Penulis : Keith R. A. D.
Tahun Terbit : 2006
Format : PDF
World Of Warcraft Trademark
An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS
Copyright © 2006 by Blizzard Entertainment
Download :
target="blank">Download Here..
Password : www.chenkwang.blogspot.com
Cover :
Characters (Source=http://www.wowwiki.com/)
Main characters
Supporting characters
Minor characters
Note: These characters were only mentioned or had little to no role during the story.
Locations
(Source=http://www.wowwiki.com/)
Cuplikan :
One
Erik had been cleaning ale off the demon skull mounted behind the bar when the stranger walked in.
The Demonsbane Inn and Tavern didn’t usually get much by way of tourists. Rare was the day when Erik didn’t know the face of one of his patrons. More common was when he didn’t know their names—he only remembered their faces due to repeated exposure. Erik didn’t much care who came into his tavern, as long as they had coin and a thirst.
Sitting down at a table, the stranger seemed to be either waiting for something or looking for something. He wasn’t looking at the dark wooden walls—though you could barely see them, seeing as how the Demonsbane had no windows and illumination only from a couple of torches—or at the small round wooden tables and stools that festooned the floor. Erik never bothered to arrange the tables in any particular pattern, since folks would just go and move them around to suit themselves anyhow.
After a minute, the stranger got up and walked up to the wooden bar. “I’m trying to get some table service.” “Don’t have none,” Erik said. He never saw the sense in paying good money for waiters. If folks wanted a drink,
they could walk up to the bar. If they were too drunk to walk up to the bar, he didn’t want them to drink anymore anyhow, since folks who were that drunk were like to start fights. Erik ran a quiet tavern.
The stranger plunked a silver piece on the bar and asked, “What’s the most expensive drink you have there?”
“That’d be the boar’s grog from the north. Orcs make it, ferment it in—” The stranger’s nose wrinkled. “No—no orc drink.”
Erik shrugged. People had weird considerations when it came to alcohol. He’d seen folks argue about the relative merits of beer versus corn whiskey with more intensity than they brought to political or religious disagreements. If this gentleman didn’t like orc drinks, that wasn’t Erik’s lookout. “Got corn whiskey—fresh batch made last month.”
“Sold.” The stranger smacked his hand on the wooden bar, disturbing some of the nut shells, berry seeds, and other detritus that had gathered there. Erik only cleaned the bar about once a year or so—unlike the demon skull, no one could really see the bar, and he never saw the need to clean a surface that wasn’t visible.
Regards,
0 comments:
Post a Comment