Héra

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It's ironic, it would seem, that a device such as this has become so helpful to me, another little bauble Ixidos had been coming up with.  Such a fine researcher, that boy, if only he had the mind to lead...but I digress.  I record this speech from my sanctum, warded away from the world and its thousands of other recording devices called eyes, ears, and minds.  For so long, I have lived in the public gaze, always swift to recognize my face to the world first.

I have served our people for thousands of years.  I am a very, very old elf, and I know my time is finite.  These are...difficult thoughts, to be sure. 

(( Just so people who don't notice the tag know, this post has sexy stuff and illegal things of a vigilante nature. So... ENJOY. :D ))

I have marched through these sands since Her hourglass began to tremble. This is no wasteland, but a perfected encephalon, mighty and vast. Everything works as it should; every grain of time, every sun-bleached carcass that constitutes as a thought forgotten. This land of the South is not where emotion or ideas go to perish, but a place where they are made to change and be everlasting in Her glimmering world. This is reality; truth.

The Baroness had never been a static creature, nor a consummate being. She had always been there, however, letting her bare feet be caressed by sands so scorching hot that other shades or Guardians might have melted upon trespassing. Her form shifts and contorts at a near-constant. Her hair is never as long or as curly as it was the moment prior, or turning around to pour ringlets over her statuesque figure, but so often bound in desert wraps and shrouds of thin linen.

Mercenaries Wanted for Expedition to wild Zul'Aman!

 Overview:
In an effort to aid his student in a research project regarding the Troll race, notable scholar Jakobus Nachtengaal is leading an expedition into the lands of Zul'Aman!

What we need:
- Mercenaries with unquestionable loyalty and skills.
- Mages capable of detecting and disarming magical traps.
- Servants to help carry the spoils.

What you will earn:
- In return for obedience and loyalty, you will receive a fair share of the spoils from the rich halls as determined by Nachtengaal himself.

Overview
As per the Law of Silvermoon, I stand under oath and civil obligation to report to the authorities when, in my practice, I encounter matters of dire importance or gravitas.As per that law, I must unfortunately file this report about an encounter I have recently had with Rhosyn.

 The events
Myself and my student Aizawa D'Aranath were engaged in a lesson in my office, when we heard a commotion coming from downstairs. When we moved the investigate, we noticed a horse (in the barding of a “Charger”) standing behind the bar of the Wayfarer Inn, mounted by the female healer Rhosyn. There was no response to her name, and she appeared at first glance to be in a catatonic state. At this moment, lady Sijmen Beauregarde arrived, and I requested her to dismount Rhosyn and carry her to my office for further investigation.

Mercenaries Wanted for Expedition to the Blackwing Lair

 Overview:
After the recent discovery of an egg in the halls of Karazhan, preliminary research by Denley Sunshade has indicated that a suitable next venue of research would be this Lair.

What we need:
- Mercenaries with unquestionable loyalty and skills.
- Mages capable of detecting and disarming magical traps.
- Servants to help carry the spoils.

What you will earn:
- In return for obedience and loyalty, you will receive a fair share of the spoils as determined by Nachtengaal himself.

Mercenaries Wanted for Expedition to Legendary Karazhan!

 Overview:
In an effort to further our understanding of the phenomenon of “Death Knights”, notable scholar Jakobus Nachtengaal and his students are organizing an expedition to the legendary halls of Karazhan, rumoured to be virtually undead-infested.

What we need:
- Mercenaries with unquestionable loyalty and skills.
- Mages capable of detecting and disarming magical traps.
- Servants to help carry the spoils.

What you will earn:
- In return for obedience and loyalty, you will receive a fair share of the spoils from the rich halls as determined by Nachtengaal himself.

I remember how she was this perfect, happy child. It was I who was so flawed in her shadow.

Her feet were so noisy, that sunny afternoon. Pitter pat. Patter patter. Tee hee.

Barely older than a tot, and more beautiful then than she has ever been, she ran through our mother's garden completely carefree. Father was away on business, even so shortly after the twins had died. To be truthful, only Mother felt the sorrow of their deaths. So did tiny Sitta, but she cried only because Mother cried.

I didn't cry for either of my brothers. Bael and Cane were a disaster from the start. Their father was, too.

She had waited weeks for this moment. The arcane energy that smoldered from each and every excited body was enough to weaken the will of the mind, and inebriate the senses with a thick haze of elation. They had all been waiting for this; this hour to prove that they were the one to progress to the next tier of magic.

Héra stood within the ring of students, each just as focused on success as the one next to them. An ache of anxiety beat in her chest, feeding tiny naysaying whispers to her brain. Yours won't be as good as theirs. All that effort for nothing. Useless. She breathed in slowly, filling her lungs with the thick sweetness of the air.

Settle your mind, and focus on the end result. Envision your success.

((This post may be NSFW due to the mention of some parts of the female anatomy. Additionally, fair warning that this post may cause mild offense in some. Read at your own discretion.))

Polished platinum smiled back at Héra as she quietly admired and joyed in the return of her bountiful chestnut curls, brushing the ends of a few ringlets with her silver-handle comb. The short-lived nature of her playful Silvermoon red hair left not a trace on her head, thanks to the perfected skill of the Dalaran stylist.

The student housing situation had not yet been resolved from the day before, leaving the perky adolescent to the luxuries of the Ravnok Manor. A fouled safety rune was no doubt the case.  Within the comfort of her own room, Héra enjoyed her free evening how she liked: barely dressed, barefoot, and in the glow of her Level 70 Elite Tauren Chieftain posters.