Updated Material - Author's Notes

I've been working on the Here's Looking at you, Kid page, and it's coming along nicely. There are still several characters that are missing or incomplete, and I will continue to update accordingly.

A Day in the Life of a Gnome has been completed. Though I will admit I'm not entirely satisfied with it as it feels short and when I picked it back up I couldn't even recall where I first intended to go. So instead of scrapping it and rewriting everything, I just finished where I think things were headed.

I'm currently looking for some new inspiration.

Wake Unto Me

Ghost felt her now as he had when they first put the rings on. A link to the lives they lived a thousand years ago, a link to each other through some bond kept alive in the metal and in the recesses of their souls. He knew she was sleeping, dreaming even, and every emotion she felt in that slumber would fill him as if it were his own. They were pleasant tonight, filling him with warmth and lifting his spirits. Ghost allowed a small smile as he finished laying a stone into his leather bracer, not certain if he was smiling because of the good fortune the night held or if it was the wash of positive emotion that flowed into him from his sleeping companion. ‘Either way,’ Ghost thought to himself, ‘I could get used to this.’

Standing and stretching, Ghost glanced at the night sky. It wasn’t terribly late yet, plenty of time to wander around the castle walls or the nearby forest. He felt like hunting. Free time had been limited lately, and a good hunt was long overdue… then the thought occurred to him, was it really his desire to hunt or perhaps Crimson’s dream compelling him? They hadn’t tested all the possibilities of their new connection yet, perhaps not only feelings could be shared but thoughts as well. It would also explain the joy she was feeling while dreaming, hunting was something she enjoyed as much as he did. Even though they both were from very different walks of life, it had been something bred into them, a way of life so natural to them both. Where ever the thought came from, it wasn’t going to happen. This land had been dead a long time, and anything living or dead was recently driven out by their presence.

Introducing Ghost; An Exalted Background

If there were ever an old soul in a young man it would be Ghost. At only sixteen he had learned things about life that few beings experience in their whole span. He had accomplished tasks most spend generations working on and had mastered skills mere mortals could only dream about. And although pride would swell within him knowing these things, he also knew it was just a prelude to what lay ahead. His heart would hang heavy knowing what had come before and what would come to pass before he could truly be satisfied with his actions and accomplishments in life, some of which he may never reach and most of which were even frightening for him to consider. And though fear constantly played on his mind at the path he must take, he knew now who he was and whom he was meant to be. Even at sixteen he was destined to be greater than any he had ever met and accepted this with little regret and much desire to fulfill the role laid out for him. He was a boy just turned man. A child born to corruption grown into a tool for justice. A son. A thief taker. A brother. An Exalted.

Frozen Throne

Parody of "Tootsie Roll" by 69 Boyz. Written for World of Warcraft Arthas encounter in Wrath of the Lich King.

The Anub fight? Uh-uh that's gone!
Let me see that Frozen Throne!
Yeah, 2010 MoK squad backed up by Tirion Fordring and Ashbringer.
One time.
Flasked and ready, Fordring go, let me see that Frozen Throne!

Frozen Throne! (8x)
To the ledge, to the ledge!
Group up tight, group up tight!
To the tank, to the tank!
Now get back, now get back!
Spread! (8x)
To the ledge, to the ledge!
Group up tight, group up tight!
To the tank, to the tank!
Now get back, now get back!
Deeps, baby, deeps! (4x)

We Need a Hero(ism)

Parody of "Holding Out For a Hero" by Bonny Tyler. Written for World of Warcraft Anub'arak encounter in Wrath of the Lich King. 

Where have all the attempts gone,

And where are all the loots?

Where’s the epic DPS

With run speed on their boots?

Isn’t there a heal queued to save me in phase three?

Raiding nights I kite and I burn and dream of what could be.

We need a hero!

We’re holding out for a hero at the end of the fight.

We’ve gotta be geared,

And we’ve gotta be fast,

And we’ve gotta be bunched up tight.

We need a hero!

We’re holding out for a hero to do this right.

We’ve gotta be buffed,

And it’s gotta be soon,

And we’re gonna be larger than life.

Larger than life.

Untitled

Plans to finish in the distant future. I was tired of writing about love and wanted to do something darker.

The storm clouds thundered as she walked to her car. It hadn’t started raining yet but it was inevitable. Eric smiled to himself as he watched her. Tonight was the perfect night, not just because his urges had become insatiable lately, but the rain would wash away evidence of his plans. Cleansing him of guilt as it had in the past on those nights when he had to take what was his. Nights that were becoming harder to control and more frequent.

His groin reacted as he recalled the last time he had bore witness to the most private of times. Her shirt being pulled above her head, skin glowing in the softly lit room with only a bedside light casting shadows over every curve of her being. And then the bra was unhooked, falling to the floor, exposing her sun kissed breasts. He clenched his jaw in a growl, images got him going, but it wasn’t enough anymore, he wanted to see it again. Her dark nipples puckering from the fresh air as if the brassiere had smothered them all day, her looking over herself before slipping into the tub already filled with warm water, letting it envelope her. He needed to see it again.

Restless; Yllithia

Mutig’s hands worked systematically over the leather, readjusting straps to oil what he had seen as being neglected. His ribs still hurt from where the hammer had lain into him from the fight only days before up in the hills of Ironforge. But he worked diligently with the thoughts of whom the outfit would be protecting, not just the woman he loved, but his child as well. If she wasn’t going to take precautions, by the Light, he was going to make sure nothing would become faulty while she carried what was his.

A creak from the door brought his eyes from his work to see Yllithia stopped mid-stride, the sunlight behind her shadowing the plate she currently wore but her face clearly seen, eyes wide quickly fading to a soft smile. He had heard her coming, she wasn’t so quiet with all that metal strapped onto her, granted softer footsteps than other warriors, but one can’t be too soft when wearing heavy metals like the ones her suit was crafted from.

Into the Deep; Yllithia

No future plans to finish.

Ylli stood outside the swirling portal that would throw her into the Naga stronghold, holding her breath. A few steps away and she would be thrust into constant battle against wave upon wave of scaled serpents, water breathing beings that were once what she was. An Elf at heart, but long ago they had changed, become dark and corrupted, taken into them a different life and become what they are now. A monster to be stopped. One that wished to further destroy the already crumbling Draenor, to wipe out all that stood against them, no matter what walk of life they came from. No matter what bloodline. The lady Vashj herself was deep in those dank caverns, once a hand-maiden to the queen of the Elves, now barely recognizable.

Missing Pieces

Tenderness in his touch,

those hands of death that work so well.

His eyes they shine with love and pride,

but do they know the darkness of his own hell?

She smiles back accepting the choices in her life,

Safety built within those walls.

A simple phrase will strengthen them,

Atop their tower that threatens to fall.

A Day in the Life of a Gnome

Nibbit reached her small hand up to the auburn haired woman not saying a word, gently humming to herself. She didn’t have to, every day the same procedure went on, sometimes several times a day, and Bethany Jaxon always despised when the small Gnome would come by. It meant a large exchange of coin, more paper work, more playing the in-between of the bartering game known as the Auction house. Especially from Nibbit.

Jaxon handed Nibbit the stacks of papers newly printed this morning after all the sellers had deposited their wares, sighing to herself. Nibbit always came to her. Two others in the same building, two other Auction Houses located over the world, and out of all 9 individuals, it was always Jaxon that had to keep the smile while dealing with Nibbit. It was always her.

The End of Lithriel; Yllithia

 No future plans to finish.

“Listen to me, Yllithia.” Lithriel’s voice was low as he quickly surveyed the darkness around the two.

Yllithia opened her eyes, seeing her father crouched over her. She almost hadn’t heard him, his voice pulling her out of a dream. Her forehead bunched trying to recall the dream, it was of her mother, she remembered that much, what had her mother been saying right before she heard the voice. ‘Listen to me. You need to open your eyes.’ Was it her father’s voice she had heard then? Her eyes were open now, looking at Lithriel’s solemn face, made ever darker by the cloudy night sky.

Of Dreams and Nightmares; Yllithia

A whimper was what woke him. No, it wasn’t the whimper it was the movement. Mutig was used to sleeping in the field where noises were common. But when he heard the sound of movement close by it normally meant a scout had wandered upon him or his party, being the first to wake and ready for anything that could come his way. But this time the movement echoed in his dreams. In his half awake state he recognized the smells and comforts he was blessed with on this night. The movement was nothing to worry about, allowing him to fade back into the dream, replicating real life in the back of his mind. A smile had touched his lips as he took in her scent again, and behind his lids she smiled back at him. But then came the small cry and his eyes had opened fully.

Never Forgotten; Yllithia

No future plans to finish.

My name? My name is not as important as what one remembers. In years after my passing, my name will change. It will be forgotten, construed, confused with the names of those much greater than myself. Perhaps my race will be all that is remembered, and it’s likely that it will only be my race that remembers me. Time touches us much slower than that of the rest of our world… Our world, another name that will change. As Draenor changed and was forgotten, so shall Azeroth. It is the workings of the legends. The tales that continue through time. A slip of the tongue and it will now be something new, yet the same as it always was, and nothing more than a story of what once was. My name carries no value in the story, whatever weight it may currently hold to whom ever remembers the actions under my name, the story is still the same.

Impending Doom; Yllithia

No future plans to finish.

The halls smelled of death. It was no surprise with what this place was. A citadel floating above the cursed lands where the undead had ravaged everything that once lived. Now a training ground for those that wished to continue on under the new power of the Scourge, King Arthas. King? Technically he was a king. But his kingdom had fallen long ago as well, when he murdered his own father and brought the death into the high walls of his kingdom. Hundreds were torn apart as they had fled from what they believed to be their ruler. And he had smiled, or so the story told.

The Story of Us

 No future plans to finish.

Lithriel was a priest. A rather poor one as well, this may be why they kept him in the basement cataloging and organizing. He had never really cared to be a priest, but it was what his parents wished, and their wishes came first to Lithriel. So he dove in head first, what could a still young elf do then but wish to become such greatness. That which stories were made of. There are many reasons why Lithriel was the way he was, but that's another tale. This one is about his daughter he had yet to even contemplate. Occasionally the temple would allow him to "practice" his arts of Elune, though this mainly consisted of Lithriel praying over small forest animals for hours until he'd finally give up and take the wounded creature home for supper.

Untitled; Yllithia

No future plans to finish.

The fabric was as luxurious as he had claimed. Delicately stitched and a worn feeling to the cloth. Comforting. And.. warm as well. Yllithia slid her hands down her sides, pressing the fabric to her skin, testing it. The cloth emanated a heat, it wasn't her imagination. Such a beautiful gift. It was a shame he hadn't followed her in as she had enticed him to do. Mere minutes before she stood in the doorway as he unbuckled his boots, allowing her previous dress to drop off a shoulder with a grin. He had seen her, lingered on the light purple skin she had exposed, and turned his back. She frowned now thinking on it again, mimicking the sigh she had given as she strode to the foot of the bed, settling on the edge. Ylli ran a hand through her long purple locks, tucking the strands behind a long ear. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her undressed before. Yet, he always insisted on allowing her a separate room to change in before they laid down on the rare nights she was allowed to be by his side.

"Let me know when you're ready." Mutig's voice called from the landing outside the room, pulling her attention to him again.

What Passed is Present; Yllithia

The coldness was creeping over her. Even surrounded by so many, she could feel it blanketing her entire being. She was alone in the crowd. And although she knew he was out there, he’d never be by her side, not with so many around. She let out a frozen breath, a sigh of longing that no one would hear. And the murmurs continued from the crowd, the brief mumbling of thoughts that she didn’t care to pay mind to. Not for a while had she cared to listen to the wants of others. Not when hers weren’t fulfilled.

Her solitary light dimming while her drive, her need to be more, subsided. How long had it been since she was noticed? Since she shone for others to see? 'It’s not my place to change what time dictates...' And she believed the lie. Why shouldn’t she? When causing a rift in the workings of life had done nothing but brought loss to her self, and worse, the end to others… why shouldn’t she believe it? She had learned to accept. And hope was reserved for passing thoughts. Hope was for a lack of planning. A lack of knowledge and logic. She was learning how to rely on more basic instincts than love for humanity. And with that loss of hope came the cold. And the murmurs that she didn’t wish to hear dulled and droned. 'If only he was here.' The thought ignited a small warmth in her chest. She hugged herself, her limbs stiff and heavy as stone. 'Where are you tonight?' Her gaze flowing over the shadowy gray beings around her, the sea of bodies swallowing her up. Getting lost in the crowd.

Do Not Weep

This post is not the work of R.J. Mercy. No credit can be claimed for the following work. The original author is unknown, however, the work appears inside the World of Warcraft game. Credit shall be attributed to Blizzard Entertainment.

Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow across Nothrend's bright and shining snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain on Westfall's fields of golden grain.

I am in the morning hush, of Strangelthorn's jungle, green and lush.

I am in the drums, loud and grand. The thunderous hooves across Nagrand.

I am in the stars, warmly gleaming over Darnassus softly dreaming.

I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I do not die.

Runnig Away; Yllithia

Raindrops spattered on the already soaked clothes clinging to Yllithia's pale, violet tinted skin. Streams of the cold water traced down her body. Trickling along every curve, down every strand of her purple locks. Dripping off the abrupt cliffs of her lashes and other small ledges formed from her silent and still form. Seeping between every saturated crevice in the wood of the large tree she was perched in. Before finally making its way down to the sodden earth, joining the growing pools. Ylli stiffened her back as a shudder trailed up her long spine, causing what would surely be a violent downpour not only from her body but the branches beneath her, to be seen as nothing. The twitch of a few muscles missed in the blink of an eye.

The old tree offered little shelter from the storm, but that was not why she chose it. Kneeling near the trunk, on a limb wide enough to easily accommodate her tall, yet lean size, she was waiting, and watching. Her face flushed from the capillaries trying to keep her heat in. The butterfly wing tattoos across her cheeks dark in contrast to her light skin. Most of her body numb from the lack of clothing, only wearing an earthly colored summer dress. Hands on her knees, the thick of the tree against her back, still as a statue, she had sat for over two hours examining the landscape for the reason she was here.

The Letter; Yllithia

With a sigh that could make the heavens weep, Yllithia ran her fingers over the weather worn parchment again. It was silly to her, how she could hate a piece of paper, and yet have it so dear to her that she couldn't be rid of it. It was her connection. It was all she had to keep her hope alive, and yet, it wasn't full of hope at all. She sucked on her teeth as a shaky hand dared to unfold it to see the words again. Her fingers recoiling once they graced the letter, pulling back with the summoning of pain in her heart. And yet she stared with longing, pressing her lips to keep the tears from spilling. "It's just a letter..." She tried to convince herself, knowing she wouldn't believe the lie. It was so much more than simple words on paper. It was a dream... a fading memory... a nightmare.

Remember; Yllithia

There are possible future additions to this one. It finishes fine how it is, but I left notes to further the story at a later time.

 "In shadows I am hidden."

Yllithia clenched her jaw, gritting her teeth to take her mind off the strain she'd been putting on her arms. She adjusted her grip on her long sword once again. The wicked, serrated blade stretching out towards the Naga in front of her. Pointed from her eye level to where she would plunge it through their belly or back. They were unaware of her presence. She had made certain of that, quietly sneaking through the cold lake, barely causing a ripple when she slunk ashore. And easily sliding into the shadows of the steam pumps.

"In stealth I do wait."

Into the Shadows; Yllithia

Distant thunder rolled through the dreary grey sky, echoing eerily off the rotting buildings. The fog that hung made it sound muted, muffled. As if this really were a dream Yllithia was wandering through. The silent spirits didn't help the scene at all. With feet that never touched the ground they wandered through the rubble, conversations that were never heard passed through the image of their parted lips. Lifeless eyes that watched as Yllithia walked past, but not seeing her, seeing through her. To be seen meant to be sought after. And although her holy light amplified the beacon to lost souls, she was lost even to them. These beings didn't want to see her. They were hopelessly content on living out the life they believed they still had, in the rubble they never saw, of the town that wasn't anymore.

Words Change Things; Yllithia

Yllithia sighed lightly. She must have known how things were going to end. The answers to the questions that were never asked. Ones he didn't want the rest of Stormwind hearing. "Do you know someplace more private we could go?" He was nervous. He had asked to make this a private matter. There was little he kept private. And it was here, the falls, that she had first thought of. And it was here that she took him. And it was now that she realized she already knew. There was no reason for him to go on.

Romantic was what one had said. And to most it may seem that way. But nothing but blackness and sorrow seeped into the lives of lovers or friends that spent time here. She believed land could be cursed. And it was here she was certain was. Yet she brought him. Here she stood, staring at his scared visage. The stream to his back, the falls to her right, and cliffs and the ocean behind her. It could have been romantic. It was a partially clear night. The air was fresh, the breeze blew in from the sea. It was peaceful, not a soul around, just the babbling of the water, cascading down to the earth below. It could have been romantic if one didn't know what Yllithia had learned long ago.

Not Goodbye; Yllithia

"Ylli, you know what I want." Tserai said, a sigh in his voice.

She had asked him what his desire was. Something they asked each other often. They could talk freely to each other. And it was understood that whatever it was at that moment that they wanted, it was always within easy reach. She was different, he had said several times. Tserai didn't speak to anyone. Especially about his wants. And even more so about his past. Both of which he shared with this priestess. She was different.

Calling the Beast; Yllithia

 If this looks familiar, it's because it is! The original idea behind the T&A story. Obviously things have changed a bit, but half of it is word for word the same.

Yllithia felt drained. No, it was worse than drained, at least being drained she could rest and regain her strength in order to continue on, this wasn't the case. She was still standing and feverishly repeating the same incantations over and over again, only a name change every so often dictating who the receiver of her holy power would be this time. With each spell she felt herself slipping further and further into exhaustion, darkness teetering on the edge of her vision. No! She wasn't going to fail them, this band she happened to be thrown in with while exploring the new evils of the Outlands. Slow from her single minded determination she didn't notice the ethereal charging for her.

A Blessing a Day; Yllithia

The silver pools for eyes swept over the denizens of Stormwind, exploring each persons mind for the briefest of seconds before moving on to the next. She wasn't prying, nor was she delving. No. She was merely checking up on each travelers well being. A wave of whispers, of thoughts and errands were the usual thing with each small hop. With those she'd simply smile to herself, keeping the sweet, content look on her face, and possibly a silent blessing to the unaware transient before moving on. It was the other whispers that she would linger on. The ones that were a warning of someone needing help. A blessing from her rich red lips. Another jump. Another blessing.

Lustful Shadows

My first attempt at erotica. Unfinished and no future plans to finish.

The shadows kissed my naked skin, offering the blanket I didn't need on these hot summer nights. Nights made all the more steamy from the toying we often did with each others desires. Nights like tonight, in which you had played out another erotic short causing me to curse the distance between us, but not stopping that urge from growing inside me. "Just remember" you had said, and the vivid thoughts came rushing back, catching my breath with how delicious it would be to act out.

What Lurks in the Dark?

Darkness is not just an absence of light, as most would believe. No. Darkness is a palpable thing. One of which all people can control.

Can find fear or comfort in.

Can grow to love.

Or to hate.

And can spread with the simplest of gestures, the simplest of thoughts.

Without meaning.

There was a time when it frightened me.

Lost in Grey

Shades of grey
offer nothing new
as the howling wolf
bays at the moon,

hungry for
his summer feast
of young that have lost
the fear of the beast.

Goku

Long was the work I slaved for today;
Woe was me for I wished to play.

Finally the end, my home was near,
The escape from my family and my peers.

Shedding the suit of which I adorned,
To a Night Elf huntress I transformed.

T&A: The Rogue and the Priest

He plunged his dagger into the beasts back. The spot just below the ribs, perfect place to pierce a kidney. More than the kidney, the nerves there as well.

The creature couldn't move, couldn't call out. It stood there, clearly in horror at it's failings. The look was plain on it's face. Surprise. Fear. Both overshadowing the burning hatred that it had previously been sporting.

And again, there was the surprise as Caynin twisted the blade. Probing the beast with the thin metal. Attempting to keep him frozen in place.

T&A: Hope; Featuring Dezem

There's many tales of loss, of pain, of love, and of gain.
 

But if you listen to me today, you'll learn what each of those will eventually lead to. Hope. Even in the darkest of times, hope is what will come to show you the way.
 

It may be nothing but the lightest of sparks, but it's there. And if you give in to it, you'll find what you're looking for.

Let me tell you of a man I once- A man that was known once. By an advancing priestess, Velynn.

The Ooze Who Loved

It folded in on its self. If you could see below the gelatinous goo that was its body, you'd see the suffering that coursed through it now. One might not realize how much a blob does feel. One might not care to when such dark, depressing emotions take hold of it, as was current with this one.

It tried again, its mass of a head pointed towards the sagging oak. Slowly, as it'd practiced in its mind over and over again, the blob flowed to the stump. Circling the tree, it coated the bark with the blobs own secretions of tainted green. No movement. The tree stood still, silent. The vicious liquid slide down the coat of the tree, seeping into the pores, pooling on the ground. The tree didn't show any sign of enjoyment, no understanding of this special practice of the blob race. As it had done during the blobs previous visits, it remained cold and uncaring towards the sludge's advancements.

T&A: Calling the Beast

There the party stood, though standing isn't the right word. Braced is more like it. Onslaught of wave after wave of dragonkin poured towards them. All with a lust for blood, rage driving these poor souls.

These hero's had been through much already. All trying to keep the wheels of time from being disrupted. They battled for their present, though bleak as it was, they stood their ground, in their past, for their future.

Shadow volley after ice blast beat at the group. Whelps screeched as they nipped at the party members, wanting no more than to tear the adventurers gaze away from their task so ultimate destruction could claim the land. But they wouldn't be swayed. There they pushed, summoning every ounce of strength they could muster to continue for a future already seen.

Light Within Us

This post is not the work of R.J. Mercy. No credit can be claimed for the following work. The original author is unknown, however, the work appears inside the World of Warcraft game. Credit shall be attributed to Blizzard Entertainment.

It has been made known to me that inside each of us, the Light resides...that it is a gift, given freely to all naturally born beings, it manifests itself as a feeling, small at first and easily ignored, that confirms the truths and the subtly prods one to do good.

T&A: A Love Story

This post is not the work of R.J. Mercy. No credit can be claimed for the following work. The original author is unknown, however, permission was given to reproduce the work in a public forum for no monetary gain.

In twilight's gaze on enigmatic twilight, between ponderous gaze affliction. Doth tell the script of a new found glory, insightful love and wisdom.

Aberrant true hearts, entwined in piercing gaze. Unspoken faith, each hand as clasped, pertinence ablaze.

My Goddess abound I shall not whisper, in life, in love, I'm blessed. Tonight the fire, an enigmatic inspiration, vexation to words distressed.

Doth seen through my eyes, the whispering sonnet, as light appears to me. This one true heart, abound by thine mission, is all I have left to be.

Foresee my life, and blood in churn, Aphasia to those beseeched. My tempted fate, unruled by nature, and bottled in things reach.

And blessed are those, who found what may, and lovers bound as one. That truth be told, the heart a chamber, is what divinity has shown.

T&A: Kraken

This post is not the work of R.J. Mercy. No credit can be claimed for the following work. The original author is unknown, however, permission was given to reproduce the work in a public forum for no monetary gain.

Below the thunders of the upper deep;
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep,
the Kraken sleepeth; faintest sunlight's flee
About his shadowy sides: above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous rot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain and for ages will lie
Battering upon huge sea worms in his sleep.
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep
Then once by man and angels to be seen in roaring he shall rise on the surface and die.

I Am The Warrior

This post is not the work of R.J. Mercy. No credit can be claimed for the following work. The original author is unknown.

I am the Warrior.

When you see me, I will, most likely, not be attired formally. I will be encased in my steel. It will be dirty, bloody, and battered. I do not have a quick tongue or eloquent speech. I know nothing of the manners of the King's court, or the etiquette of the formal ball.

I am known by many names. Tank. Meatshield. Fighter. Brawler. Corpse.

Dark Within Us

The dripping never ceases
in the minds cavernous reaches
where the doves and the crows scrabble away.

The call for night increases
as the blinding light pierces
the desperation that has come to stay.

The engulfing darkness teaches
and the loneliness is speechless
as the life is swallowed by the shade.

The blackness does impede us,
smother and deceive us
to find the stillness a comforting place.

And the dripping never ceases
and the doves, they lay in pieces
in the hollow where there's no light of day.

Tales and Ales: Skittle and the Dwarf

Welcome all, now listen close. I've a spell to weave, a tale of course. It's of magic and might, of Gnomes and Dwarves. Of fire and ice, drunks, and no tale is complete without a battle of sorts.

It starts like any other, in the city of Ironforge. A normal day of hustle and bustle. A smog covered city with the clanging of hammers and the shouts of those going about their business. Here we find the heroine, Skittle, a Gnome of average demeanor. Cute in her small size, wandering along her arms full of scrolls for her next training session. This day was like any other for her, as it was for most others. Head full of knowledge and eyes on her parchment, checking and rechecking to make sure she wouldn't forget something this time before seeing her mentor.

Perhaps everything that will become was all a chance, or perhaps it was fate that a half sober Dwarf wandered in her path. Nearly colliding she came to a halt, he stared for a moment his breath smelling of malt. Slightly agitated, she didn't want to be late and rustling the scrolls she glared at the intrusion.

What Makes you Tick? Featuring Kirria and Koehler

Kirria mused to herself looking over the paper she found next to her trainer. He'd mentioned it to her before bestowing her with his knowledge of the light, surely she could return her gratitude with a few questions. She shuffled through her bag easily finding the pen, not much else besides the necessities filled her sack these days.

"I'll have this for you in a moment." Kirria smiled and scooted to the wall, not noticing her mentor was paying her little mind but instead staring at something with a rather uncertain look upon his face. She gently sat down hunched over the paper, she read it carefully for the second time, again, slightly amused at the oddity of the questions. And here where they trained, as if they didn't know who they were taking in.

She sighed at the thought. She knew what type of people they taught.

Tapping her pen on the floor she began forming her thoughts.

The Long and Nasty of my Primary Heroine

The story of Yllithia Loreweaver is exactly that, a story. And a long one I might add. If you like the short and bittersweet it goes roughly like so:

Yllithia was born 346 years ago.
She grew up.
She fell in love.
Her mother disappeared.
He didn't love her.
She left home with her father.
Her father died.
She became a priest.
She moved to Stormwind.

Easy enough, but you miss out on everything that makes her her that way. But as said, the long version is that, long and drawn out. Let me see if I can elaborate in a tidy fashion.

Sweetness; Yllithia

There were whispers, of course there were. Priests and priestesses liked to speak in hushed tones. Never really showing who they were, they'd conceal any hard feelings with a smile and respectful bow, then the whispers would come when they believed you were out of earshot. It sickened her. Yllithia hated the way they all seemed two face, hated the way they had spoke of her father, of her mother, and now of her as she walked the halls. She'd grind her teeth, she'd hold back a growl, but she learned quick enough that her father had been right about the smile. It was her most powerful weapon.

She silently walked the corridor. Silence was second nature to her, so many years training to do it just right proved to give her the upper hand in these treacherously unfriendly halls. Finally coming to a stop she held her breath, listening for the murmurs of those hushed tones she'd grown so used to eaves dropping on. Sure enough he was speaking to someone. "We can't keep her doing field work forever. She's too smart, too cunning. I've seen her playing with the old text books."

"Yes... we can't keep her with the books, she knows how to find things too well there as well." The feminine voice muttered. No doubt a high priestess that felt threatened by Yllithia's natural affinity to the magics of Elune.

Atonement; Yllithia

"Yllithia, we share your loss. I assume you're here to pick up his things?" The solemn faced priest gave her a bow while speaking. She didn't let her eyes follow his movements, she was used to taking everything in without focusing, this time was no different. She shook her head pressing her lips into a soft smile. It was visible she was trying to keep it there, but she knew her father would have scolded her otherwise. It's the way you present yourself in which people will trust. Keep it there or you'll lose your only advantage. She didn't want to smile, she didn't want to remember her father. She wanted to sob, to scream, to allow everyone in that temple to know the darkness of her grief. But she kept her composure.

"No. His things belong here. His work was always for the temple." It took every ounce of strength she had to keep from wavering on those words. Her father had loved this place, loved it as a second child, one that came even before her.

Blossoming Youth; Yllithia

Yllithia grinned to herself as she eyed Rynylious from the door way. Shortly after dusk, time and time again she'd slipped through the halls of the temple, taking up this very spot, cloaked in shadows to gaze at the older druid. It was the best time to do so due to his abnormal sleeping schedule. He always seemed to bathe before taking up to his reading and retiring for what most Kaldorei would consider their day, but Rynylious' night. Handsome was too weak of a word to use. His evening ritual would leave his long teal hair tinted to a ocean blue. The usual braids removed causing it to flow down past his shoulders in rippling waves, his desk lamp illuminating the silvery strands within the sea causing them to sparkle as if it truly were at mercy to the ebb and flow of the moon.

Knowledge; Yllithia

Yllithia sighed as she laid the over sized book down. She looked around her to see new stacks, new piles of things to catalog and organize. "Papa?" She queried. A grunt let her know he heard her. "Are you happy here?" The pages he was turning stopped. There was a small scruff from the other side of the library and moments later he was standing in front of her, brow furrowed.

Compassion; Yllithia

The sun burned down on Yllithia. It was so bright, she'd only seen a few sunrises in her time, and the occasional set, but twilight was much different than the glaring light of what she'd guess was mid-day. Even though everything shone, she didn't feel the heat. It was cold and pressing, as if she was encased in stone. Shielding her eyes she took in the scene. The wind was playing on a vast plain, short grass parched in the dusky landscape swirled. But all was not so plain in the tones of red and yellow of heat. Ahead was a small green patch, a hill shaded what seemed to be an oasis. Trees sprouted around, lush and full of life. Green grass blanketed the shaded area, moss crawling up the only sign of life this desolate place revealed. And in the center of all this greenery was a crystal clear blue pool. It almost hurt to look at it, the way it mirrored the sun back. Between Yllithia's blinking she focused on movement. It wasn't just a plain landscape after all. She caught her breath as joy surged through her, a bright smile quickly grew as she ran towards the oasis.

Perception; A Short on Yllithia

"Ish'nu ala Brother." Lithriel bowed his head to a priest who resembled nothing of Lithriel.

Yllithia blinked, clearly confused. Her father didn't have siblings that she could remember. Not only that, but there was no resemblance. She was smart enough to know that you looked like those you were related to, she carried many of the feature of both her parents. Lithriel was thin, even going so far as to say lanky. He wasn't much taller than most others, but his thin body often times made him look so. His teal hair had been fading to a silvery white color, though Yllithia had never seen what true beauty it had been when Lithriel was young, it reminded her of rain now, the way it was only hinted at having any blue left in it. And the skin, it was pink in nature, nothing at all what this other man portrayed. She looked back and forth as they spoke a few moments, the other man was stout if you would. Seven foot and a solid frame, blue skin and startling emerald hair. They couldn't be related. Lithriel cast a glance to her as he spoke, and in the brief moment of doing so he tapped his nose to her, widening his smile as well. Ylli had almost forgotten, she pushed down her confusion about the relationship her father and this unknown man had and psyched herself up so she almost giggled. A joyous grin on her face.

Departure; A short on Yllithia

"Come Ylli, you're coming with me today." Lithriel called.

Yllithia rolled over in the grass. She'd been staring at the clouds, a favorite past-time between her random sprints she'd take through the forest. She smiled at her father, the big, sweet grin she'd learned from her parents, her chubby cheeks squinting up her eyes. She was young, very young, just reaching the age of 52 the last spring; for a Kaldorei that lived forever she was still much a child, and it showed. Her eyes bright with innocence, unknown of the horrors that had passed millennia before hand, nor of those that would come to pass centuries from now. Her violet hair tussled from lack of care for it, her purple tinted skin light from the lack of sun, and her blue and violet hued tattoos of butterfly wings playing such a contrasting role to her features, dark they were, while causing the rest of her to seem even more illuminated in the moon.