Running a Legal Business

(( Hello my little neglected blog, what's up? I've got a little RP to post in you, and by a little, I mean a lot. For the past few weeks I've been working on my pirate's RP and it's finally done. I was considering posting it piece by piece, but almost everyone has seen it piece by piece in other blogs, so here's the story in its entirety, co-written by Skulley. ))

Two large fishing nets, cranes, plenty of line and rope, supplies; each of the crew helped with the loading of the ship. Lafoot kept inventory of everything that came onto the ship. This wasn't a large job, but it was policy. Lafoot always kept the books, among his many other jobs. He stood right inside the gang plank as various small crates were carried up by the rest of the crew. All but Xionn and Arioch seemed to be carrying supplies on board from Booty Bay's docks. Arioch was high up on the rigging and Xionn wasn't above deck, but in the quarters down below.

"Dooooon't drop that ya swabs! That's some fine cargo you're carryin' there!" Lafoot made a very dramatic show as Jerijah nearly tripped and dropped a crate.

"Shove it up your arse, Lafoot." Alejandra was right behind her brother, carrying another crate. She had responded before Jerijah himself could.

"You can shove it up my arse, sweetcheeks." He gave her a winning grin. She just scowled back at him and aimed some spit at his feet.

"S'whadda fook is da cap'en doin' ey?" Hawkeye was right behind the two, he was lanky and easily carried a crate under each arm.

"Briefin' the new girl on policies and shat." Jerijah piped up, having set his crate down. "Y'know, all the good shat about what we do. Takin' ol' Mustardbeard's position she is. Buildin' a fancy mess hall below deck 'n everythin'."

Alejandra snorted, "Hope new girl isn't in over her head. This ain't no place fer bonny lasses."

---

"Everyone pitches in Skulley, we got a job ta do. Until we get ta the salvage operation, yer job is just as it is in the contract, cookin' an' takin' care o supplies. On th' job, y'do what y'kin. Cuttin' throats, takin' orders, gettin' yer hands dirty 'r yer clothes salty. Ain't goin' ta ask ye ta do anythin' outlandish, but if I give ya an order, y'does it on the spot." Xionn took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling. He was sitting in a chair bolted to the floor in front of the desk. It was bolted off center and turned sideways so he could kick his feet up on his own desk, rather than make any practical use out of it. "This's a salvage job, ain't nothin' big, but yer goin' ta be helpin' us haul shat outta the water. Lafoot and Alejandra be cataloguing it on board as it comes aboard, you'n Jerijah 'n Arioch down below. 'm helpin' Hawkeye bring it all aboard."

"A'right." Skulley paused and slid one of her own cigarettes out of the slim silver case in her hand, lifting it deliberately to her glossy purple lips. (No one ever caught her applying lipstick. One merely assumed she did it on the sly with a tube of paint hidden somewhere on her person. Same went for the thick coal-black liner around her eyes, though it was anyone's guess how she kept it from smudging in the heat and humidity.) She had no tricks or sleight of hand today; simply lighting up with a flick of one bony wrist, she took two puffs in silence. "All that's well enough. I know how t'be useful, y'already know it. For my part I expect the crew'll keep outta my galley 'less they got pressin' reason t'be in it."

His eyes studied Skulley's face to see if she was serious. She was. "I'll mention it t'the crew." He blew more smoke in her direction. "They's used ta havin the runna the ship. Y'seen the crew's quarters." He was referring to the room with hammocks hanging along the walls. "It ain't a big boat t'be picky about space. Hit the big load an' we kin buy a luxury cruisa fer these jobs." He stood up, tying a black headband around his forehead, pushing his hair back. He threw one just like it to Skulley. "Keep th' sweat an' drippin water outta yer eyes."

She caught it lazily, a gesture like an afterthought, and refolded the cloth into a large triangle, tying it around her head and tucking in the loose sides. It swept the dark wings of hair back from her cheeks and made her face look even thinner. He could see how she might've earned her nickname for a brief moment, then she tipped her head forward to twist her ponytail into a massive knot and produced a dozen pins from nowhere to hold it up. "I'll be wearin' a mask too, 'less y'object. An' I've got reasons for the wankers t'stay outta my cupboards, after the state they was in. Rats an' boots. I intend ta run a respectable kitchen an' if the crew's hungry they'll learn ta ask me or be stuck eatin' naught but beets fer th'duration. Shittin' red fer a week'll teach 'em."

Xionn couldn't help but give that mental image a laugh. "Right, headin' up then, donna try ta pocket anythin', 's all bolted. Har."

Skulley just snorted as she ducked into the tiny cubbyhole of a kitchen and pulled a thick leather apron over her head, mindful of the lit cigarette dangling from her lips. "Not plannin' ta steal from ya. Y'know what they say, cap'n. 'Don't shit where y'eat'." She poked her head out from behind the cupboards and grinned at him. "Ain't shite t'steal anyway."

---

The last hint of the sun disappeared in the West just as they lost sight of Booty Bay to the East. The Guppy was the registered name of their ship for this job. They were to sail overnight and park around the corner of an island for the job the next day. Xionn had made the crew pick straws for their respective watches. However he was still awake while much of the crew had retreated to their quarters. It was Alejandra's watch first. Everyone wanted either the first or last watch, it meant they wouldn't have to get up in the middle of the night. The new girl was assigned to breakfast duty so she was free of watch duty.

Xionn pursed his lips, hanging over the side of the stern of the ship. He'd tied the wheel of the ship so it wouldn't move. Alejandra would let him know if they were coming up on anything in the water. He exhaled wisps of smoke, looking out over the darkened sea. A familiar voice spoke up beside him, just loud enough to be heard over the wash of the waves.

"Last call fer chow. 'Bout t'close up." She leaned over the stern beside him, looking at the horizon while she breathed in spiced smoke and salty air, a respite from the dank below decks.

A single lamp hanging nearby illuminated Xionn and Skulley from behind. He didn't look at her directly. " 'm not hungry." He took a long drag from his cigarette then tossed it over the side. "Expectin' a farkin good breakfast though."

"Eggs 'n sausages. Dunno if y'like watermelon but it's on th'menu." The winds were soft this far south, and they toyed with the wisps of smoke that curled up from the cigarette wedged between her knuckles. "How long y'expect it'll be before shite hits the fan, then?"

"If we do everythin' right, shouldna be nothin' hittin th' fan." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Y'know how t'use a divin' helmet?"

"Don' need one. Have a bottle a' some fish scale extract bullshite." She turned her head to look at him and exhaled a cloud of smoke into his eyes.

"Masks traditional way ta go, filled with danger if'n it don' work." He turned about, the lamp now illuminating his face. He smirked around a new cigarette. "Guess'm stuck on tradition. ... Shouldna ye be in yer bunk?"

"Not tired. Don' sleep much before a job. You?"

He took the cigarette out from between his lips and spit over the side. He looked up into the rigging where Alejandra hung, looking the other way. She wasn't watching them, but she was most certainly listening in. "Just t'night." His eyes stayed on Alejandra.

"With all due respect captain, quit staring at me ass."

"S'farkin' creepy, Alej. An' yer arse ain't shite ta look at."

Alejandra gave a subtle smirk and a snort. Their exchange wasn't without humor. Skulley didn't seem to notice. Then again, she probably did. "Don't lose your wits, new girl."

Skulley looked up over her shoulder at the girl suspended in the network of ropes. "Reckon I'll manage. Guess we'll see."

"Oi ye tw', s'a salvage job, cut it down. Only thing tha' could go wrong 's equipment failure." He placated. "Alej, make sure ye wake Lafoot fer his shift, imagine he'll be more'n happy t'sleep through it if he ain't woken up."

"That's a given by now." Alejandra still hung from the same place in the rigging.

"I'm thinkin' I may 'ead down t'sleep meself." Xionn kicked himself off the railing, starting down the steps towards the main deck.

Skulley flicked the stub of her cigarette out into the water and turned on her heel. She called up to Alejandra as she ducked into the cabin. "There's a screw-top fulla coffee tied t'the sink, if y'need it."

---

Sprawled in her hammock, she kicked her leg restlessly over the side and rolled one cigarette after another. They lay in a tidy pile in the hollow of her belly, and she was fast running out of papers to keep rolling. There was nothing much left to ease nervous tension past this point. That was all right. She simply swayed with the softly rocking motion of the boat and stared into the darkness, waiting.

Xionn sat in his chair, boots kicked up on his desk. In his lap were old ship's logs. It would be a long night.

---

When someone happens upon a piece of vital information that could save lives, they can do one of two things. They can either report it to the proper people and save those lives, or sell it to someone else for profit. A horde supply ship filled with otherwise unknown goods is scheduled to make its voyage from Steamwheedle Port to Orgrimmar, keeping its distance from the shoreline. An SI:7 agent discovered the port orders for this unguarded supply ship and the Stormwind Navy is scheduled to send an unmarked attack ship to sink it and make a quick escape afterwards. This information is quite valuable to someone with a salvage ship, which is why our captain now has his hands on it. The informant however did not get to keep his money for too long after being drugged and cleaned out by a wench who bought him a drink. The moral of the story? Don't accept drinks from strange women in Booty Bay if you're carrying enough gold to weigh your pants down.

"An' tha's where we step in mates. In a coupl'a hours we'll hear gunshots 'n cannons 'round th'other side'a the isle. We wait a few minute 'n move in, scoop up what we can outta the water 'n make our getaway with the goods. Take what y'kin, leave weapon an' armor crates. Kinna sell Horde weapons t'alliance an' the Horde will jes' know s'stolen. If'n there ain't nothin' else useful take th' weapons 'n armor, kin at least melt it down if this salvage s'a wash, although a secret supply ship's bound ta have somethin' of import on't. Any questions?"

The crew all sat around a small table, crammed in near each other, plates of breakfast food in front of them. This was an easy job for the rest of the crew. Skulley leaned against a wall, wisps of smoke coming from the end of her cigarette. Arioch was already eating, even though he wasn't supposed to be, and Lafoot was looking hungrily at his plate when his stomach suddenly growled loudly.

"Hearing nothin' but Lafoot's gut, dig in crew, y'got a long day ahead o'ye."

Arioch took his food and left, everyone else started digging in, except Alejandra who went to Xionn and whispered something to him.

"Right, fer Skulley and any mate who fergot. Fer this t'be a legal salvage job, there are no survivors. Savvy?"

There were affirmitive sounds from food stuffed mouths around the table. Skulley merely nodded from her post against the wall, apparently content with a cup of coffee and a cigarette for her breakfast. She was dressed for work, having shed the heavy apron that protected her skin and clothes from boiling water sloshed by the motion of the waves; a curious skin-tight suit of dark leather clung to her slim body, paired with light boots and the kerchief on her head. A leather mask sat bunched around her neck, ready to be pulled up at a moment's notice. She seemed to be extremely interested in the contents of her cup.

Jerijah was suddenly in front of Skulley, waving his hand directly under her face. " 'ey, since ol' Arioch is workin' on puttin' things in the crane, we get to decide which of us is divin' and which one is workin' the surface."

"She's already got them new fancy fish potions, Jer." Xionn shoved some more food in his mouth, he wasn't the least bit polite about eating.

Skulley stared for a moment at the excitable little man flapping his hand mere inches from the cigarette in her mouth. Then her long white fingers were curled around his wrist, yanking them down to her side and pulling Jerijah's face in close to hers. At this angle she had to look down to make eye contact. "Watch y'self, love. Won't do to waste yer energy an' mine."

Up close Jerijah didn't smell too bad, in fact there were remnants of a spiced cologne on his skin. He smirked as he was pulled in near, twisting his wrists in her grasp, "Oi love, if you're goin' ta get frisky at least save it for later aye?" Alejandra deliberately ignored her brother, Lafoot of course deliberately followed every detail of the exchange.

"I'll do the divin'. Y'look like ye'd float." Skulley leaned forward and whispered in Jerijah's ear, eliciting an embarrassed chuckle from the admittedly pudgy man, then released his hand with a tight smile and blew out a stream of smoke from her pursed lips as she settled back into her deceptively relaxed position against the wall.

Xionn finished his breakfast, leaving dirty dishes on the table as he stood up. "Sometime in the next few hours mates, be up on deck'n thirty an'prepare t'watch some fireworks." Xionn paused at the door, "An' remember mates, only dirteh stinkin pirates say yarrrrr. Harrr harr har!"

There was a resounding "Harrr" from those remaining in the room.

---

The crescendo of canon fire echoed into the little cove they were hiding in. Neither ship could have seen them unless they were specifically looking for them. The setup was almost too convenient for Xionn's liking, a little danger was always preferable to a clean job, at least in his mind. Arioch and Hawkeye were on opposite ends of the mast, ready to release the sail. The sounds of gunshots stopped, ringing fresh in their ears, and then came the cries of men that were previously drowned out by cannon fire. The echoes of rifles came next. Each crew member of "The Guppy" seemed rather complacent to all this, more ready to jump at the call of orders than to anyone's rescue. The shouting quieted and the gunshots stopped, the quiet after the slaughter. Some time after there were shouts of orders and not long was it before the attacking ship set its course east, passing into view of the cove. They either didn't see the hiding ship or didn't care, most likely the latter as sea vultures weren't a rare occurrence.

"Y'know th'drill mates." Xionn half shouted lazily.

"That an order 'r a statement'a fact, captain?" Jerijah piped back at him from the lower deck.

"S'both, m'feelin' lazy t'day."

Arioch and Hawkeye both gave each other a look, then each jumped off the mast, pulling the sail down on either side, free falling before swinging around and tying it off. Alejandra unrolled the scroll she'd had tucked under her arm and chanted the spell on it. A simple and weak spell that put just enough breeze behind the sail to push them out of the cove. The ship lurched forward and tipped a bit as Xionn flung the wheel around, making a sharp turn - for a ship - out of the cove.

Skulley ducked out of the cabin, uncorking a small vial of silver liquid and tipping it down her throat. It wasn't a terribly pleasant elixir, downright fishy to be truthful, but it would buy her up to an hour of underwater breathing without a mask. She didn't grimace, simply pulled her heavy mask up over her nose and chin and buckled herself into a harness of her own making. It hugged her torso, a spring-loaded hook hanging from the thick-gauge thorium ring sewn into the strap that crossed her ribcage. The hook was braided into a stout length of rope that she uncoiled from her arm and passed to Hawkeye. "Tie that off to yer towrope. Pull me up for goods or if shite goes bad; one yank fer safe an' two t'scuttle." She thumbed open the hook on her chest to demonstrate, then bellied up to the stern and looked down at the water. They were beginning to reach the wake of debris from the wrecked ship. A handful of survivors clung to bits of floating wreckage just ahead.

Xionn brought the ship into the midst of the wreckage, the other members of the crew working the sails and bringing the ship to a slow pace. He called for the anchor to be thrown down just as they were entering the wreckage; he was taking them right into the middle of it all. The ship lurched to a stop just as fast as it had started right as they were about to bump one of the larger remains of the supply ship. "Aaaaaalright crew, y'know yer respective jobs, git to it!" He shouted from the upper deck.

The morning sea breeze was giving way to midday winds. They pushed the ship around despite the sails being closed, but the two anchors on opposite ends of the ship kept it mostly stationary.

Some of the survivors that still clung to life realized now that there was a ship there, possibly their salvation? Some began weakly calling out for help. Jerijah started down a rope ladder into the water. He probably would have just taken a dive in if not for all the debris. Hawkeye went to his crane and rotated it around, lowering the fishing net near to the water where it looked like many supply crates still remained afloat. Arioch followed Jerijah, and Lafoot pulled out a battered looking writing board with some crudely made paper on it. In the middle of the lower deck was a grate, beneath it one could see the lower storage decks of the ship. Alejandra opened this grate and lithely jumped down inside, easily a twenty foot drop.

Xionn threw on a rather fancy looking hat and stood around Hawkeye's crane. Skulley snorted at him as she climbed down the ladder, eyes laughing even though her mask covered her grin. Then she was out of sight and in the water, a darting shape just under the surface. A survivor grabbed at her arm as she passed and she pulled him under with her, easily maneuvering the thrashing orc in the weightless sea, holding his head in the crook of her arm as she slit his throat. The water bloomed scarlet above her and the body sank. She continued below, ducking a large portion of the mast and the bodies of a pair of tauren tangled in the rigging on her way into the ship's sunken cabin.

The rutters were first to go into the fine mesh bag she wore over one bony shoulder, pulled from the locked box she found under a pile of debris wedged in the now-tilted corner of the captain's quarters. It also contained a fair supply of gold pieces and a pouch of thistle. A fel elf had been running operations then, most likely. She put the coins into her bag as well and picked the lock on a large lower drawer of the desk that dominated the upmost side of the room, bolted both to the wall and floor. Several tugs pulled it loose, releasing a cloud of air bubbles. A locked document case lay on top of everything, and she removed it first, tucking it away for perusal later. Beneath it was a jumble of items of dubious value, including a jeweled dagger in a fine leather scabbard. She deemed it fine enough and into the bag it went; the rest looked like so much junk.

The hold was a mess. Crates were heaped and scattered everywhere, some bobbing in the water and threatening to crack her skull should she be careless moving among them. Some had smashed open with the impact of cannonfire and the contents littered the steeply angled floor, mostly worthless plate and chainmail, although the contents of a weapons crate appeared to be sown among the rest like pikes, wicked points ready to impale the reckless. She pulled a crowbar from her back and pried open the nearest crate that didn't bear a large armaments stamp. She stared in disbelief at the sacks labeled "RAZORFEN GUANO" inside. The next crate was slightly more promising. It contained row upon row of colored inks, most likely products of Kalimdor herbs, and in a large enough supply to stock a small scribe shop. She pounded the nails back into the lid and knotted a pair of leather straps tightly around it, unhooking her towrope and clipping it to a ring sewn into the straps.

The rope coiled at her feet as she pulled it through the water, two dozen feet until it was taut. She yanked once and it began to retract, gradually reeling in the slack length of rope and finally tugging the crate out of the shattered hull. She helped guide it up to the surface and followed it to the ship, paddling with just her eyes above water while she waited for Hawkeye to haul it up and toss her hook back down.

Jerijah had done his own share of throat slitting. A few desperate souls tried to swim away from the wreckage and their life-saving pieces of flotsam, but their injuries only enabled him to easily catch up with and dispatch them. He was pushing floating supplies towards Hawkeye's net. Anything floating was worth its weight to sell. When the fishing net would fill with crates, Hawkeye would pull them up and Xionn would help guide the crane to put the cargo in the hold, where Alejandra and Lafoot were taking inventory.

One of the bodies clinging to floatsam began to wail for help. "Oi, shut 'im up Jerijah, s'gratin' me nerves," Xionn called down to him below. He scanned the wreckage for the source of the wailing, and saw a blood elf clinging to a floating piece of mast. "No... bring 'im up on deck. I'll deal with him proper up 'ere." Jerijah looked a little displeased to be expending energy to bring someone on board, but he didn't argue, helping bring the blood elf over into the large fishing net. Skulley watched for a moment, bobbing just above the surface, then swam over to help load the man into the net. He was favoring a broken arm, and he screamed when she touched it pushing him up onto a crate.

"You [i]bitch[/i]!" He spoke in orcish, but his meaning was plenty clear as he let loose a stream of expletives, berating the masked woman for her carelessness. Skulley simply stared at him as Hawkeye cranked the net up out of the water with them in it.

They pulled the blood elf on board, along with the few crates they'd also put in the net. Xionn paced over to the net, stopping right in front of the coughing blood elf who was clutching his sides. Arioch and Jerijah, who had both pulled themselves temporarily out of the water each grabbed an arm and hefted the blood elf up. "Sounds like the Captain has a bit of a speech for you. Damn fel elf." He spit in the blood elf's face.

Xionn sized the blood elf up, then began speaking in Darnassian. "Are you awake enough to hear me, fel elf?" Darnassian and Thalassian come from the same roots, and much of the two languages are still the same. There are some nuances that developed from the separation of cultures, but the roots of words and at least some phrases between the two are understandable. Meanwhile, Skulley hauled herself onboard and took the opportunity to produce a miraculously dry cigarette out of thin air and light it, the smoke dulling most of the remaining fishy elixir taste. She smoked quickly, pulling inches' worth of the smoldering tobacco into her lungs as she watched the wet and gasping elf attempt to square off with her boss. Arioch and Jerijah held the other elf while Xionn spoke.

"You see, we used to spare unfortunate sailors of attacked ships that we were salvaging. Sometimes we'd even feel bad for the poor souls and give them help." Xionn pulled a fresh cigarette out, lighting it and blowing a wisp of smoke into the gentle breeze. The other elf's face was crossed with a mixture of hope, fear, and loathing. "But the Horde and Alliance, being locked in their eternal all important struggle against each other, felt the need to implement laws about -their- goods being vultured. Most of the laws they implemented never worked. The floatsam law for instance, nothing above the waves in controlled seas were fair game." He laughed, it was a cruel laugh. "But there were so many loopholes in that law, looked like alterac swiss. It didn't help them keep much of their goods at all. Then they came up with this brilliant new law to try and trip up the cartel. You see, for a law to go through about the high seas, whatever faction is trying to pass the law must run it by the cartel. You following me so far fel-for-brains?"

The blood elf scowled. "Are you going to let me go or not?"

Xionn ignored his question. "Now naturally, the Cartel is going to look out for its own, but it's going to want to keep everyone happy for profit. Of course the Cartel isn't going to allow any laws that prohibit vulturing to pass. We keep the seas clean and free of pollution after all! But the Horde and Alliance, they do try. The latest silly law is that all floatsam from wreckage belongs to survivors of the crew, so the Horde can extort those belongings from them after they've recovered the survivors." Xionn turned around, his hands clasped behind his back.

The rest of the crew looked on, all the veterans well aware of what was coming.

"I won't speak a word, just let me go," his voice cracked, possibly from injury, exhaustion or pleading fear. Perhaps all three.

"Well see lad, if'n I let ye go, th'Horde'll find ye, know what supply ship y'worked for, and come demandin' their booty. We kinna have that." He was speaking in common again, the blood elf completely oblivious to what he was saying. He went and picked up a very large, notched axe from its resting place against the ship's cabin.

"No please, anything you want..." The blood elf broke down into cries and sobs, jerking at the two captors holding his arms. Skulley quirked an eyebrow and tossed the remains of her cigarette overboard, crossing her arms over her chest and watching the captive shriek, her face emotionless.

Xionn turned about in place, pointing the blade of the axe at the blood elf. "May Neptulon guide ye inta th' afterlife, saila." He brought the axe down, the point just barely skimming over the deck of the ship. He took several steps forward, like a batter getting a running start before taking a swing. Jerijah and Arioch both sidestepped, releasing the sailor just in time for Xionn's axe to swing up and sever his head from his shoulders. The head, by the sheer force of the blow, went flying over the edge of the ship, and the body slumped, partially falling in the direction of the axe's blow, blood spraying up onto the captain's clothes. There was a grim look of sadistic satisfaction on his face. He set the axe down, looking to the crew. "There are no survivors."

"Right." Skulley straightened up and pulled her mask up over her mouth and nose. It muffled her voice, but the meaning came through clear enough. "Remind me never t'piss ya off, boss." Then she took her hook back from Hawkeye and hopped over the side of the boat into the cool water below. There were plenty more crates left to look through.

---

They were nearly finished salvaging all that they wanted. Lafoot and Alejandra were busy below deck piling freshly salvaged (if slightly damp) goods and taking inventory. Xionn had since scrubbed most of the blood off (although there was some traces of it left on his skin) and changed shirts.

"Start packin' up crew, feel like we've ovastayed our welcome as i'tis."

Skulley leaned against the bow, a cigarette poised just over the mask she'd pulled down to her chin. The late afternoon sun reflected mercilessly off the rippling water, and she squinted at the horizon for a moment before she called out across the deck. "Boss. Believe we've got company."

"Mate Skulley, what color does our company fly?" Xionn was already pulling out his spyglass. "And if'n yer goin' ta call company, gimme a direction. Starboard, port, bow and stern. Ain't fuckin' hard."

"Horde, off the bow, boss." Skulley spit into the ocean and flicked her half-smoked cigarette in after it, pulling her mask up high over her face. Now only her eyes were visible.

Xionn was very intrigued by the sudden use of the mask, but went to the bow of the ship. There were more important things to attend to than his curiosities. He used his spyglass to look at the oncoming ship. Sure enough they flew the red flag with the Horde's symbol on it. His teeth ground audibly together.

A deadly pair of daggers concealed somewhere on her person were revealed briefly, and Skulley swabbed a viscous yellow fluid over the keen edges, made them disappear, and grabbed a bucket of watery bleach from below decks. A stiff brush made quick work of the remaining bloodstains on the darkly-stained wood where the elven captain had fallen, and while she scrubbed, she spoke. "Awaitin' orders, boss."

"Good idea, Mate Skulley. Crew, keep at what yer doin', grab a few weapon crates if need be. Even 'f it d'lays our arrival 'n th'bay." He took off his Captain's hat and handed it to Hawkeye. "Lafoot, y'got papers?"

"Aye!" Lafoot ran down the deck below, returning with several sheets of crude paper. All of them had a Horde seal stamped on them.

"I'll be damned if I didn't figure on th'possibility." In truth, Xionn hadn't expected anyone to show up, but always planned for likely situations. They were far enough off Ratchet that the Goblins might have heard the gunfire of the raiding ship, but they wouldn't have hurried a messenger to Orgrimmar unless they thought it would profit them. Goblins weren't known to do anything unless it involved money for their time. They'd only been a couple of hours pulling stuff out of the water, and he'd given it at least three hours for the news to reach the Horde.

The ship was small, but it looked like it had enough cannons to defend - or attack - as necessary. "The Guppy" wasn't completely unarmed. The cannons below deck were covered and hidden, but it would take a bit to ready them.

"Should we make ready for a fight?" Jerijah looked to Xionn.

"Nay, get ready t'do what y'do best crew. Bullshit."

"If Mustaadbeard was here ee'd be breakin out da brass knuckles 'n cannons." Hawkeye was adjusting the hat on his head. It didn't fit him well.

"Mustardbeard ain't here, 'n this ain't no ship'a bandits lookin' ta steal our salvage that we kin beat th'shit outta. This's Horde. Savvy?"

Skulley worked fast, cleaning blood out of the brush and slopping the bloody water over the stern. Stowing them below decks, she went back up the stairs three at a time and helped Hawkeye pull up a few more flooded weapon and armor crates from the surface. Jerijah helped her stack them in plain sight, mostly covering the bleached spot and making a conspicuous cover that could possibly serve as a minor barricade if things went south.

"Looks about ten minutes off crew, get ready t'extend our friendly plank."

---

Hawkeye was all set up and looking like the official captain of the ship, everyone was set about doing menial tasks. Arioch's height made him the next likely candidate to operate the crane that Hawkeye had built for his proportions. Lafoot and Alejandra were still taking inventory. Skulley slowed to a more methodical pace, moving crates from Arioch's post at the crane over to the pile mid-deck, then returning to help him untangle bits of stray flotsam from the nets. Everyone looked about as nonchalant (and bored) as any government contractor might, treating the affair as a matter of pen, ink and labor, rather than a tragedy of life lost and routine disrupted. The other ship was along side them before long and throwing hitch ropes over. The crew obliged, tied the two ships together and extended a gang plank.

"Look alive ye swabs." It was hard to tell if Hawkeye was just acting or genuinely enjoying berating the rest of the crew in front of the other ship's crew. Skulley shot him a dirty look, mostly for show. She'd certainly been working harder before, and now it was all she could do to keep it to a slow and steady pace. She kept her eyes lowered and her mask on as she plucked chunks of splintered wood and kelp from the net and chucked them into the water.

The captain, a rather muscled looking orc, came over the gankplank with two other men, a goblin and a blood elf. Arioch was suddenly nowhere to be seen, probably a good thing, given his previous distaste for fel elves. "Motley crew you have here captain."

"Welcome t'the Guppy mate, we be a friendly fishin' boat commissioned t'be cleanin' up da waters of floatin' wreckage. What honorable captain be in me presence?"

"Gonrah Greenfist." The orc captain looked around at the other crew members. "This don't look like a horde ship," he twisted his face at Hawkeye. Hawkeye was the only one that could pass as a Horde. They spoke to each other in Orcish.

"I assure you, captain, dis be a perfectly sanctioned operation." "Lafoot!" he called out in common. "Show 'im de papers."

Lafoot procured the papers he'd prepped before their departure. They bore the insignia of the Horde as well as a bunch of scrawl that none but probably Hawkeye and Lafoot could read. Captain Greenfist looked over them, rubbing his chin. He tried to not make it too obvious that he wasn't well versed in the various point of Horde law that were scrawled on the paper. "I haven't heard of no Guppy, Captain Hawkeye. But your papers seem to pass. We were sent out here to investigate the raided ship and recover any survivors and its supplies." He passed the papers to the goblin, who began looking over them. "If I understand your papers correctly, then you were ordered to recover supplies as we were."

It was clear from the captain's voice that he was suspicious. Hawkeye kept face while the rest of the crew put a bit of extra effort into actually appearing busy. "Aye."

"And... there were no survivors?"

"Der was none." Hawkeye and the rest of the crew knew, as a general rule, not to offer up information that wasn't directly asked for, but there were certain times when it was appropriate. Like right now, for instance. "From da style of da cannonballs, seems da Alliance took em out."

The goblin scrutinized the papers. He was tall for his kind, came up to his orc captain's waist, even. Ugly fellow had a flat head and a pointed nose, no hair to speak of, a curious dent near his left temple and a series of titanium bars threaded through the holes in his long green ears. Xionn's gaze shifted from the goblin to the blood elf, and he realized that the blood elf had been staring at him, sizing him up. Before either of them could speak, Gobbo looked up from the impossible legal gibberish printed on Lafoot's crumpled paper and caught sight of the gaunt figure clad in snug, oiled black leather untangling nets off to port. "Oy! Skullz. Skullz!"

Every eye aboard the tiny ship was on her as Skulley's dark head swiveled toward the sound of the goblin's raspy voice. Her eyes, the only part of her face visible between the damp bandanna above and the mask below, were carefully expressionless. A barely perceptible tilt of the neck asked the question for her, and the goblin was more than happy to answer. "'Course ya don't remember a greeny tosser what took a chunk from yer own bottle a' rum, fine fookery that. I see how it is." He pointed to the two-inch dent in his bald green pate just above the scraggy ear where his piercings reflected the late afternoon sun. On closer inspection, one could see how the hollow spot might just line up with the bottom curve of a glass bottle. Skulley stared a long moment longer, then her eyes crinkled up at the corners and she laughed soundlessly, dropping her attention back down to the netting in her hands. Tensions immediately seemed to ease a bit, and the goblin grinned broadly.

"Remy fuckin' Bilgebottom." She was amused, you could hear that much through the tight leather mask over her mouth. Her orcish was impeccable. "Was a whiskey bottle, but I don't blame ya fer forgettin'."

"Teach a blaggart like me ta stiff me best piercer. All healed up nice-like, yarr. Head and ears, both. You should come back ta the Bay, lady, got some more business for ya when yer not slummin' it up on a dinky vessel like this."

Skulley waved a hand dismissively in Remy's direction, still chuckling silently as she tended to her work. The goblin turned to his boss and squinted his eyes against the sun. "Checks out, Cap'n. Looks like we wasted our fookin' time. If Skullz is in th'salvage business we may's well quit now." He tipped the woman a wink (she rolled her eyes at him; he only snickered) and turned on his heel, cramming the ship's papers into the orc's hand as he walked back over the plank.

The strained atmosphere was broken and the captain of the other ship seemed convinced, but the blood elf was still engaged in a mutual staredown with Xionn. Neither recognized the other, and their silent exchange could most likely be chalked up to a tremendous dislike for the other elven race.

The captain nudged the blood elf. "Theln, let's be off then." The blood elf snapped something out in Thalassian and there was a quick retort from Xionn in his own language. He spit at Xionn's feet, then turned and went across the gang plank with the captain. Xionn and Jerijah helped unhitch the larger boat from theirs, and soon the ship with its Horde colors was sailing back toward Booty Bay. Once it was a speck on the horizon, Skulley yanked the mask off her face and crammed a cigarette in her mouth, sucking down half of it in one enormous pull.

"Good job crew, props t'our mate Skulley fer bein' a goblin lover," Xionn grinned her way, arms crossed. "Now, we got what we came fer, let's get outta here."

"Fuckin' aye, boss." Skulley spit into the ocean, took a quick look at the setting sun and ducked into the cabin. "I'm makin' dinner. If ya need me fer anythin', go fuck yerself."

WoW Comic in 60 seconds

If you've been living under a rock or just not paying that much attention lately, WoW has a comic now. In places the writing is uh, pretty bad. But at times it can be pretty good. One thing is for certain though, Blizzard is using the comics (among other things) to advance the overall story of the world of Azeroth. Not everyone can or even wants to read these comics, however what's happening in them is changing the face of your character's world!

Not been keeping up with them? Don't want to spend the money, time, or even the will power to wade through 22 issues? Here's a quick 5 minute run down of the facts you need to know.

- King Varian Wrynn is back! As if you couldn't tell from him shouting in Stormwind. Issues 1-12 are pretty much all about The Missing Diplomat quest line and resolving it. Long story short, Onyxia had been controlling Varian for a long time, but eventually his will became too strong and started to override her magics, so she had him kidnapped. When she kidnapped him, she separated him into two separate beings, both identical in appearance (Twin Varians lol). One the strong and willful side, and the other the diplomatic and kind Varian, effectively splitting his personality. Onyxia attempted to use the Varian without his will to control Stormwind, but did not count on the willful Varian surviving the naga attack after he escaped from her own attempt to kill him. During the eventual fight with Onyxia, the two Varians fight side by side after Jaina figures out the mysterious secret behind the twin Varians. The noble and kind Varian jumps in front of a magic spell aimed at the willful Varian, and in doing so the two halves join again. Now with the strength of two men, Varian one-shots Onyxia and they hang her head in Stormwind for all to see.

- Thrall now has two advisers by his side, Rehgar Earthfury and Garrosh Hellscream. Rehgar is a shaman (and was once the owner of the arena team that Amnesia-Varian fought on) who wants Thrall to seek peace with the humans. Garrosh is the hot headed younger brother of Grom Hellscream, and is all too ready to trample every single alliance city given the chance. Thrall is in the middle of these issues, desiring peace, but also realizing the importance of a leader of the horde being both strong and aggressive.

- Aegwynn, as well as Meryl Winterstorm, a member of the Original Council of Tirisfal, are still around. They are restarting the Council of Tirisfal with Jaina and will be asking Thrall, Khadgar, a Paladin, and a Druid of some sort to join them as well. They wanted to ask Broll, but Broll disappeared several issues ago to go take care of "problems" in Darnassus. These problems have not been expanded upon in the comic since, but probably will be. The rumor mill suggests that Malfurion will come back and serve on the council, but again that is the rumor mill.

- Meryl Winterstorm has been watching over Garona and Medivh's son, Med'an. Yes, this makes Med'an quarter draenei, quarter orc, half human. He also is incredibly adept at arcane magic, nature magic, and light magic, as well as an incredibly skilled fighter, making him a Mage Paladin Shaman Warrior. No, I'm not even kidding. He was introduced to the story when a certain undead mage (who dies three issues later) finds a scroll that prophecizes that whoever controls Med'an controls the fate of all of Azeroth.

- Cho'Gall, the ogre mage, has reformed the Twilight's Hammer and is now in the process of resurrecting C'thun. Judging by the fact that with every issue Cho'Gall is looking more and more like C'thun, this is most likely happening through Cho'Gall himself, but is also just speculation on my part. Cho'Gall is very interested in the prophecy of Med'an, and of course wants Med'an for his master, C'thun.

- The Alliance and the horde tried to hold a summit to discuss peaceful trade, and begin steps towards peace between the two factions. This went awry when a band of assassins, led by Garona (under the influence of Cho'Gall) attempt to assassinate both leaders, and both sides end up blaming each other, with Anduin Wrynn being the only one who seems to realize that these assassins were sent by a third party to try and disrupt peace negotiations. In the confusion, Med'an (who has flown all the way from Eastern Kingdoms in search of his lost mother) is captured by this band of Twilight Hammer assassins and taken back to Ahn'Qiraj. Through the efforts of Valeera Sanguinar and Meryl Winterstorm he is rescued, and is now training in the ways of the light under Maraad who is Garona's uncle and thus Med'an's great uncle.


That's about all you need to know for now. If you want a more in-depth write up of each individual issue, Lorecrafted has an entry for each one, just search their page for "comic" and you can find them easily. If some of the names in my write up are unfamiliar to you, you can check them out at www.wowwiki.com.

To honor one's parents

A short little post with the idea from the Feathermoon Forums.

"Hey, I know I don't visit often as I should, Mom, Dad. It's been difficult lately. Troubles in the north, and I've got a kid now! Khallar. He's a handful sometimes, but Seylon takes care of him. I told you about Seylon. The sentinel. Kind of a mess when I found her but she was just my type. Independent, strong. We work well together. And we have lots of fun. My work with the Circle got me enough to get us this nice cabin up in the Grizzly Hills. Very nice place, and I love the pine forests. It's not like the small farm we had back home, not at all."

"Yeah, I know it's dangerous up North, but the hills tend to be safe. The most dangerous things there are marauding worgen sometimes and we're plenty safe against them. Wards set up. But yeah Khallar, he's a handful. Energetic. Going to be a druid like me. We're getting him started on training soon, much younger than I was. He's blind, but can see into the Dream. We think he has great potential. Some of the Riders have kids now too."

"Threnn and Bricu, they have a girl. Fells is probably having one soon too. We're thinking they can all play together." Aleros's gaze went to the bundle of flowers in his hands.

"I'm having troubles with nightmares. Have for a long time. Told you that. Comes with the job now it seems. Looking at getting it fixed. I've started helping others with their dreams as well. There was recently this incident up at Wrathgate. The traitor prince, he was there. The alliance were camped on the field outside of his citadel and they called him out. He wasn't the one that did terrible things though. The Forsaken, they wanted revenge so they launched this super plague. Killed indiscriminately. You'd think people had enough bad dreams about war and violence and trauma but... you see some of the things they dream about after seeing that, and it just makes you wonder sometimes. You guys only ever saw the Cataclysm."

"Seems the world can't be at peace, only ever fights. All I want to do is nap in the sun, but it seems there's always someone that has a problem with somebody else. And I get caught up in it. Keeps things interesting but... just napping in the sun. That's what I really want to do. You'd probably be ashamed of me for being so lazy... huh?"

He looked at the flowers again, hesitantly. They dropped onto the wet sand before a wave licked up on the beach and over his feet. He sat down and watched as the receding waves slowly carried them out to sea. He brought a hand to his face and wiped away the sea spray beneath his eyes.

Another Music Video

Today's feature, Warrior vs Paladin!

The Dream Doctor

We all know what happened at the Wrathgate... but what comes after?

He felt groggy. No, more than just groggy. He couldn't move most of his body other than minor twitches. He felt weak, barely able to even open his eyes. The ceiling was a blurr, dark at first, but as his eyes adjusted he could see the dark patterning. Skulls and other bones carved into the stone... wait, weren't those just bones?

"Good, you're awake."

He suddenly felt strength in his limbs. The voice was unfamiliar, and the movement that suddenly came to his body wasn't his own doing. He sat up, seeing the other bodies around them. They all seemed to be sleeping, some of them in more comfortable positions than others... Maybe they weren't all asleep. His body continued to move and came to a stand, forcing him to look at the fully armored knight in front of him. "Your master awaits you."

His legs took him around the edge of the dark rotunda. All around him there was death. Undead abomination constructs carried body parts or whole bodies to and from piles. Skeletons rushed about performing menial tasks. Knights in armor and runed swords sparred in the center of the rotunda. Fear overcame him as he suddenly realized where, or rather to whom his legs were taking him.

"Another knight to serve my army." The Lich King laughed. "Seek out Instructor Razvius for your training, I haven't sent any new recruits his way in some time."

He couldn't resist the movements of his own body. It was not his to control, only his consciousness, but even now he began to hear the whispers inside his head from the traitor prince.

Razuvius gave him a sword and a suit of armor much like the others he saw. He went through the training just as they did. He felt helpless, powerless. He suddenly felt a sense of deja vu, as if he'd done this before. That didn't make it any less terrifying.

Your first task, the whispers came to him, Is to carry out my will without question.

He was suddenly in front of a house in the middle of a barren land. His house. The world around him became very dreamlike and surreal. The door to his house opened. His wife was there at his feet, holding his child in her arms. Did he have a child? No, but he knew it was his.

He lifted his sword, feeling his own face curl into a wicked, sadistic smile.

"Harold, please, no." She sobbed, clutching their baby.

He lifted his sword, there was a scream as his sword came down. He shot up straight in bed.

---

"Recurring nightmares or in some extreme cases, night terrors, are the result of severe trauma. In some cases those suffering from them scream or yell out in the middle of their sleep. For some reason that we're not sure about, most that suffer don't remember having them at all. Some however, remember every last detail. They lose sleep, afraid to fall asleep. I've done mild dream alterations before but... I haven't dealt with any case as extreme as yours before."

Aleros didn't wear his ornamental headdress of feathers and trinkets. His hair was tied back in a tight pony tail, colored a deep blue. The man in front of him had bloodshot eyes and bags of skin beneath his eyes that could put a hound to shame. Other features, a slouched posture, wrung hands, showed his obvious exhaustion and lack of sleep.

"I can't sleep. I can't function." The infiltration Marshal sat before Aleros, hunched over in a simple wooden chair. Several candles flickered in the windowless room, although it was light outside. SI:7 had their own hand in the incidents at Wrathgate, but even their own agents had been affected by the atrocities carried out by what they thought to be Putress's hands. Aleros wasn't informed of the infiltrator's name, just that his code name was Fourteen.

Aleros's teeth shone, they were not perfectly white, possibly an off white, but the candle light accented the yellow tint to bring the color out. Fourteen couldn't look him in the face, the teeth showing through that wide grin almost seemed to him like a predator's. "I'll have to have a look see, and maybe I can tweak a few things while I'm in there."

A touching video

Browsing WoW music videos, I came upon this little gem.

Maybe we should make Music Video Mondays?

At the Wrathgate...

Aleros hasn't been doing much, other than keeping people alive, so here's - finally - his contribution.


The battle raged to new heights. Instead of a slow trickle of undead and an overwhelming force of Alliance, Aleros now looked across a battlefield of mingled armies. Horde, alliance, and Arthas's army now fought together. If one thing heartened the druid it was that the horde and alliance worked together. Too long had the petty squabbles of the two forces hindered real progress towards eliminating true threats. It was surely a good sign that they were working together.

For most of the battle so far very few injuries had come in to his care. Some of the ones that did come were severe, but he never found himself overwhelmed healing the wounded. He treated both horde and alliance, although at his current position he received very few that donned the horde's red tabard.

One of the younger men of the alliance army had received a nasty wound from one of the vicious blades of the undead, and it had festered terribly. The man must have been no older than 19.

"They sent me up here from my station down in Booty Bay. Nice place it is. A bit rough." He groaned as Aleros worked on bringing the infection under control. He wouldn't be sealing the wound before then. He used alchemical potions as well as magic to control and remove it.

"I had a shack down there." Aleros gave the man a quick smile before returning his gaze and attention to the wound, it smelled like rotting fruit. "My daughter also frequents it, but she doesn't go into the Bay all that often."

"That-" he winced, "That so? What I'd give to be down there right now, not up in this frozen hell hole. She... she pretty?"

That's an odd question. He stopped for a moment, then considered that the man might need some comforting conversation right now. "Yes. Yes she is. Long blue hair, a big smile. Very smart, although she doesn't act it. She's with someone. She's with someone but I could ... I could get you a drink with her. When you get back to the Bay." He looked up at the man's face again. It did seem to give him some relief to think about somewhere warmer again.

"I'm Maynard Wilson."

"Aleros, Aleros Crescentwing."

"If you don't mind me asking... what's... what's her name?"

"Skyborne, most just call her Sky."

"Skyborne Crescentwing..." His gaze wandered off.

"Oh, no. She's just what you'd call my daughter in law."

"Oh." Maynard became silent after that. His silence made Aleros feel almost uneasy.

"Her last name is... Jh'talith. You will - you can still meet her."

Maynard smiled at that, but still said nothing. That was enough for Aleros. He successfully removed all traces of the infection and began to close the wound as he noticed five men coming down one of the slopes towards him. Two of them were carrying one man, and one of the others was carrying...

"We seek aid, we're a scouting party from the pass over," he indicated over the hill they'd just come from "There. We were ambushed." All of the men were somewhat torn up and bleeding in various places, but the worst was the one they carried. "Our commander, he needs your healing the most." One of the men held out a detached foot. The man they had now set down on a stretcher was indeed without one of his feet.

Aleros applied an elixir to Maynard's wound, which had almost finished healing, and went over to begin trying to piece their commander back together.

The man who carried nothing down the hill and had yet to speak, spoke. "We need this done in less than half an hour, and everyone back in fighting condition."

Aleros felt a twinge at the tone in the man's voice. "This can't be done in half an hour, let alone getting him into fighting condition."

"We need it done in that amount of time. The pass cannot go unguarded."

"I am telling you that no magic will have him back in fighting condition in any less time than a day." He tried to keep his voice calm, despite the impatient and annoyed tones that the man was rapidly developing.

"Then we shall have to take him to someone more suited to his injuries, a brother of the light, not some hippie healer."

Aleros's face muscles twitched. "I told you, no magic can reattach this man's foot and heal all the wounds he has in that amount of time." He continued to not look at the man, but rather desperately concentrated on keeping that Commander's life in him.

"This is an order. Druid."

"I don't work for your Stormwind army, and I don't take orders from the likes of you." The red flames with the black background flew over the nearby camp. He was now genuinely annoyed, and still trying to keep his focus.

One of the other men interjected, "Kessler, maybe you should just let him do his job."

"Liutenant Commander Kessler to you! I know what his job is, and our job is to make sure no undead get over that pass, do you hear me? I'm second in command with Jex here incapacitated! Don't back talk me again Corporal or I'll have you--"

"Kessler," the commander interrupted, who up til now appeared to be unconscious. "Shut the fuck up."

Maynard had a hard time stifling a laugh.