Grendze had not seen Cristok for many more days then usual. The Druid's behavior had been odd and secretive latley. The rogue went to Thunder Bluff to investigate only to find dreadful news. The exalted Druid had been found dead at the base of the great spirit rise. Some suggested it was an accident, others that it was suicide. Grendze was convinced of foul play. Reluctantly, the Goblin of the Grim notifyed his new found employers and quickly went into hiding, waiting to see if more were to end up dead in whatever scheme Cristok had gotten them all into.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0e2w3lSGEps
*A note is found on the door of the Grim Guild Hall*
Master Enforcer! It seems the city of Thunder Bluff is not as safe as it used to be. My mentor Cristok has been found dead apparently and no one knows what happened to him. I am happy to aide the Grim in anyway it would like to get to the bottom of this injustice! Unless of course it was commanded by you. Then *many parts of the note are crossed out and scribbled over at this point* Well regardless! You can find me in the Echo Isles if ye need!
-Grendze
Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
Grendze qucikly made off to the Echo Isles awaiting word from the Grim on what to do. Would they give him an Inquisitor? Would they torture him to find out what he knew? What did he know? Nothing damn it! As he argued with himself.
"I suppose a little drink and a game of dice would take my mind off things."
The Goblin was used to being in hiding. He wondered this time how long it would last as he slide into his rocket trike enroute to a little forced vacation.
"I suppose a little drink and a game of dice would take my mind off things."
The Goblin was used to being in hiding. He wondered this time how long it would last as he slide into his rocket trike enroute to a little forced vacation.
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
Leyu'jin gnashed his teeth, his clenched fist crumpling a piece of parchment. Cristok, ded, the troll thought darkly. How could it have happened? To a Grim?
The Bluffwatcher had dispatched the notice to Leyu'jin himself. Even a warrior had to keep his ears to the ground, and Leyu'jin had contacts with soldiers and officers at each Horde settlement. Thunder Bluff especially; having adopted two Shu'halo as his blood brothers had tied him to the Tauren. So how could a murder of a Grim, ma mentor, ba all da Loa cold an' deep, happen in relatively plain sight?
The troll tossed the parchment aside and leaned back. Who could he count on nowadays? There were so many new faces, and so many old ones gone; his brother, Yichimet, having been lost among the spirits for months now. But even in that thought, he'd found the answer, for he was not alone. Even as one brother was missing, the other remained... one most suited for the hunt about to ensue.
"Damballah 'imself will hav da heart o' da scum who wrought dis," Leyu'jin muttered, laying down a piece of parchment of his own. Sitting down on a log bench, split down the middle, the troll began to write.
The Bluffwatcher had dispatched the notice to Leyu'jin himself. Even a warrior had to keep his ears to the ground, and Leyu'jin had contacts with soldiers and officers at each Horde settlement. Thunder Bluff especially; having adopted two Shu'halo as his blood brothers had tied him to the Tauren. So how could a murder of a Grim, ma mentor, ba all da Loa cold an' deep, happen in relatively plain sight?
The troll tossed the parchment aside and leaned back. Who could he count on nowadays? There were so many new faces, and so many old ones gone; his brother, Yichimet, having been lost among the spirits for months now. But even in that thought, he'd found the answer, for he was not alone. Even as one brother was missing, the other remained... one most suited for the hunt about to ensue.
"Damballah 'imself will hav da heart o' da scum who wrought dis," Leyu'jin muttered, laying down a piece of parchment of his own. Sitting down on a log bench, split down the middle, the troll began to write.
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
It was not my duty.
Tahlren extended his arms and tilt back his head, giving himself the usual stretch after a day of hunting. Upon arriving to the guild hall, he spots the note, giving it a quick scan. His expression was unusually cold, glancing down at his hands. Claws.
How did someone this weak even make it here? It's a shame I had to take action after his years of service. I have only corrected a mistake.
He pondered for a moment of the consequences. He released a sigh, turning away to head into the hall.
This goblin might be troublesome.
The druid lowered his head, exiting the hall in silence.
___________________________________________________________________
Only a day later, the druid began packing. It would not be long before the body is examined. Tahlren knew his time as a Grim was soon to be concluded. His actions were harsh and unforgivable in the eyes of the Irredeemables, but he acted in the Grim's favor. He acted in the Grim's name, to silence a coward and weakling that thought the Mandate as a guideline for choices. The Mandate does not require those who ponder and question its purpose. It needs only those which act on its behalf, for its goals.
Cristok lost faith in the Mandate. Tahlren acted on that simply fact.
The druid was never one for words. He cared little for arguments, or to persuade others to think differently. A letter would not do.
When they find that I'm lost, Tahlren thought, unraveling the gnarled roots that bound his wolf to the stables. They will either know it was me, or they will assume I am dead. For years, I will never show my face. For decades, I may never officially serve the Mandate. For the remainder of my life, I will never regret my decision.
His hand gently stroked the ghostly strands of hair on the spectral wolf, heaving a sigh before raising himself upon her pelt. He patted her neck twice, signaling to her.
If they hunt me, they better be prepared. This is my game now.
Tahlren extended his arms and tilt back his head, giving himself the usual stretch after a day of hunting. Upon arriving to the guild hall, he spots the note, giving it a quick scan. His expression was unusually cold, glancing down at his hands. Claws.
How did someone this weak even make it here? It's a shame I had to take action after his years of service. I have only corrected a mistake.
He pondered for a moment of the consequences. He released a sigh, turning away to head into the hall.
This goblin might be troublesome.
The druid lowered his head, exiting the hall in silence.
___________________________________________________________________
Only a day later, the druid began packing. It would not be long before the body is examined. Tahlren knew his time as a Grim was soon to be concluded. His actions were harsh and unforgivable in the eyes of the Irredeemables, but he acted in the Grim's favor. He acted in the Grim's name, to silence a coward and weakling that thought the Mandate as a guideline for choices. The Mandate does not require those who ponder and question its purpose. It needs only those which act on its behalf, for its goals.
Cristok lost faith in the Mandate. Tahlren acted on that simply fact.
The druid was never one for words. He cared little for arguments, or to persuade others to think differently. A letter would not do.
When they find that I'm lost, Tahlren thought, unraveling the gnarled roots that bound his wolf to the stables. They will either know it was me, or they will assume I am dead. For years, I will never show my face. For decades, I may never officially serve the Mandate. For the remainder of my life, I will never regret my decision.
His hand gently stroked the ghostly strands of hair on the spectral wolf, heaving a sigh before raising himself upon her pelt. He patted her neck twice, signaling to her.
If they hunt me, they better be prepared. This is my game now.
Fire catches wind
Qarosimae was in her study, lounging in her bathrobe with a book on the physics of the nether by a Draenei scientist, something rare in and of itself due to the religious followings of the demons, when Berk brought her a package. The orcling had changed his shaved head style for a topknot after reading a story about the blademasters of the Burning Blade clan, though it was black and red for the colors of the Grim, matching his tabard. "Package for you, boss," he said, his Thalassian only slightly accented. Qarosimae smiled, set down her book, and accepted the package. The package had no obvious note to mention who it was from, but Qarosimae instantly recognized Anaie's entropic script scrawling her name across the face of an attached envelope. Madness tainted everything she did, yet her lucidity at times could not be denied. It was the lucidity that made the madness more dominant. Inside the envelope was a note.
"I caught the minion Grendze wearin' dis twice...After I ordered its removal. I will make a note in the guild hall regarding my talk with him. -Anaie"
The note combusted, the ashes whisked away by an arcane touch into the fireplace. Qarosimae's right ear twitched. She looked up at Berk, who was half-grinning at Inzema, leaning on the back of Qarosimae's chair. "We gotsss a troublemaker, huh?" the undead said, his face, especially his mouth, spattered with blood fresh enough that it hadn't dried yet. He had likely stored a body somewhere in the Sanctum. Thrilling...
"Appears so. We should have a talk with him." Qarosimae pulled her robe tighter around her and stood, stretching her back and rolling her shoulders. "I will probably have to make a project of him. He may be able to determine something of Cristok's murder." "That ssso? Ya think I can't?" "I think any information you come up with will be tainted by the fact that you are a self-proclaimed madman with a taste for blood, and people would be unable to say with certainty if you had killed a Grim, because we know you will if you come up with something, purely for the sake of doing so." Inzema's grin did not slip, in fact it grew wider. His goggles clicked and whirred while he tapped the back of the chair with bony fingers. "Yeah, it'd be fun, but not worth the trouble."
Qarosimae rolled her good eye and waved a hand dismissively at him. "Find Grendze. I will be along shortly. I have to change." Inzema snapped to attention and saluted, a mockery of the salute of the Silvermoon guards. He vanished with a cackle like he was never there.
---~---
Grendze was pretty good at hiding. The tall folks paid less attention to him. That being said, it wasn't merely paranoia that kept giving him the feeling he was being watched. Grendze was walking towards the Valley of Wisdom through The Drag when he first sensed he was being watched, but the crowds of Orgrimmar prevented him from actually seeing if anyone actually was. It took too long and was too noticable for him to climb high enough to see above the others, and it was impossible to tell if someone was watching him by looking at their lower halves. To root out his follower, he took a sudden turn into the hallway to the Valley of Honor and watched. There, in the crowd, was a Grim tabard, moving purposely in his direction. Grendze cursed and weaved his way through the crowds with the ability only a Goblin rogue could hope to manage, dodging feet and hooves and all sorts of other legs.
When he stopped running, he was outside the bank. He ducked inside and hid in the shadows, crouching and waiting. The feeling of danger didn't diminish as the time went on, despite the coming and going of dozens of bank patrons with no sign of a Grim tabard. There shouldn't even have been a reason to fear the tabard, save that paranoid little voice that suddenly started screaming danger. Why...
"Oi, You're Grendze, yeah?"
The voice came from a man standing right in front of Grendze that definitely hadn't been there before, wrapped up in leather, with engineer's goggles over his eyes and a shark's grin, dozens of knives sheathed on his person and a Grim tabard on his chest. Grendze squeaked in surprise. "Ah, y-yes?" The paranoid voice was screaming. The man's grin grew wider. "Thought ssso. Q'sss gonna be along in a sssec. Let'sss go sssomewhere...quieter." With quickness that Grendze should have suspected, the undead grabbed him by the collar and dragged him around behind the bank.
---~---
Inzema was having fun scaring the Goblin. Spineless as it was, it was pretty easy, all he had to do was stand about, maybe juggle a knife or two, and look menacing, which really just consisted of smiling at the little green twerp. After the third time the Goblin tried to figure out what it would take to get him to go away, Qarosimae appeared in a flash of light, wrapped head to toe in her spell warded cloth armor, only her eyes visible behind her wire-framed glasses. She had dropped from a good ways up above and blinked to the ground, but the Goblin didn't know that. The sudden appearance of the mage, flaming sigils burning the air around her, elicited a squeal of terror from the goblin, which set Inzema to laughing.
Qarosimae pulled her pad from her belt and flipped through it until she found what she was looking for, Grendze's dossier. She scanned through it for a moment before looking back at the goblin. "You have been getting into trouble, haven't you, Grendze? Wearing a tabard, then defying an inquisitor by wearing it again. Tsk." Behind Qarosimae, Inzema began munching noisily on a hand he had pulled from one of the many pockets in his armor, crunching bones with as much effort as he tore flesh. Each crunch caused Grendze to spasm, the mental image of Inzema munching on his bones almost more than he could bear.
"Look, I'm sorry! It won't happen again! Just let me go and I swear I'll do whatever you want. Do you need anything? I can get what you need. I might already have what you need. What do you need?" Grendze's begging was interrupted by another squeak of terror when flames manifested around Qarosimae's hands. Behind her mask, she smiled and the flames went away. "Good, I have your attention now," she said calmly, the gem that served as her right eye glowing brighter. "We will see if you are worthy to remain Grim. We will have a special sort of inquisition for you, as you were once mentored, and are no longer. Bring me the name of Cristok's killer. Dismissed."
Qarosimae's command was all it took to send Grendze running, stumbling over his own feet in his hurry to get away from the mage and the undead, and he didn't stop running until he reached The Drag again. Back behind the Valley of Honor bank, Inzema cackled, clearly amused by the goblin's antics. Once his laughter died out, he stuffed the half eaten hand back into his pocket and replaced it with his dice, tossing them skywards casually and catching them without looking. "Think he can find out?" he asked. Qarosimae shrugged, her eye watching the crowds mill through the valley. "Maybe. If he cannot, I will have no use for him." Inzema nodded, casting the dice skyward one more time, this time letting them hit the ground. The bones bounced, landing with a pair of skulls facing skyward on one and five on the second. He hissed and gathered up his dice before Qarosimae saw the results, stuffing them back into his pocket. "Whatever happensss, it'sss gonna be bad juju. I'mma take off. Gonna go check on my project. You have fun with yoursss." The undead vanished as if he had never been there, leaving Qarosimae by herself with her thoughts.
"I caught the minion Grendze wearin' dis twice...After I ordered its removal. I will make a note in the guild hall regarding my talk with him. -Anaie"
The note combusted, the ashes whisked away by an arcane touch into the fireplace. Qarosimae's right ear twitched. She looked up at Berk, who was half-grinning at Inzema, leaning on the back of Qarosimae's chair. "We gotsss a troublemaker, huh?" the undead said, his face, especially his mouth, spattered with blood fresh enough that it hadn't dried yet. He had likely stored a body somewhere in the Sanctum. Thrilling...
"Appears so. We should have a talk with him." Qarosimae pulled her robe tighter around her and stood, stretching her back and rolling her shoulders. "I will probably have to make a project of him. He may be able to determine something of Cristok's murder." "That ssso? Ya think I can't?" "I think any information you come up with will be tainted by the fact that you are a self-proclaimed madman with a taste for blood, and people would be unable to say with certainty if you had killed a Grim, because we know you will if you come up with something, purely for the sake of doing so." Inzema's grin did not slip, in fact it grew wider. His goggles clicked and whirred while he tapped the back of the chair with bony fingers. "Yeah, it'd be fun, but not worth the trouble."
Qarosimae rolled her good eye and waved a hand dismissively at him. "Find Grendze. I will be along shortly. I have to change." Inzema snapped to attention and saluted, a mockery of the salute of the Silvermoon guards. He vanished with a cackle like he was never there.
---~---
Grendze was pretty good at hiding. The tall folks paid less attention to him. That being said, it wasn't merely paranoia that kept giving him the feeling he was being watched. Grendze was walking towards the Valley of Wisdom through The Drag when he first sensed he was being watched, but the crowds of Orgrimmar prevented him from actually seeing if anyone actually was. It took too long and was too noticable for him to climb high enough to see above the others, and it was impossible to tell if someone was watching him by looking at their lower halves. To root out his follower, he took a sudden turn into the hallway to the Valley of Honor and watched. There, in the crowd, was a Grim tabard, moving purposely in his direction. Grendze cursed and weaved his way through the crowds with the ability only a Goblin rogue could hope to manage, dodging feet and hooves and all sorts of other legs.
When he stopped running, he was outside the bank. He ducked inside and hid in the shadows, crouching and waiting. The feeling of danger didn't diminish as the time went on, despite the coming and going of dozens of bank patrons with no sign of a Grim tabard. There shouldn't even have been a reason to fear the tabard, save that paranoid little voice that suddenly started screaming danger. Why...
"Oi, You're Grendze, yeah?"
The voice came from a man standing right in front of Grendze that definitely hadn't been there before, wrapped up in leather, with engineer's goggles over his eyes and a shark's grin, dozens of knives sheathed on his person and a Grim tabard on his chest. Grendze squeaked in surprise. "Ah, y-yes?" The paranoid voice was screaming. The man's grin grew wider. "Thought ssso. Q'sss gonna be along in a sssec. Let'sss go sssomewhere...quieter." With quickness that Grendze should have suspected, the undead grabbed him by the collar and dragged him around behind the bank.
---~---
Inzema was having fun scaring the Goblin. Spineless as it was, it was pretty easy, all he had to do was stand about, maybe juggle a knife or two, and look menacing, which really just consisted of smiling at the little green twerp. After the third time the Goblin tried to figure out what it would take to get him to go away, Qarosimae appeared in a flash of light, wrapped head to toe in her spell warded cloth armor, only her eyes visible behind her wire-framed glasses. She had dropped from a good ways up above and blinked to the ground, but the Goblin didn't know that. The sudden appearance of the mage, flaming sigils burning the air around her, elicited a squeal of terror from the goblin, which set Inzema to laughing.
Qarosimae pulled her pad from her belt and flipped through it until she found what she was looking for, Grendze's dossier. She scanned through it for a moment before looking back at the goblin. "You have been getting into trouble, haven't you, Grendze? Wearing a tabard, then defying an inquisitor by wearing it again. Tsk." Behind Qarosimae, Inzema began munching noisily on a hand he had pulled from one of the many pockets in his armor, crunching bones with as much effort as he tore flesh. Each crunch caused Grendze to spasm, the mental image of Inzema munching on his bones almost more than he could bear.
"Look, I'm sorry! It won't happen again! Just let me go and I swear I'll do whatever you want. Do you need anything? I can get what you need. I might already have what you need. What do you need?" Grendze's begging was interrupted by another squeak of terror when flames manifested around Qarosimae's hands. Behind her mask, she smiled and the flames went away. "Good, I have your attention now," she said calmly, the gem that served as her right eye glowing brighter. "We will see if you are worthy to remain Grim. We will have a special sort of inquisition for you, as you were once mentored, and are no longer. Bring me the name of Cristok's killer. Dismissed."
Qarosimae's command was all it took to send Grendze running, stumbling over his own feet in his hurry to get away from the mage and the undead, and he didn't stop running until he reached The Drag again. Back behind the Valley of Honor bank, Inzema cackled, clearly amused by the goblin's antics. Once his laughter died out, he stuffed the half eaten hand back into his pocket and replaced it with his dice, tossing them skywards casually and catching them without looking. "Think he can find out?" he asked. Qarosimae shrugged, her eye watching the crowds mill through the valley. "Maybe. If he cannot, I will have no use for him." Inzema nodded, casting the dice skyward one more time, this time letting them hit the ground. The bones bounced, landing with a pair of skulls facing skyward on one and five on the second. He hissed and gathered up his dice before Qarosimae saw the results, stuffing them back into his pocket. "Whatever happensss, it'sss gonna be bad juju. I'mma take off. Gonna go check on my project. You have fun with yoursss." The undead vanished as if he had never been there, leaving Qarosimae by herself with her thoughts.
"Perfection is my goal. Stand in my way if you dare."
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
Ashenfury sits on a stone outside of the Guild Hall where he and Cristok would often share a pipe. He had been in deep meditation for days, speaking with spirits in every corner of the Nether in search of his comrade. It seems Cristok may not have been able to get out of his latest trouble.
Talhren's room was usually filled with feathers and other fluff that accumulates when you spend as much time shape shifted as he did. Now the room was bare and clean. Cristok left a room full of memories and a goblin that he mentored. The goblin was unusually troublesome which reminded Ashenfury of Cristok in a small way. Okay, maybe not so small. That bird brain caused me more problems than... **Ashenfury shakes his head and clears the thoughts of Cristok from them**
The spirits can't find Cristok, but they were pretty clear in the fact that I should keep a close eye on the Goblin, Grendze.
Talhren's room was usually filled with feathers and other fluff that accumulates when you spend as much time shape shifted as he did. Now the room was bare and clean. Cristok left a room full of memories and a goblin that he mentored. The goblin was unusually troublesome which reminded Ashenfury of Cristok in a small way. Okay, maybe not so small. That bird brain caused me more problems than... **Ashenfury shakes his head and clears the thoughts of Cristok from them**
The spirits can't find Cristok, but they were pretty clear in the fact that I should keep a close eye on the Goblin, Grendze.
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
Grendze slinked off from the High Inquisitor hoping this time his skills didn't fail him in hiding from impending doom. These Grim would be the death of him. They wanted him to find Cristok's killer. Grendze was assuming THEY had done his old mentor in. The Gobo had been walking a balance with these creatures waiting and wondering what his lot would be.
The Deader had frightened the holy hell out of him. Our Gobo had been making quite a bit of money while wearing the tabbard he had scored from the Bluff Watchers. Cristok had made some speech about one thing or another but particularly the issue of the 'colors' was emphasized. The tabbard just had a few claw marks in it and a some blood. Lots of blood in fact. It was just the garmet a new to town Goblin could use to get in the circles he needed.
Grendze had jumped on the offer to work for the Grim upon arrival to Durotar. Cristok in particular among them was known for running tourneys and placing odds on the games. Unusual for a Tauren, nevermind a Druid. Grendze sought him out immdiatley and offered his services only to be enlisted in this...this...Mandate. 'I go looking for some employement and I end up getting a speech that reminds me of something bigger than myself' Grendze says to no one in particular as he walks the streets of Orgrimmar oblivious to the irony of the statement.
Grendze stops and sighs, for a rare moment forgeting his surroundings. 'Claw marks' he thinks.
'Find the killer' the High Inquisitor commands. Clearly there is something suspicious in the Druid's death but why Grendze? Why wouldn't the Grim put their best people on it? Maybe they had. Maybe they HADN'T! We're being set up! The voice in the goblin's head screamed paranoid thoughts but he squelched them. It was clear the powers that be weren't involved in Cristok's death. Or were they? If the High Inquisitor was asking him to look into his death then certainly they weren't to blame. Unless they didn't think Grendze would find out. But then why not just kill Grendze too and be done with it? If the higher ups wanted the Goblin to look into it he better make a good show. Might as well begin by asking other Grims what they knew of the Hand...
The Deader had frightened the holy hell out of him. Our Gobo had been making quite a bit of money while wearing the tabbard he had scored from the Bluff Watchers. Cristok had made some speech about one thing or another but particularly the issue of the 'colors' was emphasized. The tabbard just had a few claw marks in it and a some blood. Lots of blood in fact. It was just the garmet a new to town Goblin could use to get in the circles he needed.
Grendze had jumped on the offer to work for the Grim upon arrival to Durotar. Cristok in particular among them was known for running tourneys and placing odds on the games. Unusual for a Tauren, nevermind a Druid. Grendze sought him out immdiatley and offered his services only to be enlisted in this...this...Mandate. 'I go looking for some employement and I end up getting a speech that reminds me of something bigger than myself' Grendze says to no one in particular as he walks the streets of Orgrimmar oblivious to the irony of the statement.
Grendze stops and sighs, for a rare moment forgeting his surroundings. 'Claw marks' he thinks.
'Find the killer' the High Inquisitor commands. Clearly there is something suspicious in the Druid's death but why Grendze? Why wouldn't the Grim put their best people on it? Maybe they had. Maybe they HADN'T! We're being set up! The voice in the goblin's head screamed paranoid thoughts but he squelched them. It was clear the powers that be weren't involved in Cristok's death. Or were they? If the High Inquisitor was asking him to look into his death then certainly they weren't to blame. Unless they didn't think Grendze would find out. But then why not just kill Grendze too and be done with it? If the higher ups wanted the Goblin to look into it he better make a good show. Might as well begin by asking other Grims what they knew of the Hand...
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
Guduk strolled the streets of Orgrimmar in relative silence, his mind wandering as his gaze took in the sights of the Valley of Wisdom. So little attention was being paid on where he was going he hardly noticed the goblin in front of him.
"Hey There!"
Guduk paused in half stride, looking down at the goblin before he grunted and pulled his hoof back at step. "Ah, Hello, there"
"You must be the one They call 'The Wall' with all that metal ya got on ya."
Guduk bobed his head sagely "I am the one they call 'The Wall' "
Eyeing the goblin for a moment and having a few pleasant words exchanged, Guduk decided the little green figure was not about to ask for any coin. Though the next question caught him completely off guard, "What do you know of Cristok?"
Guduk grunted and felt the weight of his armor about him, his thoughts going back to the druid "Cristok? a fine member of the Grim, I fought many times at his side with him in the arena. He is missed."
"Arena's you say? hmm, lots of money in those goblin games, do you think he had any unpaid debts?"
Guduk snorted and narrowed his eyes "I would not know of Cristoks' debts, but he did not seem the type of have any..." "How about his personal games and tournaments? Anyone have any issues with those?"
Quick where these goblins questions, as was this little things pencil as it scribbled down notes "There where issues with a few of his rulings during the tournaments, but not anything I would consider worthy to kill over."
"Oh yah? anyone in particular you can think of that did not like Cristok's decisions?"
"Well I do remember this one.. " Guduk slowly responds but then frowns at the line of thinking this seemed to go. The goblin leans forward with the information just received "How about his time leading the Grim Assults? Did people not like his leadership?" "What about the boss guy, would he have anyone killed?" Guduk replied to each question with his opinion, straight and true.
"A fellow Grim would Not kill another. We have laws about that.. Though it has happened before." Guduk snorted and glanced about "If the leader wanted someone dead, it would happen, and it would be public."
The notepad snapped shut as the Goblin looks up at Guduk "Well thanks for your time."
Guduk bowed his head and the little goblin was gone as quick as the little one had appeared. Guduk frowned over the questions and continued his walk through the Valley, memories of Cristok at his side in the Arena fresh in his mind.
"Hey There!"
Guduk paused in half stride, looking down at the goblin before he grunted and pulled his hoof back at step. "Ah, Hello, there"
"You must be the one They call 'The Wall' with all that metal ya got on ya."
Guduk bobed his head sagely "I am the one they call 'The Wall' "
Eyeing the goblin for a moment and having a few pleasant words exchanged, Guduk decided the little green figure was not about to ask for any coin. Though the next question caught him completely off guard, "What do you know of Cristok?"
Guduk grunted and felt the weight of his armor about him, his thoughts going back to the druid "Cristok? a fine member of the Grim, I fought many times at his side with him in the arena. He is missed."
"Arena's you say? hmm, lots of money in those goblin games, do you think he had any unpaid debts?"
Guduk snorted and narrowed his eyes "I would not know of Cristoks' debts, but he did not seem the type of have any..." "How about his personal games and tournaments? Anyone have any issues with those?"
Quick where these goblins questions, as was this little things pencil as it scribbled down notes "There where issues with a few of his rulings during the tournaments, but not anything I would consider worthy to kill over."
"Oh yah? anyone in particular you can think of that did not like Cristok's decisions?"
"Well I do remember this one.. " Guduk slowly responds but then frowns at the line of thinking this seemed to go. The goblin leans forward with the information just received "How about his time leading the Grim Assults? Did people not like his leadership?" "What about the boss guy, would he have anyone killed?" Guduk replied to each question with his opinion, straight and true.
"A fellow Grim would Not kill another. We have laws about that.. Though it has happened before." Guduk snorted and glanced about "If the leader wanted someone dead, it would happen, and it would be public."
The notepad snapped shut as the Goblin looks up at Guduk "Well thanks for your time."
Guduk bowed his head and the little goblin was gone as quick as the little one had appeared. Guduk frowned over the questions and continued his walk through the Valley, memories of Cristok at his side in the Arena fresh in his mind.
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
Duranor, a reputed General and long time leader among the Grim, stode into the bar to meet the Goblin. The Forsaken held the letter Grendze had sent him and dropped it into the fire pit as he walked up. Giving the goblin an up and down the General proceded to note his battle readiness, perhaps out of sheer rote.
"Boots, bloodied...tabbard, not present. Blades, look good. Sharpened viciously."
The Goblin tried to stand as straight as possible. He had no military training but it seemed like Duranor could simply snap an order and Grendze would follow it. It made our tiny friend rather nervous, which was not unusual when he was in the presence of Grim. Especially Forsaken.
" At ease there. What did you want with me Minion?"
Grendze relaxed a bit and took out his notepad. Duranor breathed in some smoke from a Hookah and both of them relaxed into a long conversation about the past. Many years had gone by and the old warrior took some time in recalling much of use to the goblin. Grendze had listened and waited trying to find some motivation behind why Cristok was killed. Grendze went farther and farther back in the past, asking Duranor many questions. He got to a crucial meeting of Grim Bloodelves.
"I suppose I recall someone spying on that meeting."
Cristok had been there. A secret meeting of the bloodelves some years back. New politics of the Horde had dictated that the Bloodelves would be members of the Horde. There must have been resistance among the Grim. Distrust was rampant . Grendze squirmed as he realized how familiar this sounded. Trust is not easily earned among these zealots. The elves had a hard time assimilating due to their pride, Grendze thought. 'Our people are used to being slaves. Perhaps we'll fare better'
Cristok spied on that meeting and Duranor had caught him. There was a sundering and Cristok offered his hand to the Artificer. This was the begining of his rise in the Grim. Grendze scribbled furiously as these details emerged, almost etherally. Grendze would press the Forsaken General to recall more. 'He once called himself Genral' Durnor chuckled 'Abric put a right quick stop to that!' At times Grendze would have to go back and erase large portions of things that were irrelvant. A ship of Murlocs? Who -is- this guy? As the night went on the notepad filled and the Goblins eyes grew red with weariness.
Grendze thanked Duranor and paid the tab. After chasing off some riff raff that had gathered the two left. The Goblin thought long on the details he had recieved. Thinking more of the Horde and how his people may fare. He felt like the truth behind Cristok's death was a huge hole he was filling with spoonfulls of sand. The new reality of his people was also coming clear. He flipped his notepad to the front page where a long list of names appeared. He crossed out General Duranor's name and sighed.
"Boots, bloodied...tabbard, not present. Blades, look good. Sharpened viciously."
The Goblin tried to stand as straight as possible. He had no military training but it seemed like Duranor could simply snap an order and Grendze would follow it. It made our tiny friend rather nervous, which was not unusual when he was in the presence of Grim. Especially Forsaken.
" At ease there. What did you want with me Minion?"
Grendze relaxed a bit and took out his notepad. Duranor breathed in some smoke from a Hookah and both of them relaxed into a long conversation about the past. Many years had gone by and the old warrior took some time in recalling much of use to the goblin. Grendze had listened and waited trying to find some motivation behind why Cristok was killed. Grendze went farther and farther back in the past, asking Duranor many questions. He got to a crucial meeting of Grim Bloodelves.
"I suppose I recall someone spying on that meeting."
Cristok had been there. A secret meeting of the bloodelves some years back. New politics of the Horde had dictated that the Bloodelves would be members of the Horde. There must have been resistance among the Grim. Distrust was rampant . Grendze squirmed as he realized how familiar this sounded. Trust is not easily earned among these zealots. The elves had a hard time assimilating due to their pride, Grendze thought. 'Our people are used to being slaves. Perhaps we'll fare better'
Cristok spied on that meeting and Duranor had caught him. There was a sundering and Cristok offered his hand to the Artificer. This was the begining of his rise in the Grim. Grendze scribbled furiously as these details emerged, almost etherally. Grendze would press the Forsaken General to recall more. 'He once called himself Genral' Durnor chuckled 'Abric put a right quick stop to that!' At times Grendze would have to go back and erase large portions of things that were irrelvant. A ship of Murlocs? Who -is- this guy? As the night went on the notepad filled and the Goblins eyes grew red with weariness.
Grendze thanked Duranor and paid the tab. After chasing off some riff raff that had gathered the two left. The Goblin thought long on the details he had recieved. Thinking more of the Horde and how his people may fare. He felt like the truth behind Cristok's death was a huge hole he was filling with spoonfulls of sand. The new reality of his people was also coming clear. He flipped his notepad to the front page where a long list of names appeared. He crossed out General Duranor's name and sighed.
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
Grendze sat in the corner of the room, hidden in shadows and rocking very slightly on his heels. He watched Mohan the huge Tauren hunter and giant spider, Sikhet, on the other side of the chamber. Only the drip of some condensation falling into a puddle could be heard. The silence made Grendze all the more nervous as he anticipated the coming violence.
The two Grim soldiers were guarding the keep in the Warsong Gulch. The ever important banners of this holding were once again their charge. The enemy was fast approaching and the rest of the Grim were in the field already. The Battlemasters put great weight on these symbols and doled much honor on the Horde for care of them. Grendze cared nothing for honor and yet here he was...
'We protect this banner Goblin. If any steals it we are to kill them or slow them down until help arrives.'
Mohan seemed so calm. Like a statue he stood not even shifting from foot to foot as Grendze seemed to constantly do. More dissimilar two beings could not be. Grendze's miserable stature was as loathsome as the Tauren's was noble and proud. The rouge applied some cruel poisons to his small blade as he eyed the hunter. The Goblin was ready for the bloodshed. Mohan moves finally drawing his bow taut. With only a nod he indicates to Grendze were the enemy is coming from.
A warrior rushes into the room heading straight for the ward of the Grim. The banner was in his hands. He was followed by a fair priest and a paladin of the light. As Grendze punished the pious ones with his blades making them sick and weary Mohan pummeled the helpless warrior, filling him with arrows and pain. A little dust in the eyes would delay the menders. An exacting hit in the kidneys would render even the stoutest plate wearer useless for a time. As the warrior's blood made puddles on the ground Grendze would decide to help his Tauren compatriot. Taking a device off his belt and stepping into the shadows he appears next to the unfortunate banner carrier and explodes a smoke bomb obscuring everything from sight. This fog of war was the warrior's last stand as the Goblin finished him and he returned the banner, the symbol of victory, to its rightful place. The menders tried to flee but were cut down easily in their haste to retreat. Grendze imagined the Battlemasters smiling, wherever they were.
The two soldiers returned to their post. Guarding the keep. Silent again with not even the drip to be heard now. Grendze ventured a conversation as they waited.
'Heya Mohan why we fighting for these damn Warsong Outriders anyway' He hissed across the room 'Don't you Tauren have issue with the forest being mined this way?' He smiled to himself as he anticipated animating the statuesque Tauren with this controversy.
Mohan shrugs and says nothing.
'I mean it's understandable to me. I wouldn't call it traitorous to have doubts about certain policies' He chuckled nervously hoping to get something out of the creature to allay his new found fear of being called a traitor. ' See I ask cause maybe yer pal Cristok lost his cool like Cairne did. Maybe their fates were similar for a shared cause?'
'Perhaps' said the furry statue.
Grendze did not bother to take out his notepad. The Tauren seemed rather prickly about the recent politics of the Horde. There was certainly something to those operations but one wouldn't find sedition among the Grim. These ones were loyalists alright. Perhaps, Grendze thought, another Druid of the Grim may offer perspective. As he was thinking about this he noticed Mohan go limp and Siket's many eyes filled with as many enemies. Before he knew it the banner was gone and someone threw sand in his face! Blinded and disoriented Grendze suddenly fell victim to his own medicine as a rogue stabbed him and stunned him. He was sickened and dying and the banner was gone. Mohan unconscious and useless as the battle turned against the Grim. While Grendze sat dying on the floor of the keep, waiting and hoping for a mender to find him, he thought about his next move.
The two Grim soldiers were guarding the keep in the Warsong Gulch. The ever important banners of this holding were once again their charge. The enemy was fast approaching and the rest of the Grim were in the field already. The Battlemasters put great weight on these symbols and doled much honor on the Horde for care of them. Grendze cared nothing for honor and yet here he was...
'We protect this banner Goblin. If any steals it we are to kill them or slow them down until help arrives.'
Mohan seemed so calm. Like a statue he stood not even shifting from foot to foot as Grendze seemed to constantly do. More dissimilar two beings could not be. Grendze's miserable stature was as loathsome as the Tauren's was noble and proud. The rouge applied some cruel poisons to his small blade as he eyed the hunter. The Goblin was ready for the bloodshed. Mohan moves finally drawing his bow taut. With only a nod he indicates to Grendze were the enemy is coming from.
A warrior rushes into the room heading straight for the ward of the Grim. The banner was in his hands. He was followed by a fair priest and a paladin of the light. As Grendze punished the pious ones with his blades making them sick and weary Mohan pummeled the helpless warrior, filling him with arrows and pain. A little dust in the eyes would delay the menders. An exacting hit in the kidneys would render even the stoutest plate wearer useless for a time. As the warrior's blood made puddles on the ground Grendze would decide to help his Tauren compatriot. Taking a device off his belt and stepping into the shadows he appears next to the unfortunate banner carrier and explodes a smoke bomb obscuring everything from sight. This fog of war was the warrior's last stand as the Goblin finished him and he returned the banner, the symbol of victory, to its rightful place. The menders tried to flee but were cut down easily in their haste to retreat. Grendze imagined the Battlemasters smiling, wherever they were.
The two soldiers returned to their post. Guarding the keep. Silent again with not even the drip to be heard now. Grendze ventured a conversation as they waited.
'Heya Mohan why we fighting for these damn Warsong Outriders anyway' He hissed across the room 'Don't you Tauren have issue with the forest being mined this way?' He smiled to himself as he anticipated animating the statuesque Tauren with this controversy.
Mohan shrugs and says nothing.
'I mean it's understandable to me. I wouldn't call it traitorous to have doubts about certain policies' He chuckled nervously hoping to get something out of the creature to allay his new found fear of being called a traitor. ' See I ask cause maybe yer pal Cristok lost his cool like Cairne did. Maybe their fates were similar for a shared cause?'
'Perhaps' said the furry statue.
Grendze did not bother to take out his notepad. The Tauren seemed rather prickly about the recent politics of the Horde. There was certainly something to those operations but one wouldn't find sedition among the Grim. These ones were loyalists alright. Perhaps, Grendze thought, another Druid of the Grim may offer perspective. As he was thinking about this he noticed Mohan go limp and Siket's many eyes filled with as many enemies. Before he knew it the banner was gone and someone threw sand in his face! Blinded and disoriented Grendze suddenly fell victim to his own medicine as a rogue stabbed him and stunned him. He was sickened and dying and the banner was gone. Mohan unconscious and useless as the battle turned against the Grim. While Grendze sat dying on the floor of the keep, waiting and hoping for a mender to find him, he thought about his next move.
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
A small group of Grim were summoned to the Twilight Highlands by the Battlemasters of the Horde. The Grim force was but a small part of the routine assaults over the mountains. Grendze had found himself mixed up in the fight again due to his allegiance with the Grim. He was quite certain that the they would either be the death of him and all his people or the path to a final freedom. To prove his loyalty he would join in the fight of course. The Goblin was either a good soldier or a good slave and the Grim hardly distinguished between the two when it game to his race.
Grendze would sneak across the fields of battle, terrified of discovery, as chaos and violence unfolded around him. The Grim would scream orders yelling at him to do this or that. He would steel himself and charge into the fray for a time, throwing sand and knives while stabbing creatures in the back. Almost immediately after his first strikes he would fling himself into a bush or behind a nearby rock despite the amazing mending powers of his compatriots. He would trip a rushing Worgen then sap an unsuspecting Elf. He could blind even the stoutest Paladin of the Alliance and create havoc among the enemy menders making their efforts useless...for a time.
Time was never on Grendze's side though. Impending Doom was ever present. One bad situation followed another. Grendze found himself alone in the field...A Hunter's arrow pierced his armor, stinging his shoulder. Another into his gut filling him with the fire. Oh the Fire. As Grendze was pummeled and mangled, the attention of so many enemies now overwhelming him, he looked up and saw only one allied figure. It was Malebrignion, the priest. Artificer of the Grim. The Dreaded thing simply held out a hand to delay the goblins suffering. Another moment and the he would be freed, able to hide in the shadows again! The priest simply walked toward Grendze as he sent the remaining Alliance to the distance in terror, their minds flayed...
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Grendze knew a few things about this Artificer from his inquiries including where he haunted. In the Outland in the sanctuary city of Shattrath the rogue would sit after battle. He never shied away from strange cocktails so he braved the foreign bars looking for the same being he knew so well on the field of war. Whispers of an odd creature forsaken to death floated about and Grendze knew he would find his prey. As Malebrignion perused the menu at the Worlds End Tavern Grendze labored over how to approach him. If possible the goblin was even more fidgety than usual. Finally he makes his introduction with a formal bow and greeting. "Heyo there Artificer of the Grim! I am Grendze here. You know the Gobo you saved from death a hundred times?" The priest levels his head and stares at the goblin behind a cowl of darkness. No eyes could be seen and yet Grendze felt distinctly stared at. " Of course I know you minion. I am an Inquisitor of the Grim. What is it?"
It was known that Malebrignion was once the leader of the Grim. It was during his reign that Cristok ascended to rank. ' Aye I made Cristok the Hand and to a lesser degree he was a source of information' Grendze wanted to get a grasp on the nature of internal Grim order. They sat down and had drinks and the Gobo took out his soiled and beaten notepad. Loose sheets fell from it as he set it down and took out his pencil. 'You aren't the Boss man anymore though huh? Quite the fall from grace eh?' Grendze had gotten a bit relaxed and slipped what he thought was an insult. ' You continue to waste my time minion'
A creature of shadow and filth scurried out briefly from behind Malebrignion then hid under his robes. Slight movement under the table seemed ever present and Grendze suddenly appreciated that his feet didn't touch the ground. Grendze asked warily while trying to get an eye on the creature ' So uh I guess you never questioned the Druid's loyalty? I mean a Druid as the Hand of the Grim? Plenty to wonder about yea?' Brig plucks a rat from within his ribcage and drops it to the floor. Stephen dashes out from under his robes, snatches up the rat in its maw and ducks beneath the table. ' I questioned everything. One of my shadows thought him for certain traitorous. But she was a rash one in such judgments.'
'The Grim wouldn't secretly kill one of its own even if they were found a traitor right? I mean what's the point otherwise?'
'Indeed. In fact Cristok was one of the few given sanction to slay a fellow Grim. Izlude was very publicly removed from our order. It did not sit well with many.'
' So you don't think this was another sanctioned thing then right?' Grendze pressed the point trying to find out if he was safe from internal reprisals. He would always hedge his bet making sure no one thought him too loyal or not loyal enough to any one thing. 'I mean I have no devotion to the big guy! I'm just following orders trying to find things out ya know?! I mean Cristok...sheesh, he's the one that got me in this mess of a guil-I mean higher calling. Saving my people I think we are...truly.' Grendze eyed his drink as if it had betrayed him as Brig emitted a dry cough sound somewhat akin to laughter.
'Perhaps you will tell me where your investigation stands currently.' As Grendze revealed the meager details he had of the case and a lack of any suspects the Artificer got increasingly annoyed. It became clear that the goblin was simply making the rounds of Grim and not getting anywhere substantive. In his fury Malebrignion revealed to Grendze an awful visage of rage and power that sobered and impressed him to standing up right. 'WHY WAS THIS NOT BROUGHT TO MY ATTENTION SOONER YOU FOOL!' The Artificer rose above the crowd slightly as he yelled at Grendze. No one else in the bar seemed to notice the horror our Goblin was enduring. ' Anything you can do to help Artificer! Your wisdom and direction would be most followed of course!' Suddenly the bar was back to normal. The band could be heard again and the voices in Grendze's head telling him to flee subsided.
As Brig pulled a large scroll from a satchel of papers, Grendze stood tall in his chair trying to peer at the documents. He studied a series of schedules for several minutes, almost as if he'd forgotten the goblin. Grendze shifted from side to side wondering what to do, his eyes wide and brow furled. ' I will help you. Let us go over your details' The two went over suspects and notes. The crowd at the Worlds End Tavern grew. The din offered more privacy even if the Goblin had to yell. As the Tauren Chieftains began their raucous set Grendze began to realize that he must begin anew. The investigation would start at the basics and they must gather facts. The more he spoke with Brig, the more he realized he didn't know anything. Maybe he could pawn off the investigation. Maybe he was still being tested. All he knew for certain is that he'd be visiting Thunderbluff the next day at the Artificers bequest and that now he had two Inquisitors sending him about. The Goblin seemed even more dour and miserable than before at realizing this prospect.
Grendze would sneak across the fields of battle, terrified of discovery, as chaos and violence unfolded around him. The Grim would scream orders yelling at him to do this or that. He would steel himself and charge into the fray for a time, throwing sand and knives while stabbing creatures in the back. Almost immediately after his first strikes he would fling himself into a bush or behind a nearby rock despite the amazing mending powers of his compatriots. He would trip a rushing Worgen then sap an unsuspecting Elf. He could blind even the stoutest Paladin of the Alliance and create havoc among the enemy menders making their efforts useless...for a time.
Time was never on Grendze's side though. Impending Doom was ever present. One bad situation followed another. Grendze found himself alone in the field...A Hunter's arrow pierced his armor, stinging his shoulder. Another into his gut filling him with the fire. Oh the Fire. As Grendze was pummeled and mangled, the attention of so many enemies now overwhelming him, he looked up and saw only one allied figure. It was Malebrignion, the priest. Artificer of the Grim. The Dreaded thing simply held out a hand to delay the goblins suffering. Another moment and the he would be freed, able to hide in the shadows again! The priest simply walked toward Grendze as he sent the remaining Alliance to the distance in terror, their minds flayed...
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Grendze knew a few things about this Artificer from his inquiries including where he haunted. In the Outland in the sanctuary city of Shattrath the rogue would sit after battle. He never shied away from strange cocktails so he braved the foreign bars looking for the same being he knew so well on the field of war. Whispers of an odd creature forsaken to death floated about and Grendze knew he would find his prey. As Malebrignion perused the menu at the Worlds End Tavern Grendze labored over how to approach him. If possible the goblin was even more fidgety than usual. Finally he makes his introduction with a formal bow and greeting. "Heyo there Artificer of the Grim! I am Grendze here. You know the Gobo you saved from death a hundred times?" The priest levels his head and stares at the goblin behind a cowl of darkness. No eyes could be seen and yet Grendze felt distinctly stared at. " Of course I know you minion. I am an Inquisitor of the Grim. What is it?"
It was known that Malebrignion was once the leader of the Grim. It was during his reign that Cristok ascended to rank. ' Aye I made Cristok the Hand and to a lesser degree he was a source of information' Grendze wanted to get a grasp on the nature of internal Grim order. They sat down and had drinks and the Gobo took out his soiled and beaten notepad. Loose sheets fell from it as he set it down and took out his pencil. 'You aren't the Boss man anymore though huh? Quite the fall from grace eh?' Grendze had gotten a bit relaxed and slipped what he thought was an insult. ' You continue to waste my time minion'
A creature of shadow and filth scurried out briefly from behind Malebrignion then hid under his robes. Slight movement under the table seemed ever present and Grendze suddenly appreciated that his feet didn't touch the ground. Grendze asked warily while trying to get an eye on the creature ' So uh I guess you never questioned the Druid's loyalty? I mean a Druid as the Hand of the Grim? Plenty to wonder about yea?' Brig plucks a rat from within his ribcage and drops it to the floor. Stephen dashes out from under his robes, snatches up the rat in its maw and ducks beneath the table. ' I questioned everything. One of my shadows thought him for certain traitorous. But she was a rash one in such judgments.'
'The Grim wouldn't secretly kill one of its own even if they were found a traitor right? I mean what's the point otherwise?'
'Indeed. In fact Cristok was one of the few given sanction to slay a fellow Grim. Izlude was very publicly removed from our order. It did not sit well with many.'
' So you don't think this was another sanctioned thing then right?' Grendze pressed the point trying to find out if he was safe from internal reprisals. He would always hedge his bet making sure no one thought him too loyal or not loyal enough to any one thing. 'I mean I have no devotion to the big guy! I'm just following orders trying to find things out ya know?! I mean Cristok...sheesh, he's the one that got me in this mess of a guil-I mean higher calling. Saving my people I think we are...truly.' Grendze eyed his drink as if it had betrayed him as Brig emitted a dry cough sound somewhat akin to laughter.
'Perhaps you will tell me where your investigation stands currently.' As Grendze revealed the meager details he had of the case and a lack of any suspects the Artificer got increasingly annoyed. It became clear that the goblin was simply making the rounds of Grim and not getting anywhere substantive. In his fury Malebrignion revealed to Grendze an awful visage of rage and power that sobered and impressed him to standing up right. 'WHY WAS THIS NOT BROUGHT TO MY ATTENTION SOONER YOU FOOL!' The Artificer rose above the crowd slightly as he yelled at Grendze. No one else in the bar seemed to notice the horror our Goblin was enduring. ' Anything you can do to help Artificer! Your wisdom and direction would be most followed of course!' Suddenly the bar was back to normal. The band could be heard again and the voices in Grendze's head telling him to flee subsided.
As Brig pulled a large scroll from a satchel of papers, Grendze stood tall in his chair trying to peer at the documents. He studied a series of schedules for several minutes, almost as if he'd forgotten the goblin. Grendze shifted from side to side wondering what to do, his eyes wide and brow furled. ' I will help you. Let us go over your details' The two went over suspects and notes. The crowd at the Worlds End Tavern grew. The din offered more privacy even if the Goblin had to yell. As the Tauren Chieftains began their raucous set Grendze began to realize that he must begin anew. The investigation would start at the basics and they must gather facts. The more he spoke with Brig, the more he realized he didn't know anything. Maybe he could pawn off the investigation. Maybe he was still being tested. All he knew for certain is that he'd be visiting Thunderbluff the next day at the Artificers bequest and that now he had two Inquisitors sending him about. The Goblin seemed even more dour and miserable than before at realizing this prospect.
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
Sang'jai wondered if the search was worth it sometimes. Archaeology was a hobby, a puzzle to keep the mind exercised, and he enjoyed that aspect of it immensely. But the long travels criss-crossing the continents chasing clues to the locations of possible archaeological treasures wore on him at times.
The rain pounded down into his wings and splattered into his eyes. His feet, dangling behind, felt like icicles dripping in the wind. To make matters worse, he'd forgotten how dense the Feralas canopy was. He wouldn't be making it to Camp Mohache, his normal stop-over before it grew too dark, so with a grunt, he dipped a wing and headed towards Camp Ataya.
The tauren settlement was small and he located the tiny "inn" easily enough. The female named Adene took his money, though she eyed him for a bit before allowing him to stay. "No trouble from you, and there's just the rug and a blanket to offer for bedding. There's a fresh barrel of water there, and you'll find some bread made this morning in the basket on top of those crates there." She pointed to the barrel and then to the basket.
Sang'jai nodded at the woman and smiled pleasantly. "Many tanks, mon. Dis rain be makin' it hard fer travellin'. Ah appreciate da sheltah." Sang'jai's smile dissipated as she merely snorted at him and returned to her post at the front of the tent.
He'd met some innkeepers with less than pleasant dispositions, but it was unusual for tauren to be so unfriendly. He shrugged and mentally crossed off the settlement as a possible stop-over for future trips in the area. While he wasn't poor, he valued the money he had, and there were plenty of innkeepers who kept better accommodations with much cheerier attitudes. The tent was sturdy and dry though, so he pealed out of his soaked armor, grabbed a blanket, and stretched out on the rug.
Sounds of an active settlement mixed with the steady pour of rain on the tent canvas filled his ears as his brain sifted over the most recent events in his life. He'd been training hard to become a better fighter in his feline form, and thoughts of his recent forays into the molten front brought the memory of ash and sulfur to his nose. Being able to see his sister more frequently brought a smile to his lips.
He had nearly drifted off to sleep when a single word stood out from the voices of the villagers.
"...Grim..."
His ears immediately flared and shifted towards the voices.
"...troublemakers..."
Sang'jai slowed his breathing and willed all of the background noise to filter out, leaving just the sounds of the tauren. He zeroed in on one particular tauren's voice. "You shouldn't have let him stay here."
Adele's voice floated, barely loud enough for him to hear. "What was I supposed to do? He just wanted someplace to spend the night out of the rain."
A deeper voice spoke up. "We have our own problems just surviving here. We don't need to get involved in any Horde politics. I told that Cristok Grim to leave us out of his plans, and I thought that was the end of it."
"He hasn't said anything.."
"He will. Why else would he be here in this weather?" The first voice trailed off.
Sang'jai's ears strained to hear, but they had wandered further from the tent. He shifted into his cat form, and camouflaged himself into the shadows. He slipped out of the tent and followed the three tauren figures.
"Just wait till tomorrow. If he doesn't leave at dawn, then we can worry," Adele pleaded.
"Perhaps you are right. We can wait."
"Agreed. If he approaches us or tries to force us to join him, we get him to leave then. Until then, we let him stay," the one with the deeper voice said.
"Agreed, brother."
Sang'jai watched the trio break apart, and slipped back to the tent. He shifted back to troll and pretended to snore as Adele wandered back to check on him. The overheard conversation troubled him. What had Cristok done to make them distrustful of Grim, and what did that have to do with Horde politics? Maybe the little goblin Grendze could make something of this information. He slept, though not soundly, waking at every creak or slightest sound. Before the sun rose, he gathered his things and continued his journey south.
The rain pounded down into his wings and splattered into his eyes. His feet, dangling behind, felt like icicles dripping in the wind. To make matters worse, he'd forgotten how dense the Feralas canopy was. He wouldn't be making it to Camp Mohache, his normal stop-over before it grew too dark, so with a grunt, he dipped a wing and headed towards Camp Ataya.
The tauren settlement was small and he located the tiny "inn" easily enough. The female named Adene took his money, though she eyed him for a bit before allowing him to stay. "No trouble from you, and there's just the rug and a blanket to offer for bedding. There's a fresh barrel of water there, and you'll find some bread made this morning in the basket on top of those crates there." She pointed to the barrel and then to the basket.
Sang'jai nodded at the woman and smiled pleasantly. "Many tanks, mon. Dis rain be makin' it hard fer travellin'. Ah appreciate da sheltah." Sang'jai's smile dissipated as she merely snorted at him and returned to her post at the front of the tent.
He'd met some innkeepers with less than pleasant dispositions, but it was unusual for tauren to be so unfriendly. He shrugged and mentally crossed off the settlement as a possible stop-over for future trips in the area. While he wasn't poor, he valued the money he had, and there were plenty of innkeepers who kept better accommodations with much cheerier attitudes. The tent was sturdy and dry though, so he pealed out of his soaked armor, grabbed a blanket, and stretched out on the rug.
Sounds of an active settlement mixed with the steady pour of rain on the tent canvas filled his ears as his brain sifted over the most recent events in his life. He'd been training hard to become a better fighter in his feline form, and thoughts of his recent forays into the molten front brought the memory of ash and sulfur to his nose. Being able to see his sister more frequently brought a smile to his lips.
He had nearly drifted off to sleep when a single word stood out from the voices of the villagers.
"...Grim..."
His ears immediately flared and shifted towards the voices.
"...troublemakers..."
Sang'jai slowed his breathing and willed all of the background noise to filter out, leaving just the sounds of the tauren. He zeroed in on one particular tauren's voice. "You shouldn't have let him stay here."
Adele's voice floated, barely loud enough for him to hear. "What was I supposed to do? He just wanted someplace to spend the night out of the rain."
A deeper voice spoke up. "We have our own problems just surviving here. We don't need to get involved in any Horde politics. I told that Cristok Grim to leave us out of his plans, and I thought that was the end of it."
"He hasn't said anything.."
"He will. Why else would he be here in this weather?" The first voice trailed off.
Sang'jai's ears strained to hear, but they had wandered further from the tent. He shifted into his cat form, and camouflaged himself into the shadows. He slipped out of the tent and followed the three tauren figures.
"Just wait till tomorrow. If he doesn't leave at dawn, then we can worry," Adele pleaded.
"Perhaps you are right. We can wait."
"Agreed. If he approaches us or tries to force us to join him, we get him to leave then. Until then, we let him stay," the one with the deeper voice said.
"Agreed, brother."
Sang'jai watched the trio break apart, and slipped back to the tent. He shifted back to troll and pretended to snore as Adele wandered back to check on him. The overheard conversation troubled him. What had Cristok done to make them distrustful of Grim, and what did that have to do with Horde politics? Maybe the little goblin Grendze could make something of this information. He slept, though not soundly, waking at every creak or slightest sound. Before the sun rose, he gathered his things and continued his journey south.
WRA Grim: Duskheron
Re: Cristok's Conclusion: OPEN
Across Azeroth one could find the visage of a grinning Goblin and big thumbs up on every other rock, tree or wall. Some of the flyers, long detached from their original placement, crossed the roads like tumbleweed. Some simply flittered out of the overstuffed bags Grendze jammed all his propaganda in, littering his path as he went from outpost to outpost.
These elections were just what got the Gobo going. The fewer that knew about this new law forming a civil council the better. It was already being derided as useless and with no real power. But enough were recognizing the positions. And once Grendze got a hold on his position they would see. Already the levers of power seemed at his grasp.
The profit he could glean from the disparate colonies of the Horde while heeding their meager 'interests' was too much for Grendze to pass up. Perhaps they wouldn't yield overnight, but in the long run the middleman sees all the coin. Getting these Horde to actually vote was another thing all together. Most were apathetic to anything other than blood sport. He had to get his name out there, even if he was the only candidate so far. Grendze was nothing if not careful.
To that end, he decided to campaign in all the various colonies, not just the ones he thought he could win. Feralas was one of the last places he thought of and upon arriving decided to stay overnight.
"Ah the Grim return again...What is it this time?" says Greul the Innkeeper.
Grendze suddenly recalls the Troll Sangjay warning him about their weariness of Grim and the long dead Cristok. Grendze turns from smiling politician to reluctant investigator with a sigh of resignation. He instinctively grabs his notepad and flips it open. Its lately filled with campaign slogans and strategies rather than clues and testimony, so he flips through it a bit.
" Well in addition to a bed my man Im wondering what you know about a fellow Grim o mine who happened upon an accident and got himself killed. This Druid named Cristok, Hand of the Grim." Grendze gauges the Innkeepers reaction as he drops the name, to see if he betrays himself. Greul does no such thing and simply says " That was a long time ago. Perhaps Chief Thornhoof could be of more use."
Grendze flips his pad closed and smiles "Perfect! Why worry now about that which must come tomorrow! I understand you have ale yes?"
An uneasy sleep was ahead so Grendze drank himself numb. He eventually curled into a ball among his giant sacks of flyers, his snoring sagged face distinguished among the smiling thumbs up pictures.[align=][/align]
These elections were just what got the Gobo going. The fewer that knew about this new law forming a civil council the better. It was already being derided as useless and with no real power. But enough were recognizing the positions. And once Grendze got a hold on his position they would see. Already the levers of power seemed at his grasp.
The profit he could glean from the disparate colonies of the Horde while heeding their meager 'interests' was too much for Grendze to pass up. Perhaps they wouldn't yield overnight, but in the long run the middleman sees all the coin. Getting these Horde to actually vote was another thing all together. Most were apathetic to anything other than blood sport. He had to get his name out there, even if he was the only candidate so far. Grendze was nothing if not careful.
To that end, he decided to campaign in all the various colonies, not just the ones he thought he could win. Feralas was one of the last places he thought of and upon arriving decided to stay overnight.
"Ah the Grim return again...What is it this time?" says Greul the Innkeeper.
Grendze suddenly recalls the Troll Sangjay warning him about their weariness of Grim and the long dead Cristok. Grendze turns from smiling politician to reluctant investigator with a sigh of resignation. He instinctively grabs his notepad and flips it open. Its lately filled with campaign slogans and strategies rather than clues and testimony, so he flips through it a bit.
" Well in addition to a bed my man Im wondering what you know about a fellow Grim o mine who happened upon an accident and got himself killed. This Druid named Cristok, Hand of the Grim." Grendze gauges the Innkeepers reaction as he drops the name, to see if he betrays himself. Greul does no such thing and simply says " That was a long time ago. Perhaps Chief Thornhoof could be of more use."
Grendze flips his pad closed and smiles "Perfect! Why worry now about that which must come tomorrow! I understand you have ale yes?"
An uneasy sleep was ahead so Grendze drank himself numb. He eventually curled into a ball among his giant sacks of flyers, his snoring sagged face distinguished among the smiling thumbs up pictures.[align=][/align]