Storytime with Docworm

[Docworm-kilrogg (Docworm)]

If you missed the most recent Storytime in Trade Chat on Kil’hoof and Winter’ogg, it’s here!
Welcome to Storytime with Docworm!! Now you may recall, a tale so tall, it was told at the height of Hallow’s End. It was about this lady and her out of control cooking pot, and how she reached a haunting end…

But this particular story, won’t be nearly as gory, because Winter Veil’s always less likely to offend.

So tonight, I present to you a shift. The story will maybe move as swift, as one might expect based on trade chat’s character limit. So read every detail, so as to commit…

…to your memories the story and wit- that is tonight’s …. Well let’s just get to it. This is about a hungry salesgoblin and a gift… we’ll talk about in a bit.

Tonight’s tale deals with a goblin family of old- of whom not vey many stories are told. You may have heard at some time of the Copperpinches and the Jinglepockets: families both, to many of you they have sold.

The copperpinch family is best known by the Horde- they sell things in Shattrath, and at Winter Veil also, what the Horde can afford. They share the Smokywood Pastures trademark together, with the Jinglepocket goblins of Ironforge.

It’s the Jinglepockets of Smokywood Pastures, that tonight’s story is written toward. And in particular, of the Jinglepockets found selling things of various sorts, it’s actually about one of the Jinglepockets, named Wulmort.

Wulmort used to sell just about anything! Even more products that Targot… who nearly sells every bling. If you think I’m making this up, do some research, you young pups. These are actual Jinglepocket goblins. Now what’s up?!

So anyway, where was I? Oh yes, for this tale. The mushy mud of the wetlands was smelling kind of stale, and Wulmort’s shipment to Ironforge was late for Winter Veil!

That cart that the Jinglepockets like to bring, had been dragged so hard, it popped a spring. And having to bed down for the night, Wulmort’s patience was wearing light. You do not want to see a goblin anxious… it’s not a pretty sight.

For he was concerned first, that he had no food, but also there could be bandits, up to no good! Luckily, Wulmort had found a duck. He shot it down, and it smelled quite foul. This duck would fit the bill, so he took a bow.

Prepping to cook his tasty bird, the first thing he did was … well let’s skip to the third: he built a fire, and marinated the bird. He searched the land for spices three: more like four: sage, rosemary, thyme and parsley.

He found some sage, growing on a dry plateau- it wasn’t much of a hike, maybe a mile he had to go. The Rosemary was easy to find as well- he kept some in his pocket in an old sea shell. Parsley nobody eats anyway. Not today.

But when he came to the thyme on his list of ingredients, Wulmort had no luck, at least no options of expedience. Luckily, goblins are techies, and Wulmort was too: he had a goblin radio built into his shoe.

“Excuse me, Targot, how’s the weather in Arathi?” … Targot answered, “It’s like a war zone, with beasts everywhere, but nice of you to ask me.” Wulmort asked Targot about the thyme, and she had uttered an answer…

But as Targot spoke the answer, Doom’s Howl rolled past her. “omg,” Wulmort exclaimed… “what a smoky pasture!!” But the connection wasn’t very clear over the radio, so Targot thought Wulmort had sassed her.

Wulmort was given a clue at last: she said “check in the wagon, in the wagon, you ___.” Insulted and hurt, Wulmort turned off the radio, and he searched everything, was it in any box? Well no.

Wulmort sat on the ground, with a feeling of despair. He had searched every box, in the wagon that was there. Only the gifts were untouched, all wrapped in their bows… and you don’t give gifts of thyme, as everyone knows.

Just when all seemed to be lost for dinner, of this duck or a pheasant, Wulmort heard a great noise, it sounded quite pleasant. The jingle of the sleigh that he knew so very well: it was Greatfather Winter, he knew it would be swell.

Now if you recall from some of my past stories, some of them short and some of them tall, Greatfather Winter is not very small. He’s actually Hodir, not just a fake from the mall.

Greatfather asked Wulmort if he’d been nice that year. Wulmort had been great- prices falling on all his gear! Smokywood Pastures’s franchise was a beneficent one, and Wulmort, of the sales goblins? He was a good one.

So … Greatfather snorted a laugh, or maybe it was a jolly sniff. He pulled from his sack, a brightly wrapped gift. He handed it to Wulmort and told him to open it. Wulmort said “dude, I hope there isn’t dope in it.”

“No,” laughed Greatfather winter, while Wulmort acted all reticent: “It contains thyme, because…” ………

“There’s no thyme like the present.” This has been Storytime with Docworm! Thank you for listening! Be sure to slay the Greench, where the snow in the hills are glistening. Drop him for me, and Wulmort, and Thyme,

And thank you again, for listening to my storytime! Happy Winter Veil Everyone, and to all a good rhyme!!