Gelbin Mekkatorque : Cut Short The Short Story - Gelbin Mekkatorque : Cut Short was written by Cameron Dayton and was one of a series of short stories released by Blizz ard in their Leaders of Azeroth short story series . Gelbin Mekkatorque : Cut Short . " We ' ve done a security sweep of the upper floors in sector 17 , sir . The place seems fairly untouched since our , uh , departure . Granted , everything stinks of trogg . . . " " Mmmm , yes — that delightful mixture of mold , mange , and sour monkey . Puts one off of his lunch , I know . " Cog Captain Herk Winklespring grimaced , going slightly pale at his commander ' s description . The scent was obviously taking its toll on morale . " And your team is equipped with my latest - model High - Velocity Nostril Squeege s ? " " Yessir . The smell . . . well , you can taste it , sir . Regardless of how well - squeeged your nostrils are . " Winklespring tilted his head back , displaying a large , handsome pair of gnome nostrils that were , indeed , well - squeeged . " I ' ve had two members of my squad request transfer to Troll Patrol over in Anvilmar , and my medic wants to know if we offer stink leave . " High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque sighed , pushed his glasses back onto his forehead , and slid his forefinger and thumb down along the sides of his own prominent nose . These new glasses hurt , and adjusting them was first on a list of thousands of tasks he planned to tackle when this engagement was through . He hadn ' t slept the night before , and the flesh where his lenses had perched was feeling raw and tender . Retaking Gnomeregan was turning out to be much more than a simple military action . Take this stench , for instance . One of the problems with a vast subterranean mechanical city — one of hundreds , actually — was ventilation . At full capacity , the network of fans , vents , and filters had required a team of fifteen technicians working shifts around the clock to keep Gnomeregan smelling fresh and clean . Years of un - squeeged trogg funk had congealed into layers of musky , impenetrable grime that was proving harder to remove than the invaders themselves . " Don ' t worry , Captain . I ' ve got the whiz kids down in the Alchemy Corps prototyping my Unpungent Reekaway Cannon s this week . Should help to blast that nasty smell from our halls . Why don ' t you and your squad take the rest of the day off , go grab some pints down at the Thunderbrew ? " The other gnome smiled , saluted , and gave a quick nod . Mekkatorque turned back to the blueprints laid out on the table behind him and pulled his glasses back in place , wincing . While some sections of Gnomeregan were still being viciously contested , others had fallen into his hands with surprising ease . Of course , assistance from the Alliance had been catalytic in that respect , but Gelbin wasn ' t so sure . The Hall of Gears had seemed almost . . . abandoned . It was unlike his old enemy to surrender territory so easily . Gelbin was interrupted by somebody clearing his throat , and turned again . The cog captain was still standing there , wringing his hands . " I ' m sorry , was there more , Captain ? " " Well , yes , High Tinker , sir . If you don ' t mind my asking . . . " " Not at all . Speak up . " " Right , sir . It ' s just that some of the boys were wondering , and I was too , why we ' ve been sent to reconnoiter that sector . I mean , it ' s nowhere near the front line and doesn ' t seem to hold any resources — or any real strategic value at all . Just looks like some crazy old geezer ' s library . Sir . " " An ' old geezer ' s library , ' you say ? " Captain Winklespring smiled conspiratorially . " Ha , that was my impression anyway , sir — stacks of old books , crumpled papers , and something that looked like a coney burrow built out of pie tins — " " Well , I suppose the Deeprun Tram scale mock - up does kind of look that way . . . " " The . . . sir ? " " Those were my quarters , Captain . " " Your . . . your quarters , sir ? Oh . Oh . My apologies , High Tinker . I didn ' t mean to — " " Not quite what you ' d expect for someone in my exalted station , eh ? " Gelbin chuckled and leaned forward to pat the flustered captain on the shoulder . " Don ' t worry about it , Winklespring . I may have held a lofty seat in the Tinkers ' Court , but all of my real working , thinking , and inventing was done in that crazy old geezer ' s library . Now , on your way out , would you let Sergeant Copperbolt know that I ' m ready to survey the area ? Thanks for your strong work , Captain . " Gelbin waited until his security team had turned and disappeared around the corner before he let the smile drop from his face . His shoulders slumped with a breathy exhalation that was both a sigh and a curse . This was hard . Hard returning to his study . His nook . This was the place he ' d pictured whenever he ' d heard the word home , even after so many years away . Years living under the charity and forbearance of allies who , for all their noble sentiment , still looked upon him with pity . The pity — ah , that was the hardest part . For a race of ambitious folk whose lives were validated by a masterful command of the scientific laws of the universe , to be pitied was unbearable . To be pitied was to be insulted . Gelbin chafed under the sympathy , and he knew that his people did too : as a leader , he had learned that it was wise to spare some thought for his own emotions since they often reflected what the rest of the gnomes felt , to some degree . But the pity wasn ' t all , at least for the high tinker . Having to keep up the smile , the courageous cheer , and the gnomish wit in front of his people . Having had to project a constant and uninterrupted confidence in the tight quarters of old Tinker Town , when all he ' d wanted to do was collapse to the ground and . . . and . . . Gelbin took a shaky breath and staggered to the side , catching his shoulder against the metal wall with a dull thump . So many dead . So many ! Steeling himself , he clenched his fists and exhaled . He closed his eyes and counted prime numbers until the feelings retreated , once again , to that distant corner of his mind . Safe , reliable prime numbers . You could always depend on them . Trust them . Gelbin knew that he ' d have to go back and deal with those feelings someday , but there was no time for that now . No time at all . The gnomes needed their high tinker at his best for the retaking of their homeland , and showing silly things like shame and regret would only seem like weakness . A wayfaring people who teetered on the brink of extinction could not afford a leader who displayed weakness . At least , not again . Shaking the thought from his head , Gelbin strode forward and began to assay the condition of his one - time home . Unlike his peers in the Alliance , the high tinker eschewed fancy living conditions in exchange for a practical abode . What use was a throne when you thought better on your feet ? The well - worn network of hallways in sector 17 was a physical representation of Gelbin ' s creative process : library connected to drafting room connected to simple foundry connected to assembly chamber . Research , imagination , creation , engineering . This was where numbers had been rallied , partnered with iron , and sent marching forward . Literally . These halls were where Gelbin had envisioned the first mechanostrider , which had allowed his diminutive people to match pace with the mighty human chargers . That creation had launched the young gnome ' s fame and set him on the path to leadership . The gyromatic micro - adjustor , the repair bot , the Deeprun Tram , even the prototype of the dwarven siege engine — all had begun as sketches and dreams in this study . All had been formed from the primordial ooze of Gelbin ' s imagination for the betterment of the gnomes . " Which begs the question , " he muttered , " can a hundred brilliant inventions make up for one terrible mistake ? " The darkness held his words , lined them with pain . Waiting for an answer that he already knew , the high tinker noticed something that made him smile . He was talking to himself . He hadn ' t done that since . . . well , since he had last lived in these tunnels . So maybe the returning neurosis was a good sign ? Gelbin scratched at his neatly trimmed beard . " If I ' m finding hope in a psychotic relapse , things really are dire . " Moving through the assembly chamber , he ran a finger over a dusty bench and clicked his tongue . The years had not been kind . Even in the flickering light — its functioning illumination further testament to gnomish engineering — Gelbin could tell that his once - spotless study was going to need a serious and thorough squeeging . He spied his trophy case against the far wall . It was something the high tinker had installed at the request of his apprentices , and only because he had needed someplace to put all these useless commendations . Like everything else , it was draped in a layer of dust . The centerpiece of the large display was his first working mechanostrider prototype , standing proud and lanky amidst various medals and ribbons . Gelbin smiled , noting that even the latest , most advanced high - speed models hot from Ironforge still echoed the avian gait and kettle - bellied form of his original opus . What ' s more , he had heard reports from his agents in Northrend that the enigmatic mechagnome s had adopted his invention for their own mysterious purposes . What could be more flattering than having a race of machines use your machine to get around ? And while the mechanostrider had been the first ( and arguably the most popular ) of his inventions , the steady stream of unique , powerful , and violently practical creations that had issued from these halls had strengthened his people and proved the gnomes to be a vital asset to the Alliance of dwarves , humans , and elves . This was where Gelbin Mekkatorque had gone from mere inventor to high tinker of the gnomes . This was where Gelbin Mekkatorque had reached his greatest insights , birthed his most brilliant inventions , and received his brightest accolades from a people who celebrated creativity and craft above all else . And this was where Gelbin Mekkatorque had foolishly trusted counsel from one he had considered a friend . This was where Gelbin Mekkatorque had sent the order that had killed most of his people , cost the survivors their homeland , and cast them into begging and ignominy . He slammed a fist into the wall , raising a cloud of dust , and the lights overhead flickered in a visual echo of his frustration . The high tinker shook , clenching and unclenching his fingers . Then . . . he decided that he should just walk it off . He wandered from the assembly chamber to the foundry and then to the drafting room . There he stopped . Gelbin suddenly realized , with some surprise , that he had just displayed his first sign of actual anger now , years after the betrayal . And it had felt good , this uncharacteristic act of rage . Perhaps the dwarves were rubbing off on him . Or maybe being home again , finally out from under the eyes of pitying benefactors and worrying citizens , he felt as if the curtains were drawn and he didn ' t have to be high tinker . Here , finally , he could be Gelbin . And Gelbin could feel sad ; Gelbin could feel betrayed ; and Gelbin could feel furious and heartbroken about the damnable injustice of it all . He growled and swung at the wall again , relishing the blunt pain in his knuckles and the satisfying clang that reverberated through the iron hallways around him . If nothing else , spending time with the dwarves had made his people stronger , more comfortable with their physical prowess than ever before in the gnomes ' scholarly history . The dwarves had mastered the indelicate art of melee combat in a world made up of beings who were often more than double their stature , while the gnomes had generally focused on escaping and avoiding such conflict . But these years of hardship and survival amongst their burlier allies had , for better or for worse , given the gnomes a combatant edge . Gelbin saw more gnomes wielding swords , donning armor , and talking back to Tall Folk than ever before . " Well , " he mumbled , " the talking back hasn ' t helped our already shrinking numbers . " The ringing from his violent assault on the wall was still echoing through the room , and the high tinker caught himself mid - thought . That didn ' t sound right . Gelbin cocked his head and took a step back . Sector 17 had been carved into the sturdy northwestern reaches of Dun Morogh — a portion of that snowy range consisting largely of granite and shale . The ironclad hallways in this wing of Gnomeregan shouldn ' t respond to percussive force with that sort of resonance . Was his memory faulty ? Gelbin rapped his knuckles against the wall again , eyes closed . Again , the ringing carried with an almost bell - like tone . Without taking his eyes from the wall , Gelbin backed up to the center of the room . His old troll - made chair , a delightfully primitive construction of bone and raptorhide , still sat in its familiar spot . The chair was a souvenir from the first gnome - assisted Alliance foray into a Horde encampment during the Second War , and Gelbin had kept the fierce - looking thing to remind himself of two important points . First , that his enemies lived in a world shaped from monsters ' flesh and bone . And second , that even tusked , mossy - skinned savages needed a cozy place to sit sometimes . Although the high tinker rarely sat still while caught up in his inventions , he had used the chair as a makeshift cot after countless late nights of brainstorming . Its low profile and wide expanse of padded leather , intended for the relatively substantial troll posterior , had made for a perfect gnome gnap . He collapsed back into his chair ' s welcome softness with a worried sigh . Had there been some new construction in this area since the exodus ? Gelbin ' s suspicions were heightened now . He scanned the drafting room , checking for any signs of sabotage : loose wiring , misplaced panels , or unknown footprints in the dust . This entire sector had been scrutinized by his most able crew , but Mekkatorque had learned not to trust blindly . Especially when Thermaplugg was involved . Sicco Thermaplugg . The name still brought a cold tightness to his stomach , a tension that could not be reasoned away . Gelbin had finally conjured up a term for this odd sensation : it was a feeling he was severely , frighteningly unfamiliar with . It was confusion . In this one rare instance , High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque was still very , very confused . How could it have happened ? A Gnomeregan gnome who acted against his kind was an impossibility , a fluke , an inconceivable aberration . Unlike the dwarves , the gnomes had no previous history of internecine violence . Theirs had been a past free of warlords and violent factions . Generally speaking , gnomes simply didn ' t fight gnomes . In a world of lion s , tiger s , furbolg s , and Tall Folk , his people had to rely on each other . It went without saying . That was why gnomes didn ' t need the primitive primogeniture that had caused so much bloodshed amongst other races of Azeroth , and had shifted away from monarchy centuries ago . Gnomes elected their leaders by common consent , based on the merits of their work . Merit that was entirely quantifiable in its benefits to the race . To act in a way harmful to one ' s kind , to lust after power in spite of the cost to one ' s people — that was something a dwarf would do , or an orc . It was undoubtedly human . But how could a gnome bring about the near extinction of the gnomes ? Sicco had claimed to have tested the radiation levels of the gas . He had claimed to have evidence of its terminal effects on the troggs , and he had shown Gelbin falsified numbers on its density and volumetric weight . The gas should have stayed in the quarantined thoroughfares and lower sections of Gnomeregan , poisoning the invaders as they emerged from the depths while the gnomes waited safely sealed away in the upper urban tunnels . At the time , this had seemed like the only way out of the unforeseen invasion , and it wouldn ' t require any help from the otherwise - occupied Alliance . The gnomes would take care of the gnomes . Thermaplugg had seemed so confident this stuff would do the trick . But most of the troggs had just shambled through the gas , if anything , growing wilder as they became irradiated . And the gas had risen through Gnomeregan . It had sifted through Thermaplugg ' s vaunted Kleen Wind Domicilic Filter s . And it had killed the gnomes who had sat waiting in their homes , choking on vile green clouds behind doors that the high tinker had promised would keep them safe . Gnomeregan had died that day . It had died because Gelbin Mekkatorque had trusted a friend to be a friend . Or at least to be a gnome . Gelbin leaned back and closed his eyes . The tightness in his chest was almost painful , and for the millionth time he wondered if he should renounce his title and let somebody else be high tinker . Somebody less confused . Somebody who wouldn ' t make a fool mistake that would end up killing so many . . . This time there was no holding back the despair , the thick wave of sorrow welling up from where it had been trapped for far too long . Gelbin took some quick breaths , counted prime numbers , gripped tightly onto the seat of his chair . But there was no stopping it this time . The grief swept past his defenses , burst through his chest in a ragged , throaty sob . And alone in the dark stone silence of his abandoned study , High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque finally wept . After the tears had dried , the trembling stilled , and the chill quiet returned to the room , Gelbin let out a shaky breath and straightened himself . He felt . . . empty . . . in a clean , hollowed - out sort of way . It wasn ' t a good feeling , exactly . But a much - needed one . Time to get back to the surface , back to his people . He was already feeling selfish for taking so long with his own problems . Pushing down on the armrest , he started to rise . And paused . There was something cold under his hand . Gelbin opened his eyes and looked down . Folded neatly on the arm of his chair were his favorite spectacles , the simple mithril - rimmed lenses he had gotten as a gift when he had graduated from Gearshaft University . Strong , reliable , comforting . They had held a constant position on his face for decades since — a position that had only been interrupted by the trogg invasion and the gnomes ' subsequent hasty departure . Gelbin had been making do with a new pair of glasses in the meantime , something he ' d scrapped together in Ironforge in his spare time while running between Tinker Town and Bronzebeard ' s throne . It was a feat his poor nose had been lamenting ever since . Smiling , the high tinker reached down to retrieve his long - lost eyewear . " Now I can get back to being mysel — " The glasses came off of the chair with an odd tension , and Gelbin froze . A cold memory slid from the back of his thoughts : these had been a graduation gift . A present from his friend and fellow graduate Sicco Thermaplugg . And Gelbin would never have left his glasses sitting on the chair . Too late , he noticed a thin wire wrapped around the nosepiece . It trailed down the side of the chair and into a tiny hole in the tile below , an almost invisible thread of metal . Truesilver , incredibly light but stronger than steel . Gelbin felt a small tug on the other end of the wire , the mechanical twitch of a released spring , and looked up just in time to see a heavy door slam shut over the entryway . There was a similar metallic clang in the exit hallway behind him . New construction in sector 17 ? Apparently , there had been . Somebody had left a trap for the high tinker , and Gelbin had walked right into it . Who else would sit in this chair ? Who would touch the high tinker ' s spectacles ? As hidden gears grumbled behind the hollow walls , Gelbin found himself wondering if Captain Winklespring had been paid off , or if his team really had missed this sabotage . There was a crackling static sound , an electric speaker coming to life , followed by a voice that had haunted the high tinker ' s dreams for years . " You know , dear Gelbin , I had wondered if this bait would be too obvious for you — almost didn ' t believe it when my alarm went off . It looks as if I can always rely on your charming naiveté to outweigh your intellect . " Gelbin leapt to his feet , wiping at his eyes . For a moment he had the childish worry that perhaps Sicco had seen him crying , but the high tinker quickly shrugged it aside . The empty feeling of a moment ago was now replaced with something colder . Fear . Shame . They echoed his confusion in painful harmony . Gritting his teeth , Gelbin reached down to the belt loop where he usually carried his trusty Wrenchcalibur . Nothing . In his rush to see his old study , he had come entirely unarmed . This was another thing he never did , not even walking around Ironforge . Was he losing his mind ? Confusion , forgetfulness , and now this . In a funny way , Thermaplugg was right . The high tinker had suspected a trap down here , had sensed that this area had been relinquished too easily . But . . . but how could Sicco willingly waste such an incredible amount of time and resources just to kill a single gnome , when the entire Alliance was at his door ? Again , confusing . " Focus , dammit ! " Gelbin whispered to himself . He was going to die down here if he didn ' t pull it together . The high tinker had never felt so out of sorts , but he couldn ' t let his old friend know that if he wanted to live . Perhaps verbal sparring would keep Sicco ' s famously one - track mind occupied while Gelbin figured a way out of here . He cleared his throat . " Obviously I gave you too much credit as a tactician , Sicco . It ' s no wonder my forces have been able to make so much headway against your entrenched army , a throng that outnumbers us three to one : you ' ve been wasting your time on silly revenge games . " Quickly assaying the chamber , Gelbin fought to maintain focus . If Thermaplugg decided to flood the place with the same toxic gas he ' d used against his people , there would be no escape . Gelbin knew this room well enough to appreciate that . Only two doors , both of them sealed off . He lifted the front of his tunic up to his face , looking around for telltale signs of the deadly green mist . Perhaps he could hold his breath long enough to exit through whatever vent his enemy had constructed to deliver the vile stuff . Sicco Thermaplugg was laughing . " ' Silly revenge games ' ? Gelbin , do you have any idea what your death will do to the gnomes ? They have kept you at the helm in spite of everything I ' ve done to discredit you . The little fools love their high tinker . Your death is going to rip their hearts out . " Gelbin ' s reply was cut off by the click of a switch being thrown . Dead silence , and then a mechanical groaning , the sound of heavy iron cables straining against spring - powered wheels . The wall in front of him — the very wall he ' d struck — began to lift up into the ceiling . There was a rush of warm , moist air , and Gelbin realized what form his assassination would take . It smelled like mold , mange , and sour monkey . The trogg emerged from the shadows with a wet growl . Powerfully built , with muscular arms hanging almost to the floor , it moved with the confident swagger of a predator that knows its prey is trapped . The high tinker had commanded engagements against these beasts before , but he had never been so close to one ; his security team would never allow it ( a team he had foolishly ordered to wait for him outside the sector ) . The trogg was easily twice Gelbin ' s size , and had a network of scars running across the pebbled skin of its chest . Jagged , bony protrusions slanted out from the creature ' s shoulders and elbows , deformed growths that bore testament to its rocky heritage . Gelbin had heard rumors that the troggs were a twisted branch of the dwarven race ; although he would never admit it to his gracious hosts , he could see the similarity in the shaggy beard , stout form , and thick , cabled bands of muscle that seemed to have been carved from granite . But that was where the similarities ended . The trogg had a sloped , apelike posture , with the heavy browridges and pronounced canines of a predator . Gelbin thought back to his combat training . One trogg was usually a match for four or five gnomes , assuming they were armed and experienced in subterranean warfare . A proven tactician himself , Mekkatorque knew that even without steam - powered armor and Wrenchcalibur at his side , he could still put up a decent fight . The gnome took a step forward and scanned the room . Maybe if he could get to the other side of the study quick enough , there would be a stool that could become a makeshift weapon . If he could keep the trogg at bay , perhaps he would be able to escape through the opening it had just come through . It would be risky , but it was the best — Two more troggs shambled into the light . The first one grunted guttural commands to the other two , and they moved to either side of their prey with a feral swiftness that belied their bulk . The wall lowered behind them with a foreboding clang , and Gelbin felt a sad clarity : he was going to die here . There was no way out of Thermaplugg ' s trap . Sicco was finishing the job he ' d begun in the halls of Gnomeregan years before . The city would finally and unquestionably belong to the monster who pretended to be a gnome . Gelbin dropped to his knees and closed his eyes . Over . Done . He was tired of the pity , tired of the daily reminders that he had lost his kingdom simply because he ' d been a gnome . He was tired of the damned confusion . The shuffling sound of troggs grew near , and Gelbin Mekkatorque whispered goodbye to his beloved Gnomeregan . To his people . " The little fools love their high tinker . " After all of this , they love their high tinker . Gelbin opened his eyes and looked down . He saw that he still held his glasses , saw the razor - thin truesilver wire extending to the floor . Almost instinctively , his engineering mind took over , and imagined blueprints spread open across his vision . The tripwire led to what was obviously a weighted spring trigger . This was linked to a heavy axle that was counterweighted by the cables that had lifted the wall on a pair of what had sounded like rusting iron hinges — Sicco had always been sloppy in his construction . The rest was fairly simple engineering , actually , and Gelbin found it ironic that even Sicco the un - gnome relied on gnomish technology to achieve his dark ends . A technology that Gelbin had adapted , that Gelbin had innovated , and that Gelbin had mastered for the protection and salvation of his people . Gelbin Mekkatorque was a gnome in his flaws and in his triumphs . That was why his people loved him . That was why he was still high tinker . And that was why he was still fighting for the gnomes , even after so much shame , darkness , and confusion . And suddenly he wasn ' t confused anymore . Rolling to his side , Gelbin dodged the first trogg ' s fist as it barreled toward him . The creature ' s stony knuckles cracked into the tile floor , sending shards whistling past his ear . Gelbin was on his feet the next second , sprinting toward the back of the study . A plan was forming in his mind . " So tell me , Sicco . If my death delivers such an obvious advantage to you , why wait until now ? Wouldn ' t it have been much easier to kill me back when I trusted you ? " It was hard talking and running at the same time , but Gelbin knew he had to keep Thermaplugg distracted if this was going to work . Thinking that their prey was moving to some hidden escape , the two troggs at his flanks charged ahead to block him . Gelbin had anticipated this , and he took the few seconds it granted him to reel in the remaining truesilver wire around his glasses . The first trogg was almost upon him again , and Gelbin turned to run directly at the howling beast . It hadn ' t expected this , and lunged over empty air as Gelbin ducked , slid between its legs , rolled to his feet , and kept running . Roaring , it turned and lumbered after him . The other two troggs , excited by their brother ' s noises , let out howls and circled around . They weren ' t dumb animals , Gelbin knew . They were content to let the first trogg tire him out , and then they ' d move in for the easy meal . Sicco ' s voice sputtered overhead . " What ? You ' re not dead yet ? " Gelbin smiled as he ran . His opponent had just revealed that , while he could hear inside the chamber , he couldn ' t see what was transpiring . The angry trogg was fast — faster than Gelbin had imagined — and the gnome could feel its horrible breath on his neck . His own breath was coming in gasps , and Gelbin focused on the drafting table only a few more yards in front of him . Closer . Closer . With a sudden yelp , the trogg was yanked backward and sent crashing to the floor by some invisible force . The truesilver wire that Gelbin had looped around its ankle had reached its limit and , catching on the sturdy mithril spectacles at such a combination of weight and velocity , had severed the creature ' s foot from its leg . An anguished roar , part moan and part scream , shivered the air . The trogg lifted a spurting , ragged stump and bellowed again , pounding a fist on the ground . Mekkatorque gave it an apologetic wink and scurried to the drafting table just ahead . One of the troggs moved toward the fallen creature , more curious than concerned , while the other continued circling Gelbin . Angry mumbles came from the speaker hidden above . " You ' re right , Gelbin . I should have killed you back then , but I needed a scapegoat . I needed somebody to rally the gnomes against as they elected me the new high tinker . Do you realize how much time I spent concocting a plan that would spoil your name ? Killing you would have been easy ! " Gelbin had reached the table , and he began pulling out drawers in a frantic search . He covered his actions with an almost conversational tone . " So when does the part about rallying the gnomes and becoming high tinker start ? Was that supposed to happen before or after the genocide ? " Sicco growled , cursed , and there was the distinctive sound of a wrench bouncing off a wall . Gelbin was getting to him . " Any idiot can sound wise in hindsight ! The gas was more . . . efficacious than I had hoped . My calculations showed a thirty percent mortality rate , a statistically meaningful number of corpses — all laid at your feet . That , followed by my impressive dismissal of the troggs , would have ensured a speedy coup . " Gelbin saw his opening . " ' Would have ' being the operative phrase here . . . " Another crashing sound — this time what could only have been a fist against the microphone . " Who could have calculated that the gnomes would still follow you after I had practically painted your hands with their blood ? That they would disregard logic and act like a bunch of weepy , emotional night elves ? I ' m glad the gas did what it did ! The gnomes needed this purge ! " The next sound was similar to the last , only louder and followed by a roar of static . Then silence . Apparently Sicco Thermaplugg hadn ' t factored melee damage into his microphone durability template . Gelbin looked up from his rummaging and nodded . " Temper , temper . You ' ve just lost your ability to gloat from long distance , my friend . " He bent down and went back to work . Luckily , Thermaplugg had been careful to leave most of the study undisturbed to avoid alerting the high tinker ' s specialists . In fact , Gelbin suspected that most of this trap had been built elsewhere and installed behind the walls and under the flooring . The only traceable intrusion had been that damned wire . And that damned wire had just reduced his problems by 33 . 3 percent ( repeating , of course ) . Gelbin found what he was looking for at the bottom of the last drawer . It was a little leather satchel holding a set of tools that his assistants had used to service the clocks scattered around the study . Punctuality had never been one of his strong suits , but he liked knowing exactly how late he was going to be . The gnome turned to get his attackers ' bearings , and dodged another vicious blow . One of the troggs had tried to sneak up on him , and its fist burst through the table behind Gelbin as though it were made of matchsticks . He had always suspected that these creatures had heavy minerals in their physiology , and the havoc that they ' d wreaked on the floor and furniture in the last few minutes had confirmed that . Again , the gnome ' s speed was his advantage , and he scurried from the beast with satchel in hand . The trogg roared in anger , then turned to growl commands to its brethren . One monster was bleeding its life out on the tiles , but the other grunted assent and moved slowly across the room . They were going to trap Gelbin between them and then move in for the kill . The high tinker couldn ' t run forever . It was only a matter of time , and they knew it . The gnome had returned to the center of the room , where his chair still lay , tipped over on its side . The dying trogg had yanked the wire with the full force of its heavy , running body and dislodged the trigger housing that had been buried just below the tiles beneath the seat . It was a square metal box about the size of a dinner plate . And if Sicco Thermaplugg had done the same sort of sloppy , goblin - esque engineering that Gelbin had seen him use before , the main spring axle and counterweights would be directly under that . Gelbin pushed the chair aside and opened up his satchel . A wrench , an iron hammer , a file , and a white vial of blackmouth oil for lubricating springs — all miniature , just the size for working with clocks . Or for sabotaging some sabotage . He glanced up , estimating the time before the troggs would close in . Maybe twenty seconds . He ' d need thirty . Uncorking the vial , he spilled its contents and then rolled it across the tile in a glistening line toward the nearest trogg . The creature looked down at the little flask , chuffled in simian amusement , and looked up to see the gnome pull out a tiny wrench in one hand and a file in the other . In one quick motion , Gelbin brought the edge of the wrench down along the length of the file . A bright line of sparks arced to the ground and caught onto the oil trail , which flowed in a fiery snake to the vial at the trogg ' s feet . It had happened so quickly that the creature barely had time to turn aside as a ball of fire blossomed underneath it . The shaggy hair on its beard lit up , and the trogg began frantically beating at itself with knobbed knuckles . This only served to fan the flames . Satisfied , Gelbin turned back to the wire , broken tile , and dislodged trigger housing at his feet . The other trogg was still across the room , and it was moving much more cautiously now that its companion had just been set ablaze by an unarmed gnome . " Thirty seconds now , " mumbled the high tinker . " Maybe forty . " He used the wrench to open the trigger housing and then located the trigger mechanism at the base of the truesilver spool . Sure enough , Sicco had been sloppy . A good saboteur would have made sure that the trigger was a one - time - only construction , through either single - use materials or low - tensile springs . The spring on this spool was still wound enough for a few more uses , and Gelbin quickly attached the trigger to the counterweight switch , an oblong combination of cogs that allowed the trick wall to move up and down by managing the cables connected to a separate massive spring wound around an axle directly beneath his feet . With the trigger attached , he set the switch to the side and reached down into the space below where the trigger housing had been . The wrench flashed as Gelbin speedily removed the restraining bolts that held the axle securely in place . There were four rusty bolts in total , and it took Gelbin the remaining time to get three of them free . Metal groaned as the massive weight that had been borne by an entire frame now leaned on a single corroded bolt . Gelbin raised himself up from his work just as the trogg grabbed him , yanking the gnome into the air . It pulled Mekkatorque close and grinned a ragged grin : its patience had been rewarded . The high tinker was inches away from cracked , boulder teeth . Teeth spotted with the remains of whatever poor creature had last been held this close . Gelbin shrank back with a grimace . " Winklespring was right — I can taste that smell . " The trogg roared , and the high tinker was spattered with saliva . Then Gelbin smashed his fist into the trogg ' s mouth , shattering the front teeth and driving pieces of bone into the back of its throat . The trogg dropped him and staggered backward with a gurgling cry . Gelbin shook the blood off his hand , then opened it to reveal the iron hammer . " Word of advice , friend . Never let a gnome near your teeth . " The trogg wiped the gore from its mouth , then turned as the other trogg arrived , blisters on its scorched skin . The two creatures were enraged , and Gelbin knew that he was seconds away from being torn apart . He took a step back and pressed down on the hastily constructed trigger . Underground weights shifted ; cables pulled taut ; and a single rusty bolt snapped under the pressure . The tiles beneath the troggs ' feet burst apart as a cable ripped up through the ground , pulling the axle behind it in an eruption of rock and metal . It sent the beasts flying backward to crash against the mangled desk , while simultaneously lifting the trick wall behind the high tinker . His foes were down , and the exit was clear . It was time to leave . Gelbin tucked the tools into his belt . For a second he paused and actually debated going back for his old glasses . He could see them across the room , still tied to the grotesque remnant of a trogg foot by a length of wire . Chuckling at the thought , he turned to go . Only he had waited too long . Now there were more troggs coming through the exit . Dozens of them . They crowded through the opening and circled around Gelbin , growling and snarling and licking their craggy teeth . He was out of ideas , and doubted that the troggs would be so kind as to lift him and his bloody hammer fist up to their faces . But the troggs weren ' t advancing . They were waiting . " I suppose I owe you an apology , Gelbin . I underestimated your boldness — should have sent four troggs . " The high - pitched laughter that followed was unnerving . From the sound of it , Sicco Thermaplugg had only fallen deeper into madness down here with these monsters . There was a clanging sound , the hiss of a steam engine , and Sicco appeared . The mekgineer had created a new battle suit for himself . Gelbin had heard reports of Sicco driving some massive cauldron - shaped thing through the bowels of Gnomeregan these past few years , but this was something altogether different . An agile contraption , the human - sized construct strode past the waiting troggs with a hiss of hot vapor . Welded from malleable , decorative metals , it resembled one of those fancy human suits of armor made for parades and showing off to the commoners — only with Sicco ' s wrinkly little head poking out of the collar . The demented gnome had aged poorly in the last few years , and Gelbin barely recognized his old friend . Hollow cheeks , thin strands of white , cobweb hair , and the sickly green tinge that spoke of radiation and lunacy . Sicco saw Gelbin ' s pitying look and took it for appreciation . Grinning , he spun in a tight circle and then bowed with a flourish . " Impressive bit of engineering , isn ' t it ? You know , I did several test runs with a more practical battlefield prototype , but it proved far too bulky . . . and susceptible to explosions . This suit is much more stable in that regard , much more appropriate for my station . " " Your station ? " " Of course . It is only fitting that the king of the gnomes see eye to eye with the other rulers of the land . A difficult concept for a puny failure like you to grasp , I know . " Gelbin frowned . " The king of the gnomes , huh ? So you ' ve given up on winning an election , I presume . That ' s probably for the best , since the electorate might have a hard time voting for a candidate who ' s not a gnome . " Sicco looked startled for a second , and there was a hiss . The high tinker wasn ' t sure if the sound had come from the boiling steam engine in the belly of Sicco ' s suit , or if it had been an actual reptilian reply from his would - be usurper . Regardless , the noise fit Thermaplugg ' s scowl . " I think begging for scraps at the dwarven table has driven you a little batty , Gelbin . Not a gnome ? I am ten times the gnome you will ever be ! While you sat back and coasted on your phony , unpredictable ' genius , ' I was the one who had to actually work for recognition . Who spent weeks designing all the ballistic workings for your siege engines ? I turned your lumbering metal beet truck into a mobile cannon ! That work cemented our alliance with the dwarves . And did I get even a shred of thanks ? " Gelbin sighed . " Sicco , you were one of the brightest gnomes in Dun Morogh , and you seem to have forgotten that I was always very vocal about my gratitude for your work . You had creative , even brilliant ideas . But you were too sloppy . Too rough in your estimates and too quick in your refinement . I assigned you to ordnance design in hopes that you would step up to the task . But your ballistic calculations would have detonated my siege engines as they reloaded . I spent long hours reworking your figures before sending them off to Ironforge . " " What ? Lies ! If my work was so shoddy , then why let me take credit for the guns ? " " Because , " said Gelbin , " you were my friend . " Sicco Thermaplugg took a step back , eyes wide . For a moment , his face softened into something resembling the bright young gnome whom Gelbin had befriended years ago . The gnome he had helped graduate from school , employed at his foundry , and lifted to a prominent role in the Tinkers ' Court in spite of worrisome and increasingly flawed performance . Sicco blinked several times and brought a metal hand up to rub his forehead . " Gelbin , I . . . I . . . " And then he noticed the hand , the powerful gilded fingers that he alone had created . He brought the hand up as a fist , and Sicco ' s face twisted into a lunatic grin . Gelbin ' s friend was gone . " Well , that soggy weakness is exactly why I decided to take the reins from you . The gnomes should be dominating this land with our unstoppable weapons , not trading them away to imbecilic allies . That ' s what goblins are for ! " The high tinker shook his head . " You never really understood , did you ? It is our loyalty to our friends that provides our truest , greatest strength . This is what separates us from the ogres and troggs — and even the goblins . This is why the dwarves helped us back from near extinction , even surrendering a portion of their hallowed halls for us to call home . And this is why there are dwarves , humans , draenei , and night elves dying alongside us in the surrounding tunnels to reclaim a city that was never theirs . They are here because they are our friends , Sicco . My friends . It is a power that numbers cannot match . " The mekgineer hissed — this time Gelbin was positive the sound had come from the gnome ' s puckered mouth — and marched forward . " Why don ' t you just close your eyes and let me end this embarrassment ? " Stopping just in front of the high tinker , Sicco shook his head , raised his hand , and waved goodbye . The hand made a ratcheting sound , rotated in a complete circle , and then disappeared into the steel wrist of the battle suit ' s armor . Thermaplugg chuckled and brought the arm forward . With another burst of steam , a vicious blade emerged from the cuff — a blade that began to glow red with mechanical heat . Gelbin stumbled backward into the axle , feeling the tensely wound spring against his spine . He still had the wrench in his belt , and he lifted it to parry Sicco ' s blade . This elicited another chuckle . " Oh , dear . You look so precious down there . Is this how the dwarves taught you to fight ? " " No , " said Gelbin , twirling the wrench in his fingers . " This is how a gnome fights . Watch your head . " He turned and tapped the wrench against the catch holding the spring in place — a catch that had been supported by the framework below . Now it swung down with a clank , releasing the spring to whip free of the axle , a sharp steel blur whistling through the room as a massive store of pent - up energy was discharged in seconds . Gelbin felt a tremendous whoosh of motion slashing over his head , and then . . . stillness . He pivoted and looked back . The troggs still stood there , drooling . Sicco let out another giggle . Three lonely hairs that had been previously growing on the crown of Gelbin ' s head slowly fell down in front of his eyes . Followed by the head of every trogg in the room . And finally , by the bisected torso of Sicco Thermaplugg ' s battle suit . With a hot gush of steam , the top half slid free and crashed to the ground just in front of Gelbin , rolling to a stop face up against his leg . The occupant swallowed once and blinked repeatedly . Sicco was surprised . Sicco was . . . confused . " M - my legs are in that half , " Sicco said , pointing at the still - standing portion of the suit . High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque nodded and leaned down to pat him on his mechanized shoulder . " Indeed they are , my friend . And with a razor - quick spring cut and steam cauterization from your ruptured engine , the bleeding is probably minimal . I ' d wait around to see if the rats find you before your trogg minions do , but I ' ve seen enough of the latter for one day . " " You ' re just . . . just going to leave me here ? " " You don ' t deserve a quick death , Sicco . You deserve a long , miserable existence in a dark hole , surrounded by filthy monsters . " Gelbin took a step back with a sad smile . He spread his arms to encompass all of fallen Gnomeregan around them . " In fact , you have created your very own prison right here . Better than any I could have built for you . You definitely outdid me on this one . Congratulations . " Sicco Thermaplugg blinked . He stammered . Gelbin relished the rare opportunity to look down on his enemy . He could hear the sound of more troggs approaching through the opening , and knew it was time to go . " Besides , if you do survive , I can ' t think of anybody I ' d rather have leading these beasts than one of their own . " He bent forward and sniffed the top of Sicco ' s head , wrinkling his nose with distaste . " Enjoy your remaining time in jail , my friend . Your sentence is almost over . " And with that , Gelbin left his study to head back toward New Tinkertown , leaving Sicco alone , helpless , and thoroughly bisected in the dark . The trogg infestation was still going to take time and effort to cleanse . A comprehensive squeege job on these stinking hallways had just been bumped up in priority , and the high tinker was already envisioning plans for a more open , airy layout . This " dark hole " was due for a remodeling the likes of which even the titans had never seen , not just for a return to its former glory , but for something far better . Far brighter . Far more fitting for the gnomes of Azeroth . Gelbin removed his new glasses and sighed , running his fingers down the bridge of his nose . A few upgrades , a few improvements — he could get used to these after all .