Phosphoria sweeps a strand of her red curls out of her sight and climbs out of the small window of a large ship that just docked into Booty Bay. She could still hear the satisfying grunts of the ships captain behind her as she wipes the corners of her mouth and grins wickedly at her perfectly well-hidden escape from Central Kalimdor.<i>God, she really hated living there.</i>She casually walked over to the small jungle-seaside town with a cheerful skip in her pace as she suddenly halted before the opening of a rather conspicuous looking tavern. It had been the shadowy figure of a goblin girl giving head that had initially caught her attention, until she suddenly realised the tall and very appetitely looking trolls were watching her jiggling bum as she hopped on by.<br/><br/>Yes, she knew she was quite a sight to see. No matter what her grandparents might say, phos knew that she had inherited best from both worlds, and she certainly knew how to flaunt around with it. In Silvermoon she'd chosen to wear some sin'dorei robes to emphasize the fact she was from a noble family, but not here out in Booty Bay. Across the bloody ocean where she had worked her way inside of the captains cabin to get a ride for free, she'd chosen to wear whatever the hell she wanted. Which was the tightest, most revealing leather-strapped shirt. (If one could call it a 'shirt', most would just think she had strapped a rather wide belt around her plump bosom) With a very frivolous looking skirt made out of the same poor cow that had to die for such a useless piece of armour.<br/><br/>Nevertheless, she thought as she sucked teasingly on her pinky-finger before deciding to go inside, at least everyone could see her excellent taste in haute-couture lingerie now. The purple edges of some kind of expensive looking lace were peaking out above the barely covering clothing on top. The only difference between her and the whores inside would probably be the belt around her waist with a vast array of daggers and knives, pouches with poisons and a long rather tattered old piece of rope.<br/><br/>For a moment she just stood there, inhaling the wonderful mixture of sweaty bodies, stale beer soaking into the old wood with a hint of fish-oil and salty sea-air. She loved it already, and headed without any hesitation for the red-bearded dwarf behind the counter to order a drink that would go well with her current mood.<br/><br/><b>''A mug of your best, and strongest rum please'' </b><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>