Anna has requested a Friday 500 of her readers, and as a devout (though not frequently posting) follower of the Friday Five, I submit the following below. Many have asked why I bother putting cash into a guild bank. Indeed, many have even mocked me for this practice! The short answer: unlike them, I can rest easy at night, and this is why…
The sole proprieter of Soliloquy Investment Services (Meeting the Needs of the Independent Adventurer Since Nordrassil! ) walked wearily through Ironforge. It never rained but it poured. All of his clients seemed to dump their sales on him at once. Things had been busier lately, too, which was why he’d hired the draenei girl. Really. It had nothing to do with the her dress clung to her ass just so.
Of course, she’d run off a month later to Elune-knew-where, without failing to take some merchandise with her. Azhramael sighed. It had been worth it.
He came to a sudden stop as he felt the muzzle of a boomstick press against his ribs. Incredulous, he looked down at an angry, anxious dwarf.
“All yer gold! Now!”
“I think there’s been some mistake…”
The dwarf bristled. “Dunnae give me that! I see th’ color o’ that fancy tabard o’ yers! Yer one o’ them f’nancy-airs.”
She shoved the gun to emphasize her point. The barrel was ludicrously long for the narrow confines of the alley, but Azhramael had few doubts that firing it would end grimly for him. Reluctantly, he turned out his pocket, and five gold rolled onto the floor with assorted change and a paper-wrapped slice of cherry pie that, in restrospect, probably shouldn’t have been shoved into his pants.
She glanced from the money to Azhramael and back again. “Whar’s th’ rest o’ it?!”
“That’s all I have. My landlord isn’t going to thank you, you know,” he added severely.
“Liar! I seen ye at th’ auction! Ye be thinkin’ me daft?”
Azhramael pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “My dear, I manage large sums of money. That is not the same thing as having large sums of money. The profit margins aren’t as large as you’d think.”
She poked him with the gun again, a greedy and conspiritorial gleam in her eye. “So whar’s yer clients’ money then, eh? Ye won’t be trickin’ ol’ Frieda with yer sly words.”
“Locked up in the Bank of Ironforge, as it should be,” he replied promptly. “What kind of idiot investor would walk around with that much gold on him, especially in a city as convuleted as this?”
Suddenly, a sound came from near the entrance to the alley. With a snarl, the dwarf seized the paltry amount of gold and scampered off into the darkness. The noise turned out to be a large stray cat, which seized upon the fallen pie. He scratched it absent-mindedly before turning again towards home.
Of course, he reflected, she never asked me about the 300-gold gem I have in my OTHER pocket. I gotta make a living too, you know?
He began to whistle a tune as he walked away, wondering if it would be possible to relocate his draenei assistant.