Choose Your Own Adventure: The Dalaran Corpse, Page 14
Continued from Page 13
Miranda the not-so-well-disguised blue dragon stares at you when you ask if she could possibly explain the whole situation. Then she slowly, gradually smiles, showing her sharp canines again, as her long fingers pluck a fruit-laden toothpick out of her cocktail.
“How adorable you mortals are, always asking for explanations. Always asking us to reveal our plans. This is where I’m supposed to speak in a clever parable, aren’t I? Where I will somehow draw parallels between some fictional events and what is happening as we speak without ever spelling it out? I could do that, you know.”
She tugs a piece of pineapple off the end of the toothpick, chewing it thoughtfully. “Well. Imagine, for a moment, that you’re a veteran engineer. Imagine that you have been put in charge of, say, a Gnomish locomotive, the machinery of which is like putty in your hands. One day, a terrible accident puts the locomotive off the tracks, ruins the train, everything is in shambles. Just as you begin to put together all of the pieces, your passengers not only begin clamoring for service between Ironforge and Stormwind, but also begin offering to help. Your passengers begin offering to help. It would be utterly charming if it weren’t so annoying.”
Dipping the remaining cherry on the toothpick into the pool of liquor at the bottom of her glass, the woman narrows her eyes. “Do you really think,” she asks, “that the Blue Flight does not know how to fix the ley lines? Do you really think there is anything, anything at all, that would keep us from doing so if we wanted to?”
For a moment you are taken aback by her implications. The best you can stammer out is some form of, “But what about the cult in the sewers? What about the world falling apart and the Threads of Fate?”
She smiles again, but there’s little warmth to it. “They’re pitiable, aren’t they? They mean so well. We try to keep them updated on events.” She pats the little note tucked into her cleavage, then pops the cherry into her mouth, flipping the toothpick into her glass. “But they’re merely players, darling. Just as you are. Just as Kenseth was. Just as his murderer was, as well. Have patience, though,” she says as she stands, laying a warm hand on your shoulder. “Service will be resumed... momentarily.”
With a throaty chuckle she begins walking away.
A.) Follow her, demanding she tell you what she knows about Kenseth’s killer.
B.) Leave immediately to contact Investigator Perrinale about her.
C.) Go tell the dwarf woman who was sent to follow you that her cult is being duped.