Daedraug
03-26-2008, 09:07 AM
He saddled up to the tall Kaldorei at the corner table, his breath reeking of drink and stew. An old man by human standards, his fingers scraped like a millstone as he gave a rough scratch to his ragged beard. The grime on his skin darkened the already grim shadows below his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak, a self-sure grin twisting at the corners of his lips before the night elf ripped it away by beginning.
"In these years you have never given me so much as a shred of something remotely useful, much less worthy of coin," Daedraug growled over the mug of his ale, frozen in mid-lift, "and yet hear I am with my purse full waiting on you well passed our meeting time." He took a slow drink, setting the mug on the table softly before finally turning his golden eyes on the old man. "At this point, I must say I'm hoping you've wasted my time. Taking it out of your hide will be a far greater joy to me than whatever else you might offer."
The old man swept the knitted cap from atop his head with a filthy and pressed it to his chest, tangled strings of iron-colored hair falling freely in front of his face. "No no, sir, no no. This one's one you'll be wanting I measure. Something real personal to you and yours."
Daedraug hefted the paired daggers from their spot on the table and pushed the wooden seat facing him out with his boot.
A soft, dry laugh crackled out of the old man's throat and he took the seat, brushing a fly away with his cap as it buzzed his overly large ear. "Good choice, sir. A good choice." He leaned into the lamplight, hissing a whisper through broken, yellowed teeth, spittle misting onto the table.
"In these years you have never given me so much as a shred of something remotely useful, much less worthy of coin," Daedraug growled over the mug of his ale, frozen in mid-lift, "and yet hear I am with my purse full waiting on you well passed our meeting time." He took a slow drink, setting the mug on the table softly before finally turning his golden eyes on the old man. "At this point, I must say I'm hoping you've wasted my time. Taking it out of your hide will be a far greater joy to me than whatever else you might offer."
The old man swept the knitted cap from atop his head with a filthy and pressed it to his chest, tangled strings of iron-colored hair falling freely in front of his face. "No no, sir, no no. This one's one you'll be wanting I measure. Something real personal to you and yours."
Daedraug hefted the paired daggers from their spot on the table and pushed the wooden seat facing him out with his boot.
A soft, dry laugh crackled out of the old man's throat and he took the seat, brushing a fly away with his cap as it buzzed his overly large ear. "Good choice, sir. A good choice." He leaned into the lamplight, hissing a whisper through broken, yellowed teeth, spittle misting onto the table.