Horny Orc Walks Into a Bar...

Varian Wrynn was not a patient man. In fact, one could almost say he was prone to grumpiness when kept waiting. If Shaw wasn't the best intelligence officer in SI:7, he would have separated the man's head from his body years ago. Still, such frequent tardiness often made Wrynn feel his tolerance waning.

Seated at an ornate wooden table in an anteroom of the palace, the king brooded. Reports were flooding in from all over the Eastern Kingdoms of one skirmish after another involving Horde soldiers. Just a few weeks ago, there was a serious breech in their defenses when a pack of orcs led by one Kurtok the Slayer overran the Alliance position at Northshire Abbey, nearly advancing as far as Goldshire before reinforcements were able to push them back.

What did it matter that the Blackrock clan claimed no allegiance to the Horde? They were orcs. That was enough.

Tensions were high throughout Azeroth, and had been for the last few years following Deathwing's emergence. There was tremendous chaos caused by the land's upheaval: the shifting of borders and coastlines, the destruction in such places as Ashenvale and Darkshore, the devastation in the Badlands, the draining of the lake in Loch Modan, the flooding of the Thousand Needles... Now there were reports that the lands held by the Horde in Kalmindor were depleted of their resources, that though Durotar now sported a great deal more water than it had before, the desert gave way to fetid, noisome swamps, and was in no way an improvement.

As a leader, he could understand the new Warchief's plight. People displaced by disaster were desperately trying to scrape together their lives and survive. To do so required lumber for building, game for meat, lands for farming, potable water in abundance. But these violent forays into Ashenvale were unacceptable. The base camp overlooking Astranaar was an insult and a slap in the face. The sacking of Silverwind Refuge was considered an act of war by the night elves, and Wrynn had to agree.

The only good fortune he could see in all of this was that the majority of the upheaval was on the other continent. He didn't have the same level of worry on his own doorstep that Tyrande Whisperwind and Prophet Velen suffered. For that, he could be grateful.

At least, that's what he would be if he didn't have Mathias Shaw coming any moment now with some sort of urgent report from an agent in Booty Bay.

Sighing, the king rose and paced the small room. He was considering ordering a few guards to go find the intelligence officer when there was a knock on the door.

"Come," Wrynn said with relief. Shaw entered and bowed respectfully.

"My liege," the red-haired man said smoothly. "Forgive my lateness. I only just received my agent's report, and I was securing a tail."

The king furrowed his brow for a moment, then shook himself. Strange man. "You said you had a report. I suggest you give it. My patience wears thin."

"Yes, sir," Shaw said, inclining his head. "My man, Renzik, has a few operatives in Booty Bay who report to him from time to time about... drips and drops of information they pick up."

"Hmph," the king snorted. "More like drips and drops of beer. Go on."

"Indeed. It has come to one agent's attention that the woman who escaped the Stockade in the company of those tauren passed through there a few weeks back."

Wrynn frowned. He didn't like being reminded that his men had gloriously fouled up that little operation by not only letting a single tauren into the gods-damned city without sufficient challenge, but also let her invade and lay waste to the prison, devastate the ranks of the guards within, and then leave with a Horde spy. Excuse me, alleged spy. They hadn't had a chance to determine his purpose before he escaped. Add to that little embarrassment the disappearance in the ensuing mayhem of an apparent Horde sympathizer, and Wrynn couldn't hold his head up at dinner with the other faction leaders.

"I see," the king growled, clenching his teeth. "Did he see her with his own eyes?"

"Yes, my liege."

Wrynn counted swiftly to ten. Nope. No good. "Why was I not fucking informed before NOW?" he bellowed, slamming his fist on the table.

"He wanted to keep an eye on her...," Shaw began, but his irate monarch wasn't finished yet.

"Oh, I'll just bet he wanted to 'keep an eye on her'!" Wrynn roared. "Did he get her drunk in the bar and have his way with her, too?"

"Um... he's a gnome, sire," Shaw pointed out.

"She fucks trolls, you ass," the king snarled. "I would be shocked if she drew the line at gnomes."

"Apparently, orcs are not outside her range, either," Shaw replied, pursing his lips to hide a smile.

Wrynn rolled his eyes. "Why do you think the bitch got arrested? Damn near caught with her pants down with that... that fucking orc who your people didn't see coming until he was half way to Goldshire!"

"He sent one of his men on board the ship she took to Kalimdor," the agent informed him loudly. Shaw was no happier than his king about the humiliating oversight. When he was certain he had Wrynn's attention, Shaw lowered his voice to its previous calm. "He returned on another ship, once he learned where she was headed."

"Well?" Wrynn cried when the agent paused. "Where the fuck was she going?"

"He couldn't follow. She was taken into custody by the Kor'kron Elite and brought under guard to Orgrimmar," Shaw reported.

"That whore," Wrynn breathed. "Wait, was she imprisoned?"

Shaw winced. "No, my liege. She emerged in the company of... of a troll, and traveled to the Echo Isles with him. It is difficult for our agents to get into that area without being discovered. They're watching the traffic to and from the islands, but as far as we know, she's still there."

Nodding, the king snarled, "Great. That's just fucking great. Any more wonderful news for me?"

"Actually, sire, the ship she took... had an interesting event occur upon its return to Booty Bay."

"I can hardly wait," Wrynn muttered.

"One of the deckhands jumped ship," Shaw said. "Went ashore for good, so they say."

"So?"

"He's an orc, sire," the agent said significantly. "Not only that, but it appears he spent a considerable amount of the voyage to Ratchett... 'in her good graces,' shall we say?"

Wrynn reached up to worry a pain forming between his eyes. "Leave off with the delicate descriptions. He was fucking her. I get it. So what?"

"I find it rather suspicious, sir," Shaw remarked patiently. He often had to put the pieces together for his king. He was used to it. "This woman shows obvious sympathies toward the Horde. She is broken out of prison by members of the Horde. She is now ensconced with the Horde, receiving training in Horde battle strategies. During her trip west, she spent private time with a man whose race makes up the majority of the Horde, and that man has now departed from his position on board a neutral ship, and travels north, sire. He's coming this way."

Now Wrynn was staring at him with alarm.

"One more bit of interesting information, my liege," Shaw said. "He's one of those brown-skinned Mag'har from Draenor." Smiling, he said pointedly, "He comes from the same village as the Warchief."

References to Diary of a Mad Gamer Chick:

Kurtok the Slayer - unthwarted from advancing in chapter 7
Daring escape from the Stockade - managed in chapter 9
Troll fucked in chapter 4... and 15
Orc fucked (Fentulk!) in chapters 11 and 12