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Post by Emizael on Dec 31, 2005 4:41:58 GMT -5
31st day of December-- Ironforge
So, there I am sitting on the steps of the auction house, the crowds pressing around me and the harkers yelling thier wares, and I'm thinking...
"I am a proud and valiant sixty season hunter with a fancy coat and a nice hat, and the polish on my shoes is gleaming!"
The next step from here, having "done it all" from a blasse' point of view, as it were, is now to find some quiet time, you know, to rest, relax, enjoy some of the money I've made, and some of the fame I have earned as a Defender.
I know, I know, even now, Lords Vangelis and Kalmorith are twisting in thier bedsheets, gripped in angst that I may do something, unpleasant..but! I think to myself, watching some of the fine ladies strolling by, what is life really worth, if you can't take a nice girl out to a dinner or a show, or, suprise her with flowers, or ..I dunno, a pet in a box, that sort of thing...
This has me thinking..
I mean, its not morally apprehensive to look for suitable companionship , and I don't care to be one of those gruff hunter types that only has some bear or cat or ..Goddess help them a lizard to curl up to at night.
Now, I may not be all suave and...debonair, like some of the other Defenders, I mean, I hear talk in the taverns all the time from the tavern-girls about "that dreamy Lando.." and of course, there's Doc, a lady killer if ever was...and as far as a social life goes, well, I have to say...I don't have one!
So, I guess, my mission is..my goal, is..to get a social life? Hmm. This may be hard. I hear that women in general like men who can dance. This may or may not be a good thing. I can't dance.
Now, Montalban, he says, he knows this dance...its called the Forbidden Dance. I like the sound of that. He says it makes the women "swoon." I dunno what that means, exactly, it could be something that only human women experience.
Oh wait...this could get confusing...
Must narrow it down a bit. I mean...Montalban, he may know women. Human women. Would a human date an elf? Or...what about a gnome, or a dwarf? I mean, Arlon is a dwarf, and he married my sister, but..hmm. This is going to take a lot of thought.
Perhaps I should start with the dancing.
I think I have everything else, I think I do anyway..my face is not..unappealing, and..I have a variety of nice clothes, mostly tailored by Merlinne...
I wonder if Merlinne dances....?
Best not to dwell on some things, I think.
I wonder if Larae dances!
This ...could definatley be a problem. Or, I could be getting into a lot of trouble. Hmmph. First things first. I must seek out Montalban and learn this Dancing! I will have to go from there.
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Post by Kalmorith on Dec 31, 2005 17:41:59 GMT -5
*chuckles, with a slight cringe* Ah, Emizael, there is much more to do. Much more. The 60th Season is only a single point at which only a few things change.
I trust you are not to become a bar-bug who will simply alternate between the Auction House and the Stonefire Tavern? Heh...no, I think you will not.
*glances down the valley toward Scholomance, and then remembers Alterac Valley*
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Post by Windfoot on Dec 31, 2005 19:09:51 GMT -5
((lol))
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Post by Emizael on Jan 2, 2006 18:17:56 GMT -5
(( brothers and sisters, do I have plans. Being level 60 just means I can get in that much more interesting trouble and neater places. I should truly think that I should be ambitious, and go after all the nicest of trinkets and powerful artifact items and such, and strive for the heights of temporal power, but...there's just not enough of a good story there. I have lots of good story ideas, but, entirely too many of those are..single aspected, and of course, deal entirely with my selfish self, hehehehe...but then again...with as wonderful a group of RP'rs as I find myself with....it will not be long before I find...well, I was going to say victims of an RP sense, but, you guys are willing, so that don't apply...heheh...more fun stuff for all of us! )) ....Auction House? Who goes there, anymore? heheh.
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Post by Celera on Jan 3, 2006 0:40:00 GMT -5
((Of course Larae dances. Surely you remember her being at the party for Merlinne's promotion. How much did you have to drink?
It's kinda hard to dance in plate, though, even the kind that doesn't provide the most complete coverage.
Swooning, of course, completely out of the question.))
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Post by Emizael on Jan 10, 2006 6:19:48 GMT -5
5th day January--Gnomeregan
I must be fast as I scribe this down...there isn't a great deal of time here...a brief explanation...
Everyone knows that Gnome-land was taken over by hideous Troggs, and that some kind of great disaster occured wherein the remaining Gnome folk were driven mad, with contagious diseases, and so forth, but I have discovered something else too!
Being the quintessential adventurer, I have led several expeditions into the deep city, often to help young gnomes find lost loved ones, or relics and items of power left behind by their ancestors...I might say that I have become somewhat of an expert on the topic of Gnome-land, and its not unlikely at any time, for me to go and explore there when the mood strikes, but, today, I led the young Lady Larae into the dark, and was REWARDED for my efforts.
The scene was thus...
After the intial foray, and much combat, as there were many troggs, We finally stumbled into the Clean Zone, and there, as I showed Larae the many wonders of the Cleanzomatic 5300 ...or..whatever those strange, present giving machines are called, the most amazing thing I have ever seen...the most wonderous...it was as if ...ANGELS descended from the heavens and smote me on the brow with light! Glorious, I tells you, GLORIOUS!
Uh oh..gotta go...Gnomereagan calls us deeper, and we must away.
Also...need to find more presents...so I can get Larae to clap again...
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Larae
New Arrival
Posts: 18
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Post by Larae on Jan 10, 2006 14:07:59 GMT -5
I missed the angels and the glorious light and the smiting. Probably because I was so busy with the presents! Who ever heard of a machine that would give you presents! With ribbons even! I can't imagine why my sister doesn't like Gnomeregan -- maybe she doesn't know about this!
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Post by Montalban on Jan 10, 2006 19:23:00 GMT -5
*Montalban makes a mental note to add Emizael to his list of dance students, and is intrigued, as this will be his first male student. He does not expect these lessons to end in the usual fashion*
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Post by Emizael on Jan 12, 2006 22:22:48 GMT -5
7th day of January-- Stormwind, SI-7 halls.
So, the old addage proves true, that, sometimes, stealth is greater then strength, and Intelligence, above all, is the greatest of powers. So, I find myself talking to the masters of stealth and subtlety, the Intelligence of Stormwind, the rogues of SI-7.
I'd done some work for them before, what with my efforts against the Defias, and the search for the rumors of Stormwinds' King, so I was in passing familiarity with many of the faces of that office. It was there I went, to learn a bit of new training, to add to my already considerable skills.
I mean, not to flaunt my talent, but, I can stalk with the mightiest Frostsaber, can be nigh invisible when I choose, and my skill with bow, gun, staff, claw, sword, axe, and spear is all but unmatched amongst my equals, and so, what could they really teach me? I soon found out, I had a lot to learn.
Its not all about fighting. Its about using all the skills you have at your discretion to perform an objective. The truth is...that killing an enemy is not always the right answer. Sometimes, just knowing what the enemy is up to is more valuable then stalking him.
The first lessons, were all about books. Hundreds of them, to be sure, that I barely could make sense of, books of tactics, and economics, and politics. I begin to see why the humans are as organized as they are, and why they act as they do...So much information to cram into such a short life..
All life, is short anymore. Information, it seems, is the best weapon of all.
So, I take some time out of my busy schedule, and learn things, like, how to be "really" quiet. To stay still, and motionless. For hours, if neccessary. I learn to creep and crawl, and remain undetected by all manner of creatures. I learn how to fight all over again, my weapons the small dirks, and light blade of the alleyman.
I slip into the seedy underbelly of the cities of Stormwind, and mix with the locals, learning the chant of the smuggler, and slaver. To Ironforge, in the deep caves, to learn of the Dark Iron clan. To my own home in Darnassus, to find poison-mongers...
I learn, and am amazed. I learn that the Defias are as strong as ever, and that the Cults of Twilight, and other nefarious organizations, are seeded everywhere!
I learn, and I smile.
Because I know, now.
Because, I can stop it.
Information is a beautiful weapon.
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Post by Emizael on Jan 24, 2006 15:43:18 GMT -5
23rd day January--Ravenholdt Estates, Hillsbrad Region
Right. So, unbeknownst (that's a big word for me) to me, there happens to be a cult of assassins that works for the Alliance. No, Really.
The men and women of the Ravenholdt clan are skilled killers, stealers-in, sudden violence doers, and stealthy knife men.
Also, they play cards. I lost a lot of money, to some guy called "The Wolf", who..when I got him drunk later, mumbled something about a very large debt he owes to someone else...
After beating on him a bit, I find out its Doc Caspin. Interesting.
Chant says its a small world, after all, and as I find myself exploring new things, I find that the Good Doctor, is actually quite the rascal! I may have to invite him to a game...
So, I've actually taken up painting. Its a hobby, to be sure, but in a book I read, I heard how some of the most famous swordsmen in the known 'Verse were accomplished painters, artists, really.
You sit there, in front of the canvas, and the brush or knife is like this extension, not only of the hand, but the soul, and mind and eye, all working in harmony. The colours are ..shapes and shadows, figments that you take out of ..some other place, and if you have some skill, and a bit of talent..you can create something. It may be a still-life, or..a landscape, a scene you see. or something from memory..
You step back from that canvas, and, if its done, its done. You leave an impression there, of yourself. An, image, a snapshot, a signature of who you are...how you interact with the 'Verse around you. Its Art, or its not, but... that relies entirely on the beholder, or, so the berk that's training me says.
I've taken to looking for works of art done by some of the more famous Blademasters of our world. Sense of humour, some of them have. Really good stuff. But, if you can see the Art, you get insight. Like, for example..
Orc Blademaster. Lorgen Kell. Fabulous fighter. Hasn't lost a single arena match in five years. Booty Bay champion dock fighter. Very honorable, for an Orc. Also, painter. Interesting, really. Does these..charactures, of famous people. Like, did a painting of Warchief Thrull, on a pile of flowers and skins, surrounded by pretty elf ladies, all a glimmer. I take this to mean that he feels the Warchief has gone soft. I suppose this is wildy funny to orcs. But, his style, loose, suggestive. Draws the eyes to focal points on the canvas. Brush-marks like punctuations, shows the way he holds his weapons. I can tell, unlike many orc, Kell favours a long blade. Two handed. And, the way he paints the eyes, lost, dreamy, highlighted and glinting. Tells me that he favours high over hand attacks. Real head taker, this orc. The looser, broader strokes to the frames of his subjects, tells that he pays more attention to the face, rather then the body. He uses peripheral vision, mostly, keeps locked eye to eye, while he fights. Low crouch, looking up, feeding spirit to spirit, and watching the eyes for the moment of pain, when he can take the victory, take the head of his opponent. Powerful imagery. Powerful Art. Evocative, so the chant says.
I'm going to kill him, tomorrow.
He's a threat, says my contacts. Leads armies to victory, gives hope to Horde, and could someday challenge the great Warchief Thrull, and take control of the Horde for himself. This, the Alliance does NOT want.
Makes me sad, that a person like him has to die. He's a hero to his people. A threat to mine.
I wish I could go back to the happier days, when the killing was just... me versus the Evil, me backed by the righteous spirits of the wild, but..here I am..a pile of plants and dusts and powders on my desk, the correct application of which causes a poison so vile that should I even be found attempting to make it, the Druids of the Enclave would hang me from the branches of Teldrassil.
The job is the job, though, and once you take the money...you gotta do the thing. So the berk that's training me says.
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Post by merlinne on Jan 24, 2006 16:20:09 GMT -5
((Excellent writing on this piece especially Emizael! I look forward to reading more!))
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Post by Windfoot on Jan 24, 2006 20:15:48 GMT -5
((well done, Emi. Keep it coming!))
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Post by Emizael on Jan 26, 2006 3:24:51 GMT -5
25th day, January---The Barrens
Set up camp, far off the road. We've been here before, we have. Lots of times. Barrens, old friend, really.
Raptors. Don't like them, really. Curious, relentless, unforgiving beasts, and they smell bad. Horrid. That's the chant, on Raptors.
Lions, them I respect. Proud. Hunters. Mark thier territory, and visciously defend it...even from other great cats.
Sand, lots of it. Sky...Sky so bright it hurts to look at it. Beautiful countryside, if you can live there.
Kodo. Amazing creatures. Followed a pack for three days, because they move with a purpose. They find water, and green growth to eat. Some of them, very mean, if you get too close.
So, here I am again, running off into the lands of the Horde, doing things, things I said I wouldn't do again.
Fighting for the Alliance. Chant says, the Alliance is losing. Chanters, they say lots. Tavernspeak says the Alliance is crumbling. New threats on the Horizon, sounds of doom coming from far off Silithus. Gates unopened for thousands of years, and armies ready to march off into them.
Meanwhile, in the trenches, Alterac Valley...the guns there, never silent. The sun does not set, on the war there. Warsong Gulch. Blood still wet on cool grass, and bones still shiny underneath emerald trees. Arathi Basin. Territories ...taken and given and retaken.
I wonder where they get all these fighters..where do they get all the soldiers?
Took the job, Lorgen Kell. Studied him. Learned about him. Used my contacts amongst the goblins again, just like I did to find Wesjin. Found out Kell has an expidition, based out of Orc town, named Crossroads.
Paid a berk ten crowns to shadow Kell. Gobbies will do that. Always costly.
Paid another berk twenty crowns, in the shadows of the Cathedral of Light in Stormwind, for the substance coating my knife.
I wait, and I breathe. I imagine painting the scene before me..the hues of red and green and gold and browns, shading that rock just so, highlighting that branch in just the right proportion.
I go over my information again. This morning. This beautiful morning...just as dawn breaks, Kell and his friends are going to head out to some place the gobbies call Razorfen. Chant says lots of Pig Men there. Chant says lots.
Need to ambush Kell long before he reaches them.
Intell says, Kell may be going there to make a deal. He has money, and the ear of a King. He brings the Razorbacks to the table, could mean a whole new fresh onslaught of Horde troops.
I took the job.
25th day, January--The Barrens
Later. Nightfall. Cool wind over the plains. The air teases my long hair like a lover's caress. I am quiet, and still, my quarry not fifteen feet away. I am calm, steady, and patient.
This is no battle, really.
The poison, deadly. A scratch, and your widow misses you. A full blade length, you get, maybe two steps before your heart gives out. No cure for this one, even priests can't help. Makes it pretty illegal, pretty scarce.
In Darnassus, they will hang you for even having it. In Ironforge, they cut off a hand. In Stormwind, they probably promote you.
This is no battle. No honor. Kell gets closer. He says something to his travelling buddy, probably a joke. Both of them, laughing. Starlight in thier eyes.
Crouched, waiting, shadows gathered about me...closer, closer.
Kell looks right at me, doesn't see me. Doesn't see anything anymore, doesn't even get to yell out. My knife, takes him in the throat, just below the jaw. Upward twist, the knife sinks home, that's it. Over.
I dance away, twisting into the underbrush, yelling and screaming all about me as the rest of Kell's party sees him crumble. Cagey, wary, and utterly furious.
About a hundred feet away, I exhale. Then I run.
Long and hard, faster then ever, wishing the spirit of the Cheetah would fill me and carry me home, or that my mount was not at home, in the Defenders' Stables..
I realize that the Orc are still tracking me. Some skilled hunters, they have.
I'm ready for this though, I have a plan. I head deep into the heart of the barrens, running for Dreadmist Peak.
Chant says the Burning Blade has an outpost there. I've been. Not impressed, really.
By the time I get there, the gods show favor on me..its raining like Elune herself weeps for me. Visibility..very low. I climb the mount with Orc right below me.
They haven't spotted me, they haven't..but ..somehow, they have tracked me. Easy enough though, they don't realize how far ahead of them I am. They don't know how old the trail is..
I slip into the tent of one of the Burning Blade. Faith is with me...I hear the rumbles of the Orc within, dreaming its dreams of conquest.
My knife, the one that ended Kell, still in my hand, I approach the sleeping figure, and drop the knife right near the little straw pallet. Silent as dust, me.
With that done, its a simple matter really. Hold the stone keyed to the Gold Lion Inn, say the magic words, and let the light carry me all the way home.
Magick of the stone, might be limited, but..was probably the best thing ever invented.
Of course, the Shaman that was with Kell, tracked the knife. The weapon that killed thier friend and leader, found in the tent of a cultist, known to be poisoners, known enemies of Kell himself....
Misdirection, to be sure, but, we can't have the Horde thinking that the Alliance had anything to do with it.
I sit at my usual spot near the hearth, glad to be back in Goldshire. Glad to be back amongst smiling faces and pretty girls, happy folk, simple folk.
I look at the painting hanging over the bar, and I wonder, I wonder if anyone else here knows that an Orc named Lorgen Kell painted that scene, and I wonder, if in his last moments, he was happy.
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Post by Celera on Jan 27, 2006 1:47:28 GMT -5
((Emi, I just read this again, and it's ... really good. Excellent pacing, and the juxtaposition of the artist and the assassination is just stunning. Wow.))
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Post by merlinne on Jan 27, 2006 9:23:02 GMT -5
((I have to say, I was rather sad reading this one. One believes they are on the right side because they fight for the Alliance, but the other believes they are right as well and the tactics employed to eliminate the one leaves a person wondering are they really so different? A wonderful piece. Thank you.))
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