Caught

[Rukorah]

The streets of Orgrimmar had emptied in the passing weeks. Warriors, hunters, shaman… any and every capable orc, troll and tauren had been summoned. With the rise of Deathwing, the Cataclysm had begun.

For Rukorah, this was both a blessing and a curse. While there were fewer guards around to disrupt her “business” it also meant there were fewer pockets to pick. And fewer pockets to pick meant that Rukorah would go hungry. She had recently taken to skulking around the Cleft of Shadow. The dregs of Orgrimmar were not so eager to go to battle and the mages and warlocks were often in possession of small magical trinkets. They could potentially be highly valuable, depending on the enchantment; managing to acquire one would mean Rukorah could keep herself fed for weeks.

The more magically inclined denizens of Orgrimmar sold their wares in a ragged looking marketplace at the centre of the Cleft of Shadow. An assortment of weary and withered orcish wizards gathered around to buy and sell. The stalls were lined with a medley of magical goods; alchemical reagents, bottles of potions, dusty old tomes, wands and staves, stacks of parchment, glittering arcane dusts, faintly glowing shards and, more importantly, jewellery.

However, today, Rukorah was stalking different prey.

He was a troll. Tall and lithe with dusty brown hair tied in a top knot. He seemed well-dressed for someone wandering the cleft, with an expensive looking dagger sheathed at his side.

What a fool, Rukorah thought with a smirk, I’m surprised he hasn’t been robbed already.

Rukorah studied her quarry from one of the higher ledges within the cleft where she had a good view of almost the entire market. She considered her next move as she watched him browse the alchemical wares on display. He seemed particularly interested in the potions, picking up each vial in turn and scrutinizing it carefully. The alchemist, a wizened orc mage with a long grey beard and balding head, would chatter excitedly about the supposed properties of the potions.

Rukorah’s stomach growled indignantly, as though urging her to make a move soon. She hadn’t eaten in days. Swiftly and silently, she began to make her descent towards the market below. There were not many people in the cleft today. Most of the warlocks and mages were a reclusive sort and rarely ventured far except to sell their services and exchange knowledge. A few dishevelled looking robed orcs and trolls were milling around the stalls. Rukorah would have preferred a bit more cover, but this would have to do. None of them seemed to notice her anyway â€" and why should they? She was a skinny little thing dressed in tattered black rags. A runt of an orc. Not worth noticing.

As quiet as a shadow, Rukorah weaved her way through the rabble until she spotted the troll again. He was inspecting some odd necklace on a warlock’s stall which glowed ominously in the dim light of the cleft

“Ah yes,” the shopkeeper began eagerly as Rukorah darted towards a small alcove in the wall nearby and crouched down. “You have good taste, troll. The one who possesses this necklace should be able to bind most minor demons to their will. Though, I wouldn’t advise attempting to control anything more powerful… we wouldn’t want any horrible accidents, now, would we?” The troll raised an eyebrow and looked quizzically at the warlock. Rukorah held her breath and surveyed the rest of the market. If anyone had noticed her, they certainly weren’t showing any signs.

“I see,” replied the troll, who placed the sinister trinket back on the stall, frowning. He had his back to her and Rukorah had the advantage of the cover provided by the nook. She began to lean forward, her heart fluttering in her chest. The dagger was within her reach. That was when she also noticed the large pouch of gold hanging from his belt. Deciding that it would be far easier to steal the gold, Rukorah took out a small knife from her pocket. In one deft movement she cut the purse from his belt. She caught it expertly in the other hand, but just as she began to turn to make her escape the troll swung around and grasped her wrist, pinning her up against the wall easily with just a single hand. Rukorah’s knife fell to the ground clattering as she grunted in pain from the impact.

The troll took the pouch of gold from her other hand and moved in closer so that his tusks were merely inches away from her face. He grinned wickedly as her eyes widened with horror. She had never been caught before.

Until now.

“Looks like I finally caught you, little cat,” he said.

[Trakmar]

Nice story! An enjoyable read.