A/N: In case you haven't figured it out by now, I thought it would be wise to inform you that these drabbles may contain spoilers from the entire expansion. This particular one contains slight spoilers from the legendary questline, namely Chapter IV – Darkness Incarnate. But I guess you all have played through everything, though. Nerds. ;)
Dirty Jobs
Rating: T
Genre: Humor/Romance
Zenji giggled incessantly, like a little schoolgirl who had just spotted her crush and tried to appear casual along with her friends.
"Pleeaaase?" he begged, before erupting in giggles all over again, covering his teeth and tusks with one hand – something he had learned to do when he first came in contact with other races. Apparently they found the image of sharp teeth threatening.
Warmaster Zog was standing opposite him, his hand covering his face – not because he too was giggling, but because he was exasperated. Why, oh why had he accepted this job again? He wasn't the betting kind, but if he were, he'd place all his money on the fact that they never had to deal with this crap in the Alliance garrison.
"Commander, we have other people who are more than qualified for this… mission," he said plainly, fixing a stern look on the troll bent double in front of him. A glorified babysitter, that's what he was. And he'd never even wanted children in the first place.
"It's her first week, mon! Gotta start at da bottom," Zenji was able to wheeze out between bouts of laughing.
A few days ago, a wandering merchant had shown up. Zog had been suspicious of him from the beginning, as he was small and dressed strangely for an orc. He was selling some sort of game – a waste of time in Zog's eyes, but many of the workers, and the commander obviously, had been enamored with it. Last night had been pretty rowdy, he'd heard. Apparently they had started playing for money and when they ran out they put missions and different tasks in the betting pool.
Unsurprisingly, the troll shaman had eventually lost most of his money and was given a whole list of unpleasant tasks. Instead of taking it like a man however, he was running around the garrison ordering unsuspecting workers and peons to do it for him, calling it delegating. He was down to the last job now, trying to write it off as a mission for one of his followers. The warmaster was doubtful, though. He didn't want to be the one assigning this mission to her.
"Warmaster," he heard a deep husky voice behind him that sent all sorts of tingles through his body. A quick glance to his left assured him that the commander had made himself scarce as soon as the woman had entered the building. Sometimes he really did wander if the troll's true calling was stealth instead of elemental powers. He could disappear in the blink of an eye, leaving the other – less fortunate – party in very awkward situations.
Zog turned to face the speaker. She was all sorts of beautiful with her glossy black hair in twin ponytails, so dark it almost seemed blue, and her armor was tight in all the right places – though probably she favored it because of its utility and not its appearance – being a rogue after all. But the main attribute about Garona Halforcen that turned Warmaster Zog into a blushing adolescent was that he knew that she could handle herself in a fight. He was absolutely certain that she would disarm him and hold a knife to his throat before he could even reach for his axe. She probably wouldn't even break a sweat doing it, either. And if that wasn't what most orc males wanted in a woman, Zog didn't know what more you could ask for.
"Ah, miss… Garona, er, I mean Halforcen…" he stuttered, feeling every bit of stupid as the idiot shaman that put him in this position to start with. He cleared his throat, determined to try again.
"I…" he started before trailing off. The silence was almost painful to his ears and he could see Shadow Hunter Ukambe in the corner, his back turned but shaking with silent laughter. Fortunately, the awkward silence was broken by Garona.
"The commander summoned me here. Apparently there's a mission that requires my skills," she said as a way of explaining her appearance. Since the Archmage had freed his would-be assassin's mind, and they – Garona, the Archmage and Zenji – had infiltrated Bladefury's Command, the rogue had joined the shaman's forces at the garrison. She had been very accommodating so far, though most were scared shitless of her- with good reason, Zog thought. He'd heard that she was rather fearsome.
"Ah, yes. However, the commander decided that he will go on this mission himself – turned out to be more of a diplomatic errand – not that you aren't diplomatic of course, it's just that…" Zog had enough presence of mind to stop talking before he went off and dug himself an even deeper hole. Garona raised one eyebrow questioningly. The warmaster cleared his throat again.
"I have no more missions for the time being, but you're welcome to return tomorrow," he was able to say fluently, without any stuttering or awkwardness. Mentally patting himself on the back he was even able to give the rogue a slight smile.
"Alright, I will see you tomorrow then. Good day," Garona dismissed herself.
Zog stared at her retreating back, dumbfounded. Had he even been so smooth as to invite her back tomorrow? All kneel before Zog, he thought ecstatically, but wisely refraining from doing a happy dance in the middle of the Town Hall as he could sense Ukambe and the stupid adventuring human staring at him.
"Dat's very nice and all, Warmastah, but who will do da mission, den?" the Shadow Hunter asked. "Ah don't t'ink da Commandah will do it himself."
The orc closed his eyes and steeled himself, inhaling deeply.
"I'll do it," he said gruffly, grabbing a pair of leather gloves lying on the bench – he sincerely hoped they belonged to the commander – before heading out to clean the latrines, ignoring the sniggering around him.
The things he did for love.
