Wrachette sighed as she kicked the last few drunkards out of the tavern. Though she'd suggested adding an inn above the bar, Tizzle always muttered that it would be too expensive and that they'd probably lose business during the renovations. When Wrachette had said it wouldn't be too bad, he'd asked her if she was willing to keep them afloat with her earnings off the black market and then had promptly dismissed the subject before she could say that she wouldn't mind it at all.

Tizzle was in the back going over the books to make sure their other waitresses and bartenders weren't trying to swindle anything. Fidget for example, the ruggedly handsome goblin who generally filled in for Tizzle when he went off on a raid or during shifts he needed to have free for business meetings, had stolen from the tavern on multiple occasions. Honestly, the priest would have chucked the bastard to the planks by now, if not for Wrachette.

She was star struck with him and probably could have spent the rest of her life staring into those dreamy, yellowed eyes of his. Fidget had caught on to her affections, and he teased her, occasionally winking her way or offering her a compliment or flirt. While it left Wrachette feeling all melty inside, Tizzle was merely biding his time. Sooner or later the damn goblin would have to go out of town, and Tizzle was certain that 'something' was going to happen to him as soon as he was out of sight of the Booty Bay Bruisers.

Even as Wrachette supposed it was for the best that they weren't an inn, for then they'd have to deal with disgruntled customers at all hours, a hand caught the door before she could close it and lock up. Her annoyance quickly turned to enthusiasm as she realized it was Sprocket standing in front of her and not some random alcoholic.

Though...she would have rather it been Fidget...

"Hiya, friend," Sprocket began, already trotting into the empty tavern, though he looked rather unnerved. The confidence in his voice wavered. "Don't suppose a guy can find a place ta crash here, eh? For less than that inn across the way?"

Wrachette grinned and flipped her dark green ponytail over her shoulder, figuring that perhaps Sprocket's rattled demeanor was merely because he was late on a payment of some kind. While rare for him, it happened to most everyone at least once or twice. "Depends. Ya got anythin' worthwhile for us?"

"Gold isn't?"

As Wrachette laughed and said that it was, Tizzle shuffled out from the back room, pen between his lips as he stared at some papers. "Ya need me ta throw somebody out...?" He spoke around his pen as he trailed off. When Wrachette didn't immediately respond with a yes, he looked up to see it was his guild mate rather than some belligerent fool and grinned from ear to ear. "Sprocket! Good ta see ya! What brings ya from that cold hell ya call home, hmm?"

"Oh, the usual business," Sprocket shrugged, glancing over his shoulder toward the door and then sauntering up to a table. Wrachette hopped up into a chair next to him as Tizzle put his papers away and came out to play host. Once Tizzle was seated, Sprocket glanced around the room and then scooted his chair closer in to the others. Even as he did so, Wrachette realized he'd taken seat at the centermost table, as though the walls were coated in some infectious disease. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. "Guys, we got problems."

Tizzle's smile vanished in an instant. "What kinda problems?"

"The Alliance..." Sprocket glanced around again before shivering. "There was a guy...a human rogue. He came inta my shop and was askin' me a few things, about merchandise and the like. And then he started in on these weird questions, right? Do I do a lot of business with the Horde? 'Of course,' I said, 'just like the Alliance.' Then he was askin' who I did business with. He wanted names."

Wrachette scooted her chair closer to him so that he could lower his voice more. "What did ya do?"

"I told him," Sprocket whispered, annoyed that she had to ask, "that I do business with anyone who has coin."

"So what's the problem?" Tizzle muttered, already losing interest.

Sprocket eyed the priest and then ran his hands over his face. "He asked if I knew ya two. Or Impervious. Said that our names are on a Horde guild roster—that yours are on the damn charter—and he thought that was weird. I lied. I told him my name's probably on an Alliance charter, too, seein' as I'll sign one if enough money is offered. I told him I didn't really remember anythin' about any Impervious."

Wrachette pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her long arms around herself as Sprocket jumped when the wind rattled one of the windows. He hopped to his feet and darted over to the window, pulling the curtains shut as he cursed himself for not thinking of it earlier. When he made it back to the table, he was a pale green.

"As for ya guys, I said, 'Sure I know the Sprogworks twins. Best ale in the Eastern Kingdoms. Want me ta hook ya up?'" Sprocket was wringing his hands. "He just laughed. Real creepy like. Then he asked me about my pen pal in Stormwind."

"That gnome tinkerer?" Tizzle cocked his head. "What's he got ta do with this?"

"Friend, ya don't get it," Sprocket hissed. "Outside of the guild, nobody knows about him. I don't even talk about it ta people in Everlook. Face it, the Cartel pretty much knows we're Horde, they just turn a blind eye. If we get outed, they'll just say they didn't know and kick us ta our faction." As Wrachette opened her mouth, he frowned. "I don't tell people about the pen pal or Impervious because if I start talkin' about Horde or Alliance, I figure it'll be like puttin' a target on my back saying I represent one. So there's no way he could have known about that gnome...unless he's been watchin' me pretty damn closely."

Tizzle frowned. The mage had a point. However... "So this guy comes asking weird questions, and then the second he leaves ya head here? Why? Wanted ta make sure all our coffins are nailed? Why not use the guild stone?"

"I don't know that I trust it anymore," Sprocket whispered. "Some of the things he said...he's had access to somebody's stone." Sprocket ran his fingers through his hair, flattening it and making his large ears look like they stuck out even further than they did. "I don't know what we're gonna do. And yeah I did head straight here. Through a port. So it's not like he could have followed me."

While the Alliance and Horde had ports to their major cities, so too did the Steamwheedle Cartel. However, one of the only things the goblins held steadfast to was that portals were pretty much out of the price range of either of the main factions, though in theory one could purchase a portal. They'd pretty much have to offer the deed to Stormwind castle if they wanted one, though. Such precautions were to make sure that no fingers could be pointed their way. No need to help an Alliance forerunner or a Horde scout with their conflicts unless it was blatantly obvious that the cartel had been paid well.

With this knowledge, Sprocket had doubted that the rogue would be able to find someone to port him. Though now, he felt as though the damnable human were standing behind him, breathing down his neck. He glanced over his shoulder to confirm to himself that his fears were ungrounded.

As a terrifying silence settled over them, Wrachette's eyes slowly widened. She glanced at the other two, who were too busy in their own thoughts to notice. "What exactly did he say about the guild that he couldn't have known otherwise?"

Sprocket stared forlornly at the table. "He talked about Quel'Danas. And the Void Reaver."

"So maybe all the info he got was at that elven isle," Wrachette offered hopefully. "I mean, we were the only goblins there. Maybe our hoods slipped off once or twice. We could always say that we just went with the Horde because they were the ones there. That we'd wanted ta help out and show the Cartel wanted a safe world, too. Or that we were paid."

"We just happened ta help the guild whose roster we're on?" Sprocket asked, frowning. "I hate ta say it, but I think we're in danger if we try ta stay neutral."

"Ya've got ta be kiddin' me," Tizzle hissed, jumping to his feet. He motioned around the tavern. "Do ya know how many years and how much effort and gold Wrach and I put inta this place? Tons! We're not just gonna ditch it all just because some human scared ya."

"Lower ya voice, will ya?" Sprocket snapped back.

Wrachette shifted in her seat, uncomfortably. "Tizz, maybe we should go on vacation for a bit, yeah? We could have Fidget watch the tavern and go back ta Gadgetzan for a while. Just, ya know, see if anybody's really snoopin' around?"

Instead of responding to Wrachette's request, Tizzle narrowed his eyes at Sprocket. "Get out."

"What?" Both other goblins gasped in unison.

"I said get the hell outta my tavern," Tizzle hissed. "We ain't Horde, and we don't need no factionalist conspirin' and bringin' down our good name."

Sprocket's mouth hung open before he slowly shut it and set his jaw. He dropped out of his seat to leave, but paused. "It ain't just him that scared me. There was a group of them Alliance near my shop when he left. He wasn't with 'em, but... They were eyein' me, like they'd overheard our conversation, and they'd drawn their own conclusions..."

"How many times I gotta tell ya ta get out before ya listen, hmm?" Tizzle snapped, ignoring Sprocket's desperate attempts to reason with him. "Do I need ta call for the bruisers?"

Sprocket gave the priest an icy stare before turning to Wrachette. "I don't think it's safe. I'm gonna get my stuff in order back in Everlook, and then I'm headin' ta Orgrimmar. If ya want, let me know before I go, and I'll come by ta give ya a port."

~"~

Wrachette stood in front of Tizzle's bedroom door, hand poised to knock. However, just before it could hit the door, she pulled back and paced the hall again. As she debated just going to bed for the nth time, the door swung open, and she jumped. Tizzle leaned against the frame, a heavy frown on his lips.

"If ya got somethin' ta say, say it. Ya makin' the damn floorboards creak, and I can't sleep through it."

Wrachette rocked up on her toes as she looked at the floor, half hating it for giving away her insecurity. As Tizzle muttered something about going to bed and began to swing his door shut, Wrachette caught it. "Maybe we should listen ta Sprocket, yeah? He's never misled us or anythin'."

Tizzle glared at his sister and crossed his arms sharply. "How many years we been on our own, huh? How many times have I ever failed ya?"

Blinking, surprised by the question, Wrachette shrugged. "Never."

"Then why don't ya trust my judgment now?"

Wrachette shook her head. "It's not that I don't trust ya. I just..."

"Just what?" Tizzle snapped, angry. "Ya'd rather listen ta some frozen goblin than ya own brother?"

"Don't ya be difficult," Wrachette stomped her foot, ignoring as the floorboards rattled. "The Alliance...and the Horde get pretty scary when it comes ta people they think are on the other side. We get so many of both here, I don't want ta see Booty Bay erupt into the next Halaa."

"Ya never even been to Halaa," Tizzle muttered, though his anger was giving way to simple unease.

"I've heard enough about it ta not want our home ta be like that." Wrachette looked at Tizzle pleadingly. "Let's just...go ta Gadgetzan for a while. 'Til we get everything sorted out."

With a look of disgust, Tizzle's earlier frown returned. "I ain't goin' anywhere. I got a business to run."

With that, he slammed the door shut in Wrachette's face and went to bed.

~"~

"What's buggin' ya?"

Wrachette blinked and jerked her attention toward Fidget, who stood on the other side of the bar from her, slowly wiping down a few glasses. The tavern was rather slow today. Only a few drunken humans mulled about in one corner, all four lost in a miserable silence.

Even as Fidget repeated his question, Wrachette looked the humans over, half expecting one to suddenly glare at her or mouth something like, 'We know your secret'. She shuddered and looked away. "Nothin' really."

"C'mon," Fidget set the glass down and leaned against the counter. "Ya can't expect me ta believe that. Ya normally so cheerful." He cocked his head, his bat-like ears perking up as he gave her a comforting smile. "What's eatin' ya?"

Wrachette stuck out her lower lip as she considered whether it would hurt to give him a vague idea of the problem or just to make something up. At length, she shrugged. "A friend's gettin' threatened, but Tizz won't help him."

"So why don't ya help him instead?" Fidget leaned his chin in one of his hands. "Ya don't need ta do everythin' with Tizzle, do ya?"

Frowning, Wrachette sighed. "I don't know that I can. On my own, anyway."

Fidget nodded, thoughtful, though a wide grin plastered itself to his face as he nodded toward a dwarven duo who entered the bar. After greeting the customers, he paused to look back at Wrachette. "I'm sure ya'll think of somethin', yeah?" He winked at her, "Ya've always been smarter than that brother of yours."

She couldn't help but smile as he turned away to tend to their customers. Just as she considered going over to bother those humans and see if they needed any refills, her foot scraped against something on the floor. She looked down to see a piece of paper lying half under her foot.

She could see that it was a form and as she plucked it from the ground and read it over, she paled and darted into the back of the tavern. Tizzle sat in the center of his office, mountains of papers and ledgers lining the edges of his desk as he went over the expenses for the previous month.

"Tizz, we got problems," Wrachette hissed, sliding the paper down under Tizzle's nose and interrupting his train of thought. As her brother cursed, she tapped the paper frantically. "Look at it, would ya?"

Tizzle gave her an irritated glare before acquiescing her request. He'd barely read the first paragraph when he pushed the paper back toward her. "I got work ta do."

"Tizz," Wrachette tugged on her ears in desperation. "Do ya realize what that is?"

"Sure I do," Tizzle snapped, suddenly leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands in his lap. "It's somethin' that doesn't apply ta us."

"A law and tax form for non-cartel businesses," Wrachette hissed.

"Like I said," Tizzle replied, frown well in place, "somethin' that doesn't apply ta us."

"Somebody put this in our bar," Wrachette had to catch herself before she could wail what she was trying to say. "Somebody knows and they're threatenin' us, like they did Sprocket."

Tizzle scowled and slammed one of his fists down on the table, making one of his stacks of paperwork slosh onto the center of the desk. As he cursed and began to restack it, he gave her a quick glare. "If that moron hadn't come by, ya wouldn't be worried like this."

"I'd still be wonderin' how it got here," Wrachette snapped.

"Some entrepreneur dropped it."

"It wasn't there 'til I turned ta leave the bar. And nobody was near enough ta drop it," Wrachette cried out.

"Hey..."

Both Sprogworks twins started, Tizzle looking up sharply as Wrachette whirled around as though expecting to see an Alliance soldier ready to cut her down. Fidget stared at them wide-eyed from the doorway.

Tizzle was in no mood to deal with him. "What?"

Fidget stepped into the room just far enough to hold out a thick envelope. "Some guy came by with a letter for ya."

"Who was it?" Wrachette asked, reluctantly taking the envelope as though she expected it to be cursed.

"Didn't recognize him," Fidget shrugged, already beginning to close the door to Tizzle's office. "He said ya'd know him, though."

Wrachette waited until the door had clicked shut before sliding her nail along the top of the envelope. When she took out the bundle of papers inside, her expression blanked. Tizzle had been watching her from the corner of his eye, and he frowned when she didn't either scream or try to object that just because the letter in question didn't relate to her paranoia that it didn't mean people weren't out to get them.

"Wrach?" Tizzle asked, though his frown only deepened as she merely shoved the papers toward him. Tizzle looked over the paper, and the air caught in his throat. They were documents pertained to their guild's raid attendance, with meticulously neat notes on the side next to different people's names, saying the reasons they'd been unable to make it to various raids.

At each entry, both of their names had been circled. Tizzle flipped through the papers, seeing that each and every raid their guild had ever done was documented. His lips quivered into a snarl. "What the hell is this?"

"That rogue..." Wrachette whispered.

"Rogue? Rogue my ass!" Tizzle crumpled the papers in his hand and threw them at the ground. "Sprocket sent them! That bastard won't be happy until we're as terrified as he wants us ta be!"

"What are we gonna do?"

"I'll tell ya what I'm gonna do," Tizzle sneered, grabbing up the wrinkled papers and stomping out of the room. "First thing in the morning, I'm goin' ta Everlook ta show that prick he can't mess with us like this!"

~"~

Tizzle stocked down the snowy streets of Everlook, his arms hugged about his torso as he cursed himself for not having a winter coat. Why would he have needed one when he lived in Booty Bay? Even as he shivered and tried to convince himself that it would just be a waste of money to get one now, he caught sight of Sprocket's workshop. Brow knitting in angry determination, Tizzle picked up his pace, though even nature seemed against him, a harsh wind blowing fallen snow up into his eyes.

However, as he approached, the door to the shop opened, and two human men slipped out into the open. Tizzle froze as he saw blood splattered across one of their breastplates. The other was laughing and speaking quickly, though the goblin couldn't hear what about. For the first time since Sprocket's warning, Tizzle actually felt like there might be some ground to it, though he quickly shook it off, along with the urge to hide from the humans, who didn't even cast a glance his way.

He was a business man here on business, if anyone asked. Besides, Winterspring was a dangerous place. Surely the blood had come from some yeti or saber. Or even a member of the Horde.

Chilled as he was, he waited until the men were out of sight before he wandered up to the shop, frowning to see that they hadn't even closed the door all the way when they'd left. As he eagerly stepped in from the cold, his shoes crunching on the dry snow already peppering the floor, all of his rationalizations dissipated.

Every table and counter that wasn't welded to a wall had been either broken or flipped. Contraptions were smashed, books sat smoking in a pile on the floor, charred husks of what they'd once been, and blood puddled near the center of the room. Tizzle felt his own blood draining from his face as he looked back at the door, half expecting those two men to have returned. With a shiver—not that he even registered the cold anymore—he shoved the door closed behind him and looked around again.

"Sprocket?"

As though to answer his question, a small portion of air near the far wall shimmered and then the goblin mage faded back into their reality, his nose smashed and one of his ears looking as though it was barely attached.

Tizzle threw him a few healing spells as he ran over to him, catching his arm as the goblin slumped down against the wall. Sprocket stared around his shop blankly as Tizzle shook his shoulder and tried to ask him if he was alright.

Finally, the mage snapped out of it and glared at his guild mate. "Do I look like I'm fuckin' alright?" Despite Tizzle's efforts, Sprocket's ear still had a large chunk taken out of it, and the mage was running his hand over it, as though debating what kind of magic/surgery he'd need to get it repaired...if he even could.

"I saw those men leavin'...what happened?"

"What happened?" Sprocket practically spat as he jerked to his feet and stormed over to the nearest table, looking through the broken bits of machinery for anything that might still be intact. "I just had a pleasant visit from the Alliance tellin' me that if I don't cease usin' their gold ta fund Horde expeditions—which I don't—they're gonna kill you guys."

As Tizzle's jaw dropped and he floundered for something to say, Sprocket angrily swept everything off his cracked workbench. "Why us?"

Sprocket arched his eyebrows and looked back at Tizzle. "Because I won't learn my lesson if they kill me. At least...that's what they said."

Slumping to the ground and not even registering as his shoe came to rest in some of his guild mate's spilled blood, Tizzle ran his fingers down his face. "This doesn't make sense. We been runnin' raids for four years. Humans, dwarves, kaldorei...people have seen us around Impervious since Ragnaros. No one's ever said anythin' before. Or even cared. They knew if things got too tense we'd just go back to bein' neutral. Why are they gettin' so weird about things now?"

"They're sayin' the human king is back. Maybe that's why."

Tizzle blinked. "What?"

"Apparently some dragon broad kidnapped him or...somethin'. I don't really know," Sprocket began shoving debris away from a part of his floor. When it was clear, he tapped it twice and a trap door appeared with a lock. He felt his pockets for a moment and then pulled out a thin key and opened the door. Tizzle's ears perked up as he saw the amount of gold and gems and other valuables sitting just beneath his guild mate's floor. Sprocket glanced over his shoulder and gave him a warning glare as he continued talking. "Anyway, it's pretty common knowledge that the human king...Wrynn or whateva his name is, has no love for the Horde. He's probably crackin' down on anyone he thinks might be a spy."

Tizzle watched as Sprocket started filling his bags with his valuables. "But...this...this can't be good."

"No shit."

"No," Tizzle shook his head and wandered closer to his guild mate, though he stopped as Sprocket shot him another warning glare. "Somebody sent me and Wrach this thing... documentation of every damn raid we ever went ta."

"And?"

"How's Alliance gettin' that information on their own, hmm? It had everybody's names on it, not just ours." Tizzle crossed his arms as Sprocket paused in his work to stare at him slowly. "We got a bigger problem than guild stones bein' tampered with. Somebody knows we're Anonymous."

Sprocket plopped back to the ground, his hand absentmindedly stroking his money. "This doesn't make sense...somebody in the Horde woulda had ta tell them about everybody..."

"Exactly," Tizzle muttered, looking around the shop with a sudden fear that anyone—Horde or Alliance—might wander in.

Sprocket started shoveling his belongings into his bags again with more desperation. "We gotta get out of the Cartel before the Alliance decides it doesn't feel like extendin' anymore warnin's. Or...before the Horde decides they don't want us either."

Tizzle suddenly paled. "For the love of capitalism, I left Wrach alone in Booty Bay!"

~"~

Tizzle stumbled through the portal with Sprocket on his heels. The mage hadn't been willing to stay alone in Everlook and had grudgingly allowed Tizzle to help him bag his belongings so that they could get out of there faster. While Tizzle couldn't help but pocket a few of the gems, as a carrying fee, he'd been annoyed that the greedy mage hadn't been willing to part with any of his coin, so that they could gather Wrachette and head to Orgrimmar faster.

Even as they hurried across the boardwalks toward the Sprogworks Tavern, Tizzle noticed a few guards and neighbors stopping to give him pitying and sympathetic looks. He picked up his pace.

Both of them could smell smoke. As they cleared a few of the high tiers of the city, they saw it twisting lazily up into the air, blocking out a good portion of the cloudless sky. Tizzle broke out into a run, with Sprocket following closely.

As they turned the last corner, Tizzle jerked to a stop, with Sprocket nearly sending him toppling into the water as he ran into him. Even as the mage regained his balance and looked up, Tizzle took a few slow steps toward the burned out husk of his tavern.

The planks threatened to give out beneath him as he tried to run through the door, but two Bruisers caught him by the shoulders and jerked him back. As he turned toward them, he caught sight of Fidget standing off to the side, with a few of the usual drunks, all being tended by several local healers, who were more than happy to put it on their tabs.

Tizzle broke free from the guards as they offered him warnings that the fire had left the bar's floor far too weak to enter and darted up to Fidget. He looked over the others before frowning at his bartender. "Where's Wrachette?"

Fidget didn't say anything at first. Tizzle realized that it looked as though the goblin were trying not to cry. His eyes were swollen and puffy, though that could have just been from the smoke.

"Well? Where is she?"

It took another minute for Fidget to find his voice. "She...she said she was gonna go run some errands, but...she went into the back ta get some things..."

"And?" Tizzle wanted to smack the worthless goblin.

Fidget shook his head slowly. "She...the fire started before she came back out. I tried ta reach her, but..."

One of the dwarven patrons perked up slightly when he saw Tizzle ready to denounce Fidget as a lying bastard. "He did."

Fidget's shoulders slouched. "I thought...maybe she came out but I just didn't see her, yeah? Nobody's seen her." He stared down at his feet. "I'm sorry, Tizz."

With a scowl, Tizzle levitated himself, turned, and ran into the still smoking building. He ignored the smoldering tables and holes in the floor where it looked like alcohol had helped the fire burn harsher and ran straight for the back, shoving the ruined door to the side.

He didn't stop until he reached Wrachette's room...what was left of it. While he'd hope to find it empty, so as to assure himself that she hadn't been trapped—besides, she was a shaman, so she could manipulate fire, right?—the floor had fallen through and he could make out charred and disfigured shapes floating in the surf below. A diver bobbed up near what was left of his sister's bed and looked up at him, surprised to see anyone in the building overhead. The goblin offered a quick word that he hadn't found anyone in the water, and Tizzle bit his lip.

That was good, right?

He stood there helplessly for a moment before finally turning back to leave. He'd ask every damn person in Booty Bay about whether they'd seen Wrachette. Surely, someone had seen something.

As he headed back outside, he stopped in front of his office, a single color catching his eye in the midst of all the damage. The wood was little more than balanced ash around his office and it occurred to him that the fire must have started there. He floated into the doorway and over to his desk, frowning as he picked up a small scrap of cloth laying on the surface. It was soaked with something that smelled absolutely horrible...probably some kind of flame retardant.

Tizzle's ear twitched as his clasped his hand around the cloth and then stalked out of his tavern. Even as he came back out and Sprocket hurried up to him to brush off some of the soot covering his skin, Tizzle pushed him away. "We're findin' Wrachette and then we're gettin' the fuck outta this town."

He didn't wait for Sprocket to nod and hurry off before he glared toward his tavern's regulars and threw the cloth down in front of them.

It was a bold blue with the symbol of the Alliance at its center. Tizzle pointed accusingly at it as he swore at them. "The Steamwheedle Cartel is neutral! Neutral! Do ya even know what that means?" He shrieked.

As Fidget, wide-eyed, tried to calm him down, Tizzle shook his fist at the stupefied drunkards. "Your king wants to burn down my shop just because we serve Horde, too? Fine! But I ain't never gonna be a filthy Alliance dog! Ya want me ta be Horde? I'm Horde!"