Grim Views

Greetings and Salutations!

My name is Pahr Fecht. I ran into an old undead friend of mine the other day and we got to talking like girls will when they're tossing down a few ales. So I asked her where she's been hanging lately and she told me all about the Grim and said I should join her.

So I'm no doltz, I go do some research, and there's nothing out there on you guys! So I find Mortica again and I'm like "Girlfriend, that guild of yours doesn't exist!" and she's like "Nuh, uh, we're awesome". And I'm like, do guys even have a slogan?? And she's like, "We've got the best slogan, it's "Peace through Annihilation". So we have a few more ales, and I get this great big light bulb of an idea.

You guys need an agent!

For the negligible fee of 10% of your weekly gold intake, I'll be your face to the rest of the world! I'll get your name out there! You'll have the bestest fighters in the Horde hankering to fight under your banner. There'll be Grim posters everywhere! I'll have big political dinners with all the Horde leaders coming to dinner and you guys tell them how awesome you are. Face time baby. I can bring it.

So let me know what you Grim think about this!

Peace through Annihilation. Yeah, I can see it now.


Your future servant!

Pahr Fecht
Illustrious Jewelcrafter
Illustrious Scribe
Death Knight Diva Extraordinaire

Qarosimae reads the letter once.

She reads it a second time, to be sure she read it correctly the first time.

She hands it to Inzema, who materializes behind her at the appropriate moment, who reads it as well. He shrugs and hands it back. Qarosimae mutters a string of curses, finishing with "Felrotted...ugh." Inzema cackles at Qarosimae and vanishes.

Mortica yawned as she passed by the Inquisitors's office. A new day, new tasks to accomplish, and when those tasks were done, she could head back out to the Ramkahen's dam and try to catch that two hundred pound catfish she'd heard the strange lion folk talk about.

She made it a couple steps past the door before something made her stop and peek back into the office. An all too familiar gold-flaked letter lay on top of the desk.

Mortica closed her eyes and instinctively melded herself against the wall near the doorway. She sucked air into her mostly useless lungs and held it for a moment before releasing the air back through the metallic contraption in her mouth that kept her jaw permanently hinged to the rest of her skull. She listened for sounds of activity in the compound. Most were still asleep. From far off she could hear the chink of metal on metal in the armory, but otherwise everything was silent.

She opened her eyes again and swiveled her head from side to side, letting her eyes confirm that no one was around. She let her weight shift onto the balls of her feet and stealthed into the office and grabbed the letter off of the desk.

Her first instinct was to toss it into the fire, but the cracked seal meant that option had long since passed. Her next thought was to still toss it into the fire and then cook up a forgetful potion to slip into the Inquisitor's tea, or coffee, or wine, or whatever blood elves drank in the morning.

One after another, scenarios ran through her head, none of which ended well. Through the heavily reinforced window, Mortica could see the sun starting to peak over the horizon. Finally she pulled out one of her smaller, sharper knives and cut her name out of the letter, leaving neat square holes in the paper. She grabbed the small damning slips of paper and ate them.

The letter she left exactly where she had found it. Outside in the hallway, Mortica raced as quickly as she dared out the door to find a quiet spot in the Highlands to eviscerate dwarves and pretend they were a certain goblin.