The room was damp and more than just a little drafty, unfit for anyone to stay. But somehow the tavern in Booty Bay still maintained business despite all the damage from the Shattering well over a year ago. Repairs were slow and the men rebuilding even slower. Yet such inconveniences mattered little to those who were exhausted enough to ignore it, especially those without dwellings of their own. The smooth clack of metal boots weaseled its way through the mess of one particular room. The door was partially cracked open since the guest of said room was wedged in between passed out drunk and without a care in the world. Vaelrin’s attempt to retire to his room ended with him only making it part of the way there. Close enough but certainly no cigar, yet this mattered little to the drunk and the dumb.
“Damn elf…” muttered a gruff voice followed with the sound of clinking glass as he feet swept away the trash. Eventually his attention turned to the fallen at the door. “BLACK JACK, you ol’ beast, get yer ass up!” he bellowed with a swift kick to the Captain’s back. Vaelrin groaned and rolled slowly over the wooden-planked floor, his response nothing more than a grunt and a cough. Slurred words that hardly made much sense left his lips.
“I see time has done ye sum bit of good.” It was the sarcastic voice of a familiar “friend”. His wandering came to an end when he finally made himself a seat at the edge of the raggedy bed. “Tho’ yer new haven could use a bit of sprucin’.”
“What are you…is that?” Vaelrin stammered as he rolled himself into an upright position on the floor. His vision was blurred and his head was pounding, but it wasn’t hard to figure out who surprised him with a visit. Voices rarely changed with years. “You have a lot of nerve comin’ here, Skivvy. “
“An’ you hav’ a lot o’nerve not givin’ me any notice about yer whereabouts. “ Skiv retorted with a boisterous laugh.
Men of the sea came in varying degrees of races and ages. Some held their prejudice and restrictions for their men while others were diverse from trolls to humans. Skiv was among the many who held no animosity towards those who were not of his own kind. A human who’s history was as much a mystery as his nickname and earned his right as Admiral for the crew known as the Red Skulls. Yet age made his face wrinkled and belly protrude from his overcoat. Once copper hair now had a dull look of gray to it, and the coarse hair on his face spoke the tale of a man who loathed shaving just as much as he did. While not much had change in appearances for Vaelrin, it was hard to recognize the man once renowned and one of the few names feared at sea. If there was ever a reason why elves served as better leaders, longevity and youth was certainly a plus. Nevertheless, one knew better than to judge so quickly. Even a frayed book worn from time was still capable of serving its purpose.
Vaelrin finally plopped himself into the seat behind his cluttered desk. A few artifacts and papers were scattered away to make room for a semi-clean glass and what was left of the whiskey he did not finish from last night. The best way to cure a hangover was to drink, of course. “What brings you here?”
“Jus’ a lil’ catch up! Nothin’ wrong with that is there?” he replied with a wickedly toothy grin. Vaelrin knew better than to believe that, but he held off in saying it. “I hear you’ve been playin’ undercover wit’ the Horde folks. Got a sweet deal in one of those mercenary orders in … what’s the name? Sunwill or Sunward, right?”
“Sunguard,” Vaelrin corrected, then chugged a good portion of the whiskey before continuing. “Why is that of any importance?”
“I should be askin’ you that. Weren’t you the one that babbled about hatin’ yer kind or somethin’ like that?”
It was a rather astute point, one that was answered with only silence. Vaelrin quickly washed down the small portion of whiskey from his cup then slowly poured himself another. Skiv gave a grunt and looked off. It was clear that wasn’t up for discussion. “At least you have yer fill of the women. Plenty of fish to leave a man never yearnin’ fer more.”
The elf finally broke into laughter, finally something he could agree on. He rose his glass in cheers before downing the contents quickly. “An’ plenty to go ‘round, but I’m sure you don’t need to know that.”
“O’ course not! What woman daesn’t love a lil’ bit of heavy liftin’?”
Together their voices roared with laughter, that air of awkward lifted with the talk of women and suggestive things. Such was the humor of men with breasts on the brain.
“My men tell me ye got a lot of them hangin’ bout. Can’t get enuff, huh?”
Vaelrin grinned, “Or maybe they can’t.” For it certainly seemed that way with the way the tides were churning.
Skiv simply laughed at the elf’s sense of humor. As witty as ever and quick with his words, not much had changed between now and years ago when their paths collided more than just a few times in battle. A sudden thought made him snap his fingers. “What’s that woman’s name, the one you sent yer men out to grab a year or so ago?”
It didn’t require much memory to know exactly who the plump Admiral was speaking of. His mood quickly soured at just the thought of him knowing about her. Just one of the many reasons he kept her at arm’s length. If knowledge of his feelings came to light to those who loathed him, she served as a perfect dish for vengeance. The tilt to his bottle gave only a few drops of whiskey to his glass. Hardly enough to wash out the bad taste this discussion was now leaving in his mouth.
“I hear she has tits that makes a man go right back into infancy.” Skiv croaked with a surly grin, amused by the stirred reaction of a man that was said to be without a single weakness. Perhaps a few things had changed since they last parted. Now only one voice rung out in laughter while the other sat brooding behind his desk with eyes burning with the energy of left over fel. A sense of humor was only there to things that did not hold significant importance to him. That awkward laugh was cut short when he realized the Captain was not going to budge, and quickly he cleared his throat and gave a wave of his hand in a dismissive manner. Women could be discussed another time.
“Whatever, that’s hardly tha’ reason I’m here” he stated, and the jovial look of his plump little face was quickly hardened to one of serious intent. “Where you lay yer dick is hardly a concern t’me. Not when there are much bigger plans for the two of us to feast upon like gallant kings.”
The change in his tone and demeanor sparked the Captain’s interest significantly, even if his empty expression said otherwise. “Go on.”
“Yer place puts you in a very valuable position, friend. One that can see to makin’ things happen on both of our ends. You need yer ship, an’ I need my riches. Things have been stale these last few months. Shipments scarce an’ people are more cautious durin’ these times.”
Those words brought a quick frown to the lips of the washed-up Captain. It was apparent that the Admiral did his homework before seeking him out. There was no hiding from the wise man and his tactics. Vaelrin was forced to listen, more out of pride than interest. “So what’s yer offer?”
“Find reason to brew a war at sea. Giv’ the men somethin’ to keep their eyes off the port an’ focused on yer lil’ mercenary group. Think about it, Black. You do me a favor by givin’ those dogs a reason to turn a blind eye an’ in return, you gain enough to finish the repairs on that dump of yers called a ship.”
“So you want me to cause a fight for no reason?” Vaelrin questioned with a snort. “Yer dum’er than I thought if you think that’ll work.”
“An’ you’ve lost yer touch if you think it—“
Words were cut off as fists pounded the desk loudly. “I haven’t lost ANYTHIN’!” he snapped in response. The reaction stirred silence between the two men and finally a grin on the Admiral’s face.
“Glad t’see you still got that flare in ya… Firestorm,” Skiv replied with a hearty laugh only to end it in a hard cough into his fist. He cleared his throat and hacked up something wicked before finishing. “But it won’t do you any good playin’ roles you don’t fit in.”
“It’s got me far enough. Enough t’gain yer interest.” Vaelrin retorted.
“Tru, tru’. But for how long? Time’s tickin’ my friend. When the rest of Azeroth gets back t’movin, will you be left in the dust?”
“Nay, I’ll be sailin’ abroad with the rest of the men. You’ll see.”
“Then giv’ the idea some thought, Black. You wanted a solution an’ I’m givin it to you wrapped in a bow. Make use of yer position an’ put yerself back on the maps again. Time waits for no one and certainly not for a Captain.”
With that the Admiral rose to his feet from the bed and grasped for both his cane and his corsair. “I know you won’t keep me waitin’, Black. I’ll give ya some time to let it sink. Yer not a stupid elf. Hell, yer one of the few I can actually respect despite all yer magical shit. Jus’ don’t keep me waitin’ fer too long.”
Vaelrin sat quietly and watched as the man rose to his feet helped with the assistance of his cane and noted the slight limp in his walk. Age had certainly done this once fearless leader in, but where he lacked the strength he made up for with his wisdom and secrets.
As he reached the door to his room, Skiv turned and gave a nod of his head and a tilt of his corsair upon is head. “Until next time, Black!” he bellowed. “Sorry t’leave on such short notice. But if you’ll excuse me, I have a ship to maintain.”
The halls filled with laughter as he left the Captain to simmer in his own bitter hatred at the old man. But even he couldn’t deny that the human made a good point. Things needed to change and happen soon before it was too late. Perhaps it was time he took advantage of his current situation. There was certainly a lot to gain and little to lose.
All he needed was an idea and a plan.