Rating: K+

"Hey, dwarf!"

The shout came from behind her and Mylra turned to witness Journeyman Goldmine stalking towards her.

"Yeah, lad?" she answered, somewhat rudely as she had a name and the goblin refused to use it.

He reached her, somewhat out of breath and dropped the armful of scrolls he'd been carrying at her feet.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, gesturing to the scrolls.

The dwarf shaman narrowed her eyes, thinking it was some sort of trick question, or that Goldmine had electrocuted himself one time too many. She refrained from answering, and instead chose the more mature option and stared politely at him until he clarified his question.

She was proud of herself for that.

"As you know, I'm in charge of buying the upgrades for the order hall. It's a very important job, if not the most important. Anyhow, I was checking in with my associates, when the mail came and they dropped off all of this!" He gestured at the scrolls again.

It was a risky decision, she knew, making a goblin head of order hall upgrades. She had no doubt that Goldmine's so called associates were nothing but a bunch of smugglers. Still, he had the connections and things got done. In a world where everything was going hell, no one really cared about anything other than results.

She didn't reply and looked at him apprehensively. She hadn't blinked in minutes and the effect was hopefully getting a bit creepy.

"Do you know what these are?!"

Mylra shook her head.

"They´re bills!" the goblin exclaimed. "Scrolls and scrolls of demands of gold!"

"Really?" Now she was curious. "Does it say what fer?"

Apparently, it was the question Goldmine had been waiting for her to ask. His face lit up in a manic grin, and she was annoyed to see that her creepy staring was nothing compared to that expression.

"It does, actually!" He picked up a scroll and read out loud, the sarcasm evident in every word. "This one's from Breanni in Dalaran. Food, lodging and medical supplies for a dozen hippogryphs. Why should we pay for that?"

"Yeh know the flightmaster's whistle? The Farseer got one so he could whistle for a ride instead a' walkin' everywhere. Turns out he's been overusin' it a little and the mounts got a bit banged up." Mylra replied.

Goldmine snorted. "Fine, fine. I'll pay it, but you have to talk to the troll about his flying habits."

Mylra shrugged. "Sure."

She wouldn't.

"Okay next one." The goblin picked up another scroll. "From the labor union of shamans – that´s a thing? Geez. – who are demanding hourly wages plus supplementary pay for working difficult hours." He shook his head. "What gives? I thought we were all saving the world and making profit. Not handing out wages!"

"We had to employ several shamans to stand by the edge, makin' sure everyone who fell down came back up again," the dwarf answered calmly.

"Yeah, I know. It's incredible how many people kill gods and dragons for a living but can't tell the difference from solid ground and air. Still, we had wind spirits for that, yeah? They don't need pay."

"The wind spirits were difficult. They didn't much care where people ended up as long as it weren't in the Maelstrom. On top a' weapons, food, other people… It wasn't safe."

"Or we could just put up a fence," the goblin muttered under his breath. He scribbled something on the scroll before rolling it up again. "Fine, but I doubt you'll have an explanation for the last one."

He cleared his throat. "Finally, a demand for a payment of seven hundred thousand gold to pay for the destruction and defacing of property – namely the Heart of Azeroth itself."

The dwarf fidgeted with her weapon and looked down at her feet.

"Well…" she began.

"Yes?" he prompted, making a beckoning motion with his left hand.

"Morgl the Oracle asked to borrow the Farseer's weapon. And he… well, he swung it 'round, causin' quite a bit a' damage to his surroundings," she mumbled. "But he swears it was an accident! At least that's what I think he said…"

It became quiet after that and Mylra chanced to look up. Goldmine was looking at her in astonishment, his round eyes even larger than normal.

"You mean to tell me that the troll loaned out the Doomhammer – one of Azeroth's most powerful weapons – to a murloc?!"

"Well, yes."

Goldmine blinked several times. In fact, he stood completely still and his eyelids were the only thing that moved and Mylra became concerned she'd actually broken him somehow. Then he dropped the scroll on the ground and started stalking off towards the portal.

"Hey, wait! Where yeh goin' lad?"

"I quit!"

"Yeh can't quit!"

"Sure I can! This world is doomed anyway and I want to spend my last days lying on a demon-free beach counting my money." And with that he disappeared through the portal back to Dalaran.

The dwarf shrugged and continued on with her patrol, expertly dodging the flaming items that were circling around (a common occurrence here). Goblins were so overdramatic sometimes.

A/N: I discovered that I can't do dwarf accents. You'll just have to imagine it.