The meatwagon’s wheels groaned in protest as it reversed into the Forsaken refugee camp. The machine was never designed for the cold metal terrain of Orcish fortifications but then again Benedikt very much doubted its engineers foresaw its philanthropic potential either. Haunted eyes began appearing in the cracked slits of hastily made tents to peer at the warmachine, or more specifically at its ammunition bed which still steamed with the fresh gore of another futile Alliance gesture against Orgrimmar. The meatwagon squealed as its driver locked the wheels. The distressed Scourgetech’s whining served as a dinner bell to the refugees already familiar with the Desolate Conclave. About a dozen began to file out of their shelters, braving the cruel Durotar afternoon sun for free food.
“Alright Holmstein pull the lever to your left.” said Benedikt as he maneuvered a skeletal horse dragging a large vat to the back of the meatwagon.
The meatwagon’s chains whirred as its bucket fell back and scooped up a payload.
“LEFT! LEFT! THE RED ONE!” cried Benedikt in vain.
The baleful battery’s chains screeched as its arm shot up and slammed against its frame. Benedikt and the assembled refugees watched helplessly as several pounds of humanoid meat went sailing gaily over the gates and into the city to ruin someone’s day.
“BIG SORRY CHIEF! ONCE MORE WHAT IS OF LEFT?!” yelled Holmstein from the driver’s seat in barely intelligible Gutterspeak.
“OUT! OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!” snarled Benedikt as he floated up to the driver’s seat. He shooed the confused undead vrykul away and yanked the correct lever. The meatwagon gave a wailing shake as its contents sloughed into the vat at it’s rear.
“Is my failing chief. I go fix. Make more. Find little blues and smash.” said Holmstein, readying two massive warhammers.
“NO! No.” replied an exasperated Benedikt. He took a vestigial breath and ran his claws through his hair.
“Holmstein, just – here’s what you’re going to do. Stand here. Serve the refugees. One scoop per person. When you’re done, come back to the Cleft and I’ll have something else for you to do. Understand?” asked Benedikt.
“Yes. One man one scoop. Come to dark place when all gone!” responded Holmstein with a nod.
“Excellent. Just leave the Meatwagon here I need to have some engineers take a look at it anyway.” said Benedikt, leaving Holmstein to divvy out the Alliance stew.
Benedikt walked to the edge of the gates and looked out into the crowded Valley of Strength, attempting to see where the meat may have landed. He reached into his satchel and dug around until he felt the edges of his Forsaken Communication Device. He yanked it out and set it to the Desolate Conclave’s secure frequency.
“High Executor Creed, do you read me?” he said into the device.
“Yessir boss. What’s up?” chirped the FCD with the familiar drawl of Stanton Creed.
“Had a bit of an incident at the gate camp. Meatwagon misfired. Figure out where the cargo landed and let’s try to quiet that as quickly as possible. We don’t want rumors flying around that the Forsaken are bombarding the city.” instructed Benedikt, rolling his eyes at the predictable chuckle that came from the other end.
“A’ight then boss. Me ‘an Batthew’ll find yer missin’ meat. Over ‘n out.” chortled Stanton.
Benedikt leapt from the edge of the gates and began levitating down toward the crowded streets, gliding to an unoccupied plot. He then walked the streets of Orgrimmar making his usual stops. A trip to the butcher to reserve that week’s blood for the bats. A stop by the alchemist for a bulk order of vials. A quick check in with the Shattered Hand for any ongoing cases that could use Desolate Conclave support. He was about halfway through his to do list when his FCD started ringing.
“Yeah?” said Benedikt bringing the device up to his ear.
“Uh, boss looks like ya got some trouble” said Stanton with an uncharacteristic seriousness of tone.
“What did the meatwagon knock a windrider out of the sky?” replied Benedikt.
“Huh? Nah, nah, I’ll get right back on that toot sweet but ya got yerself a tail. Deathstalker, ‘bout seventeen yards back, been followin’ ya since ya floated down. Don’t thank she’s interested in a job application neither.” reported Stanton.
“Understood. The security systems are active in the laboratory, correct?” responded Benedikt, lowering his voice and pretending to take interest in a street merchant’s wears.
“Jus’ take a left down that alley I’ll have a clean shot.” said Stanton.
“Did. You. Set. Up. The. Security. System?!” growled Benedikt.
“I dun’ told ya I did last week! No sense in bothering with all that when I can-“started Stanton.
“I’ll handle this myself. Now get back to work.” barked Benedikt as he shut off his FCD.
He was seething. This was a new low. It hadn’t been surprising when Dark Rangers started cutting down citizens. They’d always seemed to see themselves as superior to the rank and file Forsaken. But this? This is what it’d come down to? Forsaken on Forsaken violence. Disgusting. He tried to reach out with his mind, feeling for hostile intent. It was no use. The streets were too crowded. Murderous thoughts weren’t exactly a rare thing to pick up on in an Orcish city, and even then, it’d be hard to zero in on the source with this much background chatter. Benedikt calmed himself and at a leisurely pace made his way to the Cleft of Shadows.
He entered his laboratory and stirred a pot he had sitting on a fire. He sighed, his very carefully made Dark Iron blood tea had started to coagulate. He salvaged what he could and poured it into a cup before taking a seat in his favorite chair and relaxing for a few seconds. 10, 9, 8, he could sense the Deathstalker now in the comparatively empty Cleft – she was closing in, 7, 6, 5, 4, he took a sip of his tea, 3, 2, 1. Benedikt spun his chair around cooly as the hiss of a flare triggering announced his visitor’s entrance with a flood of bright light.
“Oh, hello. Sorry about that. Can never be too careful in Orgrimmar. Lacks the security of the Apothecarium. My office hours are past I’m afraid but seeing as this looks important, I’ll make an exception.” said Benedikt with a disarming smile as he looked upon the Deathstalker, still crouched in a ‘stealthy’ position and brandishing blades.
The Deathstalker, realizing she was standing in plain view, corrected her posture and attempted to look as if she’d meant to walk in that way. Benedikt hid his utter disdain. This was just offensive. Sending some assassin after him was to be expected at this point but an amateur? Harsh enough to be considered a threat to his own people but just hurtful to be regarded as not much of one.
“Uhhh – Apothecary Benedikt!” said the Deathstalker, putting her blades to her side.
“Yes?” asked Benedikt, taking another sip of his tea.
“By order of the Deathguard you are under arrest for the crime of-“ started the Deathstalker.
“Absolutely nothing.” said a third voice emanating from the side of the laboratory.
Both followed the new voice to its source. A Forsaken clad in the blight green armor of a Defiler stood in the corner near Benedikt’s apothecary equipment. The Deathstalker and Benedikt exchanged puzzled looks. Had he been standing there the whole time?
“Who the fel are you?” asked the Deathstalker as the Defiler approached her.
“Your superior” said the Defiler, “Your extremely disappointed superior. I’ve reviewed the charges against this Apothecary…” the Defilers eyes flicked down to a clipboard he seemed to pull from thin air “Benedikt, and this is a blatant false flag. You believe this person to be in rebellion against our Warchief? SI:7 has you idiots chasing your own tail”.
“These orders come directly from Captain B-LARK!” started the Deathstalker before the Defiler backhanded her hard enough to dislocate her jaw.
“Then go fetch him so I can hit him even harder!” yelled the Defiler as the Deathstalker regained her footing and sheepishly began to back out of the laboratory.
“Apologies Apothecary, Bile was it?” said the Defiler as he turned to face the surprised Priest.
“Oh, don’t mention it, you know how those provincial recruits can be and no, it’s Benedikt” replied Benedikt, attempting to hide his nonplus at the proceedings.
“Oh no. It’s Bile. It’s Carnifice Bile.” said the Defiler.
Benedikt’s cautious optimism was immediately replaced with considerable discomfort. He hadn’t heard that name in many years, and would have preferred to have never heard it ever again. He masked his worry with a friendly laugh and winning smile.
“Well seeing as this Bile has just been exonerated far be it from me to not claim the identity. But truthfully I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure who you’re talking about.” replied Benedikt.
“I’m entirely sure you’re entirely sure who I’m talking about.” retorted the Defiler as he removed his gas mask.
Benedikt’s smile twisted into a scowl as he started to recognize the man. “Kaligari…” said Benedikt with the same tone one might use to say ‘inoperable bowel cancer’.
“Ah, that’s sweet. You DO remember me. Want to stop pretending you don’t remember you?” replied Kaligari as he sauntered past Benedikt to play with some of the laboratory’s instruments.
“I would’ve thought you’d have received true death after the Wrathgate.” hissed Benedikt.
“Oh, please? Like I’d have died for that idiot’s doomed rebellion. ‘Now is the hour of the Forsaken’. Pffft. Drama queen. Still, fel of a thing to see blight in action for the first time. Alliance, Horde and Scourge all boldly fleeing as their eyes melted.” said Kaligari, smiling at the fond memory. “Gorgeous, really. Shame you weren’t there to see it.”
“What are you doing here?” asked Benedikt with growing impatience.
“I believe I should be asking that question. You got ‘em all fooled Bile. You really do. That business with the Argent Dawn. Teaching freshdead how to walk in Deathknell or whatever, and what’s this, helping the livestock out in that pasture they call a home?” said Kaligari as he flicked vials with his claws. “But not me. Not me. I remember what we did. What you did. You think helping some old ladies across the street changes any of that?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. Whoever you came here to talk to died in Arathai.” hissed Benedikt.
“Oh, please, what was it? Putress mucking about with those refugee kids? I know it wasn’t the experiments on the prisoners. Never bothered you before. Oh, was it this?” mused Kaligari as he read from his clipboard.
“Was it what?” replied Benedikt.
“Says here you’ve a halfblood greenskin mongrel – why Bile I may faint at the scandal of it all. What fatherhood change your mind? HA! Oh, says here she lives in the city – maybe I’ll pay her a visit afteRRRGRHA” Kaligari was interrupted by a void tendril manifesting and gripping his throat as Benedikt began to levitate and pulse with void energy.
“YOU LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!” hissed Benedikt, his voice echoing with Shath’Yar whispers.
Kaligari cracked a smile before slashing himself free with his claws and smartly rolling behind Benedikt in a fluid motion.
“Ah, there’s the Bile I remember. Still pull people apart with those things?” laughed Kaligari.
Benedikt whirled around and exploded into a void form. Two tendrils grabbed Kaligari’s wrists as a shadowfiend manifested and constricted his legs.
“I’m thinking about it.” snarled Benedikt.
“I bet you are” said Kaligari with a grin, “But slow your roll there Bile. I didn’t just come here to rescue you – you’re welcome by the way. I want to join up with this, uh, Dusty Confabulation of yours.”
“Why would I even consider that?” hissed Benedikt.
“Ah, c’mon Bile, by now you know I’m always on the winning side. This situation is going belly up like a fat cadaver in a river. Nobody knows where that crusty old greenskin went, I don’t think the livestock are going to be all that passive when their big bull gets what’s coming to him, and Windrunner hasn’t exactly been giving me the best sense of job security." replied Kaligari
“Sounds like a you problem” snarled Benedikt.
“Oh please. You need all the help you can get and we both know it. I may be rancid butter but I’m on your side of the bread, Bile.” chuckled Kaligari.
“I’ll never be that desperate for anything, you degenerate. Why don’t I just rip you limb from limb and leave it at that?” hissed Benedikt as his tendrils began to pull in opposite directions.
“You certainly could but that might be difficult to explain to the witness over there.” said Kaligari with a smirk, nodding at the doorway. Benedikt spun around to see a figure approaching the laboratory door. He dropped void form and released Kaligari who immediately rolled for the exit.
“Well, keep it in mind Bile. I’ll be in touch.” said Kaligari with a wink and friendly wave before disappearing out the door.
This headache was immediately replaced by another as a furious looking Orc Captain covered in gore stomped into the laboratory. Benedikt tilted his head in confusion for a second before he recalled the day’s previous mishap.
“FORSAKEN!” roared the Orc Captain.
“Ya?” replied Benedikt in Orcish, in disbelief over today’s run of bad luck.
“You vermin! Was it not dishonorable enough to butcher the Alliance dead?! You had to launch it into the city as what I assume is a joke to you abominations!” seethed the Orc Captain.
“Listen hier Kaptain it vas just an accident. Ve’ve both klearly had long days so vhy don’t ve get zoo kleaned up und have a nice konversation about zis over some drinks, hmm?” said Benedikt with the most patient and affable tone he still had the energy to muster.
The Orc shook his head as he approached Benedikt, reaching for his axe. “We let you detestations into the Horde. We give you shelter when you lost that sewer to the Alliance, and THIS is how you repay us? Your depravity knows no end!”
Benedikt reached for his staff and glided back a few paces, preparing to subdue the Orc Captain before seeing another shape approach the laboratory entrance. He relaxed and smiled at the Orc Captain as the shadow hunched down to squeeze into the entrance as it had many times before.
“Tent dead all fed! I come here as you say do!” announced Holmstein proudly, oblivious to the tension in the room.
The Orc Captain growled and reeled around with his axe at the ready. His anger started to simmer as he tilted his head all the way up to meet the gaze of the giant Forsaken.
“Mad green problem?” asked Holmstein, looking down at the Orc Captain.
“Oh no I don’t sink he vill be. Vill zoo?” asked Benedikt
“Uhh… You spoke of drinks, Forsaken? Yes… yes… that… that will do. If you’ll excuse me.” murmured the Orc Captain before awkwardly stepping around Holmstein and retreating out the door.
Holmstein shrugged, “You have thing for me do now, yes?”
“Yes Holmstein. Yes I do. I need you to go find a man named Charles Gastly, and I want you to buy all the Undercity Skull Shocker he has.” commanded Benedikt in Gutterspeak.
“Okay chief. Go get many Skull Shock.” replied Holmstein.
“No, no, no. Not ‘many’, Holmstein. ALL. Buy ALL he has. Understood?” clarified Benedikt.
“Yes. Yes. Buy ALL skull shock. Very good.” said Holmstein with a nod before he crouched down and shuffled out of the laboratory.
Benedikt collapsed in his chair and reached for his tea. It had grown cold. He sighed and drank it anyway.