Elodi hadn’t been wrong and neither had ZJ. The entire road up to Camp Winterhoof had been incredibly quiet and exceedingly boring. Increased activity of Vrykul my ass. She and I did see a Scout and for a moment we both wondered if we were going to see action but I think after a few moments of thought we all realized that was going to be a terrible idea and really we all just wanted to get somewhere comfortable to eat dinner.  I almost wished it had come to some sort of conflict so I could get off the wagon, move around, and warm my blood up. 

The land was beautiful, at least. Teeming with wildlife and the grasses growing a lush green after a winter under snowpack. Other shoveltusk ran around and bellowed rough calls at our...

The ship had, unsurprisingly to everyone but me, arrived half-a-day early into the port at Vengeance Landing. Strong tailwinds hand helped push the cargo ship and no serious storms had waylaid our travel. I didn’t ask what the rest of the crew was heading up for, small talk when I’m on a mission really isn’t something I focus on. Also, frankly, two and a half days on a ship with people I don’t know and food that’s not mine might as well be torture. I was friendly enough, so were they, but I think we could all tell that none of us really wanted to be going where we were going. 

We disembarked in the early morning of the eighth day of the month; A wagon was waiting for me, I guessed that ZJ had either sent word ahead or...

"Where the hell you been?” The door wasn’t even fully open before his cousin’s voice hit him.

Renrael grit his teeth and dropped his camping pack just inside the door. He shrugged out of his his jacket and tossed it onto the waiting chair. If it happened to hit said cousin, Renrael didn’t mind.

“Out. Had a date.”

“Another one? Better not be a fucking guard again. Over night, too. You must really like this one.”

“Different girl. And we didn’t sleep together. I didn’t sleep with either of them.” He turned to face the other man, taking in his slumped posture, the rumpled shirt, and the beer bottle in his hand. “You owe me for all these beers. And the silver you took two weeks ago. I didn’t forget, I...

I am not soft.

That being said I am also not heartless. I knew what my actions would do to the people of the Golden Thorn after Imriel’s death. When you challenge a leader of a company, if you set the terms for all of their assets, that company becomes yours. I was their Captain now, their leader. It was up to me to see that they prospered, or they could do what I’d done same as I did it.

There was a lot of “hurry up and wait” after. Allegiances were sworn. Gold changed hands. A pyre was built. You never get used to the smell, it doesn’t matter how many you’re around. His Second pulled his documented last wishes out of one of their lockboxes; Imriel had no living family. He wanted to be burned immediately; He’d seen what...

Isra dragged out a pipe in her agitation, lighting the thing with a quick flick from a matchbook. Meryn’s shoulders bunched up a little in irritation, just like mine did. Something the witch had said earlier filtered back to me from the depths of my mind. ‘You favor your father so much’. My hand bunched in the quilt underneath me; I knew my mother hadn’t been faithful to my dad. It’s why he’d killed her. Our hair was similarly colored, Meryn and I. My dad had black hair.  My mom was blonde. I’d gotten her skin tone and freckles.

He’d looked familiar because he looked like me. My mouth was dry as I looked back over at Isra. It took a few attempts to start but I managed it. “Does he favor his father too?”

Her green...

Calebbe,

As the person I am sending this letter on behalf of has been incredibly unhelpful, I have sent two copies. One by owl, one by post. From what I have gathered it is more than likely that the one by owl will reach you first, if this is the case her name is Luna and she would enjoy a mouse as payment for services rendered.

I have in my company Lynesse Gloamingdawn, whom I found left for dead at the bottom of a ravine a few days past. She mumbled your name in her sleep, that is the closest I have gotten to getting any information out of her regarding whom to possibly contact regarding her state and situation. She does not seem to trust me -- highly unfortunate but not unexpected. Rest assured that if you are too busy to retrieve...

There was a steady, throbbing pounding in my head as I slowly woke up. I hurt. Gods did I hurt, and I didn’t remember why. I tried to push myself up but I didn’t move so much as twitch, full bodied, my lungs burning as cloying air full of smoke and what smelled like lavender filled them. Talk about panic inducing.

Even my vision was spotty and blurry, what light crept into wherever I was only illuminating so much. There was red paint across the wooden supports that arched along the ceiling, faded to a dull rust. Little motes glowed bright in the sun shafts before vanishing into the darkness. A woman laughed outside, having a genial conversation in an older version of Thalassian with words and tenses I didn’t understand, mixed in...

“Miss Gloamingdawn, the farrier wanted me to pass on his compliments for the shoes you made for the destriers today,” Rodgerick Edgeworth said to her as he stood a respectful foot from her person, the awe in the Human’s eyes betraying his feelings for having a few Elves in the company. 

The farrier, a gruff man who’d only given his name as Pence, never passed compliments on to anyone. Lyn had spent more time in his company since arriving with the small band sent out to help bolster the forces in Alterac than she had anyone else, mostly because the area around the forge was warm. The alliance with the humans had been her ticket out of Quel’thalas, to see the bigger world at large, but she hadn’t expected the snow or howling...

Thankfully, I didn’t die.

My toes hit something sharp and I pushed up and off, my chest feeling fit to burst and my body torn between fighting and just stopping. I broke surface and took a gasping, spluttering breath but there was nowhere for any air to go. The sounds of my splashing and retching filled the small cavern as I beached myself and heaved seawater out of my body and onto the sand.

I rolled onto my back and stared up at the illuminated rocks and wheezed, my head spinning and making me feel like the ground was rolling the whole time. There were lights, someone was probably here.

Sure enough.

A goblin loomed over me when I opened my eyes again. I could barely see him over the pistol barrel pointed square at my face. I...

Ratchet. 

I’d hate the place if I didn’t love it so much. All rough and rumble, corrugated steel and haphazard wood. Haven of pirates and cartel. A mercenary in good standing with Steamwheedle could make a killing, killing here. Khaeris made sure to mention that the Tart – Dicenne? – the fire staff (and whip, apparently) guy had his forge here. Damn shame I didn’t have time to make it by. Still, it only enamoured the dirty, dusty town by the sea to me more. I reminded myself that I was here for work, not play.

My job was simple – A whole supply of Grog had been stolen from the Laughing Zhevra tavern. This was bad. Pirates need their libations or they get ornery and it wouldn’t take long for news of a shortage to spread....

Distracted

((Originally posted on Tumblr))

Except for hundreds of tiny pushpin holes covering the largest of them, the apartment walls were bare. Instead, the dozens of pieces of paper recently rescued were strewn over a cramped dining table. The three young men sat at lazy, insolent angles around the mess of maps, schedules, and schematics.

The dry rustle of paper attempted to fill the silence as a calloused hand shoved angrily across the table. “Seriously, Ren? A guard? Fel, man. And she’s been fucking ARRESTED?!”

The words had been repeated frequently, in one way or...

“I’m sorry, Lyn,” Tem said. He licked his lips briefly, and then shook his head, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to come. I didn’t want you here for this. Fuck.” But he couldn't make words that easily anymore. His eyes moved to his blonde comrade-in-arms, and his friend nodded in understanding while moving to turn his back on the situation. He didn’t leave, but he moved away, affording them a bit of privacy in those last few moments. 

“Lyn,” Tem said again as he reached out to touch her hair. He’d always liked her hair. “Lyn, you are amazing. Fuck this shit about being stubborn, or angry, or anything else. You are amazing, and I don’t think I ever said just that. I probably could have fallen for you, you...

Carrion bird wings make this really unsettling rattle as they fold in. Something to do with how the feathers slide against each other. At least they’re prettier than vultures in Nagrand. My vision is blurry and blinking doesn’t seem to help at first, but I keep at it. I’m a very stubborn person, or so I’m told. 

Hearing Zal’jir’s rasping laugh is, honestly, more comforting than startling. His large, hunched form is bright blue in the Nagrand sun. Blazing white warpaint mats his fur, the lines shifting as he bats the birds away gently with his bow. It’s nice being in his shadow, I have to admit. “ZJ overheard Imriel talkin’ ta Risse. Imriel tell Risse she could have your share ov da gold if she made to Wor’var wit Bel...

There was a lot of blood in the grass. The sharp copper tang of it mixed with the sweet smell Nagrand’s flora always made when crushed underfoot. I could taste it on my tongue, too. Thick in my mouth and on my lips. This wasn’t how it ended. 

I’d sought out Imriel again. Imriel, leader of the Golden Thorn. Imriel, who’d known my Ysirien. Imriel, who’d bought my contract from the Silvermoon Government and then lost money on it when I’d been hurt. It only made sense to make it right. To pick up where I’d left off. He and his comrades had a small little outpost in Talador. It was quaint, but work came to them, there. 

We met with jovial smiles and clasped arms. Kind spoken words to my good health and his good fortune....

Temrode had made her a gift for the Holiday. Well. Not the current holiday; he’d made her a gift for the holiday that had just passed -- Love is in the Air -- the one holiday she hated because you shouldn’t need a holiday for that sort of thing. He never liked getting people flowers, he said, because they died. He asked if it was weird that he’d gotten her a gift. 

It was, a little. They’d only slept together a few times. It wasn’t like they were “a thing”. He’d wanted to do it, though, and he’d done it, so it wasn’t that weird at all so far as she was concerned. He’d made her a mechanical crane; It looked so intricate and delicate, but it was tougher than it seemed. Moving the wings and winding it up to watch it...

“So if I’m a tiger,” Lyn said with a bright laugh as she walked next to Zal’jir back into the camp where all the mercenaries stayed, armor and axe spattered with the blood of Orcs, “what’s that make you, ZJ?”

The Darkspear rumbled good-naturedly, his own laugh a hollow rasp like reeds in the wind, “Zal’jir’s a bat. Bats stay oudda de tigah’s way.” He paused a moment, the blue fur on his arms bristling before his golden gaze drifted toward the mercenary camp, “There are people at ya tent, Girlie. Imriel. A few oddah’s from de west side of camp. One from de east.”

Her ears pinned back and her eyes narrowed, turning to look in the direction of where she’d pitched her temporary home. She could barely see it...

“….We need to get around their barricade and into the crater or we’re not going to get anywhere. We’re still short on supplies from the Siege,” Lyn tuned back in, listening to the Elven scout give his report to the temporary war council that had been set up with a few of the Army officers and a couple of the Mercenary captains. She shifted her weight in the canvas chair that had been provided and rested her chin on her knuckles as he continued, “If we don’t stress to our leaders that we need a joint operation with the Alliance we aren’t going to–”
 

“We can try, but don’t expect much,” Imriel intoned, seemingly just as bored as she was, “Thank you, Scout Springvale. Sunwell guide you.” Scout Springvale...

Two missives came by personal courier, something that never happened. That was my first inkling that something was up. One was in a scarlet envelope that screamed urgent, the other plain parchment yellow emblazoned with the Horde insignia. Obviously I opened the red one first; I knew what a call to arms from the Horde looked like. I’d gotten a few as a private soldier and I wanted to put off opening it as long as I could. 

 Ratchetclank’s personal seal in inky black wax kept the red envelope shut. There was a bit of string under it to cut through the closure efficiently. Goblins, always looking to shave time off of menial tasks. I skimmed the text.

They’d been “morally obligated” (translation: paid a fine sum) to sign my...

Helion Gloamingdawn had been a good man. Even tempered, strong, and steady. Good with people and animals. Quiet in all aspects; mind, soul, and body. His love had been this deep, unfathomable wellspring that was always tangible. There had never been any question of it, even if some other woman did occasionally catch his eye.

Ysirien Van’aen, on the other hand, was his opposite. After Helion’s death, opposite was what she needed. Gone were Helion’s broad shoulders, replaced by Ysirien’s wiry, lithe frame. Instead of gold, cream, and brilliant azure she indulged herself in decadent chocolate, caramel, and fel tinged green. Where Helion had been constant, Ysirien was mercurial. Helion was her equal, Ysirien her subordinate. But,...

(Originally posted Nov 14, 2010)

Braghaman sat up on the bed and glanced around the room. It was a small room, enough space for a table and a chair at one side and the bed at the other. It was a quaint home, comfortable for the people who lived here usually. The hearth had a cozy fire in it, casting a warm glow around the room. The door was open, the early evening peering into the room.

It had been two days since the priestess had brought him here. Smuggled out in the back of a wagon, she'd brought him to Darkshire and to this little home just outside. She'd bound his hand and helped him as best she could. Then the young priestess returned to Stormwind to see what could be found out.

Two days of laying in the bed with nothing to do...

(Originally posted Nov 11, 2010)

Nalya was new to the Cathedral. She had completed her priestly training in Northshire Abbey and had only recently arrived in Stormwind. As a young priestess, she was still amazed at the grandeur and size of the Cathedral. The city was much larger than her home in Darkshire. But at least she didn't have to worry about something coming in to town to eat her, she thought as she walked through the halls of the Cathedral.

She was new, so she had been given mostly menial tasks to do. But Nalya didn't mind. She was happy to be helping in any way she could. This evening, she'd been given the task of lighting the candles in the rooms in the keep. With a calm smile, she walked down the halls of the lower...

(Originally posted Nov 3, 2010)

Deep in the halls of the Cathedral, the light of the morning barely made itself known. Sitting in his lonely cell, the priest was on the floor, cross-legged with his head bowed. As he slowly, rhythmically breathed, his peace ended with the quiet tapping on the door to his room.

"Come," the priest said quietly, his head remaining bowed.

"Father Corenyn," the paladin greeted quietly as he entered the room and shut the door.

"Brother Faris," the priest returned, finally looking up to the doorway. He looked young, not quiet the years of middle age. Apparently fit, he never seemed to tire in front of the others in the Cathedral. "You bring news?"

"I do, father," Faris began as he moved closer. The...

(Originally posted Oct 28, 2010)

Slowly, consciousness creeped up on the paladin. And with it came the pain. A dull throbbing pulsed in his head. He could feel his heart beating in his head, and it was not a pleasant sensation. Slowly, he tried to bring his hand to his forehead, but couldn't reach his head. Tentatively, Braghaman pulled on his arm with no success. Jerking harder, he could begin to make out the sound of metal jingling near his ears. Turning his head to the side, Bragh could see his arms hanging from the wall by heavy chains.

"Glad to see you're back with us," a gruff voice spoke in the shadows.

Wincing, Bragh began looking around. The room was shadowed. He was sitting on the floor, chained to the wall by his wrists....

(Originally posted Oct 27, 2010)

The hour was late. Sooner than some would want, the morning would begin to break along the horizon. But for the moment, darkness had settled deep as the night slowly progressed. Most had long since gone to sleep, few continued to mill around the city of Stormwind.

Inside one of the town's inn, the silence was disrupted by five men who quietly moved from the entrance to the steps. Hints of armor could be seen beneath their cloaks. The men had taken the trouble to try and muffle the metal of their plate, wrapping particular parts in cloth to reduce the ringing. As the five men began to climb the stairs to the second level, they drew clubs.

"Who are we looking for?" one of the men whispered from the...

(Originally posted Oct 23, 2010)

A mist rose lazily from the ground, still damp from the rain that had torn through the realm earlier. In the woods, the occasional howl would echo among the trees as beasts began emerging from their lairs as the weather cleared. And in the town, the citizens also began to come out of their homes, wondering out into the twilight. As the watchers shook off their cloaks, water spraying into the air again, the clopping of hooves sounded as a lone rider came into the town's center.

Braghaman pushed the hood of his cloak back, water dripping down his back, as he rode into Darkshire. His patrol had been long and wet, at least one would guess that from his appearance. The paladin reined his horse in, and sat...

(Originally posted Sept 29, 2010)

(Originally Posted Jan 10, 2009)

The paladin walked slowly up the steps to the cathedral in Stormwind. His armor ringing as he climbed the stairs seemed much louder to his pounding headache. When he finally reached the top step, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. Finally, he took a deep breath and walked into the cathedral. Entering the main hall, a young priest called out to him. 

"Brother Faris. Welcome back," the priest called out. Then he noticed the paladin's condition. "Are you okay, Brother Faris?" 

"I will survive," Faris grunted. Please find me Father Jeseb." The paladin sunk onto one of the benches while he awaited the priests return. He felt as if he'd barely closed his eyes when he heard footsteps...

(Originally Posted Jan 16, 2009)

The paladin Faris was sitting at a table in the Cathedral of Stormwind. It'd been a day and a half since he'd lost Braghaman Larethian. Almost two days since someone strolled up and dispatched his men and defeated him. He stewed over the insult as he read through papers on the table. While he was reading, a shadow fell over his table, blocking the light from the papers he was reading, blocking the light from his business. 

Looking up, Faris saw a young paladin, his armor still fresh and suffering from no mark or dent, standing beside the table. The young man stood at attention, waiting for his superior's attention. Faris eyed him up and down for a moment. "Report." 

"Sir," the young paladin began....