Greyhawk - Casefile: The Missing Shipment of Hides

The sun beat down like a merceiless slave overseer, lashing my bald head with streams of searing heat as I stood on the elevated wooden street of Booty Bay, standing outside the tunnel that was the only footpath to the Stranglethorn Jungle.

It was a long walk to Stormwind.

Booty Bay is masquerade of a city by a camp of pirates, located at the southern tip of the Strangethorn Jungle. While the largest band of pirates in the city were the Blackwater Raiders, a loose consortium of pirate captains, any independant pirate vessel could shelter in the cove - unless they were members of the rival pirate confederation known as the Bloodsail Buccaneers, who were the rivals of the Blackwater Raiders for control of the Cape of Stranglethorn  The city was built against the rock walls of the sourrounding mountain which kept it seperate from the rest of Stranglethorn, and was basically one very large pier, with multiple levels connected by ramps.  

While not precisely lawless under the nominal rule of Revilgaz, it was a pretty wide-open place. Pirate captains brought their booty here, and the Baron's arrangement with the Steamwheedle Cartel ensured that the goods were properly trans-shipped to new owners.  

It would not be inaccurate to call Booty Bay a fencing paradise, which is why I had ended up here. Defias Brotherhood, Horde and Alliance freelancers, pirates... all of them came here to get rid of their mis-appropriated merchandisse.  Drugs illegal in civilized society were openly sold. Slaves taken by raiders from all over Azeroth ended up being sold here. 

Not a church of the Light in sight, as far as the eye could see.

It was not surprising that I had tracked a missing shipment of leather hides here. 

I had been hired my a gentleman named Cronus in the Felhound's Rest in Stormwind. He had made arrangements for the hides to be delivered to craftsmen in Ironforge for some project or another of his, and when he and his folk had met the incoming ship bearing the shipment from Ratchet, the hold was empty of the hides. Cronus had hired me to look into it.

The last known physical sighting of the shipment had been on the docks at Ratchet, where the cargo had been verified and signed into the Bill of Lading.  The Bill of Lading had the signature of Wharfmaster Dizzywig, and stamped with the customs seals. 

All of which meant very little.  Ratchet, like Booty Bay, was a goblin town. Some distance up the coast from Theramore on kalimbor, Ratchet was smack in the middle of the Horde in the Barrens, surrounded to the north by Ogrimmar, to the west by Crossroads, and to the south-west by Thunder Bluffs. Ratchet was run by goblins, and goblins really only had one deity - profit. Anything that anyone would ever want to buy — and plenty of things that no one ever wants to buy — can be found from the shops and street vendors. Casinos, playhouses, brothels, fine restaurants, taverns, tearooms, bath houses... The head goblin, Gazlowe, made sure that everyone was safe to spend their coin, on whatever their heart desired. Goblin watchmen were quick to put down conflict and make sure the visitors played nice with each other... or disappeared, their remains sunk in the bay to feed the colorful fishes and crabs. 

Everything in Ratchet has a price.

So I caught a griffon to Menethil Harbor... and had a delighful dinner with a lady who was either a former Defias Brotherhood member or a spy for them.  I placed a silent wager on her being former; she was wearing the boots that the Defias wore, especially made for sneaking, but with steel toes for kicking a foot-sized hole in their opponents. She also had sense enough to cover the Defias cog tattoo. A spy would have not dressed n battle-scarred leather and would definatgely not worn the telltale Defias Boots. Unfortunately, while dinner was delighful, I had a ship to catch to Ratchet, and dide waits for nobody, not even a human/dwarf halfbreed private investigator.

The ocean voyage was long and tedious, but at least I didn't have to worry about anyone wanting to slit my throat and throw me overboard. You have to look for the bright spots in life.

I found Wharfmaster Dizzywig on the docks.

"Hey Dizzywig... My name is Davros Greyhawk, and I have been retained in the matter of a missing shipment. I have some questions about a shipment which left the docks three weeks ago.  Got some time to talk about it?" I asked, grateful for my goggles which filtered out the glare from the water. 

"Tme is money, friend" he said, taking care to look busy, checking his the paperwork on his clipboard.

Wharfmaster Dizzywig

"Yeah, money is kind of the point, 'friend'" I said.  "I got the Bill of Lading here that says you verified the cargo of hides.  It has your signature.  It has your custom stamp.  But when the ship carrying it got to Menethil Harbor, the cargo was not in the hold...and I checked. There was no sign of it ever having been in the hold.  No large holes where a shipment might have been, and the ship's cargomaster doesn't have a memory of a shipment of hides."

"So?  My paperwork is all here, and in order," Dizzywig snarled, defensively.

"Are you telling me the shipment was loaded onto the ship?  Are you telling me that the customs duty was paid?" I asked, wanting to verbally confirm what the paperwork I had in hand had certified.

"If that's what the paperwork says, then that's what happened," Dizzywig confirmed.

"Good, I wanted to double-check... and I apologize," I said.

"Don't worry about it kid... wait.  Apologize?  For what?" questioned the goblin.

"You mean, you don't know?" I said, my voice filled with incredulosity.

"Know what?" asked Dizzywig.

"Those hides that went missing... they were headed to Ironforge, to be made into black leather armor, a special order for some noble in Stormwind named Gregor Lescovar... then they was going to be shipped to Lakesire, and insured in case of 'theft'. Good thing too, because the Defias Brotherhood loves to find weapons and armor shipments that match the stuff they carry." I winked at Dizzywig. "I'm sure that when I report back that your paperwork was in order, they won't mind that you diddled the Bill of Lading to misdirect the shipment." I leaned in close to his weating green skin, and whispered "Booty Bay? Is that where you sent the leather hides? I suppose pirates need armor too..."

"I... uh..." he stammered as I turned and walked away.

"WAIT!" he yelled before I had gone less than ten yards.

"Greyhawk.. friend Greyhawk..." he began. "Maybe we can come to an understanding...sometimes, you know, sometimes there are some shenannigans in the port, of which I am completely unaware, and not responsible for, right?"

"You mean... some illegal activity?" I gasped. 

"Sometimes, cargo gets pilfered after the paperwork... it can be a real problem," Dizzywig explained.

"I see... that would be a problem, and the Captain of the ship woud be screwed, unless he had insured the cargo," I answered. "Shame that the Captain works for Lescovar... and has already rigorously... questioned," I feigned sorrow. "He claims he never got the hides... so that means that Lescovar... Count Lescovar, that is... might have to send his special interrogator here to 'rigorously question' you.  Like I said, I apologize." 

"Isn't there anything you can do to help me?" Dizzywig whined.

"I can tell Marzon the Silent Blade that you were very co-operative?" Dizzywig moaned. "Ot, if I knew who had stolen the hides, I might just send Marzon to see him instead... if only I had a name, and where to find him..."

"Well, I don't know nothing about any crimes I might have been complicit in" explained Dizzywhig, painfully earnest. "But the word on the street is that some guy named Darokin Stone operates the ring out of Booty Bay.  That's all I know!"

"Well, its thin... in fact its dwonright anorexic... I should just keep to the facts. That way I don't get Marzon coming to see me instead," I said. "After all that would waste my time... and time is money, as you said."

"How much?" pleaded Dizzywig.

"How about you buy me a berth on the next ship to Booty Bay?" I said.  

So let me be straight here - I was not taking a bribe. I was letting Dizzywhig fund the next stage of the investigation.  I mean, clearly someone had crossed his palm to falsify the documents, so it was about as much justice as I could get, soaking him for the expenses to travel to Booty Bay.

So to Booty Bay I went, but when I got there, I could find plenty of people who knew a smuggler named Darokin Stone, but noboy knew where I might find him.

The fix was in. I don't know how, but someone tipped off Stone that I was coming. 

The only thing I could do was to make my report, and start walking home.

Through a troll-infested, ruins-encrusted sweltering pesthole with mosquitos the size of falcons. 

On the brighter side, I could add the days I spent walking to my fee.

A guy can work pretty damned hard for 20 silvers a day plus expenses.