Post by Gidgiddoni on Dec 11, 2008 9:10:25 GMT -5
Gibble scratched his little head and twiddled with the end of his long moustache. He looked to the right and to the left. He sighed and looked back at the guard, ashamed to ask for directions a third time.
“Where is dis trainer what teach me hows to dig up ores from the ground so I soon be rich and somebody nigh on important wearing fancy cloth jacket to keep me warm when I lounging about in de winters?” he asked.
“You mean the mining trainer?” the guard grouched.
“Aint dat what I jest done said in so many words more or less to mean the same thing?” replied the diminutive death knight.
“You keep rattling off questions and I keep answering and you keep coming back asking the same question with different words,” said the dwarf, as he slowly raised his sword and pointed toward an unseen point in the distance. “Down yonder a ways and around the corner in a small shop you will find the mining trainer.”
Gibble nodded and scampered off into the dark corridors of Ironforge. He went around a corner and up some stairs and through a doorway and then down more stairs and found himself in a room filled with skins and furs of beasts. The place was very hot and smelled worse than monkey breath. The gnome felt a sick feeling in his belly and wished he hadn’t eaten an entire pie after lunch.
“Can I help you?” chirped one of the shopkeepers, barely looking up from the colorful animal hide he was beating with a stick.
“Joo don’t look like no miner I never saw, so I dun tink joo be much help teaching me how to dig the dirt until I am wealthy gnome,” said Gibble.
“Bah, the mining instructor is three doors down, but hear me now and believe me later, de money very good with the skinning of the beasts,” was the response.
“To be sure joo is pulling on my wee leg!” Gibble said.
“I not be pulling anything of yours. But if you wish to make riches in the lands then you learn to skin and you learn to dig the ores,” was the reply.
“True enough? You means I cans larn me two professions all at once at the same time and then make many coppers and golds and buy pet kittens and snakes and maybe even a chicken from the Shimmering Flats?” Gibble said in a thoroughly astonished manner.
The shopkeeper nodded.
“Well signs me up for dese riches of which you speaks!”
The man handed Gibble a small book titled, “Skinning for Gnomes and other Dummies” and he also gave him a brand new skinning knife.
“Keep the knife in yer pack at all times. You never know when you might have to skin a crocodile or wolf or bear,” said the trainer.
“I can now go skins all the beasts in Nagrands and other places where they giant turtles and great big boars the size of a zeppelin,” Gibble said proudly.
“Oh now, hold on there young spark. First you have to train on the small foxes and hounds and rabbits in the lands where the youth hunt. Then, one day you might be able to skin the beasts found in the great jungles,” the trainer said sternly.
“No ways!” Gibble snorted. “I ams death knight killer of everythin’ I ever done seen afore my wee eyeballs. I dun wish to trifle with skinning wabbits!”
“Way! Wabbits you will skin and many a snake and small gazelle too!” the trainer smiled.
“Tarnation,” Gibble grumbled as he took the book and skinning knife and headed out to find the mining trainer. When he located the shop he saw two dwarfs busy stacking bars of gold and copper and other metals he didn’t recognize. Clink, clank, clunk, clink, clank, clunk - the sounds chimed in a monotonous tone. The dwarfs didn’t bother to look up from their work.
Gibble cleared his throat. “Allo der mens. I be Gibble and I wish to larn how to dig up dem fancy stones what make me wealthy beyond me wildest dreams!”
“Do ye now?” said one of the two without pausing to look at the gnome.
“Truly I does,” replied Gibble.
“Grab one of those picks, and grab that book. Read the book and then go where the children hunt little tiny wolves and maybe you can learn something about getting’ rich,” the old dwarf said.
“Whut? Joo mean tell me they nar any ways for me to speed-read this book and maybe two or three more like it so that I can goes out for to mine the great new lands and soon be toting sacks full of riches?” Gibble whined.
“Nope,” said the dwarf, still not looking up.
“Well aint dis jest dandy for sure. Here I ams, mighty death knight riding on grand deathcharger and they tells me I gots to go plays with children and pick up they scraps for to learn skinning and dig up tiny rocks and maybe one day I amount to something,” Gibble muttered and fussed as he made his way to the gates of the great city.
He rode quickly down the hill in front of Ironforge toward Kharanos. Within minutes he spotted a glittering pile of copper rocks. He jumped from his mount and began to dig at the ore. Tink, tink, tink, went the small mining pick. Just as Gibble bent over to pick up the ore, a wolf snarled and lunged and bit him on the bottom.
“Yeeow!” he yelped as he jumped straight up, scattering ore on the fresh snow. He whirled around, and with a slice from his greatsword he killed the animal. He picked up the ore, lopped a furry paw from the wolf then proceeded to nearly slice off three of his fingers as he tried to skin it.
“Oh, dis truly shameful,” he whispered. “Me being a mighty death knight and can’t even properly skin a mangy wolf.”
Just as he returned to try the skinning again a galloping horse bounded over a hill and skidded to a stop near him in a flurry of snow and ice. It was another deathcharger and Gibble watched with interest as a lady gnome hopped from the mount and pounced on a nearby plant. She stooped over and began to yank and huff and tug on the flowering growth.
“Out, out, weed!” the gnome commanded, and with a great heave she pulled it up by the roots and shoved it in a satchel.
The death knight, wearing her hair a long ponytail and now smiling, was about to mount and ride away when she noticed Gibble rummaging with his rocks. He tried to look impressive as he raised the wolf skin he had finally managed to retrieve.
She blinked at him and he blinked at her. Both seemed somewhat embarrassed to be seen in the lands of the young ones. They might have gawked at each other for a long while if she had not spoken first.
“A fine pelt ya have there,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said. “I am thinking it will make a fine lining for me boots.”
“Truly,” she replied.
He watched as she brushed the dirt from her tiny fingers and when she looked back at him he blinked again.
“I ams called Gibble,” he somehow managed to say.
“And I am Selki,” she replied.
“Where is dis trainer what teach me hows to dig up ores from the ground so I soon be rich and somebody nigh on important wearing fancy cloth jacket to keep me warm when I lounging about in de winters?” he asked.
“You mean the mining trainer?” the guard grouched.
“Aint dat what I jest done said in so many words more or less to mean the same thing?” replied the diminutive death knight.
“You keep rattling off questions and I keep answering and you keep coming back asking the same question with different words,” said the dwarf, as he slowly raised his sword and pointed toward an unseen point in the distance. “Down yonder a ways and around the corner in a small shop you will find the mining trainer.”
Gibble nodded and scampered off into the dark corridors of Ironforge. He went around a corner and up some stairs and through a doorway and then down more stairs and found himself in a room filled with skins and furs of beasts. The place was very hot and smelled worse than monkey breath. The gnome felt a sick feeling in his belly and wished he hadn’t eaten an entire pie after lunch.
“Can I help you?” chirped one of the shopkeepers, barely looking up from the colorful animal hide he was beating with a stick.
“Joo don’t look like no miner I never saw, so I dun tink joo be much help teaching me how to dig the dirt until I am wealthy gnome,” said Gibble.
“Bah, the mining instructor is three doors down, but hear me now and believe me later, de money very good with the skinning of the beasts,” was the response.
“To be sure joo is pulling on my wee leg!” Gibble said.
“I not be pulling anything of yours. But if you wish to make riches in the lands then you learn to skin and you learn to dig the ores,” was the reply.
“True enough? You means I cans larn me two professions all at once at the same time and then make many coppers and golds and buy pet kittens and snakes and maybe even a chicken from the Shimmering Flats?” Gibble said in a thoroughly astonished manner.
The shopkeeper nodded.
“Well signs me up for dese riches of which you speaks!”
The man handed Gibble a small book titled, “Skinning for Gnomes and other Dummies” and he also gave him a brand new skinning knife.
“Keep the knife in yer pack at all times. You never know when you might have to skin a crocodile or wolf or bear,” said the trainer.
“I can now go skins all the beasts in Nagrands and other places where they giant turtles and great big boars the size of a zeppelin,” Gibble said proudly.
“Oh now, hold on there young spark. First you have to train on the small foxes and hounds and rabbits in the lands where the youth hunt. Then, one day you might be able to skin the beasts found in the great jungles,” the trainer said sternly.
“No ways!” Gibble snorted. “I ams death knight killer of everythin’ I ever done seen afore my wee eyeballs. I dun wish to trifle with skinning wabbits!”
“Way! Wabbits you will skin and many a snake and small gazelle too!” the trainer smiled.
“Tarnation,” Gibble grumbled as he took the book and skinning knife and headed out to find the mining trainer. When he located the shop he saw two dwarfs busy stacking bars of gold and copper and other metals he didn’t recognize. Clink, clank, clunk, clink, clank, clunk - the sounds chimed in a monotonous tone. The dwarfs didn’t bother to look up from their work.
Gibble cleared his throat. “Allo der mens. I be Gibble and I wish to larn how to dig up dem fancy stones what make me wealthy beyond me wildest dreams!”
“Do ye now?” said one of the two without pausing to look at the gnome.
“Truly I does,” replied Gibble.
“Grab one of those picks, and grab that book. Read the book and then go where the children hunt little tiny wolves and maybe you can learn something about getting’ rich,” the old dwarf said.
“Whut? Joo mean tell me they nar any ways for me to speed-read this book and maybe two or three more like it so that I can goes out for to mine the great new lands and soon be toting sacks full of riches?” Gibble whined.
“Nope,” said the dwarf, still not looking up.
“Well aint dis jest dandy for sure. Here I ams, mighty death knight riding on grand deathcharger and they tells me I gots to go plays with children and pick up they scraps for to learn skinning and dig up tiny rocks and maybe one day I amount to something,” Gibble muttered and fussed as he made his way to the gates of the great city.
He rode quickly down the hill in front of Ironforge toward Kharanos. Within minutes he spotted a glittering pile of copper rocks. He jumped from his mount and began to dig at the ore. Tink, tink, tink, went the small mining pick. Just as Gibble bent over to pick up the ore, a wolf snarled and lunged and bit him on the bottom.
“Yeeow!” he yelped as he jumped straight up, scattering ore on the fresh snow. He whirled around, and with a slice from his greatsword he killed the animal. He picked up the ore, lopped a furry paw from the wolf then proceeded to nearly slice off three of his fingers as he tried to skin it.
“Oh, dis truly shameful,” he whispered. “Me being a mighty death knight and can’t even properly skin a mangy wolf.”
Just as he returned to try the skinning again a galloping horse bounded over a hill and skidded to a stop near him in a flurry of snow and ice. It was another deathcharger and Gibble watched with interest as a lady gnome hopped from the mount and pounced on a nearby plant. She stooped over and began to yank and huff and tug on the flowering growth.
“Out, out, weed!” the gnome commanded, and with a great heave she pulled it up by the roots and shoved it in a satchel.
The death knight, wearing her hair a long ponytail and now smiling, was about to mount and ride away when she noticed Gibble rummaging with his rocks. He tried to look impressive as he raised the wolf skin he had finally managed to retrieve.
She blinked at him and he blinked at her. Both seemed somewhat embarrassed to be seen in the lands of the young ones. They might have gawked at each other for a long while if she had not spoken first.
“A fine pelt ya have there,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said. “I am thinking it will make a fine lining for me boots.”
“Truly,” she replied.
He watched as she brushed the dirt from her tiny fingers and when she looked back at him he blinked again.
“I ams called Gibble,” he somehow managed to say.
“And I am Selki,” she replied.