<i><div style="text-align: center">((A thousand pardons for a long reply time - weekend was crazy and this weeks starts' been laden with deadlines - but better late than never.))<br/>
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---​</div></i><br/><br/>Ygrax the contractor was one of the finest goblin mercenary agents Azeroth had to offer – atleast, if you prompted him for his own opinion. It should be noted to his defense that he did rank among the most proficient and well-established, even despite his tendency to inflate his prowess.<br/>But Ygrax was not among the most accepting people when presented with rain: He longed for the sunny beaches of the oil-smothered beaches at Kezan almost daily, and that longing wasn't made any less prevalent what with the downpour he currently was experiencing.<br/><br/>Needless to say, he didn't share the enthusiasm for the downpour with his current client.<br/><br/>The Royal Man-at-Arms Banner with his chosen insigna was already drenched – and it was hard to clench around the somewhat smooth wood of the banner-handle.<br/><br/>Cursed rain.<br/><br/>The goblin contractor blinked the rain out of his eyes, cowering under his profusely saturated brown hood. In concordance with his brown robe, the most unassuming piece of threads he could wear, the only truly remarkable thing about this green-skinned, bald fellow was the ornate onyx-black pipe jutting out of his mouth. Unlit, naturally.<br/><br/>That, and the looming black-scaled Naga that slithered carelessly just an arms-length behind him.<br/><br/>Charscale the Tidefist didn't share the lack of enthusiasm for the downpour with his emloyer.<br/><br/>In fact, it felt energizing: In his serpent-like eyes, the world seemed to sizzle with renewed energy under the watery assault; scents became fresher and easier to discern; where others might complain about visibility, he found it comforting to be welcomed into this wet world.<br/>Therefore, his tooth-filled maw was perpetually warped into a beaming grin that – if one wasn't generally disposed to fear of the Naga – could bring you into a good mood.<br/><br/>The two-some was on their second day of travel – ever since they met off the coast of Westfall, the professionalism and camaraderie they shared was reaffirmed in almost every activity they did – one might even go as far as accuse them as being friends, though the goblin would deny any such “soft-hearted” notion immediately.<br/><br/><br/>“<i>24 POINT 4 percent cut!</i>” Ygrax chided over his shoulder after his momentary grumble.<br/><br/>“<b>Twenty. I'll not be robbed blank by you, Green-ear..</b>” Charscale responded with a voice reminescent of grinding rock.<br/><br/>“<i>Why do you PERSIST the notion to make my day even worse? Yous -know- that I normally take ATLEAST thirty-five or above from my other clients!</i>” the goblin whined, knowing quite well that they'd silently agreed on twenty percent atleast an hour ago – it was just a matter of principle that he atleast tried.<br/><br/>“<b>Because, Ygraxsssszz, compared to your other clientssss, I don't have a tendenccssssy turning up dead. You like me becaussse I get the job done and get you your income.</b>” the Naga said through a half-hearted chortle – he couldn't help but like the vile little thing.<br/><br/>“<i>Twenty-TWO, then! Ach! This is below me!</i>” Ygrax fumed, doing a last feeble attempt.<br/><br/>“<b>Ygraxssssss....</b>” Charscale calmy retorted, his forked tongue causing the hizz.<br/><br/>“<i>ARRIGHT, arright, -arright-! Dammit, you get your eighty. But then I swears, if you die, I'll find me a priest, make an expedition t'find yours body, revive you and beat you dead. And THEN I'll revive you -again- and have you work mah' cut off</i>.” the goblin spat.<br/><br/>Charscale chuckled throughout his monologue – seventeen successful contracts of varying difficulty convinced the curious Naga that Ygrax might actually go do just that: friends as they might be, Charscale was an asset. And goblins went breadth and lengths to protect their most profitable assets.<br/><br/>“<b>I feel loved-...</b>”<br/><br/>“<i>You're not!</i>”<br/><br/>“<b>..but tell me, Green-ears: How did your newesssst pink-ssskin fare for his first contract?</b>”<br/><br/>The goblin threw his arms in the air, groaning for theatrical effect:<br/><br/>“<i>The idiot went and got himself cut open-..!</i>” - Charscale interrupted with a muffled “<b>Ouch</b>” - “<i>..-but worst of all, he survived! The biggest problem was that he didn't get a hint and has been pestering me to give him another chance. He's talentless, I swears!</i>”<br/><br/>The naga sped up and accosted the Royal Man-at-Arms Banner from the willing goblin: When travelling together, Ygrax was charged with displaying the banner in Alliance territory; That way, guards and would-be adventurers weren't allowed to attack without prejudice – mercenaries weren't loved by the Alliance, but with the onslaught of the Lich King and the encroaching Horde, they became a necessary evil.<br/>The banner acted as a passport – if Charscale lost it during his travels, he was fair game: And being a naga, fair game held tight hands with being dead.<br/><br/>Each mercenary contractor had his own distinct icons representing what client they worked for; In this case, it fit the colours of Charscale: A caricatured, draconic serpent-head imprinted in an orange colour upon a black background.<br/><br/>“<b>Then you'd be a kind man to advisssszze the rookie of hissszz chancesszz. Both for your own sake asszz hisszzz.</b>”<br/><br/>The goblin groaned – both reacted, but hardly surprised, when a cloak-clad Stormwind Guard in the distance bawled:<br/><br/>“Halt! In the name of his Royal Highness, identify yourself!”<br/><br/>And thus began a ritual Ygrax knew to death – the goblin stepped forward one-third the distance between the naga and the guards – as there were more, aiming crossbows at both the goblin and the naga – before yelling his response:<br/><br/>“<i>Mercenary Contractor Ygrax of Booty Bay wishes to pass his client, Charscale the Tidefist, into your territory! We bring the Royal Man-at-Arms Banner as proof of good will!</i>”<br/><br/>For a moment, the only thing the duo heard was the calm downpour as whoever the guard was discussed inbetween his subordinates; they hadn't to wait for long, however, as it was a regular occurence – the guard replied:<br/><br/>“Very well! Mercenary, you are to take the Banner and step into the city!”<br/><br/>Ygrax went back to Charscale – extending a hand towards the comparatively enormous serpent, the goblin managed to produce a genuine smile. The naga coiled his webbed hands around the goblins, giving it a firm shake:<br/><br/>“<i>Be careful, huh? While this ain't Ashenvale, I'd rather it'd been a Horde hamlet – them Alliance don't take kind to your sort.</i>” Ygrax gravely warned.<br/><br/>“<b>I'll try not to burn -too- many buildingsssszz. I'll sszee you at the end of the contract, yesszz?</b>”<br/><br/>“<i>You betta' – you're no use to me dead.</i>” the goblin grinned, just a sliver of worry expressed in his tone.<br/><br/>The two reluctantly departed, the large scaled thing slowly grinding into movement towards the barely visible Goldshire hidden behind sheets upon sheets of rain.<br/>As he passed the guardsmen’s perimeter leading to Goldshire, the captain scowled at him through the slits of his helmet, contempt for the mercenary clear and evident. Charscale mused for himself that while he could go about his business, the slightest indication of trouble would be very, very troublesome for his survival chances.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>The bar lapsed into a moments silence when a drenched and imposing Naga barred the entrance – some people had already risen from their chairs, handing for various sharp weapons before they noticed the pesky Royal Banner giving him carte blanche to prance around like he owned the place.<br/><br/>Charscale clucked his tongue after he accredited himself the forty-forth “I ought to strike you down” glance: Alliance settlements obviously didn't take kind to his sort, but this was a cookie-cutter example of barely detained blood-furious hostility.<br/>Oh, he had to be very careful around here; that was for certain.<br/><br/>His first order of business was to get his contract from this “Kneecapper” and get moving as fast as possible: It wasn't uncommon that mercenaries ended up at the wrong end of a blade or a spell since some people just couldn't help themselves. It was, simply said, dangerous to stand around and mock people by existing like this.<br/>The capacious brute of a serpent slowly curled across the floor, a very distinct scraping sound emitted as his scales ground against the wood work beneath.<br/><br/>Dobbins, the moustached barkeep was just another one to notice the alien shape grinding across the floor – yet while a pang of apprehension rose in his guts, he knew better to pass judgement on a customer. The Naga made it so far, and had he but a sliver of intellect, he wouldn’t try any funny business.<br/><br/>“Rainy day, mate. Can I serve you something warm?” Dobbins inquired with a level glance as his hands busied themselves wiping a mug.<br/><br/>The undulating giant slithered to the bar, his neck fins curling and uncurling lazily as serpent-eyes raked across the surroundings – they finally found rest on him. Charscale noticed the tone of which the bartender addressed him and knew instantly that they, at the least, could talk professionally.<br/><br/>“<b>A Wessszzfall Whisszkey.. and make it half boozzzze and water..</b>” the naga ordered in his best attempt at a cordial voice as his hand extracted a well-folded advertisement for Fillets mad adventurers.<br/><br/>Dobbins couldn’t help but express a grunt of surprise, to which the naga managed to shrug his large shoulders. But the bartender didn’t pursue the willing destruction of an excellent whiskey , as the serpent already motioned to pay up.<br/><br/>As Dobbins producured the snake-mans’ spoiled whiskey, he nodded towards Fillet over in the corner:<br/><br/>“Ah, that’s Fillet just over there – room 42 is topside, but I reckon you could go introduce yourself first, seeing you’re-…” – Dobbins knew instinctively he just hinted to the Nagas racial heritage.<br/><br/>“<b>SSzzince sssome aren’t exactly ussssed to the men of the sea waltzzzing in on them. </b><b>Don’t fret, ssssurfacsser…</b>” Charscale nodded with his version of a pleasant smile – mostly coming across as a snarl.<br/><br/>”<b>..I’ll try and be assssszzz approachable assszz posssssible..</b>” Charscale punctuated, a forked tongue lashing into the mug to savour the bitter taste.<br/><br/>With a slow nod, the large man-snake ground around and set course for Fillet, still garnering daggered looks by some of the patrons he passed closely. His scale-clad hand tightened around both his trident and his banner.<br/><br/>As he was within hearing range, he consciously ignored the others assembled around him as an initial gesture, rather going the professional route:<br/><br/>“<b>Charszzzcale the Tidefissst, by the grace of Ygrax of Booty Bay, sssseeks Fillet Kneecapper in responsssse to a call-at-armssszz. The Bartender pointed me to you?</b>”<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>