The salty air of the sea filled the dim cabin as Ironcaster bent over his notes, searching and sorting through the mass of parchment and ink creations. Candlelight flickered, slightly illuminating the room, fighting off the dark of night. Ironcaster scribbled furiously on one of the notes, then placed it in another pile before reaching towards his other quill.
A knock at the door made him jump, "Excuse me, sir?" Jonathan Pinta stood in the doorway holding a few plates on a wooden tray. "Thought you might like dinner." He crossed to the table and sat the tray in the small are not covered in papers.
"Ah, yes. Thank you Jon." Pym reached to a glass of milk, gulping it to subdue his massive thirst. He looked back down and continued his work diligently as the two sat in silence.
Jon fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair as he ate. Finally, he spoke, "Work for the Order?"
Ironcaster grunted in affirmation, "Letters to mail, reports to file." He folded his parchment and slid it into an envelope, stamping it with the dripping hot wax that he warmed in his hand. The stamp was a skull in the deep blue splatter.
Pinta began eating the salted venison jerky slowly, eyeing the contents of Ironcaster's mess. "Classified information?" He said almost jokingly.
"Yes." The answer was short and gruff, decisive. Finally, Pym set his quill down and looked outside to the clouded darkness. "Seems about time for sleep." He muttered, squinting. "We'll see Theramore at first light tomorrow." And as his words hit Pinta's ears, the mage had gone in a flash. As had everything he had been working on.
***
"Unsuccessful?!" Sumer Ev'ra boomed from his chambers. "The attempt was Unsuccessful?!" His anger was climbing with each word he shouted. High General Patrick Seeple stood at attention across from his livid master.
"I'm sorry, sir, but apparently there was some… Interference… from Jaina Proudmoore." His head slumped as he stared at the floor.
"Nozdormu damn you!" Ev'ra flung his divining orb from the desk. It shattered instantaneously in a puff of green smoke. "Where is the Worgen now?" His voice was now regaining its silky smooth texture.
Seeple sighed, "We're not sure. Seems he made a deal with Proudmoore. If he left Theramore, the officials would not pry into his 'business.' He took the deal."
"Of course he took the deal you idiot!" His composure was having difficulty reasserting itself. "Forget it. Forget this whole ordeal. Time is on our side, Patrick." He gazed out the large window, sighing. "The flow of space and time will allow our paths to cross again, and then I will exact my revenge."
Patrick Seeple nodded modestly, "Of course, sir."
Ev'ra turned back to Seeple, "Very well, Patrick. Let me be." He sat at his desk, "Finite no more."
"Finite no more," Returned the General, bowing before exiting Ev'ra's chambers. The door squeaked shut, locking Ev'ra alone in his seething frustration. Nozdormu would grant a second encounter. He would allow Ev'ra his revenge. His service had earned it.
***
"I do appreciate the pardon, Milady." Robert Cawl stood at the steps of Proudmoore's tower. The rain was pouring, crashing upon the ground with such ferocity that the sound was deafening. "I'll be headin' out now, you won't have to worry about anymore visitors." He flashed his signature smile at the unimpressed Jaina Proudmoore.
"Very well, Cawl. I hope to not have to encounter these circumstances again." She turned in a whip of her robe and disappeared inside her tower. She sure was a looker.
His goodbyes spoken and his business wrapped up, Cawl shouldered what little he owned and turned to the dock. He would journey to the Eastern Kingdoms this dawn, and he would find yet another city to call his home, and he would settle there for months until he was forced to move again. Such was the life of a drifter, one he had handled just find for the years he had done it.
He charged through the wind and rain as he ventured across the wooden planks, greeting the ship as it slowly entered the dock. The ship slowed to a halt as the few passengers waited to leave, baggage in hand. Theramore sure was attracting an odd group nowadays. Two gnomes of different strides began stepping down off the boat, shrugged up against the storm. They began to walk quickly from the boat as a few dockhands handled their horses. These gnomes were big wigs, alright. Not everyone had their mounts handled by the dockhands, much less managed a boat ride alone without waiting for the accumulation of a full load of passengers.
The gnomes were almost off the dock when the older, slightly taller one stopped dead about two yards from Cawl. He squinted and frowned, his small face shriveling in a quizzical analysis of Cawl's features. Finally, the gnome dropped his bags and offered his small hand up to Cawl, walking briskly to meet him, "Robert Cawl?" His voice was surprisingly deep for his small stature.
Cawl peered down at the gnome in scrutiny, "Who's asking?" He was slow to offer his hand after the events of the last few days.
The gnome sighed slightly before gesturing to himself and his partner, "I am Pym Ironcaster, High Council member of the Phantom Hand. This is Jonathan Pinta, my personal guardian." He looked back up to Cawl in expectation.
Something in Cawl's mind rang a bell, "Phantom Hand?" He bit his lip slightly, "Wait a sec, I've heard of you guys. Aren't you supposed to be secret? Isn't it pointless to give away your allegiance?"
Pym frowned, looking at Jonathan for a moment, "I don't understand, you've already been in contact with one of our members, Anu'Rak." He said.
"Anu'Rak?" The troll, it had to be the troll. What did they want with him? "Sounds like a troll name. Can't say it rings a bell."
Ironcaster shook his head, "Alright, I know this game. You're a knife for hire, a rogue, a thug." He smiled grimly, "You can't give away your employers, am I correct?"
He's good. "How about you tell me exactly what you want, little man?" Better to get to the point, the boat was setting sail soon
Pym breathed deep, "Our guild has an interest in what you know. Therefore, I'll offer a little of what we know." He looked Cawl in the eye, a mystical lock preventing the drifter from looking away. "We know you are a Worgen, and we know that you escaped Gilneas while the Greymane is still in full integrity. We know that you attempted to assassinate Sumer Ev'ra as paid to do by the Troll Anu'Rak."
Cawl stopped for a moment, mulling the situation over. "You know an awful lot, gnome." He paused for a moment, "An awful lot more than I'm comfortable with."
Pym offered his hand again, "Why don't you come with us? We can offer you temporary refuge from the law in return for your knowledge regarding Ev'ra and his kingdom."
Cawl snickered, "You'd offer refuge to a criminal for info on a blood elf's groupies?"
Pym shook his head, "Not exactly…"
***
"This is not up for debate, Alquarian!" The representative of the Kirin Tor shouted. "We are not going to get involved in the Kingdom's business, just as they stay out of ours. No matter their atrocities that you claim, we hold no official power, and we will not launch an investigation."
Wibus Alquarian sighed, stopping at the foot of the path. "That is a shame, Charles. I feel that the Kirin Tor is ignoring a major problem." He stared out at the horizon as the sun began to set. "The Kingdom is biding time-"
"Something they seem good at. Biding time. Eventually you'll realize, just as we have, that they simply will do nothing." The mage strode to the shaman standing at the shore of the lake. "Believe me, Wibus, if we thought Ev'ra was up to anything more than bullying some small organizations, we would deal with it."
"I have a hard time trusting your words." Wibus motioned to the shaman, then pointed to the opposite shore. The shaman nodded, then waved an arm around the mage. The air seemed to shiver for a moment with a golden wave. "But, if there is nothing I can do to convince you, I can only say it was a pleasure, and stop by any time the desire strikes you."
The mage smiled, "I will remember. I do enjoy the small vacation to your island, Wibus." He stepped to the shore, "Though I do sometimes wonder whether the walk will be successful." He stopped as they enjoyed a laugh, then continued back to the shore, striding across the water with ease.
When he had left sight, Wibus turned to the shaman, "I need to speak with you, Gaddock. Gather the Guard, tonight we must meet in the Central Hall."
"Of course, sir." The tauren nodded. Wibus stood for a moment, thinking, then disappeared in a flash of smoke. A small bird flew to the top of the tower, disappearing into the window.
***
"You're offering me a spot in your club?" Robert Cawl sat in the cabin of the ship that was now headed to the Eastern Kingdoms.
"It's not that simple," Ironcaster sat across from him. He was leaned forward onto the table, his chin on his clasped hands, his robe wrapped tight around him in the cold. "We can offer you a place with the Phantom Hand, as a sort of protection from Ev'ra's wrath. However, this privilege comes with certain restrictions."
Cawl glanced to the door where Pinta stood, facing the table with his arms crossed. "Do I get my own bodyguard?" He said, grinning.
Pinta raised an eyebrow, "You know I can hear you, right?" His posture stiffened.
Cawl smiled, "Ah, who needs it?" He leaned back in his chair, tossing his feet onto the table. "So about these restrictions…"
Ironcaster thought for a moment. "You have to follow through with our beliefs, Cawl. We have a set of values that we strive to uphold, and being affiliated with us requires you follow these beliefs." He broke his gaze, searching for something in his satchel. He retrieved a leather-bound book, pulling it from his pile of papers and setting it on the desk. The leather was a dark blue, an otherworldly light seemed to reflect of the smooth surface. "This is the tome we live by." He slid it towards Cawl. "Everything we hold dear is in this book."
Cawl grinned, staring at the book. "It would suck if something happened to it, then?"
"We have other copies made since its creation." Ironcaster sighed.
"Of course." He picked up the book, thumbing through the pages. "I'm not too sure about this. I make my living off of killing, you know?" He slipped the book into his pocket.
"I am well aware of your profession." Ironcaster folded his arms, "I'm not saying your talents won't be useful to our cause. One of our creeds is the death of one can prevent the deaths of many."
"Convenient." Cawl stretched his arms over his head, yawning. "It will take some time before I know what I'm gonna do. Now what about our next stop? You think Ev'ra is gonna appreciate us bustin' into his place?"
"Oh, I have no doubt that Ev'ra will be less than happy to see you with us, Robert," Ironcaster said, "However, this is not our first meeting with Ev'ra and his council."
Cawl smiled, shaking his head, "You ain't careful, it could be your last."
[END]