Time

[Bamm]

Time

Arkail rubbed his face in despair and sat up, screams deep within the Undercity caused him to wake. He groaned and checked his pocket watch sitting on a rotten side table beside his bed. 4 am... The joys of living in the eternal undying undercity. The city that never sleeps... literally. 
Arkail thought to himself. To a race that doesnt sleep, time is an odd concept. He had been losing track of it himself, how long had he been here. two months? three?. Before he left to find the blades he had seen a decade pass and he had barely looked up from his desk. Time was indeed odd.

Another scream echoed down the hall and Arkail groaned again. The royal apothecary society had been testing on a small band of poor fools for the last week. Judging by the screams he could only guess they where Dwarves, Wildhammer if the accent was anything to go by. He did wish they'd hurry up and finish with them. With a hacking chesty cough Arkail got out of bed and tried to stretch. The air here was putrid and Arkail was beginning to show that his body had been struggling to re-adapt to the living here.  He looked in a small hand mirror  a small medley of spots and pustules had gathered on his neck. He inspected them, then applied a thick waxy balm and sighed. I best get back to work. With a click of his fingers the candle at his desk came to life with a small, but bright purple blue flame illuminating his small quarters. Arkail sat down, polished his monocle and began to write. Transcribing his findings from Draenor cataloging all the flora, wildlife and fauna. He looked at the page his eyes running to his last line.

The complexity of Hydra venom: A study for its future applications...

He went to notes he had taken after he had hunted a hydra. Rough sketches notes in one of his own ciphers.  He began to write.

Boom!

Arkail's door crashed to the floor with a deafening crack, it caused the dust and dirt to fly into the air. Insects and spiders and all the decrepit life scurried and scattered. A single figure stood in the doorway silhouetted in the dust. The dust slowly settled. Arkail coughing and waving his hand, Squinting to see who was there.
It was Hargreaves. A lowly library researcher. He stared blankly ahead. His jaw locked at a sickening right angle and said.
"Scrollllsss yoooou wantedddd"
He dropped the scrolls at his feet in the doorway spun on his bony heel and left. Arkail rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers and cursed in a odd language before eventually returning back into Orcish
" That fel blasted heathenish bone headed mindless  slack jawed..." 
Arkail sighed.
"If i have told him once i have told him a thousand times don't drop the scrolls"
Arkail got up and picked them up skimming though them, picking up the door with his free hand and slamming it back into place..
"The wrong scrolls of course. If i was a paranoid type i'd think they were doing this on purpose he snorted" he returned to his desk and began to write.
Another pained scream echoed followed by what only could be described as an wet meaty implosion. The thought that the sound didnt sound like a legal avenue of research passed Arkail's mind, then for some reason to the tribe, The red blades. He wondered how they where fairing in Tanaan.  He hadn't planned on staying in Undercity this long a week or two at most. He doubt he'd be missed that much. The Gul'thauks had grown immeasurably since he became one of them and he knew he'd be contacted if his skill set was needed. Had he really been here three months?
Several hours later or what he thought of as several hours and he finished his cataloging and theories on Hydra venom, He glanced over the rough copy, casually flicking a small spider off the page as it crawled across it.
"Hmm that should give a good foundation to the Hydra chapter"
His bestiary was coming along nicely, he smiled to himself.
"I really shouldn't have indulged myself with this. I should return to the blades. Duty and blood and whatnot.  Hmm indeed"
He said answering himself. He blinked, noticed that he was talking to himself.
"I do miss a good conversation. Well i am never without intelligent conversation, so long as i have myself i guess" He chuckled. But he realized in this moment he did miss the tribes humdrum conversations Who was flirting with who, who had annoyed who. Conversations about the latest hunt and who had embarrassed himself in the process. Of course when he was with the tribe all this was written down out fo duty, but he had grown found of watching their lives from the sidelines. He missed the campfires, the daily near death experiences. The danger of the Undercity wasn't enough for him anymore he barely registered it. It was time for him to return, back to the tribe, He gathered his things and once set out to find the Red Blades. He glanced around his quarters, a click of his fingers and the candle went out. He grasped the handle to his door and it came away in his hand. He groaned, rolled his eyes and pushed the door, with a gentle nudge. It fell and crashed to the floor, dust flooded and enveloped him. Arkail trampled the door under foot and began his journey to Tanaan.

[Okiba]

Yay! Story!

Nice to see something from the point of view of -THE- scribe! Enjoyed it