I really ought to have written this up earlier – things have been busy lately what with attacking castles in the swamp and nearly being eater by trolls and gorillas and MOSQUITOS in the jungle and all manner of other diversions. So before it slides out of my head entirely, here’s what happened with Kaste’s fingers.
We traveled to Dun Morogh… exhausting journey… and managed to find a donor. We tried to negotiate for his fingers, but he just up and attacked us! Well, one thing led to another and he ended up buying the snow farm, and, well, there was no sense in looking a gift hand in the mouth. So I popped the fingers off of Mr. Antagonistic and onto Kaste and presto! Five fingered hands! They looked a little funny but they worked fine! Now that I’ve mastered the art of doing this operation on trolls, I’ll have to try it on a less naturally regenerative race. Gnomes are inquisitive, aren’t they? I’m sure I could find a volunteer in the gnome ruins where I got this lovely hat… but the hat is a story for another time. Right now I’m talking about fingers. Where was I? Oh yes, they worked perfectly! Eventually some of them went numb and fell off, but other than that, a total success!
Archive for Kaste
The Finger Experiment – Final Results!
The Finger Experiment II
It took a great deal of effort and many wrong turns, and by the end of the week I was very glad that I learned how to grab escaping ghosts and shove them back into their bodies, but I was successful! I was able transplant my subjects’ fingers onto the opposite hands, onto his feet, into his ears … anywhere, all over his body! Also, I put a row of fangs down his back, as a bonus. Subject looks impressively fearsome and will probably become the champion of his tribe as soon as his sanity returns!
Now that I know I can do this, it’s time to get Kaste his extra fingers! The sole problem is that while forest trolls are absolutely growing on trees around here, the only ice trolls I can track down are a few settlements living in Dun Morogh, deep in the dark, cirrhosis-ridden liver of the dwarven kingdom. I only hope that we can convince the guards at the mountain pass that our mission is worthy – but I suspect we may be getting hammered for science.
The Finger Experiment I
Kaste approached me recently with an unusual request – could I add two more digits to each of his hands? I’m not sure why he wants them, but far be it from me to look a gift experimental surgical procedure in the mouth! If I can manage to mult-dactyl him up to a full fistful of fingers, who’s to say I couldn’t graduate to whopping a few extra arms on here and there? That’s what I love about being on my own, whenever I wanted to delve into anything fun, Mother would always complain about “madness” this and “creating abominations in the eyes of all that is decent” that and so on. If somebody hadn’t dared to create, the world never would have known marvels like the shrink ray and the two-headed ogre!
I bribed one of the local Amani trolls with giant growth potions to agree to be my test subject. I think I’ve finally got that one almost down – the last batch I made just turned my left thumb really big for an hour but now I’m sure I have it right. Anyway, his name is Zeg, but for convenience’ sake I’ll simply refer to him as Digital Transplant Subject A. I don’t really know how I’m going to move his fingers around, but I guess experimental surgery is a little like dancing – you’ve just gotta get over your self-consciousness, jump out on that dance floor and figure it out as you go!
What you get out of it depends on what you put into it!
I ought to go into more detail about the my first trip to Orgrimmar. It’s a harsh place, all red rocks and dust and houses built into canyon walls – beautiful, but wild and inhospitable, practically daring you to attempt survival. It could’ve gotten quite uncomfortable, but fortunately I spent most of my time in the city sewer.
The others (I was with Kaste, and Ysabelle, and Zaliron, and … oh dear, I forgot her name) didn’t seem to think my assessment of the cavern was accurate. Well, certainly I’ve never seen a sewer that was quite so on fire before, and it may have had a fancy name like Ragefire Chasm, but let’s be realistic. Orgrimmar is built in a canyon, a canyon with no real drainage system leading outside. So there’s only one way to describe the lowest point in the city, and that’s SEWER. Actually, the magma was probably a good thing, as it provided a quick and merciful death for any poor creature still lingering on after a trip through the orcish digestive system.
The place was full of demon wranglers. I do rather wish that my first real opportunity to socialize with the orcs hadn’t been so attacking-me oriented, but apparently they had some kind of hideout down there, closed to the public, and that whole rigmarole.
At least the flames seem to have helped cool Zaliron’s hopeless ardor for me … even though they’re flames. I do hope he gets the message that he’s not going to be getting into my pants. I have enough problems getting into them myself.
Sadly my hearthstone malfunctioned and I found myself back in Silvermoon before we had fully explored the place or identified the strange orb we found deep within. I’ll make a return trip someday… and next time, I’ll bring waders.
My Life’s Work Commences At Last!
Finally, after some years of wheedling and prodding, I’ve been able to convince Mother that I am mature enough to leave home and begin my great project. Well, perhaps “convince” is too strong a word. Frankly I wonder if she didn’t just get to the point where she’d rather risk me being eaten by ogres than have to listen to me anymore. “Fandaleen,” she would say, “if I have to listen one more word of those meandering crackpot theories I swear I’ll throw myself from the top of the Sunspire!” Then she would tear big chunks of her hair out. Sometimes I think the only ones who appreciate my theories are the town wigmakers, who always send me a lovely card on Winter’s Veil.
Anyway, poor Mother won’t have to be driven to the brink of frothing wild-eyed insanity any longer, because now I have this journal to talk to, and a book can’t go mad. As far as I know. Oh, and I can also speak to the members of the Silverguard, the organization I joined. Mother absolutely insisted I join something so that I didn’t end up living in a crate and eating poisonous weeds to survive. Those are her words, not mine, I know how to tell which weeds are poisonous, and I wouldn’t eat them. Especially not since I’m still working through the fruit basket and all the chocolates from Mother’s therapist and masseuse.
What’s that you say, journal? It’s ambitious of me to plan a vast enclyclopedia cataloguing all the information in the universe, garnished with explanatory essays, moral lessons, cross-references and little cartoons to illustrate the finer points? Why, yes, I am aiming high, but I have experienced so many amazing things in the past week, I’m sure it won’t take all that long! I met Ysabelle, the woman whose room is next to mine, and Kaste, her troll servant, as well as a nice-seeming young man named Achates and another boy named Zaliron who appears to be in estrus all the time. I’ve seen the eastern Amani camps, the eldritch groves of the Ghostlands, and the burning tunnels of Orgrimmar’s sewage system.
About the only downside to all this adventure is that transportation has been sorely lacking. I’ve explained to the hawkstrider salesman that I’m not built for running everywhere, but apparently it’s a lot of “too inexperienced” this and “aren’t you the one that crashed that cart into the crystal vase store last year” that. At least when I get to the R’s I’ll have lots to say about red tape. Until then it looks like I’m stuck on foot. Oh well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to burn off some of the calories from the complimentary ham I received from the lady who sells Mother those little pink tranquilizer pills.
