plans

That last note I sent was not my best work, but lately it's been difficult to concentrate on my goal.  It was more complicated then just taunting that idiot Harrigan.  I adjusted my borrowed armor and ran a hand through my purposefully dirty and now white colored hair, before shoving the helmet back onto my head.  I had been in a rush when I wrote it, I had lingered to long in Stormwind as I waited to see if she would visit me.   The hustle of relief soldiers that stood with me in front of the portal made it easy to be just another face in the crowd.  I would pick up the rest of the costume when I make it to Shattrah; an old friend would be willing to let me borrow what I need.


"Have you given up then on being anything beyond what they dictate to you?"

From an Inn in Orgrimmar…

He would have been the size of an ogre if he ever had the will to eat, but eating required more then the lift of a hand and the downing of mana, so he wasted.  Too lazy to care what happened to him, his mind, his body or the world around him.  Long black hair tangled in a mess no finer then kelp lost on a sandy beach. So easily tempted if one said they had cheap Mana.  He was a worthless slip of useless breath, a grain of sand on the same beach.  I do not know how he died, that was not of my choosing. He was a present, a gift for one who knew what to do with Sloth.

Kloreen walked into the giant bright colored city. The ship had luckily crashed down the beach from Booty Bay and she had obviously survived, though lost the whole shipment. The elves walked around, unaware that the genius Goblin had arrived to provide them the means to kill eachother in style and impress the women and men. She imediately aproached a couple. Sure the GPA specializes in weapons, but that didn't mean they weren't flexible. She offered the couple GPS's newest product that was hitting Goblins by storm; The Relationship Enhancer! Ever wanted more in your relationship when the lights are out or whenever there is someone to fornicate with nearby for elves? With these devices that improve your happiness, you can! The couple refused, but seemed like they'd buy some later... Kloreen had an eye for sex fiends and that Xisor and Lindsumthin' looked like a pair. Either way, she got information on Lath's employer, House Volatile.

Deep within the Citadel, lie the Duke's Situation Room. A combination of goblin, gnomish, and arcane technology,  with a Quel'dorei flair for slight decadence. Leading officers of the various army groups under Starscythe's command gathered, thirty in all for this solemn event. The tension was thick as each eye and breath sighed under the reports coming in from agents specifically dispatched throughout Azeroth.

Stormwind sacked within the park area.

Orgrimmar dousing out the flames.

Strategic land masses across Azeroth were forever altered to turn tides of favor to either major coalition.

The passing of the guard from Thrall to Garrosh.

Vol'jin and his tribe to the southeast in a dual move of disagreement with Hellscream's policies, with finding their own future.

I'll show 'em useless!  Tashorr fumed as he stalked through the undergrowth, moving quietly despite the fury that gripped him.  He breathed in a deep breath of warm jungle air, trying to calm himself to keep focused on moving silently.  The sea witch was sending her murlocs against the Darkspear, and they'd refused his help!  He was thirteen years old, nearly a Darkspear man!  His scowl darkened further as he made his way through the jungle.  The murlocs had stopped coming for a few hours now, but everybody knew the sea witch was just calling up more.  The bright green plants only waved slightly as he stalked by, his fur blending in with the foliage.  Tashorr's fury softened as he grinned.  I'll show 'em useless!

“You’re not going.”

Melidane’s body barred the pathway between the door and I, taller then me and the thicker bone structure of a human, she had the physical advantage.  It wasn’t hard, I’m short even for a blood elf and fel wasted thin,  it made me strong in magic only, physically was an entirely different matter.

“Move.”

"It doesn't hurt me.
You wanna feel how it feels?
You wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me?
You wanna hear about the deal I'm making?" Placebo

The slow rise of his chest was real.  Laying beside me I could finally let go the fear it was a dream.  He didn’t need to breathe, I wonder if he knew he did it in his sleep.  He had no use for air, his heart did not beat, and his organs…well they were no longer even in him, held together by runes engrained in his spine.  Runes that at one point in time, I had shoved a knife through.

Her hair smelled of bloodthissle, its soft texture pressed into my cheek, with an underlying smell of some sweet herb and the very subtle tangy scent of poison.  To the outward eye we looked like nothing more then two females sitting on a bench, locked in an embrace of either friends or lovers, my arm around her shoulders and neck, her back against my chest.  What lay hidden was the ever growing stain of red in the mid section of my shirt, and my fingernails embedded in her back, the skin there already twisted black with corruption.

“Tell me who you are.”  I whispered my lips along the edge of her ear, at each struggle I set my nails deeper, pushed a little more corruption into her skin… we had our violent confrontation close to the bridge of Silvermoon, it was over quickly, the girl hadn’t been sent here to kill me.

"I need to examine your soul. That will require rather an odd blend, and no small amount of trust on your side. I am loathe to involve other warlocks in this matter, as I hope you can understand."

  I flung the door open with every intent to let Drakys know I wasn’t welcoming this. Not only had I just gotten out of a room where everything went to hell, I couldn’t even hurt anyone in the process… keeping my temper in check means I either need time or the next poor soul I would run into would feel the brunt of it. Drakys apparently volunteer himself. He sat at his desk in a office below freezing and watched me rage at him, breath coming out in white puffs of air while fel rolled off me so thick it was heat against the frigid atmosphere. I spat at him about the situation and about his vile death knight lord who was in huge need of a female blood elf handing him his ass.

(( Continued from Policy Pirate ))

(( In which our 'heroine' has found, upon leaving a business appointment, that her way out of the building is blocked by a most unsavoury individual.  Can she think of an escape?!  This wall o'dialogue is to break up the remainder of the story a bit, as it was getting very long and unwieldy  :) ))

My King is shaken.

There is no admittance, no need, it is known. Among us, those of us who do know. The self-titled heroes of our enemies have toppled Naxxramas. Our plans have been set back, they are not going smoothly. Our dear alchemist, the Dalaran abandoneer Noth, no longer stands - what a waste... Utter fools, all of them. If such a key necropolis has been savaged and once-reliable persons are so easily follied, what else can these "heroes" do to my King's lands...?

...No, I cannot question, I must not. 

He must not see weakness... But I wonder, now, when I see 'Barachiel's' face, is it worth losing everything again? Must I suffer for a King, once so gracious, whose maps are being erased? Is there anything left of Arthas Menethil...?

The Interregator smiled slightly. It had taken a few days to test his suspicions about the orb, but they seemed to have proven correct. Thus far, Subject A had been obnoxiously stubborn. He had shown himself to be resistant to the various torture methods that the Interregator was sure wouldn't leave him incurably damaged, physically or mentally. As much as he would like to simply break the arrogant young Dragoon, his orders were clear; Subject A had to be able to return to Stormwind and appear to continue his ordinary life when all was said and done. But if he was right about what this orb could do, then this assignment might be over by the time the day was out. With one last look at the reports regarding the orb's function and the results of the  tests that his associates had run, the Interregator took the glowing sphere from the table and left the room.

Artisania Marveloso did not escape unscathed.

 She walked slowly through the staging area on the wharves of Quel'danas, her robes bloodied and torn, hiding beneath swiftly-healed cuts and bruises that would require a bit more tending to ease.  The whole of her felt hollowed, trembling with a latent echo of the powerful magic the Prince had used against them, no less that of his followers.  She was exhausted, certainly, but more so her heart was broken.

Taneel finally fell back on his bed, his eyes couldn’t stay open, and now, he was confident he had set everything he could in motion. Marar and Gales were both still running about the city on their respective missions but he was fairly certain his plan would succeed. He looked at the scroll in one hand with a grin, the back at the small device strapped to his wrist. Everything was in place, all he had to do now was find Maldrin and he could reverse the effects of Rhahasia’s suicide and this time he wouldn’t be too late. A thought struck him and he jumped back to his feet.

From the personal writings of Shelli Anthania:

I received 2 messages while I was visiting me mum in Elwynn.  One was labeled “Willing Pawns” and listed 3 names who I am assuming are low level Cult members.  The other appeared to be written by a machine, similar to one I have seen before at Azorath’s secret S.I. base in the mountains bordering Ashenvale.  I showed the letters to Master Shaw, but he seemed…not himself, almost angered even but I cannot say for sure what is going on inside his head.  He ordered me to find these ‘pawns’ and kept the original letters, however, I did make a copy of the 2nd letter before meeting him so I could have my own to refer to and share with my investigation team.