“Mountaineer Flinthammer, where exactly do you think that you are?”
“Your location, Flinthammer,” Captain Rugelfuss growled. “What is it?”
“Er, th’ southern Loch Modan guard tower in th’ Valley o’ Kings,” Ringo Flinthammer replied. After an awkward pause, he continued: “On th’ top floor, sir.”
“Are you sure? No chance you might not still be in Northrend?”
“I thought you might be confused, and think you’re back in the Dragon Night.”
“When you were in the Dragonblight and you shot someone, Flinthammer, what happened next? You rolled your dice and saw who got to go through their pockets for loose change?”
“Aye, sir, an’ cut off their head and burned the body so it didn’t rise from th’ dead.”
“Around here, you know what happens when, say, we shoot two obnoxious death knights in the Stoutlager Inn?”
“Paperwork, Flinthammer. Lots and lots of paperwork. And don’t say I should get a gnome for that: I’ve asked, and they won’t let me have one.”
“Well, you’ll be sorrier if they open up an inquiry,” sighed Rugelfuss. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
The captain sighed and squinted out into the sunlit valley outside the guard tower.
“I was the only captain who wanted you when you applied, Flinthammer. Stoutfist and the others, they didn’t understand why someone who’d fought dragons and been back and forth through the Dark Portal wasn’t being sent to Bael’dun or at least Dun Garok.”
“Me wife wanted ta come back home, sir, ta Khaz Modan.”
“Aye. You’re not the first dwarves to come home when it came time to raise a family,” Rugelfuss said. “Truthfully, I was looking forward to having a dragonstalker keep an eye on the Mo’grosh and the Tunnel Rats. And we still get Horde Runners stirring up trouble around the loch every once in a while. But I can’t have you shooting people in a tavern full of tourists, Flinthammer. Bluntnose won’t stand for it, and he can make life very hard for me if he wants to.”
“It was justified,” Ringo said. “The shooting.”
“I reckoned it was. But I need to be able to tell Bluntnose something. So starting today, you’re reporting to Mountaineer Pebblebitty. She’ll give you your assignments and ride herd on you.”
“Why Pebblebitty, can Ah ask?”
“Because she’s the hardest mountaineer in Loch Modan, next to me, and I don’t need the headache. She’ll make your life a living hell but she’ll keep Bluntnose off my back. Try not to shoot anyone on the way over.”
“Ah’ll do me best, sir.”
5 thoughts on “Field duty”
Oh man…that Pebblebitty. I’d say something more, but she’d probably come find me, and then I’d be sore for weeks.
Hang in there! Politics is politics, but home makes everything worth it.
A story with Pebblebitty! I always wondered what else she did besides stand there and give keys to people.
I always salute her when I ride through. I like living too much not to.
All the way from the Valley of Kings to Stonewrought Pass without shooting anybody? That’s a couple hundred yards. A lot to ask of Ringo.
That’s why I stay in Northrend, where it’s safe.