The Great Anchor Weed Heist

Shadowsithe Ghoststrike, the Ghastly Bulk Merchant, looks over her bags in confusion. Hadn't she just had another stack of Anchor Weed? Where had the bundle of bright red herb gone?

The commander glances over the occupants of her bustling Garrison, nestled in a snowy nook of Frostfire Ridge, worried there could be a thief among them. The irony that she, herself, is a Rogue doesn't pass her by, but who could be so devious as to steal the expensive herb from her? Didn't she provide for all?

The thought of betrayal by any of her cohorts stings deeply.

Suddenly, the giant head of Atlas - her Mighty Caravan Brutosaur - appears beside her own, and she throws the arm closest over the back of his head in a reverse hug. The giant creature lows in approval, nuzzling his keeper.

"I dunno who would have taken our Anchor Weed, Atlas. It's gonna set us back at least 20,000 gold..."

Ghoststrike becomes aware that Atlas has his head buried in her bag and is rummaging through it.

"Hey!" she exclaims, and her startled mount pulls back. In his mouth he chews the remainder of her Anchor Weed. "I didn't teach you pick-pocketing!"