short post

The Ranger-General showed up to the city's gates eventually.

It simply wasn't in the expected manner.

The stench was over-powering, as the first monstrosities lumbered into sight. Fleshy mockeries of the living shambled, shoulder-to-shoulder...the foremost of the gruesome army being freshly slain elves, along with a handful of...spirits.

One of whom was quickly introduced by the white-haired Arthas as the “former” Ranger-General. 

It seemed an age since she had last set foot in her former home.

At that, it had been quite some time...

The last time she'd seen these glittering walls, she'd been suffering from the curse of mortality.

“Boss, its been a good while since we secured the Pig 'n Whistle...”

The grimey rogue broached the topic tentatively with the dark-skinned alien. He wasn't sure if she was in one of her moods today, or not.

She'd been gone for the better part of two weeks, what with the Tol Barad flu that resisted healing..and then all her time spent at the club in Dalaran, the next week...

 Talk about coming back to a mountain of paperwork- and one pissed off boss.

We kick in da webs

dat nevah be caused by chance

fightin' it...binds ya.

Ya should not struggle -

follow a strand, little bug.

Da otha t'reads wait.

Love.

Many claim to know it.

I am not one of them.

((There's some chess termonology in the title/ending haiku. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glossary_of_chess#En_prise ))

Jericho had offered, hadn't he? Would that be enough to suffice, to take the place of him?

"Things are not always what they seem - the first appearance deceives many;the intelligence of a few perceives what has been carefully hidden..."

Lily lay in her hammock, curled in the blanket that Aelberyn had gifted her. She reached a slender hand down to scratch behind her kitten's ears, smiling as the mottled calico purred loudly, resting in her elf's lap. She then slid her scarred hand behind her head -tugging her white-blonde hair out of her ponytail in a languid motion, catching Asarel's soft voice wafting out of her comm again.

The knight smiled to herself – this one made her think.

She liked that.

I'd been restless of late - itchin' for something to keep me busy...active. Keep my mind from buzzing on that big, empty ship. Waves lapping, always slapping incessantly at the barge's wooden hull.

The blue haired Elf looked up from her reading and glanced at the bed longingly.  The moonlight filtered in through the window and seemed to cast a welcoming ray of moonlight upon the pillow and blanket.  Larosa frowned and sighed before turning back to the book in front of her.  The thick leather bound book of the Twilight Cult sat opened to one of the lesser sung hymns.  The words were starting to blur and the Elf closed her eyes, the heels of her hands, massaging away the slight burning sensation.  Ever since they had discovered that the cult had infiltrated the Keep, Larosa found herself back on assignment.  Every chance she had, alone in her room, she pulled it out and read it, attempting to put to memory the songs and rituals of the group.

It was a beautiful day.

It was a day meant for running through the sand, for basking in the sun, and playing the frivolous games of youth. The sun melted through canopies above and beyond Zyjiin, and he knew there was warmth, though it felt hollow. He knew that he walked a trail littered with dead leaves, but he felt nothing. The scents that had once been so strong in the jungle were only a vague memory now.

The sky turned to darkness, and the world wept as nature arched her back in pain under the torment she suffered.  The shudder was felt in every root, every stone, and the sea drew back, exposing cliffs and corals previously hidden beneath its waves. A rush of air followed as birds took to flight, and the jungle became alive as the danger was realized.

     The trees screamed as the wave ripped their canopies from their roots. Splinters of their innards were sent hurdling past her and Zy as they ran for their lives. Too fast. Too fast. It was too fast.

     Zy turned out to be the faster runner. The plate placed too much weight on her and so she couldn’t match his longer strides for the duration that was needed to make it to the grounded Zeppelin.

     The roar of the monstrosity was deafening. This was not a foe that could be killed or defeated, and when the ocean’s shadow replaced the sky Hakka knew she was done for in this race. The noise of the snapping trees and the bellows of the surf numbed her mind to thought, but there were only two things she needed to focus on: Seeing that Zy made it to safety, and then some sort of shelter for herself that may not lead to instant death from the cresting wave.

There he was.

"Alainthal…"

She said the name with an almost religious reverence, her voice slightly metallic in its raspy fervor.  He was as beautiful as she remembered, with his blood red hair and ebon leathers in stark contrast to pale skin inset with eyes like dark emeralds afire with passion, and the expanse of white snow which surrounded them on all sides.  He looked none the worse for wear for his travels, she noted: perhaps a bit rigid, a bit haggard, a bit lean; nothing they couldn't fix in time.  Tears welled in her eyes, leaving icy stains down her face.

He just stared at her, his face an impenetrable mask.

"Sinobel."  He seemed oddly unsurprised at her sudden reappearance in his life.  "I told you not to follow me."

Tess sat in her room in Ixi's abode, she rocked back in forth in her chair at the desk.

It was a small room, a bed, a desk, a chair, and two books on the desk.

One was black and red, it belong to Tess. Her Libram.

The second belonged to Lady Stormcren, pitch black in color.

Tess trailed her finger along the spine of the tome.

"Demonology 101"

Tess flipped it open to the first chapter.

And she began to read.

I once believed I had chosen my profession for the gratitude I was given.

To see that look of pure relief on my patients’ faces, when the pain was at long last replaced with soothing warmth, that is my joy. Fresh blood filling newly repaired vessels, clean and working as intended once more; my desire. Gashes sealed, infection burned away, scars settled and diminished with the time it takes me to draw breath; my skill. The exultation in the sudden release from torment, and the return of function; my gift. I thought I was a healer because they viewed me as a worker of magic, some keeper of great secrets, divinity, in a way.

I know better now.

Why did he have to yell? To block my path to my friend Eranna who has returned and try to force his presence upon me, hands like bars on either side of me, reeking of lust and anger and desire, like some overheated lion in a rut intent on forcing me to the floor so he could reclaim me with his body? I was so very wrong to have let him in.. he is too young. Too young by far, with a boy's impetuous demand that he get all he wishes now and no care for what cost may be had for others.

Taneel smiled as he leapt from the ruined tower. This was a new beginning. Asilia no longer served the Lich King and was going to be able to heal Mandy’s glyphs. This would make the victory over Arthas much sweeter when they struck at his own lands. There was no danger now that he’d need to fight and kill Janiil in this war. And Shorok’s powers here would be broken from Mandy.

Landing on an old, beam, and then leaping over again, Taneel drew his hearthstone. A moment later, he landed in the Aldor inn, mounted Flash Fire, his gryphon, and raced to the portal. He couldn’t wait to tell everyone.