Killing Time in Stranglethorn
Pulling up to dock in the Bay had often been an interesting experience for the many wayfarers who passed through the capes of southern Azeroth. For one thing, the recent disturbances by rival pirate factions had made traveling around the Maelstrom almost as dangerous as skirting that ancient disaster itself. For another, the indiscriminate nature of the Steamwheedle Cartel to allow anyone free transportation between its major seaport cities reflected an opportunistic neutrality in how it conducted its affairs situated comfortably between the interests of the up-till-recently warring powers of the Horde and the Alliance. And for individuals such as Hecklebury Smotts – who captained the Maiden's Fancy for the Cartel – that role of neutrality remained the best stance to take during the fatal disputes which broke out between passengers.
"Grash tag i'rathigar?" the olive-skinned orc shouted at Smotts, who showed more of an interest in navigating past the outer reefs than in the orc's concerns.
"For the fiftieth time, I don't speak blarmin' Orcish!" Smotts replied. "Now get your ugly puss out of my face and go bother someone else on my ship!"
"Greel nac ta ga ug'chalit! Bre' cral ca…" the orc replied, waving his hands impatiently. "…cra'cha kit'a!" Clenching his hands the orc went through a series of crude gestures, first curling them around each other as if trying to open a ball, then into a motion evocative of his lifting up two globules around chest level. Smotts glared at him and the orc looked to the two creatures that had followed him up onto the captain's deck – a spike-haired troll and an eyeless corpseman – for help.
"Hoo-man?" the troll offered, shrugging.
"Ai! Ai!" the orc said nodding enthusiastically. "U-ma. U-ma!" the orc repeated, making the uplifting gesture again. "Fee-may u-ma."
"Look, you think this ships runs itself by magic?" Smotts barked turning the wheel sharply. "Maybe up in 'drassil they got ships that do that but down here we do it the hard way. Now unless you want to float the rest of the way to Booty Bay…"
From where she crouched stealthed on the prow at the opposite end of the ship a silver-haired woman heard every vibrant detail of what Smotts was promising to do to the smelly brute and his friends attempting to find her. Hidden underneath the sternmost deck Eriswaun allowed herself a quiet chuckle as the cries of Orcish outrage were drowned out in a roar of salty expletives. It never ceased to amuse her how some humans like Smotts could be as hard-headed as orcs, if not more so at times.
"Well Eris," she whispered to herself, "I think we've had enough of this lot, don't you? Indeed," she answered and like a lynx dove off the prow into the water. The Maiden's Fancy passed on its way and coming up for air she spat a mouthful of seawater playfully at the retreating barge, while resisting the urge to call out after it. Cheers lads! While it's been fun do look me up sometime whenever you're in the area. Though her training allowed her to disappear at a moment's notice, they were close enough to land that her cockiness would scarcely go uncontested, and she didn't feel like warning more parties than necessary of her return to these pirate waters. Besides which, she had just noticed a clutch of stranglekelp during her dive that demanded her further attention.
Good luck boys, she thought diving down to collect the weed. Hope you've had your shots for cutthroats and thieves.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Cool up, mon," the troll hunter called letting his pet sprite darter out of its cage. "Deese girl who stole your ruby, she prob'ly gone already." Zz'mamel scratched the flying insect-lizard underneath its chin scales as the little creature perched on his shoulder. Behind him, a stalking raptor ran up and leapt for the creature as it settled down. Zz'mamel twisted out of the way just in time to save both the sprite darter and his shoulder. Devoid of its meal the raptor scratched at the ground and whined to its master. "Raaash, you stop dat! Ah fed you already!"
"No you don't get it," Kra'tunk growled as he stomped up the plank after the raptor onto the docks of Booty Bay. "That stone's for this quest I'm on! If I don't get that to some tauren in some swamp somewhere I can't get that axe the banshee promised me." He kicked one of the pier posts. "I want that axe!"
"Why are we even," a third figure called from behind Kra'tunk, "trusting this banshee anyway?" Nathan staggered up beside the other two, laden with three backpacks, five flasks of grog and a side of salted beef. "I may not be from the Barrens but up in Trisfal the only ghosts we don't keep tabs on are ones with the Scourge." He dropped everything but the one pack he had thrown over his own shoulders. "Or defectors," he added with a sneer.
"You be careful wit' dat booze mon," Zz'mamel said, stooping down to root through one backpack. "Ah gots me a client here who pay me good silver for it."
"You know, I'm starting to wonder if the only reason you keep me around is just to carry this crap around for you," Nathan replied. He surveyed the dock taking note of the varied humanoids fishing, begging, passing along or conducting 'business' around its edges. Many of these were humans he noted with some disgust, but the bulk of the Steamwheedle Cartel was had always been made up of goblins.
The entire city, if it could be called that, lay nestled in a grotto at the southernmost tip of the Azerothian peninsula. Settled far away from any of the major Horde or Alliance cities, Booty Bay served as the primary trade and, more importantly, smuggling point for miscellaneous goods into and out of the Eastern Kingdoms. Generally overseen by the Cartel, enough ambitious entrepreneurs had taken an interest in the rare and sometimes taboo items that found their way into goblin hands that it was not unusual to see an out-of-place night elf or tauren wander into these hodge-podge encampments.
What was most striking about Booty Bay was that aside from being established at the furthest point away from civilization on its chosen continent, the city itself was made from flotsam and jetsam that had somehow found its way into Cartel hands. Whether attributable to goblin resourcefulness or tightfistedness, Booty Bay was constructed out of the bones, masts and hulls of countless ships nailed together, lashed with rope and sealed by tar until it creaked and groaned as one being nested on stilts above the water.
"Too many living creatures around here," Nathan muttered under his breath.
"What?" Kra'tunk growled pawing at the beef to make sure it was still good.
"Nothing" Nathan replied, turning to fiddle with the straps on his backpack.
"Too many 'human' creatures you mean mon?" Zz'mamel said pulling his own bag on. "You fo'getting, deese ears, dey don't miss much."
Nathan grunted absentmindedly.
"And don' fo'get we keep you 'round fo' o'ter t'ings too," the troll beamed starting out towards the bank at the opposite end of the pier.
"Huh?" Nathan cocked his head.
"Shure we do mon," Zz'mamel grinned. "What better backstabbin' bastard you gonna find in deese parts?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Of all the rusty establishments in that goblin city none were so sleazy, rat-infested, run-down, full of cracks and dark corners or missing odd knotholes as the Salty Sailor Tavern. As ever a hive of villainy that there was, what drew the customers in more than the dwarven stout or junglevine wine were the sordid and assorted opportunities to advance one's lot in life. Whether by intrigue and conspiracy or through outright assassination information might be acquired there that could make or break one's fortune. In addition to that, the Salty Sailor was the only inn in town. It was, in other words, the center of Booty Bay community life and Baron Revilgaz's personal headquarters.
"Ah, Eriswaun! Thar be treasure in yer eyes!" a bald, pea-green creature with pointy ears and even sharper teeth beamed from his usual perch atop the prow extruding from the top of the tavern like a balcony and overlooking the whole of Booty Bay.
"'Allo Baron. Thought I'd take the conventional way in for a change. Don't mind?" Eriswaun said letting the rope she was holding snap back to its place amidst the rigging.
"Not at all matey, not at all!" Revilgaz said, moving to help the human woman down from on top of a smaller goblin. Eriswaun took the hand he offered and stepped off the dazed creature who had served as her landing pad. "Young Kebok here and I were just discussin' a matter of business about some tiger fangs he's been shipping out fer some time now that he's forgot to mention me… but what can I do fer you?"
"Oh, nothing much important since it seems you've got business right now, but, uh…" Eriswaun said casually walking the Baron over to one side of the prow, checking over her shoulder to make sure that Kebok was more occupied regaining his sense of equilibrium. "…I've come into a stone recently that I'd like you to evaluate for me. I've got my suspicions but… well, I trust your judgment more on these matters."
A funny glint passed through Revilgaz's eyes. "Eriswaun, I'd be a tickled murloc to help. Come back to me quarters later tonight and we'll go over that rock for you."
"If it's all right with you," Eriswaun said glancing at Kebok who was brushing off his clothes and trying to look as if he was not trying to listen in on their conversation, "could we just meet up back here?"
Revilgaz laughed. "Not at all! Not at all!" he said turning with Eriswaun towards the door leading into the tavern where a large bull-headed man with graying, roan fur and wearing a pirate admiral's hat was standing guard. "And then perhaps after you'll join me fer a pint? Skindle just got a keg of Evershine in from Brewnall Village earlier this week. If those dwarves know one thing it's how to brew their rum," he said with an almost sly grin.
"Perhaps," Eriswaun said returning his grin. "You know I'm a girl not to turn down a free drink."
Revilgaz laughed again, this time more heartily. "We'll see missy, we'll see!"
Eriswaun smiled and turned to look at the bull-man as she passed him by the door. "Fleet Master," she addressed nodding her head slightly. The tauren winked and nodded his head in return.
Inside the tavern was churning with its usual, assorted collection of mid-afternoon life. Weaving between tables, Eriswaun passed one group of dwarves enjoying a boisterous repast of their exploits. At another table was an odd collection of female magicians belonging to both sides of the Horde/Alliance divide who were talking in muted tones and throwing occasional glances around the busy room. Eriswaun made her way downstairs to the main bar.
"A spot of something nippy, Nixxrax, or whatever's good for a buzz," Eriswaun ordered.
The dirty goblin behind the counter laughed and spun around, pulled out bottles from well-placed crannies and mixed together some concoction that sent Eriswaun's head swirling just from the fumes.
"Try that!" Nixxrax said, grinning offering up a shot.
"Oof. What is it?" Eriswaun said after one sip.
"Oh, just a little bit from all over. Here and there. Mostly there really."
"You used Pinot Noir in this?" Eriswaun asked. Nixxrax nodded. "I can't believe you made that piss taste good." She threw back the rest of the shot in one gulp.
"You like?" the goblin asked, rubbing a glass vigorously with a dirty towel.
Eriswaun nodded putting five silver coins down. "Good good. Sharp. I think I'll have a stout for now though."
Nixxrax laughed and swiped the silver off the counter and filled a tankard from one of the huge barrels behind him. "Glad I can help!"
Claiming her drink, still slightly buzzed from the shot, Eriswaun made her way to an unoccupied edge of the bar where she could lean against it while still being able to see almost anyone not trying to be unseen. Sipping the stout, she allowed its mellow taste to roll over her tongue while going over a list of things to do in her head.
"Dere be the Eriswaun dere ever was," a basso voice cooed of the darkness beside her. She clenched her jaw without bothering to turn or look.
"Ven'jiij. I thought I smelled carrion the moment I stepped in," she said returning to her drink. The voice chuckled as its owner shed the illusion of stealth about his body and materialized at the bar right next to Eriswaun.
"You know," the smooth-headed troll sporting an eyepatch said leaning closer on one elbow, "some species consider rotting flesh to be a major turn-on?" Nixxrax popped up with a flagon of mead that the troll had apparently ordered. Ven'jiij smiled around the two giant tusks that protruded from his upper jaw as he took the brew.
"Mmm. Remind me to count myself out of them then when I come up with a compliment more clever than you," Eriswaun replied.
"Oouch. You do me harm mash'Eri" Ven'jiij feigned hurt. "You not still mad at me for beating you to dat one artifact? You know, you could always try to steal it back."
"I'm afraid I might end up killing you" she said between a cocked eyebrow and her drink.
Ven'jiij laughed and leaned back. "Hey, how'd you like ta see my new blade?"
"No thanks," Eriswaun said. "I've seen…" but before she could finish the troll had in one lightning fast movement ripped a dagger from his belt and driven it sharply into the bar. Eriswaun had instinctively reacted by pulling her own offhand dagger out of its sheath but paused when she saw the troll's blade. Curved and wicked-looking, it glowed with a faint purple light that seemed to eat into the darkness around it. Dark runes written in some ancient tongue were etched into its naked edge, and even though Ven'jiij had not let go of the dagger her own hand itched to grasp its hilt. "…where'd you get that?"
"Killed a man for it," Ven'jiij said, quaffing. "Tall, overmuscled, move too slow… friend of yours?
"No."
"Pity." Ven'jiij ripped the dagger out of the table and returned it to his side where he exchanged it for a few silver coins he gave to Nixxrax, who had been idly waiting for payment. "So I see you been swimmin' lately," he said as Nixxrax puttered off. "Wouldn't have anything to do with de Fancy coming in now would it?"
Eriswaun was about to avoid answering when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Glancing back she turned abruptly into a fist that sent her spinning into Ven'jiij's arms and sploshing a goblin behind him with the contents of her tankard.
"Seems you popular today, mosh'Eri" Ven'jiij said around a huge grin. Eriswaun pushed herself out of his chest and turned to face her assailant. Some of the tavern patrons turned to watch the drama unfold between a young woman dressed in a flared cuff shirt and Eriswaun.
"I can't believe you'd actually show your face again here," spat the brunette-maned girl a few summers short of her twentieth year.
"Catelyn, love…" Eriswaun said shaking her gloved hands free of stout. Ven'jiij's chuckling drew a glare from the silver-haired woman.
"I'll leave you two girls alone," the troll snickered. "See you around," he said throwing back the rest of his drink, "Eriswaus." Slamming the empty glass back down on the bar he half-faded, half-vanished as the illusion of stealth once more eclipsed his body.
"Darling–" Eriswaun began again.
"Cut it!" Caetlyn snapped back. "Last time you flew out of here so fast I didn't get a chance to properly thank you for returning my blade. Funny thing is, I get up the next morning after a really good night to find my blade missing, and see you taking off on a griffin."
"I didn't steal your dagger!" Eriswaun replied, shocked. "How could you even think me responsible for such a thing?"
"Let's think. Rogue," Caetlyn pointed at Eriswaun, "locked room," she jerked her thumb up towards the ceiling, "and you and me the only ones in there all night."
"And am I the only rogue in Booty Bay?"
"You're the only one who knew what I had!"
"Caetlyn, love, you're not being rational." Eriswaun set her tankard down. "Think about it, why would I want to steal your dagger?"
"Because of my father…" Caetlyn gritted her teeth and turned to the bar with a huff. Eriswaun put a hand on the girl's shoulder and squeezed for attention.
"Your father loves you very much," Eriswaun said. "I know it's trite to say but he really does care about his daughter."
"Just because he's a wizard –" Caetlyn shot back.
"In Dalaran. Love," Eriswaun moved behind Caetlyn to whisper in her hair and rub both shoulders with her hands. "Everybody knows the wizards of Dalaran are strong. Powerful enough to resist the Bruning Legion. That's why he can't see you; he can't abandon his post. But don't you think that he spends every moment when he's not fighting demons thinking about you?"
"It's just not fair!" Caetlyn growled. "It's the only thing he ever gave me. He couldn't spend even five minutes away without thinking about that damned barrier and he…" Eriswaun could feel the brunette shuddering beneath her and moved her arms around to embrace the girl. Idly she noted the smell of salt and sea breezes caught within Caetlyn's hair as the girl loosened somewhat into her grip.
"You know you could always–"
"I'm not going back!" Caetlyn knocked Eriswaun aside violently with her shoulder and stormed up the inn's staircase. "Dalaran can drop into the Maelstrom for all I care. I'm never going back!" She turned at the top of the stairs. "And you," she said glaring at Eriswaun, "I hope you fall off a griffin. Or get caught by a troll someday. Maybe then you'll see someone else around you other than Eriswaun!"
Eriswaun looked up at the girl, openly hurt by the sharp words. Caetlyn's face displayed a skirmish of emotions, jumping from anger and rage to sorrow and regret, before settling for a simmering hatred and she spat at the older woman. Eriswaun wiped the girl's spittle off her tunic with a disinterested hand, watching Caetlyn disappear into the galley of the Salty Sailor. She turned back to the bar and hear a basso snickering faintly beside her.
"Oh shut up," Eriswaun said, returning to what was left of her drink, with considerably less enthusiasm than before.