#it’s just so slay to be this sick radical bro

[buglover77]

Hello chronic pain havers just letting you know any time I think “I am so sick” a man with a surfboard appears behind me and goes “YEAHHH, sick as HELL duuuuude!!!!” If you take your meds he might appear to you too

[inmywebnow]

Death of a Publisher

If the Bilgewater Cartel had a newsletter, the day’s headline would read: POLITICAL AND CIVIL UNREST IN BILGEWATER But as fate would have it, Ziftwiz, the Goblin who was in charge of running the printing press for the Bilgewater Daily, recently had an unfortunate run in with a Sea Giant while harvesting ink along the coast, and no one has yet trained his replacement. His spontaneous passing has rather peculiar timing.  Secrecy is important among the Bilgewater Goblins.  It is, after all, at the core of their leadership; breaking this story would surely topple regimes.  

Furthermore, secrecy was the initial reason why Luca decided to run with a mercenary guild.  What better cover would give her a reason to travel across the great expanse of Azeroth without her motives being questioned?  Many of her missions were as much cartel business as they were guild contracts.  Luckily, she is an excellent multitasker. Luca worked for a newer cartel that was a splinter-faction of the Bilgewater, called the Bilgewater Resistance Organization, or The BRO.

Having been assigned to Booty Bay years ago she had come to accept that her duty to her people meant a lonely home away from them.  While many a young Goblin slept in warm beds night after night in Azshara, dreaming up new gadgets after a long day in the mines - Luca retired to a hollow room at the Booty Bay Inn each night, or a room just like it at whatever Inn she was near at the moment.  

Luca found the Guild Hall to be most comforting. As comforting as any great drafty building full of mercenaries can be, rather “homey” for a Goblin. But right now, she found herself daydreaming about the Guild Hall while sipping a pint at the Azshara Inn, and listening to a Bilgewater Goblin go on about his adventures slaying naga in the Harbor. “Are you sure they weren’t seals?” She muttered sarcastically under her breath, as she watched her tavern mate’s bravado deflate before her eyes. She could probably be a little nicer.  She hadn’t been home in quite some time.  Finally, she was among her peers - but it didn't help being a naturally awkward and stand-offish Goblin.  A little less sarcasm would probably go a long way with this group - but Luca had returned to Azshara for only one reason and her name was Gadreel. Twenty-five long years ago, Gadreel was at the height of her career.  She was a top engineer in Kezan; she was literally a rocket scientist. Around the same time, SavageLuca, a wee goblin lass of only 8 years had lost her mother to illness.  Gadreel was kind to Luca and used her influence to keep her out of the mines.  Instead, Luca was taught the art of smuggling. A job well-done that ultimately led to her diplomatic position as a spice trader in Booty Bay. Luca never forgot that she owed everything she had to Gadreel. So when she received word that Gadreel had fallen sick with a mysterious illness, she had to come back.  

Yet, instead of sitting at Gadreel’s feeble side, she found herself in a bar at a table with five other BRO Diplomats nervously exchanging tales of valor.  

And when current events became the topic of discussion, Ziftwiz’s untimely demise and Gadreel’s mystery disease were but mere bylines against a current of whispers that questioned radical shifts in Goblin politics. The cartels were a mess of greed and corruption, and joining with the Horde hadn't brought more transparency or clarity like they had hoped. This new rotarian approach to governing had been a relief to Goblins ripped from their home in Kezan, fearing a life of slavery at the hands of their Trade Prince, and suffering from PTSD of varied intensity. But the honeymoon period was coming to a close and the BRO Diplomats were beginning to ask a lot of questions.  It would not be long before the other cartel Goblins would begin doing the same.

However, civil unrest would have to wait, as Luca lapped up the last of her pint.  She needed to find Gadreel before it was too late.  The clock was ticking on Gadreel’s life, and with each “Tick Tock” of the grandfather clock in the back of the room Luca became more and more anxious, as she began to cloak and uncloak with each sway of the pendulum.  

With a large, hard swallow, she put her uneasiness aside and pushed her chair into the table.  It was time to say “Goodbye” to the one person who was, perhaps, her only friend.