Trials of Azeroth

Chapter 4

The two griffons swooped down over the mountains surrounding the cove and glided down into the griffon roost. From the air, Hwinion's first impression of the town wasn't what he had suspected. The aroma of alcohol, blood, sweat and smoke filled the air. In and around the town, an uneasy, unspoken truce between the Horde and Alliance was in effect, as it had been since the town's formation. Members of both factions stumbled drunkenly through the system of wooden walkways, staring down each other as they walked. Goblin bouncers dressed in leather garb and armed with clubs patrolled the streets, only intervening in anything in excess of a gun fight. Smashed glass, bodily fluids and trash littered the 'streets', with countless arrows embedded in the buildings. It seemed a surreal place.

The two stepped off of their winged mounts and exited the Southern Skies Platform. They walked cautiously down the ramp and into the town itself.
"Alright, keep your head down and do not, do not, make eye contact. If you get noticed, simply walk on and say nothing. Understand?" Informed Codin, keeping one hand on his sword at all times.
"Yes." Replied Hwinion, nodding and gulping. They walked past two goblin bouncers, acknowledging them with awkward smiles and nods.
"So who's this fella we're looking for?" Asked Codin, keeping a watchful eye out in front of them. Down the street an Orc and Dwarf were having a drunken punch up, much to the amusement of the guards. The two decided not to head that way.
"He's a gnome Mage that goes by the name of Gonlink Steamcrank, but people just call him 'Fizzbiscuit'. Last time I saw him, he had grey hair and a scraggly, unkept beard." Explained the elf, clearly uncomfortable with his surroundings.
"I see. So why do people call him 'Fizzbiscuit'?" Codin questioned, fairly amused at the name.
"It's a long story." Replied Hwinion.
"Well you better tell it quick." Stated the warrior, as they were about to pass a larger than average Tauren with a great axe strapped to his back.
"Apparently, back when he was a battle mage in the Iron Forge guard during the war, he thought it would be funny to lace his sergeant's supper with boom powder." He explained.
"Ah I see."
"Long story short, he nearly killed his sergeant and he was discharged from his duties."
"He sounds like a fun chap."
"Fun isn't exactly the word I would use. Eccentric, perhaps." Admitted the elf.

After navigating their way through the bay without a scratch on either of them, the two made it to the courtyard outside of the Salty Sailor Tavern, which was world renowned for all the wrong reasons. Outside, next to a stack of crates and barrels, stood a crowd of people gathering in a circle around a gang of Horde and a small gnome clad in a purple robe. Shouts, rowdy laughter and curses rang out from the crowd. The two moved in to investigate. As it happened, an old, grey gnome was partaking in a game of ball and cup with 2 burly orcs warriors and withered undead warlock.
"So gentlemen, the rules are simple. I place this ball under one of these three cups. All you have to do is keep your eyes on the cup that holds the ball. I wager you that if I win, you owe me 10 gold. If I lose, you can take anything of mine you want! Easy!" Giggled the gnome. The two orcs smiled and laughed gormlessly. The undead warlock remained unflinching.
"Is that it?! Sounds easy, dunnit' Grom?" Laughed the larger of the two.
"Huhuhuh, sure does." Grinned his companion.
"So, do we have a deal?" Asked the gnome, holding out his hand.
"Deal!" Replied Grom, engulfing his opponents hand with his.

The gnome then set about with the game. He held up the ball, showed it slowly to his opponents and the crowd and placed it under the middle cup. With a second spared, he started the game. He spun the cups around the deck fast and frantically, creating a blur of motion where they would have been. Suddenly he stopped, stared down the orcs and undead, and resumed as fast as he had stopped. The heads of the orcs followed as best they could, but they were hopelessly outmatched. Eventually, the gnome stopped and finally spoke up.
"Choose wisely, gentlemen." He smirked. The two orcs were rendered speechless.
"Uhhhhh, that one!" Pointed the first Orc. The gnome lifted the cup to reveal nothing underneath it.
"Bad luck, friends. Pay up."

They reluctantly forked over the gold, and stupidly, asked for a rematch. The gnome complied, more than happily. The process repeated itself over and over again, until they were fuming and almost out of gold. The undead, who hadn't said a word, finally acted. Visibly annoyed at the small mindedness of his companions, he stormed over to the gnome and in one swift movement, knocked over all 3 cups. The crowd let out a gasp. There was no ball to be seen. The gnome smiled and laughed awkwardly, as the ball was lifted out of his sleeve by a spherical blue magical property.
"Hehe... Rematch?" He laughed. Everyone fell silent. Hwinion and Codin both cringed simultaneously.

"Get 'im, Drak!" Yelled Grom. The Orc stood up, raised his gargantuan green fist and strode over to the gnome, who was engulfed in his shadow. He laughed awkwardly once again.

"I'll take that as a no?"
"Enough of your games, gnome."
He cocked his fist back and was about to bring it down on the gnome, before a bottle shattered over his head. The orcs eyes rolled back into his head and he fell flat onto his face, out cold. Codin stood behind him with the other half of the broken bottle in his hand, smirking proudly. Chaos ensued. Suddenly, the Horde and Alliance spectators erupted into a fist fight. Grom went for Codin, the undead for Hwinion. The warlock lashed out at Hwinion with his talon-like fingers. The elf blocked with ease and followed up with a flurry of punches to the face and a round house kick to the ribs. The weakly undead crumpled under the sheer speed and force of the attack, and crawled away from the brawl on his hands and feet.

Meanwhile, Grom was bearing down on the human warrior with full force. Swinging blow after blow, he came dangerously close to knocking Codin clean out. All he could do was run back and back, trying to get some distance. He retreated as far as he could, until his back hit a tall wooden pole. Grom closed in. He had nowhere to run. Suddenly, Codin realised what he had backed up against. He looked up and saw a makeshift crane, built for lowering rowing boats into the water. Acting intuitively, he began to climb. He scurried to the top, narrowly avoiding a punch from Grom that nearly split the pole in half. He then grabbed onto the pulley and kicked off from the pole, swinging around 360 degrees and landing a double footed kick into the back of the orc's head, allowing momentum to do the work. It was more than enough to send the mighty Grom rocketing off the walkway and into the water down below.

As the brawl grew in size and intensity, both Hwinion and Codin made their way over to greet the gnome that had caused this riot. They found him taking cover behind a barrel of booze, outside of the Salty Sailor. The elf approached the gnome to introduce himself and and his colleague.
"Fizzbiscuit." He greeted, none too happy.
"Oh...afternoon, Hwinion."