Stormwind

Eryth and I perch on a ridge just outside Stormwind.

Like two ravens, in a flock of doves.

He seems my only friend in the world, at the moment.

I should leave.

I shouldn't have come.

In the end, we each do what we must.

Ythgar asked for someone who deserves death. So that he may feed his hunger on someone...who deserves the punishment.

But how does one simply...obtain a criminal? By that time, Ythgar might have lost himself completely. And if that occurs...I am the best equipped one to...to...to put him down.

There was no answer on the Marquis' line.

This was a bad idea.

Even Stephan's fearful little voice would be a boon, now. I would have some idea of where to go.

The trip to Stormwind had passed faster than expected- once I'd convinced my drake, Eryth, to fly me here. He'd never really liked the Marquis, or the...'relationship' that existed between us. But for me, there wasn't much the dragon would not do.

Even if it meant helping me to infiltrate Stormwind.

He could simply take the form of a high elf, and walk right in.

Me, though...here I sit in the Elwynn grass, and wonder if I should take my chances at trying something similar.

If I should simply strap this Hallow's End mask on...and walk in as though I, too, were still a member of the Alliance.

The veritable capital of the Alliance.

One does not simply walk into Stormwind.

“Miss Recruit Lilli?”

Stephan - his young voice, frightened.

Ythgar's grandson.

They claim my methods are contradictory, yet dress themselves in expensive clothing.

They claim to do more for the needy, minus the same risks and sacrifices.

One might be a close friend; now she questions my motives.

One might be closer still; now she fears guilt by association.

One might break me in half, by all appearances.

All of this from defending the careless gnome who might have been my mentor.

Some residents bathe in small tubs, the water carried in from outside.  Others visit public swimming places, though clothes must stay on.  I'm told society's elite have indoor plumbing, even functional showers.

I rely on a small brook in Elwynn, too shallow to warrant much attention.

My heart races before every attempted theft.  To maintain focus, I remind myself why further failure is unacceptable.

It's not always about imprisonment or injury; my motivation depends on the situation.

No Sparklematic machine, no wash basin, no soap.  Agitation is done the old-fashioned way.

A bit of vinegar helps remove stains and odors; one jug lasts for a month.

Gnomish height has its advantages.  A grain crate makes a passable bunk.

The blanket is tattered, redolent of dirt and my own sweat, despite several washings in the pond.

Sometimes there are spiders.  Sometimes I oust a stray cat; when I fall asleep, she returns to share the space regardless.

Thieves require energy, energy requires health, health requires food.

Sometimes I accept free meals from Lorith and Noxxie.  Charity contravenes training, but going hungry is worse.

Sometimes I fish, though I am no Beisel; the pond is not always forthcoming.

As I struggle to teach myself the fundamentals of a career in which ineptitude leads to imprisonment or even death, you ask me why.

Why commit myself so stubbornly to a dangerous lifestyle, when it's patently obvious I haven't the knack?  Why not get out while I still can, and consider myself fortunate that the victims of my botched attempts at pickpocketing thought me too harmless to warrant reporting to the local guard?  Why spend my evenings lurking in dingy alleys and abandoned buildings, puzzling over how to score my next meal, when I could pick up a real job and live in reasonable comfort?

Stormwind City, Old Town, midnight.  A gnome clad in weather-beaten leather darts down a dimly lit alleyway.  She glances warily from side to side; her eyes narrow as she searches for movement in the darkness.  Assured of her solitude, she climbs into the packing crate serving as her temporary residence.

((explicit for language and a brief but slightly gory shooting.))

"Happy Birthday!!!"

If it was possible, over the past few months he had actually become acclimatized to loud noises. As his mother flicked on the manor-house's oil lamps and the guests all screamed, he simply stared out. He seemed too numb to even blink as he forced a smile at everyone and waved weakly. He wrapped his arms around his mother as she walked serenely down the steps of the central staircase and embraced him. "We're all so happy to have you home." she told him, crushing him as if he would disappear again if she were to let go. Håmish chuckled for a moment before coughing,  "Mother..my wound...". The aging noblewoman nodded slightly and stepped back, "I'm sorry...its just been so long dear...". The returning soldier sighed for a moment before replying.

"Aye..I know." 

The day had started off rather normal for Nelenna, well normal as it had been the last several weeks. With the extra duties she'd been doing to help out as well as punishment for herself. While every so often a brooding depression threatened to swamp down upon her Nel refused to mope about staying cheerful except for some private moments within her room. Today however turned out to go from normal to strange fairly quickly.
While helping the quartermaster get caught up on minor paperwork the Dragoon heard two guardsmen talking as they went by.

"You can't be serious, how'd it get here then?"

"Hitched a ride on the Kraken when it came back from Northrend." The second guard replied matter of factly.

"Hitched a ride? Thats ludicrous! Those things are huge! how'd the crew manage not to see the damned thing?"

Amelorah sighed helplessly as she checked a struggling Llorar or La'grima for ticks. She swore to herself she'd never leave her children near the long grass or the trees next to the Goldshire graveyard unattended as long as could be allowed, even if she could see them and had left her ever guarding felhunter, Thoodhum, with them. Hell, he probably started the whole hide-somwhere-by-the-graveyard-so-we-can-save-sissy-from-the-grass-monster-and-scared-mommy-out-of-her-mind game. Thoodhum was smart enough to. Or it could have been La'grima, her youngest. He was, even at this young toddlerhood age, a little too smart and usually the mastermind of these little games despite the fact he wasn't able to form words correctly and was still talking baby gibberish, but that didn't mean the others didn't know what he was saying. Llorar was smart too, but he seemed to be a follower of his little brother. Jen...

Major Andel Craycort, Stormwind Royal Guard, stared down at the opened letter in front of him, his thoughts churning.  He shouldn't have been surprised,  Heck, he wasn't surprised.  Should he have expected anything different?  He glanced down at the most stinging paragraph once again:

"We regret to inform you that the evaluation panel convened for the purpose of considering your future promotion within the ranks of the Stormwind Royal Guard has found that, although admirable, your service record lacks sufficient grounds for promotion to higher rank at this time.  Specifically, your lack of recent command experience is particularly disturbing, and we would highly recommend that you vigorously pursue such command opportunities as present themselves in the future, if you wish to further your career."

If the city were half as dangerous as the Marquis said, she should keep Ago with her, but the girl didn't yet trust the wolf in the busy, midday streets. She didn't trust him so long as foolish hands reached to touch his thick white coat, to pat his head like he was some giddy hound.

She'd already had too many close calls, and after what happened by the Abbey*, Kudrun wasn't taking any chances. It would be a sorry thing for some careless finger to get lost in those shining teeth, but that wouldn't be the worst of it. Children loved to pull and tug at animals, and their little faces were so low...

    I never thought I'd come back here, ever.

    Eilwen crouched behind a hedge along a simple wooden fence.  The leaves were still moist from the night she discovered while pulling back a few branches.  As she looked through the gap, she immediately spotted two guards at the main gate.  It looked as if they were inspecting all visitors before granting them entry into Stormwind.

    The harbor guards may be less suspicious of anyone coming from there she thought to herself.  It would require traveling half a day to Westfall and if she couldn't get a boat, she'd be stuck swimming.  The frontgate was her best option but how, she thought to herself.

0300

It's going to be a warm, muggy day, Sir Andel Craycort thought as he rode his charger out of the city gates, across the bridge, and into the Valley of Heroes.  He shaded his eyes against the harsh noonday sun reflecting off the bright pavement, and made his way past the workman attempting to repair the damage done by Deathwing to the statue of Danath Trollbane.  He smiled wryly at the sight, wondering what Danath, still very much alive and at Honor Hold on the remains of Draenor, would think of the dragon's attempt to 'cut him off at the ankles', as it were.  Andel continued his way along the causeway until he came to his usual spot in the welcome shade of a great oak, a spot that afforded him a view of the little Valley, the moat, and the great city beyond it.

The next morning dawned unusually crisp. Cool breezes blew in from the forests bordering Stormwind, whipping their ways around the streets like a group of mischievous children, and the sun was barely peeking its head over the horizon at the sleepy city. Ordinarily, Rhianon would still be asleep at this hour, nestled against Quincy’s flank, but this morning found her standing in the city streets before Dolraan’s apartment, staring with absurd fascination at the cobblestones at her feet. She had actually been up most of the night, partly due to being intermittently pelted with apples, and partly due to her mind constantly finding new worries.

The sun is warm and welcoming, the occasional cloud shadow scuttling over the cobblestones. A light wind blows in from the forest, bringing with it the smell of fresh planted fields, blossoming flowers, and newly-mowed grass.

Aerie waited until the Matron had half a moment between children's crises to step forward. “Always such a busy time for you ladies,” the hunter said with a smile as she held out a mug.

Nightingale laughed and took the mug, gratefully inhaling the aromatic steam. “You always do make the best tea, Aerie. Thank you. Here to help a child this week?” She sipped from the mug, some of the nervous energy tension relaxing out of her shoulders.

The stone was cool to the touch as I sat and waited. The view from the top breathtaking, and sobering. The grass surrounding the lake was bright, likely due to the recent spring rains the city had. I felt my eyes drifting towards the lake, a twinge of pain in my chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I let them settle on the fishermen, the children running along the shoreline- and the adventurers that lazed at the end of an evening.

This -was- my home, by why didn't it feel like it? Why did I run; leaving my family behind to forget? A man turned the corner from the market, making his way down to the lake. I wouldn't have noticed- had it not been for the flurry of auburn hair. Mel.

I stand at the threshold, watching shafts of sunlight play on the cobblestones.

My breath catches.

“...Can you hear me?” Pinapple’s voice, through the static that had constantly played on the guildstones for the week they had been trapped here.

She thought it was a week, anyway. Hard to tell anymore, after not being allowed to sleep, nor given food since…

When had she eaten last?