Zaas(mentioned)

 It was early in the morning when he'd shown up in her quarters. A glance at the open pocket watch on her  bed tray told her it was four in the morning, something was wrong. Cerwis put the stopper in her ink pot and set the tray on the floor giving Reggie space to join her on her bed. 

 Five steps, turn, take a drag. Five more steps, turn, exhale smoke. Repeat step one, follow with step two.

“There a reason you pick the coldest damn places to talk?”

“More privacy out here.  Besides, I’m comfortable,” the cloaked figure dropped a cigarette and ground it out with a toe.

"Gentlemen," the goblin Qizzik says. His brow furrowed as he looks up from his ledgers, and he says to his guards, "No, make that, 'you bozos.' What have I told you bozos about letting customers in here ARMED!?"

Smirking at the desperate note in the goblin banker's voice, Amara "Flamefist" Niall casually flicks one of the seven blades on his very large axe with an armored finger. As the metallic note rings in the air, one of the gadgetzan bruisers shrugs and says to his boss, "Hey, you didn't spring for the bruisers' guild insurance level that covers extreme bodily dismemberment. As long as he doesn't interfere with Cartel business, Mr. Niall and his extremely powerful weapon can go wherever they like."

"Mr. Lefty and Mr. Bruno simply thought they'd escort me in, since I wouldn't give up my arms," Amara chimes in helpfully, a cruelly satisfied note in his voice.

She slide down the gryphon’s back, cringing as pain rippled in her leg.  The Griffin Master reached for her arm, thinking to help steady her, instead another wave of pain bloomed in her arm.  She smiled at him through it all before moving out of the way of the next griffin.  Pittch was by her side the next instant helping her on his back, his steps going towards the Keep.

She had been in the Keep, reports in hand hours earlier, when a guard had run in a letter in his hands about a Pox in Redridge and the Dragoons presence had been requested for assistance.  She stared at the human a bit confused for a moment, before reaching for quiver and herb bags.  She thought that priests would be better for dealing with a Pox, but if a shire needed help, she was going to go.  A quick message over the guildstone about the situation, only aroused some lively cussing from the commander.

Larosa carefully eyed the door in front of her. In her hand was the key to open it, but instead of rushing through it like anyone, she took her time trying to find that tell tale sign of the arcane.  Once satisfied the door wouldn’t explode she inserted the key and turned the knob, letting the door creak open slowly.  She stood on the threshold, taking in the neat stacks of paper, the neatly made bed, and the general tidiness of the room.

Pittch took the first step in, sniffing everything, trying to sort out the smells he was sensing.  Larosa followed heading for a desk looking at the writing, trying to make sense of the jumbled letters and complex diagrams.  An hour later, the two had gone through the room,  and were trying to put everything back into it place, when Pittch began whining at a small spot on the wood floor. 

Written in Darnassian on handmade paper.

I’ve done my first Patrols in the city, as a Silver Dragoon!  On my first patrol night, there were a few petty crimes.  Purse snatching, breakings, but nothing to serious and I feel sorry for the person who has to read my reports.  My writing skill are terrible in common but I have been practicing.  I have made some friends. Another sister, in this city of stone.  I thought she was playing a game of Hunt with me. turns out I was wrong.  In the end, we had tea and it was a joy to speak in our tongue and to fully understood for a while. 

We never did get to play hunt. I had to ask if it was alright to play the game, and frustratingly, Miss Zaas, had no clue what I meant.  She thought it was a flirting game, either that or I meant to hunt and kill my new friend.  We had a laugh for a moment over the misconceptions of humans,before deciding to go to the Park for a drink.

Written in Darnassian on handmade paper.

I remember sweat running down the back of my neck as I stepped into the office of Commander Harrigan.  I was expecting the Alpha, oozing with confidence and not afraid to snarl or growl at me for my shortcomings.  An alpha that firmly had his pack inline and would probably turn me out on my ass if he’d gotten ahold of the records from the Tree.

Instead of the snarling or growling, I still got an alpha . . . but he was understanding and had no problem with my questions.  He was relaxed, though the smell of something bitter and hopsy hung in the air around him.  As he spoke, the years of experience mingled with his words and I realized then that I was just a cub compared to him and he already knew it.