I won’t.” The elf said, turning away. “Imagine if she saw you now.”

“But I have no idea who my mother is.” Mootella moaned, as she broke into tears.

“Exactly. That’s why you have to imagine it, because you don’t actually know what she looks like.” The elf said, her tone shifting, shockingly, to overwhelming warmth.

Mootella covered her face, as she continued to cry.

“And if she saw you now, here, in this place, drunk, and having to take guff from a swine like Thomas, would she be proud? We may never know. But, she would be very proud that you finished school. You have that.”

Mootella looked up, her tears ceasing instantly. “I didn’t finish school. I never went to school at all.”

“Precisely. It’s because your mother wasn’t there to take you. What choice did you have but to become a violent brute? She’s the real problem here, not Thomas. You have to stop taking things out on him.”

“WHO IS THOMAS?” Mootella growled, her voice shaking the trees.

The elf began to levitate from the ground, fire erupting from her hands. “Don’t raise your voice with me!”

Mootella let out a bestial roar and ran at the elf, but just as she would have tackled her, the elf vanished, reappearing a few seconds later. The elf then released the fire from her hands in great waves toward Mootella. The fire bounced off, harmlessly. Mootella slammed her mighty fist through a nearby tree, shattering it, sending splinters in the elf’s direction, piercing her and sending her to the ground.

But that was the last I saw. I wanted no more of them. If I was to die in these woods it would be of my own means, and not as a bystander to the quarrel of some psychotic hobos.

Mootella and Caecelia lay on the ground laughing.

“Did you see his face?” Mootella asked.

Caecelia sat up. “We had him good. Poor guy.”

“We sure did. Time to release the enchantment. We’ve got to get out of here before that guy finds a paladin, or some other do-gooder.”

Caecelia stood up. “Enchantment?”

“Yes. On the woods.” Mootella said, annoyed. “The one that traps people in here. Release it so we can go home. I told Mooseman I’d teach him how to read after we had our picnic.”

“But you can’t read yourself.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that. He won’t know I’m teaching him the wrong things. Now break the spell and get us outa here.”

Caecelia shrugged. “I didn’t enchant these woods. It’s probably Xikast the Necromancer.”

“Wait. You lead us, intentionally, into the enchanted woods, knowing you couldn’t get us out?”

“Intentionally is a strong word.” Caecelia muttered. “I kind of forgot.”

“How can you forget? It’s called the enchanted woods!” Mootella hissed.

“I have poor organizational skills. Your mother was never around to teach me these things.” Caecelia pleaded.

“She must have been something awful alright.” Mootella laughed. “Alright then. Let’s go thump Xikast and head home.”

“Do you know where he lives?” Caecelia questioned.

“Of course. We play cards on Thursdays.”

“And you’re able to get to his evil tower and back out after the card game?”

“Yeah.” Mootella nodded as she began loading their picnic supplies into a nearby cart. “There’s a secret path that’s free of enchantment. It’s how Xikast gets in an out for his Sunday knitting group.”

“So can’t we just go that way and leave?”

Mootella paused to think. “Right… but then we wouldn’t need to thump him.”

Caecelia put her head into her hands in disgust. “Good gods. What a pair of idiots we are! Thankfully we have each other to keep things straight. Let’s get things packed and go beat the hells out of Xikast.”

A few years back I played on a World of Warcraft private server called Chromiecraft (WotLK progression server). Private Servers can be great when the populations aren’t super high, but they still have a core of dedicated players. The result is a community where everyone knows the major players, whether those are top tier PvPers, raiders, or just weirdos.

I was leveling up a mage and running dungeons. I ended up grouped with this Tauren female warrior named Mootella. This particular server had incorporated transmog, so Moo’s player had hidden all of the character’s armor so she looked like she was just running around in her underwear.

Moo’s player took no breaks, just ran at full speed gathering up huge packs for me to AoE down. We were cruising through dungeons. Moo never needed healing and the other two DPS could sleep while I was on the case (Frost Mage with WotLK talents sub level 60 was bonkers OP). We started palling around, I got invited to the guild Moo was in, and ended up raiding with them. Nobody knew how to pronounce my character named, Caecelia (kai-keh-lee-ah, by the way), so in voice chat the raid leader (who I think was Hungarian?) would just call me “Consequela”… and that stuck.

More importantly, Moo and I were known for our antics while hanging around town, mostly just being goofy. We formed a little group of fools with a few other players, chief among them a character named Icewallow (get it… say his name… so clever)… who might have been a distant cousin of mine living in Sicily, we never did figure that out! 😄

My character’s hair was supposed to be black, but when using the modern texture packs, it was red for some reason. So, depending on what packs another player was using my hair was either red or black. 🤷

It was a good time, until it stopped being a good time. Nothing to do with Moo and my other pals. The server finally progressed to Burning Crusade and I just lost interest. It didn’t help that I started a new job that would prevent me from raiding during the day. My guild, and the core of the server’s population, were in Europe, so their prime raid times were in the middle of the afternoon for me.

Maybe I’ll go back someday, but I doubt it will be the same. Also, during evening hours in North America the server was full of jerkoff right-wing incels. So that kinda sucked.