Grim Views

A tiny mechanical raptor pads up to whoever is currently taking applications, gears whirring anxiously as it waits politely.

Upon acknowledgement, the robot roars a tiny little ferocious grind of even tinier cogs, and a hologram appears, levitated over its back.

A young Troll appears in the fuzzy hologram picture, talking calmly and noticeably lacking any sort of accent, "Hello, Grim Application-Taker. I am Im'pera Silverstream, lately of Bilgewater Harbor and currently of a small inn in Orgrimmar. I heard that you were the group to contact if I really wanted to fight the Alliance... not just keep them at a stalemate for years, but to bring the fight to them.

I've been training as a shaman for nearly two decades, as soon as I was able to engineer my first totem. My domain is mainly confined to water and healing, but I hold no love nor mercy for any of the Alliance.

Should you be willing to talk, please send a message back with this cogwork creature, it will find its way to me no matter where I am."

The hologram snaps off and the raptor looks up expectantly.

Syreena stared suspiciously at a tiny robot someone left on her desk. Was it a toy? Did her engineering minion make it for her? The little Forsaken stood there for a while, scowling at it.

Finally, she reached out to poke it and blinked when the image of a troll gave his message. "Who the fel brought this here, instead of to Zalanjo's office?" she shouted toward her open door, then she muttered, "Lazy troll."

"Um, greetings, Im'pera," she said, speaking to the little mechanical raptor in her raspy voice. "Join in on the Grim Inquisition meeting Friday in the Hunt Shop, right next door to the Brawl'gar Arena, at 8:30."

Grabbing the robot, she set it on the floor, facing her door. "Now shoo!"