World of Warcraft®

Dar drummed her fingers on the table top and read the report again; her operative in Uldum was overdue with his check in, long overdue even for him.

She had given the Dwarf permission to check out a lead in the harbour town of Ratchet, a lead that apparently lead him from there to Gadgetzan and on into Uldum. His reports were always sketchy at the best of times, these latest had been no improvement. Something to do with a growing dissatisfaction within Durotor and the need to look into it. Gliinch hadn’t been more specific, just that he needed to follow his gut. Dar Thora frowned, she still didn’t quite understand what ones intestine’s had to do with investigative work, but she had learned to trust her people. If Gliinch felt there was something that needed to be pursued then she was inclined to let him. But Uldum was a dangerous place, and the dwarf wasn’t exactly the master of the subtle approach, she grinned grimly, not in the least, a Tauren in a china shop would be a more apt description.

She got up and crossed over to where a map on the wall showed the location of her people spread throughout Azeroth and beyond. The only person she had available in Kalimdor was Taarma, her lip twitched, well at least the overworked Hunter could look after herself. She returned to her desk and drafted up the orders, Taarma could at least tap into the network and see if there was any word regarding the wayward Paladin. Dar sealed the orders then called for Abbi, it was all she could do for now they were too few and there was too much going on to send anyone else.

Gliinch struggled to open his eyes; his head felt like there were a dozen hammers pounding on the inside of his skull. He had no idea how long he had been lying in the dark unconscious. As he struggled to lift his hands to his badly battered face; his fingers encountered dried blood caked thickly in his beard. He also found his wrists were bound together in a set of heavy irons attached to a length of strong chain. His maille armour had been stripped from him as well as his boots and most of his other clothing. He was lying in the dark on a bare wooden floor-‘more likely a deck by the feel of things’- he thought to himself. There was a definite movement that couldn’t be accounted for by his sorely abused noggin, and the ringing in his ears was being replaced by the creaking of a ships timbers.

He didn’t remember being taken, hadn’t seen anyone outside of the ‘group of gentle folk’ that would have given him pause. He shook his head as he worked himself into a sitting position and immediately regretted it.

“Damn it and thrice!” he glowered to himself, “Taken like a green ear’d Pledge ya silly Dwarf!” His head spun and he almost blacked out. He tried to summon the energy to clear his head and heal some of his hurts only to find himself strangely cut off and weak.
“Thas’ nay right.” Gliinchs’ brows furrowed, “Thas’ nice, give me the duce, and nye ev’n a beer ta clear me head!”

There was some kind of glamour or spell that was prohibiting him from accessing his abilities, the harder he tried the stronger it seemed to get. He tried a few more times with no more luck before nausea and exhaustion overtook him.

“Oie lad, next time we stick to the tour!”

Copper fingered the piece of paper in her hand and furrowed her brow, she had been dispatched to Booty Bay to search through the dwarf Gliinchs’ home for clues that might shed some light on what he had been up to. All she had found in the small one room apartment were some extra clothes, old armor, an odd collection consisting of small pieces of various ores and a book on the histories of the Sentinels.
She had been in the process of reporting her progress via hearthstone when this small slip of paper had fallen from the pages of the book she had been examining. Written on it in what had to be the dwarfs scrawl were what appeared to be a name, place and time;
Durasa, Ratchet, 8:30am
“Pah.” Well it was something maybe, she quickly focused her stone and conveyed her findings to her superior. She gave the small room one more quick inspection then departed; she had other duties to see to on this patrol.

Sand stuck to the wet broken blisters on Gliinch’s feet. His body aching with the strain as he and the others in his chain gang were marched across the desert towards the ruined towers in the distance. The thick bands of Fel iron around his neck, ankles and wrists chaffed terribly and the blood produced by the raw tortured flesh mixed with his sweat to form a sticky mass that attracted the fly’s and other winged vermin in the area. It had been two days since they had been marched off the ships, led up the steep cliffs and been caged.
Except for when they were dragged out to dig in the pits being excavated around the ruins the open cages were their home. Once a day they were fed, given the brown fluid that served to dull their wits and desire to do anything other than what they were told. They slept like animals huddled together, trying to avoid sleeping in their own filth. What sleep they managed to get was short and did little to provide any real rest.

Gliinch had tried twice to escape, both attempts hopeless failures. Between the restraints and the brown goop they were forcing him to drink he couldn’t cast or draw on any of the energies he needed to break free or strike out at his captors. The forced labour was leaving him drained physically and his body wasn’t healing as it should from its many hurts.

Once again they were being led down into the pits to dig and move stone. He had no idea what they were looking for, only that it had to be buried deep. The place gave him the absolute creeps; it was ancient and not built by the hands of any of the races he knew. In fact he doubted the builders even had hands he would have recognized as such. As they reached the bottom of the pit they were split up into smaller crews. He was paired with an older very worn out looking Orc, whom he was sure wouldn’t last much longer. Not the way they were being driven. There were a large variety of prisoners working the pits from both the Alliance and the Horde, all were treated exactly the same, driven until they could no longer work, then from what he understood, tossed off the cliffs to fall onto the rocks and surf far below.

Gliinch began toiling with his hands, tearing at the earth and stone, if rescue was coming it had better come soon or there would be no more card games with the lads.