TNG Presents: Booty Bay Shindig

[Mortica]

(( This event will happen Friday the 24th of March at 9pm servertime in the Salty Sailor Tavern in Booty Bay. Although the in-character advertisments of this will be peaceful in nature, I would strongly recommend coming dressed for battle.

It is freeform..do with it/react to it however you want. If everyone just /dances and /waves, I'll consider it a success. If the server gets taken offline due to 500 Horde and 500 Alliance full out war-zoning it, I'll consider it a success also *chuckle*))




Miboz "Inky" Fizgut whistled a happy tune as he entered his little apartment on the upper level of Booty Bay.


"You seem to be in a good mood today dear!" his wife remarked as she greeted him with a peck on the cheek.


"We passed 300 subscribers today..wanna celebrate?" he said as he grabbed her and pulled her closer to plant a big kiss on her lips.


"Oh, you ARE in a good mood!" Shizzy Fizgut giggled.


"Yes, yes.. and Baron Revilgaz is QUITE pleased with the Gazette's progress," Inky smiled, and jingled the bulging gold pouch strapped to his belt.


Shizzy's violet eyes brightened and eyed the pouch appraisingly.


"So where you taking me, oh mighty keeper of the family profit?"


Inky pulled back and slyly grinned at her, one eye arched and the other nearly closed.


"How does the Salty Sailor Tavern sound?"


Shizzy's smile froze in place and her eyes narrowed.


"The Salty Tavern?" she asked a bit too evenly. Her eyes that had twinkled like expertly cut amethyst seconds ago now looked more like dark iron ingots.


It was Inky's eyes' turn to sparkle. "Yes, the rusticly magnificent Salty Sailor Tavern. Feel the warm tropical breeze, listen to the parrots and cockatiels sing, drink the finest ales...Ummmpff!".


Inky clutched the iron skillet to his chest that Shizzy had whacked him with right before marching into the kitchen. Catching his breath, he followed her into the kitchen.

"Awww, honey, my little emerald, my little aquamarine! We're going to have a huge bash of a party at the tavern. All of the subscribers will be invited. It'll be the biggest party EVER to be held in Booty Bay! Everyone will be there. Horde, Alliance, and enough Bruisers to keep the peace!"

Shizzy snorted. "Keep the peace? Keep the peace? You invited a large group of Horde AND a large group of Alliance to show up in Booty Bay at the same time? Have you lost your mind?!" Shizzy emphatically flung her arms out in front of her.

"Calm down, my little pristine diamond!" He said, slowly backing out of the kitchen away from her. "It'll be great, I tell ya! I've already arranged everything with the Baron, Innkeeper Skindle, and Nixxrax..."


"Nixxrax! That no good drunken sot of a gnome's wort! I shoulda known he was involved in this shenanigan. He's gonna make out like greased mackerel on all the alcohol sales. And I'm guessing a few drunks will end up getting rooms, so old Swindle Skindle's gonna be raking in some extra gold pieces as well. So how do you make any profit out of all this, can you tell me?"


Inky grinned. "How does 50% of net profit sound to ya?"

Shizzy closed one eye and paused. "Net?"

Inky nodded. "We figure there'll be some damage to the tavern and possibly some of the nearby buildings if it gets too out of hand. Baron suggested I get a decent cut of the room and board profit since I'll undoubtably be losing a few subscribers that don't bother to come to it prepared for a bit of mischief."

Shizzy smiled at Inky and visibly relaxed.

"How can I help?"

[Mortica]

Mortica rolled out of her guildhall bunker. She stretched and scrathed her head. Yawning, she leisurely made her way into the kitchen.

No one else was awake yet, so she lit the stove and put the coffee percolator on it. Wandering outside she grabbed the paper and went back into the kitchen, grabbed a muffin, and sat down to see what was new in the world.

A small note was attached to the front page that read:


As a loyal subscriber to the Twisting Nether Gazette, you are cordially invited to an informal gathering in Booty Bay at the Salty Sailor Tavern. This event will be held Friday March 24th at 9pm. Come have a few drinks to celebrate our 300th subscriber. Share a few tales or meet others from around the world who have helped support this fledgeling enterprise.

Mortica smiled. Now that sounded like some potential fun.

[zamji]

Zamji awoke to a loud grunt at his side. He opened his eyes, and jumped back to see a gorilla staring at him, it's large nose inches from his. It grunted at him again, and then continued rummaging through his backpack. "Damn apes" he said, pulling out his mace and beating the dumb beast away. The large ape ran off into the forest surrounding him. Zamji made a mental note not to fall asleep in the middle of Stranglethorn Vale before mounting on Gimaja, his large purple raptor and riding towards Booty Bay.

He sleepily made his way through the bleached shark jaw entrance and continued on into the port town of Booty Bay, his feet smacking loudly on the wooden gangplanks underneath him. He walked up to the mailbox, and checked his small compartment. He spotted the latest issue of the Gazette, and smiled, pulling it out and wandering into the tavern.

He sat down with a mug of ale and sipped at it as he opened the Gazette. There was a note on the front. He read it to himself quietly, and a grin quickly took form at the edges of his mouth. There was going to be a party. "Good" he muttered to himself, "I could use a little party to raise my spirits." He turned the page, and read the Gazette, slowly drinking his ale.

[Garbhan]

"Humdrumhmblm..." Garbhan' opened his eyes one at a time to see the smiling face of his Great Grandaughter.

"Morning you old pebble, you!" Her voice, as always, brough a smile to his eyes, as sleepy as they were. She spoke very clean Dwarvish. "We've got breakfast going for you and Snorri and a new issue of your silly Gobbo Magazine has arrived."

By the time Garbhan was dressed and awake the food was on the table and his cousin, Snorri, his wife, Anistha and young Eibhe were waiting for him. A chilled breakfast ale welcomed him. Chilled was of course a relative term. It would be considered room temperature in any human pub. However, it was considerably cooler then room temperature in Ironforge, which usually had Humans sweating during their entire stay.

The food was good and he took his time, the Common issue of the Gazzete was waiting on the other side of his plate. On the front was an advert about a get together for all of the subscribers. Immediately, his thoughts went to the Ironforge Regiment and how they sorely hated to miss a party. It should be a good time. Good for moral to boot.

Snorri, a small slice of bacon halfway into his mouth and halfway into his beard huffed. "How can you read that Greenskin nonsense anyway?"

"Bah! At least I can read, you nancy bandersnat!"

Now, it should be noted, that in Dwarven society, a Dwarf might make some provocative statement, wait for another to take offence, and then start a fight. Surprisingly these things tend to end in good humour, much back slapping and mutual congratulations with honour considered to have been satisfied all round.

And that's just how they spent their morning as Anistha and Eibhe, smiling, cleaned the dishwear.

[Danyxandra]

Danlily read the invitation and bounced on her feet, "Oooh, Party! I'l be there!"

[Mortica]

Mortica rolled out of her guild-bunk with the nastiest headache she had possibly ever had. At least since she had died, she was positive.

She had drank entirely too much bourbon and had been uncharacteristically friendly and social at the Booty Bay Shindig. She vaguely remembered flirting scandalously with some of the undead gentlemen there, and possibly some of the nightelves too. Mortica frowned. She could recall pinching some of the dwarves' butts too.

She shuddered.

No more booze.

Ever.

Again.






The assault on Onyxia went off without a hitch. Mortica found a large jagged sword in the dragon's pile of lost teasures and hefted it back and forth, judging it's weight. It felt deliciously lethal. One of the lore-people in the guild gasped when he saw her with it. Mortica handed it over to him, and he peered at the ruins on it.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked her excitedly.

Mortica shook her head no.

"I think this is Vis'kag, the Bloodletter! A very impressive find!" he handed it back to her and scurried off to inspect other items being found.

Mortica looked at her reflection in the dull bluish blade. The red lighting from the nearby lava flows flickered, giving her image the appearance of life that her normally blue-ish flesh didn't give. The blade sang to her. Blood flowing freely. Her blood, the blood of others. The blade did not care, as long as the blood flowed.

The guild celebrated in Orgrimmar as it always did after a succesful campaign. Mortica waved off all of the alcoholic beverages being thrust at her. She danced and flirted with her comrades as she always did, but she felt distracted. She knew that no relationship would be forged between herself and a guildmate, as the bond of friendship and comradery of war was more important than any feelings that might well up between a man and a woman. But tonight she wished the pleasant banter meant more.

Her heart beat. Her blood flowed. She thought of the people she had partied with in Booty Bay, and she longed for a different type of companionship. She thought of John, her love from that other life. But he was dead. She may no longer be human, but she lived.

And she wanted more.

[Lovely]

Mmmmm....Tasty writing!