Pocket Lint, and all of it’s Wonderful Uses

Wow, I wonder what could be made from this! Perhaps a dust bunny, or two!

Qutey brushed a strand of her coarse hair out of her eyes, the straw-like quality it had was becoming ever so annoying as she trekked through the region doing various odds and ends for whomever required her services. The goblin sighed. It was not exactly how she had envisioned her career as a pick pocket. Not that she really had pictured any sort of career from her talents – if they could be called that. The sun was setting, and she was ending yet another task that was required of her. All this to prove herself in the eyes of someone else who just simply didn’t matter that much.

She trudged up the kill, and glanced to the sky, asking for patience.

“Are you Qutey?” a raspy voice asked from her side.

“Err..” She stuttered, knowing very well she’d not given out her name. One of the first rules, after all.

“The Ancestral Spirits talk of you, whispering of great things you will do..” the voice hissed, and spittle flew from the strangers lips. They glanced at her as though they had very little faith in the Ancestral Spirits, and that perhaps they’d been mistaken of this goblin woman who stood hunched over absentmindedly brushing away invisible strands of hair.

“Well.. thanks.. I guess…” Qutey trailed off, unsure of what to say. This person was obviously a lunatic. Her mother had taught her better though, and she kept silent about what she personally thought of the stranger and their odd prophesies.

Finally the one she’d been waiting for arrived, a bunch of notes and papers trailing after them. He eyed Qutey, and got right to business.

“The Legend of Grakkor..” he murmered, eyes glazing over some what. “Tell me girl, what do you know of it.. ” Qutey tried to think back, it had been a while since she’d had any sort of history lessons. She shrugged, letting the newcomer know she knew very little to nothing at all about this legend.

“Ah, foolish child,” he coughed and started shuffling through his bags. “Do they not teach any more these days,” he continued to mummer under his breath, pulling papers out and tossing them towards Qutey so that she was forced to catch them or they’d fall to the ground in the mud. “Read those,” he said with a flicker of annoyance in his voice. “Then you will learn of the Legend of Grakkor, and why it is so important to the clan Martok.” He said no more, and left Qutey standing there wondering after him. She looked at the booklets in her hands and winced. It was going to be a long night.

(( Ok, so the little Rp blurb actually had very little to do with why Qutey likes to pick pocket lint off of people, but it was amusing none the less. I’ve been having a lot of fun with the rogue, she’s now sitting at level 8, with 22 diplomacy. No crafting quite yet. The starter zone is still one of the better ones I’ve seen besides Tanvu. The lore is interesting, the quests are fun, and she’s died a handful of times but it hasn’t bothered me. Game is unfortunately coming down for an emergency patch so I can’t play her too much more right now. ))