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"-This- was your major investment?! YOU SPENT THE GOLD YOU MYSTERIOUSLY GOT ON -THIS-?"

The female Pandaren shouted at the male across the desk, lifting one paw threateningly. The other waved it off, resting both of his own paws behind his head, and kicking his feet up on his new desk.

"Relaaax, cuz. This place'll bring in -way more- than I spent."

"WAY MORE?" She practically shrieked, once more. "WAY MORE?! You spent all our money on an inn in -Rustberg-! All our neighbors are... well, suspicious! No one's going to come here - how is this going to even - You are such an IDIOT!"

At that, the woman followed through with her aforementioned threat, whapping the man repeatedly with her paw - only some of which he manages to lazily deflect.

"Hey, hey! HEY!" Grabbing the woman's hand by the wrist, the dark-furred man slides to his feet in a surprisingly swift motion. He's something of a relatively odd sight for a Pandaren, about as thin and lithe as they come, several scars lining his face, probably from what's been years of mercenary work. "I -made- the money, I -"

"You gambled for it." The woman looks rather unimpressed at this, placing her not captive hand on her hips.

"That's what I said." There's a grin, at that - equal parts sly, cheerful, and in an odd way intimidating, even, the action bearing sharp canines. "I made the money, so I get to decide how it's spent."

She rolls her eyes at the grin, sighing and shaking her head. "Dante, we could've lived well for -years- off of that while we got settled in with the Horde."

"Re-laaaaax. We can live well here. I got the placed furnished, got all the cooking supplies and equipment I need from that Troll I met at poker night, and I already put out a few feelers for merc work with a couple folks. Between that and the bar and grill I plan on openin' here soon, we'll make back the money in no time."

Her expression looks about as flat as a primitive world map, at that. "Live well? One of our 'neighbors' tried to mug me - and what about him?"

"Who?"

"Him." Looking mildly agitated, the woman points to the headless corpse near the doorway they both had been more or less ignoring.

"Oh, him." Releasing the woman's paw, he gives a shrug, flopping back into his chair and kicking up his feet. "I'dunno. He said somethin' about me trying to cheat him. Probably was just tryin' to break in - you know how suspicious everyone around here is."

There's that grin of his again.

Over the course of the following days, fliers spring up everywhere - Alliance and Horde cities both, and all sorts in between.

"Opening soon!

Dante's bar and grill - experience the finest cuisine and best drinks to come off of the Wandering Isle, with the finest chef and-or blade for hire the Pandaren have to offer - Dante himself.

Each week will feature a new, delicious dish, prepared by the chef before your very eyes, at a minimal fee. The drink menu will be wide, and varied, each week, as well.

No two meals will be the same!

Featured in the inn of Rustberg Village, starting October 4th and occuring once every other week, on Thursday at six PM."

Below that, in smaller text, is a disclaimer noting that the chef is not responsible for anyone harmed by the suspicious members of Rustberg village on their way to the bar and grill, but they will offer various forms of summoning and transportation, should it be required for those who don't feel quite up to fighting their way through.

(( So, as an OOC rundown, this event will be occuring once every other week - a nice alternation with the MAGI event. Of course, members of both events are encouraged to go and enjoy the other, on their respective weeks.

Rustberg -is- in Tol Barad, yes, but not a PvP flagged area of it. This will not be an event for PVP, more of a tavern night with a unique menu each night.

There is also the matter of the NPCs - they will not attack you within the building, unless you are VERY low level and stand near the door or far out on the balcony. As such, avoid those areas and you'll be fine!

I'll be arranging for warlocks on either side to provide transportation, if need be. If translation will be needed, I or the AAMS can be dragged to provide. ))

I like this idea. Good luck!

((Ooh, interesting. Remember to slap this up on the dotOrg if you haven't already! :D ))

Really wish I could make it to this.

((Only 85s can visit Tol'Barad unless there was a change I wasn't aware of!))

(( As I think I mentioned, though maybe I didn't, as I'm a tad groggy, I'll be making warlocks available on both sides to summon folk out. I tested it out to make certain that works, with someone far under 85.))

Bump.

More bump.

Taking into account the spoils of the night, Dante couldn't help but feel it had been a relatively productive day.

His bags full of new cooking supplies, and he wasn't out a single copper piece for it all.

Brewfest was a magical time of the year, when people lost their booze money all the time, in a drunken haze.

He liked to think he was doing them a service.

Non-Pandaren should not be drinking like they're Pandaren, anyways. They're far too small.

By the time he waltzed past his fellow residents of Rustberg and made it to his door, it was clear he was in good cheer. Why shouldn't he be? People left you alone, here, to do your own business. No one stuck their fuzzy maw in your business, no one muddled everything up with sticking their paws in what you were trying to do, and no one there to tell you that you didn't wash your fur enough - which he completely did. Just because you went to the Shang Xi training grounds to become a fancy monk -

Wait, what was he doing again?

Oh, right. Keys.

Fumbling around with his bags for a moment, he eventually retrieves his keys, fiddling with the lock. Hm. Upside down. Always was, the first time. Flipping the key, he tried again, to no avail.

Odd.

Oh well, no harm done. He could pick the lock faster than he could figure out if his key was bent, anyways, have this open in just a -

"Dante. We need to talk."

So much for being left alone. Glancing over his shoulder as he got to work with his lockpicking tools, he arched a brow at the big, burly Tauren now staring him down. Brawler sort. Security for the village. They hadn't crossed paths many times.

"Talk? Can it wait? I've got a really important... thing I've got to do tonight. You know how it is. Things, and stuff." He gives a bit of a cheery grin, and a shrug, before returning his attention to the door.

The Tauren slowly approached, at this, pacing back and forth behind the man's back. "I think you'll have plenty of time before you get in to chat." He rumbled, a slight smirk spreading across that long maw.

!@#$.

So much for a bent key. No matter. Could still have this open in a jiffy. Just had to keep him talking. That much was easy. "Alright, I'm all ears - we're neighbors after all, aren't we?" His grin turned from cheery, to %^-*-eating, at that, and he knew it. The bruiser probably knew it, too.

Pausing behind the rogue, the Tauren cast him something of a glare, at that. "Word on the street is you're opening some sort of bar and grill, Dante. That true?" His tone was careful, cautious, and slow - but not because he was on the defensive. It was a threat, and both the men knew it.

"Word on the street, hm? What street?" No dropping that cheery, goofy facade, yet. Allllmost got that lock open. "Y'know, because depending on the street, you -really- can't trust the words on it. I mean, who writes words on streets, anyways? Personally, I find -"

"We found your -fliers.-"

"Oh. -Oh!- You mean thaaaat little thing. No big deal, really. It's cool. More of a... gathering of friends. Infact, did I say bar and grill? It should've been 'Dante's secret club meeting', you must've gotten a misprinted one - "

In one, swift motion, the Tauren slammed his fist against the door, right next to Dante's head. Both the surprise, and the shaking of the door caused the lockpicks to fall from his hands, and out of the doorknob.

"Listen up, you fat bear, when we let you in -our- city, you agreed to keep it on the downlow. Now you're posting fliers, in Alliance AND Horde cities. And you think this is downlow?"

Shaking out his hands and taking a moment to compose himself, he offers the man a slight smile, quirking one brow up. "Aha, heh, heh. Now, I /really/ don't like being called fat, or a bear. I think we can keep this a /little/ more civil -"

"I don't give a %^-* about what you, or your fatass race of bearcubs thinks or feels, Blackpaw. We're taking what you've got in the building for compensation for the trouble you were going to cause us. Now. Get out."

"Heh... Crass." Dante spared one quick glance over his shoulder. There were at least two, maybe three others in the shadows behind him. "You want a bear?" With that, and one entirely bear-like roar, the rogue upped with one sharp-clawed paw, latching onto and clawing into the Tauren's jaw. Pulling him down into eyesight, he glared, and proceeded to roar once more into the man's face before shutting that gaping, fanged maw on the man's ear and -ripping- it off his head. With the claws still lodged into the man's face, he slammed his head down onto his armored knee, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

Before he could whirl around to see what the shadow-stalkers were doing, by this time, he felt a throwing knife pierce the armor on his lower back, just over his tail. Not too deep. Just tore off a guy's ear, too. Blood was running down his maw. Slowly turning about to face his two attackers, whom he could still not see entirely clearly, he chewed once, before spitting out the ear and ripping out the dagger from his back, tossing it down beside the bloodied mass.

Setting one paw forward, he made himself as large as he could, and let loose a terrifying roar from his red-stained, gaping maw, the sound echoing throughout the normally suspiciously quiet village.

After that, silence fell, till he heard the sounds of footsteps once more - those same stalkers shuffling away, rather quickly, by the sound of it. Turning back to face the door, he leans down, and scoops up his lockpicks.

What seems like a few seconds pass, and he has the door open, slinking inside and slamming the door, and re-locking it behind him. Within, his mage companion was waiting.

"Dante? What the hell happened to you?"

"We're going."

"Going? Going where?"

"Not sure yet. Just. Portal, now. Go. Quickly. Grab the stuff."

(( So! OOC notice. Folks convinced me to move it to Pandaria, because Tol Barad is A) Outdated, B) We'd be confined to inside the building to avoid mobs.

Sri-La village, the inn, is the new location.

It's safe, for all levels. As I said in the original post, transporation for lower levels will be arranged if you contact me. ))

(( Okay, since I am incapable of keeping my schedule straight, this is /next/ week.

Don't want to interfere with MAGI, after all, this is to give us something to do when it's /not/ going on, not /while/ it's going on. ))

(( This is tonight! Six o'clock, Sri-la village, in the inn. ))

((I'm sorry, I'd like to attend, but I don't have Mists of Pandaria...))