World of Warcraft®

A crooked smile spread forth from Bragdus' massive mouth as he used a single tentacle to lift up a chess piece off the elaborate checkered board in front of him. The stone miniature depicted a goblin wearing a revealing dress with a curved pony tail and dumb grin on her face. While normally the sight of his former mistress would disgust the demon he nonetheless felt giddy at the prospect of being rid of Mormel permanently. His numerous eyes then scanned the rest of the pieces of the board, most of them being miniatures of people that were allies of Mormel in one form or the other.

As Bragdus slowly turned the chess piece of Mormel in front of him, admiring the attention to detail, he found himself in a rather reflective mood. So far everything in his latest plan had gone even better than he could imagine. Mormel's twin sister Siritha was doing exactly as he expected and the band of “heroes” that embarked on the rescue mission to Outland followed every breadcrumb he had left to the letter. Even their victory over his abyssal jailor and the freeing of Mormel was all expected. Now Bragdus just needed to slowly implement the rest of his plan so he could achieve his ultimate prize.

With an unceremonious thud Bragdus slammed the chess piece of Mormel down on the board and shifted his attention to a new one. This piece was in the back, occupying the spot normally reserved for the King. It was a miniature of a goblin woman with four pig tails and a rather irritated look on her face. With trepidation Bragdus reached out to lift up this piece but stopped himself short.

“My precious wall flower. Soon this purgatory of endlessly chasing you shall come to an end my dearest Kezrin.”

Considering his past mistakes Bragdus had no tolerance for failure this time. His original plan fell apart when he underestimated his adversaries and in the end foolishly attempted to use brute force to defeat them all at once. Then during his next attempt he had relied on speed, hoping to secure the information in Kezrin's mind before his enemies could intervene. Unfortunately they had mobilized incredibly quickly and once again he was thwarted just when victory was in his grasp. No. This time he would firmly stay behind the scenes, bide his time and gradually manipulate events in his favor.

“After all... in this game victory is achieved by removing one piece at a time.”

The feeling of someone watching Kezrin was very unnerving.

She didn’t even need to be looking in Olu’s direction to feel the tauren’s eyes upon her, watching her every move. Somehow the shaman had found out that Solendenus had offered to teach her to fight, and she had taken it upon herself to make sure Kezrin practiced daily in one of the Shield Bearers’ training rooms.

It was quite strange watching the tauren demonstrate a proper stance and technique, when Kezrin’s head only came up to Olu’s waist. The mace that felt large in her hands looked like a twig in Olu’s. In fact, the tauren was now lying on the floor so she’d be low enough to keep a proper eye on Kezrin’s footwork.

Researching memory in the morning, swinging maces in the evening. That was Kezrin’s new routine.

“You’re doing much better,” Olu remarked. “Your family never hired self defense instructors?”

“Nah. Why do that if we had guards?” Kezrin thwacked the pell again.

“Any sort of physical training?”

“Does dance instruction count?” She wagged the mace at Olu in warning. “I ain’t gonna dance for ya.”

“No, no, of course not. I will not ask you to dance.”

Kezrin had never gotten the knack of reading Tauren facial expressions enough to trust the look on Olu’s face.

There was a low, rumbling chuckle. “However, I would like to suggest a regiment of exercise consisting of specific steps and motions, best practiced with a partner…”

There was something to be said for how quickly a reposing tauren could dodge a thrown mace.

Zurom walks outside on his garrison inn feeling uncharacteristically cheerful for once. his romance with Ellanie making him take a lighter outlook on life. That however changes when he reaches his town hall and opens a certain letter. It read.

Ambassador Zurom,
We have played this game too long my good chap. I think it is time to remove
pieces from the board.

Bragdus.

Zurom reads the letter emotion drains from his face as he puts the letter away. He mutters to himself "Alright then Bragdus ... but," Zurom realizes there is little more than nothing he can do right now so tires to respond with a bluff, a minor threat. Zurom writes a note to return to Bragdus. It read.

Bragdus,
You and I seem to both fancy the game of chess. However I tend to play black. As such
you have the first move. Come after me all you want, I do not fear you.

Zurom Stormsong

“Hey pal, the beds are elsewhere, remember?”

As the voice calls out it takes a few moments for Rhazin to raise his head up and look around. Pushing aside the wall of mugs he finally notices one of the Bilgewater Innkeepers, Mixi, as the one talking to him while collecting a few of the cups. Glancing towards him she asks, “Ya gonna be ok there? If ya need to rest, it’ll be a few coins to rent the room.” Finally shaking himself out of his drink induced stupor Rhazin finally replies, “I’m fine, though heres for the trouble.” He places down a bag of coins to cover his drinks along with a fair tip as he gets up and stretches. Anyone watching him walk out would notice that it seems like that the goblin mercenary hasn’t slept well in some time and that part of his gear is stained with oil and other machine fluids to show that he’s been busy working at the local machine shops when not drowning himself in booze. While few of his old pals were happy to see him, some quickly learned to back off and not bother him about where Mormel was these days. The subject at times causing the poor goblin to go into a rage and slug whoever asked while holding back tears. While he was grateful to be back amongst Bilgewater goblins, the reason was still not a pleasant one.

He didn’t want to want to believe that witch Siritha when she came to him with evidence of his wife’s supposed actions both past and present, yet when she showed her hand it was like she was dealt a royal flush. While he had suspected something happened with Ditzy, his thoughts always went to the excuse that something was messing with Mormel's mind at the time. Yet looking at the art pads which Siritha claimed were done by Iceia it just made something ache inside. But that wasn’t the worst of it as when he went to search his home with the supposed ‘evil’ twin, he came to find the locks changed, most of his stuff in the trash, and several items that showed Mormel possibly cheating again, this time with another goblin gal named Qoinz who they only recently met. And to think his wife accused him of cheating several weeks ago no thanks to a few pictures someone sent her way. When Siritha suggested that he be the one to make the first move he almost accepted but stopped though inside his blood was boiling. Instead choosing to pack up all that he could find of his things and take his leave of Booty Bay all the way back to Bilgewater Harbor. Why back there, because he felt running all back to one of the Garrisons on Draenor would be too far.

Returning back to the present Rhazin walks around the streets of the town, trying to sort through the whole mess while keeping himself sane. His thoughts jumbled, drifting through several parts of his life even his recent time with Siritha, admitting in his head that he actually he enjoyed the night in some way though wishing it never happened at all. Thoughts even going to what he might be doing if he hadn’t ever met Mormel herself. Least then the only pain he may be feeling was the occasional burn from an explosion or a small bullet wound from jumping headfirst into trouble. Course then would he have made other friends such as Swizelle, Iceia, Brae, and though she may not admit it Kezrin? Honestly who knows as the past could not be changed and the future, least to him, was unknown.

“Look at yerself, possibly the biggest idiot and fool of any world you’ve been on.”

Rhazin scowls at his own image in the mirror as the words come out, quickly turning away as he holds himself back from punching the image since it would just end up hurting him. Instead he thinks back to what happened at the recent lounge which only made him feel worse as both rage and sadness welled up inside him. Luckily being in his old place no one was around to see this display though he almost wished someone would come that could fix all this. He even glances towards his rifle but stops as while blowing his brains out would stop the pain, it wouldn’t end all the troubles, especially for Mormel. Especially now that Trenetir in his attempt to help decided to give them a deadline to patch things up before enacting the ‘final’ clause of their contract, one that would end them both. Though he wouldn’t say it to his face that guy was lower than any gang boss or trade prince he ever met, only talking to them to save his part of the profits or that’s what Rhaz believed. Least he got the blood elf to extend the time to 72 hours instead of 48, not much time but still possibly enough to figure out a plan to make sure it doesn’t happen.

Turning fully towards a table he studies what he set there glancing at each item carefully. Going from left to right others would see a chest of gold, a unsigned contract offering his services to perform several favors to be named by Trenetir no matter the task to end the deal, a small pile of explosives along with a remote detonator, and finally his rifle spitfire which was recently fitted with a silencer. Looking at the options he says to himself, “Honestly hope it doesn’t have to go that far, I ain’t no assassin, not anymore.” Sure he accepted contacts from the army to take on the Iron Horde, including taking out a few members of the Blackfuse Company, but that’s what happens during war. What he was considering was nothing short of murder which while he could claim was defending himself, just didn’t feel right.

The only option not laid out on the table was trying to patch things up with Mormel before the deadline ended. But thinking back to last night and her words about not being bullied back into a relationship he agreed that it just wouldn’t be right to force her into something she currently hates. While it may have been her rising anger and the booze talking, he just couldn’t disagree that trying to force things wasn’t right. In fact after all that he wondered if he should really try to fix things between them, cause lately it seemed hopeless. Especially with how Siritha kept throwing fuel into the fire and doing things that confused him. He couldn’t help but admit to Mormel that he did enjoy the times but not that her twin was better than her. Cause there were things his current or ex-wife had that the other didn’t. While she did have her quirks including her temper, she was also fun, creative and someone he’s enjoyed being around. As he thinks on this he pulls out a familiar journal, turning quickly to more recent pages. One being his finished sketch of Mormel along with several pics of the last time they were happy together. Looking at the images he quickly pushes the book away and covers his eyes as tears start to stream out.

This lasts for several minutes before he once more looks into the mirror saying, “Yeah a titan sized idiot is what I am. But one that’s gonna make sure she’s least safe even if they don’t care.” Glancing once more to the table his eyes linger on Spitfire once again but quickly pulls them away, “And especially not by takin’ the cowards option.” Instead pulling out his suit and making sure it’s still presentable for when he finally goes to Silvermoon to meet with Ser Moradinel, this time to least make one thing right.