| abstract
| - Have You Seen Me? is a quest received from the Mages' Collective Job Board in Denerim. In Thedas, many perils await the unwary mage. Mages' Collective members try to look out for one another. A member of the Collective, Renold, has not been seen for quite some time, and there is much consternation. A sleuth is sought to solve this mystery.
- It wasn't possible, was it? It shouldn't have been. Keeping an eye on Berlshenk was easy. He never went anywhere dangerous, never went to places unknown, nor ever strayed into dangerous places off the road. For something such as a kidnapping to happen to him was unthinkable. For years Berlshenk had served Ironforge. For years he had fought and battled, gained experience, commanded dozens and dozens of troops in and out of the field of battle and forged great friendships from all over the world. And now, he was at the mercy of his captors, whoever they are. In the Explorer's Hall, left from the Great Forge, stands a house with a large staircase. Within the house is a table, an office desk, a bed, a few bookcases, and some bits of other interesting stuff. However, any signs of life are not present. This is Barzik's office, and being out of the office meant something was happening. The Military Ward was crowded with dozens and dozens of Dwarves. However, the Dwarves were armored to the teeth while others were chattering to themselves about what the fuss was about. These people were of the Mountainguard. Several officers were chattering about near the stairway into the war quarter. It seems something urgent had come up due to the amount of high-ranking officials present. The talk ceased when a Dwarf clad in red and black plated armor came trouncing out of the war quarter. A few inches away from the Dwarf was a Dark Iron in red and black leather armor with goggles tightly strapped to his face. It was Barzik and Beln, respectively. The officers backed themselves to the sides to allow the two through. They said nothing, inquired nothing, and murmured nothing. Barzik was in a pissy mood and any attempt to converse with him would result with a hammer up the ass. Barzik stopped right above the first step of the stairs and looked around. All the soldiers went silent and had their full attention to the commander. No interruptions would occur at this point. Barzik pounded a fist in a hand, the sound of plate on plate resonating angrily through the Military Ward. The sounds of the forges, anvils, and lava stopped almost fearfully for a few minutes, then resumed their orchestra of work. This never happened before. Something must be terribly wrong with Barzik today. “Listen up soldiers!” Barzik shouted angrily, echoes bouncing off the walls. “We’ve got a crisis so you better listen good ‘er I’ll fuckin’ whip the lot of ya!” Full attention. No one spoke, no one murmured, no one looked around. All eyes were on Barzik and they stayed at him. The summoning of all Mountainguard troops has not happened in a long time so this meeting was something important to focus on. Barzik scanned the area once more and then began once more: “You are all great soldiers, I have to admit. I believe yer the fuckin’ finest of all the other guards in this whole damn world! Who do you have to thank? The lovin’ son of a gun that’s known as Berlshenk I tell ya! If it wasn’t fer him, you’d all be slack-jawed Troggs still!” Much of the soldiers nodded, others cheered and clanged their weapons and shields in superfluous excitement. Several others raised their fists up high and roared. Unfortunately, the news was not of good intention. Gatherings such as this in the Mountainguard were scarce, and were to only inform of dread news that had occurred. Barzik slammed a fist in a hand again, quelling the cheers abruptly. The sounds throughout Ironforge stopped again and then returned a minute later. Something was terribly wrong, obviously. Barzik started again, “While we’re all grateful fer his experience ‘n trainin’, this ain’t no celebration fer his care! What the fuck do ya think this gatherin’s fer!?” Everyone suddenly had a grim expression on their face. Some felt they knew what was about to be told, others looked around in curiosity. Something bad was about to be told. “Our gracious Mountaineer Commander, Berlshenk Riflemot…” Barzik tried to get the remaining sentences out. He snorted, feeling as if he was going to break down. He couldn’t do that in such a grievous time, he needed to get it out. He started again at the beginning. “Our gracious commander, Berlshenk Riflemot, has been kidnapped by unknown forces!” Silence. They stared at Barzik in disbelief. Kidnapped? Their precious leader and loving father figure? It just could not have happened… Roars of anger and talk coursed through the ward. Explanations were asked, insults were hurdled, and many other expletives and cries were said. “Who the fel took Riflemot!?” A Mountainguard soldier. “That’s all!? You don’t got anythin’ else t’say!? Who took’em!?” A Mountaineer. “That can’t be true! Who would’ve taken’im!?” Another Mountaineer. Fists were raised in confusion. The soldiers continued their questioning, wanting to know more. A riot almost sparked up and a few of the soldiers began to slowly make their way up the stairs. Barzik broke down at this point, head bobbed down and speechless. Even he was ignorant to know about what happened. The only person who knew more than him was… A shot resonated through the ward. Everyone slowly sloped down into silence, looking around in panic and anger. Barzik stepped back a few and let Beln move in front of him. Even though Barzik had been the Mountainguard Commander for a few years, this sort of situation was not native to him. He gave Beln the spotlight. Beln was the one who knew more. The Dark Iron glared around the area. Every Dwarf that passed his glare bobbed their head down in shame. Beln was living proof on how generous and kind Berlshenk was, and everyone knew it. He was the only Dark Iron in the Mountainguard, so forgetting was not a problem. A glance at Beln and any soldier would remember the story Berlshenk had passed along when he was promoted to Mountaineer Commander. “You all see me,” he said. “A Dark Iron, aye, but I’m along with ya in this time’a grief. If Berlshenk was watchin’ us right now he’d be disappointed.” Every soldier bobbed their heads. It was true. Berlshenk had given much wisdom to his subordinates. If Berlshenk was watching he would be disappointed. Berlshenk did not train his soldiers to demand answers like that, let alone begin a riot for answers. If the riot continued to grow and Barzik was harmed, then Berlshenk would be unforgiving and relentless. He did not raise his subordinates to be ruthless and unforgiving towards another; he raised them to respect and cherish each other. An army was only as strong as the weakest member in it. Beln slid his goggles towards his forehead. His volcanic eyes swam through the crowd in defiance and disappointment. No one raised their heads to look at him; they only listened. “Berlshenk’s countin’ on ya. Don’t disappoint’im again ‘er I’ll be the one lashin’ you all, y’hear boyos? We never found a body yet thank the gods ‘n let’s hope we never find one! His life’s in danger ‘n we’ve gotta be the ones ta save it!” One by one, the soldiers looked up. That was also true. Berlshenk had given much to his race, so it was only payment that they return in earnest. They needed to be strong, to be optimistic that they would find their dear commander before anything horrific befell on them. They had to find him. “C’mon you lifeless louts! Lift yer heads up high, don’t let this news demoralize yer hearts! We’ll find’im if it’s the last thing we do! Right!?” Cheers of agreement reverberated in return. Again, metal on metal bashed together, arms lifted, and roars of determination lifted the spirits. They would find him if it was the last thing they would do. Beln distributed what other information he had. Two large and dark figures had ambushed Berlshenk in Winterspring. After a bash to the back of the head, the two figures carried his unconscious body off towards Timbermaw Hold. It was there where Beln lost track of the figures. With this information, the Mountainguard made haste and preparations. The Explorer Mountaineers would look through the areas around Winterspring and the riflemen stationed around the hills would be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. At this point it would only be a matter of time until they find a corpse or any more information regarding Berlshenk’s status. When everyone was dismissed, Beln went to tend to Barzik, who was slumped on the side of the entrance to the war quarter. If anyone was hurt the most it was him. Being siblings, it would not be a surprise why he was harmed more mentally than the soldiers or anyone combined. He patted Barzik’s shoulder, shifting his goggles down over his eyes with his other hand. “C’mon boyo,” he said in an optimistic tone. He helped Barzik up and lightly slapped him in the face. Normally, anyone who did that would be dead by now, but Beln was different. Not only was he as old as Berlshenk, but Barzik also knew Beln well enough to share any secrets with. “We’ll find’im, no trouble about it. Keep doin’ what yer doin’ ‘n I’m sure time’ll pass by quicker than a chicken with its head off.” An odd analogy, but he was right. Barzik needed to keep a straight head on his shoulders. He was the commander of the Mountainguard, after all. Barzik nodded and gave a smile. “Aye. Thanks, Beln.” Beln nodded, then walked off. Barzik watched him go until he was out of sight, then gave a sigh and brushed himself off of any dust. “Oh brother,” he remarked with a bit of irritation. “You better not die, fer all of our sakes.” --Berlshenk 20:48, 15 September 2007 (UTC) ((A few weeks pass by. Several events happen during the time between these two stories, but I have yet to write them.)) --by Berlshenk Krassik could not stay put. Where was Berlshenk? Why had he not made contact with him in the past weeks? His whole agenda on becoming stronger had vanquished along with his master. It was difficult to put up with. Every thing was going fine and then poof! Or, rather, an orchestra of yells followed by a grunt from a blunt strike to the head and then a thud. The latter is much more general, however. Loch Modan is vastly guarded due to the warlock incident a few years ago. The vigorous guarding did not change much and many guards were placed on every pathway. Krassik saw this off-hand, but he was too weightless to make a sound. Column by column the Blood Elf made his way through the tunnel heading towards Loch Modan. As he sneaked, the Mountaineer a few feet in front of him kept looking behind him, feeling as if something was wrong. He was right, but he did not want to mess his patrol up and continued heading up and through the tunnel. It gave Krassik many opportunities. Slowly and swiftly he slid himself onto the sides of the tunnel, using the columns as cover to not be spotted. The hard part was about to come once he reached the end of the tunnel. Usually, only a lone Mountaineer would be covering the tunnel. The patrols would give the Mountaineer some company as he or she made their way through the tunnel and back. Since the warlock incident, the guards have been more numerous than usual and two Mountaineers were guarding the sides of the tunnel. Today was not a good day. He had done this before. When the Mountaineer was back on the road in Loch Modan, Krassik would divert the guarding Mountaineer's attention elsewhere and he would sneak past as the guard was occupied. But today, he would have to do something more drastic. Before Krassik could execute his plan, the conversation of the two Mountaineers caught his attention. The first guard spoke, "Say, Dun, who'dya think'll replace the commander?" Krassik's ears perked. His eyes grew wide in disbelief. Did I hear that correctly? He slowly inched his ears behind the tunnel's side to try and get a better reception. The second guard shook his head. "Fel, I wouldn't bother with that commander. No one's gonna replace Commander Riflemot! Just can't see it happenin'." "But... someone's gotta! It'll only be a matter of time, right? Can't be commander-less, y'know." Krassik shook his head in more disbelief. Was it true? Was he dead? It just did not seem possible. All that work, gone to waste? The second guard shook his head again. "Ain't gonna see it happenin'! It's either Commander Riflemot 'er Barzik! I'd go with Barzik since he knows what he's doin'. But even so it won't feel the same!" Krassik slowly slid down on the column. He began to ventilate, feeling numb. Without thinking, he ripped his mask off and began to tighten his grip on it. It was true. How it was true could not process through Krassik's mind. The words kept looping in it: It was true... In his stupor, he forgot to realize when the patrol came back. When he looked up, he found a sword aimed at his face along with the glare of a Mountaineer. Krassik's face did nothing and only assumed its usual disbelieving face. Mountaineers were told to kill on sight. So the Mountaineer did just that. The Dwarf slowly raised the sword up high, ready to swing. Krassik let his head fall to his knees, giving up life once more. A blunt instrument permeated through the tunnel and Krassik saw the Mountaineer drop his armaments and collapse onto the ground. What replaced the now unconscious figure was a Dark Iron outfitted in red and black armor. His eyes were shaded with goggles and the lenses adjusted themselves curiously at Krassik. Krassik stammered through his words. "W... w-who're you?" The Dark Iron glared at him, but there was something in his expression that looked like he was in pain rather than anger. The Dark Iron forcefully heaved Krassik up to his feet, then pulled him his way and pushed him towards direction away from Loch Modan. "He's dead," the Dark Iron stated. "Let go 'n live on, chum." Krassik turned his head once he heard the remark. "Dead? He..." The Dark Iron flung a dagger up towards his head, still glaring. "He's dead, boyo! Quit thinkin' he's alive! He's dead now..." The weapon hovered in the stranger's hand. Krassik turned around and shot a glare of his own at the Dark Iron. "Who are you?" Krassik said with intimidation. Sure, he had been saved, but why a Dark Iron? Were they not outcasts of the Bronzebeards? The Dark Iron still had his blade up, but tipped it side to side, contemplating on whether he should give an answer or not. Well, he was asking, so might as well give an answer. "Beln," he said. "I'm a long friend of yer master's." He turned his head, spying out for anyone on the road behind him. He looked back to Krassik. "Get goin' before the guards get back from break. I'm sure he didn't want ya t'get hurt... 'er killed, anyways." Beln shoved Krassik back a few feet with his foot, then sheathed his daggers and disappeared into the bright light emanating from the Loch Modan entrance of the tunnel. Krassik walked, then ran, then huffed and puffed through the tunnel. He growled angrily, brows furrowed and his mask still in his right hand. In a loud and lugubrious voice, Krassik finally shouted his thought out. "He's dead!!!" Back in Ironforge, Barzik solemnly sat in his office, befuddled at the grave news that had torn across Khaz Modan and beyond. What was supposed to be classified information had now dispersed into wild public news. The Commander of the Mountainguard, Berlshenk Riflemot, was now declared dead. In Felwood, a little ways from Jaedenar, a Cenarion Circle scout had noticed that there was a bloodied uniform of a Mountaineer's racked up on a tree. Surely it was just an unfortunate Mountaineer who was killed by the Jaedenar cultists, but there were also items racked up on the tree with the uniform. Two amulets: One with a gold-rim and a ruby center and another with an ivory-rim and a dark iron center. The marriage amulets Berlshenk always kept on twenty-four seven. When word of it was sent to the Explorer's League that inhabited Kalimdor, not an eyelash blinked when the word was passed on to Ironforge Headquarters. There, the grim news leaked everywhere as gossip and talk erupted on the streets of the great mountain. It quickly sucked the citizens of Stormwind in and the information continued to spread through the Eastern Kingdoms. Why was it a big deal? Like SI:7, the Mountaineers were Ironforge's sect of secret intelligence. Through the Eastern Kingdoms, compounds of Dwarves can be found observing the surrounding land, making reports and sending it to the higher-ups. Throughout mountains and wide open areas, if one had the eyesight of an eagle he or she could spot a Mountaineer from the landscape, observing, watching, taking notes, and maybe even ready to fall an important figure of some sort. When news of the death spread, people clamored about. Such a mighty figure of power and experience had just died, and of all places, was bested by demonic forces and cultists. Barzik had his hands clasped together on his office desk, head bowed ever so solemnly towards the desk. A time of mourning was now. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer of some sort in Dwarvish. Beln, as usual, sneaked in through the always-opened office. Not helping it, he slowly treaded down the stairs without a sound. Barzik's eyes slowly opened when Beln stopped a few feet away from his chair. Barzik lifted his head. Barzik spoke without disrupting the solemnity of the office. "He know now?" Beln nodded slowly. He spoke in a quiet tone. "Yessir. His apprentice's been informed. He took it real hard fer some reason." Barzik sighed and tinkered with his helmet's horns that was placed on his desk. "They interacted quiet some time before this mess. Must've bonded pretty good-like if he took it real hard." "Aye, real hard, sir." "Well, it's happened. I supposed everyone else knows about this now so yer dismissed." Soldiers were supposed to salute before being dismissed, but Beln simply walked up the stairs quietly. Barzik followed him with his eyes, then opened his mouth again to speak. "Sergeant. I hope you can handle that position. Make'im proud." Beln stopped in his tracks, looked at Barzik, then nodded with a sigh. "That I will, sir." He continued up the stairs until Barzik felt an air of isolation finally sweeping through the office. He was alone once more. His tears finally began to stream down his rough face. Arms buried it and his sobs began to become more audible. "Oh, brother!" "Just write something..." It took a few days to reach Booty Bay, but he made it. While very demoralized, Krassik knew he had to say something to his somewhat informative associate before she went missing. Krassik perched himself on the railing near the entrance of the Goblin town, tapping his pen thoughtfully on the parchment that only had several names crossed off at the upper left. Looks like he was having a hard time remembering the person's name. He tapped the pen on his forehead. "What the fel was her name? I can't believe I forgot so fast!" Krassik groaned in irritation and wrote the to the best of his knowledge. He sighed, then began writing his letter: <p> Don't worry about finding information on the Mountaineer Commander. Where ever you are, I'm sure you heard the news. He as good as dead now. The Cenarion Circle found his bloodied and torn clothes in Felwood just a few days when I left. </p> <p> I'm sorry for not staying in Brill, but I wanted to see if I could find anything on him and his status. Unfortunately, I got it alright. I'd like to give you some gold for your help so check around the envelope and make sure the 5 gold's there. I don't trust these damn Goblins the slightest bit. </p> <p> See you around, </p> Krassik checked the railing beside him to make sure the envelope was still present. Who knows what Goblins would do when they heard the jingle of a gold coin, let alone five gold coins. He folded the parchment and shoved it in the envelope, then hopped off the railing and calmly entered the heart of Booty Bay to look for a mailbox of some sort. As he walked, he scratched his head with a free hand, contemplating. "Kayce? Nah... I don't remember y's being in there... did she even give me her name? Lucky can't be it..." With doubt, he scribbled the first name he thought of and slid the envelope in the mailbox adjacent to the Goblin bank. As he walked away from it he continued to ponder. "Kayce... you've either got a share of my gratitude... or some free booze money. Ugh! What the fel was her name!?" Throughout the whole walk out of Booty Bay, Krassik continued to try and remember the name of the informant in Brill. It couldn't be Kayce, he just didn't think it was right. --by Berlshenk I chuckle at the anxiety and pain that the one named Berlshenk's companions' are showing. I do not think they understand the situation that they are in, let alone the dangers that could await them when exposed to this situation. They are to be in ignorance... at least, until he shows up once more to remedy their hearts and minds. Without a doubt, a bear to raise many cubs alone is a difficult burden to hold. The vigilant beast must persevere, giving her cubs the food and water to survive until it is their time to depart for their own lands. Such is the analogy for Berlshenk. However, since he is a mischievous Dwarf, he does not tend to his cubs when they are ready to depart for their own lands. Such a merciless practice is the rite of passage for the cubs to continue and live on without their kind mother. But, of course, where is the father to be seen in all this tending? Ah... yes. I am the father. I am to tend to the cubs and make certain that their training is without faults or misgivings. I am to tend to the cubs until the mother wishes to assert her life into theirs once more. Such is the situation of Berlshenk, but whether he will come back or not is something of debate. If you are one who has fallen into his trap, then please, do not worry. All your fears and anxieties are in vain. This is simply his mischievous ruse; a lure to bring those who would wish to harm his cubs out from the darkness of the Nether. So far, his plan continues to work as I speak. They have no incentive of false information, nor a feeling of foul play. The Mountaineer Commander's mischievous plan continues to move with great haste. But... until he arrives once more to testify to his death, I shall tend the cubs. It may not be easy for one such as me. Those who say that I am one of violence and barbarity are those who have yet to understand anything. They do not think with their minds, thus clouding them with hate and rage. It will only be a matter of time before they become one of violence and barbarity, for the mind of an ignorant being can only progress so far in the time of this life. Who do you say that I am? What do you say that I am? I shall answer your questions earnestly and bluntly, but only for such a temporary time in the events that have happened in the past few days. I am the father of the cubs to tend and a messenger. The eager and excited one named Krassik has yet to discover about Berlshenk's true status. The sibling of Berlshenk and the close companion of his have also yet to discover his true status. And, until he returns, they will be in ignorance... as painful as it is for them. They must not know... none of the others must know as well. It is such a disheartening task, but it must be done. But, the blue one… he is not of a concern. The forged news of death should be delivered with great haste. All must know of his death, and nothing more. Me and the blue one shall make preparations to spread the news, and hopefully, no one shall think differently of the situation. Also, please clear whatever assumptions you may have. My name is of no importance, nor is the discovery of my being. Simply let your mind wander into fantasy as you attempt to unravel the one called Berlshenk's plot. This... conundrum is for you, if anyone. When the time comes, all shall be revealed. I smile at his plan, for it is playfully mischievous despite the dire events that may happen if it does not carry on as he wishes. However, that is why I am given the task to assure the plan carries on without loss or danger. A troublesome occupation, but it must be done. I shall digress, for now... --Berlshenk 23:27, 19 September 2007 (UTC)
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