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Interviewing at Karazhan
“Welcome to Medivh’s Tower,” says the doorman. “I am Henry. I trust you are answering the ad we placed in the Coppersaver?”

“I sure am! Pleased to meet you, Henry,” I say.

We shake hands.

“Very good sir. In that case I will be escorting you up for your interview.”

“Sounds good.”

“This way, sir.”

The night is cool and clear, and I hear the muffled sounds of a party echoing down the long stairways of Karazhan. I try to take in my surroundings as we walk. We pass a tall, musty room, and I poke my head in out of curiosity.

“That’s our stable, sir. Nothing of interest that way.”

“Sorry, I was just... good Lord, what’s wrong with that pony!”



“I’m quite sure there is nothing wrong with him sir.”

“Most ponies don't have horns! Is he... sick? "

“Not at all sir. Quite healthy.”

“You should maybe try giving him a different brand of hay, or something.”

“The Master’s ponies only take Fel Carrots, sir. They adore them.”



“I see”

“Please come this way, sir.”

I relent and follow the doorman up the stair. We pass under a stunning series of flying arches - blue marble trimmed with gold – each is probably worth five times my annual take.

“Medivh must farm all day long to afford this place, huh?”

“I’m not at all sure what you mean, sir. The Master is far too busy with his studies to be bothered with any sort of 'farming.'”

Must be one of those high and mighty “real life” types, I think. Probably buys gold, even! Maybe I’ll report him if I don’t get this job, just for the hell of it. A few GMs showing up and impounding his devilponies might take him down a few pegs.

We pass through a vast ball room where upwards of forty people are lazily shuffling in and out, in and out, in some silent and miserable dance. Quite a party. We cut left, into a bustling dining room.

“I apologize for the stop, sir, but I must have a word with the steward before we ascend.”

“Oh, sure, I’ll just grab a glass of... look out! Skelertons!”

An animate skeleton, his exposed bones as white as boney bone, weaves out from between a long table carrying some sort of platter.

“There is nothing to fear, sir. It is only Waitor Wilson. Or is that Pilbery? Pardon my impertinence, sir, but they do all rather look the same.”

“Ugh! Is it even sanitary to have a skeleton serving food?”

“Well I suppose so. We do have them wash their hands every morning. And he has many features. Look, sir, he pours wine from his mouth!”

“He, uh, he is vomiting wine into a glass... people drink this?”

“It’s an excellent vintage, sir.”

“I’m going to pass.”

“As you wish, sir. Stay here, I will return shortly.”

I stand and watch the waiters lurch stiffly from person to person, nodding as they get their order and then hobbling off into a shadowy kitchen on the far side of the room. My guide is talking to an excessively gaunt, wildly unhealthy looking man and a cluster of richly dressed in-crowders up at a private table. The sickly man, the Steward, I guess, looks over at me with a smile that quite literally splits to his ears.

My guide hurries back over to me.

“I’m afraid the good steward is in a bit of a frolicsome mood today. We had best hurry along.”

“Frolicsome? How so?”

I look back just in time to see the steward vanish in a brief poof of smoke. His four companions chuckle and whisper to each other, then look at me with anticipation.

“Come. Now,” Says the doorman, hurrying back toward the ballroom.

“Ok!”

Back in the ballroom I almost ask to be lead out. This isn’t what I had imagined. But those dancers are all so damn quiet I can’t work up the nerve to speak up. I’d be orating to the whole crowd. My guide is weaving through swaying circles of people and it’s all I can do to keep up. Pretty soon we’re up another flight of stairs, deeper still into the tower, and just as I finally feel comfortable to talk again...

“Ooooh Henry. Have you brought us a new plaything?”

A stunning, dark-haired woman in a nightgown – the intimate kind of nightgown – appears in a doorway to our right. I’m over-whelmed by a shock of perfume, almost too sweet and too heavy, as if it has something to cover. Another two women appear behind the first.

The first winks slyly at me. “You don’t look like you could afford me, stranger. But don’t worry; the Master’s paying. Won’t you partake of his – our – hospitality?”

The girls are all giggles.

“Have you ever spent a night with three professional women and a felboar?” Asks another.

“I... haven’t,” I admit.

She licks her lips. “Would you like too?”

“I honestly don’t know.”



“HARLOTS!”

I reel backwards. A giant woman wearing some sort of toga has seemingly crawled down the passage way. She sweeps the girls away with one tremendous hand. I can hear them hissing and cursing away down the hall.

“Your behavior will not be tolerated! Be on your way, filthmind.” She says to me.

“Geez, hey... oh wow, you look almost exactly like someone I used to know. Do you have a sister? Twenty feet tall, marble skin, gets herself sealed into rooms a lot?”

“Ironayaya! I have not seen her in years. I does not surprise me you are acquainted; she is a filthmind like yourself.”

“She suuuuure is. Wow. A few years ago we met up! It was Bad hands in the Bad lands let me tell...”

“Enough! Your impurity must be cleansed! HOLY FYAR!”

Just then Henry reappears and flicks a casual counterspell from his fingertips.

“I am sorry Maiden, but the good sir is under my care. Come along now.”

I wave goodbye. The giant grimaces and starts laboriously crawling back down her hall.

“What happened to you there Henry? I almost got seduced into a menage a’something with three hot succubi and a demon pig. My mind’s still reeling with the possibilities.”

“The Maiden is very sensitive about her sister. It would be wise to avoid this part of the tower for the next... lifetime, sir.”

“Aww. I guess. Oh wow, are we seeing a play?”

“An opera, sir, not a play. And yes, we will have to wait for this one to end before we can ascend to the Master’s chamber.”

“You have to walk across the stage to go upstairs? That’s some good interior planning.”

“Look, it’s started.”

“Oh hey, I know this! It’s Romeo and Jul... err, why are there people killing Juliet?”

“Julianne, sir.”

“Oh God! That guy totally stabbed her. That looked way real. What the heck is... oh here comes Romeo. Is this part of the play?”

“Please keep your voice down, sir.”

“She, uh, came back to life? Romeo’s a druid maybe? And is that Frost Bolt she’s casting? What’s happening?”

“Oh dear, it looks like they both died, sir.”

“It does. I guess it still ends the same.”

“The Master likes to add flare to his opera. He once had Illidan himself come to play King Leer. He was just awful, if you don’t mind me saying, sir.”

“Looks like Tybalt is getting some epics now. Isn’t he already supposed to be dead?”

“No sir, he’s not in this play.”

“Next time Romeo should summon scorpions.”

“I’ll tell them that, sir.”

With the opera concluded we pass across the stage and weave our way up through the many balconies. Soon we’re ascending an incredibly dilapidate maze of wooden stairways jutting out from the side of the tower. If I were afraid of heights, I would probably run screaming back to the warm, soft arms of the lingerie maidens and... I... I wish I were afraid of heights.

“So I guess all the money went into the lower half of the place?”

“It’s the part the public sees, sir.”

“Look, that rat over there just fell through a board. You have rats collapsing parts of your tower.”

“It’s a work in progress, sir. I’m afraid I have some quick business to attend at the moment, please continue along and I will catch up with you shortly.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Quite safe sir.”

“Ok...”

My guide vanishes. I must say I’m not quite sold on my security alone up here. But what else is there to do? I move on, past an odd statue and into a hall lined with towering statues.



“THE MENAGERIE IS FOR GUESTS ONLY!”

“Whoa! Hi there, big guy. This is a menagerie? Isn't it supposed to have anima... **ZZZZAAAPPP***

“DO NOT TOUCH THE DISPLAYS!”

“Owwwwch! Damn! Sorry! I don’t even see any 'displays,' just these big owl statu.... ***ZZZAAAPP!***

“THIS CURATOR IS EQUIPPED FOR GALLERY PROTECTION!”

“I noticed, I noticed! Help! HeezzzzZAAAAAPPP**”

*thud*

“YOU ARE NOT A GUEST!”

...

...

Apply for a job at Karazhan with Watchers every Wednesday at 6:45. Whatever you do, don't touch the displays.
22 May 2007 by carwin
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