World of Warcraft®

04/24/2012 03:43 PMPosted by Promethiusn

((We also accept mages, there's not enough shaman love to go around it seems))

(( Mages you say? Perhaps a sheepball team is in order? ))

((It's still called frogball, the balls are just fluffy, sheeplike frogs! but yes make a team! very good idea!!))

((I'll try and have a team assembled soon. Most of the craziness that's ICly happening for Drake is just about caught up. ^^; Ended up behind on RP because of so many crazy IRL things happening lately.))

((take your time Drakehide, I'm not totally sure i can field a team yet either...i'm working on it))

((Belpha, Pia will form a team for sure.))

((Awesomeness, Belpha and Gentyl! Still have no idea who's going to be on my team. I can alternate between Drakehide as a baseman and Mok'Rukh as a frogger, but still looking to fill the rest of the spots up. xD Will keep you guys apprised!))

((Let us know. It's Belpha's team. Pia is just supporting him. I guess you could say we are...athletic supporters. Or not.))

((Cool cool. I have a couple potential batters in mind I'm going to try approaching tonight. xD))

Spriggel stands on her tippie toes and posts the following poster (in beautiful hand script) at the top of the Hero's Call Board in New Tinkertown, so that no gnome can miss it:

__________________________________________________________________________
Wanted: Frogball players! For team Gnomeacide!

Yes, the triumfers of last years frogball league are looking to fill holes in our roster!
We are seeking able bodied, high octane, in-it-two-win-it, death-before-disaster
(you can almost hear Spriggel pause here to take a deep breath)
gnomes of no mercy to participate in the coming season.

Interesting parties can contact Spriggel Lockbolton by leaving a message for her
either in her mailbox or at your local AAMS office (head office in Caer Darrow,
branch offices in most capital cities).
___________________________________________________________________________

Spriggel takes a step back and inspects her handiwork, nods in satisfaction and heads home: she has some transplants she needs to prepare for their new home in Caer Darrow.

He stood back and admired the spectacle. A half dozen gnomes holding placards or wearing slogan-scrawled undershirts were marching around in circles in the Ironforge entrance to the Deeprun Tram in protest of Frogball.

"Keep your hex off me!" read one of the placards. "We'll show you!" was barely legible on one shirt. And that lovely chant (he wished that he had authored it), "Bat an eye, not a gnome!," echoed down the halls to the Military Ward and the Hall of the Explorers.

Content with how things were progressing and wanting to be well away before the Ironforge Watch (or whatever those drunken dwarfs were calling themselves) arrived, he threaded his way through the gathering spectators to catch the next tram to Stormwind City, preparing his thoughts for how to spread the message/discontent while remaining off the radar of the more well organized and entrenched Stormwind City Watch.

Belpha sighs as he reads his morning paper. He places the newspaper down next to his overturned coffee cup. Earlier that morning he had caught a gnome rogue trying to poison his coffee, and he hadn't dared to drink again. He begins to read the paper, specifically one article on the second page, the expression on his face twisting in frustration.

This morning, a large parade of gnomish protestors overtook the Tinkertown district. Local businesses were forced to close early as the protestors took to the streets. The dwarves of the Ironforge guard were not on the scene until late into the evening, and by then the peaceful protest had fallen into a series of riots encompassing all districts of Ironforge. The rioters continued late into the night, but as of this morning their steam had died down and the Deep-Run Tram had re-opened and peace had returned to Ironforge.

And in other news, Frogball Season is just around the corner, and the contest sure looks to be heating up this year. Don't forget to buy your tickets now, before they sell out!

Belpha finished reading the paper, he smirked at the last section, but otherwise an annoyed expression was plastered on his face. "Something must be done about these gnomes!" He said to no one in particular. He stood up and strode confidently out of the room, with some far-fetched scheme hatching in his head, no doubt.

The Dwarven District in Stormwind was a whole different ball of wax: Blocking the Tram would not be an effective disruption. Sitting in the District inn, the Golden Keg, Grimtote sipped his ale, swinging his feet in the air aggressively as he muddled his way through the dilemna in his head.

"Ale and lumber," the voice whispered in his ear.

He decided on a two prong approach. A cursed axle on a lumber truck scheduled Saturday to come in the south gate of the District would be the first prong. A sigil over the gate would trip the curse causing the axle to undo, dumping lumber across the gate and blocking the southern entance.

A tipped over cart (of ale barrels) in the eastern gate would keep a crowd of dwarves blocking that entrance to the district for days, or at least a couple of hours, maybe even start a good row, until the Stormwatch City Watch sorted things out. He would have to tip the cart himself, but was certain he could get away unnoticed. He would just have to avoid Stormwind (no great loss) for a week or two.

The printer should have the banners ready today, Friday, reading "Frogball, not Gnomeball! Hex yourselves, humans." A little climbing, and a simple curse trigger for releasing them, would have the two banners dropping over the blockades at both entrances.

He got up from the table, leaving no tip, heading out to set everything in place for Saturday morning.

He hit his head repeatedly against the wall in his little niche in the Forlorn Cavern, in anger and frustration, until the voice told him it was time to stop. Where were the supporters of anti-frogballism? Did they not realize that this kind of action was necessary and needed NOW?! in order to stop the infamous season before it started?!?!?

The lumber had spilled on time, the banners had dropped per spec, the cart . . . well, the cart had been a little delayed . . when did they put a goods inspector at the border to Westfall. Well hopefully the City guard wouldn't think to check with the border guard; the petty fiefdoms of the justice system could always be counted on to withhold information from its other branches. He grinned at the thought. And even if they asked, he'd given the first name he could think of, the ubiquitous last name of Cogsprockett, certain that they'd never be able to track himself down.

As he rolled under the banner that had already dropped above the east entrance to the Dwarven District, he readied his spell. For once, it went better than planned, only requiring four attempts, before the cart tipped, spilling the barrels of Dwarven Stout across the path. He yelled, "Free Stout!" and started running towards the lake, when, wouldn't you know it, an over-eager, not yet inebriated, dwarf, rounded the opposite corner. With a desperate sprint, he made it around the corner and jumped into the lake, diving deep, praying to the voices that the dwarf had not gotten a good look.

Later securely returned to his hideyhole, he scanned the evening paper's headlines. Where was the by-line on the catastropic closure of the Dwarven district? He flipped furiously through the pages. The Man was obviously keeping the people down, stiffling any mention of this important topic. Oh here! A small story about a minor inconvenience in the two entrances Friday morning. No mention of riots . . . not even a mention of the banners! That was when he started the head/wall banging.

Belpha laid a mountain of paperwork down on the railing in front of him, watching the Pia Interview from the second floor of the Pig and Whistle. He eyed the paperwork disdainfully and began to fill in the necessary information.He was knee-deep in paperwork when Meriste snuck up on him and asked him what he was up to. He hadn't noticed her approach and nearly hit the ceiling, he was so surprised. He'd explained the gnomish problem to her, and eventually he'd lost track of time in their idle chit-chat.

Belpha bolted out of the inn, giving Meriste a hurried explanation of what he was doing. He rushed through the streets of Old Town dodging pedestrians and gnomish protestors, they just wouldn't quit! He'd made it to News Offices, just in time to see the person in charge flip their sign to Closed. He'd missed the deadline, he had failed to stop the Gnomish Protest story from breaking the next morning. What a disaster!

Belpha woke up the next day with a heavy heart as he retrieved the newspaper from underneath his front door. He was remarkably surprised, the gnomish protest story was highly downplayed and hadn't even made the first page. Either Belpha just received uncharacteristic good luck or someone inside the news was a Frogball fan, he suspected the latter. Belpha smirked happily as he prepared for the day, it was surely going to be another busy one.

Chambliss drained the last of the keg of free stout into the eagerly-awaiting dwarf's mug and handed it to him with a hearty pat on the shoulder. "There ya go sir. You have a good afternoon!"

Now that the keg was dry, the small crowd that had gathered scattered slowly to find other amusement and Officer Rhomen took the opportunity to report in to the corporal. "Corporal. Kegs are now returned to cart and all is ready to go on once more."

"Hey, glad ta hear it Wall." Chambliss gave the big Draenei a wink. "Man, what a mess we almost had huh? Crazy!"

Rhomen, nodded. "What was situation when you arrived?"

"Wellll, ya know I got here a coupla minutes after the call came in, and it was pretty messed up. The cart was turned over, and there was this huge banner coverin' it and the kegs that'd fallen out. I heard some joker had yelled somethin' about there being free stout, but he didn't stick around and only a coupla people heard him. They came runnin' all right, but they weren't quite as thirsty when they showed up and only saw a coupla kegs that the banner hadn't fallen over and an angry driver with a shotgun." Chambliss laughed. "Anyway, I figured the best thing ta make everyone happy was ta buy one of the kegs myself and let them all have a drink while we tidied up." Chambliss grinned and thumped the now empty keg. "Calmed both the crowd and the driver right down!"

Rhomen and Chambliss walked back over to the accident site. Rhomen picked up one end of the banner and gave it a puzzled look. "Corporal, what is 'Frogball' and 'Gnomeball?'"

"Beats me, Wall." Chambliss shrugged. "I heard it was some game, although how ya throw frogs and gnomes around I don't have a clue. Well, throwin' maybe. Catchin' seems real difficult. Someone was excited enough ta hang this and another banner up for it though. Too bad for the guy he didn't fasten it better for all the wind we've been havin' today."

"This is sixth traffic accident call today," Rhomen observed.

"Yeah, 'bout average for a weekday. Ya missed the real excitin' one earlier when a chicken cart busted up with the animal control wagon. Chickens and dogs and cats everywhere, and not gettin' along too swell." Chambliss laughed. "Just another fun day in the big city, Wall!"

"You still planning on starting that frogball team?" Derscha asked.

The usually chipper Spriggel seemed dejected. "Probably not. There's been a lot of anti-frogballism going on. I couldn't even get one gnome to signup," she said with a sigh.

Derscha couldn't help but smile. "Oh, there are plenty of gnomes with an interest in the game. Don't know if they'd sign up, though." She giggled at the thought.

"Maybe if I joined another team and played a game, that might stir up some interest. You think?"

Derscha considered it a moment before cautiously advising, "I would be careful, though. There are those who are rather vehemently against it."

"I've heard." Spriggel didn't seem deterred at all by the thought. "Haven't run into any of those too-serious-clowns, but I'm keeping an eye out."

"They're secretive," Derscha giggled.

"A secret society?" Spriggel whispered unnecessarily, considering there wasn't anyone in sight. Although there were always the possibility of rogues. Never discount the possibility of rogues.

"Did I say secret society?" She added with a casual shrug, "If there were one, we'd hardly know about it."

"Yeah, that's the problem with them, you know. No one knows they are there; makes you wonder how they get or even if they have members." Spriggel giggled at the idea, then suddenly giggled even more. "Maybe the secret societies are only made of one person each!"

"Wouldn't be a 'society' then," Derscha observed, laughing with her. "Probably best not to worry about such silly things, eh?"

The other gnome nodded in agreement, busy catching her breath between laughs.

"Do be careful though... and if you get any gnomish supporters, let me know."

"I'll try, I'll be careful, and I'll let you know. I sure would like to get a all-gnome team. I think that would be a hoot," she said whistfully. "I was about to go the Recluse for dinner. Care to join me?"

Derscha politely declined. "No, I have some business to attend to. Something that just came up, actually." She tipped her hat in farewell.

Derscha hmmed thoughtfully as they parted ways. She'd have to keep an eye on her courier and her frogball activities... just to make sure nothing untoward happened, of course.