World of Warcraft®

I wasn’t in the market for a job. Truth was, most jobs weren’t in the market for me either, but the empty bottles crowding my desk like a pack of slinking, hungry wolves weren’t going away any time soon. I had one rule; one bottle would go when a fresh bottle came in. Mostly because there wasn’t any more space on my desk. There were other, more important things to care about. All of them started with a good, stiff drink.

The dame - and what a dame she was, a silhouette against the too-bright doorway betraying every curve she had - didn’t belong here. Not in my office, not in Old Town, definitely not in Stormwind. Native home to drugs, alcohol and way too many unknown, nameless floozies just looking for one last ride before the inevitable caught up with them, it was just fine by me. It meant only sad, desperate cases would come knocking on my door.

Not this lady though. She radiated the kind of light I usually expect from giant floating crystals, and when she turned her eyes on me, it felt like a new dawn breaking. So naturally, I offered her a drink. In retrospect, I shoulda shown her the door, preferably at the tip of a sword, but when you're staring down beauty's barrel, your options kinda dim. She took my drink, and then she took my future.

We made small talk for a few minutes, here and there, on this and that, you know, the usual. I asked if she was single, she told me about her dragons, I told her my rates, and she gave me a piece of paper with a percentage on it. Turns out the problem she wanted me to "solve" hadn't happened yet. My better nature told me this was a bad idea, one sure to end in tears, but the impending empty space between my bottles told me to go for it. I've never been great at good advice. I said "yes".

If nothing else, this was bound to be an interesting job. While I'd never been great, or good, or even decent about advice, I had solving problems down to an art. Right now, the painter in me needed to fill some empty space, and the clatter of golden coins onto my desk told me she was a very good patron indeed.

She didn't stick around for further problem-solving though; with a tip of her hat, and a shorter glance than I'd've liked, she was gone. Just a memory, a piece of paper, and impending tears. It was time to relocate to my second office - old Ollie's across town, the finest establishment ever to host a bunch of honest back-stabbers and crooks. Plus, I needed time to think.

Exactly why, and how was I going to rescue her? And just how much was I going to regret it?

Regretsss, yesss. We have had many over the yearsss, yesss. Losssing our keysss to the Megadoombot 5000, yesss. Relocating to Ollie'sss without checking on the neighborsss, yesss. Eating that "Myssstery Falafel at Honessst Achmed'sss Food Cart, yesss. Now, regretsss had come knocking, and they wouldn't take "No, leave usss, yesss!" for an anssswer, yesss.

The bottom of the bottle never sssmelled ssso good, yesss...

I got to Ollie's late in the afternoon, and just as she'd promised, there he sat. Cracking open bottle after bottle of something green and smoking, and pouring it down his gullet. His lack of flesh and gaping neck-holes did nothing to help the view either, all the alcohol he kept dumping in just flowed right back out again, leaving a sticky and faintly glowing sheen down the front of his pitted and battered armor.

This was the target. The mark. The trouble I had to "save" her glowing highness from.
The Maggot Lord, Abominus. This shambling horror was famous wherever tales of disgust and misery were told. If you felt something crawling up your spine in Azeroth, there was a better than even chance it had crawled up his too at some point. His reputation was nothing short of legendary, a whirlwind of steel and infectious fluids. He'd killed more of just about every species on Azeroth than any other single threat, and yet, nobody had assembled 10 to 25 stalwart heroes and tried to take him down for good.

Probably afraid they'd get some on themselves. Not that I could blame them - rumor had it, Abominus didn't wash out.

And my job was to see to it he kidnapped my client. So she could be saved. From him. Or not. Honestly, we'd finished the bottle during negotiations, so details were a little fuzzy. The only thing I knew was that this was becoming a worse and worse idea with every passing second, but cash was cash, so, carefully, and with no small amount of terror, I approached the table.....

“O-O wants a word with you, love.”

Old Ollie was a very discriminate man. You could pay your bar tab - oh, once in a moon - or you couldn’t. He was also a very friendly man. You knew, because he always had a few friends hanging around for those long evenings when someone needed a helping hand. At present, one of those helping hands gently drew me aside.

When was the last time I dropped in?

Abon sat in the corner of Ollie's doing inventory on the new spring collection of Abon fine cosmetics, scents, and household cleaners. She sighed. There was Souleater Sepia, Plainswander Periwinkle, Grim Maw Gray. She had so much fun that time she'd decorated all their mounts. They were so beautiful. Souleater was so astounded he could barely speak. So, she had just serenaded him with her guitar.

Good times.

Ah, the new Spring perfume Mae Mae May. Abon sniffed of it again. Heavenly. Absolutely heavenly.

What was Imperon Indigo still doing in the collection? She scratched it out. He had spurned her for the last time. Now it was his turn to be spurned. It was now....she'd work on that later. Besides, the girlfriend they had been building for him, lovely Candy Cotton, had run away with a dwarven guard. They had explained to her how attractive short men are. Not that danged short. Well, how much difference was there really? Oh, well.

"Ollie, do you have any cookies? I like cookies."

Ollie seemed preoccupied and didn't answer. Abon looked up from her inventory sheet.

A forsaken! Not just any forsaken. It was Miss High and Mighty Sepha Gentyl's husband Abominus. Abon didn't believe for a minute that ceremony wasn't finished. Sepha could play hard to get all she wanted, but this was ridiculous.

The Maggot Lord himself. Abon squeed like a little girl. Would he give her his autograph? She hoped so. She adored him. Loved him even. Well, what woman wouldn't? Oh my. She positively quivered with delight. Maybe he was looking for a new wife.

You know, that ceremony most definitely was not finished.

She waved at bachelor Abominus, dabbed on some Mae Mae May and thought Abon will.

The plate of Ollie's Famous Gnome Spare Rib and Oyster Sauce, and an order of Worgen Foo Young, plopped down in front of Abominus. The Maggot Lord eyesocketed the food, a tendril of drool dripping from his tri-part tongue as it dangled from the ruin of his lower face. Maggots readied bibs and forks.

"We did not order thisss Ollie, yesss."

The big human merely grunted, massive belly straining to break through the horrifically stained apron he wore at all times. He fingered a giant thumb back over his hirsute shoulder.

"Dat big boid ovah dere wanted fer youse ta eats. Da little toots in da rainbow clothes also sent ya sometin'. Youse sure yer not wanted again, er sumptin?"

"Not anymore than usssual, yesss."

Abominus dug in, shoveling the ample food into his ravenous maw, following it with gulps of Stranglethorn Jungle Juice. Most of the patrons averted their eyes, not wanting to projectile vomit.

He signaled to Hewt-thing and the She-gnomette to come over.

((OOC: OOPS.... I suppose shoulda made it clear, Plainswander's not supposed to be in this, I was just continuing a 3 person narrative something by request, heck, the Big Hoot doesn't know the first thing about detective work. But now that I am, well...*ahem*... ))

"Scuse me Ollie..uh, I'll settle up, I swears, you take Garrison Goods, yeah? Uh..just...look..."

I pointed to where Abominus was making increasingly urgent beckoning motions.

"I better find out what the deal is here, otherwise he's likely to get...agitated...y'all don't want him 'agitated' now do ya?"

I could tell from the sudden blanching of Ollie's fur that this was, indeed, not an outcome he was looking forward to. Unrelated, I hadn't know up until then that a Panda's fur could blanch. The things you learn.

**FLOOMPF**
I plopped down at the table across from the rancid pile of meat, and gave the stuff on the plate in front of it a dubious glance as well.

"Howdy Abominus. Y'all're in trouble agin, ain'tcha?....."

I let the pause grow ever more pregnant. In my experience, delivery always happens sooner than anyone expects. Especially when you have as many tiny tiny children as old Abominus there does.

Abon nearly fainted from joy. Abominus was crooking his finger at her. It could mean only two things. Either he was ready to get married...or he was her contact for the boss man. She'd been sitting in the corner taking inventory and watching like he told her. The dame was in trouble, and she was a looker. He was always a sucker for the lookers, but he paid well for information and Abon was good at getting it.

She sauntered over in her wedding dress, just in case, and said,

"Abra-abra-cadabra
I want to reach out and grab ya
Abra-abra-cadabra
Abracadabra

You make me hot, you make me sigh
You make me laugh, you make me cry"

Well, maybe the password was just Abra-Abra-Cadabra, but the rest sounded good.

She noticed he already had the package she sent, the custom made tuxedo, you know, just in case.

This better be the contact, the doll was in trouble and time was running out.