Chikt
01-23-2009, 12:04 PM
((I was hit with the inspiration to write a story about Chikt. With lots of puns. And actually make it canon. So here we go! I just know I'm going to hate myself in the morning...
Oh. And the Indiana Jones reference ends with the title. Sort of.))
Repair Bots. Herbs. Foodstuffs. Amor. Weapons. Stacks of cloth in numerous shapes, sizes and colours. The task that stood before Diomades and Chikt as they examined the Raven Cross’ guild Warehouse was daunting to say the least. Despite their best intentions and setting up a specific organizational system, the transition into making room for goods from Northrend had been a tidal wave of items neither had expected.
Now as they stood before the contents of Warehouse Number 3, it became increasingly obvious to them both that some spring cleaning was in order. Chikt rubbed the back of his neck with a clawed hand – it was a massive task for a Goblin to undertake such a task as this. Let alone without a crew of massive size to back him up. Looking to Diomades, he blinked as the Tauren was no longer standing where he once was a moment ago and glanced around trying to find him.
Following the sound of heavy hoof falls, Chikt looked over at Diomades as he walked towards the doors to the Warehouse. The goblin opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, Diomades cut him off. “Have it done by the morning, Chikt. We can’t keep on functioning like this with so little space, so disorganized. I’ve got to get the rest of the guild organized.”
Before Chikt could say a word, Diomades was out the door to the warehouse and closing it behind himself with a loud clang. The Goblin let out a long sigh and slowly turned to look back at the pile of crap sitting in the centre of the room that towered over him easily. Organizing small parts was easy. He was an engineer, that’s what he did. He tried his best to think of this as building a gigantic, destructive bomb.
If only…
Wandering over to the pile, he glanced around the large warehouse and groaned. It would take him hours to make any progress in just one of the warehouses, let alone all five of them. Deciding to stop dawdling, he got to his knees and began to sift through the pile, from the ground up. Tossing items to the left and right of him to get them into smaller, more organized piles.
Hours passed by before Chikt finally stood before the contents of Warehouse Three once more. Piles of food to his left. Different stacks of cloth to his right. Items of little value to the guild behind him in a wagon to be taken to the auction house and sold off. There were piles of similar items scattered all through the warehouse. He’d still have to go through and make sure everything on his checklist was there, which is what he was in the process of doing now. In his clawed hands he held a clipboard, scratching out the words written across it in numerous different languages and scrawls – all of the people depositing or withdrawing items establishing exactly what goes in and comes out of that specific warehouse.
As he sifted through the items in the wagon, he came across one particular item that had appeared curious to him before. A carved blood-red gemstone head. A male humans head, to be exact. It was quite a morbid item to be sure, but Chikt simply had passed it off as one of the guilds gem cutters getting overly creative with their profession. That was until he went over every page clipped to his board, and found no history for the deposit of a gemstone head.
It was unusual for an item to go into one of the Raven Cross warehouses without Chikt knowing about it, so this was a mystery to be sure. But not a bad one. Grinning wickedly to himself, he picked up the crystal head and tossed it aside next to his shoulder bag. If there was no record of it being in the guild bank, it wouldn’t be missed if he were to sell it for a little personal profit. He knew that it was the wrong thing to do, but it wasn’t much like Dio was paying him overtime for this job.
It would be an hour more before Chikt had gone through all the items in the warehouse. The only item out of place was the Gemstone Head, so he was satisfied. But in order for him to start putting things away on shelves, he needed to get all the unnecessary stuff out of the Warehouse and into the Auction House. Walking over to his shoulder bag, he picked up the gemstone head and shoved it in before slinging the bag over his head and looking to the wagon.
Unlike most Goblins, he didn’t feel safe having is stuff dragged by large, red explosive rockets. He had decided to go with the far safer route of the kart being dragged by one of the many kodo from Diomades’ stables. It seemed happy to be out and about, even if it was dragging a big heavy wagon. Clambering onto the wagon, Chikt grabbed the rope he’d tied to the Kodo’s harness and gave it a whip. The Kodo began to trudge out into the sunlight.
The Raven Cross’ Warehouses sat just beneath the cliffs overlooking Ratchet. They were not visited often or really well known – it was by and large Chikt’s realm. They used to be personal warehouses, housing all his engineering project and items collected across the years. As the Raven Cross grew so did its required space, and now Chikt only had a single warehouse of his own remaining. He didn’t mind – he had little time to do engineering so much these days.
He gave the Kodo another whip and it grunted as it exerted itself a little more, beginning to gallop as best as it could with a belly so low-lying to the ground, and Chikt followed the coastline towards Orgrimmar, unaware that he was being watched by a human death knight that stood on one of the high cliffs of the Barrens. The Death Knight watched silently for a long moment before rearing up his horse and taking off down the hill after the goblin.
Chikt heard the thumping of hooves on the craggily dirt and thought nothing of it initially, until he heard the oddly echoing ‘Hyah!’. Looking over his shoulders, his eyes widened as the death knight came up just behind him and swung his sword at his head. Chikt barely ducked in time to avoid it, jumping back to his feet atop a bunch of the items sitting in the back of the wagon and trying not to slip. The Death Knight scowled through the holes in his helm at the goblin. Chikt glanced around himself for something to use.
He frowned as the nearest, heaviest object was a bar of gold – totally useless to the guild now as a material, but it still held SOME value! So he reached for the next thing closest to him – a stack of linen cloth – and tossed it at the Death Knights head. The cloth clung to his spiked mask, prompting the Death Knight to reach up with a gauntleted hand to try and tear the cloth off, growling in frustration. When he tore the cloth away to glare at the goblin once more, Chikt shakily held a large, two-handed axe in his arms and swung it at the Death Knights head with a yell.
The blade of the axe connected with the Death Knights plate helmet – and simply got wedged in the thick metal. Merely making the knight look far more pissed off and a bit more top-heavy. The knight grabbed the base of his helmet and took it off, letting it thud along the ground behind him. Chikt gulped as he came face to face with the Knight, his skin pale and eyes glowing blue. He swang again at Chikt, only to have his sword crash into the wagon and miss the speedy goblin once more.
Chikt tripped over backwards as he tried to dodge another swipe from the Death Knight, sending several items tumbling out of the wagon. He tried to find another item of use, when he found something before him and smirked. He snatched up several items and began to work quickly as the Knight slashed again at the wagon, sending splinters flying.
When Chikt next stood up, he was grinning wickedly. The Death Knight glared at him – but his gaze was short lived and replaced by something more akin to panic as Chikt hefted a flaming glass bottle before tossing it at the knights head.
The explosion was a lot larger than the Goblin could have predicted, but explosions usually worked that way as an engineer. The Death Knight was sent flying from his mount, and Chikt was sent flying from the wagon as it tipped over and the ropes snapped. The Kodo and Death Charger continuing to run onwards in a panic. Chikt groaned and picked himself up from the dirt, glancing over at the Death Knight. His face was on fire, shards of glass sticking out of his tough, pale skin.
Limping over to the knight, Chikt kicked him in the ribs. “I gotta say, you’re on fire today big guy!” He chuckled at his own joke and glanced around himself.
Nobody was ever around to hear the good ones.
Kneeling down beside the Death Knight, he began to rifle through his armor before coming upon a pocket watch. He flipped it open and immediately recognized the symbol – he’d seen Dio carrying a similar watch after a quest in Outland. It belonged to the Cult of the Damned. Along with it was a note with orders to retrieve the Gemstone Head for the good of the Empire and return it to the Dragonblight, signed simply with “Tsar Vox”.
Chikt sighed and folded the note up. He had a fair idea of where this Tsar would be given Dio’s stories about the Cult of the Damned in the Dragonblight. He pulled out his Hearth Stone and bought it to his ear before speaking into it. “Hey, Dio! I need your help with somethin’!”
There was a brief pause before the distant sound of battle filled his ear, Diomades voice bellowing out over it. “You can clean up the Warehouse on your own, Chikt! I’m kinda busy right now!”
Before Chikt could respond, the sound disappeared again. He sighed, looked to the toppled cart, before looking to the dead Death Knight. “Looks like it’s just you an’ me then.”
Several hours later, a slightly damaged wagon full of items pulled by a Death Charger rode in through the entry to the Onyx Dragonshrine. The Death Knight at the helm of the wagon seemed to waver slightly from side to side as the wagon bounced along the slippery cobblestones, a large gash in his helmet. The few Cult of the Damned in the area that cared to notice the odd knight looked at him with quirked brows for only a moment before returning to their work. The Death Knight simply stared forward with dead eyes.
Chikt cowered beneath a stack of cloth and armor in the back of the wagon, hoping the makeshift support he’d rigged up to keep the Death Knight sitting upright would hold long enough. Eventually he felt it become far hotter, and the wagon came to a stop. Not hearing any movement around him, Chikt climbed out of underneath all the items in the wagon and dropped to the ground. He glanced around the large cavern. Lava was everywhere and the change in temperature made his head spin.
There was a dim creaking noise that caught his attention, coming from the dead Death Knight. Glancing up at the corpse, it slowly began to tip over to the side as the branch supporting it gave and snapped. The corpse slumped off the side of the cart and crumpled to the floor of the cave with a clang. Chikt winced as the sound echoed and he heard movement come from the opposite side of the cavern, ducking behind the Death Knights corpse.
He cowered there quietly as the sound of footsteps got closer and closer, before finally stopping. Blinking, he looked up before he was smacked hard across his head and he slumped to the ground, barely catching a glimpse of the skeleton that had struck him before he felt himself being dragged across the smooth floor of the cave.
When Chikt came to, he was in a dark part of the cave, and could barely make out a figure before him flanked by two skeletons by his sides. Chikt groaned and climbed to his feet, rubbing the stubbly hair on the back of his neck as the figure before him spoke in an empty voice, not unlike a Death Knight. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
The Goblin shrugged and shifted on his heels. “The people in my Guild have killed a LOT of people and taken their stuff, you’re gunna have to be more specific.”
The figure turned and it suddenly occurred to Chikt that whatever it was, it had no head on its shoulders – the rest of its body covered in heavy metal armor. Chikt tried not to smirk. “Oh. I understand. You must be Tsar Vox. You’re just trying to get a head. ”
He glanced around himself with a grin before frowning slowly.
Nobody was ever around to hear the good ones.
The figure sighed and clicked his fingers. One of the skeletons stepped forward and kicked Chikt in the chest, sending the goblin back into the cave wall with a grunt. The gemstone head rolling out of his shoulder bag. Chikt lay slumped against the wall, watching as the skeleton gathered up the head and turned back to his master, handing it over. Taking the head from his minion, the Tsar placed the head upon his shoulders – the empty eyesockets lit up with a brilliant blue in contrast to the gemstones blood red.
The glowing eyes turned to look at Chikt, before the once-headless death knight motioned to his minions and he spoke apathetically. “Dispose of the goblin.”
Chikt looked up at the Tsar raised his voice a moment. “Before you kill me, can you tell me how your head got turned into a gemstone? I mean, I’m assuming that it’s yours.”
The Tsar stared at Chikt for a long moment, seemingly considering the request, before speaking in the hollow tone once more. “A sacrifice. For power. One of your people, the ones bearing the black cross, decided it would be funny to steal my head and deny me of my power. Now, you have returned it to me. I will create my empire without conflict, and this “Raven Cross” of yours will die for their transgressions against me and my empire to be.”
Turning, the Death Knight pulled a helm over his crystal head. Chikt grinned wickedly before he spoke quietly. “Can’t let you do that, Tsar Vox.”
The Death Knight groaned and looked back at the Goblin – who now held a small metal pad above his head, with a large red button upon it. “Want to see an example of good plastic explosives at work? I’m glad you put your helmet on, because I’m about to blow your mind.”
The Death Knight’s glowing blue eyes flashed brighter and larger as he stepped forward to snatch the device out of Chikts hand. The Goblin glanced around himself before he sighed and grinned sadistically.
Nobody was ever around to hear the good ones.
Moments later outside the Onyx Dragonshrine, there was a low thud from deep within the cavern, smoke and dust rushing outside the gaping earthern dragon maw that made up the entrance to the cave. Chikt stumbled out from it, covering his mouth and coughing loudly. Glancing around himself, it was then that Chikt noticed the skeletons and dark-skinned cultists in the area all staring at him. He smirked slowly and pulled a string of grenades from his belt.
Several simultaneous explosions sounded off from the Onyx Dragonshrine as smoke billowed up towards the night sky.
The sun was slowly rising as Chikt limped back into Ratchet. His jeans, boots, shirt and tabard were all torn, burned in a few spots, bloodied in others and covered in brownish-grey dust all over. He carefully pushed open the doors to Warehouse three and slumped against the wall with a sigh, closing his eyes.
That was until he heard the deep clearing of a throat and looked up to see Diomades towering over him. Chikt gave a little salute to the Patriach before greeting him between shallow breaths. “Hey, Dio…”
The Tauren sighed and crossed his arms. “You were off playing with explosives, weren’t you?”
Before Chikt could answer, Diomades had already started berating him. “I am not paying you overtime to just go and create wacky inventions, Chikt! I need you to stay focussed!”
Opening his mouth to reply, Chikt paused a moment before blinking and then speaking finally. “Wait, overtime?”
Diomades nodded. “Well, yes. Do you think I’d just let a friend do all this work without giving them something for it? I appreciate the help. I wouldn’t not pay you for it.”
Chikt blinked and jumped to his feet as though he wasn’t hurt at all, giving the Tauren a far more brisk salute. “Yes sir! I’ll get this warehouse fixed up by noon!”
Diomades smiled and nodded. “Good. I’ll go and organize Warehouse Four while you finish up here. Thanks, Chikt.” The Tauren rubbed the Goblin’s bald head before walking out of Warehouse Three, leaving a smiling Chikt to return to his work with a happy whistle.
A few hours later as Diomades finished separating the contents of Warehouse 4 into neat piles and was in the midst of checking off everything on the list of the Warehouse’s supposed contents when he came across a piece of parchment – the apparent deed to an ancient boat. It was then that he noticed a note written on the bottom of it, reading it to himself aloud. “If found, please return to Harrison Jones...?”
Shrugging, he lay the deed to an apparently missing boat aside.
“I’m sure Chikt will work it out.”
Oh. And the Indiana Jones reference ends with the title. Sort of.))
Repair Bots. Herbs. Foodstuffs. Amor. Weapons. Stacks of cloth in numerous shapes, sizes and colours. The task that stood before Diomades and Chikt as they examined the Raven Cross’ guild Warehouse was daunting to say the least. Despite their best intentions and setting up a specific organizational system, the transition into making room for goods from Northrend had been a tidal wave of items neither had expected.
Now as they stood before the contents of Warehouse Number 3, it became increasingly obvious to them both that some spring cleaning was in order. Chikt rubbed the back of his neck with a clawed hand – it was a massive task for a Goblin to undertake such a task as this. Let alone without a crew of massive size to back him up. Looking to Diomades, he blinked as the Tauren was no longer standing where he once was a moment ago and glanced around trying to find him.
Following the sound of heavy hoof falls, Chikt looked over at Diomades as he walked towards the doors to the Warehouse. The goblin opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, Diomades cut him off. “Have it done by the morning, Chikt. We can’t keep on functioning like this with so little space, so disorganized. I’ve got to get the rest of the guild organized.”
Before Chikt could say a word, Diomades was out the door to the warehouse and closing it behind himself with a loud clang. The Goblin let out a long sigh and slowly turned to look back at the pile of crap sitting in the centre of the room that towered over him easily. Organizing small parts was easy. He was an engineer, that’s what he did. He tried his best to think of this as building a gigantic, destructive bomb.
If only…
Wandering over to the pile, he glanced around the large warehouse and groaned. It would take him hours to make any progress in just one of the warehouses, let alone all five of them. Deciding to stop dawdling, he got to his knees and began to sift through the pile, from the ground up. Tossing items to the left and right of him to get them into smaller, more organized piles.
Hours passed by before Chikt finally stood before the contents of Warehouse Three once more. Piles of food to his left. Different stacks of cloth to his right. Items of little value to the guild behind him in a wagon to be taken to the auction house and sold off. There were piles of similar items scattered all through the warehouse. He’d still have to go through and make sure everything on his checklist was there, which is what he was in the process of doing now. In his clawed hands he held a clipboard, scratching out the words written across it in numerous different languages and scrawls – all of the people depositing or withdrawing items establishing exactly what goes in and comes out of that specific warehouse.
As he sifted through the items in the wagon, he came across one particular item that had appeared curious to him before. A carved blood-red gemstone head. A male humans head, to be exact. It was quite a morbid item to be sure, but Chikt simply had passed it off as one of the guilds gem cutters getting overly creative with their profession. That was until he went over every page clipped to his board, and found no history for the deposit of a gemstone head.
It was unusual for an item to go into one of the Raven Cross warehouses without Chikt knowing about it, so this was a mystery to be sure. But not a bad one. Grinning wickedly to himself, he picked up the crystal head and tossed it aside next to his shoulder bag. If there was no record of it being in the guild bank, it wouldn’t be missed if he were to sell it for a little personal profit. He knew that it was the wrong thing to do, but it wasn’t much like Dio was paying him overtime for this job.
It would be an hour more before Chikt had gone through all the items in the warehouse. The only item out of place was the Gemstone Head, so he was satisfied. But in order for him to start putting things away on shelves, he needed to get all the unnecessary stuff out of the Warehouse and into the Auction House. Walking over to his shoulder bag, he picked up the gemstone head and shoved it in before slinging the bag over his head and looking to the wagon.
Unlike most Goblins, he didn’t feel safe having is stuff dragged by large, red explosive rockets. He had decided to go with the far safer route of the kart being dragged by one of the many kodo from Diomades’ stables. It seemed happy to be out and about, even if it was dragging a big heavy wagon. Clambering onto the wagon, Chikt grabbed the rope he’d tied to the Kodo’s harness and gave it a whip. The Kodo began to trudge out into the sunlight.
The Raven Cross’ Warehouses sat just beneath the cliffs overlooking Ratchet. They were not visited often or really well known – it was by and large Chikt’s realm. They used to be personal warehouses, housing all his engineering project and items collected across the years. As the Raven Cross grew so did its required space, and now Chikt only had a single warehouse of his own remaining. He didn’t mind – he had little time to do engineering so much these days.
He gave the Kodo another whip and it grunted as it exerted itself a little more, beginning to gallop as best as it could with a belly so low-lying to the ground, and Chikt followed the coastline towards Orgrimmar, unaware that he was being watched by a human death knight that stood on one of the high cliffs of the Barrens. The Death Knight watched silently for a long moment before rearing up his horse and taking off down the hill after the goblin.
Chikt heard the thumping of hooves on the craggily dirt and thought nothing of it initially, until he heard the oddly echoing ‘Hyah!’. Looking over his shoulders, his eyes widened as the death knight came up just behind him and swung his sword at his head. Chikt barely ducked in time to avoid it, jumping back to his feet atop a bunch of the items sitting in the back of the wagon and trying not to slip. The Death Knight scowled through the holes in his helm at the goblin. Chikt glanced around himself for something to use.
He frowned as the nearest, heaviest object was a bar of gold – totally useless to the guild now as a material, but it still held SOME value! So he reached for the next thing closest to him – a stack of linen cloth – and tossed it at the Death Knights head. The cloth clung to his spiked mask, prompting the Death Knight to reach up with a gauntleted hand to try and tear the cloth off, growling in frustration. When he tore the cloth away to glare at the goblin once more, Chikt shakily held a large, two-handed axe in his arms and swung it at the Death Knights head with a yell.
The blade of the axe connected with the Death Knights plate helmet – and simply got wedged in the thick metal. Merely making the knight look far more pissed off and a bit more top-heavy. The knight grabbed the base of his helmet and took it off, letting it thud along the ground behind him. Chikt gulped as he came face to face with the Knight, his skin pale and eyes glowing blue. He swang again at Chikt, only to have his sword crash into the wagon and miss the speedy goblin once more.
Chikt tripped over backwards as he tried to dodge another swipe from the Death Knight, sending several items tumbling out of the wagon. He tried to find another item of use, when he found something before him and smirked. He snatched up several items and began to work quickly as the Knight slashed again at the wagon, sending splinters flying.
When Chikt next stood up, he was grinning wickedly. The Death Knight glared at him – but his gaze was short lived and replaced by something more akin to panic as Chikt hefted a flaming glass bottle before tossing it at the knights head.
The explosion was a lot larger than the Goblin could have predicted, but explosions usually worked that way as an engineer. The Death Knight was sent flying from his mount, and Chikt was sent flying from the wagon as it tipped over and the ropes snapped. The Kodo and Death Charger continuing to run onwards in a panic. Chikt groaned and picked himself up from the dirt, glancing over at the Death Knight. His face was on fire, shards of glass sticking out of his tough, pale skin.
Limping over to the knight, Chikt kicked him in the ribs. “I gotta say, you’re on fire today big guy!” He chuckled at his own joke and glanced around himself.
Nobody was ever around to hear the good ones.
Kneeling down beside the Death Knight, he began to rifle through his armor before coming upon a pocket watch. He flipped it open and immediately recognized the symbol – he’d seen Dio carrying a similar watch after a quest in Outland. It belonged to the Cult of the Damned. Along with it was a note with orders to retrieve the Gemstone Head for the good of the Empire and return it to the Dragonblight, signed simply with “Tsar Vox”.
Chikt sighed and folded the note up. He had a fair idea of where this Tsar would be given Dio’s stories about the Cult of the Damned in the Dragonblight. He pulled out his Hearth Stone and bought it to his ear before speaking into it. “Hey, Dio! I need your help with somethin’!”
There was a brief pause before the distant sound of battle filled his ear, Diomades voice bellowing out over it. “You can clean up the Warehouse on your own, Chikt! I’m kinda busy right now!”
Before Chikt could respond, the sound disappeared again. He sighed, looked to the toppled cart, before looking to the dead Death Knight. “Looks like it’s just you an’ me then.”
Several hours later, a slightly damaged wagon full of items pulled by a Death Charger rode in through the entry to the Onyx Dragonshrine. The Death Knight at the helm of the wagon seemed to waver slightly from side to side as the wagon bounced along the slippery cobblestones, a large gash in his helmet. The few Cult of the Damned in the area that cared to notice the odd knight looked at him with quirked brows for only a moment before returning to their work. The Death Knight simply stared forward with dead eyes.
Chikt cowered beneath a stack of cloth and armor in the back of the wagon, hoping the makeshift support he’d rigged up to keep the Death Knight sitting upright would hold long enough. Eventually he felt it become far hotter, and the wagon came to a stop. Not hearing any movement around him, Chikt climbed out of underneath all the items in the wagon and dropped to the ground. He glanced around the large cavern. Lava was everywhere and the change in temperature made his head spin.
There was a dim creaking noise that caught his attention, coming from the dead Death Knight. Glancing up at the corpse, it slowly began to tip over to the side as the branch supporting it gave and snapped. The corpse slumped off the side of the cart and crumpled to the floor of the cave with a clang. Chikt winced as the sound echoed and he heard movement come from the opposite side of the cavern, ducking behind the Death Knights corpse.
He cowered there quietly as the sound of footsteps got closer and closer, before finally stopping. Blinking, he looked up before he was smacked hard across his head and he slumped to the ground, barely catching a glimpse of the skeleton that had struck him before he felt himself being dragged across the smooth floor of the cave.
When Chikt came to, he was in a dark part of the cave, and could barely make out a figure before him flanked by two skeletons by his sides. Chikt groaned and climbed to his feet, rubbing the stubbly hair on the back of his neck as the figure before him spoke in an empty voice, not unlike a Death Knight. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
The Goblin shrugged and shifted on his heels. “The people in my Guild have killed a LOT of people and taken their stuff, you’re gunna have to be more specific.”
The figure turned and it suddenly occurred to Chikt that whatever it was, it had no head on its shoulders – the rest of its body covered in heavy metal armor. Chikt tried not to smirk. “Oh. I understand. You must be Tsar Vox. You’re just trying to get a head. ”
He glanced around himself with a grin before frowning slowly.
Nobody was ever around to hear the good ones.
The figure sighed and clicked his fingers. One of the skeletons stepped forward and kicked Chikt in the chest, sending the goblin back into the cave wall with a grunt. The gemstone head rolling out of his shoulder bag. Chikt lay slumped against the wall, watching as the skeleton gathered up the head and turned back to his master, handing it over. Taking the head from his minion, the Tsar placed the head upon his shoulders – the empty eyesockets lit up with a brilliant blue in contrast to the gemstones blood red.
The glowing eyes turned to look at Chikt, before the once-headless death knight motioned to his minions and he spoke apathetically. “Dispose of the goblin.”
Chikt looked up at the Tsar raised his voice a moment. “Before you kill me, can you tell me how your head got turned into a gemstone? I mean, I’m assuming that it’s yours.”
The Tsar stared at Chikt for a long moment, seemingly considering the request, before speaking in the hollow tone once more. “A sacrifice. For power. One of your people, the ones bearing the black cross, decided it would be funny to steal my head and deny me of my power. Now, you have returned it to me. I will create my empire without conflict, and this “Raven Cross” of yours will die for their transgressions against me and my empire to be.”
Turning, the Death Knight pulled a helm over his crystal head. Chikt grinned wickedly before he spoke quietly. “Can’t let you do that, Tsar Vox.”
The Death Knight groaned and looked back at the Goblin – who now held a small metal pad above his head, with a large red button upon it. “Want to see an example of good plastic explosives at work? I’m glad you put your helmet on, because I’m about to blow your mind.”
The Death Knight’s glowing blue eyes flashed brighter and larger as he stepped forward to snatch the device out of Chikts hand. The Goblin glanced around himself before he sighed and grinned sadistically.
Nobody was ever around to hear the good ones.
Moments later outside the Onyx Dragonshrine, there was a low thud from deep within the cavern, smoke and dust rushing outside the gaping earthern dragon maw that made up the entrance to the cave. Chikt stumbled out from it, covering his mouth and coughing loudly. Glancing around himself, it was then that Chikt noticed the skeletons and dark-skinned cultists in the area all staring at him. He smirked slowly and pulled a string of grenades from his belt.
Several simultaneous explosions sounded off from the Onyx Dragonshrine as smoke billowed up towards the night sky.
The sun was slowly rising as Chikt limped back into Ratchet. His jeans, boots, shirt and tabard were all torn, burned in a few spots, bloodied in others and covered in brownish-grey dust all over. He carefully pushed open the doors to Warehouse three and slumped against the wall with a sigh, closing his eyes.
That was until he heard the deep clearing of a throat and looked up to see Diomades towering over him. Chikt gave a little salute to the Patriach before greeting him between shallow breaths. “Hey, Dio…”
The Tauren sighed and crossed his arms. “You were off playing with explosives, weren’t you?”
Before Chikt could answer, Diomades had already started berating him. “I am not paying you overtime to just go and create wacky inventions, Chikt! I need you to stay focussed!”
Opening his mouth to reply, Chikt paused a moment before blinking and then speaking finally. “Wait, overtime?”
Diomades nodded. “Well, yes. Do you think I’d just let a friend do all this work without giving them something for it? I appreciate the help. I wouldn’t not pay you for it.”
Chikt blinked and jumped to his feet as though he wasn’t hurt at all, giving the Tauren a far more brisk salute. “Yes sir! I’ll get this warehouse fixed up by noon!”
Diomades smiled and nodded. “Good. I’ll go and organize Warehouse Four while you finish up here. Thanks, Chikt.” The Tauren rubbed the Goblin’s bald head before walking out of Warehouse Three, leaving a smiling Chikt to return to his work with a happy whistle.
A few hours later as Diomades finished separating the contents of Warehouse 4 into neat piles and was in the midst of checking off everything on the list of the Warehouse’s supposed contents when he came across a piece of parchment – the apparent deed to an ancient boat. It was then that he noticed a note written on the bottom of it, reading it to himself aloud. “If found, please return to Harrison Jones...?”
Shrugging, he lay the deed to an apparently missing boat aside.
“I’m sure Chikt will work it out.”