Scriptorium

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I've been running a trial of CoH for a change of pace, but like anything I do with roleplay I end up writing. So I figured I would share the material here, for folks who enjoy reading my stuff (if such folks exist). I'll just add comments to this thread with links to the material. Hope you enjoy it, and if you're about on Virtue, feel free to drop me a line as Eldrath.

((Contains mature content. Discretion Advised.))

**

Baron Arlon Gainsward walked carefully across the floor of his bed chamber, a single candle casting a warm glow on his face. The room had been opulently furnished. Arlon spared no expense. Fine tapestries hung on the walls from the old looms of Stratholme, before the war. Large ironwood wardrobes held a collection of robes of state, tailored in fine silk and rich velvet. By all accounts, Baron Gainsward was a minor noble, but Arlon lived by the principle that if one looked the part of a Duke, then a Duchy would find him in time. He stopped next to the tall four poster and set the candle holder down on the night stand next to the bed.

The manor lay still and dark when Fanshen returned home that evening. It was late and even the miscreants of old towne had slunk off to their bed. No one gave the cloaked woman on horseback a second glance as she checked it and dismounted. The ring of keys jingled in her hand as she opened the gate and led the beast in. Turning she locked it again and then, grabbing the reins, she walked him up to the stables on the side path. The courtyard lay in shadow, inky black, the figures of the statuary vague and ghostly in the dim light of the almost new moon. The clop of the stallion's shoes on the cobblestones of the path and the gurgling of the fountains were the only sounds.

The sound of the dulcimer drifted down the corridors of the manor house, the home of Floriae's School for Girls. It was late, the cathedral bells had tolled the second hour of the morning but the school was still awake. In one hallway, a pair of nymphets ran from a young Count, their laughter tinkling the air. They held up their skirts, so as not to trip over them. The pair ducked into a side chamber, the lord on their heels. In another hall a small cluster of noblemen and beautiful women walked, admiring the paintings hung on the walls and sipping fine wine from crystal goblets. Talk issued from a dozen rooms. Good cheer seemed to abound. A small coterie of enthusiasts milled in and out of the library where the music emanated from. Some sat in the large plush chairs, their courtly wigs discarded in the heat of the crowded chamber. Others stood, their talk forgotten for the moment as they watched the woman in the center of the room playing.

((Xis and Al have been making quite the smiting team over the last couple days, so I figured a write up was in order. *hugs*))

**

Xistlah's mace whipped down in a blur and crashed against the dark iron's stout helm. The metal rang with the impact but the steel held true, unfortunately for her. Still the dwarf's head, though hard, was made flesh and bone, not the stone it seemed. He staggered back, dragging his pick-axe in a daze. The dwarf blinked, trying to clear his vision. Before him, two draenei women raised their weapons in unison. He swung out with his pick wildly and somehow managed to hit them both, slashing with its point and spraying the ground with blue ichor from her side. He shook his head, while she hopped back, cursing in her demon tongue and clutching at her side. His vision cleared and he eyed Xistlah balefully. Then he hefted his pick-axe and waded in, his muscular arms swinging it in wide powerful arcs.

((Just a snippet of Fanshen getting ready for the Gala.))

**

Fanshen picked up one of the small casks from her vanity. She flipped the latch and brought out one of the small brushes she used for her paint. Had she been attending as an escort this evening, she would have had dressers attend her to wrap her in jewels and finery so that she would look the part. The ordeal would have begun earlier and continued until right up until she stepped into the carriage to go to the gala. She dipped the brush into the colored powder and began to expertly stroke over her eyelids, tinting her pale skin warm with rose and violets about her eyes. She examined herself critically, turning her head this way and that. Some rouge followed, adding just a hint of warmth to her cheeks. Then she selected a stain and dabbed it to her lips. She pursed them, spreading the burgundy color around.

The private bath chambers of the headmistress of Floriae's School for Girls were not the ornate contrivances fashioned for the entertainment of its guests. No nymphs flanked the doorway, brazen or coquettish, frozen in alabaster. Neither did frescoes depict any bacchanal of tangled bodies, crazed in lust. Simple white marble gleamed on the floor of a circular chamber, the center of which comprised a large bath basin. Polished brass fittings shone at the side of it. Deep in the bowels of the manor, a gnomish boiler supplied steaming hot water to fill the bath. It steamed the entire room, leaving everything hanging in fog and blurring the mirrors that encircled the room. The flood had been turned down to a small trickle to keep the bath warm. Thick bubbles drifted atop the water. A scent of jasmine and sandalwood permeated the air, sweetening the scent of the soaps.

((As with all Yuta entries, there maybe a shock or two in here. Kaldorei Culture is not our own. You've been warned.))

**

I can hear the water from the lake lapping at the shore and birds chirping quietly as they roost in their nests at this late hour of the night. The moons almost full but it's waning. Her shadow sneaks over her face. Wind gusts off the sea and carries salt spume this far up the cliffs even. It makes me think of the docks and ship she left on down in Auberdine. She deserved the break, she did so well. It's not a problem either. My breasts are as full as hers. The babies have food. Unexpected, yes, but not a surprise. If we could have shared a womb, I think we would have. As it happened, we shared the pains, if not the blood. She's so strong, it was over quickly and well done. Then the twins were in our arms.

(( Just a warning, this piece contains a sex scene, set to be as tasteful as possible while still aiming to stir the blood. Rated "R" The prudish might care to avoid this post. Thanks.))

**

The library of Floriae's School for Girls was perhaps the most surprising luxury contained within the huge old manor house. It sat in the center of the structure, acting as a hub for the entire building, rising up through each of the three stories to a high dome. Frescos adorned this, casting an image of the dusking sky with rich hues of indigo and crimson. Small gems and gold leaf traceries made out the constellations. They flickered in the light of the crystal globes that were spaced evenly about the circular chamber, each containing a small imprisoned fire elemental trained to wane and wax its light at a word. These had been a recent addition to the library. In times past, the small niches had held oil lamps. However, with the war on and oil prices on the rise, Emmeliaste had finally decided to replace them with something more convenient.

The park seemed strangely quiet to Eridah as she sat on the stoop of the bed and breakfast she'd taken lodging at for the few days she'd be visiting Stormwind. She had friends who she'd wanted to introduce to the baby, mostly the girls at Fanshen's school who'd been pestering their mistress once they'd heard about the boy. Fanshen had been amused by it, while having no need to see the boy herself. So they'd arranged the visit, Zeldi letting out rooms for the maestra where she'd be most comfortable. After the seclusion of Ashenvale, Stormwind seemed incredibly hectic to her with the throngs of people who lined its streets. They'd timed the visit with Children's Week however, so many of the citizenry of the human capital had taken off to remote parts with their young charges in tow. At this late hour, the night elf had the park to herself practically.

Published in the society page of the Stormwind Sentinel, under the column of Hectae Arden

**

Indeed my dear readers, I have a new morsel to tide you over, a new confection to make your taste buds for scandal water. Your esteemed reporter, myself Hectae Arden, has had to most delightful of documents dropped in her lap, due to the generosity of donors who's names will of course remain anonymous. The document, or ledger as I may say to be more descriptive of the text, is no other that the personal financial records of the well known author and cultural icon, Lady Dalloway formerly Lady Salisbury of the northern provinces of Silverpine. I know that literate gentle-people like yourselves are well acquainted with the prolific works of the former Lady Salisbury. Her published missives have given many a nights amusement to yours truly, I can assure you all. The tales of her exploits and ribaldry are legend, true or not. And the aplomb they've been delivered to us has always whetted our appetites for more, dear readers. Which indeed is why this little book is such the choice morsel that it is, because it shows us a bit of the truth behind the scandalous reputation of the former Lady Salisbury.