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An unassuming book sits on a small table in Piri’s bunk near SI:7 in Stormwind, the cover pulled back, exposing the hundreds of blank sheets within. Next to the book lay a pair of goggles with a couple of spinning gears and flashing lights. And pushed to the back of the tabletop, lay a quill and strange vial of ink. It seems I have finally got that alchemist to perfect his Disappearing Ink. The first trial run ended up burning into the parchments. The second disappeared for a day or say, then reappeared. We cleverly named this one, the Disappearing-Reappering Ink. I suppose it could have it’s purposes, so I keep a few vials of the liquid in storage. Regardless, I work under the most strict confidentiality. The work I do, the work I LIVE for, resides within the covers of this book. The goggles will locate the ink. We have not found any other way to expose what is written within these pages. We tried just about everything... Anyway. I have my G.N.I.C.O.M. [Genuinely Neat Image Capturing Object Materializer] camera ready to take with me for the G.I.R.O. mission. I have been employed to seek out the dealings of the Horde and to find prime locations for future missions, staging grounds and all around evil doings. I honestly do not see this being a problem. Those Horde are filled with nothing but evil-doers. No matter though. They may spread their slandering propaganda about us; us gnomes, but they seem to quickly shut their traps when the BACKS OF THE KNEES ARE CUT WIDE OPEN. Well, that isn’t true. They tend to scream. But when I pull that razor wire across their throats when they topple over...well, then they shut up. WHO’S DOING THE KICKING NOW?! My reports, written in NON-Disappearing ink, will be filed here and a copy will be delivered to the High Tinker for his review. Photographs and other things I may come across may be stored within the covers of this book as well. Some may call this research, others will call it spying. I call it a good day’s work. On a completely unrelated note. The walls of Gnomeregan remain the same. I make trips back there, seeing if I can find any survivors, find any doodads from the past or just to take a nice stroll through one of the old Downtown areas, kicking a few troggs out of the way in the process. Despite the rancid smell and the possibly toxic fumes, I still love it. Our home. It was merely a set back. The irradiation and all. People FAIL to see just how BRILLIANT our race is. WE were made in the eyes of the Makers, so we have come to find out. WE were once brilliant machines thousands of years ago. WE were...no...WE ARE PERFECTION. None of them, the high-altitude mouth breathers will ever grasp this. So we will teach them. One day. From the humans to the Tauren. Every last one of them will know, who is perfection and who their rightful rulers are. A creation of the Makers with one purpose. To rule over the lesser creatures! Hail Gnomeregan. Time to roll out. I believe my first location to visit is the human’s old northern kingdom.
[Open primarily to gnomes! ...Though other superior races may comment or what have you.] The pink tufts paced back and forth amongst the crowds of comers and goers through the area of Ironforge called Tinker Town. The area was loud, even without the common folk. The churning of the gears, the loud release of the steam valves, the general hum of the motors and gadgets. But none of that really mattered to Emyi. She had received a missive from the High Tinker himself, asking for her to Tinker Town for an urgent mission. It was the first time over the past few years the High Tinker had called upon her. She could remember very well the one time she was asked to head into Gnomeregan for one reason or another by order of the Mekkatorque. And, being the stupidly proud gnome she was, she did so far too willingly. This was the sort of thing she lived for. To fight in the name of the once proud city of Gnomeregan! ...But hell, she hated waiting. A couple of the people passing by bumped into the short gnome, knocking her off balance more than a few times. Of course, she would retaliate with a rude “WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU ARE GOING!”. She even managed to dead-leg one of them, causing a bit of a scene as the gnome climbed up onto the toppled body of the draenei only to end up punching him square in the nose for that ‘look’ he gave her. The Ironforge guards had their work cut out for them. She was just about to give up and storm off when one of the Gnomish advisers pushed his way through the crowd to the plate covered gnome. “Miss Sp-Sp-Sp-pragglebolt?” the seemingly nervous gnome said. “Spit it out. High Tinker going to finally see me?” she snorted and gave the trembling gnome the ol’ stink eye. He jumped and pulled a roll of parchment from his pouch and held it out to her. “Er...no. Some very importan--important p-p-p-p-p-p-plans with the upcoming Op-p-p-p-p-peration is holding him up. Er...he..that is, Mekka--I mean the High Tinker wanted me to give yo-y-yo-you this message. H-H-He..” Emyi snatched the parchment and gave a dismissive wave to the stuttering, and now sweaty, mess of a gnome. “Just shut up and go..” He let out a shaky sigh and quickly ran back into the depths of Tinker Town. Emyi sighed. “Coulda just sent this in the mail...what a waste of time...” She broke the seal of wax and unrolled the parchment. “By Order of the High Tinker Mekkatorque of Gnomeregan and Overlooker of the mighty Gnomish Tram System, you are hereby ordered into sevice. Emyi Spragglebolt, your mission is to help gather soldiers for the upcoming Operation in hopes of taking back out beloved city back from those rotten, smelly, greasy, irradiated Troggs. Only the brightest and bravest of soldiers are required for this specific branch of the Operation. You are ordered to prepare the uniforms for the recruits and prepare them for the worst! Train them! Show them what it is like to be a proud gnome in the service of Mekkatorque! ...This message will spontaneously combust in 3 seconds.” Emyi blinked a few times, tilting her head, “How will they know when three se--” She was cut off as the parchment burst into flames in her gauntlets and instantly was reduced to ash. She hesitated, looking around to see if there was a mage or some other sort of magic user around who may have done that while she wasn’t looking. No one. “Color me impressed,” she said with a grin on her face. “Well, looks like it is time to form up a group. But we need a name...hmmm...” she spun on her heels and made for the Commons, curling her hands behind her head. “The...Gnomish...Inquisition. Yeah. Has a nice, solid ring to it. And NOBODY will question the Gnomish Inquisition, damnit! And I know just the people to help get this thing rolling!"