Hoarkin's blog

Hoarkin finished packing his last bag. Strapping it onto his mechanostrider, the gnome noted with satisfaction that his turtle, wolpertinger, chicken, tiny reindeer, and parrot were still snug in their cages on the back of the machine. His ram, Esdee and his battle-pig Mr. Wiggles, each also had numerous packs, bags and boxes secured to them, and Surly, his netherwhelp was perched on Esdee, ready to take flight when they set out.

My bad...I made assumptions that were either invalid or off base enough that I withdraw this post. 

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

(A Comedy in One Part) 

Hoarkin jerked awake, almost falling out of his saddle.  Esdee was snorting and acting skittish.  Not the normal reaction his ram had when entering Stormwind, but the usual reaction at battlefields.  Gripping his reins tightly, Hoarkin glanced wildly about, looking for the danger.  Then he saw the body.

And the next one.

The sound of splashing water and giggles drew Hoarkin down the hallway.  They sounded familiar…  He pushed the door open carefully and slipped inside.  The sounds were clearer now.  Gnara and…Fanshen?  Another splash and a murmur of assent.

Fanshen and the woman both shrieked at the sudden comand. The rogue spun as the servant stumbled back onto the bed. She contorted her body as she fell, managing with amazing grace to keep the glass of milk and the other of bright orange juice steady. Fanshen swore, eyes darting to the left and right. No quiet escape now, she thought. She was pinched. Sighing she raised her hands, accepting her fate.

From the hallway, Arch Magus Gindolphin chuckled to himself. Adept Hoarkin had warned him about this young lady. A serpent he said and it appeared he'd been correct. He made a note to keep track of this one. She would be useful at some point. Besides, she was quite fetching. He motioned to her to follow him. Fanshen hung her head and did so.

Pain stabbed Fanshen into consciousness. She opened her eyes setting off another wave of agony as the sunlight shattered her senses. She blinked, trying to turn her gaze from the unforgivingly bright sky. She could hear buzzards croaking nearby and fear lent her resolve. She lifted her head as carefully as she could to survey the damage. Her right leg was twisted horribly, hyperextended and pointed the wrong way. She could see the jagged lump of bone under the skin in her calf where the broken tibia pushed against the bruised tissue. Fanshen attempted to sit up but her back screamed in protest and she fell back to the rocky turf. Tears rolled down her cheeks and fear clutched at her heart. "I'm going to die!" she sobbed.

Hoarkin’s heart beat furiously. Just about everything in the world had gnome high on its list of Tasty Treats or People to Abuse Indiscriminately.

((A word of introduction.  This was taken from our old guild board and was one of our most successful bit of cooperative writing.  I will give credit here to Fanshen, Gilman, Raeani and Rhainne and the whole Scriptorium in general for this story.  It was one or two paragraphs and then the next person took it.  What follows is 6 or so people godmodding the hell out of each other's characters.  Hope you enjoy it))

"What's the name of this chick we're supposed to be looking for?" he asked, "And remind me again why it's so blasted important that we find her that we have to run instead of walk?" 

“You want me to do what??” Hoarkin asked, squinting up at the night elf standing silhouetted in the harsh Barrens sun. He had to admit, the effect was...intriguing.

“Oh please,” the girl said, kneeling beside the gnome, “no one will help me, and I really want it.”