Editing Fine Lines

==The Slow Blade==

Krelle slowly paced the packed earth floor of the Tong's Orgrimmar headquarters as she thought out loud. "...but Cel hasn't been in touch. She claimed the Syndicate wouldn't ever run the show at the thieves' den, but I wonder just how close she is to Dal. Killing Roshka might have been more of a provocation than we intended..."

"It wasn't exactly planned that way," Nerrok grunted. "Sit down, Squirt, you're making me dizzy."

Krelle sighed and sat on the ground, leaning back against a sawed off log by the firepit. She looked around herself at the smokey tent. The Slow Blade was a weapons shop that the Tong had bought years ago and it was about as safe a place as the two masters could find these days. Not that they were hiding out - there was business to be done in Orgrimmar - but it was comforting to relax a bit, at least. The huge tent was guarded, trapped - fel, it was even enchanted, and that had cost a fair bit of coin. They also had an "understanding" with the Burning Hand crew across the Cleft. Still. She'd once claimed that no place was truly safe from the Tong. She wouldn't underestimate her enemies.

"We're going to have to convince them that it'd be in their best interests to get a ceasefire going," Krelle continued grimly. Nerrok just chewed on a plug of tobacco. "This turf war is killing the profit we're making from the shop up there. If they keep at us it won't be profitable to operate out of Silvermoon much longer."

The old orc hunter looked at her, an eyebrow up. "What're you thinking?"

Krelle shook her head. "Not sure yet. We've been lucky so far not to have anyone bite it - you remember the close call with Ariyana. Almost botched the job and nearly lost an agent... Not to mention Roshka blowing you off the ramp with a shotgun."

Nerrok grunted noncommittally. There were fresh pockmarks on his shoulders and arms where the buckshot had lodged into his flesh. He'd been wearing his flak vest for that job, though. "We can handle them."

"I know, Ner, but we shouldn't have to! It's eating up manpower and money, and wearing people out. It must be costing them even more, but they don't seem to care." Krelle frowned, her fingers beating a rapid staccato on the log as she thought. "We either have to convince them that we're there to stay in Silvermoon and that they'd better get used to it, or else we ought to pull out of there."

Nerrok nodded. The Syndicate had been behind some trumped-up charges against the orc, trying to get him arrested for murder and conspiracy against the crown up in Silvermoon. The city's most expensive lawyer had earned himself a fat paycheck for having the charges thrown out - but it had been too random a charge, too easily overcome. "The Silvermoon shuffle," he said quietly.

"Eh?"

"They're trying to keep us busy with these half-assed attacks," he continued, frowning at Krelle. "They're up to something."

Krelle "hmed" her agreement. She'd been thinking the same thing. The Syndicate's random, scattershot attacks had been too stereotypical. They were faking dumb, she was sure. "Maybe it's about time we get up to something, then," she decided.

Nerrok grinned evilly. "Not pulling out?"

"Nether take ''that'' idea," Krelle said. "Too much money in that city to let them have it all. Not to mention how deep in the hole we'd be to Mr. Big if we bailed on the shop now. We're just gonna have to convince 'em to back off." Her gaze wandered over to the worktable she'd set up in the corner, piled with new engineering materials from Gadgetzan. The table was as far back from the fire as it could get, and covered with explosive and potentially explosive materials.

Nerrok eyed the table. He was no slouch at engineering either. "Could get messy," he suggested. "Who's the target? Dal?"

Krelle shook her head slowly, thinking. "No... he and Cel ran Silvermoon's underground for ages. Neither of them are truly in the Syndicate, just working with them. And as pissed as he might be that you offed his little package-running girlfriend, he's a practical man. He's not the one behind this crap. Someone else is running things for the Syndicate in Silvermoon - I'm guessing someone with a personal grudge against the Tong. What we oughtta do is find them and take'em out." ''Before they take us out,'' she mentally added.

Nerrok nodded in approval. The Tong had been operating defensively in Silvermoon, countering the Syndicate's moves as the larger organization had come into their territory. But wars weren't won from defensive positions. "Think the elf can handle Vardus?"

"No clue. Either way though - we're both marked until they give up."

Nerrok growled protectively. "All the more reason to get busy."

Krelle grinned at her adoptive father. "Well then. Why don't we do that?"

[[Category:Nerrok]]

[[Category:Jarvik]]