The Doctor Is In

[Villinger]

Orgrimmar echoed with voices in the many languages of the Hore. Laughter rang true through even the darkest sections of the Drag. Midday, when Durotar was at its hottest, was the time it was at its busiest. The Auction House thrived with buyers and sellers. The streets thronged with masses, buying supplies for expeditions or greeting long lost friends. Someone played a cheery tune on a piccolo while others cavorted around him. Hawkers from throughout Azeroth advertised their wares, shouting to be heard above the din. Weaving in between their booths and carts were little orcs chasing chickens and wolf pups.

The noise, the life-living excitement of it was completely lost on the form huddled with his cloak wrapped around his head like a shawl. Here was an undead that clearly was out of place midst the rabble. He stuck to the edge of the thoroughfare, shrinking away from others and turning his nose up at beggars. Every so often, a bony finger reached to tighten the fabric as though the thin wool would protect him somehow.

He passed a large group milled around the tavern. He attempted to skirt them, but a laughing troll backed up against him and he flinched. The cloaked figure's hand flew to the head of his mace, ready to pull it out in case the brush turned to something sinister.

The troll turned about and stepped back, her face friendly and bright, "Don't choo worry mon. Chill out! I be sorry for hittin' choo."

"You should be!" The overdressed undead scoffed at her.

She narrowed her eyes and then smiled brightly and laughed her pale white face. "Oh mon! As dey say in mah village o' Sen'Jinn... don't worry!" Two hands reached out and shook his shoulders as she laughed in the delighted way which only trolls can and then warpped her arms aroun him in a hug.

Shocked, he recoiled in abject horror and froze while the fightening event happened. Her strength was greater and the mail about her body dug into his remaining flesh. He could smell the earthy aroma of her unwashed dreadlocks and the heady rush of day old troll sweat that they enjoyed bottling for who knows what purpose.

She released him finally and he hurried off, only he was not fast enough to escape her long reach as she pinched his behind. He rushed away to the sound of her laughter and a flirty goodbye.

[Villinger]

His pace quickened and the shawl fell back, showing a bald grotesque scalp rotten with years of decay. Thin whisps of clay-coloured hair clung abotu his ears. Only the ears themselves looked fresh and whole, almost brand new. It wasn't long before he hit the climb up to the entrance to the Drag an his breathing grew laboured. He wheezed, coughed but still kept up his hurried pace.

Every so often, he gave a furtive glance backward, watching for something or perhaps someone. So he was startled as a voice near his feet asked, "A few silver for a poor lass, sir? I'd like to fly to Ratchet to see my cousin." Her bright blue eyes entreated him.

"Dregs...society's dregs!" He gasped while flipping the hem of his dress robes away from the kneeling beggar. "Soon no more!" She gave him a rude gesture as he rushed away.

"It's despicable. Despicable." At the mailbox, he turned right and ran down the corridor until he came out into the sunlight. From here he knew the basic directions to the Ring of Valor so did not stop to smell the cooking fish or watch the weapon masters spar as most people tended to do.

He ran right up to the Ring of Valor.

[Villinger]

The Ring of Valor smelled of a place long disused. Created to be a showcase of all the gladiatorial glory of the orcs, it tended to only be used for the odd meeting and by amourous young horde who needed a place to tryst within the city limits. Musty blankets spattered throughout the stands, left for the next meaningless caress.

The undead sneered and kicked one of the blankets away. Other than lusty orcs, the Ring had only been used by the Nether Council. Their meetings were few and far between. The Ring lay empty.

Only the undead knew that it wasn't empty this noon. He anticipated smoeone to be there, waiting somewhere in the shadows. So it was without surprise that he heard a deep masculine voice say, "You are late, Villinger."

He bowed deeply towards the voice and released the cloak, which fell off his head onto the floor. From his prostrated position, he spoke in a muffled voice. "I had to take precautions. These are dangerous times for me."

"How so?" Another voice, this time nasal, feminine, and full of disdain, asked.

"If-if I may, my lords and lady," Villinger partially stuttered as he dug about in his robe. "I have written notes to keep you informed of my work--"

"--Our investement." The booming voice interrupted.

"--Yes...yes... your investement." Villinger cleared his throat, shaking violently. "I just have to find the cards... my notebook was destroyed when I was attacked by some hooligans."

This time, it was a non-descript voice, the tye of voice you could and have a hard time remembering what it sounded like, asked, "You were attacked?"

"Oh yes m'lord. Many times. I outined them in my...ah my notes." Villinger pulled them out and stood straight, then turned a bit and held the notes out so little amount of light in the dim area could light up his parchment. He used the opportunity to take a look at the bodies connected to the three voices only to see three darkly shadowed figures that rippled as though a wall of water were between them. There was no way to discern their forms only he knew from the height that one was tool tall to be anything but Tauren and the other two were of a height, the middle female leaned against a staff twice her size. "I just need some light to se--"

A globe of fire blasted against the wall beside him and engulfed a torch in flames. Villinger gulped and stammered out his gratitude. Then he began, this voice hollow while he read word for word. "First off, the collars are a success and on the first batch too. They arrived from Gadgetzan via ship and were unloaded safely with no malfunctions as far as I am aware. All are attuned to myself and my minion Holdeng."

"We are most pleased with your design." The woman practically purred. "Our money was put to good use there."

"Oh yes m'lady. I assure you that all initial patient collaring has been successful. I have written in my notes..." He shuffled back a few pages and held up his card, "... about some of the patients we have taken in and some we have collared to ensure the safety of Azeroth."

She seemed nonplussed to this. "Not all the collared are within the Asylum?"

"No. No as Holdeng has decided..."

She giggled. "From the rumours it seems Holdeng makes most of your decisions."

Villinger gulped. "I mean... I believe it's best that, until we have the Asylum completely built, we allow all these patients a sense of freedom by letting them roam around Azeroth. It will make them more docile when the second phase of the experiment is put into process in a few months."

It was the large one with the booming voice who growled, "Continue with your report and make it quick. We are very busy."

"I understand." Villinger bobbed his head a little and then cleared his throat. "In financial matters, so far I have been allocated 60,000 gold per Horde race of which only a small percentage, perhaps 0.002% has gone into food and clothing for the patients but they barely need anything and I intended it to be lower. A majority of the funds has gone to the goblins in Gadgetzan to pay for the collars and attuning them to myself and my minion. I had some money put away to pay for the initial building of the Asylum although I intend to use the patients themselves to build the remainder. Research has been the next highest percentage at 15% as that includes potions, experimentation devices, ecetera. That leaves... nearly nothing for any possible unfortunate circumstances."

"You blew all our money already?" The booming voice snarled.

"All expenditures were necessary." Villinger's response seemed small and whiny so quickly he moved onto the next point. "I have had many successes. After visiting a place called the Rest Inn Peace Tavern, I was able to profile some members of the Horde who epitomized the description of what I have termed the 'Lazy Horde' as it were." He laughed nervously. "Frist an orc by the name of Okhu who has an unhealthy anger. I hadn't been in the tavern for ten minutes before she threatened my life and attacked me." To the woman's laughter, Villinger frowned, be he added, "While her existence has now become the bane of my work, it is another who she fraternizes with that has led my work in a direction I could have only dreamed possible."

"Niethan is a troll who has multiple personalities. While two of these personalities are useless, one is of great importance because this one named 'The Watcher...'" He peered at his notes and then corrected himself, "...er 'Witness' I will look further into this one as I hope to somehow use this personality and how he came into existence...then attempt to replicate it with the other patients. Niethan has been collared, but remains free to roam Azeroth."

Before they could comment, he piped up, "I have sought out Infection as you asked and they have promised aid. In fact, Lifebanes Keraph, Jergal, and Skyze all agreed to assist and protect the Asylum as we all work for a better Azeroth. They lost members of their group over the decision. They assure me that this is no great loss because Infection is not for the weak." The admiration in his voice was unmistakenable.

The murmuring from his audience sounded positive so Villinger flipped to the next card. "Now to speak about the ones I have collared. Especially the one named Miyalel. Last night, Holdeng rounded her up from the Rest Inn Peace and we brought her down into the experimentation rooms in the basement to discover her inner fears. She has an ingrained fear of stampeding Tauren so I intend to replicate her fear and see if I can pull out a..." He paused and re-read his notes, "..'Witness' out of her. Once done, we will be able to manipulate that personality to improve her."

"How do you intend to replicate her fear. We will not pay for Tauren to stampede."

"It's the image that's important. I will use much experimentation--"

"--Torture?"

"Oh yes of course. She has been volatile so I have put a leash on her, in a sense. A half week ago, she and this undead priestess sent me on a headless chicken spree around the graveyard in Brill. That night I was beaten senselessly, cornered in the Gallow's End Tavern and then held against my will. With a mass of like-minded mages, they spell-assaulted me which destroyed my notebook! It would still be a dire situation indeed if Archmage Skyze hadn't promised to fix my notebook by arcane means. Hopefully all my research has not been lost. Has not been in vain."

"Holdeng should have told you to write a second copy of your work." Villinger was aware of the dripping sarcasm from the woman's voice.

He attempted to ignore the comment as it wasn't a direct question. "So in result, I have taken a firmer hand with her although I am kept to my office most times to ensure the safety of this mission. I have sent my minion out into the Barrens to collar the insane and imbecilic out there. I assure you there will be many. The Barrens is full of them."

The non-descript voice asked, "I understand you were deaf for awhile?"

Embarrassed, Villinger paled. "My ears were eaten by the insane undead priestess. I wish I could remember her name, but the shock was too much. She called herself 'Thrall'... no doubt believing herself to be the orc Chieftain himself. I will keep an eye out for her."

"Make sure she doesn't eat your eye too."

They all chuckled and Villinger fiddled with his cards until they stopped.

[Villinger]

He cleared his throat. "There are more collared. I am proud about collaring Rienfield, a tauren who has prove that not all Taurens are followers of the Earthmother. He claims to be... get this... undead!" He started laughing and slowly droned off as he realised none of the others were laughing with him.

He cleared his throat again. "He is extremely frustrating and I had to collar him myself. His delusion is so complete that when he looks in the mirror he sees decrepit flesh and not horns. I collared him in Mulgore, but now he wanders Tirisfal Glades, working for the Forsaken. I admit they find it all amusing, but I intend to harness him for use. His strength will come in handy and until we find a way to break his delusion, I will encourage it within him."

"As for orcs, we have a few. A senile old bat by the name of Granna who wants to join in the war effort, when she's clearly too old to do anything useful except knit socks and cook. She's playing at being shaman and for now she's such entertainment..." He shrugged.

"We have a young warlock named Korrd. Absolute moron. Completely nether-touche to the head. He wasn't even aware of how he summoned his imp. He's not too much trouble and I believe he could possibly be an excellent example of a reintroduced idiot.

"For trolls, we have a young huntress named Zulaja who turned herself in. My advertising campaign in all the cities is clearly bringing them in. She thinks she's insane, though I have not found much to agree with her except for the obnoxious troll accent she speaks with. Otherwise she's working hard for the Asylum so I have nothing to complain about keeping her collared."

"Two others I haven't dealt with too often. A violent one named Morrados and a hunter named Burujin. Holdeng collared them."

[Villinger]

Villinger flipped cards to the one that was underlined a few times. "After I have outlined my successes... I was hoping that I could bring up an issue that happened with my incident with the 'Thrall' psychotic. She stole my communicator and I do not have the funds to have a new one replaced because it's something that needs to be aligned with all the collars. So... I was hoping you could fund a reward of perhaps a hundred gold for its return."

They all started laughing.

Whining Villinger cried, "Maybe at least ten?!?"

"Fine!" The booming voice laughed. "Ten gold for the return of your communicator. Now our meeting is done." With a flash that sent Villinger rocking on his heels backwards, they were gone.

He yelled at the smoking space where they had been, "I didn't get to bring up all my points!" There was no response. Disappointed, but still cautious for his life was at stake, Villinger rushed back to the sanctity of his Asylum.

Say hullo to the Good Doctor, Azeroth.

[Noury]

(( This is fascinating stuff! Who are the ones in the shadows I wonder? Excellent idea here.. ))