World of Warcraft®

A few fliers have been posted in Undercity, Silvermoon City, and Orgrimmar.

WANTED: PERSONAL ASSISTANT

Males, Tauren, Orcs, and Trolls need not apply.

Previous experience is preferred but not necessary.

Requirements:
Must be willing to work long hours.
Must be ethically flexible.
Politeness is a must.
Enjoyment of tea is preferred.

Duties will include assisting organizing events, menial chores, arranging appointments, companionship, and more. Send a letter to Lady Thelinna Que'sheth for more information.

((Right, so, before I left the game a while back, Thelly did actually have a personal assistant. Since that person is no longer playing and has moved on, her search for a new one is beginning. ;) ))

Cjarsa eyes the announcement, perking a rotted brow at the requirements. She muttered something under her breath. Perhaps she'd look further into it. She needed something to do to keep her mind busy.

The gnome staggered into Gondorin's quarters. They were in a state of upheaval with the upcoming move to Rage Fang Shrine in Grizzly Hills, but Gondorin's desk remained neat and orderly (As a soldier's should, Gondorin thought with pride) nonetheless.

The gnome's eyes were watery and pink, and droplets of quickly-congealing blood dripped from a wound in the gnome's side. Gondorin eyed the wound dispassionately and said, "Don't worry, we'll have someone clean it up. You should get that looked at, though."

The gnome nodded, grinning through the pain. "Got knicked by one of their abominations' blades on the way out. For being so big, those things are amazingly astute at seeing hidden things." The gnome coughed, spewing up a small glob of blood and phlegm. Gondorin's upper lip curled in mild discomfort. "Here, take a look at this." The gnome placed a piece of paper on Gondorin's desk. "You know," the gnome added as an afterthought, "I think the Banshee Queen's commanders may be coating those abominations' weapons with her new plague..."

Gondorin looked closely at the gnome for a moment, then said, "Probably for 'accidental' knicks on the orcs Thrall put in Undercity after the Wrath Gate debacle. You're going to die if she is. This invokes the optional portions of your contract with the Reclamation. Do you want to be buried, or shipped to Acherus to continue being of use to the Alliance?"

The gnome considered, coughing again. "It might be interesting... how painful are Acherus' processes?"

"Very," Gondorin replied evenly. "You're aware during the whole time, and Highlord Mograine's never been a fan of painkillers."

"Ah," the gnome replied, contemplating. He pointed at the paper as he sat down roughly, whatever poison coursing through his veins starting to take full effect. "There's rumors that one is part of, you know... them."

"Indeed?" Gondorin asked, suddenly more interested. "I might convince Highlord Mograine to use painkillers for you if you'd be willing to undertake another mission for us..."

The gnome's face pinched in pain as a spasm ran through his small frame. "Standard rates?"

"Of course," Gondorin replied. He reached over to a glowing stone near the corner of his desk, a swirling rune on it. He rubbed it, and a gigantic gate appeared, swirling with dark energy. "Step through. Tell them I sent you. I have things needing doing. Come see me when they're done with you."

((Let me know if this is unwanted, Thelinna, and I can delete it. :) ))

((Nope, that's fine! :) ))

Thelinna looked over the few letters she had received since initially putting out her wanted ad. It seemed that most in the Horde did not bother to fully read what she wanted. Aziel would not allow her to have a male assistant, which she did not mind. Modas was seemingly more and more dominated by men, so having a female assistant might restore some semblance of sanity. She sat in irritation, looking over the letters. “Troll... Male... Oh my. No, that is completely unacceptable. Not after attempting to have tea with Dreejin,” she murmured, thinking over the occurrence. Spitting her tea out all over the table, and then telling her how she should try some of his blood soup.

The undead elf frowned deeply as she continued to ponder over what course of action she would take next.

Thelinna, atop of her skeletal horse, eyed a seemingly lost Blood Elf female as she wandered around. She frowned slightly. Most of the Sin’dorei who roamed the Undercity did not seem to get lost quite so easily, but it was bound to happen from time to time. The girl was muttering to herself, and Thelinna called out. “You seem to be lost, dear,” she called out, watching the girl for a moment.

The girl looked at her in confusion for a moment, before giving a slight nod. “Uh, yes, Miss. I am looking for the job board, but none of the guards here seem to be willing or able to give directions to it.”

“The job board? Mmm, the Orc brutes posted here do not even like to offer directions to those who are from the area, so I am not surprised.” Thelinna answered, continuing to engage the other in conversation. Her yellow eyes looked her over for a moment, many thoughts of possibilities coming to her mind. The first instinct she had was to collect the woman and bring her back to Lord Aziel, since she did appear to be to his tastes, but something caught her attention as she realized the sort of work the woman was looking for.

“Research, you say? Hmh, I have been seeking an assistant. I do research,” Thelinna murmured, pondering out loud.

“What sort of research is it you do, Miss-?”

“Lady Thelinna Que’sheth. What was your name?” Thelinna answered, eying the girl.

“Lady…” Thelinna watched as the woman paused to think of her name. She shifted her weight in the seat of her saddle. It seemed odd that the young woman was taking such time to produce her name. She was about to speak up again when the girl finally spoke.

“Geniven Lightfire,” Geniven said, finally. “As for your research? Is it the kind you can speak of, or the kind that you do not speak of?”

Thelinna veiled a slight threat with a smile. “It is the sort that most should keep their nose out of, yes.”

“Well, then I shall keep my nose out of it,” Geniven answered.

“Very good. Now then, I suppose I shall show you where the job board is.” Thelinna spoke, turning her heel into her skeletal horse, beginning to lead the way. As she led on, she made idle conversation, finding out about the girl. No family, no friends, new to the city from the Outlands. Thelinna did not show it, but she had some suspicions about it. Of course, it was in her very nature to be suspicious of outsiders. It was not always easy to tell friend from foe, not as long as she had been Aziel’s consort or a member of Modas il Toralar. “Here we are, my dear,” she said sweetly, as she finally reached the job board.

“Oh, I must have passed this twice! And this Orc did not even tell me it was here when I asked him for directions!” Geniven exclaimed, moving closer to the board as she began to look over postings.

Thelinna watched her as she did so, keeping an eye on the listings the woman took. Geniven continued to speak, and she listened and responded as proper manners would dictate while she watched. Then, she watched as she grabbed several listings, moving closer as she spotted her own being taken from the board. “An assistant? And what else is there?”

“A librarian,” Geniven answered, looking between the two listings. The Sin’dorei then looked up to Thelinna, her eyes widening a bit. “Oh, my lady. Pardon me! This is your listing, isn’t it?”
Thelinna nodded, as the two began to speak more of her job opening as her personal assistant. While any other woman who would appear to be as humorous and as intriguing as this one presented herself would be more than welcome, the undead elf had her suspicions. But when she was asked about a letter being sent to her, Thelinna offered her most sincere smile. “Yes, yes. You may send me a letter. I do look forward to seeing it,” she murmured. “But for now, I must be off, my dear.” Thelinna said, turning her horse around and moving away from the Blood Elf, pondering over the encounter.

-=-

The next day, as Thelinna sat having tea, she pondered over the encounter with Geniven. Her thoughts were disrupted when she caught sight of Lord V’Ghera. She offered him a smile. “Good afternoon, my dear,” she said sweetly, placing her tea down as she watched him extend a bow to her. “I was wondering, if you could spare a moment, I had something I wished to discuss with you.”

“Yes, of course,” Aziel answered.

“You see, last night I had the strangest encounter with a woman I am not sure was being entirely honest with me,” Thelinna started, watching Aziel intently as she spoke.

“Language is meant to disguise one’s intentions, not to reveal,” he responded.

“Indeed,” she said, continuing her story. “At first, I thought to bring her to you, since she was alone, but the more I spoke with her, the odder she seemed. Looking for work. Lost. She even seemed to hesitate- or forget- her name when we properly introduced ourselves to one another. It was very suspicious.”

“Suspicious, yes. We have many enemies who would like to infiltrate our numbers, to find out what it is we are planning.” Aziel commented.

“As I suspected. I gave her permission to write me a letter. I will allow her to interview for the position of my assistant, my lord.”

Aziel gave a nod in approval. “Yes, my dear. Make a slave of her.”

Thelinna cleared her throat. “...I intend to offer her tea at the interview. After I have a hold of her, I will find out who it is who sent her.”

Aziel gave another nod of approval. “Yes, do this, then.”

Thelinna smiled sweetly, picking up her cup of tea and taking a sip from it. She savored the taste for a moment, before looking back to Aziel. “As you wish, my Lord.”

((Very cool. I'm really curious to see what happens next!))

Geniven groaned in dismay as she rolled up the parchment letter, slumped against the mailbox, and slid down its side to sit in the gravel. Thelinna had responded to her letter of application after all, indicating that Geniven should meet with her the following evening for an interview in Murder Row. And what was it the Magister had said about Murder Row? Right … avoid it at all costs.

She drew a knee up and rested her arm over it, letting her eyes drift closed. For the life of her, she couldn't remember what reason she'd given herself early yesterday morning to go wandering into Undercity alone. It had been much too soon, and in her ignorance, it only took one wrong turn to find herself hopelessly lost. She hadn't been too alarmed; the population was scarce and the guards, for the most part (orc and Forsaken alike) had merely regarded her with mild disdain.

But, she had known instinctively she was in trouble the instant that too-perfect blood elf had introduced herself as Lady Thelinna Que'sheth. The burst of black hatred exploded inside of Geniven with such force, she barely heard herself hissing back the word, “Lady ...” or that Thelinna had asked for her name. Her spine went rigid and she tucked her chin. Did her eyes scream, “I will kill you, slaver wench!” as loud as it was echoing inside her head? She felt her hand flex, aching for the shaft of her beloved mining pick within its grasp.

The rage roiled inside her and she might have launched herself, teeth bared, at Thelinna right then. But there were voices in her head, whispering with reason:

“See things as they are …”

“Who suffers most when you surrender to the rage?”

Geniven had checked that berserker tide instantly, but only barely. She raised a brow and glanced around blandly, outwardly seeming dismayed with her current plight, then gave Thelinna her practiced name. She flicked one long, elven ear and surveyed her surroundings. The two orcs may or may not have intervened. Thelinna may or may not have been alone. That HAD been her goal in coming here – to seek out and observe, to learn habits that for now were relatively unknown. Yet, seeing things as they were … Geniven understood that attacking would mean certain death. In another world, at another time, she'd have been okay with that. She'd have taken enough of that wretched elf with her that she wouldn't soon be forgotten.

“Promise me you'll come home ...”

***

Geniven jerked her head up, smacking a too-long ear tip across the mailbox. It caused considerable pain and she huffed dismally, returning fully to the present. She'd spent the night huddled in a haystack just inside the stables of her father's home, the shadows taking on a distinct shape and watching over her protectively. Likely it was good her guardian had found her, otherwise, her father wouldn't have hesitated to kill her if he caught her in this condition.

She pushed herself off the ground and dusted her hands together. Earlier, she had confessed her mistakes to the Magister, and although he hadn't shown any disdain, he gravely pointed out that they could not continue with her training. It would be much too risky now. She'd looked upon the Archmagus with shame and guilt when he arrived to hear this explained.

“I agree with the Magister's assessment, but look to the future. All is not lost – you've learned much in your few days here.” He was not without his kindnesses. Geniven gave him a small smile and requested they send for her commander. He nodded. She'd grown oddly fond of him – of all of them – in just a few short days. And he was right, she considered as her hand slipped to the parchment at her waist.

Tomorrow evening. Murder Row. Thelinna would be waiting ...

(Posting here for continuity)

Fel...everything hurt even his hair. Can hair hurt? Well...if not it was news to him right about now. The plan had been simple if anything ever could be that when dealing with Modas. They would go in and find Thelinna where the meeting with the elf was destined to take place only instead of the elf the Modasai would find herself meeting daggers. Well...that was the plan at least, what took place was vastly different.

-

Shifting nervously Kord glanced up at every little sound checking for Harmarth's location. The worgen was prowling around uneasily and perhaps a little too eagerly at the prospect of a Modas hunt. A voice breaking the silence nearly caused the rogue to jump out of his skin before he realized it was Harm whispering to him. Aziel was here as well...

That didn't bode well for the successful outcome at all.

Turning to the worgen beside him Kord mumbled softly "Where?"

The reply came a bit uneasily but still with the hint of eagerness "Saw them walk past with each other, not sure where they went"

Nodding softly Kord moved down the alleyway heading for the inn "I'll check inside...?"

Harmarth nodded and moved to check the opposite direction halting and returning to the inn at Kord's hissed whisper over the stone "Fel, Found her...I don't see him?"

The two rogues sat watching her for what seemed forever, Kord with a look of distrust and discomfort and Harmarth with one bordering on almost feral intensity. Finally the silence was broken as the young human murmured into his stone "I don't like it...we should go." After a pause though he added almost reluctantly "but I don't know if we would ever get this chance again."

The worgen simply growled softly before moving closer and finally murmuring "It'll show the Modas they aren’t safe...not even here. I'm going for it."

Grimacing Kord nodded and pulled his daggers "Fine...I will back you up."

In retrospect backing up the bloodthirsty Modas hating worgen wasn't his brightest move. What followed next happened almost faster then he could follow, the usual guards alerted by their presence swarmed in. Those he could deal with...it was the elf he could not, Aziel had been upstairs then down them came an Elvin warlock flinging felfire and curses. Kord lasted a bit longer then the worgen but the effect was the same, using the last vestiges of consciousness he attempted to lunge only to be caught from behind by a guard and sent to the blackness of unconsciousness.

Unfortunately...or perhaps thankfully...it didn't last long. Slowly the world flickered back into focus enough for him to notice Jon being drug towards a portal, where he didn't get to see as he was being drug off by guards to light only knows what. Thinking back he wasn't quite sure why they just didn't kill him but he supposed best to just count his blessings and be done with it.

You always hear how opulent the elves lives are down to the finest detail, Kord was amused to note this even extended to their jails. Like any sane rogue he had managed to conceal a lock pick away in the seam of his pants to where it would not be found even after they confiscated his gear leaving him in nothing but a shirt and pants. The old dragon had since taken off to warn the others of what was happening leaving him to his own devices, which was fine except for one small detail, moving -HURT-. After a few minutes and much hem-hawing he finally stood up and moved to the bars to attempt to see if there were any guards and then if not to see where the catch was.

Magic...it's always magic. Picking himself up the rogue regarded the bars now glowing from the magic that had just thrown him across the room. Gathering a small stone he tossed it and immediately ducked as it was thrown back at him with more force then initially applied...interesting! Sitting down again in the center of the room he spared an absent glance at an elf walking by pausing only to sneer at the human before returning to his patrols.

Turning to a more immediate predicament Kord regarded the manacles encircling his wrists and gritted his teeth, first things first. By the time his wrist was free he was trembling from the pain and had sweat beading on his brow. but at least he was free. Turning back to the gate he started gathering various bits and pieces of anything and everything at hand. It was a long shot but if he could overload the barrier he might be able to pick the lock and escape before the guards realized what was happening.

For once that night something went according to plan, a few more minutes saw him out the door and heading for freedom hindered only by the sneering guard and an unfortunate meeting with a mace to the ribs. As he exited the city and made for the rendezvous point a few points gnawed at his mind, first and foremost being...how do they get Harm back?

03/07/2012 12:28 AMPosted by Kordrion

Like any sane rogue he had managed to conceal a lock pick away to where it would not be found even after they confiscated his gear leaving him in nothing but a shirt and pants.

(( Oh my ))

(Oi! you with the dirty mind...outa the gutter!)

((@Dreejin and Kordrion, on that note, I'm reminded of a scene from Pulp Fiction, involving Christopher Walken and a watch...xD))

((And yet ... no handcuff jokes. Tsk.))

03/07/2012 05:11 AMPosted by Drakehide

((@Dreejin and Kordrion, on that note, I'm reminded of a scene from Pulp Fiction, involving Christopher Walken and a watch...xD))

((We keep them sewn under skin.

Or at least I do...the last time I was caught, they checked every hiding place thoroughly....
Very....very..thoroughly....

*Shudders*))

Abon picked up the flier laying on the walk in Undercity. She had returned to visit her lost love in the laboratory, but he was no longer there. Maybe a new job would take her mind off her broken heart.

She loved tea and she was very polite and flexible. She did yoga every morning.

The lady didn't mention no gnomes, but Abon had heard rumors some people didn't like gnomes.

((Have to admit, the lock pick thing caught my attention first, too. >.>))

(*Affords everyone dirty looks* there! sheesh lol