So a Troll walks into a Bar, right...

This would be a tough scenario to explain, Gulgrim thought to himself as he sipped at the strong alcoholic beverage rested on the rickety table just in front of where he sat. Just like the rest of this place the table had clearly been chewed up and spit out any number of times, especially judging from the fact that one of the legs had been broken off and was now replaced by a prosthetic limb tied to the broken stump of a table leg. He had to admit, this place was every bit the dump he had been warned it was. Gulgrim's reasons for being here were simple, although fairly embarrassing to the young Shaman. Servitude to the Horde and fighting on frontiers does not grant much time to be alone with oneself and, perhaps, a partner. It didn't stop him feeling somewhat stupid though, as he sat at his wobbling table sipping at a mixture that tasted reminiscent of charcoal. There were a number of Orcish women traipsing around the bar, but the one who had attracted his attention was an Orc of middle years working in the kitchen. He first saw her when she came into the main bar area to accept a freshly killed boar from one of the hunters, laughing and joking with a pair of Tauren men playing a dice game even as she effortlessly hoisted the bleeding carcass onto her shoulders and carried it to the kitchen. Visceral gore ran down her bare shoulders, turning her green skin into a crimson mess. Gulgrim longed to taste that boar, as he observed her plying her trade upon the animal.
A strange sensation manipulated Gulgrim's attention elsewhere, however. Momentarily he lost sight of his goal, but instead found a strange scene begin to unfold in front of him. An oddly dressed Troll walks into a bar. It sounds like the first line of a joke, but jokes don't tend to make you feel quite so tense. The Troll wore a pristine white garment that wasn't quite a robe, instead more free-flowing and open though secured at the waist with a length of silken rope. Perhaps indicating the climate of the lands he travelled from? He certainly didn't look much like the local Darkspear stock. Atop his head he wore a white hood, adorned with first a silver and then a gold circlet. His eyes were cruel, though not in a savage way that you tend to get with some of the wilder troll species. No, these were cruel but intelligent eyes that scanned the room. Gulgrim found himself unable to meet the gaze as it passed over him, averting his eyes for just a moment. It seemed the Troll was seeking a place to rest his weary bones, and weary he looked indeed as he shuffled across the room and all but slumped into a seat by one of the walls. Back to the wall, clear sight of the doorway. This most certainly did seem somewhat interesting, if not downright suspicious.
Appetite satiated for the moment, Gulgrim watched this Troll with intent as it continued to look back and forth across the room at each of the patrons in turn. This time the Orc Shaman held the Troll's gaze, eliciting a sneer indicated by the wrinkling of a large nose and the narrowing of his horrid eyes. This continued for quite some time, the Orc behind the bar getting increasingly agitated with both Gulgrim and this newcomer. Neither were buying drinks or taking advantage of the facilities. Pair of bastards, he probably thought. Suddenly the Troll slithered to his feet from the chair, walking towards the two loud and rowdy Tauren. Gulgrim observed as a small bag was produced from the folds of the Troll's outfit and placed on the table with a slight jingle, all this while the stranger whispered curt instructions to each of the burly males.
They continued playing their game for several more minutes, even after the Troll left the establishment with slithering strides. Gulgrim was just giving in to his curiosity and was about to ask the Tauren what the stranger had spoken to them of, when out of the blue one of the Tauren struck out savagely with his elbow and caught the other under the jaw. The recipient of the blow was knocked backwards off his seat, but rolled back to a vertical base within moments of the fall. They shouted profanity at each other before charging in to what was most likely the most tremendous bar fight Gulgrim had ever had the misfortune of being caught up in. They smashed each others heads off hard surfaces and against the walls, punched and head-butted their way from corner to corner and even broke furniture and bottles over each others backs. The proprietor even caught a savage left hook for attempting to come at the two with a blackjack club.
Not one for standing idle, Gulgrim tried to intervene. Tried being the keyword, as he was immediately served his notice when one of the Tauren struck him in the guts with a hoof-clad back kick, sending the young Shaman sprawling over the bar. It didn't take long for the fight to spill out onto the street, where Grunts were amassing from all across the Valley of Strength. The duty Guard, an Orc almost as large as his Tauren adversaries, kicked both creatures to the curb in short order with the help of his Grunts. They seemed to find it extremely amusing, but Gulgrim certainly wasn't smiling as he walked out of the building clutching his abdomen. Flickering his eyes back and forth, he scoured the streets for any sign of this renegade Troll, who he knew had something to do with all of this. As he stormed away from the scene, Gulgrim saw some Orcish brutality in action as the duty Guard pummelled one of the Tauren, pinned by Grunts, while his friend laughed with great drunken mirth.
Pushing through the gathering crowd, Gulgrim fought his way to the Wind Rider's tower and began to climb. A higher vantage should hopefully grant him enough vision to remotely scry through use of his far-sight remote viewing abilities. The plan deviated slightly as Gulgrim reached the apex of the tower. Pushing his aching body up, kissed by the burning sun of Durotar once more, Gulgrim noticed another commotion just within the Valley of Spirits. Steeling himself once more, the Shaman pushed his way through yet another crowd, wincing every time someone caught him with an elbow to the ribs or lower.
“Out of the way, Grunt of Dagger and Totem coming through.”
It held some sway with some of the more civilian denizens of Orgrimmar, at least. Finally, having pushed his way to the front, Gulgrim came across an Orcish woman being seen to by a Troll Witch Doctor and an Elven Healer of some description. The Troll wore tattered leathers with various charms sewn between the hide and carried a wicked looking Tiki stave to ward away spirits, while the Elf was dressed in more practical yet colourful garb. They undressed the Orcish woman tenderly, while the onlookers stared on dumbfounded. Well... not all of them. Some were jeering with the anticipation of seeing a young Orc stripped. Gulgrim crouched down near to the two figures, struggling slightly with the first and watched with curiosity.
“'Ey der, ya'wana 'elp wit' dis wan, bredda'?”
The Troll gave Gulgrim a pointed look, and he set to work supporting the weight of the Orcish woman while the other two inspected her now near-nude form. The young Shaman averted his gaze somewhat, out of a misplaced sense of decency, while the healing fingers probed at the green flesh.
“She's been opened before, by someone who does not know the subtle arts of surgery. Most certainly not with the appropriate tools. Recently it seems, although she has been stitched back together.”
The Elf reported what he saw, in an eloquent and precise manner, tracing his fingers across the wound.
“We're almost certainly going to have to open her back up to see what's going on in there. I suggest someone arrange a portal t-”
“M'no t'ink so, bredda. Sh'wan be stayin' wit' us in dis place. Take dis wan t'de Spirit Lodge.”
The Troll spoke to Gulgrim, who immediately bundled the woman up in his arms. She wasn't light by any stretch of the imagination, packed with muscle as any good Orcish woman should. The two healers, and the crowd, followed Gulgrim as he brought the Orc to the Spirit Lodge, where the Witch Doctor clearly held his practice.
“Sh'be missin' a parta 'erself bredda. Spirits know dis much. Sumtin' be takin' away.”
“How can you possibly know this without looking?”
The Troll just gave a knowing grin, tapping his nose with his staff as he crossed the threshold of the building. Gulgrim placed the woman down and stepped clear to allow the healers to do their job. Turning to leave, aware that all that was capable of being done was being done, Gulgrim heard a sudden commotion and turned in time to see the Orcish woman awake and grimacing in pain. At least she wasn't choking to death though, like the poor Troll whose throat had disappeared underneath her hands. The Troll made several strangled noises even as the Elf began quietly chanting a prayer, light dancing between his fingers as he touched the Orc's shoulders, apparently relaxing the muscles in her arms and robbing them of strength. Just before she fell back into a deep sleep she muttered something about a Troll. Not this Troll, or something of that ilk. The Shaman looked harshly at her now comatose form, even as the Troll's raspy breath came back. She'd seen a strange Troll? It made the next few hours all the more imperative that Gulgrim found that stranger.
For several hours, one of Dagger and Totem's Shaman Grunts wandered the streets of the great Orcish Capital city, asking about the Troll he had seen. Nobody recalled seeing them, from the Grunts on the gates to barman of the establishment where the trouble had started earlier that afternoon. Literally nobody seemed to remember them. Even upon running into the duty Guard later that afternoon, Gulgrim learned only that the Tauren had been unable to recall the features of the Troll who paid them to start brawling. The joke going around was that the Guards had knocked them so senseless that all knowledge had fallen out of their heads. It struck Gulgrim as particularly strange though, that nobody could remember this Troll's features. They even seemed a bit dim to his own mind, as though the memories were clouded somewhat. All Gulgrim could remember with any clarity was his clothing and the serpentine way in which he moved. It was time to see if the patient had awoken.
Moving through the city as night fell, Gulgrim enjoyed the cool air sweeping in from the Eastern coast. Pyres had been lit in several places to provide heat and light, and there were many a folk sat just inside their homes watching the night sky with their families. The young Orc climbed the tower once more, thankful he was not currently wearing his full suit of mail armour. Arriving at the Spirit Lodge, he came across the Elf who was currently stood outside smoking something that resembled a pipe.
“Throm'ka, Sin'dorei.” Gulgrim greeted the Elf in his typical Orcish fashion.
“Sinu a'manore, Orc.” The Elf replied, without emotion. Staring out over the glowing flames within the city limits.
“How fares my kin?”
“She sleeps now, but we have discovered what ails her. One missing kidney, a length of missing intestine and a missing appendix. From what we can gather these were all harvested from her recently.” The Elf looked troubled by this, but Gulgrim suspected there might be more to it than that.
“I assume her assailant was a strange Troll, wearing a white garb?”
The Elf nodded once, taking another drag of his pipe before upending the smouldering ash into a nearby fire pit.
“Essentially, yes. That's what she's been mumbling about. It's strange though. This very same thing has happened elsewhere recently. In fact, it's the reason I'm here.”
That did take Gulgrim by surprise. Grunting once, he hurriedly informed the Elf of everything that had transpired that day, beginning at the bar. The healer looked to Gulgrim and shook his head slightly as he returned the favour.
“I don't know if the cases are at all related, but a young man had some of his organs stolen in a small village in Quel'thalas. He also reported seeing a Troll, wearing white garb. I came to Orgimmar to see if you had suffered any similar cases. I did not expect to walk into the middle of one such case. I was hoping it wasn't the same, but apparently it is.”
Both frowned out into the night, perplexed by the situation they had gotten themselves into.
“I must alert my Chieftain.”
Gulgrim stated finally and turned to leave, pulling a buzzbox from his belt as he went.
“Has anyone seen the Chieftain, this evening..?”
[Follows on to]
Category:Story