The old gnome looked at his disassembled Mechanostrider. Engine parts were strewn all over the workshop floor, and the spent fuel cell was hissing angrily on the workbench. Wigglebolt shook his head. “There is so much to replace…”
For the past week, the strider had been acting up, moving about much more slowly than ever before. When travelling through Ironforge, other gnomes had kept passing him. On foot.
Looking at the disaster that his workshop had become, the obvious solution was to buy a new Mechanostrider, but that idea went against every fiber of Wigglebolt’s being. If something wasn’t completely broken (and by that Wigglebolt meant “reduced to a smoldering lump of metal”), it could always be restored, transformed or improved upon. This particular project seemed to be more challenging than he had expected.
“I’m gonna need an extra hand,” muttered the gnome. Perhaps the High Tinker could assign him an apprentice? It seemed like a win-win for all: Wigglebolt could share his knowledge gained from years of experience, and the new apprentice would do the heavy lifting. And the running of errands. And disposing of contraptions that had reached critical stage and were about to explode. Those were all tasks meant for young legs.
Wigglebolt quickly wiped his hands on a rag and straightened out his vest. Hopefully, High Tinker Mekkatorque was in a giving mood.
* * * * * * *
Wigglebolt shuffled toward the High Tinker’s seat and cleared his throat. Before he could even begin to make his request, one of Mekkatorque’s advisors, Cog Captain Herk Winklespring, jumped up. “What do you want? Can’t you see the High Tinker is very busy?”
Mekkatorque turned around, slightly amused by his advisor’s sudden outburst. “It’s alright, maybe he has something relevant to say regarding our current situation.”
Wigglebolt approached the two gnomes, suddenly not so sure that this really was a good idea. “Thank you so kindly for your time. I, uh, wanted to see if it was possible to get an apprentice assigned to my shop. I know this is an unexpected request, but…”
The icy stare of Cog Captain Winklespring caused the old gnome’s voice to trail off. Mekkatorque was the first to break the silence.
“These are crucial times for us. Why would we assign extra resources to you?”
“Well, you see High Tinker, I’ve been in loyal service to you. For quite a number of years. As is, I am now getting a bit slower, and I sure could use a hand around the shop. It would be a great learning opportunity for a young Tinker.”
High Tinker Mekkatorque frowned. “What was your name again?”
“Uh, Wigglebolt, sir. Bodo van Wigglebolt at your service.”
“Wigglebolt? Related to Gearlock and Prudi Wigglebolt?”
“My parents, High Tinker.”
Mekkatorque nodded. “Your parents earned quite a reputation as outstanding Tinkers. Especially Prudi – she did much to improve the art of scope making for hunter rifles. Very valuable work.” Mekkatorque leaned forward, lowering his voice. “And how come I have never heard of you, Bodo van Wigglebolt?”
Wigglebolt swallowed. “I wouldn’t know, sir. My parents made quite the name for themselves in the crafting of weaponry. I myself enjoy making widgets and things that lessen the burden of everyday tasks.”
“Such as?” rumbled the High Tinker.
“Well, for instance, there is the mechano-lure. It replaces the need for catching worms before fishing.” Seeing that the High Tinker didn’t seem this worthy of a response, Wigglebolt wiped his forehead and continued. “There is also the portable campfire. No need to gather firewood. Though I admit, the food tastes a little gamey. Then I have…”
“Enough!” thundered the High Tinker. “That is quite enough. It appears you have spent your valuable time making toys. Toys that have no value whatsoever for our efforts to reclaim Gnomeregan. We cannot afford to assign any additional resources to someone like you. Your request for an apprentice is denied.”
Wigglebolt took a deep breath then bowed. “I... thank you for your time.”
Mekkatorque and his adviser immediately turned around and resumed their discussion without giving the old gnome another thought.
Wigglebolt trudged back to his shop, a step slower than usual.
For the past week, the strider had been acting up, moving about much more slowly than ever before. When travelling through Ironforge, other gnomes had kept passing him. On foot.
Looking at the disaster that his workshop had become, the obvious solution was to buy a new Mechanostrider, but that idea went against every fiber of Wigglebolt’s being. If something wasn’t completely broken (and by that Wigglebolt meant “reduced to a smoldering lump of metal”), it could always be restored, transformed or improved upon. This particular project seemed to be more challenging than he had expected.
“I’m gonna need an extra hand,” muttered the gnome. Perhaps the High Tinker could assign him an apprentice? It seemed like a win-win for all: Wigglebolt could share his knowledge gained from years of experience, and the new apprentice would do the heavy lifting. And the running of errands. And disposing of contraptions that had reached critical stage and were about to explode. Those were all tasks meant for young legs.
Wigglebolt quickly wiped his hands on a rag and straightened out his vest. Hopefully, High Tinker Mekkatorque was in a giving mood.
* * * * * * *
Wigglebolt shuffled toward the High Tinker’s seat and cleared his throat. Before he could even begin to make his request, one of Mekkatorque’s advisors, Cog Captain Herk Winklespring, jumped up. “What do you want? Can’t you see the High Tinker is very busy?”
Mekkatorque turned around, slightly amused by his advisor’s sudden outburst. “It’s alright, maybe he has something relevant to say regarding our current situation.”
Wigglebolt approached the two gnomes, suddenly not so sure that this really was a good idea. “Thank you so kindly for your time. I, uh, wanted to see if it was possible to get an apprentice assigned to my shop. I know this is an unexpected request, but…”
The icy stare of Cog Captain Winklespring caused the old gnome’s voice to trail off. Mekkatorque was the first to break the silence.
“These are crucial times for us. Why would we assign extra resources to you?”
“Well, you see High Tinker, I’ve been in loyal service to you. For quite a number of years. As is, I am now getting a bit slower, and I sure could use a hand around the shop. It would be a great learning opportunity for a young Tinker.”
High Tinker Mekkatorque frowned. “What was your name again?”
“Uh, Wigglebolt, sir. Bodo van Wigglebolt at your service.”
“Wigglebolt? Related to Gearlock and Prudi Wigglebolt?”
“My parents, High Tinker.”
Mekkatorque nodded. “Your parents earned quite a reputation as outstanding Tinkers. Especially Prudi – she did much to improve the art of scope making for hunter rifles. Very valuable work.” Mekkatorque leaned forward, lowering his voice. “And how come I have never heard of you, Bodo van Wigglebolt?”
Wigglebolt swallowed. “I wouldn’t know, sir. My parents made quite the name for themselves in the crafting of weaponry. I myself enjoy making widgets and things that lessen the burden of everyday tasks.”
“Such as?” rumbled the High Tinker.
“Well, for instance, there is the mechano-lure. It replaces the need for catching worms before fishing.” Seeing that the High Tinker didn’t seem this worthy of a response, Wigglebolt wiped his forehead and continued. “There is also the portable campfire. No need to gather firewood. Though I admit, the food tastes a little gamey. Then I have…”
“Enough!” thundered the High Tinker. “That is quite enough. It appears you have spent your valuable time making toys. Toys that have no value whatsoever for our efforts to reclaim Gnomeregan. We cannot afford to assign any additional resources to someone like you. Your request for an apprentice is denied.”
Wigglebolt took a deep breath then bowed. “I... thank you for your time.”
Mekkatorque and his adviser immediately turned around and resumed their discussion without giving the old gnome another thought.
Wigglebolt trudged back to his shop, a step slower than usual.
