Chapter 9

A Few Good Men

The next morning, Stefan and Iyana met up with Haydric on the docks. As the afternoon sun shined overhead, the three of them exchanged greetings and then followed Haydric down to a waiting boat of moderate size, where a group of people were waiting for them. Haydric quickly solved the mystery by introducing them as the crew that would be making the journey to Northrend. They were of all shapes and kinds, but unlike the crazies that Stefan and Iyana had been attracting the day before, these five seemed normal, for the most part.

Fineus Finshtrom, or Finny as he liked to be called, was by far the largest Gnome that Stefan had ever seen. Finny was only two feet shorter than Stefan, putting the Gnome at about four feet in height. He had a small, but wiry frame, his hardly concealed muscles bulging from beneath a tattered, armless vest. Strapped to the leg of his old seafarer pants was a sheathed dagger, the Gnome's only visible weapon. No doubt Finny could handle himself, even without his dagger.

Molgoby Goldplain, like most of the Taurens, was a giant. He towered over Stefan by at least one head, and was nearly three times as wide. He wore a plain, white swashbuckler's tunic that didn't fit correctly around the shoulders, and pants that appeared to be ripping at the seams. But numerous stitches held the poorly-tailored clothing together, allowing the Tauren to operate in a more comfortable environment. It probably didn't matter if his clothes tore; the bulging lumps of muscle was enough protection for Molgoby. The size of the Tauren's hands alone would satisfy anyone's question as to why he carried no weapon. He was a weapon.

The Dwarf, Geraldros Stoneblock, seemed out of place. His black, graying hair was curly and thin, with patches missing like he had chosen to shave while enduring a monsoon. For a Dwarf, his shoulder were not too broad, and his musculature was underdeveloped. His clothes seemed too big on him, and his sunken cheeks made Geraldros look eternally hungry. He would have looked to be one of the most unimposing figures, were it not for the many gadgets that were strewn about his person. Geraldros was literally covered with the inventions of an Engineer, strange contraptions winding along his waist, arms, and legs, odd trinkets hanging from the flaps on his collar and stuffed into the folds of his pants. The Dwarf looked more machine than humanoid.

Haydric introduced their fourth shiphand, a clean-shaven Human by the name of Dresco Hillok. Stefan immediately recognized the colors he wore, a red tunic with pants to match, and pitch-black boots that shined like black opals. As Haydric had said, there were ex-Bloodsail Buccaneers, and Dresco was indubitably one of them. He was a fairly weathered sea man, for his eyes seemed tired and his face was hardened by the harsh weather conditions the pirates sometimes encountered on their illegal escapades. His raven-black hair hadn't dulled, however, and maintained a vibrant youthfulness that his aged face might have concealed. The finely maintained scimitar at Dresco's waist was a sure sign that he had picked up more than just how to swindel a man in his earlier line of work.

The fifth and final member of the crew was another Bloodsail excommunicate. She was a Troll named Lyra'Vontay, no doubt her swashbuckler name that had stuck. Stefan reckoned that in the Troll culture, Lyra was the more beautiful of females. Her hips were curvacious and powerful, and the thick muscle that lined her thighs only added to her amazonian-like beauty. Her red attire showed nicely against her pale-purple skin, a rare hue in the Troll race. Beneath a red bandana, traces of her silvery-white hair whipped about in the growing breeze. She played with one of many daggers that lined her waist, spinning the throwing knife in her delicate, lithe fingers.

"Gentlemen, and lady," started Haydric, "May I introduce our patrons, Stefan Dreis and Iyana Moonbreeze."

They exchanged greetings, though curt. It would take some time for the crew to get to know Stefan and Iyana, and the pair knew there would be a break-in time. They were in for a bumpy ride in the next few days.

"Alright, now that we've exchanged our cheerful hello's, let's get this ship moving. Supplies are onboard, and everything's ready to go. All aboard! Northrend awaits!" said Haydric.

The climbed up the plank-walkway, taking positions over the deck and making last minute checks. A minute later, Haydric returned to the plank, pulled it onto the deck, then cut away the rope that held them to the dock.

"Rope's away! We're loose! Steer us out Mr. Goldplain!"

The Tide Strider slowly pulled away from Booty Bay, heading into the setting sun.

---

Move now! They are departing!

He listened to his master, as he always had. He waited another moment to be sure no one was watching. Then, he peeled out of his hiding place, hearing the clack of his feet against the wooden dock as he sprinted over and up the plank, onto the boat. He ducked into the hold, giving a silent prayer to his master that no one was there. Slowly he crept into the main storage, where few explored for fear of catching something from the numerous mice that found home in the depths of the ship. Once there, he crawled into a particularly dark corner, and sat motionless.

He waited silently, obediently.

In time, my loyal servant, you will be needed. But now, you must rest. When I speak to you again, you shall know it is time to kill Stefan Dreis.