World of Warcraft®

After the unfortunate Bairne Shaving Incident, and the Chasing and Shearing of the Young Bulls Disaster, the Elders of Thunder Bluff decided that Abominus needed to be reigned in. After a long gathering, and much angry words, it was decided that he be given a series of tasks, work to prove his commitment to be a good adoptive Shu'halo, or at least as good a one as a crazed, maggot riddled Forsaken could be. Through a narrow margin, the decision was made to not banish the insane Forsaken from Thunder Bluff. Instead, they came up with "Community Service", in a desperate attempt to instill some values into the maggot addled brain of the dead human.

A bit later, a disgruntled Abominus was seen moving through Thunder Bluff. He was wearing a floppy leather hat, dirty overalls, and big gloves, and pushing a wheelbarrow and shovel. The wheelbarrow was filled to overflowing with fresh kodo dung.

"How can they have ssso much in them, yesss?" Abominus ponders. A small group of maggots, armed with pushbrooms and wearing blue coveralls and straw hats, diligently followed behind him. Tauren going about their business stopped and stared at the sight, some guffawing and others shaking their heads. "And where will we put it all, yesss? The angry Bull-thing behind the Druid Tent sssaid he doesssn't need any, yesss. And, they don't want usss dumping it over the ssside of the bluffsss at random, yesss. Where will we put it all, yesss?"

Abominus was turned down by the Hunters Lodge, and even given more work there when he stopped. The Warrior's Lodge just laughed and waved him off. No Inn would take the dung. The Shaman all stood along the base of their bluff and turned Abominus away. The Forsaken in the cave under the Spirit Bluff only picked a few choice bits for themselves, but said no when Abominus started to dump the rest inside the cave. His own adopted clan, the Clawmane, had no lodge in the city. That left only one group he could turn to, one organization that could help in this task.

The Ishnu Por Ah!

They were always bleating about Earthmother this and Spirit that! The home of his Beloved Redearth would not turn him down! Abominus began to run loads of manure into their sweat lodge and Great Teepee, dumping them near the fires. "They will dry out here, and the Tauren-thingsss can make them into chipsss and logsss for fuel, and maybe for planting thingsss in, like mussshroomsss, or Quillboar, yesss! They will thank Abominusss when they are back from their tripsss to the firelandsss, yesss!" Cackling madly, the crazed Forsaken went about his work with renewed fervor.

Like an unstoppable avalanche of civic goodness, Abominus moved load after load of Kodo dung into the lodges. Thunder Bluff held it's breath...

Gentyl leaned against the tree, sipping cherry grog and casting every now and then to make it look like she was being productive.

"I saw something rather interesting," Voice said.

"How much is this going to cost me? I'm kind of broke."

"Yes, I already noticed." Voice chuckled. "Not much. It was worth a laugh to see it."

"All right. I assume you already picked my pocket anyway." Gentyl cast again and moved Traveler's muzzle out of the way so she could get more grog.

"I did, but only five gold. Just enough to keep me honest."

Gentyl snorted. "What's the news?"

"Abominus is doing community service. He's hauling kodo manure to the Ishnu tents."

"Why is that considered community service?'

"No idea. Just telling you what I saw."

Pia had several squires who needed to perform community service. Maybe they could clean out the stalls and donate the manure to a deserving...Imperon probably needed more manure.

Brenri received a glowing note from Brennock Endran, as per the communications set in place by Vanressa and her brother ever since they were separated by the lines of battle. The message was only a few words, describing Abominus' situation. Unable to contain herself, Brenri sent a booming belly laugh that echoed through the halls of Ironforge.

"Looks like, ah heh... looks like I dinnae have t'do anything about that lad at all. Th'wee beasties have shamed him far more than I or anyone else ever could, aye."

Letting the arcane note dissipate into the nether, Brenri pondered aloud what uses could be made of petrified dung, and set Timeus researching on the project.

The dung carrying was over. Now, he had been asked to repair tents, or add "Taurenish" designs to them. It was time to head to the Apothecarium and see about paint.

Abominus left on the zeppelin, thinking, "Passstelsss, yesss..."

The gnome came running into the newly-painted offices of the Reclamation in Darnassus, her bright eyes wide with excitement as her pink pigtails bounded in time to her bounces. "Gondorin!" she called. "Gondorin!"

Ragefang looked up from the paperwork he'd just received from a small pack of tauren who had accepted the Reclamation's overtures to help rebuild a village in Mulgore. It had taken considerable negotiations with the village to even allow a small pack of Alliance forces in to help, the problem exacerbated by Gondorin's ties to Acherus. But in the end, diplomacy had won out, which had pleased Ragefang greatly. He was rather fond of the tauren. "Yes, little one?" He put his pen down, grateful he'd thought to take his human form before settling in for the administrative work. The talons of his worgen shape made holding the pen properly rather difficult...

"In Thunder Bluff, Gondorin! In Thunder Bluff!" The gnome's high-pitched voice rattled out the words rapid-fire. "There's an undead moving massive amounts of feces! Droppin' 'em off in a set of tents in the city, one of those Horde groups."

Ragefang sighed, the patience in his voice evidence of a concerted effort. "Is Thunder Bluff requesting assistance with the removal of the dung? Was some massive tauren composting effort upset by Deathwing's arrival, and now they're buried in the stuff? How does this require the Reclamation's assistance?"

The gnome scrunched up her face in irritation, looking for all the world as though she'd just drunk some too-sour lemonade. "You're an apothecary, Gondorin." Her voice had slowed, but Ragefang could sense the energy waiting to burst out of her. "What other sorts of things do they use manure for?"

Ragefang couldn't think of what the gnome was getting at, so he merely shrugged his shoulders, his left eye twitching as the sudden urge to do horrifying violence washed over him.

"It's explosive, Gondorin," the gnome said patiently. "It can be used for bombs. And the undead transporting it... it was the leader of the Grim Maws."

Ragefang cocked his eyebrow in sudden contemplation. The tauren are peaceful in large part, he thought to himself. I don't even recall hearing much about Forsaken presence in their city at all. But the Grims' reputation precedes itself...

"Keep up your investigations," Ragefang said suddenly, putting down his quill as he grunted, the shift into his worgen form already beginning. "I want to know more. The tauren are good people, but if they're harboring an insane bomber's materials, this could be an issue."

He roared suddenly as the remainder of his transformation overtook him, the pain washing through him in shattering waves that receded with equal speed, leaving a large, black-furred worgen with chillingly blue glowing eyes standing before the gnome, who seemed largely unconcerned.

"I would hope the tauren aren't being duped, but war is war." He reached to the rack behind his desk, pulling out his twin blades. "Find out what you can, little one. We will be ready." Growling lightly, he stepped outside, and a sharp whistle was heard moments before the thunderous beating of black wings tore the tranquility of Darnassus asunder. Ragefang's black dragon, Baltharigus, had arrived. Moments later, the beating of the wings receded. Ragefang had flown off somewhere.

The gnome stood in the now-empty office, her face twisted in slight frustration. "I was just going to ask him if we could encourage them to compost instead of build bombs..." she said quietly.

((afk, loling forever))

Grimslaide sat leaning against a tent, watching the wretched little undead human wander past, pushing his wheelbarrow full of manure.

"Hopefully, he learns something from the decision the Elders have made", he thought to himself. "It's good to see him out of trouble for once."

A shadow falls across his face, and he looks up to see his guild mate looking down on him. "It's time. We have been called into service, against the return of Ragnaros. The portal stands ready for us."

Sighing, he stands, and slowly makes his way across the bluff, absently rubbing the bald spot on his flank, and silently cursing Abominus.

Part of Ninah's scholarship as an apprentice apothecary was manning the help desk. Mostly people came with questions about easy healing potions and what to do with particular kinds of troll mojo. If anyone asked anything complicated, or had a question about how to reverse the effects of a failed potion she was to immediately bring the question to the higher ups. Mostly it was really really boring. Extra boring. Super boring. But the money helped keep her in books and supplies, and Por Ah knows her family didn't have extra gold lying around and mostly she could read while she was there...

So, she was very excited to get a question about paint. It wasn't run of the mill, but it didn't seem so complicated that it was necessary to report it to her supervisor. She could make paint! In any color the maggot infested customer wanted! "Whatssss the paint for? yesssss?" she said in her best (although clearly affected undead accent) "Inssssside or outsssside? What ssssurfacsssessss? What colorssss? Yessssss?"

Abominus nodded to Ninah.

He answered, "Yesss."

Abominus waits for his answer.

Ninah tried not to look confused. That wasn't an answer was it? Maybe she should have referred him up the chain... Nevermind, she would just figure out what paint they had lying around and offer it to him. They could go from there. "Jusssst a ssssecond," she said brightly. "I'll check the sssstore room for that. Yesss."

The RAS store rooms were always over crowded with dried plants, bottles of potions, old equipment and rotting corpses. Walking through the dusty closets looking for something important always made Ninah feel like she had made it. Pushing a stack of Naga flippers out of the way to clear a path to the stores of peacebloom really brought home that she wasn't stuck on the Bluffs following the traditional protocols that everyone had used for hundreds of years. She was at the forefront of a revolution in biochemical knowledge. But right now, she needed paint. So she made her way to the maintenance section, scooped up the first several cans she saw, and hurried back out to the help desk.

"Is thisss the sssort of paint you're looking for sssir?" she asked placing the collection of cans on the counter. "We have ssssome of the sssign paint we use around the appothecarium." She held up cans to demonstrate. "We have ichor green, sssslime green, and glowing green. Good for any ssssurfacesss. We also have sssome wood paint usssed for Brill and that sssort of thing. There'ssss Sssilvanasss purple, aging gray, and gravemossss green. Or there'sss metal paint we use on the flesssh golemsss and equipment and ssssuch. I've got putrid green, death to the living purple, and pussss yellow. Do any of thessse help? We can make sssomething elssse if you have ssssomething elssse in mind? yessss?"

The Maggot Lord nodded to the eager She-Tauren, scooping up the paint cans she delivered from the Royal Apothecary Society's old storerooms. He placed them on Binky, his dragon, and watched as a swarm of maggots dressed in white overalls and wielding small paintbrushes descended upon them, churpling frantically as Binky settled her wings. A furious argument ensued in Maggotese over mixing techniques.

"Thessse will do very nicely, yesss. I wisssh to place an order for approximately 100 gallonssss of each type, yesss. I will need them sssoon, yesss."

Abominus watched as Ninah frantically wrote down his order, then climbed onto Binky and flew off.