comedy

Walking into her office yawning once dragging her feet, long night as normal on patrol for the Queen, she stumbles into her office more with heavy steps; seeing a letter on her desk in the middle folded so neatly catches her eye, “Oh. What is this? I am guessing something he wants me to look over.” A smile flows over her lips before fighting it away. Picking up the parchment flipping it open, she was betting it was something cute but…

“Ugh! These shoes are so tight, feels like there pinching my toes one by one with each step!” There I was crying like a big baby over shoes. Mind you heels for that matter!  “I was already tall why do I need to be on stilts?” was running through my mind a mile a second while glaring at Minima.

I was completely, utterly and totally uncomfortable in my own skin at this point. The garter belt was riding up pulling on the black silken stockings with the lacey underwear mind you! I have been kidnapped and beaten for hours upon days and THIS was worse!

Travis clucked his tongue as he moved around Larosa's bedroom, "All I'm saying is that when the Commander asks what happened, just tell him that you look better then your opponent … It's the truth."

He moved Larosa's teacup closer to her hand before laying down the thick war council minutes beside it.  She did have plenty of time to sit and read it now.  She wasn't going to be moving from her bed for the rest of the night.

"Here are those meeting minutes as well as a copy of the new squad list, Mrs. Goldengale posted.  I put the pine nut bread on the other side of the bed as well as the reports from the interviews from Friday's event," Travis pulled out Larosa's current journal and a pencil, holding it out to her to take, "The current reports from SI:7 are on your desk, if you want those I'll get them for you."

Travis took a breathe, "I also found that salve you like and I got your boots and things from the practice room like you asked, they are in the other room.  Anything else I can do before I hit the rack, Major?"

(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.

I was in the Hinterlands recently. The trees and green hills remind me of what Eversong looked like before the Scourge came. It even has elves: there is a small enclave of my people in the northwest. Unfortunately, they belong to some violent, isolationist sect, attacking any stranger who gets to close to their compound, even one of their own kind. It makes me sad that there are elves who chose to retreat from the world after the destruction of the Sunwell.

In a rather comical display unusual for Kah, she found herself sitting in a hollowed out tree, her back pressed against the bark, surrounded up to her waist in locked boxes. She smiled tightly to herself, the fingers of her right hand twirled gracefully around her tools as she lifted one up, peering at it carefully. One of the few secrets of the universe, she knew, was that if there was something important, dangerous, or both, it would be locked in a box. And getting those boxes open was a challenge she enjoyed.

<The following takes place three hours after Fal had a few drinks with some friends. Okay, to be realistic. He drank IronForge.>

"Ooh! My head"

"Murgle gurgle"

"Bloody Hell! A murloc!"

Alex trotted on her horse, slowly behind the small cart that had two people driving it.  She had listened to the two men driving the cart the whole time that she had been traveling with these men, and that was since they left Ironforge nearly 2 hours ago; their destination was Arathi.

Dear Diary,

Oh, were you expecting someone else, Diary? I'm soooo sorry to disappoint. I'm sure, if you give me a moment, I can figure out a few ways to entertain and please you, Diary. Maybe I can stroke your pen? Would you like that? Long slow strokes? Then I could suck on the tip while I think of what to write next? The delicate pink of my tongue flicking and circling it, as I tap it against my sharp little fangs? No? Oh come on now, sweetie. You know you want me to. Everyone does.

Dear Diary,

Wow! So much has happened since I last wrote, Diary. I don't know where to start! First, I'm not in Silvermoon! I'm not even in Azeroth! I know you won't believe this, Diary, but I am indeed on an entirely different planet! With alien creatures! Isn't that, like, so totally cool fantastic wonderful amazing keen nifty with sprinkles! One of them is looking at me even now! He's big and gots hooves and muscles and a long thick tail and he's frowning, which I have to admit brings the excitement level of meeting aliens down a bit. They don't seem to care for me that much. So I'm stuck living in the common room here with these other Sin'dorei folk, the Scryers. They're pretty much like most blood elves...yeah...angsty, self absorbed. Joy. So I won't be spending much time here either, I suspect.

Dear Diary,

You know, keeping track of who likes us and who doesn't is quite a bother, Diary. First its the trolls and now its the dead people. Now this time, I was on my guard, Diary. Something about near death experiences with trolls seems to make me that way, go figure. I had just finished filing some papers for the Hand, when a courier came running up to me there in the middle of the guild hall yelling at the top of his lungs. “The Scourge are attacking! All members of the Hand to Deathholme by order of Sylvanas,” he screams. At no one, Diary. Well, no one except me. That's right, there's me, the empty hall and him. Then this bony little fellow looks at me expectantly with his glowing little eye sockets. Me? Go fight the Scourge? I got this thick feeling in my throat, you know Diary? Like when you just took a drink of some nice mulled wine and managed to somehow get it into your lungs instead. This guy had to be joking, I mean...I'm the accountant?

Dear Diary,

I got to go to the Undercity today! It was very neat! So spooky. As soon as I finished up clearing out trolls from the east of the ghostlands, it was off to the orb of translocation whatzit. Trolls you ask, Diary? Yes, indeed I did say trolls. Apparently there's a whole bunch of different types of trolls. Who knew? Well I was up north of Tranquilien, there at Farstrider Enclave. It's a lovely little building, though it's getting a bit run down. Could use with a coat of paint and some gardens. But apparently they're short handed there, because they had all sorts of piece meal work for me when I came by, so maybe decorating's not high on the priority list. The last thing on they gave me to deal with was this group of trolls down to the south east of the enclave. Trolls being our friends now, I figured this would be a snap. Just ask them to stop raiding, right? Oh Diary, I was so very wrong. Everything my mom said about trolls, it's absolutely true. Well at least some trolls. Diary, no sooner had I approach their little camp, then out comes these massive green tusky brutes charging at me. And I'm like, “Hey there! Just here to say hello, glad your on our side now and-” and right about then he brained me.