Ol' Durty Pete

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Not to be confused with Odd Pete.
AllianceOl' Durty Pete
Image of Ol' Durty Pete
Gender Male
Race Dwarf (Humanoid)
Level 30
Class Hunter
Health 1,050
Reaction Alliance Horde
Affiliation(s) Ironforge
Location Teegan's Expedition, Southern Barrens [56.1, 42.6]
Status Alive

Ol' Durty Pete is a level 30 dwarf located at Teegan's Expedition in the Southern Barrens. He has seen his share of adventure, but Corporal Teegan is none too fond of him. Along with Goucho, he is described by Jeffrey Long as a "crotchety" hunter. He has a blunderbuss.[1]

Interacting with him, one can say, "Tell me a story, Ol' Durty Pete!" He will then tell some rather tall tales.

During one of his night shifts in the camp he stumbled upon a wounded Alliance scout that revealed that the Horde was heading for Northwatch Hold.[1]

Quotes

Ol' Durty Pete has several stories to tell, should the player interact with him.

This ain't the first time I been stuck up to me teef in a jungle that up an' done ambushed me. I been all over the world, <mister/missy>, an' I'll be hog-smacked if this one's gonna be the end of me.
Gossip Tell me a story, Ol' Durty Pete!
Back in the day, 'afore the day, me and me mates didn't have much in the way of drinkin' money, as is we spent our pay on booze an' that didn't leave non left over for more casual drinkin'.
So we decide we're gonna comm-an-deer one of them epic-sized kegs of ol' Barkerstout from the loft of Barky's Brewpub.
We chopped the supports out with hatchets and that ol' boy just up an' ROLLED out through the side of the thatch roof like a baby bird leavin' the nest, but some sort of big round beer bird, that could crush a man.
Gossip That sounds serious.
You know why they call it stout? 'Cuz once it were rolling down the hill it couldnae be bargained wit', couldnae be reasoned wit'. It felt no pity, no remorse, no fear.
It were like a beervalanche, which is a damn fine way to die.
So that keg explodered soon as it hit the orphanage at the bottom of the hill, and I dove inta the mud puddle wit' me mouth open, an' ... Come to think of it, I don't 'member how this story ends. Wanna see the tattoo?
<Ol' Durty Pete drops his pants.>
Gossip Tell me another story, Ol' Durty Pete!
You see this gun, <boy/missy>?
<Ol' Durty Pete casually waves his weapon directly at your face.>
This here gun's seen action on every continent but for Northrend. It's saved me life more times than I can count: Seven. One time, "Big Mackie" MacDungal - not the wee MacDungal now, but his pappy - offered me his youngest daughter in barter for me gun.
Let me tell you somethin' about Edie: she and me gun had a lot in common. Wide-mouthed. Buck-toofed. Dangerous from the biz-ness end. Likin' to go oft half-cocked.
You heard about the time wee Edie bet Chuck Brandybeard 25 silver she could kick 'im in the head so hard he would weep snot?
Gossip Weep SNOT!?
Ayup, word got around fast and soon the whole of Menethil gathered around to see it through, with bettin' and fruit vendor and the like, an' there were some consternation over the rules that had to be ironed out with a big rigamarole, 'til the mayor hisself agreed that weepin' blood tain't count fer nothin'.
So Chuck kneels down an' she gets up on a stool and REARS back with that big 'ol thick leg of hers and - but I'm digressin'. Point is, I shoulda taken the deal, 'cuz this gun's a bit dodgy.
Gossip Tell me another story, Ol' Durty Pete!
They didn't always call me Ol' Durty Pete.
Once, when I were young an' durty, I thought I'd impress a sweet buxom lass named Bellie with me chiselin' styles.
Ol' Bellie! She were somethin' else. Firm, that one. All big but for the middle, like they was meant to be.
So I found me a chunk of limestone white like her skin and I set about to chiselin' and carvin' and creatin' what you'd call a masterpiece, but I got me scale all wrong, see? I ended up with an enormous, what would you call it? Butt.
Gossip A butt?
You heard me, <lad/lass> - a butt! Not a fitting gift for a lady. But I liked it. So I offered to donate it to me local drinkin' hole.
They called it Durty Pete's Bottom, and eventually named the pub after it, afore them orcs burned it to toast, and all that's left today is me big blackened bottom amidst a heap of rubble.
<Ol' Durty Pete sheds a single tear.>
Gossip Tell me another story, Ol' Durty Pete!
Back in the war - not that one, the udder one - when them orcs rode dragons? Me and Whistler set out to cross from Southshore to Menethil Harbor inna rowboat we'd built outta knotty pine while soused to our eyeballs on  [Cherry Grog].
An' we got about a third the way by my reckoning, which were mostly far judgin' by the fact that there were nothing all around us but the sea, when my feet got to start feelin' wet.
Gossip That's not good.
Now let me tell you somethin' about knotty pine, it's got knots, <son/missy>.
And knots is just big holes in trees, which makes for a stupid rowboat and I blamed Whistler but he had his own ideas about my choice of tar (I chose to forget it) so we decided to settle it by drinking.
When the grog ran out, that's when we had the knife fight. For sport.
Anyways, we never made it to Menethil, and I'm pretty sure one or both of us drowned.

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