We decided not to test Uncle Tizzo’s threat on becoming turtle bait and the mood on ship. Ras was able to book windriders for us to Orgrimmar and we found lodging at The Broken Tusk. Gryshka, the innkeeper, was able to find us some woolen wraps and put us upstairs. It was still dark when we rose from what little sleep we could get. Ras was brewing a mug of goldthorn tea when I came in from outside.
“You couldn’t sleep either?”, he asked quietly. “How are we going to get anything from this Denburg? We can’t just march into his office and start asking questions. We should forget this and move on, there’s bigger adventures out there for two enterprising warlocks like us.”
“I had to catch up with an old flame.”, I growled still not full awake, “She might come in handy.”
Ras went back to finishing his tea and we gathered our things and settled up with Morag, the barkeep who was quietly opening up. Shafts of red and golden light stretched next to shadows through the city giving it an unworldly glow while we worked our way through the center of town towards the zepplin towers. The streets were thick with activity, orc soldiers moving from place to place, tradesman barking their wares, and the Auction House had already been open for an hour.
“Grim, let’s look at the zepplin schedules – they’re in front of Grommash Hold; we might find out when he’ll be there.”, Ras whispered trying to be positive. The Warchief’s command palace jutted out of the center like a burning blackened tusk. It was defiant, standing squarely in the middle of the Valley of Strength, forcing you to yield around it in order to get anywhere in Orgrimmar. We moved from the crowds of people along the main road to the building and passed by a pair of Kor’kron soldiers. One of them put out the but of his sword, still in it’s scabbard, “What business do YOU have little one?”, he asked. The other soldier smirked and looked at the crowds.
“Just wanted to check the zepplin schedules, uh, sir.”, I said trying not to irritate the guard – and Kor’Kron guards are very easily irritated.
The guard face scowled with one lower tusk justting up from his lip in annoyance, “You want THAT board,” pointing as grabbing my head and screwing it to the right.
As we stumbled over to the parchment schedules, I found Denburg’s name scrawled on the roster – he was due in this morning from the Undercity. I was just about to make a note of it when there was arguing, then something large knocked me over stomping past. A goblin hurled to the ground with a thud, “I’ll get us on scheduuule!”, he cried sailing through the air. He grabbed his yellow engineering helmet and scrambled to grab his papers and began to scurry off.
“No more EXCUSES. I want that zepplin fleet ready to assemble our forces in Northrend or your head will adorn the first prow out of Orgrimmar!”, Garrosh Hellscream boomed, standing over the trembling crowd.
I looked at Ras, “That’s our in.”, and we followed him from a short distance. He was hurriedly looking through his papers and apparently running late. We barely kept up pushing past orcs, trolls, and other creatures filling the winding dusty roads. As he walked behind a table and put down his things, he wiped a rag across his grease smeared face, turned and saw us, and asked, “Yeah, yeah, whaddaya want?”
“I’m here to see Denburg please.” I said trying to be as polite and important sounding as I could.
The mechanic just looked back at me, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that – did you say Denburg? As in Skymaster Denburg? You gotta be kiddin me. Beat it.” The mechanic grumbled some obscenities under his breath shaking his head and chuckling to himself. He grabbed a spanner from under the counter and started to head out the doorway.
“I see,” I said in a repressed urgent tone, “I guess the Overlord’s report will have to wait. We were on our way here when…”
The mechanic turned his head to look back and sneered, “Beat it pal, you don’t look like orcs to-“, before he dropped his spanner with a loud ping. Visibly shaken, he came back to us and stammered, “Wait a minute, you were there when the– Oh, uh, I’m uh… I hope you don’t take offense to… I mean, I didn’t realize…”
Ras leaned forward and smiled, “Is Skymaster Denburg available? It won’t take long.” I think Ras actually began to enjoy watching the mechanic squirm.
“No, um – Yeah! Wait, he’s uh… He’s actually here from the Undercity – the towers at Undercity. I can get you to see him – now, you’ll, you’ll remember that, right?”
“I would hope you wouldn’t mention this to anyone, it’s…official business.”, I added as Ras nodded thoughtfully. We walked up the steps to the flight deck where the operations area was. Ras whispered to me, “You really think we’re gonna be able to get anything other than thrown off the tower for this?”
“I called in a favor…but it ain’t gonna be cheap”, I said shaking my head.
“How’s that pal?”, the mechanic asked.
“Oh, I said ‘Say, this is pretty steep'”, smiling as best I could; it seemed to be a good enough answer as we continued up. Turning back to Ras, I whispered, “Don’t worry, I got us some help, she’s done this sort of thing before and – she’s a pro – ain’t that right babe?”.
Ras looked in the dimly lit stairwell and could faintly make out a beautiful shadow of a face, a succubus. “Grim, you brought one of them?! Are you crazy? She’s likely to kill us as well as everyone else up there for the sheer thrill of it”.
Before I could say anything, a cold, spaded tail gently covered my mouth and a seductive whisper echoed from the dark, “You remember that cupcake…”