The Return [Brass & Zeeky]

[Brass]

The atmosphere inside the Wyvern's Tail was somber. Recent events were taking their toll - the destruction of Theramore, the breaking of the

Horde blockade that launched Warchief Garrosh further into his oppression, the preparations for war... everywhere, the air was thick with tension you could practically chew your way through. With all the new work, there was so little time to drink.

Bazzil Brasspair sat in the corner of the near empty Tavern. It was late at night, the table full of Tankards. Some full, others empty. There were plenty, but never enough to wash out that fire eating away at him for months now.

It was, without a doubt, the worst time to come back to Orgrimmar. Last month, he decided to take a homesick trip back to Booty Bay. With things being slow lately since Deathwing's death, it made sense - might even help him quell things a bit within. But it didn't. If anything, it'd made it worse.

Life went on in the ol' Bay, but it wasn't the same. Same business, different faces. Sure, the Baron was still the Baron - complete with meat-shields. But other than that? A dock was just a dock. Job was just a job. It wasn't the place that'd been changed, at this point, he knew it was him. It'd never be the same.

Tekk didn't help. She'd decided halfway through his trip to come visit him down there. Then she snapped. Though Brass had never been there, he guessed Stranglethorne had more in common with the lost Goblin homeland than he knew. The jungle had an effect on her.

Her usual quirkiness manifested as bipolar outbursts. One day it was tears, next day it'd be shouting. Next it'd be a looming, quiet depression. Before long, she'd be picking with curiosity at some likely deadly jungle plant like the Tekk he knew. Then boom, back to the tears again. Now that things were slower, she was obviously coming to terms with everything since Kezan in her own way, which just so happened to be like a crazy. This whole trip was snapping her out of her safety-blanket childish state often enough, which was a good thing, but the psycho swings were getting a bit tough to work with. The dragon's share of his time was spent at the Salty Sailor getting smashed on frog-backs.

Without a doubt a part of her recent issues, Tekk was starting to become obsessed with the sea. She was absolutely convinced that other gobs might've escaped, her granny included. He didn't confirm or deny it, usually just nodding his head now and then - answering whichever questions about sailing he knew enough about. Questions were better than shouting or tears, after all.

Women. He downed another tankard. Since when did he care so much? He should be happy the kid was finally starting to get her teeth, even if she was going crazy and had the sealegs of a blacksmith's anvil.

He growled to himself. No amount of Frog Venom was going to put out the fire or dull the nagging thoughts, nor the doubts about his sanity in coming back here, and back to the Horde.

Gravy looked up from cleaning his cups at the noise, which meaty goblin just nodded back at him in a 'hey, 's alright' kind of manner. At least Gravy appreciated the Gobs as well as any in Orgrimmar. Most of these drinks were on the house for being a veteran of the fight against Deathwing. Mostly, he just thought Gravy was glad for having a customer.

Trolls, Gobs... Tauren. It was odd non-orcs these days were becoming thick as thieves. Chummy, even, at times. Who would've thunk? At least some good had come out of Garrosh's bullying tactics, which were getting worse by the day. While the Horde was groin deep in trouble with the Kor'kron jackbooting up the streets, it still was interesting how it managed to bring some races closer together than they likely would've ever been. Brass drank to that. Twice.

Since he'd been back in town, he'd met up with a few of his fellow Grimsters. Bryii, in particular, had been interested in hearing about how the trip had gone. He liked the Elf fine, and was glad to see her unharmed by the many battles the Grim fights for the Horde.

He paused on that thought again. Technically, he couldn't escape that - no matter what - he was Horde now. While he found a great deal of peace and camaraderie in being a member of the Grim, what it was to be Horde was questionable to him at this point. It was something that bothered him more than a little. Part of the reason he was in here this night was because of what the Horde was doing. He'd purposefully avoided being part of Garrosh's recent atrocities by showing up late. Something the Kor'kron would likely punish him for if they ever caught onto him. That and a lot of other things, frankly. Fortunately, Goblins are pretty good at being unnoticed. To an Orc, to anyone really, all gobs pretty much look alike until they open their mouths. He drank. He drank a lot. Mostly to keep his mouth shut, if not to just silence his thoughts.

Somewhere around his tenth, maybe twelfth, he ran out of Tankards. Through the haze, he noticed a figure entering the bar. His hand moved to his shield.

Brass thought he might've hallucenated it. That some footstool had miraculously sprung to life and started sauntering up to his table - maybe it was dragged by that huge dog over there.

Then it dawned on him who his new company was.

"Mind if I join you here... sonny?"

Brass rubbed his eyes. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. The absolute last. But like they always say back home, 'when it rains, it pours...'

"Uh... yeah. Sure. Whatevah, Pah. Sit."

--------------

Zeeky 'One-Piece' H-Bomb, veteran goblin sapper of the Second War and former Overseer of KORE Enterprises regarded him thoughtfully as he worked out seating. The goblin had to boost himself up on the stool by sitting up on, of all things, his Gun. The whole thing looked as dangerous as it did absurd, but apparently, Zeek was used to doing this.

At only about two and a half feet tall, Zeek was an oddity among gobs for his shortness. Such a trifling matter didn't hinder his father much. He was possessed of a stubborn streak larger than the maelstrom itself and a wicked ingenuity to match. Toss in the 'give-no-shits' attitude of defying death for so many odd years, and one guesses you get a gob who finds a gun a convenient seat. Fel... he probably used a satchel charge for a pillow.

"Waddyah want?"

His last conversation with his father had been less than pleasant and his tone echoed that same stubborn sentiment. But there wasn't as much force in it as he expected. It had been many, many months ago.

His father had founded KORE Enterprises with the idea of helping his fellow refugees of Kezan thrive in the Horde that'd taken them in while crusading for dramatic change in the goblin way of life. He insisted that, thanks to the cataclysm, goblin kind could have a 'fresh start' and revolutionize the old ways. Sharing. Working together for common causes. Condeming capitalism. Abolishing Trade Princes. Those sorts of things that Goblins can't possibly take seriously.

Well, some did. Zeek did gather quite a few followers, if not particularly zealous ones. KORE became an officially recognized guild that, thanks to Tekk, he'd ended up working for. He even grew to appreciate some of its ideals, develop a new sense of pride in his race, and to admire the leadership of ol' One Piece. These were things new to him, part of the new big world outside of Booty Bay that he was starting to grow used to.

The later revelation that Zeek was his father did little to change things in that regard (though, to be sure, it added some extra angst). Where Zeek pleaded for change and alliance hating rhetoric, Brass ended up doing dirty work. Brass brought results for the goblin people where Zeek's ideals and counterintuitive motivations led to stagnation. It led to Brass being promoted quickly, of course. Too quickly, some argued. Later, they eventually came to blows about the goals of KORE and he'd challenged his father's decisions - especially in regard to bending to Horde policies and being ignorant of Goblin nature due to all the years Zeek spent with Orcs. He'd even called Zeek a 'Gnome', probably the ultimate insult, then quit abruptly - planning to help goblinkind some other way while staying true to goblin nature that Zeek just couldn't seem to grasp. Tekk ended up going with him, but pleaded with him to reconsider leaving. He didn't, though he did stay in contact with many members of KORE.

But he hadn't talked to his father after that. Not in these many, many months. And in that time, he'd seen a great deal. Many opinions had changed after seeing situations throughout Azeroth. Having fought for the Horde, seeing the Goblins treated as cannon fodder and peons - worked to the bone for war machines discarded like children's playthings. Questioning the value of the small fortune in gold he'd amassed while the world around him was heading for annihilation. The Kor'kron tightening their grip on anyone who speaks out. Goblin 'nature' was being exploited - figures like Gallywix pocketed fortunes off the backs of hard working, suffering gobs. He started to really grasp his father's motivations - even if he didn't agree with his methods.

"I want some company." Zeek said. His voice was weary and tired. Brass didn't turn him away.

"Doncha have KORE to keep company?" Brass said, with a hiccup. But his heart wasn't in it. Not with everything else biting at him like mosquitos.

"KORE is muzzled," Zeek said sullenly, "Kor'kron don't like Gobs speaking out, or gathering together in groups when not working them to death. Many prominent members have gone missing. The rest are keeping pretty tight lipped. Many have been taken and beaten pissless, or their family members have been."

"But not you, eh?" Brass nodded.

"Nope." He said, matter-of-factly, "Not me. I'm not afraid of them. If they don't like what I say out loud, I'll express things more impactfully."

He tapped his gun with a sappery grin, which turned grim, "But there's a catch to doin' that."

"What?" Brass asked, pulling at another Tankard - only to find it empty. It brought a grimmace. "Or I should mebbeh say, what'd stop you?"

"If I act out while in charge, they'll just punish gobs in KORE." Zeek growled. It was an odd sound coming out of him, being so small as he was - yet it was every bit as ferocious as the beast at the door, "They know I'm not afraid, but they know where my heart lies. I can survive just about anything, but I can't abide them hurtin' a bunch of innocent gobs because of me."

"Those bastards." Brass growled in return, "Sons of bitches."

"Worse yet, they've already shown what they're capable of when I spoke out about the loss of goblin lives and airships during the fiasco at Twilight Highlands. Again when I criticized Gallywix publicly. Apparently, he's kissing that ass pretty thoroughly." Zeek explained, "Got a visit from some Blackrocker bully with a severe attitude problem. He thinks he rattled me. He did the same to a handful of others in the Slums. Even Mida."

"What're you going to do about it?" Brass asked, incredulous. While Gallywix was the recognized leader of the Bilgewater Cartel - the Horde's Goblins - Mida Silvertongue was the favorite of the people. Even Zeek paid her heavy respect, and she stood beside their people in the slums while Gallywix fattened on a pile of gold somewhere in that pleasure palace of his.

"Only thing I can do, sonny. I have to leave KORE and let it go underground - our voices aren't being heard anymore anyway and real change can't happen for the Goblin people while they're oppressed by Garrosh's regime. If the 'kron think that KORE is disbanded, they'll think they've crushed us. Probably let up on some of the more innocent. Let down their guard a tad." Zeeky explained, "Meanwhile, I'll be able to do more than talk - for once."

Zeeky, so far as he knew, had been mostly relegated to being a mouthpiece in recent months due to politics. He was too important to the various movements active in Bilgewater Bay and Orgrimmar. He didn't doubt his father would welcome a chance to really get out there and do what he really did best.

"What can I do to help?" Brass said, earnestly.

"I'm going to need connections. Connections that are in high esteem with Garrosh yet aren't bothered to harbor someone like me." Zeek said, "You're a member of The Grim. Do you think they'd take me on?"

Brass blinked. "I don' see why they wouldn'. I mean... I'd have to ask around an' make sure. They have lots of paperwork an' things, but yeah - I'm confident they'd support you."

"I've heard a lot about them," Zeeky said, "They want to wipe out the blues. That's a sentiment that I can work pretty well with."

Brass nodded, "I trust them with my life. That's sayin' something."

It was Zeeky's turn to nod. "Still... none of this is easy. KORE was... is... more important to me than anything. If the Grim could help me to better protect the Goblin people, then that'll be worth everything. If they're serious about destroying the Alliance?"

"And they are." Brass interjected, "Trust me on that. I've fought along side them in many battlegrounds."

Zeeky nodded again, "Then I think we'll get along just fine."

He paused, "And... thanks."

Brass smiled. Maybe with the Grim, there was a chance that his father could really affect some of the changes he was hoping for - many changes that goblinkind really could achieve - and defy the Kor'kron oppression. Zeek would fight for the Grim with a savagery that would be appreciated. Between the lot of them, The Grim could give the Horde, Goblinkind and all, more purpose.

The burning let up for just a little bit, as father and son spoke candidly of recent events - triumphs and horrors. He felt hopeful.