Lucinther heald up a cup of tea to the gnome. "It'll help the headache. Not generally our policy to keep people chained up in the guild hall, but I'm sure a rogue such as yourself could understand the circumstances. Given by the array of devices you had on you, I'd say you were a goblin engineer. I haven't meant many gnomes who practice with such. What is your name?"
The gnome looked at the cup of tea, then looked up at the rogue, then back at the tea. He leaned forward and took a sip from the outstretched cup.
He straightened up slightly, "People call me 'Squigvicious.' And yes, you have deduced correctly about my profession." He leaned forward and took another sip of the tea. It had a soothing quality to it. He had considered the possibility that it could be drugged in some way, apart from any medicinal remedies. He supposed he'd have to take that chance. If they wanted to kill him, they would have done it much sooner.
The old orc wandered into the room following the noise, quickly surveying the situation. Wordlessly he walked over, scooped up the gnome's broken device, his scattered engineering parts, goggles, and other metal knick knacks. He ignored the knives, poisons, and other things. The old orc's pink tallstrider ran in a bit later, excited by the noise and circling the gnome carefully, with quiet chirps - talking to himself.
Taking his haul to the kitchen table, his calloused hands delicately unwrapped his own well-used tool kit and began poking at the gnome's pile carefully.
'Yeah, goblin technology. So unreliable."
He poked at it and, unable to help himself, he quickly replaced the power source with a gnomish design, changed out the bolts for a better metal, and set the device whirring in place on the table before he spoke again.
He looked at Lucinther. "I should get the tree to come confirm, but this is a listening device, the parts to work it, and one of the worst excuses for a power source I have seen in a long time.
"We have ourselves a spy."
Lucinther smirked. "Well, thats good to know." He turned back to the gnome. " Why did you leave the note? Who sent you? Why are you trying to listen to our conversations?" He walked around behind the gnome and knelt down beside him, half whispering in his ear. "... and judging by your behavior... you're not a gnome.... What are you?" He smirked again, still whispering. " Given the gadgets and the shoddy engineering and your overall demeanor, my vote is goblin."
The gnome stiffened, overhearing the insults. He forced himself to relax. What the orc said was true, bombs were goblin's strongpoint, not silly devices that had no use.
He listened to the rogue and tried to sort out all the questions. "I suppose I do have a bit of explaining to do."
"To answer the orc's statement, yes, I am a spy." He waited a moment for the blade to pierce his heart. "About a year ago, I volunteered to find out what was going on on the Alliance side of things. I am part of a very small, covert group of goblins who feel that, based on predictions through the market, that the Alliance may be getting the upper hand in the fight for Azeroth. Now, I am a firm believer in an equal market opportunity, so I suggested that we speak with representative from the Horde to possibly come up with a solution. We met with some folks from Silvermoon and Undercity and eventually (to make a long story short) decided to have someone find out exactly what the Alliance would be doing to sway the market so badly. (To make an even longer story shorter) I decided to volunteer to be the one to spy on the Alliance. First I would have to gain their trust, and we all knew that while the Alliance was willing to trade with us, they certainly were not willing to negotiate their plans of war with us. I would have to go undercover."
Squigvicious tilted his head to either side, stretching his neck. "To protect their neutrality, I will use made up names for my friends....We'll call them...Lugnut, Splug, and Bicklebrin. Lugnut, by the way, is the one who made the listening device. It works fine for short periods of time, but I must have had it on too long. Anyway, Splug said he had a way of getting me on the inside. He didn't say I would be crawling inside the skin of a dead gnome and have to drink a potion to help round out my features. He gave me the antidote to the potion's effects, but due to the rare quality of the ingredients, the potion cannot be remade. The skin is interlaced with a unique hydrating device, to keep it's ... plumpness and elasticity, and to keep it from rotting. Honestly, I'd have thought that you dead guys woulda figgured that out by now."
Squigvicious stretched again, this time bending his body to the side. "Due to their proclaimed neutrality, I was able to keep in touch with my friends, and have any adjustments made to the suit. It took many months for me to be able to get close enough to the leaders. That device, was of much help," Squigvicious indicated the listening device. "And a few others. It wasn't until recently that I had found out information that would sober up your drunk uncle. To answer your first question, Mr. Dead guy, the reason why I left the note was to determine whether or not I could trust you and your friends. By listening to your reactions, would determine whether or not you could be entrusted with the information that I have gathered and make sure that the right people got it. So," Squigvicious said, looking each of the surrounding in the eye, "are you the ones I can trust?"
He glanced around the others around the room. " Thats too good of a story to be made up...." He smirked again as he started to unchain and unshackle the "gnome". "I'm going to let you go... you try to run or try to harm anyone in this hall," He inclined his head towards Aracna as he worked, "She'll put an arrow in you before you can reach the door.... ... don't think about vanishing, either. You won't be able to hide from me."
Once his work was finished he pointed towards the kitchen. "Food and drink.... take what you want. For now, you are welcome here, since it seems we have a lot to discuss."
She keeps a wary eye on the visiter. That was quite an explination..and a...Gnome "suit". ewwww.
Phoronid just sat at the table and rubbed his temples wearily.
"I will never understand goblins."
He just sat and watched the interaction, not really having a clear grasp of the economics and alchemy involved.
Squigvicious stretched his arms, slowly. After careful examination of his wrists, he hopped off the chair. "Kitchen's that way?"
Lucinther nodded.
The gnome went towards the kitchen then paused to check his image in the looking glass. His green spiked mohawk was still as tidy as ever. He adjusted his goggles and straightened up his white and gray tabard with the design of his adopted guild. He licked his finger and fixed the stray hair of his curled mustache. After checking that everything else was in place, he entered the kitchen and helped himself to an orange on the table. "Tell me, Mr. Dead Guy," he called, then lowered his voice seeing him standing in the doorway, "when's the last time you've been to your home country?"
He walked over to the orc's workbench and examined the devices on the table, reverently holding the orange a foot away from the edge of the table, and standing on his toes to get a better look.
Phoronid fought back an instinct to stick a sharp weapon into the gnome's head as he looked down at the... goblin? He then thought about the politely placed orange which was not dripping on his work and shrugged.
"I added a new power core and fixed some of the shoddy workmanship.", he commented, handing the device back to the gno...goblin. "It should help you if you are really on a neutral... economic... side of this war."
The old orc glanced over at Lucinther. "I am sure your activities will be watched, in case you misuse this. As scary as he is, he is much scarier when you cannot see him." He turned back to the pile, analyzing any use of this particular assortment of bits and bobs. After a few seconds, he swept the pile into a small bag and handed it to the gob-gnome.
Melikar listened to the peculiar story and watched with some amusement.
"Ah be mo'ah interested in what da goblin gotta say 'bout de Alliance plans..." He gave a curt nod, loose strands of his ruby hair spilling over his shoulders and back. He had kept his hair in a rough ponytail for so long it was beginning to grow out of its form. Also, a slightly darker red hair was beginning to grow along the troll's chin as of late.
"Ah be wonderin' iffin' all dis talk from Camp "T" be true." He said, one hand playing with a golden loop earring in his left ear. "About de Alliance movin' t'rough Duskwood an' all dat. An' a' course anyt'in' else ya know..."
" If I had a home, I could answer that question." he turned and walked back to his usual spot in the far corner of the room, sitting halfway in the shadowy corner so that only part of his body could be seen. " You still haven't told us exactly why you are here."
Anca stayed up in the shadows of Skrap's shop, high up in the rafters, and peered down on the proceedings. The scents on the "gnome" were all wrong, as none matched her idea of "gnome." Until she could figure this thing out, she would just watch.
Squigvicious, realizing that he was on dangerous ground, stepped away from the workbench. "That one there is interesting. I personally would have used a micro-chronomitor for a timing device but it tends to fail after a few times." He looked over his shoulder at the orc. "Anyway, I can't see how that would be..." He trailed off as the troll spoke up.
"Yes, well, the threat is very real." He took a bite out of the orange, "They have set up a secret location that not even I was able to find out, and discussed sending troops there via a transporter. Even the location of the transporter has been kept a secret."
"To answer your question, Mr. Dead Guy, I came here to warn you of a bigger threat. I asked if you'd been to your homelands, which I had assumed was the area surrounding Undercity. What I found out is that a covert team of the Alliance's scientific researchers have been conducting experiments...and I'm afraid to say they have been successful. You've heard of Arugal and his clans right? Who hasn't. Well, they've managed to combine those dogs with some unfortunate test subjects. Local farmers, peasants, you know, people who won't be missed so much.....I can see that you are familiar with that name," he said, referring to his earlier mention of 'Arugal'.
"You're probably thinking that they haven't figured out a way for the wolf-men to keep their intelligence or sanity when they changed into the beast. I will tell you, as a witness, that your thoughts would be wrong. I watched as some of them went through some training exercises, and they hunted with the prowess and ferocity of any thinking, reasoning being. I watched as they viciously cut down experienced warriors, and as they feasted on their bodies. Those they chose not to consume became afflicted with the...disease, for lack of a better word." The gnome looked down at the orange. "There's a wall at the southern-most part of the forest. Surely you've seen it? Behind that wall, they've established a village for these...experiments. I hardly believed it myself, so I decided to check it out. There are hundreds of them. I can only image what they might be capable of. Most of them looked as if they were still on the young and inexperienced side. I went into the village during the morning hours when most of them slept in their human forms. I found out from several conversations that they call themselves the Greymane Worgen and that their leader is Genn Greymane and his successor Liam Greymane."
"They've formed what they call the Gilneas Liberation Front led by Lord Darius Crowley. There was much talk of it in the village and there was much talk of attacks on you Dead Guys. I was not able to gain further information. I had been listening in and staying in the shadows, when I believe one of the worgen caught my scent, so I retreated. I was climbing back over the wall, when it grabbed me by the leg. I knew that it was either him or me. I drew my weapons and attacked. He tried to bite me, but I dodged out of his reach. I was able to dispatch him, but not before he gave me this." Squigvicious pulled off his goggles. Beneath, was a diagonal scar, starting at the bridge of his nose and cutting downward and diagonally through his right eye. "Fortunately, the disease cannot be contracted through their claws," he added quietly.
Squigvicious carefully replaced his goggles and adjusted a few of the levers. Once again, the goggles took on their pinkish glow. He looked around at those gathered in the room. "Look, I'm a bit spooked, as well. And honestly, I would have liked to stay a bit longer to gather more information, but when you got a big hair beast almost three times your size breathing down your neck, you don't stop to interview him. You guys are looking at me as if I've made up some kind of fairy tale nonsense."
Rincewindy stood up, placing the dusty tome off to the side. He stretched out his bones, and walked over to the little gnome. "I would say there is nothing to fear, little one. You seem to have forgotten the gigantic wall that separates the city of Gilneas from the rest of the world. I also believe that's how both parties like it. We don't bother them, they don't bother us. The Sons of Arugal that roam around our forests are harmless enough. How, did you manage the climb anyway?"
Squigvicious went over to his pack and pulled out a couple of metal spikes and a hammer and held them up. "Look, it's your life. Personally, I like doing business with you dead people, but if I have to make do with negotiating with a fuzzball with stability issues, so be it. Perhaps the market for flea repellent might go up." He let out a heavy sigh and started to put his belongings back into his bags. If there are no further questions, I know where the door is, or are you still determined to keep me as a prisoner?