The Game of the Century, Bishop to e6
Baron Revilgaz awoke with a start, the mid morning sun shining through the recently opened window. Light breezes of sea air chased out the stale odors of an old Port, 99-year-old to be exact, and barbecued buzzard wings. Sitting up he stretched and yawned. Two gnomes darted in to immediately stuff fluffy silk covered cushions behind him. A young goblin, sporting multiple piercings in both ears and through her nose, all hung with small sparkling gems and tiny bells, supported a bed tray heaped with food-filled plates and overfilled mugs. He leaned back to watch her expertly settle the tray across his lap.
Narrowing his already slit-like eyes at her. "Has this all been tasted?"
She froze, her eyes suddenly wide with fright. "Oh, no Baron, sir" she stammered in a squeaky high-pitched voice. "My mistake! I will call the tasters, right away." With trembling hands she reached for the bell pull by his bedpost. "Do you want two or three tasters this morning?"
He grunted in satisfaction at her reaction. "Two for today's meals. I haven't seriously crossed anyone for days!" he added with a cracking laugh. Both gnomes and the girl gave out uncomfortable and forced laughs.
"Yes, two tasters, Baron. And thank you Baron, sir, thank you." She swept up the tray and stepped back to wait for the summoned tasters.
Leaning back he smirked. She was a pretty little goblin and usually very efficient, but one word from him and she would find herself swabbing the decks of a Blackwater raider's ship, niece or not!
A fat gnome and one skinny goblin with a pockmarked face and sporting almost as many piercings as the girl arrived breathlessly at the door. The gnome snapped to attention and viciously poked the goblin to attention. "Your Baron sir, we are ready to taste. Be there a poison or spell on your food or drink, we are ready to die to protect you!"
The Baron waved his hand over to the girl holding the tray, dismissing the two to their work. His eyes played over the skinny goblin, just as the youngster's hand was slapped away from the food and a small tasting fork shoved into his other hand by the portly gnome. Must be another of his relatives. He sighed. He was going to have to speak with his many siblings and cousins. He couldn't be giving jobs to all their kids! Did they think he was made of gold! He gave a short laugh at this thought, his eyes casting out the open window and alighting on his statue standing on Janeiro's Point glowing with the late morning sun, arms outspread to welcome all travelers and their riches. Gold indeed and he smiled at all the faces turned toward him, startled by his laugh.
The tray replaced across his lap, he motioned for the girl and the tasters to leave. As the portly gnome passed him, he was struck by a thought. "Gaston, come here" he commanded waving the portly gnome closer. The Baron leaned over slightly and whispered. "Keep the skinny one hungry. Any food or drink he gets, comes from my meals. Now go." Gaston nodded sagely and then followed the other two out. A hungry and thirsty taster would be less easily bribed to poison the meals he had to eat too, the Baron reasoned.
Baron Revilgaz dove into his breakfast, occasionally taking short breaks to sit back and take in a deep breath of the sea air. Gives a goblin an appetite! He sighed in pleasure.
The two gnomes still waiting quietly and discretely at his bedside whisked away the empty tray and then held up a gaudy bright orange and purple mageweave morning robe for the Baron. "Call the Fleet Master and have him meet me on my balcony" he commanded. The Baron stepped forward to the large ornate glass doors leading to his balcony and took the truesilver toothpick handed up to him by one of the gnomes.
He flung the doors open and stepped onto the balcony while working the toothpick between his sharp pointed teeth, chasing the remnants of breakfast. A banner was strung across the main deck of the town, Booty Bay. It whipped gaily in the morning breezes announcing the "Stranglethorn Fishing Extravaganza". Today was the weekly fishing tournament. Spearing a fragment of tangy clam meat trapped between his front teeth, he chortled to himself. Every week Booty Bay held the Fishing Extravaganza. It was immensely popular across Azeroth and immensely profitable.
He leaned over the rail to see Riggle Bassbait and his assistant Jang setting up the FishBot 5000. Jang turned and when she spotted the Baron, she gave him a cheery wave. He pulled his toothpick from his mouth, raised the hand, and gave her a discrete nod. Now she was a gorgeous little goblin if there ever was one. Not at all like his first wife, Pixel. Even her name caused him to pucker his lips in displeasure. No, Jang was young with perky ears, tiny pointed teeth, and shapely toes peeking provocatively from her sandals. She also had the persistent aroma of Tastyfish. He involuntarily smacked his lips. A grunt from behind him drew his attention away from the girl.
"Seahorn, my old friend Seahorn!" he called out as he turned to face the huge Tauren standing feet away on the balcony. The Tauren was massive, with thickly bunched muscles straining to be free from his well-tailored Blackwater uniform and highly polished hooves that had on more than one occasion left their mark on an unfortunate Bloodsail Buccaneer. His horns were straight and sharp enough to gore a thunder lizard.
The Baron laughed.
"Something funny down there Baron?" Seahorn rumbled in his deep basso profundo voice and tipped a horn toward the dock below.
"No, no, my old friend. I was just remembering the thunder lizard escapade."
The Fleet Master stared at the Baron for a few short seconds before bursting into a deep laugh himself. "Ah yes. What a caper. One change in fortune after another. It was a stroke of brilliance on your part to have me and my ship of ex-Blackwater Raiders waiting to 'relieve' Mogul Ryzor of his thunder lizard hides on the high seas back to Kezan." He paused looking slightly thoughtful and wrinkling the thick hide over his broad forehead. "Did Mogul Ryzor ever link his apprentice Bibb's betrayal back to you?"
The Baron laughed again and pulled up a well-cushioned chair to sit. "No. Nothing came back to me except the gold for those hides!" He nodded for Seahorn to pull up a larger chair, constructed of the thick limbs of Stranglethorn vines. "I do wonder how Mogul Ryzor suspected his apprentice would double cross him! He was a little too well prepared for that fight."
The Baron settled into his chair. "Well, we have bigger fish to fry!" He laughed uproariously at his own joke. "Get it! It's the Fishing Tournament today!" Tears began running down his sharp green cheeks as he hiccupped through more laughter.
"I get it." Seahorn grimaced. "Shall we go over the books for the week?"
The Baron wiped the tears from his face with the cuff of his robe. "Yes. Yes. Was it a profitable week? Any problems I need to refer to Landro Longshot's gaming rooms and his slavers?"
Seahorn removed a sheaf of papers from his tunic. Pulling a small table between the two chairs, he spread the papers open.
"This is from the vendors. We made 600 more gold than the week before; however, Hemet Nesingwary Jr. has complained the ammo vendor is not selling quality material."
The Baron nodded. "What does he want?"
"He wants ironbite shells and more of the Dwarven made firearms."
"What!?" The Baron exploded. "Goblin guns are not good enough for him, are they?!"
Seahorn laughed. "Baron, not even my men of the Blackwater Raiders will use goblin made weapons. The goblin products explode." Jabbing a thick hairy finger at the Baron, "Dwarven made keeps you safe!" he added.
The Baron grunted and flung up his hands in mock surrender. "OK, ok, you win. Let's see how we can get some Dwarven made firearms and ammo to our vendor."
They both sat back. "What about that rum runner out of Southshore?" The Baron asked, but Seahorn shook his head. "No. The dwarves are stockpiling various brews for the up-coming Brewfest. Rum isn't selling as well right now."
The silence between them stretched for several minutes as snatches of conversation from many races floated up from the crowd accumulating on the decks below.
"Ah, I got it!" The Baron snapped his fingers. "The humans! They drink rum. And the dwarves trade with them. I bet there are large shipments of guns going across to Theramore. There are plenty of malcontent humans in that settlement." Now he tapped his pointed chin with a long curved fingernail, glittering with tiny embedded gems that twinkled as they caught the noon sunlight. "We might have to slip a little extra to Overseer Gazlowe in Ratchet to let your fleet port there before parlaying with some of those malcontent Theramore guards. Did you send out that bottle of 99-year-old port to him last week? Mark him up to two bottles next time."
The Baron continued without even letting Seahorn answer. "Yes, yes. This will work! Contact that rum runner and let's get him locked in a price, now that rum isn't moving as well. We get some of your human Raiders to be all chummy with the discontented of Theramore, ply them with rum, and help a few shipments of Dwarven firearms and ammo vanish from the inventory lists."
He paused. "Go ahead and tell the vendor to get prepared. My cut will increase to 50%, to cover these extras expenses and risks."
"And," he added. "Tell Hemet, Jr. I expect a discount on the next delivery of raptor hides."
Seahorn raised his bushy eyebrows. "The bottle was sent and Hemet won't be pleased."
The Baron snorted. "Good! As far as Hemet, Jr. is concerned, better weapons means they can kill more and not lose as many of their big game hunters. I should receive compensation for the risk I take to bring him better weapons! I expect a discount or it will come out of your cut of the profits."
Seahorn pulled back his thick lips in a parody of a grin. The Tauren noses always flared open and flushed bright red when they tried to move their lips into smiles or grins. The Baron found it hard to see beyond the huge red nose looming in his face.
"When you explain it like that, I am sure he will be agreeable to the new terms."
"And speaking of Nesingwary, there was a troll delegation here last week to file a complaint about the game hunters poaching on their lands again."
The Baron grimaced. "You told them we would be glad to investigate this for a small fee, correct?"
Seahorn nodded. "Yes, they paid the fee, but it seemed to take all day for them to get to the point this time. All the head bobbing, rattle shaking, retelling of the individual grievances in that heavy accent of theirs gave me a headache. I wanted to order the cannons to be deployed and level their little kingdom."
The Baron nodded his head sympathetically. "I understand Seahorn. I wish we had the resources to remove the trolls from Stranglethorn Vale, as my people did on the Isle of Kezan. But where is the gold in that? They pay well for slaves and they are the worse gamblers in all of Azeroth! When their gold runs out, then my good friend, then we shall see."
The babble of voices from the decks below grew louder. Hawkers called out their wares in sing song rhymes.
"Make a wish, catch your fish, with magical spinners for winners"
"Need a pole, to reach that hole? It won't cost a soul, just cast me some gold!"
Parties were arguing about which coast to run in all languages, from the throat ripping grunts of the Orcs to the squeaks of the gnomes. And rising distinctive from the cacophony was the rarely heard clear musical language of the night elves.
Both Seahorn and the Baron looked at each other in surprise. "Kaldorei?" They both exclaimed. "At our fishing tournament?"
As one, they both rose to peer over the railing at the milling masses. The Kaldorei were easy to spot. Tall, slender, pale blue skinned people, with long pointed ears, and the noctilucent eyes that shown slightly even in the bright sun of mid-day.
The Baron noticed several trolls melted back towards the lower decks and most of the other races moved aside as the Night Elves walked towards Riggle Bassbait and Jang to hear the rules of the fishing tournament.
"Well I'll be the son of a Trade Prince." The Baron swore softly. "Kaldorei and one is even a female."
Seahorn flashed him another of his red nosed grins. "Baron, you are a genius. It has to be those flyers you have the dwarves in Ironforge handing out. How else would they even know about Booty Bay and the fishing tournament!"
The Baron nodded absently. "Could be. Might also be that tonight, the White Lady, or Mu'sha to your people," he tipped his head slightly towards Seahorn, "is in her fullness. And Janeiro's Point provides one of the most beautiful views of our lovely moon in the Eastern Kingdoms."
The Baron straightened and continued. "Seahorn, make sure we provide some transportation to the isle tonight; a silver out and two gold to return. If they kill Mok'rash that irritating sea giant, so much the better. You will need to see to this, I have my annual meeting with the moguls tonight." He swore again under his breath.
"I will need the other set of ledgers to show them. Lock away our real financial spread sheets, as usual." He waved back at the papers Seahorn had laid out on the table. "I think I shall get dressed now. It looks like the fishing tournament is about to start."
Seahorn backed to the table, rolled the papers, and placed them carefully in his tunic. "Of course Baron. Shall I join you at the start of the tournament?"
The Baron flashed his friend a big grin, showing all his pointy yellowing teeth. "Yes and bring another bottle of port."
Baron Revilgaz carefully chose his finest clothes. The trousers were fitted to show off his legs. For a goblin, he thought he had fine looking legs. Not too muscular and not too boney. The shirt and vest were also tailored to perfection. He pulled out the drawer with finger rings and ear cuffs and selected enough to cover all his fingers and several fine cuffs for his ears. Running a hand over his bald pate he grinned in the mirror at himself. Goblin women loved his bald head, he had been told this many times in the past. A push of a button and an ornate gold rod swung out from a hidden panel. Necklaces of every length, thickness, gem and metal swung gently before him. He lifted several long plain gold chains and a few dangling large medallions set with glimmering gems off the rod. Hanging these around his neck, he turned once again to the mirror. Perfection! He had someone special he wanted to impress. Finally a push of a button rolled out shelves and shelves of shoes and boots. He chose the boots made from the hide of the great white tiger to complete his ensemble.
As the Baron stepped out to stroll down to the deck just recently filled with fishing contestants, he saw at least two of the three of his personal bodyguards move into place. He wanted to appear casual and so, stopping to take several deep breaths, he stepped out on the deck. There she was, Jang. He noted with happy fortune that Riggle Bassbait was occupied with the mechanical Fishbot 5000. Jang was casually looking out over the bay, small breezes fluffing up her red hair tied back in a perky ponytail.
"How does the contest look today? Do you have a favorite?" The Baron hoped he sounded casual.
Jang startled when she heard him and turned smartly to face him. "Baron, Baron Revilgaz," she started to giggle. "I didn't expect you to come down." She shyly tipped her head back up to his balcony and giggled again.
The Baron could feel his heart race. Those giggles, the ponytail. He inhaled deeply and caught the scent of Tastyfish. She was so yummy.
He cast a cautious eye towards Riggle but the angler was still punching buttons and cursing at the Fishbot.
"I thought my orc champion looked good for another win this week. How about you?"
"Oh Baron." And she broke into a gale of giggles. "The orc is a fine choice. He has won the tournament three weeks in a row!" She batted her long lashes at him and giggled again. "But," she started and paused looking deep into his face suddenly. "Did you see the Kaldorei female?"
The Baron froze. Cautiously he replied. "Yes. A fine specimen of night elf. But can she fish?"
Jang giggled and whispered loudly to him, leaning forward just slightly. "I put a silver on her."
The Baron could hear Riggle behind him. "Curse you. Brownell's BLUE Striped Racer. BLUE!" He knew he needed to make his play and quickly. "Well, um, perhaps you would join me later tonight and we can compare notes on the fishing talents of the Orcs versus the night elves? Over Tastyfish. Prepared by Sprogger. You are free, aren't you?" He added nervously.
Jang smiled broadly at him and giggled. "Baron, I'm a free spirit, I would love to join you."
The Baron could feel his ears getting warm. "Wonderful. I was afraid you might be tied up with.." he shrugged towards Riggle. "Well, the angler Riggle."
"Baron" she cooed and giggled. "I don't like to be tied down. Oh, unless you mean that literally. I'm totally into that."
Revilgaz knew his face must have registered some surprise and he struggled to appear nonchalant. "Ah, good then. Say moonrise? My balcony?" She giggled a yes and batted her eyes.
The Baron turned to walk back to his rooms and found himself face to face with Riggle Bassbait. The angler was scowling at him before casting a quick glance towards Jang. "Afternoon, Baron. Can I help you with anything? Place a bet?"
The Baron smoothly smiled and replied. "Thank you Riggle. A silver on the Kaldorei, if you would." He glanced back to wink at Jang before striding past Riggle.
The balcony was almost crowded with Seahorn, the portly gnome, Gaston, Baron Revilgaz and one of his three bodyguards. As the Baron opened the bottle of port and poured a small thimble-full for the taster, the magically amplified voice of Riggle Bassbait announced the start of the fishing tournament. Tastyfish were seeded all along the Stranglethorn shores east and west of Booty Bay. The fish were excellent eating in any manner they were prepared and the Baron looked forward to a heaping plate of the fish prepared by Sprogger in the company of the enchanting Jang.
Sprogger. And he licked his thin red lips. That goblin knew how to cook! He made a mental note to see if he would be able to buy him away from Captain Hecklebury Smotts. Captain Smotts wasn't one of Seahorn's Blackwater raiders, but he was a reliable independent pirate who usually brought in good gold from plying his trade between Booty Bay and Tanaris. It was unfortunate about his run-in with the sea giants. He hoped that maybe the night elves might permanently remove a few of the sea giants and Mok'rash in particular, especially if they wished to view their moon, the White lady in peace. The mental image of night elves on Janeiro's Point, standing under HIS statue, worshipping their lunar goddess brought a big smile to his face. All for a small fee that would fill his pockets. The irony.
As he sipped his full glass of port, he fretted about the up-coming meeting with the moguls. One had to play these meetings just right. You couldn't show too much profit, or they would make the assumption you could pay the trade cartel a larger percentage. Too little and they would send their people from Kezan to investigate every copper taken in. The fishing tournament had been a boon for making gold. There was no way to hide its success. He also knew he would need to gloss over some recent unfortunate incidents.
The Baron was ambitious. He had his sights on becoming a Trade Price and making Booty Bay the headquarters for his operation. Slowly and cautiously he has been expanding his gold making opportunities into the areas of mining, deforestation, slave rings, fight arenas, and poaching, as well as his legitimate mercantile activities. He had to move carefully. One needed to support the right people and not get caught trying to remove those in one's way to the top.
He ticked off his operations mentally as he idly watched Jang and Riggle Bassbait.
He provided supplies and received goods from both Venture Company mining operations. The oil, from his own backyard he reminded himself, was critical to the construction of ships and war machines he would need for his own army. And those recently discovered strange blue crystals from one of the mines, well, he had his people working on discovering possible uses for them.
The slave trade was unfortunate. He knew many races found it unsavory, but what could he do? He was trying to carve out an empire right in the heart of several powerful troll tribes. They were hungry for slaves and he kept a stream of bodies heading to the troll slavers, of all factions. He secretly hoped the various troll tribes would turn on each other and take care of HIS troll problem. As it was, it was walking a tightrope to keep them from over-running the mining operations and Nesingwary's Expedition.
Hemet Nesingwary, Jr, of Nesingwary's Expedition was proving to be as ruthless a hunter as his father. Revilgaz was easily keeping the Stormwind and Ironforge wealthy clothed in exotic furs and their tables filled with poached, exotic meats.
Finally with Seahorn and his Blackwater Raiders commanding one of the finest fleets in Azeroth and the large guns of Booty Bay itself, he felt sure he could catapult to the position of a Trade Prince. First they needed to wipe out the Bloodsail Buccaneers under the xenophobe Duke Falrevere. He was sure he could recruit more adventurers willing to help him put down Falrevere and his bunch of vile thugs. He needed to freely run the seas on the ships of his Raiders to move all his goods.
Riggle Bassbait's magically amplified voice jolted the Baron's attention back to the tournament. "WE HAVE A WINNER. BELETA WINDSONG OF NIGHTHAVEN!"
The Baron and Seahorn stood to get a better look at the winner. Revilgaz groaned. It was the night elf, the female. With an orc champion, orc money would be spread around to all the vendors and other suppliers of more illicit activities. Of course they also kept the bruisers busy protecting the rest of the inhabitants of Booty Bay. The Kaldorei didn't drink or gamble and probably wouldn't even stay in the inn he fumed to himself.
Seahorn held out his hand to the Baron. "I believe you owe me five silvers. I knew if the little Kaldorei survived the ambushes, as a hunter she would easily catch enough Tastyfish."
As if to prove his point, the Kaldorei hunter tossed a Tastyfish to her bonded cat. She had caught more than needed to win the tournament and the large orc who had won previously saw her casually flip the extra fish to the saber. The orc's green face blackened with anger, but bruisers quickly appeared between the two.
"Arghhhh" cried the Baron as he pulled on his ears. "We are going to lose money on this one!"
The Fleet Master gently tapped the Baron on his shoulder. "Unlikely dear friend. She will assuredly buy the first round at the Salty Sailor Tavern, unlike your orc champion, and I expect she will stay the night."
The Fleet Master's deep laugh rolled around the balcony as Revilgaz handed him the five silvers. The Baron had also backed the orc who had won the last three tournaments with a significant bet. Perhaps with the odds against the Kaldorei he would still make a little gold.
The Baron pulled out his gold pocket watch and sighed. "You are in charge Seahorn, until I return. I must use The Dimensional Ripper to get to my meeting in Kezan."
The Fleet Master nodded solemnly and handed him the doctored financial sheets. "Stay safe my friend."
The Baron's three bodyguards stood waiting for him to finish making the adjustments on The Dimensional Ripper which was sitting in the middle of his great room. Finally standing he suddenly turned to them. "Wait here, I need to remove most of these rings and medallions." He raced into his private dressing room and quickly removed the jewelry. I need to look prosperous, not pompous, he thought to himself.
Returning to the great room, he pulled the lever to start the machine. Two bodyguards would go through first. He and the last one would wait one minute and if the other two didn't immediately return, they would also go through. The machine would transport them to just outside Undermine in Kezan. From there, they would walk to the meeting hall. There were always a few glitches with use of the transporter. Sometimes it transported you a few yards above the ground or your evil twin might replace you. He laughed at that. As if anyone would recognize the evil twin of a goblin!
This time he and the bodyguard were discombobulated and transmitted a few yards above the ground. Fortunately the previous bodyguards were still trying to gather themselves and the Baron landed on them. Standing up, he brushed off his trousers and vest. "Come, come. I can't afford to be late."
He raced down the pathway to a squat building without windows. The doors swung open for him and his bodyguards and then clanged shut with a resounding crash once they entered.
Their footsteps echoed as they approached the main meeting room. It was round, with doors opening into the room at irregular intervals. The center of the room held a large round table surrounded by an array of chairs. Some had thick cushions and others were straight hard, unadorned wood.
His heart skipped a beat; both Mogul Razdunk and Mogul Ryzor were seated at the table. The Baroness Llana sat between them, her long flowing purple skirts sweeping the floor but falling open to show off her shapely green feet clad in only the thinnest of straps. Revilgaz swallowed hard and pulled his eyes from her feet. There were a few others scampering into the room after he took his place at the table. He recognized a few more Slavers and the Overseer Gazlowe of Ratchet, nodding to them as he caught their eyes.
Mogul Razdunk stood on his seat and rapped the table with a gold hammer. "The Annual Financial Review of the Trade Coalition is called to Order," he announced. "Please hand your financial reports to Mogul Ryzor."
The Baron unfolded the roll of papers Seahorn had handed him. He took a quick look to reassure himself they had the totals he expected. The papers were in order.
In the silence as the papers made their way to Mogul Ryzor, one door squealed open. All the bodyguards, three to four per attendee, snapped to attention. A short female goblin entered. The Baron's eye popped open. "Pixel" he gasped and the name echoed around the room.
The short female clad in heavy leather and work boots walked over to Mogul Razdunk, stopped, looked at Revilgaz, grinned broadly, and licked the mogul's ear.
"Baron Revilgaz, I am so glad you remember me!" She purred.
The Baron popped up from his seat shouting and pointing at her. "She isn't allowed in here. She is a mere trader."
Mogul Razdunk patted Pixel on her arm and indicated she should take a seat near him, before looking at Revilgaz. "Take your seat Baron. Pixel is here at my request. We have some business to discuss, about you."
The Baron remained standing. "If you are getting information from her, you should know she would even sell her own children into slavery if it profited her!"
The room was dead silent for a heartbeat and then erupted in laughter. "Good one Baron" exclaimed Overseer Gazlowe.
"Please Baron, we should be civil here. We just need to review your recent actions and" he took a sheaf of papers from Pixel, "well, see which financial reports are your real finances!"
Pixel looked at the Baron. "If you had paid more attention to OUR children, you would have recognized the boy you hired as a taster was your son."
The Baron sank down into his seat with a long exhale. No. This could not be happening.
Mogul Razdunk pulled another paper from his tunic. "Let's see. It seems you are trying to conduct business without the Trade Princes support or express knowledge."
"First" he continued. "You orchestrated the theft of Mogul Ryzor's thunder lizard hides."
"What?" sputtered the Baron. "I did no such thing"
Mogul Razdunk looked at Pixel. "I have it on good authority, from Bibbs himself, that you paid for a betrayal. He was defeated, but Mogul Ryzor lost the hides on the high seas from EX-Blackwater Raiders? Really Baron."
"Second, we have the fuel regulator incident." Mogul Razdunk slammed his fist on the table. "We needed that regulator. The gnome team at the Mirage Raceway is pretty darn good. Our boys need every edge they can get. First you claim to have the fuel regulator, then we find out you only know where the blueprints are!"
The Baron sunk lower in his chair and muttered. "But we got the blueprints."
"And thirdly, why are you bribing Overseer Gazlowe with 99 year old port?"
Both Gazlowe and Revilgaz looked astonished. Gazlowe protested first. "I never got any port!" Revilgaz exclaimed. "That port was a gift! How do you know about it and where did it go?"
Mogul Razdunk sneered at the Baron. "I am asking the questions. We have no need for any comments from you." Pixel made a cutting motion across her neck and winked at Revilgaz.
"Finally, we now have proof of the full extent of your profits and enterprises in Booty Bay!" He waved the papers in the air.
"Baron Revilgaz, you are dismissed as we decide how to address these grievous acts against the Trade Coalition." He continued in a warning tone. "Don't leave Azeroth."
The Baron climbed down from his chair. No one around the table would meet his eyes except an especially gleeful Pixel.
Throwing his shoulders back and holding his head high, he marched from the room, letting the door slam behind him. His three bodyguards flanked him as he continued back to his Dimensional Ripper.
The Baron was anxious to return to Booty Bay. The whole meeting left him feeling sick, his stomach was knotted and a pain radiated from behind one eye. His bodyguards had to trot to keep up with him as he raced towards the Dimensional Ripper. He reached it and proceeded to make a few adjustments. With any luck, he would return to his rooms above the Salty Sailor Tavern and not to Everlook in Winterspring. He hoped he would also return as himself and not find himself on fire or a transformed into a kobol. He waved two of the bodyguards through. The minute wait seemed to crawl along in slow motion. Then he and the remaining bodyguard jumped through.
He found himself and one bodyguard standing in his great room. He shot a glance at the large mirror and was relieved to see he was himself. The bodyguard quickly faded away into his usual position. Revilgaz dashed towards the balcony. It was late, but maybe, maybe she would still be there. With enough gold he was sure he could get her forgiveness and maybe sympathy.
His heart fell as he saw Gaston, the fat little gnome food taster standing at the balcony railing looking over the bay. The table was set for two, elegant gold candleholders supporting the collapsed and sputtering lumps of candle wax. The feast was gone. Only crumbs of the meal were to be seen on the plates. The bottle of old port was empty and one glass rolled back and forth on the floor beneath the table.
His gasp of disappointment brought Gaston around to look at him. "Baron, oh Baron, sir. She left an hour ago. I am so sorry." And the little gnome truly looked saddened. "She really did enjoy the meal. She ate both yours and her portions. And drank a WHOLE bottle of the old port."
Revilgaz choked back a sob of frustration. "Thank you my friend. You are dismissed for tonight."
He sank onto one of the chairs. Across the bay the booming taunts of Mok'rash the sea giant residing on Janeiro's Point could be heard. "SMOTTS, I HAVE YOUR LITTLE BELT...COME GET IT!"
The Baron dropped his head into his hands. It had gone so wrong. What could he do? What should he do? He needed something cataclysmic. Picking up the empty bottle of port, he flung it out over the decks and into the bay.