Avoidance

It was hard finding work.

Kezrin didn't have any references, of course, but not many people were taking the time to check them, anyway. The real problem was the sheer number of goblins flooding the streets of Bilgewater Harbor; it was blessing and a curse. The mob of immigrants provided both anonymity and fierce competition for any job, no matter how menial.

She'd spent the past two weeks picking up day jobs here and there, mostly hard labor helping build the city. She had sore muscles that she hadn't even known existed, and blisters on her hands from where she'd yet to earn calluses.

She was on her way home from such a job (a day spent hauling wood off carts from Ashenvale) and it was already long past dark and the streets were poorly lit.


She needed to find more regular work; her money was running low, and she had to pay another week's worth of rent for the little hovel she lived in. It was on the fringes of the area quickly becoming the city’s poor quarter. The place was barely habitable, and certainly not the place where she'd ever want her sister to find her. It was the kind of place where few people lingered on the streets, or looked each other in the eye.

She cut through one of the alleys to get home faster, keeping her eyes on the ground to avoid tripping on debris. Perhaps she should have stayed among the islands and gone to another cartel rather than risking the Horde.

"Hey, gal, lookin' for some easy money?" a rough voice called out to her, in goblin. Two figures stepped out into the path before her. A seedy male goblin, the one who'd spoken, and the tall, lanky figure of a female troll. She stopped in her tracks, staring wide-eyed at the two.

"Hey, now, I'm not gonna bite," the goblin flashed a smile. "I'm just here to offer ya an opportunity."

"Do ya be speaking' Orcish, goblin gurlie?" the troll asked, in that tongue.

She hesitantly nodded.

"Dat be good. Make it easier."

The alley was fairly narrow where they'd stopped her. She might be able to dash past the goblin, but she'd never make it past the troll's longer reach. Her best bet was to run back the way she came and hope they wouldn't give chase.

"So, waddaya say?" the goblin asked. "Why dontcha come with us? We'll find ya a lot nicer place to live than this dump."

"I, uh, highly doubt that," she stammered. "If would appreciate it if you would just let me go home."

"Don't be so hasty. A refined young lady like yerself belongs in a nice place, dontcha agree? We'll find ya lots of work. Particularly with that hair of yers."

The troll nodded. “Been in demand lately, yeah?”

Kezrin’s hand flew up automatically to touch her locks of white hair. White hair wasn't very common, even among goblins, and very unusual among the races of the Horde. She had considered dying it, but couldn't afford the money.

The troll chuckled at her reaction, and moved an inch forward-

Kezrin turned on her heel and bolted back down the alley. She didn't dare look behind her to see if she was being followed. She was nearly back to the street when she felt the worst jolt of cold in her life, as if she'd been hit by a bludgeon made of ice. She pitched forward into the ground, barely able to throw her arms forward in time to break the fall.

Heavy footsteps walked up beside her, and a voice grumbled, "Ah do hates ta be damagin' da merchandise, so don be runnin' 'gain, goblin gurlie."

The troll mage grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet; she was still too dazed to fight back.

"Dey never get far, do dey?" the troll called, looking around for the other goblin. "Hey, Gruxley, where ya be?"

There was silence in the alley, and no sign of the Gruxley.

The troll reacted before she even knew they were being attacked, throwing up another ice bolt at a shadow that suddenly moved. The troll spun around, dragging her by the arm, attempting to locate the rogue in the shadows. Her head ached from the previous blow and from being jerked around, but her mind cleared enough to send the signal: escape!

She gave a sharp tug, and pulled her arm free of the troll's grasp. The mage looked at her in surprise, but Kezrin didn't move more than two steps backwards before blocks of ice sprang into existence around her feet, freezing her into place.

The momentary distraction was all that their shadowy attacker needed. She watched in horror as the mage suddenly stiffened, rolled her eyes upward with a strange gurgle, and then crumbled lifeless to the ground, a blade buried in her back.

A darkly clad goblin stood behind the dead troll, shaking her head. "Sloppy work. Should've frozen ya into place ta begin with rather than lettin’ ya run." She reached down to pull her blade free, wiping it clean on the troll's robes.

"You just killed that troll," Kezrin said with a trembling voice.

"Would ya prefer I let 'em take ya to a brothel, firs'?" The rogue reached forward to cut off a large lock of the troll's hair, and slipped it into a pocket. "They ain't Toralites, if yer worried 'bout that."

"W-what are you d-doing?" she asked, shivering in the ice.

"Getting' proof fer the bounty, o'course. Takin' the whole head is rather messy. Thanks for lurin' them out fer me, by the way." The rogue looked at her curiously. "I s'pose I should help ya out in return, eh?"

She turned one of her blades, and gave the ice a several sharp hits with the hilt, until it broke away enough to free her. The rogue was smaller than Kezrin originally assumed, though she couldn't judge her age in the dark.

"Where's the other one… Gruxley?" Kezrin asked.

"Don' worry 'bout 'im. He's already taken care of," the rogue said matter-of-factly, placing her daggers back into their sheaths. "Don' even think 'e knew 'e died."

"Thank you for saving me."

The rogue gave her an appraising look again, until she fidgeted nervously. "Gal, as long as ya act like that, yer a walkin' bullseye fer creeps."

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, let's get out of here 'fore the vultures show up." The rogue grabbed her arm and began dragging out of the alley, only slightly less rough than the troll had been. She stumbled along after her.

The rogue didn't stop until they were several streets away, at which point she released her grip and allowed her to walk normally. She rubbed her arm, certain it would bruise.

"Firs' off,” the rogue started to lecture, “The way ya walk. Ya look like yer a rabbit. Stop starin' at the ground."

Kezrin immediately raised her head and looked forward, stumbling on a rock.

"And loosen up, gal. Stop takin' such tiny steps. Walk like ya own the place."

She nearly tripped over her own feet, attempting to imitate that rogue's easy strut.

"Better. But ya still look like a prissy gal."

"I'm sorry. I'll… try harder?"

"… yer hopeless, Goldie." The rogue shook her head.

Kezrin stumbled again at the name. “What did you call me?”

“What, Goldie?” the rogue looked slyly at her. “Perhaps I ought ta introduce myself. Renzly Silvertip.” She pronounced the name as if it should mean something.

“Uh...Who?”

“I said Silvertip," Renzly said quizzically. "Ya don't know it?"

"No…" she replied shakily.

There was a long pause as Renzly considered her. "Oh, even better," she chuckled. “This will be grand, I tell ya. Well, Goldie, you’re makin’ me some money, so I’m gonna give ya some help. Got it?”

“Y-yes.”

“C’mon. Let’s get a bite ta eat. I know a joint.”

Kezrin sighed and followed her new guide to Azshara.

----

In her time at the AAMS, Kezrin had avoided taking assignments to Bilgewater Harbor. She was rather certain that at some point during the year she couldn’t remember, she had lived here, even though those memories had never returned. The city had always given her an odd vibe.

A very large, ’you should stay away from here’ vibe.

She hoped she didn’t regret coming back.