In a dark basement somewhere.
Several figures sat together, discussing something.
"Cough—" A tall figure kept coughing. After taking a sip of water, he coughed even harder. If Deren had been here, he would have said his lungs had been injured.
The thin, small figure sitting across from him was restless.
A shrill voice cried, "Time is money! What did you call us here to discuss? Hurry up.
"I didn't come here to listen to an Orc cough."
"Calm down!" another short figure soothed. "Things have reached this point, and you still haven't realized that Goblin power has reached its most dangerous moment?"
"Danger? What danger? Why don't I see it?" the other party retorted unhappily.
"Venture Company is truly foolish. Can't you see Theramore's threat?" his fellow Goblin sneered.
"That's Rustwater's problem. Theramore is right next to you. Hahaha—"
"Cough—" After a bout of coughing, the tall figure finally recovered. He said in a deep voice, "Stop arguing over such trivial matters. The alliance between Theramore and Gadgetzan has long threatened Kalimdor's balance. It's time to take action.
"Are you really unmoved by Theramore's wealth?"
"Hiss—" The cigar clenched between Venture Company's representative's teeth fell and burned his leg. Before he could cry out in pain, though, the proposal seized all his attention. "Divide up Theramore? We're very interested in that proposal."
"Great Chieftain, you called us here to discuss something this unrealistic? I, Gazlowe, will not consider it. Theramore itself possesses formidable military strength. It has dragons, and Kul Tiras's fleet. Rustwater doesn't want to be destroyed the moment war begins."
"D-dragons?" Venture Company's representative's voice began to tremble. He had thought they were dividing up Theramore's cake. Who would have thought the other side had dragons? Forget getting a slice of the cake—they might end up hunted