((98% of the text for this fifth installment comes from in-game RP with Umbraan of Moon Guard. In fact, all credit for the creation of Xeremuriis as a character goes to Umbraan's player, since I came up with the idea for her while RPing as Valdiis with Umbraan.))

    For six months, the Little Cat studied writing, reading, and speaking Common. From time to time, her friend Seung would stop by for several days and stay with her at her room in the Crystal Hall. Seung was intent on finding the strange man who had rescued her after the crash, so she roamed the islands for much of the time. The Little Cat was intent on learning as much as she could before she set out to find a ship. It was her plan to find Zunaadrin and his Argent...

In case anyone is curious, I've been posting some of my oldest WoW writing here on CharDiary before I get around to the newest stuff which folks may recognize. Valdiis, Xeremuriis, and Diyos are all me!

((The first scene comes from in-game RP with Seung of Moon Guard. All credit goes to Seung's player for being a good sport and letting me filch her character into the story.))

    The evening after Farseer Firmanvaar left, the Little Cat settled herself once more on a bench beneath the draenethyst crystal in the middle of Azure Watch. As the night’s business of cooking dinner, shutting down the settlement for the night, and the joyous social bonding the draenei were known for swirled around her, she set her mind to completing the map up to Azure Watch. Intent on her work, it was not until the brown furry head settled next to her on the bench with a soft whuff sound that the Little Cat noticed the bear.

    With a gasp of...

((I blame this one on Yulenia of Moon Guard. “Write a Val story,” he says; “write a war story,” he says… The discussion between Eredis and Valdiis comes from in-game RP; much thanks to Eredis and Bergmann for letting me run off with those characters a bit. The format – specifically, the timing of the three threads – of this particular story is somewhat bizarre. Hopefully, it is not too obscure to be understood.))

    The acrid mixed scent of sulfur and flux, of melted iron and crushed rock, hung on the hot, dry air swirling lazily through the open balcony of the second floor of the building. As acclimated as any native of the city by now – or perhaps just too dead to smell it – a draenei female in light plate...

He’d written him again that day. Letters, stretching out into the Void, in dark ink and untidy scrawl. Crumpled up and cast into the sea; it was as close as they would ever get.

Like fireflies, on the coast of Eversong, caught between his hands. Dim light flickering between his fingers...there was nothing there when he looked inside. A spectre of himself, of what they were. And he was a long way away from nights like that.

The weeks had passed in highs and lows, tidal pulls all his own. Finally he found himself splayed out on unwashed sheets, staring into shadows whose language he didn’t know.

Lore, of course, was born knowing. It was as his mother tongue.

All that time… and maybe it was only a blip in his entire life, a...

Marachius stood outside the shop and looked in through the front window. In the window was a blue dress on display. The paladin studied the dress, his head tilting to the side slightly. He was slightly aware of the people walking past on him on the street, only enough to make sure that he wasn’t blocking the way as he looked. 

“Looking for your sweetheart?”

Marachius blinked a couple of times before looking for the voice that had just spoken to him. A woman stood in the doorway of the shop, looking at Marachius.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, I assume that you’re not shopping for yourself,” the shop owner said with a grin. “Though if you are, I’m sure we can alter it to fit.”

“Oh, uh no. Its not for me.”

The shop...

Renrael was pleased with the tree. It wasn't a paper flower; he was branching out with his papercraft. The little winter veil tree was made from newspaper he'd cut out, and a book of old music that had been long since ruined by weather and age.

It wasn't really that impressive, but he thought it was endearing, and he hoped his giftee in the work exchange would like it. He hadn't been around the tavern as much as previously; things were still slightly awkward at times, which was unfortunate. He did his morning shifts a few times a week, he smiled and had an ale in the great room a couple of nights a week. But mostly he was still seen as the man that read the paper and kept to himself. Hopefully they knew him to have an easy smile,...

Bella walks out onto the stage wearing a thigh length green velvet dress with a black velvet belt around her waist and white faux fur fabric at the very bottom of the skirt as well circling her wrists at the end of her sleeves.  On her feet she is wearing a pair of black boots with the same buckle that can be found on her waist with platform heels and fur on the top of them as is on the dress and as always a faint sparkle can be seen on any exposed skin.

Slung across Bella’s chest is her hand crafted guitar which is green just for this performance. The stars still adorn the body of the instrument, though.  The strap she is using today is a red color with different holiday themed items sewn into it like greatfather winter, candy...

Braghaman used his shovel to finish filling the small hole in front of him. Straightening up, he cast a glance around at Raven Hill Cemetery to make sure that nothing had tried to approach him while he’d been digging. Everything was safely at a distance. The paladin knelt down and moved the mace that he’d placed on the ground beside him and pulled over a leather bag. Opening it up, he pulled out a small, stone panel. He placed the stone next to the hole and then stood slowly.

It read ‘Faris’.

There was the cracking of a branch behind the paladin, causing him to grip the shovel tightly and turn around. Braghaman relaxed as he saw Eric walking towards him.

“Was he there?” Braghaman asked as he reached down and picked up the...

“Ya know, Myth, for future reference when I say ‘peel the potatoes’ I don’t mean carve them into beautiful flowers,” the older male chuckled at the younger one before him who had paused in his artistic endeavors upon said spud as he looked up.

A sheepish grin bloomed on Mythlleass Wildsword’s face as he shrugged at Jioren ‘Cookie’ Summerwing, “Aw, common Cookie, the Sentinels deserve fancy potatoes, don’t’cha think?”

The head cook of the mess hall in Feathermoon Stronghold sighed at his ward, looking over at the large pile of already peeled potatoes that Myth had made short work of earlier and was thankful the boy’s idle hands had only come up with this diversion, “Uh-huh. So who’s your target this...

    The sickly green tendrils of fel energy dragged claws across his mind, their tainted fingers tugging and stroking and promising all manner of unimaginable power if he let them in. Just a taste. Just a touch. You’re already halfway there… What’s a little more?

    No.

    The anchorite strapped a little bit of mental steel to his backbone and concentrated on the task at hand: rifling through the thoughts of the bound sin'dorei prisoner in front of him. Despite being half-hidden by shadows and mist, he could see the two Hand of Argus vindicators guarding the prisoner eyeing him nervously. Wasn’t that always the price of it? Those few who knew what he did for the Hand…he always made them nervous. He shut out his...

Kav grinned. The gift box had the tropical scent of fruits and the alluring scent of chocolate drifting from within, but it isn’t for her. Carefully she writes the tag, making sure to spell his name right as she says it out loud multiple times. 

“I pulled your name for secret santa, so here it is! I hope you enjoy them all; if you want more I have some failed attempts at the studio.”

Though few knew of it, Kav had a passion for fruit. She wanted to carve something fantastic for her secret santa recipient, but when she pulled Talyn she had a change in plans. The man loved sweets, and Kav loved fruit. Thus a box of carefully wrapped, chocolate coated fruits had his name on it. Some had coconut shavings, others a few nuts, a...

Commission of Iyora by Tiffany-anne Dobbs

Morning broke through the window like an intruder. The suns rays bouncing of various objects settled on the top of the large wooden desk, the reflections dancing across the ceiling. 

The blankets barely hung from the dozing Draenei woman's form. Now ice white hair flowing across the pillow where her head rest.

Mismatched eyes traced her outline, content to linger on her peaceful face. She had no need of sleep but she seemed to enjoy the action more with him around.

Gentle care was made to ensure she remained in that blissful state as Dizarak shifted to sit at the foot of the bed. Peering out of the glass doors, a hand rubbed at tired eyes. Dreading the daily ritual of preparing to leave the safety of his four walls, he sighed...

    One of the seven survivors the Little Cat and Sennar had found would not wake up. His left horn was almost entirely broken off, and the skull behind where it would have been was dented. Yet, the draenei man clung stubbornly to life, so there was still a very good chance that – with enough healers – he could recover.

    The Vale didn’t have enough healers, however. Anchorite Zalduun had recovered and taken over the infirmary duties, so the de facto leaders of the Vale decided to send the Farseer with the badly injured survivor to the Exodar’s main crash site to seek out more healers. A stretcher was fashioned from a mage’s staff found in the wreckage, the Little Cat’s broom, and a cloak. Anchorite Zalduun put...

    A bright peal of laughter and the rapid clatter of hooves on the tile floors of the ship’s corridors were all the warning Shield Crusos got before the little girl came barreling around the curve in the corridor and straight into him. Luckily, that was enough warning for him to jump nimbly out of the way, despite the heavy plate armor he wore. “Sorry!” the girl shouted as she gained speed down the straight part of the corridor, waving a piece of paper over her head with one ebon-gray hand. Crusos shook his head and smiled, turning to go on his way and report for the day’s duty guarding the Prophet. A large boy on the far edge of adolescence rounded the corner at a full gallop and crashed into Shield Crusos, sending them...

    If a person wanted to be digging up a magical artifact for research on this planet, then they ought to seek out a dwarf. Diyos had been here long enough to learn this. So it was that a week after his brother’s hearing and making that stupid, stupid promise, here Diyos was, making his way to the Dwarven District of Stormwind on a lovely, bright, late fall day. Scratch that. It was a lovely, bright, late fall day – except in the Dwarven District. Here, the thick layer of soot in the air didn’t so much obscure the sun as grab it by the throat and shake it until the lights went out.

    Diyos coughed and thumped his chest, cursed his sensitive nose, and lifted the directions he’d hastily scribbled from a city guard...

Clair unlocked the door to Kya’s flat, her nose wrinkling in distaste as she stepped over the threshold. A quick glance around the room showed the shambles in which it sat, there were dirty dishes piled on the counter and overflowing the sink, the trash looked as if it it hadn’t been taken out in days, and spilled out onto the floor. The drapes were drawn over the windows but as she moved through the flat she could see dirty clothes scattered about.

With a growing sense of alarm she made her way to her sister’s tiny bedroom, pushing the door open, blinking at the darkness. She dashed to the bedside, reaching out for the mound of blankets and jerked them back in alarm.

“Stop! What are you doing?!” came an irritated reply.

The taps of Braghaman’s hammer echoed along the road into Darkshire. He put the last nail flush with the wood and then stepped back to look at his handy-work. The frame of the window was repaired and the panes of glass were set in properly. Bragh hooked the claw of of his hammer into his belt then put his hands on his hips. 

“Good work, commander.”

“Thank you.” Bragh turned to see a woman standing at the entrance to the academy’s courtyard. He recognized her as a parent of one of Niviene’s students, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember her name.

“Maybe you missed your calling as a carpenter.”

“That’s possible. I’ve used a hammer for both.”

“Hopefully they’ll increase the patrols on this side...