RP Adventures: The Shadow's of Caine

Candelion- Part 16

**WE DO NOT OWN WORLD OF WARCRAFT! ALSO, MORE ADULT THEMES**

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Candelion POV

      If you could remain in a perpetual state of drunkenness like Allaster had been in this town, you would appear to be doing well and thriving. I, however, cannot be subdued into contentment by any amount of revelries, substances or false securities.

     Booty Bay was every bit of what I imagined a goblin-ran, pirateering, factionless city to be. Upon passing through a tunnel dug out of the mountainside, reinforced by random bits of metal and planks, we emerged to overlook the bustling city which was nestled into the crescent nook at the bottom of the Eastern Kingdoms. 

     The city was terraced, built up on reclaimed ship lumber and extending out over the bay. Every inch of space was utilized. The shanty-style buildings were crammed tightly together. The docks were massive and operated in a complex dance of imports and exports, bodies moving and hauling supplies of questionable sorts into the bazaars. The most jarring sight was the auctioneers, pawning off everything from weapons to slaves. I didn't hide my upturned lip of distaste from anybody. 

     On a small island just outside the bay stood an enormous statue of a goblin. Capping off the end of the continent were vast, stone walls and numerous canons pointed ominously towards the west like vigilant sentries.

     The Blackwater Raiders were the ruling pirates in this town, enemies of the Bloodsail Buccaneers. Baron Revilgaz was their goblin leader, effectively tying them in with the Steamwiddle Cartel. Captains, swindlers, and merchants alike intermingled below at the Old Port Authority and at the Stranglethorn Trust Bank, but higher up the cliffs stood the more exclusive districts. Beautiful houses with high fences protecting some of the more notorious cartel leaders and those closest to them.

     Caine and I did our best to lay low, at least initially. Though we weren't in hiding here, I still had a pestering notion that we could be recognized. The Booty Bay Journal was most helpful, advertising various job listings and providing the names of those who were wanted criminals with substantial bounty rewards. Our names were absent from the list, surprisingly. 

      While the city reeked of excitement and merrymaking, that didn't necessarily corelate with rest or relaxation for me. Trolls and humans clamored in and out of makeshift accommodations, drunk and in all states of undress. Pickpocketing was pervasive and left unchecked.

      The smells were putrid along the canals and where the currents waned in stagnation under the boardwalks, but the galley kitchens and food stands sold all manner of cultural cuisine, filling the salt-tinged breeze with warm spices and cooked meats. 

      The first three days we'd been almost inseparable, making two trips back to the spot in the jungle where we stowed our reclaimed treasure. We made a pretty copper off the armor pieces, silver jewelry and plates which Allaster had scavenged out of the shipwrecks and skillfully traded and haggled for the best deals.

     The two of us had enough money to established ourselves at the Salty Sailor Tavern. It was not the best of dwellings, but better than most of what the city had to offer. The top of the tavern was made from the bow of a ship, and the bowsprit jutted out over the marketplace. The Baron liked to linger up there, his bodyguards never far away. 

      The early-morning hours at the tavern were the quietest, but the rest of the time the joint was filled with raucous music and sea shanties. Brews flowed freely and smoke filled the closed quarters. Everyone had grueling stories about run-ins with pirates or close-calls out at sea. I used to get pleasure out of watching the nightly entertainment, sometimes led by Caine who radiated mirth and good humor, but I also saw the cynical side of things. The bar fights, red-hot tempers and lewd behavior that comes with this kind of lifestyle.