Booty Bay (Stranglethorn)

A loud groan stirred him, high pitched voices called out in the distance. He felt his body sway to and fro with the motion of the sea. Taizen's eyes slowly fluttered open, the sleepy haze dissipating from his vision. He lay in a hemp rope hammock in the belly of a ship. Swinging one leg over the edge, he rolled himself out of the hammock letting out a long yawn and stretching his languid wiry frame. Taizen dusted off his clothes, looking around the empty hold. The only thing that accompanied him were large crates of various trade, and empty hammocks not unlike the one he just evacuated.

"Musta over slept", he muttered to himself, rubbing one of his eyes as he ventured up the stairs to the deck. Goblins ran back and forth along the deck pulling down masts and preparing for docking. A slightly bulkier looking goblin wearing a three pointed hat and a sour disposition, stood atop a crate near the steering wheel, shouting obscenities at the various workers. There was a crowd of passengers on the ship, after all it was a charter vessel, from all walks of life. Though there was a clear group of Horde and Alliance who's sole job seemed to give each other dirty looks.

He ignored them for the most part, striding to the forward stern to take a look at his destination. There nestled in a large lagoon at the southern tip of Stranglethorn, was Booty Bay. It's mishmash of wooden walkways and ladders poking high into the mountain it was built out of. He could see the large statue of Baron Revilgaz to the left of the ship staring haughtily at all those who enter his domain. It was truly a paradise of sorts, at least if your a pirate. It had everything one would want, entertainment, trade, wealth, and foods of all kinds. But, Taizen was not here for the typical pleasures. He was here for a very specific reason, that happened to coincide with a tempting offer.

Revilgaz has put out the call to anybody who would work for money that Booty Bay needs help. With the war to the north distracting most of the population of Azeroth, Bloodsail pirates have made a move deep into Blackwater territory. He needs help pushing them out, and Taizen just happened to get his hands on information that could sweeten the pot. Being the opportunist that he is, he intends to take the job, and any perks that go with it.

The ship slows into port, and the loud thud of the ramp slamming on the docks alert everyone to their arrival.
"The ship from Ratchet has arrived at Booty Bay port!", the goblin dock master shouted.

A stoic looking Nightelf sat quietly, or he had been as the ship docked. He'd watched a few other patrons of the ship move about but wasn't usually in dire need to know what they were doing. He shifted a bit, making sure the sea spray hadn't done anything to his bulky armor, his large axe sitting on his hip, just dangling over the edge of the crate he sat on. He leaned back against a wall, not minding any scratches this placed upon his shield. His eyes began to dart back and forth through his goggles; he always enjoyed watching the Goblins scatter about in an effort to do what they had to.

The small, but clever creatures liked to give Dinendal sneers and jeers for the fact that his engineering knowledge was centered in the realm of their enemies, the gnomes. Dinendal didn't care though, he just smiled at them, at everyone in fact. It wasn't in him to be vicious to anyone of the opposing faction and he tried to show the fact that he was tolerant, even if the same courtesy wasn't given.

He watched the Troll move about the deck now, curious as always in what some considered by odd accounts his distant cousin. Dinendal wasn't certain what to think about those stories, but he wasn't clear on his own origins as such either. The Nightelf opted to look away though, before Taizen would perhaps act as others did, the usual "Mind your eyes, Alliance dog," a common turn-a-phrase for Dinendal.

The Nightelf hopped off the crate he sat on nimbly once Goblins began to swarm for the cargo, or at least what Dinendal assumed was cargo. He walked toward the planks quietly, quiet but calm and friendly intentions exuded in his demeanor.

"The ship from Ratchet has arrived at Booty Bay port!", the goblin dock master shouted.
Deadlyte grinned softly...

Clementine put her hands on her hips and squinted in the sunlight. The ship that had once been a dot on the horizon was now towering in front of her, lines being cast down to the docks.
“The ship from Ratchet has arrived in Booty Bay port!” The goblin dock master shouted.

“ ’Bout time…” Clem crossed her arms in front of her chest and shifted her wait. She jerked her head towards the boat at the large Tauren beside her. As the wooden boarding plank came slamming down, the usual suspects came clambering off. Elves, Orcs, Big Blue things… The Tauren and a few bruisers pushed their way up the ramp and onto the deck of the boat. Clem followed.

“Where’s my shit, greenie?!” She shouted up to a goblin securing some rigging. Another, from up higher in the deck and of higher standing, shouted back.
“You’ll get it Vegard… We’re behind schedule, but only by an hour.”
“Yeah an hour late makes me two hours late to open the bar. I’ve got a business to run…And my customers aren’t the waiting kind.”
“Your cargo’s down in the hold…”

Clem stood and watched more passengers and crew mill off as the Tauren and bruisers went below deck. A goblin approached her with a clipboard asking her to sign as her boxes came up the stairs. Scribbling quickly and looking over the cargo she met eyes with the ‘incharge’ goblin from before and spat on the deck. Turning back to the dock, she walked down the ramp callously pushing past one or two, knocking them off balance. The Tauren followed not far behind, with a large crate over his shoulder.

“Just get it back to the barnacle and let’s get open.”

Taizen silently watched as they secured the boat to the landing dock, little green heads moving frantically just below his normal field of vision. Once the ramp was secured he started making his way down to Booty Bay proper. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a curious looking Night Elf. He didn't seem to be standing with the rest of the Alliance on the boat, and though that was out of the ordinary it wasn't something he was too worried about yet.

His thoughts were interrupted though, by the sound of a loud woman seemingly quite unhappy with the arrival of her shipment. His curiosity got the best of him and after he left the boat he hung back to watch the annoyed goblins go about the task of getting her out of their hair. As he was watching he heard what she had mentioned, the barnacle, that rung a bell. It took him a few moments to watch the direction in which the woman and very large looking Tauren were heading for him to remember. When he was still in ratchet one of his old buddies from school told him about the Stubborn Barnicle, a rough place that was second only to the world famous Salty Sailor. The Sailor was not his type of scene, there were too many people there who would get in his way.

Catching up to the human and tauren pair he walked along side her.
"You be interested in showin' me your place, sistah? Was a long journey and I be a little parched ya?", he managed a small grin. Taizen was never able to completely shake off his father's accent. At least he was better than Tuli, he swore sometimes it was thicker than Zenosi's.

Clem leafed through a couple of papers scanning back and forth, grumbling to herself.
“Company…” The Tauren warned under his breath.
She looked up, then to him, following a shrug back to the young troll approaching her. Rolling her eyes she did her best to seem really, really busy.

“GAHDAMN greenies forgot my specialty port. Old man won’t be happy about that one.”
To no avail, the troll spoke asking about her place.

“Hey, look Buddy… I’m not into that kinda thing. You wanna see someone’s ‘place’ I suggest you try the brothel next to the dressmaker on the top level.” Never once having looked up from her paper.

The Tauren laughed, shaking his head.

There was a hesitancy as other races pushed past Dinendal, namely the horde races pushing a bit more roughly, but the Night elf gave not resistance. He wasn't looking for a fight at the moment.. Like the Troll, Dead heard the loud cries of the female human and grinned when he saw the Tauren. The Tauren were more apt to be friendly toward night elves because of their desire to protect nature. Not all was as sugar coated though and Dinendal knew this.

He finally set off down the ramp, this time, a human trying to push past him and Dead, just a tad irritant at the disrespect he was being shown by his faction...He shoved the man back, the rogue (as far as Dead could tell,) being the weaker. He watched the man land in the water with a splash and then jump out as it were, running across the water quickly.. No sheer sense of what he was, even from the ability.

Dead continued, no one else gave him grief though, not right out in the open. The Troll was right, he didn't favor his faction, he favored people. He favored those who showed themselves to be of high character and courage. Those who were willing to walk in their own light.. Given he didn't hold any kinship with the less desirable characters out there.

Dead walked to one of the goblins carrying the load for Clem. "Scuse me, little 'un" he said softly, dwarven accent rough in his voice. "Might ye be showin me the way to a fine inn or establishment where I might find me some grub?" He grinned a white toothed grin, looking softly though the goggles. His voice was low and, while it should of been rough like one who spoke with a dwarvish accent, it was warm and eloquent like an elves.

Taizen didn't like to be made a fool of, a small wave of anger flashed in his eyes, but he swallowed his pride. If he wanted to get through the day without dealing with any of the bruisers, he would need to keep it in check. Running his fingers through his dreads he cleared his through and rephrased the question.

"I mean yah establishment, the Stubborn Barnahcle ya? You be the owner I be guessin?"
He held up his hands as if silently pleading for her to listen.
"I just wantah drink, you like business ya?"

If he was to make any headway he'd need a place to gather some information. The Barnacle seemed like a good place to find people who didn't want to be in the middle of the crowd of people in the Sailor. His best shot was at a place a little less known. He heard one of the other boat patrons ask a similar question to a helper goblin, the Night Elf he saw on the boat. This might pose a problem just yet.

Clementine smiled a smug grin, glancing up at the Tauren.
“Oh sure, sweetie. I bet that’s all you’re after…”
As they walked she made a sharp left and up a few planks of stairs.
“Yeah, I’m the owner…And this is my place.” She grabbed a key that hung from her neck and unlocked the salt stained door, holding it open. An old rusty sign swung in above, barely legible.
“Kick yer boots up, love. Gotta stock the place up.”
The large Tauren pushed Tai out of the way, and walked into the bar again laughing to himself.
Clem looked the troll up and down and crossed her arms, smirking.
“You comin’ in, sweetie?”

The seas lift and dropped the pile of wood Tokad called a boat. Every swell of water caused a terrible creak down the hull of the ship. Any normal man or dwarf would not of even used such a vessel for firewood. But Tokad, leg up on the bow with a pipe longer than his body, looked off into the distant without a care in the world.

That was until he heard shouting and commotion that snapped him out of his sea daze. The front of his boat had grazed the side of the rocks that lined the entrance of booty bay. His course now had him going straight towards a large portion of dock. Bruisers where waving there arms signaling a form of "slow down" Tokad turned and his wooden leg having no grip slipped from out from under him. He fell to the ground but a quick save with his hook on a nearby strand of rope saved him. He got to his feet and started to scamper to the wheel of the ship. As he ran to the helm, he was untying and tightening ropes at lighting speed, it was apparent that he has been on ships for many years. The look of shock on the eyes of the bruisers now turned into fear and they started forcing people away from the section of dock now destined to meet the front of the Ship.

Tokad grabbed one of his many swords from his belt and cut the line to the sails dropping them to the deck. He began to furiously turn the boat but what he didn't realize was that the collision with the rock had caused his boat to start flooding. The Bow of the ship was now almost completely under water and nicked a few of the rocks that rested under the water. The stern of the ship was now approaching the dock and a collective silence fell over the crowds.To everyone's surprise, especially Tokad, it came to a halt as it slowly ground into a few of the docks plants and came to a rest. Tokad let go of the helm, walked towards the bow which was now flush with the dock, and stepped off. As his parrot landed on his shoulder he looked around at all the half huddled people "Yeh, Whel, Wher Can A Guy Git a Drink around hare?"

The goblin pushed past Dinendal with a quick jeer at the proud elf. "Outta my way long ears.." The elf was taken aback by the comment. "Aye, ye be 'avin ears long as me own!" He bellowed, and slapped the little creature on the back, nearly plowing him over, a soft laugh emitted.. The Elf met nothing ill in the gesture, but goblins were finicky.

The little creature dropped the crate and growled. "Stupid elf.." but Deadlyte being quick to help, picked it up. "Lead the way, in returned fer the help, you can help me find what I'm a searchin' fer!!" And with a sigh the goblin lead the way again growling under his breath.

Dinendal just grinned the whole way, his goggles covering his eyes to a point behind their own yellow glow as he searched people out. He watched the troll, human, and tauren converse for a moment, his ears picking up faint bits as only the long and often cumbersome elf ears could do. He smiled at them briefly and went by, the goblin leading.

((Moments pass as he takes the cargo to someone else.))

The goblin pokes his head in the Stubborn Barnacle and then waves a hand. Behind him comes a tall and armored Night elf, goggles glow more accentuated by the light outside silhouetting him. Anyone who wasn't an ample and powerful adventurer might find him intimidating. He walked in quietly though, not saying much.

Taizen was almost past the threshold when he heard the commotion down at the docks. Looking back he could see what looked like a crowd of people gathering near the edge and some loud shouting. He blinked for a moment, but decided it wasn't his business and turned, walking into the barnacle.

"Thank yah, sister." he nodded to her, the little fetishes dangling from his ear-tips dancing.

Walking into the Barnacle, he took stock of his surroundings. It was a nice place, nicer than he expected by a long shot, it was completely empty though not surprising considering she just opened. Taizen found a comfortable bar stool and set his stick to lean on the bar, letting the shrunken heads dangle over it. He reached up and grabbed one, staring deeply at it for a moment, before letting it go and relaxing on the stool.

A few moments later another patron entered, not to his surprise it was the Night Elf he'd seen earlier. Taizen gave him a quick glance, but didn't linger. The elf looked ready for a fight any moment, despite the disposition that seemed less than threatening. He wasn't taking too many chances though.

"What do yah have, sister?"

Clementine walked behind the bar bending over, searching for something.
“I have….” She sighed as she stood back up, crowbar in hand. “A bar full of crated cargo.” Unless you want some dried up old whiskey with some water slushed in it, You’ll just have to wait sweetie.”
She passed the crowbar to the Tauren. “Let’s see what’s in the big one, Gear.”
He cracked open the crate with little effort. Gear lifted a large glass carboy over his shoulder. “In the back, Miss?” he spoke in a rumbling low voice.
“Ohh good! We’ve been dry on mead for the whole summer… Yeah, back’s fine.”
There was an assembly line of goblins lining up boxes and cracking them open. Each would pass it down the line to Clementine who would put it back up on the shelves in it’s place.
After about 20 minutes of this, she grabbed a bottle of unlabled golden liquid. And set it down on the bar with a pewter mug. Pouring herself a hefty portion, then downing it in one go, she made a face and made a gasp for air. Pressing both hands against the bar, leaning towards Taizen she said in a much calmer voice…
“Now… What’llit be, Sailor?”

Taizen wasn't a sailor, but he suspected this was just something she said to her patrons. He leaned up against the bar, his fingers idly twisting his staff back and forth along the edge of the counter.

"Ya got some port?" he said, his eyes on the tough looking tender.

However, drink wasn't the only thing he was looking for, and he thought it no better time than to ask about what he came here for. He left his home for this, and should the rumors prove true he would get his hands on it. Then he'd show those nay-sayers, they'd understand that there was still a good bit of use out of the old ways.

"Yah hear anyt'ing about the reward Revilgaz is putting out? The rumors are true aren' dey? Bloodsail be movin' in on Booty Bay." he watched for her reaction.

“Yeaaaaaah, I got port. Got some special reserve port too. But it’ll cost ya…”
Clementine turned and picked up two dark glass round bottom bottles. The corks still freshly sealed with a red wax. She set them down on the bar heavily.
“What about you, NELFY?! You want something too or are you gonna act all shy-wallflower-like in the back? You some kinda poet?!”
The troll in front spoke up, shaking her from her insult spree. She made two fists and slammed them on the bar causing the bottles to bounce.
“GAH-DAMN THEM!” Having been in the kitchen, Gear came walking out with thunder in his steps. He walked over to where Tai sat and towered over him, arms folded. He let out a snort and jerked his head towards the troll.
“Nah nah, Gear. It’s alright… just makin’ me touchy is all…” Clementine rolled her shoulders and leaned on the bar.
“Those Mothe-…” She seemed to struggle to calm herself taking a breath, then restarting. “Those GUYS… BLOODsails… They’re the reason I don’t got much cargo these days. I make a payment, they hijack my ship, I’m out a heft sum of my shares and no booze.” She leaned in to him, grabbing his robe. (Gear took a shuffle forward, anticipating action) “No, BOOZE, no happy, poet-friendly, quick-talkin’, creepy-shit-carryin’, mermaid-lickin’ CUSTOMERS.”
She let go of him and rocked back on her heels.
“SO ya… there’s bloodsail ‘round here…”

Dinendal walked toward the bar, his armor clanking heavily with each forthcoming step. He sat quietly beside the toll, a seat between them though because, well, in all honest Dinendal knew he made others nervous. He listened quietly to the woman talk, smiling all the while. Din wasn't old by any standard, still in the youthful years of the Night elves.

"Might I 'ave a pint of ale?" he put some gold pieces on the counter.. "If ye be gotten it, of course. An' whatever else the troll be wantin'" the Dwarvish accent came across thick for the moment. Dead pulled the goggles from his eyes finally, letting the heavy set of eye-wear hang around his neck. "An' the only poetry I be doin' might be with me axe an' shield.." his smile just remained ever present. "An if ye be needin' some help, I'm not as costly as some people. Adventure, room, an' board, and a few friendly faces would do..Mind ye, I can no' do it all on me own!"

He waited silently, unbuckling portions of his armor, the straps carefully hidden under the plates to protect them from a swiping blade. The runes of Elune, which Dinendal had etched into the magical metals, glowed brilliantly at his touch, but subsided shortly after. He watched the Tauren, and braced to break up any sort of fights that might break out. Rightly so, he was aware of the pain that might face him should he take a hit for the troll, who he could see lacked some of the finer people skills. Din was unaware of trolls and their traditions though, so he didn't bother reacting harshly. Though one might notice Din flinch every time the human female raised her voice.

Taizen watched as the woman went into a tirade about the aforementioned pirates. Apparently the rumors were quite true, and that was most definitely a good thing. Sure, the approaching Night Elf was somewhat intimidating in his own right, but if Taizen would be scared of anyone he would have to choose the bartender at the moment. Not that he would admit any of this to either of them, he just put on his most apathetic face and dealt with the situation.

"Ah see.", he muttered.

When the Night Elf offered him a drink, but not only that, his sword, Taizen was a little taken back. Nobody is this friendly, and though he wasn't about to turn down a free drink, he kept a wary eye on the new patron.

"T'anks for the drink bruddah." he said somewhat civilly. "Gimme that port then."

"Well I don't see why nobody isn't doing any'tin ya? I mean you be a tough sistah and the big un' there seems formidable enough. Not to mention mistah helpful over heah." He nodded his head toward the Night Elf. "What be the problem?"

Taizen was all about getting as much information as he could, he wasn't about to jump into this blindly.

The human shifted her weight, her wide hips swayed as she rested her elbow on the bar, looking over her shoulder at the two men. She met eyes with Gear as he stood behind them acting like he was wiping down a table, but idly rubbing the same spot on the wood with an old cloth. She laughed, pressing her tongue to her cheek and shaking her head.
“Doin’ nothin’ ya?” She mimic’d the trolls accent. “Of COURSE I been doing something! Or have been trying to… You know how many sugar-lickin baby-faced thinks-hes-so-tough manly men with a tin can helmet I’ve sent out to secure my cargo?! And I don't know nelfy-toes over here.”

She stood straight, grabbing an uneven green glass from under the bar and setting it next to the port. Imperfections, bubbles and a slight crooked stem added to the character of the port glass. She picked up the bottle of cheap port and pulled the cork out with her teeth. She spit the wax behind her then turning, kicked her head to move the hair from her face. Pouring the glass a bit too full, she slammed the bottle down next to it then turned her back to fetch the ale.

In the wall was a wooden plank with a rusted handle of sorts. With a heave she opened the hatch, the hinges squeaking in resistance. An untapped keg sat in the cool inlet.
Clementine pulled a metal tap from her apron and slammed her fist into the wooden side of the keg. There was a thud and a clang as her hand hit the wood and the metal hit the floor.
Gear stood, seemingly surprised. He took a few quick steps to behind the bar and took the metal thing from her hand. She held the red hand with a scowling face…
“The damn thing’s blunt… BLUNT!”

Gear waited a moment to make sure she was okay, looking from her hand to her face.
“Ahhh I’m fine, you big lug. Just do the thing...” She jerked her head towards the inlet. If one looked close enough you might just see her blush. Averting eye contact, she shook her head, letting the few loose bangs re-align themselves into her messy ponytail and out of her face.

Clementine bent to reach for a stein below the bar, injured ego and all.

With a swift kick, the door to the Pub slams open. The bar fills with the chilled sea breeze and the smell of leather soaked in tar. Tokad walks in as if the place owed him something. He looks around at all the faces and makes a grunt at them adverting his eyes. He hobbles up to the bar, swings back his arm, and plants his crusted old hook about an inch into the bar counter and hoists himself up onto the seat. "Ya'ill be havnt the ale on tap if ye dunt mynd lass"

At Taizen's thanks, Din gave a quick nod. Though at the further insults from the human female, Dinendal huffed a bit. "Aye, lass, in I come offerin' me services ferin' ta stop these bleedin' pirates, you find it in your heart to be throwin' insults at me! Next time ye be wantin' ta call me somethin', ye can be callin' me by my elf given name, Dinendal, or me dwarf given name, Deadlyte! But me name ain't no 'nelfy'" ((dead-light))

He huffed quietly, his voice had been calm the whole time, but that accent came back thick in the instant of irritation. He frowned shortly after though. "Sorry fer that.. I did no' mean ta snap at ya, lass." He waited patiently, and quietly for her to give him the ale if she so felt like he might have it. He was content to listen to any info she might give to them, rightly so, he needed a new adventure, something to tame the images from the frigid north.

Images of dying heroes, people screaming, towns and castles burnt. He frowned for a split second, seeing the haunting image of the dragons flying over Icecrown, laying waste to the heroes both from the alliance and horde, the soldiers who had set aside their differences in defiance of Arthas.

He smiled suddenly and listened again to any tirades she might go on for them, they were becoming more and more amusing, perhaps taking care of the pirates would help the human calm down a tad.

He threw another gold piece on the table for the burly dwarf who'd come in..this was after all one of Din's kin even if he didn't know the creature. Din knew the drinks couldn't possibly cost that much, but he didn't intend to stiff the people about him, if they wanted to keep drinkin', he didn't mind.

As Gear popped the spigot into the keg, turning shyly back to Clem. He nodded once then excused himself through the back door into the kitchen.

The door flew open and entered the dwarf. Where others might flinch, Clementine barely lifted a brow. She turned her chin to the door, eyes following. A smirk crossed her face as she looked him up and down. It quickly faded to anger as his hook dug into the lacquered bar.
“Hey WATCHIT Gran’pa! I only got one bar! And you aren’t payin’ for a new one…”
She scowled for a moment, snatched up the few gold coins on the bar and bent to grab two large pewter steins from beneath.
“You know, this is enough to buy you and your buddies enough of my ale for a dwarven drinking party…” Her eyes darted to the crusty old dwarf then back the elf.
“If you get rowdy, you pay for it….” She pointed an accusing finger to them both.

Grabbing both mugs by the handle she swooped over to the keg and filled them both to overflowing. She set down the first in front of the elf, some froth sloshing onto his chest. She slid the other down the bar towards the dwarf.
Taking a cloth from her pocket she wiped her hands and closed the door to the keg inlet. She brushed at her apron and straightened her shirt collar. Tilting her head to the side, she brushed the loose hair out of her face again and smiled a slightly forced smile.

“You boys got a place to stay while you’re in port? Or are you just passin’ through?”

Taizen let a grin spread over his lips at her mention of getting drunk, the last time he did that... Well he didn't quite remember that whole day, he usually didn't like loosing control of himself, but he had to admit he enjoyed the feeling. However, he wasn't planning on getting himself smashed today, he had important business to attend to.

"Ah will be stayin' here if you don' mind sister. This place seems homey enough ya? "

Taizen watched the other two patrons out of the corner of his eye, a little wary. He was always wary though, so it wasn't something that was different for him. When you start delving into the things that he has, you learn to grow eyes in the back of your head.

"How much it be for a night? An yah serve food heah too?" he said, as he gently fingered the bone piercings on his left arm with his right hand.

Dinendal shook his head quietly, thinking for a moment. "I'm not usually one fer spendin' all me time in one place, adventure always calls to me, ye see?" he took a mighty swig of his drink, grinning more then smiling as he felt it warm his body. "Me thanks, lass." He nodded shortly though about what she'd said pertaining to the gold. "Then keepin' the change you should be...I know what it can buy with me money." He gave a soft chuckle, having plenty of money, just keeping it tucked up and under his various bits of armor, rather then in a pouch at his belt.

"Be thinkin' I might stayin' here if'n ya dun mind, or your large friend." He nodded toward Gear, a smile spreading across his face. "Silent one, eh?" He took another large swig of the drink. No, it wasn't as strong as the dwarvish ales he could find back home, but it was a good settle. He wasn't apt to speak about his abilities or anything. He'd seen many a fight, he'd been through brilliant hells. Dinendal knew what he was getting into..but pirates surely couldn't be any tougher then hordes of undead, could they be?

"I'm not tha' messy, I give ye me word! An' I'm generally quiet..unless I end up meetin new people, then things be fallin' apart a tad. An' I promise I be havin' the money for room and board..or I can be payin' ye in other ways if'n ya be needin help round here." He looked into Clems eyes, his glowing the whole while. He was being sincere and honest, willin' to help out however he could. He needed a break from slaying undead, from seeing the mindless horrors of the lich king. He needed a break from this perpetuating war, the un-nerving cataclysm that was sure to happen.

“Well, it’s just Gear and I here… But we keep a clean quarter. I’ll toss you the same deal I tossed the other greenhorns. You get my shipment, or as much that’s left… knock off a few of them Bloodsails and you can stay here as long as you’d like.”

She smacked the wall behind her twice. Not a second had passed before Gear’s hand passed through the kitchen door holding a ring of room keys. She grabbed them and tossed them on the bar.

“Sure we make food here. It’s not momma’s cookin’ or nothing. But it’s good enough.” Clementine eyed Taizen and his strange piercings. An inch of curiosity rose in her, but she kept it to herself. She was used to getting strange folk in her place. It was a neutral port, afterall. Nelf’s with accents… she’d have to hear that one! Growing up around bar fights and bloodbaths on the docks made her resilient. Horde and Alliance alike came and went like the tides. She’d been used to friends and men alike doing the same. It became less and less hard to quell the curious questions one could ask that might begin some kind of attachment. Every once in a while she could feel the approaching of something important, something different.
She looked towards the ring of keys then up at the men.
Clementine let herself smirk again. She felt it now.
“Whatd’ya say, boys?”

Tokad held his tongue as the bar maid slid his dirty coins off the bar. He watched the maid fill the steins with wondrous ale. As she did so he took the opportunity to survey the room and who occupied it. He could tell that the bar was once a star attraction of the port. It had obviously been some time since then, but it kept an air of comfort that only comes with time. His eye went down the bar to the two patrons, one was a young Night elf. he figured he was some naive traveler on a fools errand. Goggles must be of Gnome origin. The troll sat there, creepy buggers. He had a chill up his spine when he realized one of the shrunken heads had been staring at him blankly the whole time. He adverted his eyes to the Tauren. He knew that the beast was a sort of insurance policy against drunkards. The maid seemed typical enough, but she had a tough spirit he valued. His train of thought was interrupted suddenly by the ale placed infront of him. Frothy and mild. Not as good as Dwarven stout, but it would suffice.

He listened to the patrons talk of getting rooms.

He reached for the Keys the maid put down, but stopped suddenly as he heard the Night elf speak. What was he doing? Was he doing some impression of a dwarf. Is he some sort of funny guy? Tokad had worked hard to make it to his reputation on the seas and the sound of the bar was dampened by his heart beating loudly in his ears.

"Ey You, Elf. What youse some surt of Funny man? Eh?...EH?" He turned in his seat with his good hand pointing accusingly at the heavily armored elf. "Aye may be half your siyze boy, but I have the fury of generations uf dwarves and have strung men up fer, Far, far less...." He said with a slight twitch of his eye.

The Night Elf sat there in mock horror, surprised, taken-aback by the unruly dwarfs reaction to the way Dinendal spoke. "I, I meant no disrespect, me friend. Me..adoptive father. He closed his eyes, the glow broken by his eye lids for a moment as he took on the more regal voice of the night elves, speaking softly.

"My blood parents, were slain in the third war." his voice was dejected, hollow. "I would of been slain too, but one burly proud Lefur Krag..he saved me as a baby." He smiled, pulling the goggles off and turning them over, showing the etching in the frame of the goggles. "I crafted all me gear, my father Lefur, he taught me to handle the forge, with respect, with love. The gnomes of Ironforge, they taught me to use me mind in me works, to engineer wonderful and magical things.." He nodded softly and let the accent pour into his voice again. He wasn't comfortable talking like other elves.. "Me armor was crafted and enchanted by me own hands, blessed by dwarven priests, etched by me very own hand in a dream state, seeing the runes of Elune."

He turned back to his ale, finishing the drink off in one more gulp. "Another, lass. If ye please." he sat there thinking back on what he said a sigh drawn from him. He didn't want trouble from the dwarf and he'd been telling the truth..if the dwarf choose not to believe him, he'd try to control the blood rage inside of him. Deadlyte was a merciless but fair warrior, Dinendal seeming to fall into this inner fire when things got to their worse. The Beast had saved him and many others so many times before..and no doubt would they again...but he wished to avoid violence in this place.