Chapter 2: Inconvenient matters
Greymur's house was actually not far from the tavern, yet he chose not to go straight home. He needed a longer walk with Rena to get his mind straight on things and decided to walk down the wharf for distraction.
The wharf was filled with people, captains shouting at their crew, workers unloading wares, carts getting packed with stock that would go to the warehouses in town.
As the night boat was about to dock somebody on deck used a red light to sign to the one of the wharf, who signed back with a white light, to guide the boat where to dock. Busy as ever.
A prostitute tried to lure in customers as she showed some leg to the sailors that were gathered on the dock. Workers unloading another shipment. Passengers walking of the second night boat after their documents were approved. Greymur walked on, one arm resting on Rena's head. The she-wolf was so big that she easily reached his chest.
There was always something to do around here. Ratchet never rested. Here it was business around the clock, where some merchants chose to open up their shops at night others opened during the day. Some had shop the whole day if they had the staff for it. A normal day around the small goblin town. Four Ratchet Bruisers ran past the orc, shouting loudly and screaming to another pair of Bruisers that they needed assistance. Another normal sight Greymur realized. Security was good enough for a busy port like this.
Greymur always wondered what was going on when there were Bruisers running for something. Especially when he saw them run toward the upper part of the town. Usually they were needed down the docks or on the boats, near the warehouses in case of thievery. The ones on duty always patrolled the harbor extra.
Ratchet was build near a mountain slope and close by the sea. It had many different streets, a main road and many small side streets. Down near the docks they had tried to create an even path to make transport of goods and shipments easier for the workers. Last thing they wanted were workers that sprained their backs while walking up the steeper part of Ratchet. Sometimes it could not be helped though.
More Ratchet Bruisers ran past him and Rena. The wolf jumped aside as one almost knocked her over. The shouted – watch out- made sure Greymur chose a different street so he would not walk into anybodies way. It was better not to get into a fight with any of these goons.
Ratchet Bruisers would not hesitate to hit you if you weren't cooperative. He had seen enough end up in shackles after a drunken fight. Security needed to be tight in a town like Ratchet, as it would attract not only business people. Unfortunately it also lured criminals. On daily bases, he doubted any Ratchet Bruiser would be bored in their job. As catching thieves was not all they did. They did many things, from escorting people around, to security matters, sometimes they were bouncers for one of the brothels, or required to hunt down several of the ever growing raptor population that could pose a threat. Ratchet Bruisers weren't persons to pick a fight with. Yet there were only few non goblin Bruisers he knew off.
Probably people like himself that settled in the goblin town because of its neutrality or were looking for a job. Ratchet was full of opportunities and jobs. They always needed people down the mine.
Even though most of the inhabitants were from the goblin race, other races were as common as any goblin.
Ratchet had something for everyone. If you had money to spend than anything was possible here. Here you could gamble in the casino's. Find yourself a prostitute for a night or fun. There was trade from all over the continent found here. Music, entertainment, you name it. Ratchet had it all. For the rich, poor, any layer of sorts. Which also meant tight security. Close monitoring of everything that went on and safety for those within Ratchet was necessary.
A tough job for the one that arranged all of that, Greymur knew.
After he left Twilight Highlands and traveled towards Orgrimmar, Ratchet had been one of the places he wanted to visit. Mostly because of the goblins he had met during his stay in the orc capital. Some on the ships told him interesting stories he listened to, deciding he was going to see that for himself. He made a whole list of places he wished to see after he left Orgrimmar.
One of the first time Greymur entered Ratchet he amazed himself about the wonders of the boats that docked and the marketplace where they shouted wonderful things he had never seen before. Ratchet never slept. The new smells that caught his nose, the techniques he saw, endless wonders of strange things.
In the Goblin Slums in Orgrimmar they taught him how to make a raptor stew in at least four different ways. In Ratchet he learned six more, adding different herbs and spices to his own taste. Even though the goblin barbeque didn't appeal to his way of cooking, he learned to appreciate the weird and different variety of recipes you could make with it.
While traveling towards he came through the Crossroads. A nice and quiet place with good sphere, very different from noisy Ratchet. Yet Ratchet had something…wonderful. Something he wanted part of.
Here he saw a bar fight almost end in a murder once, when one of the drunken costumers took on one of the Ratchet Bruisers. The man barely lived to tell the tale after his beating, and probably never caused a riot again with one of Gazlowes henchmen. Even though small in height, they could whack you unconscious if necessary.
Rena gave a short bark. With her nose in the air she pointed into a certain direction… the smell of food. He smelled it too. Greymur grinned for a moment. "Clever girl," he told her. They had not really had anything proper to eat all day, so he changed his mind on turning around to walk into the direction Rena's nose pointed in. Food was good before he would go home.
There was certainly no lack of food in and around Ratchet. You could easily hunt fresh prey outside Ratchet. And there were too many food shops to go around. The orc decided to buy something at a vendor shouting how good his wares tasted. The man sold different types of spiced meat and fish. Too much choice, so he eventually settled for a couple of meat sticks.
"Two," he said, and paid the goblin who quickly wrapped the two sticks in a piece of paper, adding a greased grin to Greymur when he said he had a sale on the fish in his shop as well. The flies buzzing around the fish did not appeal very much to take the offer, not even when he heard the price.
So he settled with just two sticks of meat. Rena's nose instantly pressed against his hand he held the packages in. "Snack diva," he told her, unwrapping the paper and taking the stick out for her to chew the meat up.
He lingered near the entrance of the market, pondering if he would take a stroll across to see if they had anything he liked. Sometimes he did business with the leatherworkers after a good hunt. They would gladly take the skins of his hands for a trade of their own goods. Sometimes he had to bargain for it, to get the right price. But if Jeri was with him that was no problem.
Goblins used a strange system of payment and trading favors among each other if they knew you.
The huge tent near the market area close to the wharf was already being prepared for the next morning. Any normal vendors would stay out of there. Once a month that specific part would be used for a special kind of animal event. It would be hosted as a gathering of businessmen and women that would eat and drink in the secluded area, served by men and women of all races.
They would have rare animals on display, exotic birds, rare species that could be trained as mounts, if you had money owners were quickly changed that day.
That the animals weren't the only ones that swopped owners for the right price did not seem to matter. By the morrow they would be gone, these business people. Left town as silently as they would have come in. Though slavery wasn't mentioned, they simply covered it up with the special animal event. Surely real animal trainers attended the monthly event, though they were rare. He did not like that kind of trade. Not that he could change anything about it. Unfortunately it still happened all over Azeroth.
The normal market area never really closed, only at night less vendors were active then during the day. If you had something of value to trade you were certainly at the right place here. At first Greymur was mainly surprised by the crowd that gathered here on daily bases. The variety of different races that were looking to buy and sell was huge. Very different from what he had been accustomed to in Twilight Highlands.
Since the Dragonmaw clan was 'accepted' by the Horde things had changed. With Zaela as their new Warlord they set a new future for their clan. As their previous Warlord had not been the same after his return from Outlands. He was no longer pure, corrupted as Zaela stated.
The red skin tone and the weird fangs that changed his appearance should have warned the whole clan, but they abided by his iron fist and did not dare go against him. Those who did died a horrible death .
But Zaela freed them in a sort of way. Secretly gathering people to aid her cause. Telling everybody no Dragon maw was the same and they should stand up against their leader. When the Horde came they sent an ambassador, the man was killed for trying to reason with the Warlord. By then Zaela already rounded up troops to set the old Warlord aside. Greymur followed her example. Showing that not every Dragonmaw orc was the same. The eventual acceptance of the clan into the Horde gave him the same rights as other orcs they were told.
So he decided, for himself, he wanted to leave Twilight Highlands. Having brought no honor to his clan so far and having no living relatives anymore, he wanted something new. Not that he did not have obligations to his clan, he did, old obligations. And after talking to Zaela orcs in the clan were granted permission to leave if they wanted. Some left together with him, others stayed to clean up and rebuilt. He chose to leave behind the place where he had lived all of his life.
At first he had sought refuge in Orgrimmar, to gaze at the huge city and all its inhabitants. Working as a grunt to earn a living was doable, same sort of work different place. Life in Orgrimmar was expensive thought, he found out. Not as easy as living in a clan like he was used to.
During his off-duty time he was usually found in the Goblin Slums like so many grunts. There he got to know Dankin, a goblin, with a profession that appealed to him. The man talked to him about bonding with animals. About skills, about fighting together with your pet in battle. Greymur was fascinated. He got along with Dankin. Eventually the goblin agreed to teach him the tricks of the hunter class during his time off.
After that Greymur decided to use this new skill to find out what the rest of Azeroth had to offer him. Before leaving Orgrimmar he found Rena. Buying her as a puppy from the riding trainer who did not see much potential in her. She was considered too weak to carry anybody as a worg he told Greymur. She would never fit the status of a proper riding mount. So she became his pet.
Together they traveled farther inland, toward the wild Barrens where he eventually ended up in Ratchet.
Ratchet held everything. And mostly because of its neutrality, Ratchet gave Greymur the opportunity to ask permission to settle in town temporary. Gazlowe proved not to be such a bad guy. When he found out Greymur wasn't work shy he asked him for the strangest jobs. Depending on the demand, he offered jobs that had to do with hunter skills and sometimes strength. Greymur did not lack strength nor stamina. He did not mind the strange jobs they made him do.
With the money he made a descent living, as the weirder jobs earned you a better profit. Combined with his own little trade as a skinner he did not do badly. There was always demand for different types of leather in a trade port like Ratchet.
He liked Gazlowe, goblin or not. Whatever Gazlowe had done in his past Greymur did not wish to know, but whatever Gazlowe tried to build here in Ratchet was something he appreciated.
When Greymur moved to Ratchet he could even chose between two vacant housing opportunities. Which was lucky, because the previous owners had disappeared under vague circumstances. If it had something to do with the two corpses dangling on the gallows he did not know, but that the two houses were vacant was a fact. And he had a choice.
One stood in the middle of the wharf between a casino and a brothel, where the throng of customers immediately ran down your door. If you were unlucky your door would be mistaken for and people would constantly knock for a night of fun.
Even with the stunning view of the harbor and the sea, Greymur chose for the other house instead. Knowing all too well that a good night of rest weighed heavier then the view. Seeing the bouncers escort somebody out was fun for a couple of times, thought he would get bored with the scenery. Though he never got tired of seeing a drunken customer being escorted from one of the brothels towards the dock and ending up dumped in the water cool off. They would usually pull the customer out so he could regain notification of reality again.
So the second option Gazlowe offered him lay a little more up town, close to the foot of the mountain, more in the direction of the Broken Keel Tavern.
His house was situated between the blacksmith, a fishmongers, a brewery and Zanak, a goblin slash inventor (calling himself "chef the new cuisine" for Ratchets finest) with his small restaurant where he combined his engineering skills with strange culinary cooking. Zanak wasn't a very good cook though.
Greymur soon found out that living between these neighbors was a far better choice than the option he had on the wharf. The only downside was the smell of burnt food or exploded fish, depending on whatever it was Zanak had in mind. Usually followed by the endless discussions between him and his brother Ranik about the choices Zanak had made. Ranik thought that his brother would have been better off into 'trade supplies' like himself. Instead of wasting his time finding the ultimate combination of self-built furnaces that worked on explosives and unappetizing cooking. Quarrels between the two were normal everyday life in Ratchet as well.
Greymur loved it.
And he grew to like Ratchet more and more as a new home, carefully making new friends among the strange goblins that sometimes crossed his path. Noisy Ratchet, where the wild entertainment was for everybody. Regardless of race, color or gender.
While Greymur ate his meat stick, Rena tried to attract his attention. Distracting him from his food so she could try and snatch it from the stick and have herself another treat. With a short bark she watched him with shining yellow eyes, nose toward the meat stick. "No snack diva, go catch a rabbit if you are still hungry," he told her and ate the last piece of his meat. Rena let out a sound that was almost devastating. "Lazy worg. There is plenty of prey running around," Greymur said to her.
Rena eventually disappeared on a late night hunt while Greymur decided to walk back home for a quiet evening.
"It's all YOUR fault Hurias," Jeri's unmistakable loud voice was heard half a mile away. Greymur shook his head as he noticed the elf and female goblin sat on his doorstep while he made his way up the dim lighted path towards his house.
It looked like he would get little rest tonight. Jeri scolded Hurias, calling him a steaming pile of rotten kododung, while the elf in all his politeness dared not go further then give her a warning that she might wish to reconsider whatever her sharp tongue would make her say next, just in case she would regret it later.
Greymur chuckled, Jeri was totally the opposite of Hurias. Nobody could match Jeri's dirty mouthed way of talking when she was in the wrong mood, or very very drunk. If there were, then he had yet to meet them.
It always made him wonder even more about how a goblin woman like her ever made it into a rogue to start with, having such a sparkling and charming personality and for most that loud voice. You'd think an enemy would be notified immediately when Jeri was around.
"When did it suddenly become my fault?" He heard Hurias say. Greymur could picture the elf would be turning red in his face by now. Even though he could not see them properly, he heard them well though. "As of NOW!" Jeri yelled. Hurias huffed.
"I refuse to accept your accusations," was the reply from the blonde-haired elf. By now Jeri would probably look like she could blow up the whole of Ratchet."Keep your mouth shut ugly boy or I will smack my fist in your face!" He heard her promise.
"Try me!" Hurias said boldly. "I will ram all those shiny white teeth down your throat if you do not shut the hell up ... I mean it!" As Greymur approach the house he could now see a Jeri that clenched her fists and jumped from one leg to the other in anger. "What seems to be the problem?" They both instantly shut their mouths when he stepped forward.
"I could almost hear your damned drama from down by the port! What did you think? Let's argue because there isn't enough to do around Ratchet?" His comment was cynical and Jeri and Hurias looked slightly taken aback when the orc hunter passed them to open his door.
"Jatfast has been arrested," Hurias began. Jeri looked at him with a sharp eye when he gave her a rude gesture. Greymur turned abruptly. "Arrested? Why?" He frowned. What did the male half of the goblin set do this time?
"They would not even tell what he was arrested for!" Jeri said hurtful. "I bet for peeking!" Hurias said. Jeri gritted her teeth, showing her fists to made sure he knew she would really punch him in the nose if he made one more wrong comment. "He did not!" She insisted. "Did too!" He heard Hurias say in a childish way.
It still amazed him to see Hurias could be so timid at times and suddenly bite into the fact he thought he was right about something. The elf was not about to give up, which meant he had a point.
Greymur heard them continue their quarrel, the bickering between Jeri and Hurias wasn't something new. He let them do their thing, without feeling the desire to interfere into the conversation. So he made it easy for himself, sitting down into a chair at his kitchen table and laying his feet up on another chair. The best place to observe the troublemakers until they would stop bickering and come to the point. This was at least as entertaining as Ranik and Zanak arguing.
"GREYMUR! YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!"Jeri shouted in his ear. He gritted his teeth from the fierce sound causing a large amount of irritation in his ear. He restrained himself. Poking a finger in his ear to even the pressure as he inhaled through his nose. The popping sound after he pulled his finger out felt good. Though it angered him she always did that. Shout so close to his ears.
"Shut your horrible trap for a moment Jeri and tell me in a normal voice what exactly is going on here," he said a little bit angry. "But you weren't listening to me!" She claimed. "You do not surely think I for one would involve myself in an argument where you try to intimidate every member of your party by screaming from the top of your lunges do you?" She almost looked ashamed after that. She even shut up for a moment.
"Good, now tell me what the problem is? In a normal tone please?" He said dryly. Jeri's mouth hung open, perplexed at his amused look.
"I seriously hope that you have a hoarse voice and sore throat tomorrow," he heard Hurias say quietly in Jeri's direction. It made Greymur laugh softly.
"I heard that!" Jeri scolded him, jumping up and down as is she was trying to hit Hurias with a full fist in his face. The elf stepped back in time for her to miss him.
"Enough play. Tell me what's wrong?" Greymur hushed the whole thing. He offered Jeri, now considerately out of breath, a chair. Hurias kept at a safe distance from the angry goblin woman.
"They have arrested him," she began. "Gazlowe's…or rather Asalt's men, and I do not know why!" She did not sound so strong anymore, her ears drooped. It wasn't like Asalt to arrest anybody without notifying them of what they were accused off.
"And you have really no idea?" Greymur asked again. Sometimes Jeri held the answer to her own questions, but in her overwhelming ways she easily forgot about that. Though this time she could not give a straight answer, not even when she thought about it longer than usual. Shaking her head she looked at him. Greymur stroked his chin, feeling the stubble of an early beard coming through. It gave an annoying scratching sound when he stroked his chin again.
"Hurias?" He looked at the elf. The blonde-haired young man also looked doubtful.
"We were still in the tavern after you were long gone and then some shady-looking individuals came up to Jatfast. He spent talking to them for a while and then invited them to join our table," the elf said.
"That's what we like to call friends… Hurias!" Jeri sneered at him. Greymur scowled at her, "Jeri, shut up ... please!" She bit her bright red lower lip in disapproval.
"Well at least they laughed at your clumsy behavior," she muttered. "Shut it Jeri! Let him finish!" Greymur fist hit the table. Jeri froze completely.
Hurias cleared his throat as Greymur gave him a nod.
"Those shady types -that were actually laughing at my adventure with the tray and the young lady- seemed to know Jatfast quite well. And Jatfast had to brag about how he could have nipped that jade looking armor of that woman if I had not been so clumsy. They were gone pretty quickly after that," the elf managed to tell, still a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation himself.
"Yeah Hurias, they laughed so hard that the hooded one needed to be supported to stand up straight by one of my friends!" Jeri muttered. Hurias did not remember which one she meant but he ignored her. He looked at Greymur before he continued.
"First it was quiet and then we heard a very loud scream and there was a lot of commotion upstairs in the tavern. As if someone was moving heavy furniture. You could even hear the noise and the screams through the noise in the tavern. Wiley ran upstairs -angry like he is- and came back screaming for one of his employees to fetch the Bruisers. He was shaking and all and before we knew it there were more than six Ratchet Bruisers rushing into the tavern, pointing weapons at us. Nobody was allowed to go anywhere," the elf said.
Greymur remembered the Ratchet Bruisers that passed him earlier. Hurias wasn't done talking yet. "When they came back from upstairs they had arrested someone, I could not tell properly who it was, but I think it might have been one of those figures Jatfast had been talking to at our table earlier. He was clapped in irons himself not long after that and taken away without question or notification of what he was accused off. Then everybody was told to leave the tavern ...," Hurias was quite upset Greymur noticed. "How many were there?" Greymur looked at Hurias. "How many Ratchet Bruiser? I do not remember," Hurias grumbled about the odd sounding question.
"How many of these shady characters?" Greymur repeated himself, he needed to know. Hurias folded his shoulders, he did not quite remember how many.
"FRIENDS!" Jeri bleated between the conversation. Greymur looked at her, a stern expression on his face. "I hope they truly are your friends," the orc said. She did not follow his thoughts, her lips forming angry words until it suddenly hit her and she formed an "oooohh" to understand what Greymur was thinking.
"Noooo…they wouldn't," she said, convinced that her friends were her friends. Greymur did not know for sure, as long as he did not have a proper answer yet. He could only imagine they had set up Jatfast. So he did not give her a reply, but he thought enough.
"What will happen now? What will happen to my sweetheart?" Jeri asked, trying to hold herself together. Her shoulders slumped. Hurias placed a hand for comfort on her hand. She did even snap at him for that, she did not say anything too him, instead she took his hand and squeezed it. Greymur got up. "Where are you going?" Jeri instantly jumped up as well. He shrugged. "I'm not sure what to think of this, but it won't harm to check if I can catch some information about what really happened there," he said.
Jeri nodded a violent yes, squashing Hurias his fingers by gripping his hand even more tightly. The blood elf made a painful face when she squeezed his fingers again.
Outside of the Broken Keel Tavern there was a large curious crowd hoping for the same as Greymur when he arrived. To get some answers. Even Wiley was standing outside his own tavern. He saw more people he knew in the crowd. The large group consisting out of all walks of life, muttering and guessing the wildest things. He simply joined the crowd, hoping to catch something that might give him a clue.
"Evening Greymur," next to him stood a goblin male with strange half goggles, he knew he was called Zef. The man only nodded to Greymur as he squirmed himself deeper towards the front of the crowd to get the best view. There was plenty of gossip and hints about what might have happened. Not that it made sense of what really happened but still.
One claimed an angry traveler that had nearly jumped off the night boat had come to the tavern late at night, running up the stairs of the inn and kicking in the door to one of the rooms because his woman apparently had a secret affair. Another said he seen a human in a corner behave secretly and steal some of the food Wiley had laid on a plate to serve to a customer. Yet a third bold story told about a rogue that pick pocketed the whole tavern without any of the customers noticing their money pouches were missing. The fourth whispered of a woman that had seduced one of Wiley's customers, taken him upstairs and then killed him!
To Greymur none of these stories made much sense.
"Move away! Back off! Security coming through!" The group that stood flat nosed against the front door of the closed tavern was brutally driven apart by a bunch of Ratchet Bruisers. They weren't exactly gentle these Bruisers as Greymur heard several whacking their way around. Four more Ratchet Bruisers made sure that the large group of spectators were stepping back to make room.
"Please move! There's nothing to see here! Just let us do our job," one of the Bruisers grumbled while dangerously pointing his weapon at one of the too nosy goblins up front. He wacked the man straight in the face when he refused to move. The goblin instantly made scares when the Bruiser dared him again.
When the door of the tavern opened again they brought out a woman. She desperately tried to hold a towel wrapped around her body while being escorted by one of the Ratchet Bruisers. She held her head high, not looking at anybody when she stepped through on her bare feet. Greymur gasped when he saw her. The long auburn colored hair hung almost to her hips when she passed the spot where he stood.
"Miss Riselle!" he blurted out in disbelief, repeating the name of the woman louder. She did not hear him. He tried to turn and get out of the group of spectators that was gazing at the woman that was taken away. There was muttering. Did she have anything to do with the fact Wiley's tavern was closed? Or the screaming upstairs? The so called murder? Or was she the woman that secretly held an affair. Then were was the man that kicked in the door? They all gazed at the tavern door again, the group sticking together like glue in the hopes of something new. Perhaps a third person that would be brought out in irons or a corpse?
Greymur used his elbow to push himself out of the crowd.
"OUT OF THE WAY!" A bruiser called to a newly formed crowd as they walked down the dim lighted path that went down town. Greymur was stopped in his tracks by one of the Ratchet Bruisers blocking his way. "Hold on orc, the road will be free again once we have escorted the prisoner," the man told him. Greymur could only see how they disappeared around the corner…