Plan 42 - Chapter 4

Category:Texts
Return to RP Stories
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This is merely a silly story, and has nothing to do with anything. Henry Kissinger, how I'm missing yer! Rated PG-13.
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== Chapter IV. Pawns In Foreign Policy ==
“What in the name of the High Tinker did you do that for?!” yelped the gnome, and aimed a kick at Buri, who managed to evade it by strafing to the left.
The human, dwarf, gnome and squirrel had arrived in the Mystic Ward of Ironforge.
The lanterns, torches and slag pits put the darkened city in an orange gleam, and the air was thicker than usual. There weren’t a lot of people out, since it was so late, but the gryphon roost should still be open and functional.
- Oh no, growled the gnome, “You are not going anywhere until you give me another two coins for my way back to Stormwind. I might be in trouble when I get there, so make that three coins!”
Buri picked his nose and stared at Sonar, who emptied his pockets on the ground.
- Instead of three coins… will a handkerchief, some mouldy cheese or a lucky charm work, he asked, and carefully started putting his belongings back into his pockets.
- What kind of lucky charm is that, asked the gnome, and stared at the trinket Sonar held in his hand.
Sonar examined the charm a few inches from his gargantuan goggles, and said, “It keeps badgers away.”
- What the Stranglethorn Vale is a badger, inquired the gnome.
“Th’ ‘uman can explain onne’ way,” grunted Buri, and started walking. “We haftah get t’ th’ gryphoneer, n’ catch one t’ Southshore.”
Sonar and the gnome followed Buri, with the squirrel trying to keep up behind them. Even though the Mystic Ward and the gryphon roost were located on the same depth, or level, of Ironforge, walking through half the city was still somewhat of an endeavour; fortunately, there was a pathway going straight from the Mystic Ward to the Great Forge.
- A badger is a horrible, ravenous thing, Sonar explained to the gnome, "With claws of steel that rip the flesh of all living creatures. They are pure darkness, their non-existant souls are forever cursed with a hundred thousand... curses, of evil and darkness... and evil darkness. Get it, gnomie?"
“Balderdash”, replied the gnome, “And do not call me ‘gnomie’, it is rude. My name… is Puck! I told you.”
- Go Puck yerself, muttered Buri, “… n’ be quiet! I cannae think.”
Buri stared at the note he got from the scout, and pondered where the necromancers might be; hopefully not too far away, since he’d already walked more than a dwarf should have to walk during such a short period of time.
- Going to fight necromancers, are you?
The gnome eyed Sonar up and down, as he picked the squirrel up from the ground and put it on his shoulder.
“Sonar wonders how the gnome found out about that”, said Sonar and tried to calm his squirrel, which freaked out over all the lava pouring down around them.
“I might’ve overheard your little talk in that bar,” said the gnome and corrected his beard. “Actually, I followed the silly dwarf there from a cheese shop, where he caused somewhat of a scene.”
- Wasnae much o’ a cheese shop, grunted Buri.
“Trias’ Cheese? Finest in the district!” commented Sonar and tucked his squirrel away in one of his pockets.
- Anyway, said the gnome, “Are you on some kind of quest? You rarely see people go off to fight necromancers unless they get paid for it by some aging lunatic.”
- We’re on a quest t’ fin’ th’ necromancers, kill’em, then get me famous with th’ superiors, said Buri, “Yeh can com’ along n’ ‘elp us fight ‘em if yeh want, buh I ge’ all th’ praise. A’ight?”
"Where are the necromancers?" pondered the gnome.
“We’re goin’ t’ find tha’ out now,” grumbled Buri, “I jes’ hafta ask a person.”
- Well, muttered the gnome and waved his staff around a little, “I can do some damage, maybe I will come along. I have not fought anything for some time now.”
They soon reached the gryphon master, and he was more than willing to send them all to Southshore, even though it was very late, and pitch black outside. He also offered them a pint, and advised them to keep their feet on the ground as they took off.
Sonar and his squirrel got a gryphon of their own, while Buri had to share his with the gnome. He tried to complain about it, but the wind was too strong, and he was busy hanging on for dear life.
- What’s the matter, yelled the gnome, as they passed through an opening in the gates of Ironforge, “Your first flight?”
Buri tried to turn around and smack the gnome over the head, but the gryphon suddenly made a strange noise, causing the dwarf to nearly fall off in terror.
Buri hated flying, it was always scary. What if the gryphon got lost? What if they crashed into a gyrocopter? What if someone shot them down from below?
As Buri recited all the prayers he could remember, the two gryphons passed over the mountaintops of Dun Morogh, and entered the swamps to the north.
It was a darker night than usual, and all that could be seen was the moon and the stars in the sky. Far below them chirped thousands upon thousands of crickets, and strange sounds could be heard from the swarms of insects and the hordes of beasts patrolling their territories.
Buri looked down, and spotted a bright light through the mist; then another one, then another one, and then another one.
“There ar’ four lights!” yelled Buri, “Wha’ ar’ they?”
Sonar yelled something back at him, but the wind was too strong for Buri to hear anything.
“Evil wisps, dwarf,” shouted the gnome behind him. “Bog-lights… they’ll getcha' if you fall down.”
Buri shrieked out in terror and tried to run away in fear, but remembered he was on a gryphon, several hundred yards from the ground.
A powerful wind suddenly grabbed his cowl and sent it flying down into the marshlands.
- Aaw, that’s th’ secon’ time tha’ ‘appens, cried Buri and buried his cold, bald head in the gryphon’s mane.
After a long and tiresome ride through the night and morning, with only three stops, the two gryphons finally landed in Southshore; it was noon, and the town was packed with humans. There had been much commotion lately around the Hillsbrad fields, where undead of all kinds had been spotted.
The civilians were scared beyond their minds of the Forsaken presence in the area, even more so after a number of attacks on settlements all over the place.
The only safe places were Southshore and Dun Garok, and both dwarven and human patrols could be seen wandering the roads; the merchants and traders hurried to get their supplies to Arathi in the east before nightfall.
After a considerable lunch-break in one of the inns, Buri told Sonar and the gnome to stay put in the town while he hitchhiked on a merchant’s cart towards Dun Garok.
Several hours passed, and the sun was almost disappearing again when Buri reached the great gates of the fortress. There, mountaineer first Habier greeted him with a punch to the nose.
Habier had just been promoted to the guard-commander, and his job was to make sure none of the guards slacked off on duty.
“Where the foxtrot ‘ave yeh been, Grimwolf?” screamed the guard-commander and slapped Buri across the face.
- Eh, eh… Grimwold, Habby. An’ I’ve been… fightin’ fish-people down bah’ th’ shore. I need t’ get in, so I can ‘elp out.
“Well…” muttered the guard-commander, “Yer not on duty anymore… might as well ge’ inside. Buh’ the cap’n is hearing of this!”
Habier had the gate lifted so that Buri could get inside, and then closed it behind him. Buri rubbed his cold, bald head and headed down towards the tavern for a quick drink. He made sure none of the captains were nearby, and then sat down.
- Haven’t seen yah around fer a while, said Nusslich Silverhammer, the bartender, and handed Buri a bottle of rum. “Where’s yer hood?”
Buri tried to open the bottle of rum, failed, whimpered and moaned, then said “Errh… somewher’ near Menethil Harbour, methinks.”
- Well, yah forgot yer axe ‘ere last time. Dun’ drop it again.
Nusslich handed Buri his bronze axe, and he equipped it; “Thankies,” he muttered, “Now, can yeh tell me if th’ female tha’ was in th’ trauma centre ‘few days ago is still ther’?”
Nusslich shook his head; “I dun’ know anythin’ about tha’. Yah can try n’ ask cap’n Icewall. He was ‘ere jus’ a minute ago.”
Buri left his bottle of rum behind, grabbed someone’s cowl from a nearby hanger, and rushed off to find the captain; fortunately, he ran directly into him as he went around a corner – unfortunately, the captain was carrying a crate filled with blasting powder, and it cracked as it hit the floor.
“Nae! Grimwold! Yeh’ll clean this up!” he shouted, and quickly moved away from the torches hanging from the walls.
- Aye, I’ll be doin’ tha’, Buri ranted, “… bu’ first I need sum’ ‘elp. I’mma findin’ th’ injured woman tha’ was ‘ere not long ago… th’ mountaineer second? Wher’ is she? Is she well? Is she talkin'?”
Captain Icewall wiped some blasting powder off his armor, stared at Buri with deep disappointment in his eyes, and then mumbled something about the ranking system.
- Erh, the woman…? Oh, the scout. She’s dead, he said.
“Dead?” whimpered Buri and removed the note he found on her from his pocket.
- Aye, said Icewall, “Someone put tha’ stupid “Noggenfogger elixir” in th’ healin'-potion injector… she turned intah sum’ kind-oh skeleton. Guards came in t’ see wha’ was goin’ on, and ‘ey hacked her t’ pieces.”
Icewall grabbed the note in Buri’s hand, and stared at it.
- Grimwold… wher’ did yeh get this…?
Icewall slowly focused his eyes on to Buri, who grovelled on the floor.
“I… thought I couldah ‘elp, sire…”, he sniffed, “I came back t’ find out wher’ th’ necromancers is, so we can kill’em n’ be heroes!”
“We?!” barked captain Icewall, “Who’s we?”
- I brought a ‘uman n’ a midget, sire, they’re innah Southshore, waitin’ fer me t’ com’ back, sire. We’re goin’ t’ beat necromancers wi’ our mighty fists.
Captain Icewall buried his face in his hands and growled something about the whole brigade going to hell, then dragged Buri off towards the officer-lounge of the fortress.
“We’ve been chasing after these necromancers fer a lon’ time, Grimwold,” he muttered, “We finally figure out wher’ they are… we send scout, she dies, we dun’ know when t’ strike – yeh’ve delayed everythin’! It coul’ be too late now!”
Buri shivered in fear as he entered the officer-lounge; it was just like the other wings of the fortress, just a little bit shinier. It was currently empty, with the exception of Nid, the sleepy janitor.
Captain Icewall dragged Buri into what looked like a war room, filled with chairs surrounding a large, round table. On the table was a detailed map of the Hillsbrad Foothills.
Icewall put the scout’s note on the map, next to a big, red cross. He sighed and said, “That’s wher’ th’ necromancers ar’, Grimwold. We plann’d t’ attack them a lon’ time ago, bu’ we found out they were… uhm, buildin’ something. We want’d to find out what.”
- Why is yeh tellin’ me this? Isn’t this classified, asked Buri and raised an eyebrow.
“Well, no’ any more…” said Icewall and glared at Buri, “well, if they’re a’ready makin’ one o’ those weapons, we have t’ strike. Who knows how far they are inne’ process. Screw th’ cloak n’ dagger crap, we hafta’ get th’ Colonel to approve of a strike, right now. We’ll roll in ‘eavy artillery n’…”
Icewall suddenly stopped to think. “We ‘ave too few siege engines, n’ we need at least four t’ guard th’ base, in case they com’ ‘ere…”
"Wher’s th’ Colonel?" asked Buri, and wiped some sweat off his forehead.
“He was ‘ere yesterday t’ receive th’ scout’s report… but there was nae report, so he left t’ th’ Forge.” 
Icewall stared at Buri, who managed to utter a feminine “Uh-oh.”
- Uh-oh, indeed, grumbled Icewall, “We’re goin’ tah hafta let Lt. Colonel Dunelore make th’ decision… I have pretty good idea. An’ I think yeh n’ yer friends ar’ goin’ t’ fit into it.”
Buri looked at Icewall, who grinned wickedly at him.