Goblins

The corridor outside the Speedbarge's main power generator was unbearably hot and humid. The air was thick with moisture, and the walls were warm to the touch as Jizzy neared the generator room. Two gnomish techs walked quickly past him in the opposite direction, drenched in sweat and ashen-faced. Jizzy's grasp of Common wasn't perfect, but he thought he heard one of the gnomes say something about "Gnomeregan all over again."

“Hey Jizzy! We gotta problem!” 

A grizzled goblin, dark in shade and missing a sizable chunk of his right ear, looked up to see one of the junior maintenance techs waving at him from across the room. The kid appeared to have the main thermostat in pieces, with a nest of colored wires snaking out of the wall and small pile of burnt out fuses at his feet. 

((explicit rating for heavy swearing at points and some graphic violence))

Southern Barrens,

First Recon,

0 AC (after Cataclysm)

"MacFergus! Get that damn radio working again!"

Hamish chuckled as he fiddled with the squad's gnomish-built radio, turning dials and pressing buttons that he didn't realize understand. His CO wasn't really worried about not picking up any broadcasts that other units might send out. No, he was worried he was going to miss the end of the song he'd been listening to. Hell of a concept those Goblins came up with, the soldier thought as he finally smacked the radio and brought the Captain's song back on. He smirked for a moment and turned to the soldier beside him.

"Do you think we'll make it back to Stormwind Jed?"

“Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, 
A tale of a stupid trip 
that started with this dense blood elf, 
That deserved an oil dip. 

Continued From...

Like the insulation shearing off a rocket’s metal skin at re-entry, the face of the teahouse sloughed away as ash.  A monstrous head appeared, massive angular jaw opened wide, breathing flame. The old goblin’s laughter strangled to a stop, replaced only by the echoes of unbridled inferno.

“No, no!” El’Tacho cried, but grasped the hand of the teahouse matron, and pulled her between himself and the far wall.  He spread his back and shoulders to the fire and heat, tucked his head as if rounding a high-banked curve at maximum gees. The final parting breath of the monster seared across the protective hide of his driving suit, licked across his shining black helm.

     One Adalynn Foxtrot whistled to herself as she made her way towards the back gate of Ogrimmar this morning. Her always seemingly present satchel was slung carelessly over her shoulder, the strap coming across her chest, allowing her arms to stretch back behind her as she yawns. The mechanic has been asked by Hellscream to look over the Demolishers which were rolling out of Ogrimmar to be shipped. Various rumors had recently reached his ears, causing him to be furious. His orders had been precise, the pay -- She wasn't going to argue.

From where we left off...

gently drew away the lower face-plate. El’Tacho’s lips, a delicate bow like the curve of an Overpowered Chicken Splitter at full draw, smiled easily.  “This is enough for tea,” he said, in a voice between the whisper of a pneumatic tube and the growl of a dragster’s muffler.

The berobed female nodded and lead the famed race-winner to the open room.  Three Floro-Essence bulbs hummed steadily above the low table, casting a golden circle of light.  Shadows danced across the papered windows.  A figure sat comfortably at the far end of the table.  El’Tacho was guided to sit opposite, settled into place with tea served like a piston jiggled into position and oiled up.

The muscles in Heulwen’s face were beginning to tire.  Keeping them locked to maintain an expression of intense interest was starting to take a toll.  Her left eye twitched.

((WARNING: Spoilers after the break, do not click if you don't want to learn some of the intrigue behind poor old Wezil))

"They think if they skin a worgen while it's in wolf form it'll remove the curse."

"They sound like nutters."

"They kill'm in Stranglethorn, maybe it's dem goblins trying to make some gold."

No matter what the diva did, the salt of the sea was pervasive. Everything had happened so fast, going from good to awful, to cataclysmically awful, to a gold-damned Kal'dorei tragedy. Packed like a sardine in that hold on Gallywix's 'yacht of freedom', Dixie had clung to the remains of her glamorous lifestyle, her celebrity composure. Among the others who were duped, who were betrayed, and those who now planned their own escape routes without thinking to let another gob in the hold use it. There had been a few squabbles over the rights to escape plan alpha, beta, and even gamma on the second day in the hold, and that was when Dixie just stopped paying attention to the misery around her. It became a buzzing in her ear, a gnat that just couldn't get enough of her perfume.

This lady has had enough of these Steamwheedle types.  They haven't done much for me, and I've done enough for them, if ya ask me.  The world's gone to the Nether and all I need to know is...how can I profit?  Those Bilgewater guys are all refugees now, got their own place in Orgrimmar and everything, but I reckon they'll be needin' some assistance. 

Tucco flicks a match against her boot and lights a cigarette, still talking to no one in particular in the Ratchet Inn/Tavern.  Her fox, Josey, sits lazily beside her, occasionally nipping at any unfortunate stray lizard to crawl by.

 Plenty of money to be made runnin' errands, sellin' goods.  Yeah, I think Azshara might be the place to be right now.

Daraman gunned the engine to his new mechano-hog again and grinned at the sound.  He had waited so long for this day, and at long last he had one.  It had taken a lot of hard work, and a lot of help from a lot of friends, whom he would pay back in one way or another, but he finally had it.  He'd even taken a loan out from Tinksa, who had been generous enough to give a relatively reasonable interest rate.  Well, reasonable enough for a goblin, anyway.  He suspected it might have something to do with the fact that she insisted on riding around with him in the sidecar.  Still, he had enjoyed her company, listening to her laugh and giggle as he roared down Silvermoon's streets, putting the bike through it's paces as well as getting a feel for the machine.  He skidded to a stop at the fountain outside Murder Row, staring at the entrance to the club and the tree that had replaced the old one Liore had crashed his bike into.  Even now, with one of th

"You keep staring at me like that, gonna make me think yer hungry. I know you had a nice bit of rabbit earlier.

Don't wanna sleep? That's fine. Not like I'm ready ta, either. So let's talk. I'll tell you a story.

You remember yer mama, don't you? Course you do. Yer still just a pup. Me, it's been so long, it all blurs together. What I do remember, well, there ain't much of that left.

I remember trees."

After returning to the spire in a pool of blood and gore, Akiri spent the next few days in bed and refused to eat. The world had changed and dragons were to blame, of course. She had not expected those Goblins and Orcs to help the dragons in destroying the world; those damn greenskins.

She woke up in the middle of the night after having a nightmare of the forest burning down around her. She imagined herself back where she had killed the Goblins and felt a rush of joy in as the images of their deaths played out in her mind. When she opened her eyes, she was back in that place. The blood stained nearby structures and the road under her feet. It would still be a while before it all washed out.

"We all do bad things, what's important is that we know they're bad so we don't do them again, right?" the diminutive goblin said as she put a crossbow bolt through the eye of an advancing naga, killing it instantly.  It wasn't the response he'd expected, and he was so confused by the answer that he almost tripped over the body of another dead naga as his axe cleaved through another.  He stopped for a moment, corpses strewn around them to stare at the goblin.  Was she serious?  It was hard to tell as he had just met her earlier.  He had been on assignment for the Horde, this time to Mount Hyjal, when he had returned from the front lines for some rest and to replenish his resources.  It was there, in Orgrimmar, where he had first met her.  She had approached him and asked him for his help with some "problems" in Outland dealing with the Naga and wildlife that still lived in the Underbog.  Tired from fighting the Twilight Hammer Cult most of the

(( Past NPCs from old blogs are discussed and new alts make appearances.....and the plot struggles to get a mention  >.<  ))

I stood stark still in the middle of a desert, my eye transfixed on a fiery orb in the sky. It wasn’t the sun, of course, but far more ferocious. A deafening roar surrounded me. My feet suddenly felt water lapping at my toes, and rising quickly. I don’t move. The water rises, and swallows me as I stand like a stone under the waves. I finally look up, seeing  the water’s surface. It feels like miles away. I see someone swimming on the surface. Their body is lithe, muscular but still soft with supple and comforting feminine features. Her strokes are languid, and her chocolate colored hair flows behind her like an aura of earth. I reach up to her, but she is so far, I could grasp her entire form in the palm of my outstretched hand. My mouth opens, and I spoke to her tiredly.

Wezil's Words

Part 3: Old Dedder

Dat volcano was angrier by the hour and Kezan was startin' to panic.

I had secured a deal to get off the island, so I was feelin' pretty clever. In fact, we were leavin' in the mornin.

So, I celebrated with some Pistol-Whipped Murloc Stew and a coupla pints of Steamwheedle Lager.

The crowd was going nuts as the keening machinery echoed through the stadium. Dixie, perfectly done up and dressed to the nines, raised her hands over her head and applauded the forward bomber of the Bilgewater Buccanneers, Bax Leadspinner, when his tie-breaking field goal exploded through the goal posts. There was a faint flash of photographic light aimed her way, and she paused for their benefit, perfectly smiling. Lazros, hidden behind her gesture from the camera, glanced at the dancer. Her anniversary present sparkled marvelously between her collarbones as explosive flashes refracted off it's faceted ruby surface.

[ Read more of Dixie, the Pearl, and Kezan at martyrized.com! ]

Dixie rolled over and draped her arm across Lazros' slowly rising and falling chest. He was still fast asleep beside her, and despite that, she watched his rough face twist with a slumbering smile. She matched his smile with her unglossed lips, and leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek without waking him. The dancer, still sleep-ruffled and unmade from overnight, slipped from the silky powder blue sheets of the bed and plodded quietly past the set of gilded gold, mirrored privacy screens that seperated the elevated bed's dais from the common area of the loft. 

[ Read more of Dixie, the Pearl, and Kezan at martyrized.com! ]

The slow, pumping beat of the guitars and drums pulsed through the stage, vibrating the gigantic martini glass Dixie splished about in. Glittery water glistened like liquid diamonds off her smooth skin, and she swirled her bikini-bottom-clad rump 'round to kick a crystal-platform-heeled foot up in playful tease. The performer in her kept that broad, bright smile stretched wide over red-glossed lips, but the back of her mind was frantic.

[ Read more of Dixie, the Pearl, and Kezan at martyrized.com! ]

The girl was a total mess, even more than usual. She had not been sleeping or taking care of herself at all. Akiri was sitting dumbfounded in the middle of her room with drawings of the ley lines all around her forming a map of Azeroth that spanned all six sides of the room. The lines of the map glowed a bright blue and she sat on the nexus where Midivh had built his home. She had been dreaming of these lines and runes ever since her battle with Malygos and his flight. Now that she had gotten most of it out of her head and drawn it out, she felt better.

Her whole world had changed over the past few years. She had learned to speak a little common and now Orcish. She had been reunited with her sister and promptly lost her once again. She had learned to harness the arcane and sank further into her addiction. She had lived in three major cities and was a misfit in each one of them. Now the whole world had physically changed.

    I ride on my talbuk down the valley of Thousand Needles, smiling all the while. Soon I’d see Adalynn, and we’d be able to spend some time together. Just the two of us. No distractions. No arguing. I’ve been planning this outing for weeks, and I grin when I see a familiar brunette atop a heavy kodo, who is gnawing on a parched bush. I send the nimble-legged Hephaestion to trot around the engineer woman with a snicker.

Her world had become a blur of blues.

Her days had become azure skies and the glare of reflected snow.  Her nights, midnight and cobalt.  Her dreams haunted her with the memory of cerulean and indigo eyes, and her waking thoughts were the blues of swirling Dragonflight mage cloaks, the wings of blue dragons, the ice blue of the Oculus and Nexus. 

She had tracked.  She had killed.  She had questioned.  She had gained in confidence seemingly in contrast to the weight she lost.  She was gaunt and hungry, too focused to eat, hardly sleeping.

And it was cold.  She was so very, very cold.

The little silver bell on the door chimed prettily as Heulwen entered the shop. 

Nestled along the strip of Swindle Street is an emerald-painted facade with a deceptively elegant sign of neon scripting which reads, in lascivious pink, The Oyster's Pearl. This was more than innuendo to the denizens of Kezan. The Pearl, y'see, is the premiere gentlemen's club that boasts a variety of delicacies for the right price. And believe you me, everyone who gets in those carved double-doors behind that velvet rope, pays top coin for them.

[ Read more of Dixie, the Pearl, and Kezan at martyrized.com! ]

Kloreen seemed to have taken a liking to Lathaire, as she now insisted on him removing his right pauldron so she could sit on his shoulder while they travelled. The sharp eyes of the goblin woman seemed to sparkle as he lifted her to his shoulder, she got some joy from being able to be taller than the rest of her kind and said it was 'travelling in style'. From what the Death Knight gathered, she stopped just using him to give her an edge on a deal, now he was a bit more welcomed as another member of her party, not just two big swords with a ton of muscle behind them.

Kloreen tapped his horn as they walked down the docks towards Booty Bay. Lathaire promptly stopped. "Who were you, Lath?"

"Lathaire Stormsinger."

"I know that, stupid Lath! Who was Lathaire Stormsinger?"

"A strong warrior to Cairne Bloodhoof. A husband and a father." Lathaire set Kloreen down on the docks. "Then how'd you end up a Death Knight?"

In which the Master of the House departs forever, along with a good portion of his personal art collection.....