kidnapping

Scared,

Lost,

Alone.

{{ Mature for language.  Happens previous to the Dragoons' meeting April 20th. }}

She blew out a last breath of smoke and dropped the cigarette, crushing it out with her toe.  “Why are you bothering me, Ben?” she asked, turning toward the crunch of snow.

The shield flying through the air caught her in the midsection, driving the air from her lungs and knocking her from her feet.  He was on her in a second, one hand around her throat and a fist smashing into the side of her face.

“WHERE ARE THEY?” Harrigan roared, the sound making the ringing in her head worse.  She smiled.

A single man stood on the edge of the sea, watching the sun as the golden disk sank into the horizon.  As the last ray of light seemed to extinguish it’s self in the endless sea, the man turned and began walking back to the small camp hidden in one of the many small secluded coves.

“Time to go,” He said as he approached the small group, pushing his hat up to look at his people, “Sun has set and we need to get our packages to the Cave.”

Three sets of eyes turned to the packages, both tied up with rope and seemingly sleeping  on the sand inside a small cave, guarded by their companion. With a nod

“They should be docile enough to toss onto the back of mules and throw a blanket over,” One dark skinned man said as he headed towards the line of pack animals.

“Sergeant Forrester? I'm lookin' fer a Sergeant Forrester...”

Alynore sighed and rubbed her eyes as she turned to see a young boy—not much older than the Prince, if she had to judge—being pointed her way by a far too amused guard. She adjusted her text books on her arm and tried to smooth that damnable skirt. “Yes, what is it?”

She so hated wearing this dress.

But, Mooo-oom! How am I ever going to get better as a mage if I don't get to go anywhere but the training yard? They told me not to shatter any more dummies. I guess people with feet don't like walking on frozen splinters.

Little one, you're only ninety-eight. There are creatures... predators out there. And I don't want anything to happen to you.

===

Arcane energies flowed through her fingers. Her target had been chosen, the spell incantation was almost complete. A flash of blue-purple light reflected off the trees as the spell completed. 

"Baaaa-aaa!"

I come for you.

I bleed, knowing that each drop is in your name.

I will chase you in this choking, binding smoke.  Through the dark, no matter how deep I must push.  

I felt you break away from me...

For the second time.

Seyrena closed the Sky Diary shut and set it on the small table she'd brought up beside the hammock she'd hung for herself. She'd needed to get away from it all, sort out her thoughts, and the best way to do so was through some expository writing. And not, in fact, through flying. Flying was for the joy that came with it, and Seyrena could not shake out of her somber mood. After the raid on that cottage on Lordamere Lake...

She scowled. So many unresolved loose ends. Why had Vanista given up so easily? She'd seemed so very spirited when she spurned Seyrena's deception, but then had immediately after begun to acquiesce to all requests. Had she shaken the woman that badly with her sudden proximity? No; she couldn't believe Vanista was so tactically inept. Which raised another question entirely. She had to have known she was outnumbered and outclassed. Why had it been so easy? Each and every obstacle and pitfall was brushed aside so easily. Why didn't she fight?

Crazy just pure fucking crazy.

They're acting like two school children with a crush on each other but think other has cooties when out in public.

Fancy cake's  the immaturity of them in public was just...gods the tossing food and Shryn cutting off his ponytail.

Then the ball, they were so sweet on each other I had to scrap sugar off my tongue.

And she still thinks she's being discrete, that no one notices them panting over each other.

((Rated mature for murder))

The death knight sat on the balcony, watching over the "workers" that tended to the grapes on the vine. Frost should set in soon, and with frost would come ice wines. Wonderful profit, she'd heard, not that anyone here actually knew a thing about caring for a vinyard.

Idly sliding the beads on her prayer-rope between her fingers, silently mouthing the words to prayers long chanted and indented into her soul — if she even had one — Vanista Nightfire thought.

Unbidden, memories flashed across her mind.

* * *

She had detonated the bitch's own grenade, hitting the ground so the pulse of nullifying magic had streamed overhead. She had heard Shryn'Dael's scream — words that cut off sharply — broken into the sound of shattering glass, crystal, splintering wood and tearing cloth.

A few nights ago, I brought a young woman into the custody of The Light of the Sun. At the time, it was believed to be a kidnapping.

He was a tall dark man, his skin pale, face slightly hidden. From what I recall, I was standing in the Exchange next to my husband, talking over with a new friend, Nelth. I witnessed that tall dark man pick up the lady and toss her over his shoulder and walk away with her as she struggled to get free. Her companion, a turtle, loyal little one, tried its best to prevent its mistress being taken off against her will, but to no avail.

For a few moments, I paused and hoped a guardian, an arcane guardian, something would intervene, but when it looked as if nobody would stop this, I had to take this into my own hands.

Jumping the hedge and sprinting over to them, I fired a volley of flashing light into the kidnapper’s eyes to temporarily faze him. Long enough to call out for a Blood Knight.

"Where is the small orc?"

It was the wrong question to ask, and the long-haired elf watched with amusement as Tanakyll whirled, snarling at him. He set the armor and weapons down and leaned back against the wall of the inn, arms folded. Once the story had come out--

"You can always make another."

She growled, reaching for her leggings. "Always so calm."

He shrugged. "Makes a nice counter to your frequent bouts of insanity."

She snorted. "You are the one who got stuck watching an orc. Must have done something wrong."

The elf frowned at that, running a hand through his hair. It was a habit he had obviously picked up from Tiradell, and the knight who had til now been quietly working to strap on his plate stifled a small chuckle. Tana glared at them both.

Tiradell swallowed, face tensing back into its expression of worry. "We'll find him, Tana."

So...yeah...I'm fucked.

Bend me over the gateway to Stormwind and screw me sidways, I'm fucked. Ya'd figure that, with all my ingenious plans, they'd niver back fire. Ha. Yeah, 'bout that. Turns out, I'm no' ingenious! Nor, do I know how to hide bo-A large black scribble covers the next few sentences- And those fuckin' Volanthius minnions found him before I could do anything! I'm getting rusty, I swear...

((Fancy Cakes IS back to normal this coming Sunday, August 29th! See you there hopefully!

This is late! But that's nothing unusual for me. The events here are just before: http://www.rp-haven.com/blog/boss/back))

For her, the most disconcerting thing was that she could never be sure she was alone when she woke. Night or day, it could be quiet for long stretches, as it often was, and then, seemingly at random, He might start asking her questions without any preamble. Sometimes it was well over an hour, sometimes just a moment.

“What do you know about the Velstand informants? Can you name them?”

((Late update compared to entries by others!

Braedyn's predicament isn't exactly public, though her disappearance is mysterious and unprecedented, but cause for concern (and gossip!) is likely if you attended Cakes last week. And her last name, as mentioned in this blog, is NOT general public knowledge, I appreciate your discretion between OoC knowledge and IC knowledge. ))

Very early on Saturday morning...

Weekly report - Aug. 10 - Aug. 15

Tuesday Aug. 10 - observed the Felsworn gathered around a cart; discussion seemed little to do with others, mostly of others within their own circle, personal difficulties, and playful banter.  Did notice an open box within the cart filled with weapons and tabards.  I was unable to identify the pattern on the tabards.  There was also a sealed lockbox, was unable to see what was inside.  Later in the day I followed Avaraelia, overhearing her advising an orc who was following their ways asking for instruction in wielding the fel; she instructed him to find a warlock.  Shortly thereafter a young girl, very young, approached Avaraelia and informed her that on her mother’s death, she had been instructed to follow the Felsworn.  I attempted to dissuade her, but am unsure whether my attempts were successful; her name is Lunaliska, her mother was apparently a mage of some power, who has recently died.

Cities were often constructed on top of a nexus. Stormwind was one of these cities where the ley lines came together like a magical power grid. Akiri was sitting on one such power line that shot like an artery through the mage district in Stormwind towards the mage tower. Akiri had been off the drugs for a while now. Her withdrawals hed decreased, but her desire for them would likely never go away. The only signs of her addiction that manifested anymore were severe migraine headaches when she avoided all sources of mana or little shivvers when she was confronted with potential drug sources.

After her discussion with the old scribe the night before, she figured there couldn't be any harm in absorbing enough magic to make the headaches stop. She sat cross legged in the grass and relaxed as she let the proximity of the ley line soothe her nerves. She dared not touch it or she would probably cuase an explosion of some sort. Akiri closed her eyes and imagined herself back in Azshara on the beach with no Naga around and the wind blowing in from the sea. As she enjoyed her imagination, she was joined by an eye that reminded her of a snake's eye and a voice came from it, "You like it here? Go ahead and take the power beneath your feet. You could make this a reality." It was a tempting offer. Even if the magical powers of the ley lines ripped her to shreds, it wouldn't be such a bad way to go as far as Akiri thought. The voice seemed to know what she was thinking about the terrible power of the lines, "You're right, there are worse ways to die. Just tap a little bit." Akiri's right hand absentmindedly left her lap and traced along the ground where the power was flowing and the voice barked at her, "Hurry up and do it!"

The attack at Fancy Cakes had caused serious damage to her Torso. Akrish left a trail of blood and oil leading out of the city and dissappearing into the forest. Akrish leaned against a tree and opened a bag of tools to begin her repair when everything went black. Two other Blood Elves silenty approached; one stood guard while the other fixed the damaged unit. When the damage had been contained, the one standing guard picked her up and carried her off to a safehouse while the other packed away the tools and cleaned up any evidence of their presence.

All of them had known when Number 3 had been hurt and were recalled from their clandestine activities. Numbers 1 and 2 had assisted the damaged unit while others began cleaning up any evidence of her trail once it hit the forest and covered each other from the shadows. Number 7 was sent into the city to gather more information on the events of the night.

Mairead enters her small apartment in Dalaran and locks the door behind her. Her green eyes focus on the bare floor where she had sketched out a summoning circle earlier in the day. Her voice raises up in a soft song as she moves towards the nearby table, her hand brushing against the overstuffed pouch at her side.

Continued from: http://www.rp-haven.com/blog/theraesia/losers_weepers

Theraesia von Haller cursed her own stupidity for the ninth or tenth time that afternoon.  She should have know that Ilsa would be somewhere near Rudy.  She shouldn't have gone charging in blindly.  She should have ...  There was no point in second guessing.  Now she was very securely tied to a chair in Rudy and Ilsa's front room.  She tried to move a bit, to test the ropes once again.

"I really wouldn't bother.  You're quite securely tied."  Ilsa walked into the room followed by an orc laden with parcels.  "I checked the restraints myself."

"Had a lot of practice tying people up?  I didn't know you were into that sort of thing."