I imagine that, given enough time, I could catalogue the ridges of your callused fingertips, charting a topographical map using only my tongue as a surveying instrument.

Further, still, the intricacies and abrasive origins of each individual groove, revealed by taste alone: rope, braiding and cording innumerable hewn hemp knots until scraped raw; wind, dry desert air wicking away the moisture until splitted and scabbed and balmy tradewinds infusing so much that they swelled, macerated; salt, powder-dry remnants of the sea marking every crevice, the taste of which never has (and I’m sure never will) quite left (leave) you.

“Nasty,” You say, fingers hooked into my mouth as I tongue them in a perfect parody of oral sex. It is...

Brawl’gar is running a special on well drinks, a silver for swill, and as enticing as redirecting his rage into a bout of exhibitionist violence sounds, the place is packed and he’s not especially interested in waiting for the opportunity. It’s less effort to kill his liver and wallet instead.

There's enough waiting at the bar, anyway, swarming with brutality fetishists thirsty for scrapping and spirits both. When a space opens up next to him — the announcer whipping up the crowd about last call bets for a quite literal bout of tauromachy, Grimtotem on Grimtotem — a hulking Orc missing a tusk and sense of personal space leaps like a horny salmon into the spot, shouldering him brutishly.

“You got a problem?”

With...

Each boggy step belches sulfuric muck, the mineral rich earth grasping after the soles of his sodden boots like gnarled beggars fingers seeking alms. More than once, he sweeps away lacey lichen from his face, an unasked for procession of netted moss bridal veils as he passes beneath sagging swamp willow branches.  They leave behind traces of powdery spores on his skin, soft as talc, and while there’s a lack of baby’s breath to draw further poetic parallel of weddings to, soft fruticose sprigs tangle into his hair like marshland wreath.

It’s slow going. Treacherous, in its own way, how he can’t tell how far the earth will give beneath his feet. Testing steps into shifting sphagnum reveal footholds that seem solid with the...

Marachius finished brushing down his horse in the stables. The patrol had been mostly uneventful, but the paladin took special care with his horse none-the-less. Once he had finished, Marc put some feed in his horse’s stall and put up the rope that kept it from wandering off. Picking up his sword, helm, and medical kit from the ground beside the stall, he then headed out.

Once outside, Marachius slung his sword over his shoulder and onto his back. With his helm under his arm and his medical kit in his hand, Marc looked around the crowded city. He knew that he should get some dinner after a long day in the saddle, but he wasn’t ready yet. Instead, he decided to walk around. 

Without realizing it, Marc first found himself standing...

“That order. Of all orders, that one will haunt me for the rest of my life. I knew we were marching for Teldrassil; that was obvious from the moment we had finished taking over Astranaar. When an army is on the move to take over land, you don’t stop before the big prize. The destruction of these ancient forests was painful to be a part of, but I’m just a Captain in the Farstrider ranks, and not the forward march; we were more like a scouting detail and later a cleaning crew. 

Details of why each order was given, of what exactly happened at the front, were merely rumors through the vine. I don’t know why we set the Tree aflame, but it fits the general advancement of our lines. We were not there to overrun politically, we were...

Braghaman heard his family out in the backyard and was walking in that direction when he heard a knock at the front door. Sitting on the floor next to the front door was a mace, which Bragh picked up and held behind his back as he reached for the doorknob. Opening the door, he found a young man dressed in armor and wearing the colors of Stormwind.

“Good afternoon,” Braghaman offered cautiously.

“Sir,” the young man said, offering a salute which Braghaman quickly returned. 

“What can I do for you?”

“I was sent with a message for you, sir.” They young man held up an envelope.

Braghaman took the envelope and turned it over. On the back was his name written in bold, black strokes. The paladin frowned slightly as he...

(( This is an old piece I wrote after an adorable roleplay scene. I'm bringing it over from tumblr. ))

Just before the stroke of midnight two elves pushed a little rowboat off the shore of a lake. They had disturbed the glass-like water, creating big ripples in the otherwise near perfect reflection of the vast sky above. Safe inside their borrowed vessel, the elves began to row out to the approximate center of the star shimmering mirror; their laughter and chatter echoed just barely against the distant cliff in the deep night.

A few short hours prior Kavaina had been playing guitar to a nearly empty inn as a way to pass the time. The mid-week bustle of the city rarely went strong after the sun set, making late nights for the elf...

Hello Niviene, 

as I've been scrolling trough the latest posts I saw a few image posts without images on your profile. I am the programmer/admin here and it seemed strange so I checked what the problem is. I also fixed it (and removed the broken image posts that were created)

Could you please upload your images again? It should work this time. Thank you!

Oh and if you experience any unexpected behaviors again please drop me a message as a comment to this post on my profile's wall.

Have a nice day!

Satore Stillwater

Something about hammocking at the beach made Kav remember to check her mailbox; the last time she sorted through it all had to have been well over a month before when she sent a few letters to some friends with recording crystals attacked. Her heart raced at the thought; V had been one of those friend and might have responded without her having taken the moment to check! "Way to go he could have sent something and you didn't even know about it when you last spent time together!" Kav's mind teased her as she scurried through the jungle path to her bungalow near the resort.

The elf grinned when she saw only one folded envelope sticking out of the mailbox. With a quick slam of the letter drop door, Kav skipped off to her large swing bed...

The Slaughtered Lamb was quiet. There were a couple of tables that were occupied, but those people spoke in hushed tones with each other. One table near the front was occupied by two individuals, both of whom were deep in a whispered conversation. 

On the one side sat a person in brown robes and mask which hid his features and muffled his voice. Across from him sat a woman dressed in robes of purple and gold with a hood that was pulled low to help conceal her face from anyone not directly in front of her. On the table was a bottle of noir and two glasses, but neither person seemed interested in drinking from it.

“Thank you for meeting me here,” the man said.

“Its not my preferred location for a meeting, but it does have its...

Every surface was coated with a light dusting of white, almost as if it had snowed indoors. Two blonde heads bent over the table, using cutters to make animal shapes of the dough. “Did you know I used to not know how to cook?” Niviene asked.

Korissa looked up, her blue eyes narrowed in disbelief, “Nuhuh. Really? Did daddy teach you?”

The priestess laughed and shook her head, “You think daddy’s a good cook?”

The girl nodded as she brushed a strand of hair from her face, leaving a trail of flour behind, “He makes the best pancakes ever.” She replied.

“That is true.” Niviene agreed. “Actually Madam Eva taught me a long time ago.”

“Madam Eva?” The girl’s eyes had grown round as saucers, “You...

Late Night Visit

She sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, head bowed, her honey blonde hair falling forward to obscure her face. She glanced up, peering through the curtain of gold to watch him as he paced in front of her, his own dark hair,shot with silver and falling to his shoulders.

“You disappoint me my love. You have become quite domesticated. I would never have thought it of you and yet you’ve stayed, willingly, whilst he races off to war.” He paused, peering down at her, his brow creased with an all too familiar smirk, “It’s almost as if he can’t wait to get away from you now that he has chained you to his hearth. I can’t say that I blame him. Look at you, the model of subservience. Where is your fire?...

A guitar case of all black. Simple. Somber. Elegant. New. It didn’t scream out for attention, but rather sat in stark contrast to the flurry of colorful fabric surrounding it.

Kav sat on the decorative rug in the entertainment room she had rented for some time in Falconwing Square. Though there were plenty of lounging couches and pillows, the elf seemed to prefer the floor at that moment, her eyes fixated on the case before her. With a gentle movement, Kav’s hands went for the locks and popped them open with a click that echoed in the vaulted ceiling above. She glanced around, attempting to tame her quickly beating heart.

Curtains were hung on every wall, mostly purples but a couple reds to accent where doors might be. Though the...

“What is the delay?” 

The death knight strode into the cave as the snowstorm behind him created a curtain over the opening. His metallic voice echoed into the deep cave, even though he hadn’t spoken loudly. The death knight’s boots rung as it stepped around the loose stones on the ground.

“I am trying, master,” a quiet voice answered. From the back of the cave, a forsaken wearing deep purple robes with a hood stepped forward.

“That is not good enough,” the death knight responded. He took off his helm and held it under his arm. His pale skin and dark hair seemed to glow in the light of the torches that were lit around the cave.

“The incantation has been difficult,” the undead warlock offered. “I have tried, but...

Bronze dragons were masters of time. They could bend, twist, and knead it with the ease of a baker folding dough. They could peer into the future, manifest the past, and shiver the present into paralysis.

They could not, however, Khaeris thought, keep a schedule. Infinity did not daunt them. And calendars did not concern them.

“You were supposed to be here three hours ago.” Khaeris blinked owlishly and finished sitting up, peering into the doorway. She hadn’t been sleeping, but the room was dark and she’d been laying on the bed.

“I assure you, I was not. I think.” The dragon in humanoid form chirruped, not even bothering to sound indignant, but rather cheerful and half-distracted already. A light clap and the arcane...

Banagan sat quietly in the library, but anyone who watched him for any length of time would have seen that he was uneasy. The young man would regularly look around the room, or would glance at people out of the corner of his eye as they walked by. But to the casual observer, he was just another neatly dressed person wearing a plain white tunic with a vest over top and plan leather trousers. 

Sitting on the table next to him were several books haphazardly stacked. As he finished his latest tome, he shut it quietly and set it on the stack. With a heavy sigh, he rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands.

“Nothing,” he muttered to himself. “Just a plain Cathedral crest.”

Banny looked at the few remaining books on the table...

“And once you finish your training in Northshire, you could come here to continue to learn in the ways of the life,” the older priestess said as she led the young lady into the great hall of the Cathedral.

“That would be nice, sister,” Sabina answered quietly as she followed along.

“And here we have Sister Tessa from Gilneas,” the priestess said, gesturing to another priestess who was crossing their path.

“Good morning, Sister Martha,” the Gilnean priestess replied. “Good morning, miss.”

“This is Sabina, Sister Tessa. She will be going to Northshire to start her studies.”

“That is wonderful,” Sister Tessa answered. She looked at Sabina for a moment. “I’m sure that you will find the experience...

“How are you doing this morning, Sabina?”

“I am doing better, sister,” the young lady answered quietly.

Sabina Jensen sat in her chair, her hands clasped together in her lap. Across from her sat an older priestess and in between was a low table. On the table were a set of cups as well as a pitcher of tea. A soft light filtered through the windows and lit the room.

“Sister Anetta says that you were planning to go to the abbey to study.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is that still your intention?”

“I would like to, yes ma’am.”

“May I ask what convinced you to follow this path?” the sister asked.

“I guess..  I guess I just felt something calling to me.”

“Many people fell the pull of the Light,” the sister...

“Hey Marc.”

“Yeah, Aydin?” Marachius turned to look at his teammate as they finished putting away their saddles and gear.

“We all were planning to go to the Pig ’n Whistle once we get cleaned up. You game?”

“Sure,” Marachius answered with a grin. “Just need to clean off some of this road dust first.”

“Great! Bring your friend along if you want.”

“Reggy? I don’t know if she’s back yet, but I’ll check.”

“Okay. Don’t take too long. Last one there buys the first round.”

“Sounds good. You can buy me an ale when you finally show up,” Marachius responded with a smirk.

“Funny guy. Funny guy. See you there.”

Erik watched as the last crate on the dock was picked up and loaded onto the ship. Moments later, the plank to the deck was pulled up and secured on the boat as men on the dock began untying the boat from the moorings. Eventually, he watched as the ship pulled away from the docks and slowly made its way out to sea. 

With the ship leaving, Erik turned from the water and started making his way back into Stormwind. His tunic rippled in the breeze as he moved up the ramp away from the docks, and his sword slapped against his thigh as he walked. Anyone watching him would’ve thought from his clothes that he was nothing more than a merchant seeing his shipment off.

As he reached the top of the ramp, Erik turned and followed the pathway...

Marachius milled around the yard with the nine other men. The commander hadn’t explained what was happening other than telling the young men to gather their gear and be ready to go immediately. So the ten men stood near each other, talking quietly about what they suspected was happening. After a few minutes, two captains came walking out of the Cathedral dressed in full gear.

“Alright paladins, we’re going on a patrol of Elwynn today. You five will be riding with me,” the captain said as he pointed to one group that included Marachius.

“And you five are with me,” the other captain said to the second group.

“We’ll be out for most of the day. There are supplies waiting for us at the stables.”

“Ainsley. Samson. Did...

“Captain?”

The captain of the Night Watch looked up from his desk as one of the men entered his office. He leaned back in his chair as the militiaman stepped forward with an envelope.

“What is it?”

“Medical report from Stormwind, sir. On the Jensens?”

“Open it up. What’s it say?”

The guard opened the envelope and took out the three papers from inside. Reading over the pages quickly, he turned from one to the next to the next before looking back to the captain.

“Preliminary is pretty much what we saw. He died of a stab wound. She died from loss of blood due to damage to her throat and neck.”

“They say anything about how that happened?”

“It says at first glance, it looks like Mr. Jensen did it. It says...

Warleader Nakrosh  rode at the head of the hunting party as it returned homeward laden with meat. There was a slight smile upon his face that belied his fierce reputation as a taker of lives. He was a simple orc who found contentment in simple things and while his warband was small, this suited him just fine. He had no desire to command hundreds of warriors or dabble in clan politics. It was enough for him that his reputation as a warrior had garnered him great respect among the Warsong Clan and  that his followers and their families thrived. Truly the Ancestors smiled upon him.

Sure, over the last couple months his warband had suffered some ill luck. First, he and his mate, Yesui, had nearly been crushed by a freak rock slide as...

The words of a young paladin, encased in a sacred libram, unravel before you written in neat scrawl, the first chapter revealing itself plainly.

Hallowed

Eternal War. Hatred Unbound. Impossible Darkness.

This was the truth of Azeroth that I, Davian Rosswald, was born into.

Each lustful and hatred filled battle permitted by the visionless mortals who sought to enact their own fleeting ambition with their ultimately meagre power. Forests of tranquil being, struck down for murderous intent, the slaking of bloodlust by means of industry and further development of their already finely tuned killing abominations of steel. Ancient kingdoms, laid waste to by their own citizenry, lured by the temptation of dark powers. Goodly...