World of Warcraft®

((Or at least the attempt at it, details below.))

Haav's head head spun and ached, like the time a box of wrenches clunked his head back on Kezan while he put the finishing touches on a shredder that was just about to go out to a happy customer. Even after the years of sitting behind a desk, it was still familiar. He couldn't say the same for his surroundings. It was dark, damp, and almost lightless. Occasional dripping sounds echoed through the cave. Brushing himself off, he stood up and started in one direction, and ran into a wall in short order. Feeling with his hands, he traced himself in a half circle, until his claw wrapped around a cold steel bar, and then another, and another - evenly spaced - this was a prison.

He stumbled backwards. He couldn't remember anything. He had just gone to sleep in his office the night before. It didn't feel like any time at all had even passed. As thoughts continued to race through his mind, his breathing grew more rapid. Perhaps he was close enough to where the droplets were coming down, that at least could serve for water. He scrambled, starting to feel the ground for moisture when a woman's voice echoed through the cavern: "Ash falah no?"

Haav whirled around, two silver slits were visible, maybe fifteen feet away, but he ran into the bars.

"You played a dangerous game, Haav Brassbolt, but you're little more than a common criminal - guilty of murder, of desecration without cause, and as of this moment, under a sentence of death by life in the deep, dark hole that you now find yourself in."

"W-where are we!?" The goblin shouted as demandingly as he could. It won him no change of tone from the voice. "Home", she replied. "Unless, you're willing to cooperate."

Something flew into the cell and dropped onto the ground in front of him. Then the figure struck a match and tossed it beside the book before it could reveal her identity. "The symbol, on that book - what does it mean?"

The goblin lifted the match and studied the symbol. "That’s the mark of the Second Bilgewater bank of Azshara… what’s your interest in it.”

The match fizzled out – its comforting light receding into the darkness. The cold silver slits still stared at him. “I helped you…” the goblin eked out, his voice quivering. “Let me go.”
“These past few years have found me disbanding bands of pirates, thieves, and thugs, and I’ve gotten to be exceedingly efficient at it. Your Horde differs from them only in the respect that they pretend that they are a nation. I suppose that makes you a prisoner of war, and for you the war is over.”

The elf’s eyes vanished from Haav’s sight, but he could still hear the dragging of a cloak. “Stop! Don’t leave me here! Please… don’t leave me here! Please….”


OOC:

So a while back, the old Azure Crusade was mulling the idea of an ongoing RP event of this sort, only we would have been defending something. We were going to call it "Die Hard with a Glaive", but past references and joking, we never really got it off the ground.

The idea is this: Warden Raintree is annoyed with goblin financiers and their support of the war effort, and wants to hit them where it hurts. The lead-up to the eventual break-in and robbery will involve a few scavenger hunts, some information gathering, and a few belligerent acts. Everyone is certainly invited, and if you want to be involved, you need only contact me. I expect these events to be reasonably fluid and won't plan anything other than the next event to reflect that.

If you are Horde and would like to participate, (because I think we're getting close to the time where we can start thinking about RP-PVP) bug my bear, Sihung. Because at least the general information for upcoming developments will be posted here.

Finally, if you have any RP which involves these events, please post something up here! I'd like for this to be an overall realm story and not just one involving a few people.

((Two-part post incoming!))

It was a bright smoky day in Bilgewater Harbor as Milton Cogglesworth deigned to show up for work. His head was aching and felt like it was going to pop, his mouth tasted like wet horse, and there were three or four hours he couldn’t account for last night—so all evidence suggested it had been a great party.

Way back in the back of his throbbing brain, there was the nagging sense that he had forgotten something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember. He opted to ignore it; if it was important, it’d come up later. These things always came up later, and frankly, he’d never known “later” to mean “too late”—not where large amounts of money could be involved.

As soon as he set foot in the Second Bank of Bilgewater, Jacey came trotting up to him with the inevitable sheet of parchment clutched in her manicured hand. “Good morning, Mr. Cogglesworth,” she said in a voice that was louder and brisker than his skull could handle.

“Felfire, could you keep it down?” he groaned.

“Sorry, sir,” she said, her voice absolutely no different from before. “Just to remind you, sir, you have a lunch meeting with the Ratchet Beautification Committee…”

“Yeah, great.” He knew exactly what this would be: Steamwheedle goblins wanting money to buy more explosives, since, after all, explosions were the most beautiful things in the world.

“And then an afternoon tour for Commander Kromgar.”

“Bah, and then I’ll have to explain yet again why the Horde’s deposits aren’t here in full.” Cogglesworth put his fingers to his temples. “Which they wouldn’t be even if we hadn’t re-invested strategically in those Apexis crystals. He just doesn’t seem to get the concept of economics.”

“Probably. Oh, and your nine o’clock is here now.”

“What nine o’clock?”

“Selman Goldwind, that blood elf who has a number of investors he wants to swing our way?” Jacey said in an insistent tone. “I’ve been giving him coffee for half an hour now.”

Cogglesworth looked down at his pocketwatch and shuddered; he was already twenty minutes late! “Get me some coffee, too,” he snapped, “and an aspirin.” And he hustled into his office. “Lord Goldwind, I am so sorry I was delayed,” he began apologetically. “I’m Milton Cogglesworth, thrilled to meet you, absolutely thrilled.”

Goldwind looked at the hand extended to him without moving, and then up to meet Coggleworth’s eyes. Cogglesworth paused for a moment, and then eased himself into the chair behind his desk—

—only to find that it was one of the armchairs from the other side, the ones strategically cushioned to make their occupants sit lower than he did. He nearly cracked his chin on the edge of his desk, and struggled to right himself. Finally, he settled on half-crouching in the chair, just so that he could keep at eye level with his potential client.

Goldwind watched the bank manager’s acrobatics with his mouth curving down into a smirk. He sat straight and tall in the desk chair, his fingers steepled together, his left knee crossed over his right. He was dressed well, in rich fabrics that were fitted neatly to his fine-boned frame, and what little jewelry he wore was tasteful and understated.

“So, Lord Goldwind,” Cogglesworth began in Orcish, trying to fake good cheer.

Goldwind said something in Thalassian, and Cogglesworth shook his head. “I don’t speak that language, sorry,” he said.

“And I,” said Goldwind in accented Common, without turning a hair, “do not make a habit of speaking Orcish. Will Common suffice?”

“It’ll do fine, it’ll do fine,” Cogglesworth nodded. “Shoot, if you’d like to speak Thalassian, I’ll get an interpreter in here.”

“Unnecessary.” Goldwind continued to stare at Cogglesworth, and the goblin began to feel vaguely like he was on a dissecting tray.

((Part Two:))

“So. Um,” Cogglesworth fumbled—and just then, Jacey came banging into the office.

“Coffee and aspirin, Mr. Cogglesworth,” she said brightly and very loudly, and Cogglesworth winced.

“Thank you, Ms. Rattletrap,” Cogglesworth sighed.

Jacey went about setting out her delivery—in a much more brisk and cheerful way than usual. As the bank manager watched in disgust, she glanced several times at Goldwind. Goldwind gave her an inverted sort of smile at one point, and her cheeks darkened in a blush.

Jacey left at last, and Cogglesworth popped his aspirin and chased it with coffee. Goldwind watched with mild interest. “Headache today?”

“Meh, just stayed up too late last night.” Hopefully, the aftereffects of the flushbloom he’d enjoyed weren’t too apparent. “Well, Lord Goldwind, I’m sorry it’s taking so long to get to the point. What can we do for you?”

Goldwind smiled wanly. “Mr. Cogglesworth, I represent certain mining interests that have acquired a lease in Pandaria. Naturally, I cannot yet divulge which ones—but they have, being the early birds upon the worm, been quick enough to turn a tidy profit.”

Cogglesworth smiled skeptically. “Well, that does make it a little hard to confirm, not telling me the names of your clients. How can I know what kind of—”

But he got no farther in his question. With a graceful sweep of his hand, the blood elf laid out several gems on the desktop. They were little more than round pebbles, but Cogglesworth knew a good uncut stone when he saw one—and these were high-quality indeed.

Goldwind watched the goblin silently, with vague amusement. Cogglesworth swallowed hard against the drool that had risen into his mouth. “These are…very interesting,” Cogglesworth managed at last.

“Are they.” It was not precisely a question. Goldwind hoisted an eyebrow. “You may, of course, inspect them.”

Cogglesworth summoned his gemologist immediately, and the gemstones were confirmed to be excellent. This meant that it was time to impress Lord Goldwind so as to get the business of whoever had grubbed these stones out of the dirt of Pandaria.

The bank manager took Goldwind on a tour of the bank. Goldwind asked a lot of questions about security: how many personnel at all times, how many armed guards, the exact specifications of the main vault, operating hours, and so forth.

Cogglesworth, of course, had ready answers for everything. However, when he tried to hedge on more sensitive information, Goldwind would raise that eyebrow again and his questions would take a keener edge. At the end of the session, Cogglesworth was sure that Goldwind knew more about the bank’s security than he himself did.

But the blood elf seemed satisfied, and when he and Cogglesworth shook, he even smiled. “Well, I believe I shall tell my associates that doing business with you may be profitable after all.”

Cogglesworth’s heart leapt up, and he grinned stupidly. “Profitable for everyone, no doubt.”

“Yes, no doubt.” Goldwind nodded. “Well, now I’m for Ratchet, although I’ve no idea where I shall be thereafter. I shall be in touch.”

-----

While Cogglesworth was not willing to look a gift kodo in the mouth, Jacey Rattletrap was more cautious. Selman Goldwind left the bank, drawing his velvet cloak about him, and headed down the road to the wind rider’s station—totally unaware of the two goblins she’d hired this morning to tail him. There was something she just did not like about this man. He was too facile, too convenient, too curious about things his alleged business couldn’t fully justify.

But he was as good as his word; he paid a fare to Ratchet, and once there, took a room at one of the less tumbledown inns, one with second-floor accommodations that had windows. The two goblins sat down to wait and see if he ventured out again.

What they did not see, however, was what happened on the side of the inn that looked out on a blank cliff face. Those were the “cheap” rooms, although not much cheaper than the rooms with more of a view, and one of those rooms had been let to a human with a thin and lanky frame and a penchant for twiddling a coin between his fingers, and who had apparently slept all day.

This human, who had signed the register “Lyren Gray”, carefully lowered himself from his second-story window and down to the dry grass below, and then shouldered his knapsack and hustled out into the flow of people--merging in well before he came around front of the inn. He was quite sorry, quite sorry when he bumped into Jacey’s employees as he passed them.

Perhaps it was because his head was so far above theirs that they didn’t see how his eyes and ears were reddened a little, as if his face had been well-scrubbed...