I have no idea how a snap of an abomination is supposed to help a worgen get unstuck, but I know better than to ask questions. Not only because people usually end up volunteering enough information on their own (and even if they don’t, it’s none of your damn business to begin with), but I’ve seen too many strange things. The one thing I do know is that keeping this little exercise as my own personal secret seems like the best idea for now. People – and rightfully so, I’ll admit – always assume the worst with me, and I really don’t want to try to explain to Malfos what the fel I’m up to …
In a densely wooded area, Nozz sits on her horse and quietly adjusts the settings on her Super Snapper FX.
Even here in the woods, away from the Forsaken settlements, Tirisfal smells like death.
The gnome thinks back to the earlier evening, recalling Time’s descriptive gestures of what he wanted, the way his hands indicated the looping entrails of the fleshy constructs. She realizes she made a mistake, that Time probably doesn’t want the thing dead. Maybe he’s tracking them down. Reasonable. If that’s the wrong conclusion, it’s easily fixed.
The ground begins to vibrate with heavy footsteps. An abomination that regularly patrols the road is drawing near, and it is singing something about flowers. It stoops over, a mountain of flesh flowing forward, temporarily sealing the gaping hole of its putrid abdominal cavity. Soil explodes as it wrenches free a chunk of earth, and somehow with meaty hands it salvages a dainty purple weed.
Quickly, Nozz finds several clumps of the same plant, and selects a few.
“PiCk tHe … fLoWeRS … tHe LitTLe BiTty … fLoWeRS …”
Nozz raises the Super Snapper FX. “For fel’s sake,” she mutters, as the abomination’s voice - which was never meant to be used in a song - echoes through the woods.
Snap! Snap snap!
The purple weeds are tucked under the saddle. Nozz leans forward, urging the horse forward. No doubt she’ll be spotted any moment; the fel green and yellow hooves make the pair stand out, but this brand of steed is so commonplace that no one will think to double check the owner until it’s too late.
“Turn around, you son of a trogg, let’s get a good view of what’s left of your innards …”
Snap!
“ … BiTty – AHHH! HoRseY!”
The mountain of flesh charges at Nozz in an impossible burst of speed.
“By the Shadow! Up! Up!”
The weeds are thrown away, while at the same time the Super Snapper goes mad. Snap! Snap! Snap!
“AWWW. mE waNT tO peT HoRseY!”
As the steed flies arrow-fast, high over Tirisfal, the Bulwark, and eventually aims its way back home, Nozz hopes at least one of the snaps is good …
The next morning at the Stormwind pumpkin farm:
A gnomish courier delivers a packet simply addressed to “Time and Mr. Farnesworth.” There is no return address, although the blue wax seal bears the markings of a cogwheel. If the right person is asked, it can be traced back to one Ambassador Nozz Tappet.
Inside the packet are several full color snaps and a neatly written letter.
Snap #1 - #4
High resolution images of an abomination in dark woods. It is comprised of many stitched together pieces, a mish-mash of various species and recycled parts. The flesh tone of the construct ranges from waxy grey to pus brown yellow to gangrenous green. An extra limb stitched and bolted haphazardly on its back holds a massive chunk of sharpened metal attached to a small tree trunk, all which clumsily serves as an axe. The two main limbs end in hands that are covered black with dirt. The abomination is wearing a strange contraption that looks like a … well, a sheep purse. Literally. Rope loops over its left shoulder, and on its right hip is a fluffy wooly blob. On close examination, its frozen black legs stick straight up in the air – an upside down sheep. Thankfully, it’s dead. The rope winds around its neck and hind legs, the corpse hollowed out so that it can be stuffed full of “flowers.”
Snap #5
This is most likely an unwanted close up of the construct’s abdominal cavity. Diseased loops of intestine filled to near bursting hang from the edges, oozing something most foul. Very large, fat maggots craw around the lip of the rotted opening. Something fat and wet glistens from inside, but unless one is trained to recognize the organ’s shape, it all looks the same. Unfortunately.
Snap #6
An out of place image. Purple weeds rain down on the abomination’s face, which is staring up with a dumb grin on its face. Meaty hands appear to grab at the snap-taker. The bottom left corner of the snap is blurred with fel green and yellow.
The letter reads:
I hope you find these suitable. If you are in need of more, and of different subjects, I can accommodate.
I really hope I wasn’t supposed to kill it, this one was rather cute.
~ N.
In a densely wooded area, Nozz sits on her horse and quietly adjusts the settings on her Super Snapper FX.
Even here in the woods, away from the Forsaken settlements, Tirisfal smells like death.
The gnome thinks back to the earlier evening, recalling Time’s descriptive gestures of what he wanted, the way his hands indicated the looping entrails of the fleshy constructs. She realizes she made a mistake, that Time probably doesn’t want the thing dead. Maybe he’s tracking them down. Reasonable. If that’s the wrong conclusion, it’s easily fixed.
The ground begins to vibrate with heavy footsteps. An abomination that regularly patrols the road is drawing near, and it is singing something about flowers. It stoops over, a mountain of flesh flowing forward, temporarily sealing the gaping hole of its putrid abdominal cavity. Soil explodes as it wrenches free a chunk of earth, and somehow with meaty hands it salvages a dainty purple weed.
Quickly, Nozz finds several clumps of the same plant, and selects a few.
“PiCk tHe … fLoWeRS … tHe LitTLe BiTty … fLoWeRS …”
Nozz raises the Super Snapper FX. “For fel’s sake,” she mutters, as the abomination’s voice - which was never meant to be used in a song - echoes through the woods.
Snap! Snap snap!
The purple weeds are tucked under the saddle. Nozz leans forward, urging the horse forward. No doubt she’ll be spotted any moment; the fel green and yellow hooves make the pair stand out, but this brand of steed is so commonplace that no one will think to double check the owner until it’s too late.
“Turn around, you son of a trogg, let’s get a good view of what’s left of your innards …”
Snap!
“ … BiTty – AHHH! HoRseY!”
The mountain of flesh charges at Nozz in an impossible burst of speed.
“By the Shadow! Up! Up!”
The weeds are thrown away, while at the same time the Super Snapper goes mad. Snap! Snap! Snap!
“AWWW. mE waNT tO peT HoRseY!”
As the steed flies arrow-fast, high over Tirisfal, the Bulwark, and eventually aims its way back home, Nozz hopes at least one of the snaps is good …
The next morning at the Stormwind pumpkin farm:
A gnomish courier delivers a packet simply addressed to “Time and Mr. Farnesworth.” There is no return address, although the blue wax seal bears the markings of a cogwheel. If the right person is asked, it can be traced back to one Ambassador Nozz Tappet.
Inside the packet are several full color snaps and a neatly written letter.
Snap #1 - #4
High resolution images of an abomination in dark woods. It is comprised of many stitched together pieces, a mish-mash of various species and recycled parts. The flesh tone of the construct ranges from waxy grey to pus brown yellow to gangrenous green. An extra limb stitched and bolted haphazardly on its back holds a massive chunk of sharpened metal attached to a small tree trunk, all which clumsily serves as an axe. The two main limbs end in hands that are covered black with dirt. The abomination is wearing a strange contraption that looks like a … well, a sheep purse. Literally. Rope loops over its left shoulder, and on its right hip is a fluffy wooly blob. On close examination, its frozen black legs stick straight up in the air – an upside down sheep. Thankfully, it’s dead. The rope winds around its neck and hind legs, the corpse hollowed out so that it can be stuffed full of “flowers.”
Snap #5
This is most likely an unwanted close up of the construct’s abdominal cavity. Diseased loops of intestine filled to near bursting hang from the edges, oozing something most foul. Very large, fat maggots craw around the lip of the rotted opening. Something fat and wet glistens from inside, but unless one is trained to recognize the organ’s shape, it all looks the same. Unfortunately.
Snap #6
An out of place image. Purple weeds rain down on the abomination’s face, which is staring up with a dumb grin on its face. Meaty hands appear to grab at the snap-taker. The bottom left corner of the snap is blurred with fel green and yellow.
The letter reads:
I hope you find these suitable. If you are in need of more, and of different subjects, I can accommodate.
I really hope I wasn’t supposed to kill it, this one was rather cute.
~ N.
