You know how goblins work, chief. Always with the bombs and the traps and the tripwires. Admittedly, such things do come in handy, but it's hell on having houseguests.
The Weathered Cot: Sway A While And Listen
CLANK. CLANK CLANK. CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK.
I'll hear it in my nightmares.
I'll hear it in my nightmares.
Oh god. Please don't.
Poor Apo and Rhy - they have to touch him after too when they tank him. The things they do for us. I'd say we give the tanks raises, but that would cut into my spa budget. Someone send them an Edible Arrangement, or maybe a nice ham.
Scratch that. Nice glazed ham to Rhy, a beef loin roast to Apolex. Yes, yes, that'll do nicely.
*splooshes warm water over his bark and leans back in the sauna*
Scratch that. Nice glazed ham to Rhy, a beef loin roast to Apolex. Yes, yes, that'll do nicely.
*splooshes warm water over his bark and leans back in the sauna*
*sneaks into Finn's spa and locks the sauna door*
You sneaky shaman.
This is the second time you've tried to kill me. When I figure out a way to get out of here, you'll pay.
*splooshes more water on his bark, takes a relaxing sigh*
But not now.
This is the second time you've tried to kill me. When I figure out a way to get out of here, you'll pay.
*splooshes more water on his bark, takes a relaxing sigh*
But not now.
Edited by Finnaeus on 1/31/2014 11:13 AM PST
Now I assure you my dear this sauna is absolutely delightful. Getting a reservation here has been near impossible since their reputation has spread, thankfully I managed to acquire my own key *reaches into his pocket for the key and slowly unlocks the door* so we will have this all to ourselves for the eveni...
WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE? Why is there a tree in my beautiful sauna?
WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE? Why is there a tree in my beautiful sauna?
*watches the doors open*
Oh. Company! If I knew I was going to have company I would have spruced up the shrubbery. My leaves are wilting and everything! How long have I been in here?
*creaks and waves a welcoming branch*
There's plenty of room, don't be shy.
Oh. Company! If I knew I was going to have company I would have spruced up the shrubbery. My leaves are wilting and everything! How long have I been in here?
*creaks and waves a welcoming branch*
There's plenty of room, don't be shy.
*walks to the guild bar and removes her mask showing a fresh 6 inch scar along her neckline*
I want the strongest drink in the house, please.
I want the strongest drink in the house, please.
This wasn't his dwelling place, this oaky tavern of cobwebbed rafters and quivering candlelights. But on occasion, in the quit intermission between the nocturnes of his life, Liore Bloodwing found time to sink shotglasses and brood over the portents of the past.
He chose to occupy a quiet corner, all cigarette smoke and poison eyes. No armor tonight; dark pants and a loose sleeved shirt. Vest, boots. Peacoat hanging uninvitingly over the remaining chair at his creaky table, a functional rapier slouched beside it.
Adrift in the maelstrom of thought, he stared distantly at a glimmer of light. The longer he stared, the more it resolved into a familiar figure. Devynn had walked beside the Coterie for years now; she was there for the fall of Arthas. She was there when Amberl-
A tilt of the head. The burn of hard liquor, snaking down his throat and filling his core with bitter, unresolved heat. The small glass clanked hollow on his table, joining its neglected peers. He was not unsteady on his feet, heaving up upon them and striding purposefully to the counter. The unsteadiness resided behind stormy eyes, where thoughts of savagery waged war with reason.
Liore slumped into the seat beside the paladin, leaning his handsome cheek into an upturned palm.
"You look like twenty miles of bad road," he observed gravely in a voice that was more a battlefield standard, frayed and weathered by hail and steel.
He chose to occupy a quiet corner, all cigarette smoke and poison eyes. No armor tonight; dark pants and a loose sleeved shirt. Vest, boots. Peacoat hanging uninvitingly over the remaining chair at his creaky table, a functional rapier slouched beside it.
Adrift in the maelstrom of thought, he stared distantly at a glimmer of light. The longer he stared, the more it resolved into a familiar figure. Devynn had walked beside the Coterie for years now; she was there for the fall of Arthas. She was there when Amberl-
A tilt of the head. The burn of hard liquor, snaking down his throat and filling his core with bitter, unresolved heat. The small glass clanked hollow on his table, joining its neglected peers. He was not unsteady on his feet, heaving up upon them and striding purposefully to the counter. The unsteadiness resided behind stormy eyes, where thoughts of savagery waged war with reason.
Liore slumped into the seat beside the paladin, leaning his handsome cheek into an upturned palm.
"You look like twenty miles of bad road," he observed gravely in a voice that was more a battlefield standard, frayed and weathered by hail and steel.
Finnaeus adjusted in the shadows, his form indiscriminate from the dust and darkness that clung to the corners of the tavern. It was small space, perching on one of the rafters, but growing accustomed to cramped spaces was a requirement in his line of work. He watched as one elf, and then two, approached the counter to buy drinks. Alcohol, he thought with a bit of derision. Finn could count the times he was drunk on one hand. Two hands, now that your hands only have three troll fingers, he thought to himself. It caused a nasty pang of anger, that thought, but he shook it off.
The mechanical monocle whirred on his right eye. One snap, and then two - images of both elves recorded. The gnomish device was invaluable, once he got the hang of it - the poor gnome who designed the thing, Teslo Brightsprocket, took weeks to teach him how to use it. It misfired every now and then - the one time it sparked and burned his eye stood out in particular. Took a few days to heal it, but when the little contraption worked smoothly, it was a true piece of work.
The H.U.D. on the monocle flickered, and two names passed in his vision. The first, Liore Bloodwing. Liore he knew, having met him in Silvermoon and joined the Coterie. The second, Devynn Khandesi, was a name that had to have been pulled from the Coterie roster that he pilfered. He would have to learn more about this one.
For a second, the thought flickered to join them. These were his comrades, no? But something held him back. He assisted when they needed it, aided where he could. But get to know them? Socialize? Those were things he didn't know if he was ready for. Or wanted.
He tapped the monocle, and it whirred again, powering down. With one last look at the two elves - his mind torn in its usual two - he uttered a few quick words, and vanished from the bar.
The mechanical monocle whirred on his right eye. One snap, and then two - images of both elves recorded. The gnomish device was invaluable, once he got the hang of it - the poor gnome who designed the thing, Teslo Brightsprocket, took weeks to teach him how to use it. It misfired every now and then - the one time it sparked and burned his eye stood out in particular. Took a few days to heal it, but when the little contraption worked smoothly, it was a true piece of work.
The H.U.D. on the monocle flickered, and two names passed in his vision. The first, Liore Bloodwing. Liore he knew, having met him in Silvermoon and joined the Coterie. The second, Devynn Khandesi, was a name that had to have been pulled from the Coterie roster that he pilfered. He would have to learn more about this one.
For a second, the thought flickered to join them. These were his comrades, no? But something held him back. He assisted when they needed it, aided where he could. But get to know them? Socialize? Those were things he didn't know if he was ready for. Or wanted.
He tapped the monocle, and it whirred again, powering down. With one last look at the two elves - his mind torn in its usual two - he uttered a few quick words, and vanished from the bar.
Devynn head the footfalls coming to the bar, her senses slightly dulled from the drink but she knew who it was she saw him as she walked in, Liore Bloodwing she smiled a bit to herself, Liore was one in her eyes that always got things done. "20 miles?" she replied "more like 30." She was wearing her armor, she had just come back from settling old scores in Northrend, but one final task lay before her.
She took up her glass, gave a quite salute to Liore and drank the rest of the ale, as she finished she had noted a Troll walking away, he was new to her, but then she had heard that the Coterie had undergone a massive expansion in her absence, she would need to learn who all these new allies were, but for now
she needed help.
"Lio, my friend. It has been far too long." a tinge of regret hung in her words. "I am back and finished with the Argent Crusade, but a particular individual refuses to understand this concept. He sent a pair of assassins after me and if not for a timely intervention by Sunchin, I would not be here." Instinctively her hand went to her scar where her finger traced the path it took along her neck. "I have been trying to track this guy down, the information given to me by the assassin has proven to be incorrect. I tried baiting him but he is proving to be far more clever than I would have given him credit for." I was wondering if you had any contacts or someone you can reach out to that might be able to locate this man."
She described Adain to Lio, 5'2" stocky build, balding, but with a bit of red hair left, his eyes were brown, and he maintained a clean shaven face.
As she finished she motioned for another drink. grabbed the glass, and awaited Liore's response.
She took up her glass, gave a quite salute to Liore and drank the rest of the ale, as she finished she had noted a Troll walking away, he was new to her, but then she had heard that the Coterie had undergone a massive expansion in her absence, she would need to learn who all these new allies were, but for now
she needed help.
"Lio, my friend. It has been far too long." a tinge of regret hung in her words. "I am back and finished with the Argent Crusade, but a particular individual refuses to understand this concept. He sent a pair of assassins after me and if not for a timely intervention by Sunchin, I would not be here." Instinctively her hand went to her scar where her finger traced the path it took along her neck. "I have been trying to track this guy down, the information given to me by the assassin has proven to be incorrect. I tried baiting him but he is proving to be far more clever than I would have given him credit for." I was wondering if you had any contacts or someone you can reach out to that might be able to locate this man."
She described Adain to Lio, 5'2" stocky build, balding, but with a bit of red hair left, his eyes were brown, and he maintained a clean shaven face.
As she finished she motioned for another drink. grabbed the glass, and awaited Liore's response.
Belpha walks in to the bar. And then promptly slaughtered by the guards and thrown out of the city. "Curse this Coterie! They don't even have the decency to share their ale in piece. I'll make them pay! They'll see. EVERYONE will see!" Belpha starts laughing maniacally, turning to leave he trips on a pebble and faceplants. "I know this was your fault somehow, Coterie." Belpha trudges off to wherever to plot his next step.
*presses a red button on his controller. As the shaman trundles off, the pebble sprouts mechanical legs, like a spider, and then skurries back to the druid, who then picks it up and deactivates it*
"A job well done, Pebble Spider Bot 3498. On to the next stage - Operation: Door Won't Open and Belpha Walks Into!"
*maniacal laugh*
"A job well done, Pebble Spider Bot 3498. On to the next stage - Operation: Door Won't Open and Belpha Walks Into!"
*maniacal laugh*
The old warrior played it pretty cool. Making a big deal about scratching at the three-day neglected shave creeping over his chin, squinting with contrived thoughtfulness at the description of Adain. Be it by province or alcohol, recognition didn't quite flicker in the thunder-clad storms of his eyes.
"An Argent Crusade Commander. Well. You -have- been busy, haven't you."
An Inquisitor isn't someone who hands out favors. They don't preach goodwill for all mankind, doling out tactical advice, taking payment in the form of hugs and beaming faces. They make their way discreetly, slithering through the soil. Selecting the -exact- moment to burst out of the ground and bite with pain-wracking venom; the serpents you should fear most are those who never rattle, never hiss.
So this, this was a favor for a friend. Bloodwing was just deciding upon how much spectacle this friendship merited.
The options were tantalizing. Infiltrate the Crusade's ranks, sow seeds of dissension in the Commander's platoons. Instigate paranoia in his officers, uncover incompetence for his superiors. Force him into a place of weakness, friendless and disliked, then arrive as an insightful friend.
Could put the badge to use. The more clever a man, the more he would know to fear the Inquistion. Let word slip that a -real- badass wanted a chunk out of Devynn, maybe the good Commander would be wise enough to step down. Then its just a matter of striking out at him when he's become comfortable.
Or, and this one threatened a cruel smirk over tilted lips, he could make things REAL simple. Call in the Guttersnipes. Retrieve the Commander. Burn -everything-.
A sigh trickled from his perfect nose, luminous eyes snaking over Devynn's weary, resolute form. None of the above, he decided at last.
"I will have a location by dawn. I could have his schedule for the next three days by noon, if you'd like. I've got an agent that could replace his boots with pom poms and glow-sticks and he wouldn't know the difference."
He touched a fingertip to his pursed lips, resting his fore teeth on it. "I've got 'contacts', Dev. Resources. But this is personal, isn't it. So lets settle; you tell me precisely what you need, and I will tell you what it will cost."
Finnaeus, in an ongoing string of unnervingly competent snoopfests, eluded Liore's attention entirely. He was just too sneaky, the lanky troll bastard.
"An Argent Crusade Commander. Well. You -have- been busy, haven't you."
An Inquisitor isn't someone who hands out favors. They don't preach goodwill for all mankind, doling out tactical advice, taking payment in the form of hugs and beaming faces. They make their way discreetly, slithering through the soil. Selecting the -exact- moment to burst out of the ground and bite with pain-wracking venom; the serpents you should fear most are those who never rattle, never hiss.
So this, this was a favor for a friend. Bloodwing was just deciding upon how much spectacle this friendship merited.
The options were tantalizing. Infiltrate the Crusade's ranks, sow seeds of dissension in the Commander's platoons. Instigate paranoia in his officers, uncover incompetence for his superiors. Force him into a place of weakness, friendless and disliked, then arrive as an insightful friend.
Could put the badge to use. The more clever a man, the more he would know to fear the Inquistion. Let word slip that a -real- badass wanted a chunk out of Devynn, maybe the good Commander would be wise enough to step down. Then its just a matter of striking out at him when he's become comfortable.
Or, and this one threatened a cruel smirk over tilted lips, he could make things REAL simple. Call in the Guttersnipes. Retrieve the Commander. Burn -everything-.
A sigh trickled from his perfect nose, luminous eyes snaking over Devynn's weary, resolute form. None of the above, he decided at last.
"I will have a location by dawn. I could have his schedule for the next three days by noon, if you'd like. I've got an agent that could replace his boots with pom poms and glow-sticks and he wouldn't know the difference."
He touched a fingertip to his pursed lips, resting his fore teeth on it. "I've got 'contacts', Dev. Resources. But this is personal, isn't it. So lets settle; you tell me precisely what you need, and I will tell you what it will cost."
Finnaeus, in an ongoing string of unnervingly competent snoopfests, eluded Liore's attention entirely. He was just too sneaky, the lanky troll bastard.
Edited by Liore on 2/6/2014 9:56 AM PST
Devynn leaned back as far as she could in the creaky barstool with out falling over. She knew this was a big favor to call in and the price of which was not lost on her. What did she want though, she thought for several moment s looking at Lio with his trademark grin, the kind of grin that said he had something up his sleeve, however what that was most did not know what was going on until it was too late.
What did she want though? Revenge, closure, or maybe absolusion. No she thought revenge while pleasent would lead her down a path that she might not ever come back from, but was that the real reason or was a lieshe was telling herself so she could sleep at night. Was Adain worth her soul, in the end she was able to reason out this would not be in the pursuit of revenge but justice. Bringing in a corrupt member of the Argent Crusade. Not unheard of it was done in New Hearthglenn a while back and Trion Fordring had expressed his sincere gratitude. So it was decided, for justice her conscience clear and her heart clear as well she snapped back to reality, Lio looking at her with his rough beard and finger pressed to his lips.
"Lio, thank you for this truly you are a good friend for this favor. I know this is a big favor to ask and that you are essentially killing someone you nothing about. Is this personal you asked, very, I have to properly thank him for this new necklace he gave me." She pointed at the scar running across her neck. It had healed well enough but without some type of magic or specialist healing it would always look like this from now on.
"What I would like is for him to be brought here, how is not important, I want him to enjoy himself avail himself to all that we have to offer here. Then after he has passed out from the nights festivities, I will remove him from here take him to where I am keeping his conspirators in this and chain him right next to the assassin he hired to kill me." I want to know why he couldn't just let me leave, sure I MAY have been a bit forceful, but to outright want me dead? I cant help but feel there is more to this." With that she leaned forwa rd d rested her elbows on the bar corner took a look at her half full drink and finished it.
What did she want though? Revenge, closure, or maybe absolusion. No she thought revenge while pleasent would lead her down a path that she might not ever come back from, but was that the real reason or was a lieshe was telling herself so she could sleep at night. Was Adain worth her soul, in the end she was able to reason out this would not be in the pursuit of revenge but justice. Bringing in a corrupt member of the Argent Crusade. Not unheard of it was done in New Hearthglenn a while back and Trion Fordring had expressed his sincere gratitude. So it was decided, for justice her conscience clear and her heart clear as well she snapped back to reality, Lio looking at her with his rough beard and finger pressed to his lips.
"Lio, thank you for this truly you are a good friend for this favor. I know this is a big favor to ask and that you are essentially killing someone you nothing about. Is this personal you asked, very, I have to properly thank him for this new necklace he gave me." She pointed at the scar running across her neck. It had healed well enough but without some type of magic or specialist healing it would always look like this from now on.
"What I would like is for him to be brought here, how is not important, I want him to enjoy himself avail himself to all that we have to offer here. Then after he has passed out from the nights festivities, I will remove him from here take him to where I am keeping his conspirators in this and chain him right next to the assassin he hired to kill me." I want to know why he couldn't just let me leave, sure I MAY have been a bit forceful, but to outright want me dead? I cant help but feel there is more to this." With that she leaned forwa rd d rested her elbows on the bar corner took a look at her half full drink and finished it.
Zulalam failed to notice Finnaeus as he ambled into the bar. Always seeming to be following Finn without really realizing it. Once inside he saw Liore and was going to say something, but noticed he was speaking with another and decided to stay silent. Instead Zulalam simply got the barkeep's attention and ordered a stiff drink before retreating to a dark corner to muse in silence.
After taking his seat and taking a sip Zulalam laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Once the burn of the initial gulp wore off he picked up his mug for another and noticed that he was now covered in feathers.
"Must 'ave shifted to my Moonkin form," he mumbled to himself.
Then he took another swallow and again rested his head back. Suddenly he felt himself slipping, like he didn't fit in his seat. Zulalam opened his eyes as he fell to the ground and realized he was on all fours.
"Ah, and now I be a cat, dis be why I avoid da liquor most times."
Zulalam left his unfinished drink on the table and made his way out of the tavern. All while constantly shifting between different forms. His purposeful march to the door was only slowed for a brief second when he shifted into his aquatic form of a sea lion. After flopping around uselessly for a few seconds he shifted back into a more land-friendly form and left the tavern, hoping no one had noticed.
After taking his seat and taking a sip Zulalam laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Once the burn of the initial gulp wore off he picked up his mug for another and noticed that he was now covered in feathers.
"Must 'ave shifted to my Moonkin form," he mumbled to himself.
Then he took another swallow and again rested his head back. Suddenly he felt himself slipping, like he didn't fit in his seat. Zulalam opened his eyes as he fell to the ground and realized he was on all fours.
"Ah, and now I be a cat, dis be why I avoid da liquor most times."
Zulalam left his unfinished drink on the table and made his way out of the tavern. All while constantly shifting between different forms. His purposeful march to the door was only slowed for a brief second when he shifted into his aquatic form of a sea lion. After flopping around uselessly for a few seconds he shifted back into a more land-friendly form and left the tavern, hoping no one had noticed.
(( Hey fellow wayfarers. I'll be getting a new computer soonish (within the next two to three weeks) so I'll be starting back up WoW a tad earlier than I planned on. Mainly because I'll be afraid that I might miss something important patch wise within the next month or so. Don't know if I'll be back before or after the realm connection, hopefully it won't cause any issues re-subbing.))
With nothing productive to say, Liore opted to say nothing. For the remainder of the evening, he would slant beside Devynn, nursing a bottle of bourbon. He had a plan in about five minutes. It wasn't clean. But clean doesn't send messages. And as his poison stare flickered over the tender thread of pale flesh upsetting the sharp perfection of the paladin's chin, he decided a message was in order.
You do not touch a Wayfarer.
The druid Zulalam occupied a quiet table, seeming indecicive about what shape he wanted to affect for what Liore imagined could only be a night of whoring and high debauchery. Handsome devil like that had little else in store, on a Friday night. The tavern certainly wasn't much of an attraction.
It was called Mekong, named after the owner, named after the song. Liore Bloodwing decided one night to try and find some insights at the bottom of a bottle, and had come stomping into the mist-clad tavern nestled into the western mountainside scything through the Jade Forest, brimming with broodiness. He'd whittled away a few hours, chatting aimlessly with Mekong himself; turned out the old red Panda was ex-Shado Pan, living out his dream off a handsome pension. Only, his people were too preoccupied with beer to really develop a taste for hard liquor, fine wines.
When the mist fell, import and export exploded. But old Mekong couldn't drum up enough customers to keep the creaky tavern operational. Thats when half-drunk Lio decided to buy the place.
Now it functioned as an unoffical hangout for his guild that was not a guild at all. The Guttersnipes who could behave enough to be tolerated in public would roll in time and again, off-duty Shado-Pan with good taste, or travel-weary adventurers running errands through the Forest; all with coin and story could find a spot by the fire, to catch breath or lose it to the potent alcohol.
Old Mekong rumbled down the bar, turning that eternal mug with that eternal rag. He never actually offered that mug to anyone. Liore was beginning to suspect there was a tale behind it, but for all their comraderie, he couldn't quite coax it out of him. This is where his mind wandered to, as the bottle of bourbon sank and sank, and the cold ache in his heart dulled and dulled.
This job for Devynn was so sure and uncomplex a task, he dwelt upon it no longer. At about half-past, some dark-clad Forsaken blew in, shared a couple of curt words. Saluted, then breezed on out, leaving behind a cold, deadly wind.
Yes. A message was in order.
The long-dead parts of Liore Bloodwing that knew pity spared some for Commander Adain. Hell hath no fury like a woman what survived a failed assassination attempt. Ask me how I know.
You do not touch a Wayfarer.
The druid Zulalam occupied a quiet table, seeming indecicive about what shape he wanted to affect for what Liore imagined could only be a night of whoring and high debauchery. Handsome devil like that had little else in store, on a Friday night. The tavern certainly wasn't much of an attraction.
It was called Mekong, named after the owner, named after the song. Liore Bloodwing decided one night to try and find some insights at the bottom of a bottle, and had come stomping into the mist-clad tavern nestled into the western mountainside scything through the Jade Forest, brimming with broodiness. He'd whittled away a few hours, chatting aimlessly with Mekong himself; turned out the old red Panda was ex-Shado Pan, living out his dream off a handsome pension. Only, his people were too preoccupied with beer to really develop a taste for hard liquor, fine wines.
When the mist fell, import and export exploded. But old Mekong couldn't drum up enough customers to keep the creaky tavern operational. Thats when half-drunk Lio decided to buy the place.
Now it functioned as an unoffical hangout for his guild that was not a guild at all. The Guttersnipes who could behave enough to be tolerated in public would roll in time and again, off-duty Shado-Pan with good taste, or travel-weary adventurers running errands through the Forest; all with coin and story could find a spot by the fire, to catch breath or lose it to the potent alcohol.
Old Mekong rumbled down the bar, turning that eternal mug with that eternal rag. He never actually offered that mug to anyone. Liore was beginning to suspect there was a tale behind it, but for all their comraderie, he couldn't quite coax it out of him. This is where his mind wandered to, as the bottle of bourbon sank and sank, and the cold ache in his heart dulled and dulled.
This job for Devynn was so sure and uncomplex a task, he dwelt upon it no longer. At about half-past, some dark-clad Forsaken blew in, shared a couple of curt words. Saluted, then breezed on out, leaving behind a cold, deadly wind.
Yes. A message was in order.
The long-dead parts of Liore Bloodwing that knew pity spared some for Commander Adain. Hell hath no fury like a woman what survived a failed assassination attempt. Ask me how I know.
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