Echo:

I am deeply sorry to hear of your wounding, though we both are well aware that danger is the soldier's constant bedfellow.  It strikes me, however, that a rest can only do your body good, and, more than likely, your spirit.  Although it saddens me that you have been removed from where you prefer to be, I think that, in time, you will realize the value of rest.  I know I am starting to.  It is difficult, of course, but I do feel some tensions releasing, even as others are realized.

The hunter comes awake with a violent startle, sitting bolt upright and meeting the timber wall with his shoulder. He rebounds to his feet and stands bristling and panting. His eyes make slow sense of the shapes in the dark. At the far end of the room a small hearth glows softly with burned down coals. His breath fogs the air in front of his face and he shudders, clammy and sweated from sleeping under furs.

((This takes place before the events Here ))

Staroda crept a bit closer toward Tyr’s Hand. He looked left and right, keeping an eye out for anyone -or anything- that might alert the Scarlets to his being there. Almost in sight of the gates, he hesitated. Harrigan did say do not go alone. No harm in looking, mind, but if I run into trouble I will never hear the end of it.

Star decided to turn around, head back for camp and wait to complete his scouting with Jurik when he saw a small figure picking their way through the dead landscape. Small, red dress…and head of red hair Star recognized.

He approached her, even as she spotted him and frowned. “Delphiee. There you are.”

The missing paladin hissed, “Staroda? What the fel are you doing here?”

 Specialist Black,

It's five in the morning on the Rampart of Skulls.   I'm here on lookout with a dwarf named Buzzbeard.  At least that's what we call him, and he doesn't seem to mind.  He's on watch now, and I'm supposed to be resting.  Every time I close my eyes though I hear the voices again, singing.  They don't want me to leave them, so I can't fall asleep.  In camp it's easier, with the sounds of everyone moving about.  Since I couldn't sleep I thought I might as well try to write, though forgive my handwriting as there isn't much light to see by.

She was going to kill him when she got home.

Miss Echo,

It seems odd to address you as "miss", rather than "marksman", but there is no way under this sun or any other that I can thank you in a professional manner for your thoughtfulness.  I enjoyed the melons, and the grapes from Telaar have been a delight to eat while sunbathing.  The sunbathing also seems odd, but it was recommended by your man Bek.  It took him a few moments to warm up to me - something that I did not help at first, but I was assisting the innkeeper in making some ice cream.

Yes, I know, that sounds odd, but the Kurenai suggested that I use some of my abilities to assist, and while none of the frost channeling attacks have anything resembling a constructive use, the ability to chill the air around me proved helpful, if disconcerting.  It hasn't been enough use for me to be permanently installed in the coldroom, mind.  I'm rather glad for that.

Staroda stepped through the portal, instantly teleported to the Purple Parlor. Glancing around, having never been up here, he spotted who he had come here to meet, just as she activated her guildstone.

“Alright Staroda, sorry for the delay.” Lirriel said, not noticing the warrior approaching.

“Priestess.” Staroda said. He smile faintly as he moved to where she could see him, out on the balcony.

“Oh, there you are.” She smiled, “How are you this evening?”

Staroda shrugged a bit. “As well as can be, I suppose. And yourself? How does the married life treat you?” he asked her with a smile.

Lirriel smiled, her hands beginning to fiddle with her rings. “It goes rather well. I'm happy and relaxed, so far as that goes. Always something new, though.”

It is Monday morning. I go out from the House for a run.

Rain had come to Alterac over the weekend and melted much of the snow.  Water now lay in thin transparent pools in every low spot of the ground; my feet splash through them, wet leaves and dead grass clinging to my bare skin.  Each cold kiss of the forest drives me onward through the mist and fog. Where the snow still grips my ankles I grin a little, quickly escaping winter's grasp.  Though it is a gray world of barren trees and browned land, the rising water bodes of spring and the turning of the seasons.  

*Keldares is looking for a new home he has woundered for many many years and now is looking for a place were we can call home a nice quite place, away from wars and all the fihgting he is ready to  settle down.

Please forward to the residence of Umbek'tanaaj:

Bek,
I hope this finds you well and your life returned to normal - or as close to normal as could be hoped.  I have not forgotten what comfort and kindness you brought to our outpost in the Valley.  It was never just rations, you know.  Please give Marii my regards, as well as the rest of your family.  I'm sure Ranajan is helping out now with great approval.  Maybe he's even managed to impress a girl or two.

The nervous sentry started to salute Gavrisom as he passed, but realized the ridiculousness of it before his hand could reach his head and checked himself. He managed to turn the almost-salute into an awkward head scratch instead, but the motion and intent was not lost on Gavrisom. He frowned at the guard – just a kid really – who smiled a toothy grin at him.

“Have a lovely afternoon, sir!” the sentry said with a cheerful nod.

Had the whole world lost its mind? 

Countess. Lady Countess de Cheraville-Calloun.

The title lapped at her, pricked at her skin, stroked her thighs better than any man. Nepenthea's cries in the other room belonged to another life. Countess. She was a countess now and Paxineau, finally a rotting, steaming wad of meat under dirt already frozen over.

Countess Fierine twirled around until her nightgown swung wide like a ballgown's graceful arc.

Koumori stood near motionless, eyes heavy lidded and mouth slightly parted as a sensual smile played across her lips. If one were to listen closely they would hear a soft purr of pleasure as she arched her back into the sensations that danced through her veins and out to every single nerve ending.

The death knight watched the man’s body quiver, heat radiating from his skin as he stiffened. He pressed into her, his hair damp with sweat and his breath ragged until finally he fell to his back, writhing. She threw her head back, hair like streamers of lichen trailing down her back as a throaty laugh, filled with satisfaction, bounced off the walls.

 The stranger lay before her, eyes closed as his blood boiled… literally. Around him lay the pestilence ridden, lifeless bodies of his comrades, slowly being devoured by her darling little blood worms.

Marquis Vinguld,

Rest assured, my dear Monsieur, that I do not write you begging for gold, nor land, nor relief of burden, nor any of the uncomfortable things you may expect your wife's somewhat estranged daughter to request in a most uncouth and embarrassing way. I may be unconventional, Marquis, but I am nothing if not dignified.

That being said.

 Look! I made arts! 

Eventually I'll line and color it, but for now it stays pencil 'cause dang it my hand is tired.  Cerwis, in a fancy dress that the Marquis acquired for her (I blame Akkie for this one, totally.) Behind a break because it's large.

She was an ox of a woman, with skin that felt like weathered iron and dark hair wrangled away from her stern face. She was not fat, but thick, in the way an old oak tree is thick, and too proud to sag under the weight of its branches, lifted up the higher they grow. She was not quick of mind, but her stare penetrated all the same.

She had not been easy to strangle.

The spell felt musty and brittle in Fierine's hands. She knew she'd neglected it for far too long, locked it away and tried to forget that this monumental horror, this tipping of the scales, could be completed in one deft cast. She'd disguised it in potions, in diseases, in infusions that did the heavy lifting for her, still fearing the phantom pains that lurked in her dead hand.

((The night following “The Sister Blade”))

Nightmares from that place don't fade easily, I know.

If I tried to slip him a sleeping potion, he'd know. The hazards of us both being alchemists.

He's not entirely out of trouble yet, but he's aware of it, and trying. I still see the self doubt and loathing when he thinks I'm not looking. There's still anger and fear.

Dame Theryl Miller-Duskwind

As per request of one Corporal Devereaux,

 "Thought you said you could beat me this time, Misfit?"

While RP Haven was down I was awash in despair and had only my tears to comfort me! Cerwis (through no fault of her own) have me the idea to draw something. Please do not send her hate mail. She is an innocent in all this!

So I drew the studly Marquis Vinguld - evildoer of the other side of the fence! He is the chocolate to my peanut butter. As usual, here is the linework if you wanna color it better than I ever could (please show us if you do!). Check out the progression:

Inimicus knocked politely on the door to Mairead's apartment. He was well-dressed, in a white shirt, black slacks and a tailored jacket. All of it was freshly laundered, starched, and ironed. His necktie was wadded up in a ball and shoved into his pocket, since he hadn't been able to convince himself to wear it out in public.

Alynore locked her door and strode across the room. The contents of her bag were dumped unceremoniously on her workbench to be sorted through by the paladin's discerning hands. Adventurers came across all sorts of random things in their travels. Some of those objects were useful to someone with the proper skills to coax out their potential.

(( :D Computer crapped out on me, so that's why this is a bit late! ))

The captain of the guard came into the room quickly, and very unexpectedly. This caused a sudden burst of activity and commotion from the men and women in the room, having been caught in the middle of their mid-afternoon slacking. Papers were shuffled, conversations burst into life, and at least one deck of cards escaped and scattered on the floor. At any other time, the captain might have reprimanded his charges. While a certain amount of complacency and boredom was to be expected in the Keep, he nonetheless demanded a higher level of professionalism than this. Fortunately for the Stormwind guards, that particular dressing down would have to wait, for there was more urgent business at hand.

The elements had collected all the essences and strength they needed to host the dead Draenei and bring her back to life. They did not always agree with each other and they frequently battled about how they would go about their mission. But they had made it this far with the help of many heroes from multiple worlds. Innis had agreed to help the elements wake up the spirit since she specialized in healing. They picked Moonglade as the location for the ritual. It was the perfect location because of its closeness with nature and the spirits. Being peaceful was a bonus except for this time of year with the party goers and fireworks.

It is the middle of the week.  It is time to prepare.

The elements had met someone new, someone who could listen to the elements. Her name was Innis and she was willing and able to assist the elements in their search for wind. She was so eager that she risked her own life calling out to the very elemental power that they had been seeking. It was a risky move but it gave them a location to start with, Terrokar Forest.

After entering the forest they began their search for a place where an elemental lord could take up residence. As large as they were, they could be quite sneaky. They found a large clearing and knew the being they were searching for would have to be near this destruction. As they approached the center of the structure in the clearing, they saw flags from the Twilight cultists and went in after their target.

This forthcoming Friday, March 5th at seven o'clock Goblin Servo Time, the Commonwealth guild will host its third event to honor the people, contributions and history of smaller Alliance towns.  This time we'll be paying tribute to the lakeside settlement of Astranaar and the stalwart night elves who keep it safe from the neighboring Horde, deep in the scenic forest of Ashenvale!