Through the shining sun reflecting off the top of the walls of theramore was a staff, its not the staff that was the interesting thing, it was what was holding is...
A gnome...a rather unusual one at that, Councillor Siheld of the Stormwind council was here to inspect what was going on and to take a full detailed report from Sergeant Cantor but at the same time he was waiting for the Sergeant, he was grinning...
Off in the distance was an un-mistakeable figure clad in black spiked shoulder pads, the councillor picked up a spyglass and peered off into the distance and shuddered as he swore he saw the figure wink at him!
He returned to his corner of the wall where he kept his back against for the past half hour and listened to the beautiful sound of the waves striking against the ever enduring landmass of Kalimdor as Militia were busily running around the walls:
The North-west wall! The North-west wall!
But the shrieks of commands were nothing compared to what was coming from the Barracks:
Where the hell is that ointment? I thought i asked that boy to bring more ointment! These burns won't disappear of their own will!
It was Dascombè, only this time he was playing a different role from his postmaster alternate...
The yellow goggles mimiced that of the brightest of Lightforge whilst his Militia armour was dented and bloody he continued to treat the wounds of the man in front of him, who turned out to be Cantor.
This stuff may taste unbelievably foul but i'm sure it'll make you feel better
Upon hearing this news Cantor hesitated after being given concotion after concotion and he swore he heard this latest one bubble...
Ignore that, its just the Goblin Rocket fuel
What?!
Oh, nothing......WHERE IS THAT DAMN ARMOUR BOY?!
More and more Militants were coming and going despite the group of Blood elves stubbornly peppering the walls with arrows, with their high priest delivering shadowy burns upon all who tried to fire from upon the wall.
Then a yell eminated from the barracks once more, for once, not directed towards the young apprentice armourer:
Bah, this is what we need high-elven archers for![i]
[i] Hey! Watch what your doing with that damn ointment!
Dascombè turned round to see Miss Hafwen's irritated hand...and now irritated look...
Bit hard to concentrate with these damn elves running around trying to kill us
He turned round to fetch more unusual looking ointments and Hafwen's suspicion hightened.
errr, is there any reason why Cantor was walking out gripping his stomach when it was his shoulder that had an arrow in it?
Dascombe faltered and reached for a different bottle, one with a rather pungent green liquid in it that smelled like troll sweat.
Hafwen's face turned white.
Its alright, Troll's sweat has regenerative properties
but its only a skin irritation on my hand! Its not like i've lost it!
Dascombè proceeded to pour the foul liquid into a hip-flask and turned towards Hafwen, then a scream was heard.
Victory to the Militia! We've driven them off!
Hafwen ran out of the ward in relief as Dascombè turned round to inspect the potion.
Oh my goodness, this is my de-natured plague sample! That would have been an unusual case...
He shrugged and replaced the bottle into his toolbox and walked out of the barracks...
And into a new day...
Wed Jun 04 2008, 14:18