Fresh Start

=Chapter One=
:-by Ruadh nic Arthuaine
The gunsmith had been wary of the Night Elf's proposition: she wanted to rent the empty corner of Boomstick Imports East during the night. 'We've got more than enough food ta be had in town, girl – what makes ya think this...plan a'yours is going to work?'
'I've found a niche, so to speak.' She replied. 'I can obtain seafood the likes of which none shall see from the end of a fishing pole.'
Handing him a sample platter of fruits de mer and seaweed salad, she explained.
'Dried fish is leathery and foul-smelling, it retains none of the marine flavour that sets it apart from biltong. It also takes well-nigh two days and fair weather else it spoils and becomes unpalatable even to seagulls.'
'Yeh, well, ya still ain't making yaself quite clear – I don't need no cooking lesson, I'm a gunsmith.' Mazk spoke around a large prawn that he'd crammed into his mouth.
Ruadh sighed inwardly. Focus on the process, Ruu.
'Steam, Mazk. Steam-cooking requires no dependence on the vagaries of weather, and the seafood retains its flavour. It also takes a fraction of the time. Look.'
Ruadh tugged a series of slatted baskets from her pack, and began to put it together.
'The multiple tiers allow for a variety of seafood without having any conflict in flavour. Also, I can turn out a large volume when needed. Before you say anything about demand, I can answer that question in a word: The Blowhole.'
Mazk let out a moan and rolled his eyes in pleasure as he tasted the sweet flesh of a sea urchin. The Night Elf stood by politely as he chewed and swallowed. 
'All right, my girl, it's a deal. Five gold a month ta ya, in advance, and see that there ain't too many fights, eh?''
Mazk Snipeshot extended his hand to the tall green-haired Night Elf and grinned as she frowned at the smear of gun oil he left on her palm. Ain't bad – that corner would of stood empty anyways, and I ain't the type of goblin to work nights. 
----
Ruadh left the Old Port Authority with a light step and even lighter purse. If it cost gold to make gold, then so be it, but let noone claim I went into this lightly. 
Her mouth set in a thin line of determination, she went to see Rikqiz about the garret he was leasing. She would need a place to stow her nets and sleep, much as she preferred the night sky to wooden planking about her, the thought of waking to a cutlass at her throat was a much less entertaining prospect. 
To her surprise, the goblin had little interest in haggling, unlike Mazk. A single gold piece bought her a room of her own for the next two months. His handshake felt like the very leather he worked for a living and he had taciturnly stated one stipulation, 'No mens, okay?'
Ruadh had merely replied quietly, 'No, no mens.' Not when all I seem to do is eat their faces. Literally.
Satisfied, he'd turned back to his leather, waving a callused green mitt in the general direction of the stairs. 
The room was sparsely furnished, with only a small bed and nightstand. But the view was stunning – all of the Bay itself, and Janeiro's Point. It would do nicely for now. Ruadh stood on her balcony for a time, watching a pair of Booty Bay Bruisers as they bickered their way to the end of the dock and back. She had never met goblins before, but apart from an unflinching shrewdness where gold was involved, they asked no questions where it was forthcoming. It suit her situation perfectly.
----
As the sun began to descend from its zenith, she made her way to the blacksmith's. Allowing the patrons to eat their fill from the steamer would make it difficult if not impossible to apportion the seafood and control its outflow. 
Like fel am I going to dive off the dock for fresh stock simply because of some hog-bellied sousehead.
Brikk Keencraft drove a hard bargain. He was in a foul mood and the heat of the forge was doing nothing to improve his disposition. 'Ya want quality, ya got ta be willin' ta pay fer it. Endy story.' Damned nelves...always full'o themselves and their pretty ways.
Ruadh set her jaw in frustration. 'Brikk, I can't pay you five silver apiece for tin bowls – I don't have the money.'
'Ya can pay me half now and half later, can't ya? Mazk told me about that business venture a'yours – by the sounds of it, ya'll be fair rollin' in it soonish.'
'Two silver apiece, half now and half later.'
'Three, dearie – I ain't about ta cut me own throat.'
'Two and a half, and that's my final offer. I can't pay you what I don't have.'
Brikk paused in midhammerstroke and looked at Ruadh with surprise. Sensing a change in the air, Jansen began inching towards the weapons on display should the situation turn foul. His shoulders sagged in relief as his goblin business partner nearly collapsed in a fit of wheezing laughter. 
'Ya don't mince words, missy - I like that. Half now and half later at two and a half silver apiece it is.' Brikk held out his hand.
Ruadh shook his huge paw and groaned inwardly at the streak of soot it left in hers. Oh fel, not again...
----
The sun was a hair's breadth from the ocean's embrace as Ruadh collapsed onto her tiny bed. She had wrapped the remainder of her savings in oilcloth and hidden it deep in the reefs off the coast; an inquisitive eel was swatted senseless and unceremoniously devoured. That's dinner taken care of. But Ruu, you've got fishing to do tomorrow.
Ruadh curled into a ball and fell asleep, dreaming of chuckling goblins chasing her with their grimy mitts extended, wanting to shake hands.
=Chapter Two=
:-by Krelle
Krelle sighed as Wigick stuck his big nose into her office. She was perched, as usual, on the corner of the oversized desk, her work spread out in a chaotic looking mess in front of her. 
"What, Wig? I'm busy." 
The goblin frowned. '"I can see that, Miss Krelle, but I was just looking over this month's ledgers and there's a discrepancy," he said, weighing the word like it were some deadly secret. 
Felfire, someone probably pinched a bottle of rum again, she thought with asperity. "Ok, Wig, what's the problem?" 
"I was under the impression that I would be the sole supplier of seafood to the Blowhole," he said in an accusing tone. "But this month I recorded a 23% drop in revenue from that source!" 
Krelle sighed. "Twenty three? That's not that significant, is it Wig? Maybe gorilla was popular this month - " 
"Then how do you explain THIS?" he demanded, suddenly brandishing something small and sort of rubbery. 
Krelle paused, nonplussed. "What's that?" 
Wigick waggled the object furiously and it flopped about in his hand. "Steamed eel! I didn't sell them ANY steamed eel last month! Where did this come from?" He narrowed his eyes at the last, staring suspiciously at the offending delicacy. 
"Well, if you're not selling steamed eel, then why wouldn't they get it somewhere el-" 
"That's not the point! If they wanted it, they should have asked for it! They must have bought it from someone else..." 
"Wigick if you keep pointing that fish at me I'm going to shove it up your nose. Relax, ok? I'll look into it. It was probably some passing merchant with a steamer and they happened to get a bunch. It's not like there's another fishmonger putting out a tile, right? You would'a seen 'em, I'm sure." 
Wigick scowled, clutching the rapidly-falling apart piece of fish to his chest like it was an arrow that had pierced his hide. "This is my livelyhood, Miss Krelle! It's all fine for you tigers to come and go as you please, inviting all sorts into the den, gambling illegally in the offices - " 
"That was just a friendly game of - " 
"Making me clean up after accidents," he continued, speaking right over her as his voice grew more tragic - and louder. "I don't complain about the smell of burnt imp, oh no, nor that corpse you had stowed in the salt box for a week - " 
"That was just once -" 
"I don't ask questions when I hear strange noises that sound suspiciously like muffled screams from upstairs, oh no! I don't complain when my things go missing - things like rope and chairs and nets and gun shot. Absolutely not! Because I understand the value of a solid business deal!" He suddenly pointed the fish at her again. "But THIS! This is a FISH!" 
Krelle stared at him, momentailry stunned. 
Wigick nodded, drawing himself up with a strange kind of dignity. "I take my fish very seriously Miss Krelle." 
"Uh - as well you should, Wigick. Fish are your livelihood," she repeated. 
"That's right! They are!" 
Krelle nodded, recovering from her surprise. "I'll look into it tomorrow," she promised seriously. "I'm sensible to the bargain we've got going here. I'll find out where the fish came from, ok?" She'd never actually seen Wigick be assertive before. Sullen, yes. Grouchy, often. But the sight of him waving a half-disintegrated steamed something at her was one she'd never have bet to see. 
Wigick nodded solemly at her promise, then gave her a little bow. "Thank you Miss Krelle. I'll just let myself out," he said, shutting the door behind him. 
Krelle remained silent as she listened to his footsteps fade down the hall. She waited for the door to close at the far end before she dissolved in helpless giggles. 
She turned back to her work with a grin on her face, but was too distracted by Wigick and his flopping fish. She gave up, hopping off the desk and heading out the door. She'd have to do an impression for the others. It was just too good. 
=Chapter Three=
:-by Ruadh nic Arthuaine
The steamer was struck and stored, the bowls scoured clean and the napkins stacked. Surveying her handiwork with a critical eye, Ruadh allowed herself a weary smile. Speak of success...I barely have enough left for breakfast. 
She'd even had Horde come a-calling. Trolls with their fascinating facial paint and barely comprehensible accents. Orcs who made the planking judder alarmingly when they set their massive weapons down. Even the Tauren and Undead had developed a taste for seafood, though it struck her as slightly unsettling in the former and unseemly in the latter. 
The pair of them had gone so far as to question Mazk about her presence. Ruadh recalled her frustration that the entire conversation was conducted in Gutterspeak, of which she understood nary a word. No matter; their coin still chimed harmoniously in concert with the rest and they were hardly chary with their orders. 
She hopped onto the empty table and popped a leftover prawn into her mouth while counting the night's takings. A goodly number of assortments had found their way into patron's bellies this week; it was apparent that an 'option' for the indecisive or simply adventurous was going to be a regular fixture. 
Let's see...by this time tomorrow, I'll have enough to pay Brikk the difference. Set aside six gold pieces for Mazk and Rikqiz, which leaves me with a profit of... 
'Are ya happy now?! Stealing my livelihood out from under my nose?!' 
Startled, Ruadh glanced up at a pair of large green feet, the right one tapping in irate staccato upon the wooden planking. She looked up further to find herself within splattering distance of a furious Wigcik. 'Hawking yer froots duh mare and thiefing the bread off my table, ya ought ta be ASHAMED!' 
Ruadh surreptitiously swept her sleeve over her chin, shuddering imperceptibly. Yeesh. 'Do I know you?', she ventured. 
'Know me?! Know me?! Why, I oughta...*ACKK*' 
She watched Wigcik's face with rapt attention as he thumped his chest frantically; she had never seen green on green puce before. Puffing out his chest and gesturing expansively at his person, he explained. 'I, missy, am Wigcik Himself, part-owner and proprietor of the Savage Coast Fishmonger Company.' Wigcik paused for dramatic effect. 
Ruadh's only response was the wry rising of an eyebrow. 'And?' 
Somewhat deflated, Wigcik soldiered on. 'I am also the sole supplier of seafood to the Blowhole, and yer little venture here,' he gestured contemptuously at the steambaskets, 'is discommoding me to the tune of 23% of my monthly profits! 23%!! Ya've got ta close - today.' 
Who the fel was this arrogant chamberpot of chump? Thought Ruadh. Whoever he is, this stops here. Now. 
She drew herself up to her full formidable height and affixed Wigcik with a stare that bespoke the primeval terror of darkness and the futility of flight. Of dying shrieks silenced by the inexorable snap of teeth and talon. He abruptly found himself fighting the urge to turn and run. 
'So you're of the opinion that I should close down because I'm attracting some of your clientele? Well, 
answer me these questions ere your arguments turn as weak as your knees, goblin. 
'Do I fish where you do, and curtail the size of your catch? 
'Do I model my menu off yours, and desecrate my product by sentencing it to the indignities of batter 
and hot oil? 
'Do I actively solicit custom from your clients and attempt to subvert their craving for seafood?' 
'B-b-b-but l-l-look at it!' Wigcik pointed weakly at the remains of her breakfast. 'It's...it's...healthy!' 
'You have no answers, and therefore no argument. Quite frankly, you have nothing.' Ruadh replied quietly. 'Kindly let me alone.' 
Sputtering with rage and embarassment, Wigcik stormed out of the Old Port Authority in a huff. 'Ya'll be...sorry...nelf! There's...peeps...out there who...ain't as...nice as...I am!' 
Ruadh's lips twisted in a moue of distaste. <I>I swore - by my life and love of it - that I will never live for the sake of another, nor ask another to live for mine. In a word, feck off, greenarse.</I>
=Chapter Four=
:-by Krelle
Krelle carefully hid her amusement as Wigick gesticulated wildly. She paid close attention to his concerns though - her immitation of him in the back room yesterday had gotten applause and she was happy for more material. 
"...and then she threatened me! Me!" 
An eyebrow went up. "What'd she say?" 
"Well it... she - it wasn't what she said but how she said it, really." 
"Oh, one of those," Krelle said blandly. "I getcha." 
The goblin nodded furiously. "And then she refused to close! Said I had no argument like we were in some kind of debate! She can't just open up a business, selling her healthy stuff and stealing my customers - that's unethical, that is!" 
Krelle was endlessly fascinated by the use of the word "ethical" by goblins. They seemed to be unable to use it as anything aside from a synonym for "profitable". 
"Tell you what, Wig," she said. "I'll have Von go chat with her, ok?" 
Wigick's eyes opened apprehensively. "Von?" 
Krelle nodded in feigned seriousness. "Yeah. He'll tell her how it is." 
Wigick deflated. "That'd be just fine Miss Krelle, just fine and dandy. Thank you for your time I'll just let myself out then shall I..." 
Krelle waited as his steps receded down the hallway before she opened her bottom drawer. Inside was a sack of steamed prawns. They really were much better than the kind Wig made. Oh, Von will talk to her all right, she thought. How interesting that the patrons of the Blowhole seemed to prefer these dishes to the goblin's. She really had never realized they could possibly have any kind of good taste. They were patrons of the 'hole, for light's sake. 
Krelle popped a prawn in her mouth and grabbed the bag, going to look for Von. He was around town somewhere - she'd try the smoke shop first, knowing him. 
=Chapter Five=
:-by Tai Jiang
It had been another banner day. Ruadh had been working hard, filling bowl after bowl with steamed morsels of seafood. Better dig more clams. Those are really moving. Offering melted butter was a good idea, she thought. The cover clanged as she sealed the steamer and began another batch. She heard someone come up to the stall and offered over her shoulder without looking, "Be right with you." 
- - -
Tai watched the previous customer wander off with a bowl of still steaming shrimp. Tai walked up to Mizk, putting a friendly hand on his back, "Beautiful day Mizk. Why don't you go enjoy it, eh?" Mizk paused, clearly reluctant. He looked into Tai's eyes and sighed, "Yeah ... alright. I could use the fresh air." Tai smiled and patted the man's shoulder, already turning to the elven woman who was busy with her cooking device. 
- - -
Ruadh turned now, surprised to see Mizk walking away from the stall. Her brow knitted, she turned to the customer, a human, older, swarthy, bald and well dressed, "What can I get you?" She waited as the man looked over the menu she'd tacked up, wiping her hands with a clean rag. The man took his time deciding, finally saying without taking his eye off the menu, "I'll take a bowl of the limpets." Ruadh was impressed. Not many ordered them but she offered them because they were delicious. The man finally turned to her, flashing a smile at her, "Been a while since I've had those. We called them sweet meats back in Boralus." Ruadh nodded, "Never heard them called that but you know your seafood. One of my favorites." 
She began putting scoops of the tiny molluscs onto one of the steamer baskets. The man leaned on her stall, watching her work, looking thoughtful. He spoke, his tone neutral, "Quite an operation you have here. Very impressive." Ruadh nodded politely; she'd heard that more than once today. He continued as she put the basket into the next steamer, "You thinking of making this a permanent arrangement?" Something in his tone made her look up. She frowned slightly, shrugging slightly, deciding against answering the question. 
As the limpets cooked, the man chatted amiably. When the timer chimed, she opened the steamer and scooped out the limpets into a bowl, offering the man a small dish of melted butter. He waved a hand, "Ah, no thank you. I prefer them as they are." He took the bowl, and wafted the steam towards his nose, taking in an appreciative breath, "Mmm ... wonderful." Instead of walking away as most customers did, he put the bowl down on the counter and began pulling the steamed meats from their shells, and popping them into his mouth. Ruadh smiled as the man did a double take, followed by his eyebrows going up in surprised delight. Hooked another one, she thought to herself with a smile. 
Ruadh took a cloth and began wiping down the steamer. The man spoke again, "These are good. The rumors are true." He said this with a smile, and then continued, "Of course, Booty Bay is a dangerous place unless you know which green palms to grease." Ruadh looked up, frowning again. The man was studiously looking at his bowl, as he continued to pick the pink flesh from the shells, "Just saying. A stall in the Port Authority isn't the most secure location. Might be good to see if any of the seafood dealers here in town might be willing to work out a deal with you. Get a secure spot to do business and maybe even do more business." Now he looked up at her, smiling as he popped one of the delicacies into his mouth, waiting for her answer. 
=Chapter Six=
:-by Ruadh nic Arthuaine
	The sun lowered its face lovingly to the ocean's in a dazzling display of umbers and crimsons, cobalts and azures. Amidst the ebb and flow of the tides, a lone seagull foraged, its sharp beak darting astutely to and fro. Food. A last scintillation of sunlight drew its beady eyes towards a patch something green and fur-like in the sand. Food? It swooped closer to investigate. And squawked in terror as the sands shifted suddenly beneath its feet.
'Bog off!' snarled Ruadh, her salt-reddened eyes blazed with the unspoken promise of grievous bodily harm. With a final squawk of indignation, the gull wheeled and winged away into the rising darkness. 
She began to extricate herself from the tightly-packed sand about her, swearing colourfully as her sore muscles throbbed in reproach. Her stomach cramped painfully as she brought up welter after welter of seawater. Spent, she jerked her feet free and flopped over onto her back with a rueful sigh. Argh! What the -
Her questing fingers closed upon a somehow familiar shape. A rock, made porous by the daily ministrations of salt, sand and surf yet serviceably solid for all its lightness. It had shark's teeth embedded firmly in it. 
----
	Ruadh's lungs burned as she dove deeper into the depths of the ocean, ignoring her body's pleas for air. In the endless expanse of blue ahead of her, broken only by branching fingers of coral stretching for the surface, she replayed the morning's events in her mind.
'...Booty Bay is a dangerous place unless you know which green palms to grease...' His punctilious voice echoed irritatingly.
He knows what he's about – with a voice and manner thus. Accustomed to obedience, or at the very least, compliance. But will it be worth my while to dance to his tune? 
With a practiced flick of her flipper, she sent a cluster of mussels tumbling into the net she carried. A brief foray into a hidden cavelet yielded a small school of sweet shrimp, and an overly curious lobster was unceremoniously bundled alongside its erstwhile neighbours. Sea urchins, assorted shellfish, floating clumps of seaweed; the sea proffered rich bounty indeed. She swam on, deep in thought.
'Any of the seafood dealers here in town' in all probability refers to that green puffball. There can be no greater incentive save the security of his position that would prompt him to try to oust me from mine. So I am to suffer his indolence by the strength of my labours.
Telltale swirls on the oceanbed indicated eelsign; Ruadh thrust the stranger's sardonic smile from her mind and skimmed the sand, searching. She whirled in surprise at the sharp pain in her near hind flipper, teeth at the ready. And found herself staring into the gimlet gaze of the biggest shark she had ever seen. 
Ruadh bared her fangs and sunk them deep into its browbone, narrowly missing its eye as it feinted sideways, her flipper held fast between its jaws. Twist as she might, she could not turn far enough to deliver the crucial attack. Sensing her vulnerability, the shark began to weave its great head from side to side; her agony intensified as she felt its teeth grate against the bones of her flipper. 
Stifling her pain, she Changed. For one blessed moment, the excruciating pain ceased as her foot floated free between its jaws only to have them clench inexorably about her ankle. Black began to blossom at the edges of her vision as she flailed wildly at its battle-scarred snout; her blows were as the caress of the undersea currents against such a leviathan, victor of numerous battles against larger adversaries than she.
Groping blindly about her, her hands closed about a solid mass on the ocean floor. The Light stiffen you, you Scourge-eaten b*****d! She brought the rock crashing against the side of its grizzled head with a satisfyingly sickening crunch. Darkness closed upon her.
----
	The recollection brought on a fit of uncontrollable giggling. Oh fel...Ruadh sputtered painfully as her sore stomach spasmed and heaved up more seawater. Coughing in mingled discomfort and mirth, she dug around in her oilcloth pouch and produced a rather crumpled cigarette. 
Practiced fingers straightened it into some semblance of smokability and soon thin coils of smoke billowed from her nostrils as she inhaled deeply. Well, it seems we have three unequivocal conclusions to hand...Firstly, tonight's special will be special indeed; secondly, a new macehead would not go amiss. Thirdly, an audience with certain parties is in order.
Ruadh flicked her cigarette into the surf with a scowl. Picking herself up, she began to walk back into the sea. Fourthly, it appears I have not only earned the right to question why but the unenviable privilege of the doing and (half-)dying as well. 
=Chapter Seven=
:-by Tai Jiang
Keldu, tall and bulky like most Tauren, stood looming behind Lurne. As the night elf glad-handed the goblin guard, Keldu’s gaze scanned the docks outside the Port Authority, watching for trouble. It was late and this part of the waterfront was pretty quiet, but Keldu had been around long enough to know that was precisely the time to [b]not[/b] let down your guard.
“Yeah,” the Tauren thought to himself, his mouth forming a wry grin, “as if there’s ever a time …” He glanced back to the goblin and night elf, and wished they’d hurry up with their dickering already. The sooner they got in, the sooner this was done and the sooner he could get that drink he was thirsting for.
----
Lurne, meanwhile was doing what he did best, trying to negotiate a fair price with the guard here for him to happen to take a walk down to the far end of the Port Authority. The trick with goblins, of course, was with the large disparity between what they and anyone else in the known lands thought of as ‘fair’. As one of the Tong agents in Tanaris, Lurne was all to familiar with such dealings.
Still, Jiang had fingered Lurne to go with the Tauren and he was going to make the most of it. It had been ages since he’d been able to get out of Gadgetzan, and, if while taking care of a family matter here in the Bay, he could capitalize on an opportunity and do a bit of heavy work for one of the bosses, so be it. Lurne had the laziness typical of the long-lived, but was not one to pass up an opportunity dropped right in his lap.
In the end, the guard agreed, but it had cost Lurne half a gold more than he hoped and the trouble of putting in a good word for the guard down at the Hole. Lurne shrugged lightly as the guard ambled off, thinking maybe he needed to get reacquainted with the going rates for graft outside of Gadget. Looking back to Keldu, Lurne nodded and in the Cant said, “Alright, we’ve got half an hour.”
----
Keldu brought the butt of his shotgun down on the lock, splintering it. The guard was going to need evidence of break in, and Keldu was happy to oblige. Pausing a moment to see if they’d been noticed, the two then slipped in pulling the door shut behind them. The Authority was dim but there was enough light to find their way. Jiang had said the woman’s stall was down at the end.
Seemed the woman wasn’t playing the game and ponying up her protection ‘dues’. To add insult to injury, she was cutting into the fish shop’s profit. Jiang had not seemed pleased. He’d tried nice, he’d claimed. Now it was time to get serious.
So their job was to find and smash up her cooking devices, these steamer baskets. From what Jiang had found out, they were handmade and might take some time to replace. Way they figured it, they could blame the goblins and give this woman a bit more incentive to consider paying her protection fees.
“Here it is, long ears,” Keldu said quietly, grinning and nodding towards the stall. Lurne grimaced, but held his tongue. The elaborate baskets were stacked and cleaned, drying for the next day’s business. Keldu reached across and grabbed one with his large hand, tossing it to Lurne, “Here, have fun with that one – and remember; the boss said make sure it can’t be repaired. If this dame is selling fish tomorrow, chances are we’ll be sleeping with their brothers and sisters by tomorrow night.” Lurne couldn’t see Keldu’s grin in the darkness, but wasn’t inclined to screw this up anyway. It was work like this that got you noticed, Lurne thought, as he unclasped his hand axe.
As Lurne began to chop the bamboo steamer basket into pieces, Keldu put his shoulder against the neatly stacked cart and pushed, tipping the cart over on its side with a large crash. The woman’s cooking utensils, her containers, the bowls … all of it was on the floor. Keldu began methodically crushing these various items under his hooves, picking up the other basket, which had ended up on its side on the dirty floor. He swung it hard against the floor, the basket collapsing with the force. To be sure, he kept smashing it, watching as the basket was obliterated.
Lurne smiled, tossing away what was left of the basket he’d been working on, and now taking his axe to the overturned cart. Yes, he thought, this would show her alright – and maybe finally get him out of the desert …
=Chapter Eight=
:-by Ruadh nic Arthuaine
Ruadh stood before the shambles that was once her stall. The steamers, utensils, even the very cart that held them had been reduced to kindling. Holding a fragment of the wood in one hand, she surveyed the extent of the damage. 
Clever. Expose the soft white underbelly and close in for the kill. There's a clear message here: Pay up, or else. 
'Well, if there ain't anythin' else, I'll be closin' up now. Got any more of those prickly black thingies? Those were...' Mazk's grating tone tailed off into silence. 'What in the fel happened here?! Whose saucer of cream did you kick over, girlie? I ain't one to say I told you so, but...' 
She whirled and transfixed him with a look that strongly advised him to keep his own counsel on the matter. 'Leave me.' 
'Eh, I'll just be goin' now then.' He backed away slowly, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. By the Baron's tallywhacker, me heart didn't half jump up me gullet. She's in a world of trouble if she don't wise up. 
Ruadh shut her eyes and gripped the bridge of her nose betwixt thumb and forefinger. 
There can be no doubt as to who is responsible...merely not the slightest evidence of their involvement. To be fair, I'm hardly astonished. But I am more than a little annoyed. 
The chunk of wood in her hand buckled and splintered in her grip as she evaluated her situation. Her eyes opened suddenly and she flung it amongst the detritus in the midst of which she sat. Glancing about furtively to ensure she was not watched, she stalked behind a pillar and Changed. 
A large bear emerged in her place, its claws clicking on the wooden floor as it wound its way through the shattered ruins of the stall. Growling softly, it lowered its nose to the ground and began to sniff, searching. Suddenly it stopped. 
A Night Elf. And a Tauren. Gunpowder and beastscent. Hunters both. 
The bear made its way back behind the pillar and Ruadh stepped forward, a small, tight smile etched on her face. Vaulting a stack of crates, she rummaged in Mazk's box of odds and ends, extracting a quill and a sheet of parchment. Settling herself cross-legged on the floorboards, she began to write. 
'Mazk, 
I will be gone awhile. 
With the enforced 'closing' of my stall, I am journeying to the Wetlands to obtain replacement materials. Do you gather and sell the wood that is left, you will find that the amount more than meets next month's lease. 
Should any patrons enquire as to its reopening, convey that it shall be soon. 
Ruadh' 
Her missive completed, Ruadh rose to her feet, pausing only to place it beneath his toolbox. She spent the short walk back to her quarters as if in a dream. The sounds and smells of the Bay faded into the background as she retreated within her mind. 
Tai Jiang persists in shielding the truth of the matter though he surely knows that I will not proceed blindly. Very well. Perhaps his lackeys will be more cooperative. 
She tightened the strap of her oilcloth pack about her and dove off the docks into the moonlit ocean.
Category:Stories 
Category:Ruadh nic Arthuaine
Category:Krelle
Category:Taijiang