A guttural cry wrenched its way free from Clotho as she felt Mar's intrusion.  The impact sent her tumbling from the treebranch, and the ensuing pain and sheer disturbance of that sensation prevented her instincts from kicking in to open her wings.  On the ground she writhed, appropriately like one possessed, as the murky corruption of Mar surged through her systems.  It repulsed her immensely, both during and after the process.  At last, however, the invasion ceased.  Shaking with rage rather than shock, Clotho got to her feet.  It did not take a genius to figure out that some kind of parasite afflicted her, though she did embody a certain kind of genius.

[color=9F8170]”What is the meaning of this disgusting attack?  Are you trying to control me?  I would rather dash myself to pieces on a rock, or order my own soldiers to rip me to shreds, than become the puppet of some repulsive ooze.  Whatever the hell you are, you're not part of the orc forces, which means you're under the command of the Master.  I am the epitome of loyalty and service to the Master, so I highly doubt that this pervasive intrusion is sanctioned.  I imagine that he could eradicate you in seconds.  Perhaps you are the captive here, not me.  Regardless, if you aim to control me, you're doing an especially poor job.  Struggling with my anatomy, perhaps?  It's not your everyday fare.”[/color]

With every passing second, Mar struck her as less threatening and more pathetic.  What could the gelatinous weasel hope to accomplish by messing with one of the Master's chief lieutenants?  Putting this matter aside, she could not afford to banter with whatever despicable slime had infested her.  The Horde had begun to move, and with it Clotho moved as well.  Her insect army made good time, and before to long she and her troops arrived at the rendezvous point where the demons of the Master waited.  She watched, still heartily displeased by the inky pestilence but more contemptuous than fearful, as the Master brokered an agreement with the great dragon.  If anything could penetrate her acerbic attitude and earn her praise, it would be Khilgarrath.  Never had the swarm queen seen a dragon, and it truly risked thrilling her to see a legend come to life.