Je suis un homme au pied du mur
Comme une erreur de la nature
Sur la terre, sans d'autres raisons
Moi je tourne en rond, je tourne en rond

I once heard it told that students were much like sheep, useful and even likeable when one paid attention to them, but when instructors turned their backs for even a minute their Apprentices oft ended up falling off a cliff or drowning in a shallow river. The first is an amusing mental image, the second scenario barely even worth noting, yet I personally cannot help but find it most curious to leave my students alone and see what becomes of them.

Halfway there and we have FAMILY PORTRAIT TIME.

For the 30-Day Drawing Challenge HERE.

((Last part of this series. Look back at the other 3 if you want. For anyone following this story, heres a spoiler:We'll meet Diosis again later on. Also imo, I'm kinda happy how this peice came out))

"Diosis, you indeed have gained my interest. I feel sympathy towards you, I really do, is there anything I can do to help you?'' I asked, I think I'm sounding like a child.

"Oh, no, no. You listening to my story and understanding me for what I am is enough. Especially coming from a...Gilnean worgen." He said with a smile, I smiled back.

Bashiok revealed a new Blizzard presence on the official forums earlier; instead of a community manager, however, Nyorloth is a story developer who is now available to post to forum questions about lore and check the forums for what players like and dislike. The Q&A's weren't working out so well, but perhaps with Nyorloth's presence, some info and discussion may come around, like with all the CM's available for other content. Also, the intro post by Bashiok is worth the read. Linked to the WoW Insider post for ease.

A crisp, crimson envelope bearing a white depiction of a rising sun arrives late in the day, bearing all manner of post to point at its rush to arrive at Tylel's home so soon. A wax seal on the back of the envelope - also depicting a rising sun - shows that no tampering could have been done on this letter's short journey.

Tylel,

                If at all possible, I need you to expedite your travels. Yours and Ari's actions have blown up in my face twice over, now. Not only was your attempt to assault Asarel a poor reflection of my ability to keep my vassals in check, but now Ari has been arrested. I've done my best to speak to the Arbiter on both your AND her behalf, but her actions have forced me to explain her current state and behavior to Sir Prideaux. I'm sure Lord Triste will not be pleased, himself, when I go to him to try and clean up the mess you two have made.

I find him near Old Town on a back road where dirt splits the cobblestone. He has only an instant after recognizing me before I am on him. He is fast. Strong too. I am more.

He doesn't scream when I bend his hand till his knuckles touch his wrist. There's not even a gasp of pain when I kick his kneecap in. I break his body in a hundred ways but his eyes still flash defiance.

The alley hides us and I sit with him after. I know he pumps himself full of herbs and Troll's blood, I give him maybe five minutes before he can stand. He coughs blood and tries to pull something from beneath his battered breastplate.

I get it for him. Put the cigarette to his lips and strike the match. I let him have a drag, then I put it out on his forehead. His cuts are beginning to close. I tip my hat to him and leave. Let him wonder for awhile why this is happening.

I hit him the next day. And the next. And the next.

     The insistent vibrations of the device at her waist was an indicator that her alarm system had been triggered at her Gun Shop in Ogrimmar. The device gave off an irritable buzzing sound as it continued to inform her of yet another break in. The Mechanic seemed to pay it no mind... for the first three minutes. That's when the buzzing became more urgent, yelling at her in it's bzzt bzzt way. Ada was well aware that someone was breaking into her shop. For all she went through to set up the intricate security system for her own place of work, it was repetitively disarmed by none other than Asarel. That was in the old days anyway. He found it good sport, he'd relay to her with a smirk and a roll of a shoulder. Insufferable nuissance. She'd shoot him again if she ever saw the elf, but these days he appeared, destroyed, vanished. She smiled fondly at how many upgrade he had forced her to think through however... because with all his destruction there came the ability to rebuild and improve her creations. Engineering gave her mind something to race over, her hands to seek peace within the rods and gears laced with oil and grime.

Yet, here she was on a lovely afternoon... Smashing this device that fit in the palm of her hand, against the steps in the Bazaar in front of Kharris Dawndancer's estate.

(( Continued from Becoming: Redemption (Part 1) ))

The sun had already set over the gloomy, forested hillsides of the Tirisfal Glades; the light of the moon only highlighted the misty, greenish hue to the skies over the sickly lands below. The sleepy farmsteads and groves of brittle, skeletal pines stood silent- forsaken, in a manner congruent with the fallen kingdom's most recent denizens.

The Ranger-Lieutenant landed near the doorway to the winding stairs atop the zeppelin tower in a flourish of hunter-green riding cloak, tawny-coloured fur and the tinkling of metal clasps on several saddle bags. She reined in her green-armoured wind rider, softly clicking her tongue to soothe the lithe creature whose claws click-clacked along the wooden platform, at last coming to a stop.

"It's that time of the year again. That special occasion when the single folks profess their feelings for one another, and the lovers do what they do best. I mean when it comes to this place, you can see it everywhere. You can see it in the gifts presented, the looks that are shared, and the all-too-public displays of affection. You can even see it between co-workers when they want to express that forced and awkward relationship that reminds them so much of the work they want to get away from. It's also that special time of year that brings those goblins from the Crown Chemical Co. swarming in to sell their wares to anyone they can shake a stick at. Don't ask me about that Peddlefeet guy, by the way. I still can't figure him out. Okay, back to love. For those who are lucky, the love folks experience continues to grow over time. Or, even better, they might get to discover the miracle of life. 

The fire crackled in the hearth, the sound and the warmth filling the large room that was my study. Even the cool air that drifted in from the balcony doors was crisp and clean. A vibrant moon bathed the white marble on the balcony in its silver glow that competed with the firelight almost playfully. The shadows cast by the fire danced and flickered along the walls, illuminating the colors that I'd chosen to make this room inviting. 

Tonight, it was anything but.

Favorite fairy tales!

Almost halfway done!

For the 30 Day Drawing Challenge Here.

POST 'EM.

Why don't you come to your senses?

You been out ridin' fences, for so long now...

A knight errant-turned-secretary, made a noble.

 Every single day she questioned her own ability, and qualifications for this position.

Maybe, just maybe...she should abdicate. Disappear.

Remove herself completely, and utterly.

((Here's the third part, feel free to leave comments, and look at the other 2 parts))

As I comforted the forsaken whom I will now call Diosis, he looked up at my muzzled face and smiled, actually looking a living being, his glowing eyes some how showing off life.

I recall of people saying that worgen have a 6th sense, that they can sense falsity in someone or something. Nonetheless, I'm quite convinced that he truly is sincere.

He finally broke the silence. "I perfer to be a worgen than a forsaken any day. I have my own purpose in this world, forsaken or not, and coming back for a second time will let me redeem myself, and having your own free will helps."

I was amazed at his perspective of undeath in a case like this; and I was unable to hide a smile as he was speaking about it. Diosis saw my smile and found his self smiling back.

"A CHILD TAMAKI" Alister's words echoed in his head as he walked through the darkness of Silvermoon city. The night cold with a light breeze a few leaves rolled across the path he had taken.

His thoughts going back to the conversation "Come follow me Alister I need a favour"

The dark Leather clad Rogue followed Tamakï out of sight of Prying eyes and ears , their confirmation of being locked in with Ava and her group had saddened him not being the only fool to fall to her whim. "I need you to sever my hand Alister ... remove the symbols from my being"

The rogue stepped away slightly disgusted and shocked at the revelation "You would no longer be able to hunt your life would be over, what could push you to such an extent"

As Echo mentioned, it's actually day 13 today: Comic!

The 30 day art challenge

We're still a day behind! Ack!  This is actually a topic for Saturday, but we can catch up!  I know it!

Or... just skip a few, or post whichever ones you want!

For this one, some recent accomplishment!

FOR THE 30-DAY ART CHALLENGE.

    My name is Aranion.

    I'm from Suncrown.

    As a boy I played a game with friends.

    We called it Hero.

For being a ruthless and brutal race, Ogres were once again proving to be both shaped and controlled by a middle aged dwarven housewife, much to her annoyance.  Honestly, dealing with Ogres reminded her of taking care of her child, the mannerisms and reactions being fairly predictable with both.  The trick was breaking into their rather chaotic pecking order system.  Darlain had edged her way there in a rather unlikely manner, not through strength or cunning or backbreaking labor, but through fashion.

Working in showbiz is a tough gig. Sometimes your boss decides she'd rather be a flower and decamps for Darnassus, and sometimes an imposter comes along masquerading as your former employer and fires you. These things happen. And when they do, a self-sufficient woman such as I really has no choice but to return to her previous line of work. For an unfortunate few this means hitting the streets when the sun goes down and half of Silvermoon (if what one reads is true) follows suit. For most of us, however, this means returning to the far less disreputable world of murder-for-hire. "By the Light!," you exclaim, "you don't mean you. . . !," to which I respond, quite matter-of-factly as not to offend your delicate moral sensibilities, that death in this city is a contractual affair, a legal matter carried out with the utmost professionalism. What they say about looks that kill is absolutely true, so it really should not surprise you that, the pictures being all about image, a lot of people employed in the industry meet what is euphemistically referred to as an untimely end. Again, these things happen.

Ack, this is actually for yesterday!

I got bogged down in work followed by raid night so didn't get it done, but hopefully will get to it today!

For the 30-Day Drawing Challenge!

((Here's the second part. Leave comments, because I'm wondering how my story is going,))

“Now,” the forsaken said, “You have the option to run from me since yes, I am a rotten corpse, or kill me.” He turned around and looked away from me. He actually looks like he’s sobbing.

So my idea I've been playing with for months--if not nearly a year by now--is a sort of book club. Where I live, they're pretty common (or at least, as an English grad student working in a bookstore, they seem common). They make for a good reason for people to come together and socialize, with a bit more of a fallback focus than tavern smalltalk.

Some of the ideas I've had for it so far: