Booty Bay, Stranglethorn Vale (Moonguard)
1.Shal’tokon had carried a street rep before being approached to join Blackwater as being a fairly tough Forest Troll of the Revantusk tribe. Trolls may have looked alike to non-Trolls, except when it came to the high bearing of the Zandalari, but there were subtle differences that separated the so-called lesser tribes from one another. Shal’tokon’s skin was a shade of foam green with a lighter shade of grass green for hair. His eyes were a dull copper color, both intact and lacking that little scar above the brow that was popular with the young sellswords looking to establish an immediate rep. Shal’tokon earned his reputation by action on the battlefields of Arathi during the Fourth War. The colors he sported when he was set to meet Blackwater representatives for a job were the black and burnt orange of a Hammerfall Outrider.
It was on the battlefields of Arathi that Shal’tokon of the Revantusk tribe got his sobriquet: Sally Eyegouge. One was the style of tusk that grew from his mouth: short, straight forward ivory, with only a slight bow in their shape, making them appear straight when the tips were slightly pointed up. The second involved a Human soldier on the battlefields of Arathi that no longer had eyes to see, not unless the man had managed to convince the Hierophant at Greenwarden’s Grove to enact the costly rituals to regenerate the missing organs. Shal’tokon’s only regret was that the Goblin he rescued during that pitched battle had decided to honor the Revantusk by giving him the nickname. If Shal could blackmail a member of the bronze flight to take him back in time, he would have convinced his past self to let the Goblin die with his belly split open and squirming. Shal’tokon hoped the needles he stuck in effigy he had made of the Goblin continued to pain his comrade’s groin.
The Fourth War was now over and the armistice had come about between the great factions. Shal’tokon was in Booty Bay when he had gotten word after one or two escort and bodyguard jobs that the Blackwater Company was hiring capable people to fill out its ranks on both the Horde and Alliance. Shal’tokon was aware of Blackwater by its Alliance reputation only. The Company was Human controlled and its power base was out of Boralus and several small islands that lay off Baradin Bay. They were successful, but Alliance centric with little footing in the Horde market.
The liaison for a Blackwater recruitment meeting in Booty Bay was a Gnome who had a table at Booty Bay’s Salty Sailor tavern, second floor, against the railing that overlooked the common room and was a few steps short of the third floor stairwell that led to the Captain’s Hull of the tavern. From the outside, the fore of the ship that had been hollowed out and wedged into the top of the tavern was visible. It was the off-hours, Baron Revilgaz’s direct crew and his select Bruisers, the Black Shirts, had the day off which left the stairs open. It wouldn’t matter if anyone penetrated the Captain’s Hull, the Baron was either in his office at the Booty Bay Port Authority, or enjoying his beachside villa with a platoon of guards and a bevy of Goblin women to do his nails and feet.
Gaffaden had ordered a pitcher of grog to share between them, “So, why are you interested in joining Blackwater?” Gaffaden was fair skinned despite living several years on the Bay. The paleness of Khaz Modan was difficult to shave off, no matter how much time Gaff spent under the Stranglethorn sun. He had dark hair with a natural cut and green eyes that were flecked with gold. His mustache was neatly trimmed neat.
“Money enough o’ a motivation, boss?” Shal asked, his common accent in the Troll dialect. Male or female, he casually referred to those with any stature as Boss.
“It is, but we do appreciate a sense of dedication from our crew members. You from Stranglethorn?”
Shal shook his head slowly, he had to check his tone before answering: “I’m a Revantusk, boss. Forest Troll. I’m na anymore welcome ‘ere than you are by local trolls. Bad blood between tribes.”
“I’d say the Skullsplitters and Bloodscalps aren’t really friendly to anyone- Horde or Alliance alike, so you and I are in the same boat. What about relations around here in town?”
“I’m sure I gotta rep, what you hear about me since we last talked?” Shal asked.
“Your name is Sally Eyegouge, but you get that low look and-” Gaffaden tapered off when he heard the low, drawn out grunt that Shal’tokon had expressed at the tile, “You’re not a big fan of the name. On a positive note, you’ve also got a rep for being loyal to the contract, or at least being as loyal as possible. You’ve done Coin Guard work with a few independent operators and small groups. You know how to ride a raptor and you’re known to be capable with guns and bows along with various melee weapons. Your name comes from you using your very tusks in combat. That a common thing for Trolls?”
“Na as common as ya might think. Tusk breaks are painful, an’ even impalin’ a man’s eyes is a good way ta get an injury. It was a move o’ desperation that got me tha nickname.”
“What made you desperate to use your tusks?”
“Tha Stromic was chagrin’ and I had run outta bullets,” Shal’tokon said.
Gaff nodded. He didn’t carry any files with him, any information that he had retained from his brief background research into the Troll was taken from memory after Gaff had asked around from several reliable sources who were in the information trade within Booty Bay. Gaff paid for the lunch and poured himself an extra cup of cherry grog, the two had almost killed the pitcher and Gaff was eager to ensure none of the drink went to waste on the Company’s silver.
“I heard you got another job tonight. A protection run with several merchants meeting a money lender. You know who you are up against?” Gaff asked, his green eyes studying Shal’tokon while his thumb nudged his chin. The Gnome was reading the Revantusk’s reaction.
“His name is Bullis ‘tha Bull’ Coinbender, he’s an independent moneylender, on fair terms wit’ tha Cartel.”
“He’s one of Gazrix’s agents before Bullis left The Fixer’s employ. You know his reputation? He’s known to have a bodycount of people who don’t pay their debts to them. Why do you think the merchant’s have brought you in?”
Shal’tokon grinned, showing his pointed canines, practically fangs that were a gift from the loa of bats, he said, “My winnin’ personality, boss. If I had ta wager on why I’ve been asked ta come, I’d say someone is nervous about tha meetin’ and wants ta walk out alive.”
“You’re willing to put your life on the line for the client?” Gaff asked.
“I’m there ta do a job, boss. I took half tha money, I’m gonna get tha rest by going through the night.” Shal’tokon rose from his seat and stretched out his back. Standing at his full height, eight feet tall, trolls were towering creatures who could stand above their Orcish allies and look a female Tauren in the face. They towered over Humans at full height, and especially towered over Gnomes. If the effect was an attempt to intimidate Gaffadan, the Gnome never reacted. Gaff had tagged and bagged creatures from across Azeroth while working as a bounty hunter. Gaff never read Shal’tokon’s movements as posturing, the Revantusk seemed too relaxed to try and play a game one upmanship with the Gnome, Shal’tokon rolled his shoulders and drew his long arms behind his back before settling in his hunched posture which allowed him to fit through doors. The effect seemed like murder on the spine, but Trolls could always revert to their full height with ease, their bodies regenerated any atrophied muscle of bones at an astounding rate compared to any other race short of the proud Zandalari.
“I admire that dedication to the contract, the Company admires that same attitude. I’d offer to help, but I think any Goblin would be foolish to try anything with you watching.”
“We shall see, boss,” Shal’tokon said casually, “We shall see.”
The two agreed to meet after Shal’tokon had fulfilled his obligations to the mercantile client that had approached them. The two had walked outside the Salty Sailor, passing by a pair of Goblin Bruisers on patrol and carrying out their duties of sipping pints while speaking with an Orc fisherman who was mending his nets while cursing a storm as green calloused hands fumbled to entangled lines. The only Human, there were one or two living in the city, was the woman working the fishmonger with a yellow bandanna tied over her chestnut hair while leaning against the counter. Gaff and Shal’tokon separated at the elevating fork that led either to the upper tiers, where the taller buildings clung to solid earth versus the shacks at the lower level that took up deck space. Shal returned to his lodgings in a former fishing shack while Gaffaden walked up to the upper tiers to the Blackwater Company safehouse.
The Fourth War was now over and the armistice had come about between the great factions. Shal’tokon was in Booty Bay when he had gotten word after one or two escort and bodyguard jobs that the Blackwater Company was hiring capable people to fill out its ranks on both the Horde and Alliance. Shal’tokon was aware of Blackwater by its Alliance reputation only. The Company was Human controlled and its power base was out of Boralus and several small islands that lay off Baradin Bay. They were successful, but Alliance centric with little footing in the Horde market.
The liaison for a Blackwater recruitment meeting in Booty Bay was a Gnome who had a table at Booty Bay’s Salty Sailor tavern, second floor, against the railing that overlooked the common room and was a few steps short of the third floor stairwell that led to the Captain’s Hull of the tavern. From the outside, the fore of the ship that had been hollowed out and wedged into the top of the tavern was visible. It was the off-hours, Baron Revilgaz’s direct crew and his select Bruisers, the Black Shirts, had the day off which left the stairs open. It wouldn’t matter if anyone penetrated the Captain’s Hull, the Baron was either in his office at the Booty Bay Port Authority, or enjoying his beachside villa with a platoon of guards and a bevy of Goblin women to do his nails and feet.
Gaffaden had ordered a pitcher of grog to share between them, “So, why are you interested in joining Blackwater?” Gaffaden was fair skinned despite living several years on the Bay. The paleness of Khaz Modan was difficult to shave off, no matter how much time Gaff spent under the Stranglethorn sun. He had dark hair with a natural cut and green eyes that were flecked with gold. His mustache was neatly trimmed neat.
“Money enough o’ a motivation, boss?” Shal asked, his common accent in the Troll dialect. Male or female, he casually referred to those with any stature as Boss.
“It is, but we do appreciate a sense of dedication from our crew members. You from Stranglethorn?”
Shal shook his head slowly, he had to check his tone before answering: “I’m a Revantusk, boss. Forest Troll. I’m na anymore welcome ‘ere than you are by local trolls. Bad blood between tribes.”
“I’d say the Skullsplitters and Bloodscalps aren’t really friendly to anyone- Horde or Alliance alike, so you and I are in the same boat. What about relations around here in town?”
“I’m sure I gotta rep, what you hear about me since we last talked?” Shal asked.
“Your name is Sally Eyegouge, but you get that low look and-” Gaffaden tapered off when he heard the low, drawn out grunt that Shal’tokon had expressed at the tile, “You’re not a big fan of the name. On a positive note, you’ve also got a rep for being loyal to the contract, or at least being as loyal as possible. You’ve done Coin Guard work with a few independent operators and small groups. You know how to ride a raptor and you’re known to be capable with guns and bows along with various melee weapons. Your name comes from you using your very tusks in combat. That a common thing for Trolls?”
“Na as common as ya might think. Tusk breaks are painful, an’ even impalin’ a man’s eyes is a good way ta get an injury. It was a move o’ desperation that got me tha nickname.”
“What made you desperate to use your tusks?”
“Tha Stromic was chagrin’ and I had run outta bullets,” Shal’tokon said.
Gaff nodded. He didn’t carry any files with him, any information that he had retained from his brief background research into the Troll was taken from memory after Gaff had asked around from several reliable sources who were in the information trade within Booty Bay. Gaff paid for the lunch and poured himself an extra cup of cherry grog, the two had almost killed the pitcher and Gaff was eager to ensure none of the drink went to waste on the Company’s silver.
“I heard you got another job tonight. A protection run with several merchants meeting a money lender. You know who you are up against?” Gaff asked, his green eyes studying Shal’tokon while his thumb nudged his chin. The Gnome was reading the Revantusk’s reaction.
“His name is Bullis ‘tha Bull’ Coinbender, he’s an independent moneylender, on fair terms wit’ tha Cartel.”
“He’s one of Gazrix’s agents before Bullis left The Fixer’s employ. You know his reputation? He’s known to have a bodycount of people who don’t pay their debts to them. Why do you think the merchant’s have brought you in?”
Shal’tokon grinned, showing his pointed canines, practically fangs that were a gift from the loa of bats, he said, “My winnin’ personality, boss. If I had ta wager on why I’ve been asked ta come, I’d say someone is nervous about tha meetin’ and wants ta walk out alive.”
“You’re willing to put your life on the line for the client?” Gaff asked.
“I’m there ta do a job, boss. I took half tha money, I’m gonna get tha rest by going through the night.” Shal’tokon rose from his seat and stretched out his back. Standing at his full height, eight feet tall, trolls were towering creatures who could stand above their Orcish allies and look a female Tauren in the face. They towered over Humans at full height, and especially towered over Gnomes. If the effect was an attempt to intimidate Gaffadan, the Gnome never reacted. Gaff had tagged and bagged creatures from across Azeroth while working as a bounty hunter. Gaff never read Shal’tokon’s movements as posturing, the Revantusk seemed too relaxed to try and play a game one upmanship with the Gnome, Shal’tokon rolled his shoulders and drew his long arms behind his back before settling in his hunched posture which allowed him to fit through doors. The effect seemed like murder on the spine, but Trolls could always revert to their full height with ease, their bodies regenerated any atrophied muscle of bones at an astounding rate compared to any other race short of the proud Zandalari.
“I admire that dedication to the contract, the Company admires that same attitude. I’d offer to help, but I think any Goblin would be foolish to try anything with you watching.”
“We shall see, boss,” Shal’tokon said casually, “We shall see.”
The two agreed to meet after Shal’tokon had fulfilled his obligations to the mercantile client that had approached them. The two had walked outside the Salty Sailor, passing by a pair of Goblin Bruisers on patrol and carrying out their duties of sipping pints while speaking with an Orc fisherman who was mending his nets while cursing a storm as green calloused hands fumbled to entangled lines. The only Human, there were one or two living in the city, was the woman working the fishmonger with a yellow bandanna tied over her chestnut hair while leaning against the counter. Gaff and Shal’tokon separated at the elevating fork that led either to the upper tiers, where the taller buildings clung to solid earth versus the shacks at the lower level that took up deck space. Shal returned to his lodgings in a former fishing shack while Gaffaden walked up to the upper tiers to the Blackwater Company safehouse.
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