Hardly a day goes by without yet another magical incident. Our contacts within the constabulary confirm this spike in thaumaturgic mayhem is connected to a secretive organization known as the Kabal. The Kabal have secured a slice of Gadgetzan’s underworld through cunning, trickery, and arcane machinations that would make the boldest blastmage blush.
Under Kazakus’ tutelage we have learned to concoct all manner of potions. Under his guidance we are Gadgetzan’s master mixologists, brewing potions of power so POTENT they petrify our puny opponents. So overwhelming they overpower the opposition! So EXPLOSIVE they—what was I talking about? IT DOESN’T MATTER!
We of the Kabal embrace those unwelcome elsewhere. We are outcast Priests, Mages, and Warlocks whose methods are too EXTREME for our colleagues. All that hand-wringing over silly things like mutations, toxicity, and side effects. Those cowards lack vision! We are at our STRONGEST when our decks only have a SINGLE COPY of each card! We of the Kabal embrace power NO MATTER THE PRICE!
Alchemy is great fun, but it isn’t cheap, so we’ve entrenched ourselves in the docks, and we control the Gadgetzan Mega Market. It’s no secret volcano fortress, but it does make it easy for us to traffic in the ingredients we require for our more exotic brews, and for our couriers to distribute our wares to thirsty buyers throughout the city. Only the weaker brews of course. We save the best for ourselves.
Once you come to the inevitable conclusion that the only path toward true mastery lies with US 0 here, have some more ice-cold Kaza-kola - you’ll need to dress the part. I think red or purple robes can be quite fetching. Some of us pay a visit to Inkmaster Solia to receive one of her glorious glowing crimson tattoos. A tattoo from her not only marks your dedication to the Kabal, but can serve as a handy nightlight or massive reservoir of power in a pinch.
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