| abstract
| - I have always been handy with a pen, though my short stature little belies my talents. I was born in Gnomeregan, before its fall during the Third War, and I suffered much hardship as a child; or so I am told. I cannot remember one thing before Ironforge, where I spent my childhood. My parents moved out to the outlying districts of Dun Morogh quite My father, Adrian Spindlecog, was an engineer of much renown, and an inventor nonpareil, and when I chose to follow his path in life he was greatly pleased. For many years I stayed close to home, working on my devices. At last, a profound wanderlust came over me to see the world. My grandfather had fought in the Second War, and he often spoke of it with glee. Sometimes, I felt that piloting a Flying Machine was the Goal of all life - the end-all and be-all. His words did not make it hard to believe. I knew, though, that there were other places to see, and I had never been more than twelve miles from Gnomeregan in my entire life. I packed up my bags around the age of fifty and decided that the time had come to see the world. I sold off my business to a cousin, the wealthy merchant Aquin Tweedletock, who in all likelihood has caused the little shop to more than triple its profits. I took my meager savings, packed them amongst my clothing, and set out. My first goal was Ironforge, and then, by Gnomish Tram to Stormwind. Without incident I made the journey. When I arrived in Stormwind, though I was impressed, it was not nearly as glorious as the great Ironforge had been, and my heart faltered. Perhaps the best of the world was behind me, and I was setting out to disappointment. How right I was! If I had listened to my spirit rather than my feet, I would be safe at home; perhaps even with children by now. Ah well. Life comes and goes, doors open and shut. My door home had shut behind me, and a new one had opened - a door in Elwynn Forest. I took a job designing farming equipment, which was rather lucrative before the Goblin Devices in Westfall revolted in bloodlust and madness. I made it my place to provide the farms of the whole area with machinery; and I must admit, I did my fair bit of adventuring as well. The day when my life changed forever was a chilly October morning, while I was bustling about my business in Stormwind. A letter from Aquin and my parents had just arrived, and so I made it my plan to buy a large cask of wine and have it transported home - and I would soon follow to share in a reunion with my long-missed family. I was on my way to the Tram, to return to the first time in four years to Ironforge. News of the War had reached me - the fighting had grown fierce in the north, and the word of the Fall of Lordaeron's last defenders was spreading throughout Azeroth. I had a large turkey (or, large enough, for the larger birds dwarf me; no pun intended) and I was set to see everyone again. The thought of tender moments filled my eyes with tears - in fact, there was a certain little gnome I was quite eager to see, for I was certain she had grown quite a bit in the last few years. While entering the Tram station, a human woman nearly tripped over me. When I mumbled my apologies, she said nothing, and strode onward, as if she had business that her life depended on. I was left gathering my spilt gifts from the grimy ground. Brushing it off, I hurried into the station just as it began to snow. I looked around for the woman, perhaps thinking to reprimand her, but she was gone. I grumbled to myself, thinking of the many times I had been snubbed in the past in Stormwind City - Human bankers refusing to treat me with the respect I have been due - "Would you like a stool, father?" I had heard too much to let slide again. I quickly boarded a waiting tram car, and sped off into the monument of science that is Deeprun Tram. Not mere moments later, the car jerked to a complete halt. Sparks began to rain down on my head, and, looking up, I saw that a small fissure had opened in the roof of the tunnel, jamming the tram where it was and bending the track. Loose wires, casings split, sprayed their contents all over the car. I put my hands over my head and jumped down to the rails below, hoping that a cleaning crew might find me before the rats did. Clutching my pocket watch tightly in my hand - as I often did when I had a pocket watch - I sat down on the cold floor of the tram-run and waited. It seemed to me, as I sat there, that I could hear the murmuring of distant voices. It was difficult to make them out, but there were at least two men, and perhaps a woman as well. I could not tell if there were others, but a most strident and over-riding voice was the easiest to hear. It was, of course, the voice of my Most Arrogant Master, as any who have heard him speak will attest. Once this voice reached my ears, I knew it could not be my imagination. I got to my feet and, glancing into the shadows, began to walk slowly towards the sounds. Soon I saw lights playing upon the ceiling. They were dim, and frightening. Vague shapes loomed up to block them and cast even vaguer shadows. I sucked in a deep breath and promptly turned around, having come to the decision not to interfere with whatever meeting was going on in that removed place. I watched from a distance, the sparks from the tram sizzling quietly behind me and the arguments I could not quite hear continuing before me. Oh, most foolish of moments, my awful feet betrayed me again! I felt an itching in my soles and I stood again. Perhaps they would not be so bad, I thought to myself, not considering that anyone who would go out of their way to be hidden amongst the deepest and most removed caverns in Azeroth must necessarily be plotting something unwholesome. I crept slowly forward on my hands and knees, frightened of being spotted, but more frightened of being left alone in the tunnels to be gnawed to death or slowly starve. It might be weeks before anyone found me in that place, and I could not walk all the way back to the station in my current condition. Soon I saw that the meeting, or cabal, or whatever it was, was atop one of the small service platforms on the side of the tram. A tall and imposing figure stood with his back to me, facing into the wavering lantern-light that flooded the platform. The next thing I heard was a calm cool voice, a chilly voice which I later learned belonged to a man named "Veras", announcing that there was an intruder. I did not make the connection in time. The intruder was, of course, myself. Before I could run or turn or even gasp, the tall figure whirled, revealing a face half hidden by shadow. His flinty eyes searched the passage, and at last they alighted on me. He motioned with one hand, and a shadowy figure dropped to the ground beside me, pinioning my arms behind my back without warning. My turkey fell onto the ground for a second time, this time smashed beyond recognition and free of its wax paper. I cried out in protest, as much as for my family's gift meal as for my own treatment. The figure dragged me up onto the platform, and I discovered it was the same young human who had so rudely bumped into me on my way into the station. She whirled me around until I faced the lantern, and my eyes fell upon the origins of the two voices I had heard. Two men, each of highly imposing stature, were before me. The man on my right wore a tall hat pulled down over his forehead, his grey dangerous eyes flickering from me to the woman that held me. He had a sprig of grey hair sprouting from his chin, and long flowing locks that spilled out from under his hat like a waterfall of silver. The other man had braided hair, white as well. He was slightly shorter than the first, and seemed to be much less tense. The tall man stood to my right, who I found later was the infamous Kelith Vedan; or perhaps not so infamous, as I had never heard of him before he informed me of his own exploits. The other man, Veras, was quiet. The taller of the two approached me, his flinty eyes striking sparks. "Who is this creature?" he bellowed, his voice like gravel. "Who is this spy?" I tried to squeak to him that I was not a spy, but no words would come out - my throat was closed with fear. Then the terrifying cold man moved; he put his hand on the chest of my future master and said in a still voice: "Never you mind. I will deal with him." Then he laid his hand over the hilt of his sword. I jumped, or tried to. The shadowy woman still had a powerful grip on my shoulders, so I don't suppose I moved very far. The dangerously cold man began to advance on me, a terrible look of icy lust in his eyes. My future master intervened. He looked pensively at me, raised his right hand. "Wait," he said. The chilly man known only as Veras glanced over his shoulder at the man I would soon learn to grovel before. Kelith paused and ran his hand across his face. "Can you write?" he asked me. "Write?" I squeaked, my voice like the whining of unoiled hinges. He seemed to be upset by my question. He growled a little and let out his breath in one of those telltale hisses that he had picked up somewhere along the journey of his life. Flustered, I cracked my knuckles nervously, forgetting that I still held my watch in my hand. I heard the casing dent. "Yes!" I yelled without intending to. "Yes, I can write!" My Master nodded. "Good," he said. "Hit him Veras, but not too hard." The last surprise in a night of surprises, I only managed to eek out a whuffing noise as, like a bruise, darkness spread before my eyes.
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