08-20-2011, 12:24 PM
CHAPTER 1: Boredom
Shadovarn leanned against the table in his small Ratchet home. The elf was frustrated. No more did he get the same sense of power over people as he did before. Slaving had become unprofitable and pointless. There were too many slavers now and not enough “good” people to con. It didn’t help that he was forced into hiding, cutting him off from the rest of the world. He only had Netis to control, and she was already docile and submissive to him. There was no more power in it. There was no more thrill from the acts.
He did have gold though. The slave trade was very good to him while he was in it. Shadovarn had spent many days mulling over what to do with it. Soon, it dawned on him, after many days stuck in the small home. He remembered being kidnapped once and forced into a dank dungeon. There, he and others were tortured and subjected to experiments. It wasn’t pleasant to say the least. Though, the sense of power the guards must of have felt was something Shadovarn wanted. He didn’t just want to taste it; he wanted to revel in it for as long as he could.
He was at a loss of how to get the people or even what to do. Sure, he could throw them into a dank, dark dungeon, but that will only last so long. The elf had to do something more lasting, or at the very least, something more exciting. Still, he was at a loss of what to do exactly. First thing he wanted to do was to get out of the hole of a town he was stuck in. “They probably forgot about me by now. I mean, the latest one was some silly priestess. Like anyone cares about them,” the elf chuckled as he peered out the window, his scarred visage staring back in the reflection.
Shrugging, the predator opened the door and stepped out of the dark home and into the city of Ratchet. It was its usual self, a hive of scum and villainy. Around him were the usual drunks and prostitutes, milling about their miserable lives. Most of them slinked away from him, doing their best to avoid the horrid elf. He wasn’t exactly unknown at this point, word does get around. Granted, no one cared about the occasional missing person in this town, except those who’d be his victims. The elf eyed the destitute people, sneering at them. They disgusted him, their lack of power or ambition was unsightly to him.
Seeing them also scared him. In them, he saw his own future and past.
As usual, he went to a small corner in the Ratchet inn, eyeing the various occupants of the bar. Most were sailors and bandits, with the occasional mercenary there. Things were quiet as of late, so there wasn’t much work for them or money to spend on booze. The elf shook his head and brooded even more. It didn’t take him long to finally decide on returning to Booty Bay, nor did it take him much time to buy the boat ticket there. After a few more drinks of liquid courage, the elf walked up the gang plank, carrying his gear in one hand and dragging along Netis with the other.
Sure, it would take some time to get reach Booty Bay, but it was plenty time to plan his next few moves. Besides, that’s why he dragged Netis along on this voyage. No sense going on this voyage without his companion; he did hate cold and lonely nights on the sea. Netis neither complained nor offered any resistance. As usual, she went along with the unstable elf, doing her best to keep him from doing any more harm to others. Not that she was successful.
On the ship, the elf stayed in his cabin, staring out the port hole, “Netis… would it be better… to remind people… I am here… or to stay in the shadows?”
“Hmm?”
Looking over her, the elf tapped the burn scars over his right eye and cheek, “Do you think… they’ll remember me… and what I did…? Or will they… assume I died?”
The draenei gave him a small shrug, “I do not know. I am not them.”
The elf frowned and looked back out the window, “I think it would… be best… for me to stay in the shadows… for now. It’s rather… counterproductive to… provoke the various… white knights… of Booty Bay. They plague you… like gnats. Never organized… enough to be a threat… but still irritating.”
The woman merely tilted her head at Shadovarn, “Then why debate whether or not to make yourself known to them again?”
“It’s… no fun… if no one… fears… me…” The elf smirked and leaned back against the bed, staring at Netis, “It’s… no fun… if it’s… easy…”
Shadovarn leanned against the table in his small Ratchet home. The elf was frustrated. No more did he get the same sense of power over people as he did before. Slaving had become unprofitable and pointless. There were too many slavers now and not enough “good” people to con. It didn’t help that he was forced into hiding, cutting him off from the rest of the world. He only had Netis to control, and she was already docile and submissive to him. There was no more power in it. There was no more thrill from the acts.
He did have gold though. The slave trade was very good to him while he was in it. Shadovarn had spent many days mulling over what to do with it. Soon, it dawned on him, after many days stuck in the small home. He remembered being kidnapped once and forced into a dank dungeon. There, he and others were tortured and subjected to experiments. It wasn’t pleasant to say the least. Though, the sense of power the guards must of have felt was something Shadovarn wanted. He didn’t just want to taste it; he wanted to revel in it for as long as he could.
He was at a loss of how to get the people or even what to do. Sure, he could throw them into a dank, dark dungeon, but that will only last so long. The elf had to do something more lasting, or at the very least, something more exciting. Still, he was at a loss of what to do exactly. First thing he wanted to do was to get out of the hole of a town he was stuck in. “They probably forgot about me by now. I mean, the latest one was some silly priestess. Like anyone cares about them,” the elf chuckled as he peered out the window, his scarred visage staring back in the reflection.
Shrugging, the predator opened the door and stepped out of the dark home and into the city of Ratchet. It was its usual self, a hive of scum and villainy. Around him were the usual drunks and prostitutes, milling about their miserable lives. Most of them slinked away from him, doing their best to avoid the horrid elf. He wasn’t exactly unknown at this point, word does get around. Granted, no one cared about the occasional missing person in this town, except those who’d be his victims. The elf eyed the destitute people, sneering at them. They disgusted him, their lack of power or ambition was unsightly to him.
Seeing them also scared him. In them, he saw his own future and past.
As usual, he went to a small corner in the Ratchet inn, eyeing the various occupants of the bar. Most were sailors and bandits, with the occasional mercenary there. Things were quiet as of late, so there wasn’t much work for them or money to spend on booze. The elf shook his head and brooded even more. It didn’t take him long to finally decide on returning to Booty Bay, nor did it take him much time to buy the boat ticket there. After a few more drinks of liquid courage, the elf walked up the gang plank, carrying his gear in one hand and dragging along Netis with the other.
Sure, it would take some time to get reach Booty Bay, but it was plenty time to plan his next few moves. Besides, that’s why he dragged Netis along on this voyage. No sense going on this voyage without his companion; he did hate cold and lonely nights on the sea. Netis neither complained nor offered any resistance. As usual, she went along with the unstable elf, doing her best to keep him from doing any more harm to others. Not that she was successful.
On the ship, the elf stayed in his cabin, staring out the port hole, “Netis… would it be better… to remind people… I am here… or to stay in the shadows?”
“Hmm?”
Looking over her, the elf tapped the burn scars over his right eye and cheek, “Do you think… they’ll remember me… and what I did…? Or will they… assume I died?”
The draenei gave him a small shrug, “I do not know. I am not them.”
The elf frowned and looked back out the window, “I think it would… be best… for me to stay in the shadows… for now. It’s rather… counterproductive to… provoke the various… white knights… of Booty Bay. They plague you… like gnats. Never organized… enough to be a threat… but still irritating.”
The woman merely tilted her head at Shadovarn, “Then why debate whether or not to make yourself known to them again?”
“It’s… no fun… if no one… fears… me…” The elf smirked and leaned back against the bed, staring at Netis, “It’s… no fun… if it’s… easy…”