escape

~These posters can be found in Silvermoon City's Royal Exchange, Bazaar, and at the entrances to Murder Row~

Blade for hire, experience in assassination, sabotage, and espionage, seeking collaboration with LEGITIMATE Horde organizations leading ventures outside Quel'Thalas.

Negotiable rates for professional service.

Inquire in the Hall of Respite during the evening, hours vary. 

Moshir watched the massive dark shape of the mushroom on which Telredor stood.  He crouched low, peering up from underneath the cap of the giant mushroom he was hiding under, the carpet he sat on hovering silently.  He kept his breaths long and quiet, the musty smell of the mushroom’s spores filling his nose.  The rain had stopped for the moment; the only steady sound was the dripping of water from fronds and mushroom caps.

A sudden gust of wind ruffled Moshir’s hair, and he shivered as he heard a soft squawk.  His muscles clenched and he resisted every urge to peer up to see if the gryphon’s rider was checking his hiding spot.  Kill it, Moshir heard the harsh voice whisper.  We will give you the power to kill them all, if you wish.

Rustforge: The Perfect Solution to the Alterac Problem

Here, sits one of the blackest hearts you’d ever meet, and dread. The very execution of their solutions.

The fireplace within the expansive office carries a spirited glow, flickering the whims and passions of the heat against the immolated wood. Gray eyes peer into the maw of heat, flames, crackling embers, and blackened stone. Wrinkles arrayed as fault lines across the mug of the face pondering the next directives, reveal a lifetime of struggle and challenges. Raven hair, cropped, yield to two stallion silver streaks on either side of the ears. Stubble on the sharp, rugged face, his facial features resembling more of an eagle.

"You keep staring at me like that, gonna make me think yer hungry. I know you had a nice bit of rabbit earlier.

Don't wanna sleep? That's fine. Not like I'm ready ta, either. So let's talk. I'll tell you a story.

You remember yer mama, don't you? Course you do. Yer still just a pup. Me, it's been so long, it all blurs together. What I do remember, well, there ain't much of that left.

I remember trees."

He would have sworn his brain was smoldering, like the last coal in a fire, dark and warm.  He swam as hard as he could, the sounds of battle behind him; the angry Tribesmen banding with the very beasts of the Echo Isles hot behind him.

They don’t want me, you know who they want, Moshy, the troll thought to himself.  His muscles ached, his head aflame as he swam against the compulsions that, though still powerful, were no longer irresistible.  His body cried out its hunger as he swam, threatening with every stroke to let him loose to sink down into the blessedly cool rest promised beneath the water’s surface.  Damn you Zalazane, was the thought that burned in his mind, you wanted power for none but yourself.

The rozzer tries the door as he walks past. Two minutes until he reaches the end of the block, two minutes that seem to last forever. As soon as he’s around the corner, I’m moving. The key works perfectly and I’m in, I lock the door behind me and crawl behind a desk. Another eternity and I hear the door rattle again. I count to twenty and head for the safe. And stop dead.

The watch in my pocket is buzzing like a wind-up toy. There’s strong magic here. I turn my head and squint, seeing what I fear, the faint wavering that means the safe is warded. At the least, someone will know when they’re disturbed; at the worst, they might trap me here or paralyze me for hours.

Seven’s adaptation to normal society was not going well. People were always behaving irrationally, illogically and discussing irrelevant topics. She had been learning a lot about Sin’dorei society and trying to fit in, but it was painfully uncomfortable.

She slept on a metal table in the engineering department of the Spire under constant watch by two guards. There were always another two guards by a safe with all her belongings. They did not hide their disdain for her at all. They spoke of her as an object and how she should be inside the safe instead of her gear or how she should be given to the goblin engineers who so badly wanted to take her apart. She was an object to them; less important than the tools in the room and certainly less useful.

Things were not much better outside the Spire. Raeril and Sindrasa seemed like they cared and attempted to help, but their affection was disturbing to Seven.

Her muscles flex as she runs

Strong legs moving faster, hooves pounding upon the stones

I close my eyes and allow the wind to free me

The salty mist refreshes my mind and spirit

There is no Horde or Alliance, no war, just me and her

Only riding can I escape the storm of battle

She learned a lesson today: be careful where you leave your toys.

  One green light, then another. ........ 

To say that her room was sparse was an understatement. Every other time in her life, she had gone with these people peacefully, agreeing with them that her obsession with fire was out of control. But not this time. Oh, she wouldn't hurt them, she wasn't allowed to hurt them, but once she was put in the room and the door was closed, that was when the fun began. Instead of sitting on her bed and meditating, trying to suppress the the flames that danced in her mind's eye, she let go. The first time she did it, the door blew off the hinges and a fireball belched into the hall, sending a few of the aids into a panic. She was moved to a smaller room, with a heavier door. The smoke that slid out from underneath was more than enough to set off the alarms. She was moved again. This time they tried to put glyphs up, something to suppress and calm her magic, and they had worked. For a few hours. When they went to check on her that afternoon, they were greeted with a sight that they had now grown use to.

"Are you there?"

The man snapped awake and looked around frantically. Aside from a ring of light around his crouched body, darkness surrounded him on all sides.  Sensory depravation was total, the only sound being the man's labored breathing.  It felt as if nothing even existed outside that ring of light.

"Are you there?" a voice whispered in his ear.  The man whipped around to see a girl standing at the edge of the ring, wrapped in an almost luminescent white robe.  Rust colored hair hung limply past her shoulders, hiding most of her face.  She leaned forward and stopped just outside the ring of light.  Her mouth moved, but silence still ruled the air.  A moment passed and she smiled, offering her hand.

Having no other options, the man reached out--