The woman known as Alia Atherton, but known to Jon Chess as "Beloved", looked up from her desk, where her field notes and sketches were being translated by Alia into a more formal record. It was a tedious but necessary part of fieldwork; translating things learned and experienced in the field into a cohesive, thoughtful, and complete narrative for the official records of the Kirin Tor.
"Time for a break before I fall asleep", she thought with a smile; her Shadow had been late returning home from a trip to Vigil Hill, and she had welcomed his return with many a passionate embrace. At first, she had trouble sleeping with someone else in her bed, but now, some months later, she had a hard time sleeping without her paranoid and protective paramour. As was their habit, Jon had woken early and made breakfast for her. He had returned to their bed to wake Alia with his lips, and sometime later they had repaired to the breakfast table. Jon had made her tea and reheated the now-cold meal, and they had eaten together before Jon had departed on business of his own, leaving Alia to her own work. The hour candle Alia habitually burned to measure with accuracy the hour of the day had melted in its smokeless uniformity until it was almost time for lunch.
Alia stepped away from her desk to fetch a thick journal, whose pages were uniformly blank. The leather4boud cover simply said "A Rogue's Diary". Jon had told her that at Ravenholdt the students had been trained to make daily entries to record their activity, but also to hide it from the eyes of outsiders by using a special ink, undetectable under certain circumstances - only the speaking of a cantrip of Shadow magic would reveal the contents, and then only for a short time.
As a sign of trust, Jon had taught Alia the key cantrip that would unlock the words.
She sat in the leather-stuffed armchair and began to read the cramped but precise script Jon used, losing herself in the story.
Anno 25
I approached the area in Ironforge where the refugees from Gnomeregan had been given residence; they had renamed it Tinker Town, and it was their new temporary home until they reclaim the clockwork city of Gnomeregan. High Tinker Mekkatorque and his advisors had set up shop close to the tram to Stormwind, and it was a busy, chaotic mess.
I had an appointment that had been arranged by my friends Nipsy and Monte Goldgears, the pair of Gnomes who had employed me to provide them with rat meat for their kabobs. I needed the services of a mage and an engineer; while I had turned down employment by SI:7, I was not blind to the advantages of portal teleportation and an augmented armory. Nipsy and Monte had a cousin they thought might fit the bill - she was a researcher for the Kirin Tor, and loved to play around with various mechanical devices that she sought to improve using the arcane.
Sounded ideal, if she would agree to work with me. As my teacher Zan Shivsproket had said more than once: "There are very few problems - professional or personal - that cannot be solved with the suitable application of explosive devices."
I had arranged to meet the lady at Springspindle's Gadgets; I'd bought a Gnomish Cloaking Device that worked well enough, but needed a new power supply after every use; while it made the user invisible, it only lasted for about ten seconds. Still, very useful when used with a smoke grenade for a quick exit.
I entered the shop, and almost immediately the silver-haired Trixie Quikswitch came over to flirt with me. "Jonny, it's been *ages* since we've seen you! Where have you been hiding, cousin?" Her sister Jemma rolled her eyes at her sister; Trixie joked that because she and I had the same hair color, that we must be related. "I hope you remember who has the most explosive touch to serve your needs?" Trixie said, not waiting for me to answer. Trixie was the engineer who often made me my supply of Small Bronze Bombs, which I found almost alarmingly useful. She had used a Silver Contact to set the bombs to explode after a five-second delay, and I'd practiced throwing the damn things so that they'd go off at chest height on most humanoids, their bronze casings making effective shrapnel.
"How can I forget a lady whose beauty is only exceeded by her skill with such useful devices?" I replied, flattering her shamelessly, smiling my best mischievous smirk. "May we talk about how much a case of grenades is going to set me back, later? I came here t meet someone... a miss Phredaria Goldgears. You know her?" It was a safe bet; the refugees fro Gnomeregan was a tight community, and most engineers bought parts for their own devices rather than roll a bronze tube or painstakingly assemble a hair-trigger mechanism themselves.
"Phred? Yeah, she's in the back, looking at some schematics to see if there is anything new," the apprentice engineer said. "HEY PHRED! A TALLARD OUT HERE TO SEE YOU!" I grinned; gnomes rarely used "tallard", which was kind of an insult, around others not of the roper, perfect height. Like I said, Trixie liked me, even if she liked my gold more, probably.
A gnome came out of the back room, and joined us. "Phredaria Goldgears. You must be Jonny Chess, right? Nipsy and Monte told me that you have a need for someone who is a mage and also for someone who is an engineer and I happen to be both, which is most convenient for you, and advantageous for me!" Phred said in one long breath. She was a little on the tall side for a gnome and had short, pink hair. She wore the familiar robes of the Kirin Tor, but her robes were crumpled and stained; perhaps with oil from the workbenches. "They also said that you could be trusted, which is a rare quality."
"Among tallards?" I said, smiling to indicate that I had taken no offense.
"Among anyone... " she said, snorting indignantly. "After all, it was Sicco Thermaplugg who took advantage of the trogg invasion to convince Mekkatorque to flood the halls of Gnomeregan with bob radiation to get rid of the troggs. Between the troggs and that traitor, we lost eight of ten of our brothers and sisters!" Phred's eyes grew wide with tears but refused to acknowledge them. "It wouldn't surprise me in the least if that bastard was the mastermind behind the entire trogg invasion, he and his toadies and the damned Dark Iron dwarves!"
One tough cookie, this gnome.
"Yeah, I do... I work for Captain Kestral in Theramore," I explained. "We run supplies and luxury goods there from Stormwind and Menethil Harbor, but between the Blackwater Raiders, the Bloodsail pirates, and the Horde privateers I sometimes need... an edge. Explosives, useful devices, and the sort. Plus the occasional locator spell or teleportation portal... We have plenty of gold, the route can e quite profitable... if we survive the run. Interested?"
"Maybe... Monty and Nipsy tell me you are a stand-up guy, and are pretty good in dark places. I don't want gold.. well, maybe some, but mostly I'd like to trade services...?" Phredaria countered.
"Oh, I can assure you that Jonny has done some of his finest work in the dark..." Trixie said, leering. "He's got strong fingers and a tongue as silver as his hair..." she insinuated, "...so he can talk or fight his way out of trouble!"
Phred's eyes went wide and she blushed a deep red at Trixie's attestation.
"I... ah.. I will take your word for it, Trix," Phred stammered. "Here's the thing... I want to go back down into Gnomergan. There are pockets of folk still there, and while Ironforge has been generous to take us in, they have to taste for helping us reclaim what is ours by right. So, Mr. Chess... you help me with my problems, and I will help you with yours - no questions asked by either of us. Deal?" She offered me her hand to take.
"Phredaria... I think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
"Time for a break before I fall asleep", she thought with a smile; her Shadow had been late returning home from a trip to Vigil Hill, and she had welcomed his return with many a passionate embrace. At first, she had trouble sleeping with someone else in her bed, but now, some months later, she had a hard time sleeping without her paranoid and protective paramour. As was their habit, Jon had woken early and made breakfast for her. He had returned to their bed to wake Alia with his lips, and sometime later they had repaired to the breakfast table. Jon had made her tea and reheated the now-cold meal, and they had eaten together before Jon had departed on business of his own, leaving Alia to her own work. The hour candle Alia habitually burned to measure with accuracy the hour of the day had melted in its smokeless uniformity until it was almost time for lunch.
Alia stepped away from her desk to fetch a thick journal, whose pages were uniformly blank. The leather4boud cover simply said "A Rogue's Diary". Jon had told her that at Ravenholdt the students had been trained to make daily entries to record their activity, but also to hide it from the eyes of outsiders by using a special ink, undetectable under certain circumstances - only the speaking of a cantrip of Shadow magic would reveal the contents, and then only for a short time.
As a sign of trust, Jon had taught Alia the key cantrip that would unlock the words.
She sat in the leather-stuffed armchair and began to read the cramped but precise script Jon used, losing herself in the story.
* * * * *
Anno 25
I approached the area in Ironforge where the refugees from Gnomeregan had been given residence; they had renamed it Tinker Town, and it was their new temporary home until they reclaim the clockwork city of Gnomeregan. High Tinker Mekkatorque and his advisors had set up shop close to the tram to Stormwind, and it was a busy, chaotic mess.
I had an appointment that had been arranged by my friends Nipsy and Monte Goldgears, the pair of Gnomes who had employed me to provide them with rat meat for their kabobs. I needed the services of a mage and an engineer; while I had turned down employment by SI:7, I was not blind to the advantages of portal teleportation and an augmented armory. Nipsy and Monte had a cousin they thought might fit the bill - she was a researcher for the Kirin Tor, and loved to play around with various mechanical devices that she sought to improve using the arcane.
Sounded ideal, if she would agree to work with me. As my teacher Zan Shivsproket had said more than once: "There are very few problems - professional or personal - that cannot be solved with the suitable application of explosive devices."
I had arranged to meet the lady at Springspindle's Gadgets; I'd bought a Gnomish Cloaking Device that worked well enough, but needed a new power supply after every use; while it made the user invisible, it only lasted for about ten seconds. Still, very useful when used with a smoke grenade for a quick exit.
I entered the shop, and almost immediately the silver-haired Trixie Quikswitch came over to flirt with me. "Jonny, it's been *ages* since we've seen you! Where have you been hiding, cousin?" Her sister Jemma rolled her eyes at her sister; Trixie joked that because she and I had the same hair color, that we must be related. "I hope you remember who has the most explosive touch to serve your needs?" Trixie said, not waiting for me to answer. Trixie was the engineer who often made me my supply of Small Bronze Bombs, which I found almost alarmingly useful. She had used a Silver Contact to set the bombs to explode after a five-second delay, and I'd practiced throwing the damn things so that they'd go off at chest height on most humanoids, their bronze casings making effective shrapnel.
"How can I forget a lady whose beauty is only exceeded by her skill with such useful devices?" I replied, flattering her shamelessly, smiling my best mischievous smirk. "May we talk about how much a case of grenades is going to set me back, later? I came here t meet someone... a miss Phredaria Goldgears. You know her?" It was a safe bet; the refugees fro Gnomeregan was a tight community, and most engineers bought parts for their own devices rather than roll a bronze tube or painstakingly assemble a hair-trigger mechanism themselves.
"Phred? Yeah, she's in the back, looking at some schematics to see if there is anything new," the apprentice engineer said. "HEY PHRED! A TALLARD OUT HERE TO SEE YOU!" I grinned; gnomes rarely used "tallard", which was kind of an insult, around others not of the roper, perfect height. Like I said, Trixie liked me, even if she liked my gold more, probably.
A gnome came out of the back room, and joined us. "Phredaria Goldgears. You must be Jonny Chess, right? Nipsy and Monte told me that you have a need for someone who is a mage and also for someone who is an engineer and I happen to be both, which is most convenient for you, and advantageous for me!" Phred said in one long breath. She was a little on the tall side for a gnome and had short, pink hair. She wore the familiar robes of the Kirin Tor, but her robes were crumpled and stained; perhaps with oil from the workbenches. "They also said that you could be trusted, which is a rare quality."
"Among tallards?" I said, smiling to indicate that I had taken no offense.
"Among anyone... " she said, snorting indignantly. "After all, it was Sicco Thermaplugg who took advantage of the trogg invasion to convince Mekkatorque to flood the halls of Gnomeregan with bob radiation to get rid of the troggs. Between the troggs and that traitor, we lost eight of ten of our brothers and sisters!" Phred's eyes grew wide with tears but refused to acknowledge them. "It wouldn't surprise me in the least if that bastard was the mastermind behind the entire trogg invasion, he and his toadies and the damned Dark Iron dwarves!"
One tough cookie, this gnome.
"Yeah, I do... I work for Captain Kestral in Theramore," I explained. "We run supplies and luxury goods there from Stormwind and Menethil Harbor, but between the Blackwater Raiders, the Bloodsail pirates, and the Horde privateers I sometimes need... an edge. Explosives, useful devices, and the sort. Plus the occasional locator spell or teleportation portal... We have plenty of gold, the route can e quite profitable... if we survive the run. Interested?"
"Maybe... Monty and Nipsy tell me you are a stand-up guy, and are pretty good in dark places. I don't want gold.. well, maybe some, but mostly I'd like to trade services...?" Phredaria countered.
"Oh, I can assure you that Jonny has done some of his finest work in the dark..." Trixie said, leering. "He's got strong fingers and a tongue as silver as his hair..." she insinuated, "...so he can talk or fight his way out of trouble!"
Phred's eyes went wide and she blushed a deep red at Trixie's attestation.
"I... ah.. I will take your word for it, Trix," Phred stammered. "Here's the thing... I want to go back down into Gnomergan. There are pockets of folk still there, and while Ironforge has been generous to take us in, they have to taste for helping us reclaim what is ours by right. So, Mr. Chess... you help me with my problems, and I will help you with yours - no questions asked by either of us. Deal?" She offered me her hand to take.
"Phredaria... I think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
* * * * *
Alia closed the book. Phred had told her that while she had liked Jon immediately, and that Jon had first become a field medic so he could help refugees trapped in Gnomergan escape to the surface. Phred had told her that she had fallen in love with him when once Phred and Jon had been trapped with a dozen refugees, heading for the surface, when wave after wave of troggs had cut them off and trapped them in a cul-de-sac. Jon had ordered Phred to make a teleportation portal for evacuation and then used his explosives to clear a space, charging into the mass of troggs... and using his last explosive device to seal the tunnel behind him. Phred had gotten the refugees to Ironforge and cried for a week, sure that she had seen the last of her ally and friend. A month later Jon had shown up again, alive. He had been taken as a slave to the Dark iron mines around Shadowforge City... but her Shadow was a sneaky little street rat, and had escaped.
But that was another story.
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