The Traveling Priest in Bilgewater Harbor. ((Cancled,))

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Bluecalf
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The Traveling Priest in Bilgewater Harbor. ((Cancled,))
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This thread might contain, explicit language and other mature stuff.

((This rp is open only between me and Rhynnie. Sorry))

Naois, carefully steps out of the ramp, leading out of one of the Horde ships that took him here, all the way from Grom'Gol Base Camp. The trip over made him motion sick, he was never used to the constant motion of a ship, sailing through water, or the hot salty air. He was eager to leave the ship, get his feet on some solid ground, and breath in the fresh air. But when he finally stepped off the ramp, nearly tripping off of it. He smells the air on this harbor, it had a strong, stale, hot, metallic scent to it, that made him grimace, it is unusual to him.

When looked down the pier, leading towards down the goblin city, he knew instantly, why there was such an odd scent. It was all flowing out of the city itself, it wasn't just the large, bending, smog spewing smokestack that seemed to be protruding out of, almost every single building. It wasn't just the large, odd looking rigs that dotted all along the coast line, hammering, relentlessly into the earth, black oil bursting forth from the top of some, like an industrialized fountain. It wasn't just the rather threatening looking machines that are strewn haphazardly along the street, some look like they could take off a limb or spread a disease, just by standing near it. It was a combination of all those things at once that made the air taste so odd, it made Naois nauseous.

Naois slowly walks down the pier, becoming anxious, and the air didn't help him at all, the piles of explosives that are laying dismissively on both sides the of pier as he passes, certainly didn't help comfort him, and the strange goblin that made him stop at the end of the pier, requested for a heavy toll of 25 gold, just to pass, didn't help calm his worries either. Without a word of protest, Naois wistfully gave the greedy goblin his 25 gold and he moved on, he didn't want to leave a negative impression of himself to The Bilge Water Cartel, just by refusing to abide by one of many of its, ludicrous laws.

He reminded himself, why he is here. He is a healer, he came here because of a rumor of there being an unprecedented string of accidents that were  occurring here. Judging by what he already saw, he wouldn't be surprise that he had arrived to a huge, smoldering crater, rather then a Goblin Harbor. Despite his already sour impression of this city, it is his duty as a healer, to aid the wounded, that have survive these unfortunate series of events. Even if it means this place might get him killed, doing so.

Mala
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Corpse always hated being in Bilgewater. It was just as bed of a cesspit as Silvermoon is, only dirtier, ruder, and much much busier. But what she hated the most was the sheer lack of things to do. She was called in some time ago by her boss in the Cartel, and left immediately to get to Bilgewater in good time. (Which she did, since she never needed to rest duing her travels.) She thought she had an actual job coming in, something to do other than sit around and do nothing.

What she got was thug duty... again.

Which meant wandering around Bilgewater while the other members were out on assignment, making sure the locals still showed their respect, and that tourists learn to do the same. However, she took this job very lightly, often lounging around and watching the ships. She really didn't need to do the work anyways, and hated these jobs. She found no sport in beating on weaker people or intimidating merchants into giving her organization money. So instead, she would cut the roves around the the island to one or two rounds a day, and spend most of the time drinking and watching the sea.

It was during one of her many escapes from work that she saw a familiar face; or rather, a familiar white dress with a familiar white hat moving around with a familiar nervous gait. She had managed herself onto the top of a wall to sit and drink (Quite a feat for a woman with only one arm!) when she saw him get off a Horde ship, stumbling rough the flow of on-coming and off-going sailors and swaying drunkenly as anyone going ashore would. She smirks to herself, watching Naois stumble around being confused. Content with this new form of entertianment, she decides to let him stumble about a bit more.

Never Again Volunteer Yourself!

Bluecalf
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Naois finally made it off the docks and onto solid ground. It is a miracle that he hadn't bump into any of the drunken orcish sailors and marines that seem to be swaying at any direction that they think the docks is in. Most were slump against the wall, simply letting their tankards of grog flow down their throats. A few of them fighting each other for some obscure reason. He sees an drunk marine, laying on the ground, at an area where he wouldn't get trampled while sleeps. 

One of the orc gave him a weird look. Naois felt even more uneasy when the orc started to walk towards him, or rather, hobble towards, struggling just to keep himself balance. He looks at Naois with a lop-sided grin, face tinted red with a too affectionate, intoxicated blush. He murmurs something, Naois only heard one word. ' lil' lady'. he is glad that he didn't hear the rest of his statement. "Ah!" Naois yelps. Quickly stepping to the side, before the drunkard could lunge forward, and swing his arms around where Naois had been. The orc tumbled, spread-eagle on the ground, falling into restful unconsciousness.

How can a city such as this, bring such disciplined soldiers of the horde, down to such depravity? Even down to the point where one of them had mistaken him for a female. He thought with embarrassment. Sure, he is smaller than most, even by his kin's standards. Was it his apparel. He shakes his head at the thought. There is a clear difference between a robe, and a frilly dress. Maybe was the mask, and the hat, which he felt was necessity right at the moment, because he does not want to breath in more of the hot industrialized air than he need too.

Naois, stares down at the orc, suspecting him to jump up and attempt to smother him again. He slowly steps around the sleeping orc, and trotted up the street, further into the city. Where there would be slightly less intrusive drunkards. In a place where he could hear his own thoughts again, he hopes, futility. Rubbing his hands together, shivering as if he has a cold. He walks up an incline, leading to an entrance, flanked by two walls leading to the upper city. When he reach the end of it, he stopped inches short of a large puddle in the middle of the road. He tilts his head, left and right. Rolling his shoulders. Someone should clean that up. He thought, stepping over the puddle, carefully. maybe, he should clean that up later. He just needed to find a mop and-

Naois thoughts are interrupted when his foot got caught by an end of the street corner. He grunted, falling on his his knees. He tried, to get, but he felt something tugging at the bottom of his robe. He looks over his shoulder, to his frustration, his robes was stuck between the panel. He sighs, wondering if most of his week long stay here will be as stressful as now. And, somehow, Naois couldn't shake this odd feeling, that he is being watched.

 

Mala
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Corpse watched the orc harass her friend with a cruel smirk. Somehow, she just could not get enough of seeing the poor elf squirm. she continued watching him as he scurried away from the orc and entered the city... Only to profeed to faceplant himself at the gates. She sighs, dropping her have into her open palm.

"Really, you're going to get yerself killed here, kid..." She thought to herself. Bilgewater was a dangerous place to be, even with her organization's influance over it. "Might as well offer to help, a'fore he gets muged 'r somethin'." With that, she pushed herself off her post on the wall, landing nimbly on the road in a bit of a crouch. Of course, she only landed so nimbly because she's not in armor today, choosing instead some black leather pants and boots with a dark blue blouse, buttoned obscenely low. She also has a short, blue-grey cloak slung over her left shoulder, to had the nub that used to be her arm.

With a grunt, she pushes herself up to her feet again, tossing back her curly hair from her face, and takes a brisk walk towards the downed mage.

((Short right now, because sleep, but planning on adding some twists later on. =3 ))

Never Again Volunteer Yourself!

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(Here you go, feel free to point out any grammatical and content errors, and suggest any ideas on how I can improve this post. :P)

Naois stopped tugging irritably at the snag of his robe. He noticed a familiar one-armed (She has it covered o fcourse, but he still notices.) Blood elf approach him. Noticing her casual attire, he kept his eyes on everything above the neck. Looking into her cold, blue eyes. "H-Hello Frost." He said, as plaintively as he could. He tugs his white robe one more time, it tore off from the snag. Lurching forward suddenly for tugging a little too hard. He cringed at the sound of it tearing, like getting a deep bruise, on the skin. So the analogy goes.

Naois rose to his feet, patting out the dirt from the bottom of his robes. Then sweeps it for good measure. Eyes not leaving Frost as he does it. "S-So..." He stops sweeping. "What b-brings you here?" He took some comfort, seeing a familiar face, such as Frost's in a place like this. He felt he may not know her at a personal level, but he crossed paths with her enough times to know that she doesn't mean any harm to him, in most circumstances.

However, that comfort and familiarity clashed heads with his suspicion and cautiousness towards her. Because in some of those few times that they had meet each other. She seems to have a tendency of pressing into his comfort zone, by using her not so subtle and intrusive teasing. He wasn't exactly sure why she does. Maybe its because she takes some dark, sadistic, joy from intruding into his personal space, and applying friction to one of his many phobias. To this day, he felt , more or less, a tinge of regret telling her some of his phobias. He should've known better then that.

Mala
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'Frost' shrugs. "I work here, Guy. Place is lax in law, so the Organization don' need'a worry as much." She looks down at Naois, wondering is she might have said more than she needed to. It's not like they were extremely secretive about things, but they didn't want to promote, either. She pushed away the worry, for now. Naois didn't look much like a snitch anyways.

"What's got me wonderin', though, is why you decided to bring your shiney ass here. This ain't really a friendly place for you to be, Guy. Don' want you gettin' mugged or anythin'." She wasn't lying. Latey, the locals seemed to be unsettled. Some have even come to her asking for protection against some new gang that's starting up. Just a bunch of kids, trying to look big, her boss told her when she brought it up, Just ignore them. If they ain't bothering us, we don't need to bother them. That didn't settle well for Frost. She wasn't a richious person, by any means, but she was fond of her ideals of honor, and letting a bunch of thugs harass the tamer cityfolk didn't fit with those ideals.

She gives Naois another look. He would definately be a target for the new gang. And unfortunately, she happened to be rather fond of him. "Perhaps I'll go ahead and show ya around," she sighed, than added with a smirk, "For a good price, a'course."

Never Again Volunteer Yourself!

Bluecalf
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Naois' eye twitched at the words, shiny ass, he rubs his hands together under Frost's gaze. He gazes down at his feet to see if there was tear or a molecule of dirt that he might have missed on his robes. "W-Well, if y-you wish t-to know I-I am here in t-to answer to the string of a-accidents here lately." He looks around himself. Considering what he saw at the docks, he didn't need to think hard on what the causes of those accidents were. "A-As a healer, I am here t-to tend to the victims of th-these accidents and prevent, a-any more casualties i-in the near future."

As for this organization that Frost mention, well, as curious as he was about it, he understood that some subjects are best left in the dark. Especially when comes to a faction that a person such as Frost was Affiliated in.

. "Perhaps I'll go ahead and show ya around," she sighed, than added with a smirk, "For a good price, a'course."

Naois looks at her thoughtfully. Maybe, It wouldn't hurt to have a guide with him during his stay here. Plus, he trusted Frost enough to ensure his safety. "A-Alright." He after a moment of thought. He takes out a small pouch. "H-How much do y-you want?" He asks. Searching through its contents, counting out the gold in it. Which isn't much.