Midnight in my small garden was the perfect time to think, warm nights like this one with the curling scent of flowers left over from the day. Halodante’s weight pressed against my leg, her soft humming voice, sightless eyes staring off into darkness none of us would ever see. I ran my hand through her fine white hair, it was getting long. Strands of silk run though my fingers, it caught the scab healing in my palm. Another scar, another mark of loyalty, another blood promise to someone else.

So it had come to this.

They had tried to compromise, asking to meet on neutral ground. The compromise was not accepted. They couldn't be the only ones to bend in this frail alliance, and Cerwis did not trust Shryndael... So she'd asked Drauglos to keep Lirriel under lock and key. She'd expected that Lirriel would listen and stay close to him for her own safety. Clearly, this did not happen.

Jackson leaned over Adele's table.  They spoke for a minute or so.  I couldn't hear anything over the noise of the tavern, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what they were saying.  She smiled and stood, taking his hand as they walked out.  I gave them a couple of seconds and followed.

I slipped into the shadow next to the tavern door, looking up and down the alley for the pair.  I spotted two figures turning the corner onto the street.  She'd have a room somewhere in the neighborhood, Jackson couldn't very well take her back to the barracks after all.  I followed, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.

"Hey buddy."  A call from an alley distracted me for a moment.

I turned, then backed up as I spotted the gleam of knives in the darkness.

"Hand it over or we'll cut you."  Two figures loomed out of the darkness.

Belmilia Carrington-Howell sighed and leaned back in her chair.  "Is that the last of it, Waxford?"

"Yes, my lady."  The estate steward gathered up the stack of papers; manorial accounts, court rolls, custumals, all the information necessary to run the estates and manors that made up the Howell lordship.  "I should have the final accounts ready by this evening."

I remembered why I hated Stormwind so much; the smugness, the self-satisfied smirks, the willful blindness, the hypocrisy.  I'd rather fight demons, at least they stab you in the front - and they don't smile while they do it.  If ever a city deserved to burn ....

The figures all matched up.  There were no irregularities in the reports.  Miss Blanchard was a well-known barrister of good repute.

And yet ...

Doubt lingered.  Forty-five thousand pieces of gold was a large amount of money, raising it would strain her finances severely and losing the money would set back her plans for years.

LaiLanae; child of the Heavens. To those familiar with her, Laila -heavenly blossom- for short. Such a strange name...for a warrior.

Taller than most male night elves, she towered above all but Draenei and Trolls. Her well sculpted form was a sight to behold, equal parts work of art and affront to nature- her musculature bordering on garish for a female. Lean, sinuous chords of strength rippled beneath the flesh, shown easily across her arms and legs as she walked. The small amount of skin she allowed exposed under her breastplate displayed the chiseled ridges of her abdomen and the extreme almost-concave curve of her stomach.

Blackmarrow,

  I know business takes you far away, and I know you are scheduled to be back soon, but I figured I would give you a bit of reading material on your mission. Plus I suppose if anything bad were to come of my actions over the last few weeks, at least when you return you will be prepared as well.

Xannivard walked into Azaryel’s “Office” in Undercity. It was a dark and rather neatly kept laboratory, racks of potions and ingredients lined the walls. In the center stood a work bench filled with half-completed/dismantled mechanical devices, mostly goblin with a scattering of gnomish and legion among them. Two torches sputtered from their wall mounts, the oil in them running low, or purposely left with very little the demon was unsure. A very thin layer of dust covered the room, leaving a second set of foot tracks into the room, something Xannivard had immediately noticed. Heavy booted foot prints.

    I left the company of the Lady Shryn'Dael Keledan and her brother Isinwen shortly before dusk, finding myself in a bad temperament after having to play nobility for the better part of the day. 

Life was bliss for Dutaee, the day before Imtul and he had trained working on his reaction time. Luckily, the pain that shot through his arm and chest whenever his heart began pumping furiously was absent so much so that he was able to keep up with Imtul’s attacks and convince her that he would be able to keep himself alive should a Dragonmaw Skybreaker get close to him

It was early the next morning when Dutaee woke up a thin beam of light reaching in from his window to caress his face. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light around him and, sitting up slowly, he watched the sun rise. One did not enjoy such a simple thing until he was without it for several days, Shadowmoon had no sun rises, and it was always a perpetual dark. He sat there in his bed, his scarred body exposed to the chill morning air flowing in from his window when he felt Imtul move at his side.

I could hear her outside my door, but I ignored the pacing and the shadow that stretched beneath the wood. My hands lay on the side of the bed Iloam had been in, he had disappeared sometime while I was asleep, silly of me to think otherwise.

(( Originally posted @ RealmPortal: January 9, 2007 ))

(( Side story with Games and Wagers by Tahlmorra, and Oriel's part which was called Wagers and Fun, I think. ))

He called me a diamond once, and I have always associated myself with that observation, I consider myself his diamond. It has nothing to do with the lust between us, it is the simple fact that he has made me into what I am and risen me to heights I could not have obtained without him. Who would have known a half mad warlock could survive this long. My sharp edges have their uses, and Blackmarrow has always excelled at finding what to apply them to.

“Little angel go away, Come again some other day
The devil has my ear today, I'll never hear a word you say” APC

Ixinane ran a hand over her swollen face, mottled pink, purples and sick shades of yellow, the right side looked more like the start of a plague then her skin. She had managed to get out for a little bit, away from the haven she had selected in Silvermoon, as soon as she could walk without the need to vomit she knew she had to leave, staying in one place was dangerous.

The oil lamps flickered, casting warm ribbon like filaments of light through their crystal glass as Utmo pulled the bolts and opened the door of foyer to the night air. Fanshen stepped in, pulling a heavy black cloak from her shoulders which he took. She smiled up at the swarthy skinned man and he did the same down at her.