World of Warcraft®

(As I said before, I'm sharing some roleplay stories from the past and present members leading up to Pia anniversary week. The following is one Nashelia came up with. It's led to some fascinating guild roleplay.)

It started with petty takings from the town of Hearthglen. Pamphlet about the church of light, or small papers about the history of the town or Lord Fordring and his son who died so near its gates. It was nothing the guards really cared about. The scribes took perhaps ten minutes to make the things and they disappear all the time. However it soon went to larger, more expensive books on the shelves of the inn, and worse, the homes of the towns residents. What made it stranger was the fact that after a few days the books would appear, right where they belonged, on the owners shelves. As if they had only been borrowed to be read and returned.

The unauthorised borrowing did not bother the guards so much as the breaking and entering. Afterall in a town full of law abiding people someone picking the locks on someones home to borrow a copy of the history of gnomeregan or a certain paladins book of bawdy poetry was disheatening. Then a worse thing happened. A few reports from the Argent Front in Northrend disappeared. Nothing to secret at first, but as time went on more and more confidental reports were being taken, and though returned it was the sort of thing that they did not want common knowledge amongst the populace.

Stricter and stricter locks were placed on things. Only to be carefully picked open, the books or reports taken, and relocked as if the thief was beiing polite and relocking the owners door. The books or reports being returned only when the owner was out for a moment, as one does have to eat or sleep on occasion.

Being rather annoyed at this the magistrate put up a notice in the inn and barracks of the city. They wanted to find this book thief, er, borrower and stop them from breaking into places they really did not need to be, not to mention find out what they knew about things best kept to a select few.

Meriste walked down the stairs and into the tower's common room, carrying a large, battered book in her arms. The armchairs were all empty and the halls unusually silent, but she didn't mind. Having the afternoon to herself was a rare occasion, and Meriste planned to spend it in the kitchen. She paused at the doorway and looked inside.

Normally, the kitchen was full of activity. Meals were made all throughout the day and night to accommodate unusual schedules; many guards packed a lunch and took it on the road. Today, however, the room was empty. Meriste placed the book on the counter and opened it, fingering through the delicate pages gently.

The book was more valuable to Meriste than anyone could imagine. It was hundreds of years old at least, bound with the leather of a species she did not recognize. It was a cookbook, pages filled with recipes both familiar and foreign. Some of the recipes, written in her father's hand, listed ingredients that she had never heard of. With each place she visited, new pages were added to the old. Stories were written in the margins. Dusty traces of exotic spices and accidental stains told stories of their own; this was a working cookbook, one that had seen many kitchens. The book, in a way, was the story of Meriste's life. Each page had the hidden power to hold memory, to capture moments of time, of which there were many.

She paused at the recipe for spice bread and smiled. It was a simple recipe, but one that had become a favorite among her fellow guards. Leaving the book open on the counter, Meriste searched the cabinets for ingredients and started to work.

About an hour later, the smell of fresh spice bread permeated the common room. Meriste rose from the armchair and picked up her glass of tea, then walked into the kitchen to see to the bread. For a moment, she stood at the doorway in startled silence, heart pounding in her ears. It was impossible; she was the only one here. Surely she would've noticed. Surely She'ahu would've heard someone entering and leaving.

Nevertheless, the book was gone.

She had looked at and memorised a great many of the books these rather religious people had. Some were rather pointless propaganda about their faith, some were actually useful having knowledge to them on history or math or in the most recent case cooking. The person had been so absorbed in her memories, or job in cooking that she had not payed attention when the book was taken. Usually only mages were this this absent minded when absorbed in something.

She stood to the one side of the stables in Herthglen. Her dark leathers helping her blend in a bit better to what little shadows there were there. To all observers idly leafing through the book. She was however comiting to memory each page as she turned it.

She knew that such creatures had to eat. The point in overcomlicateing the process was a mystery to her however. Why not simply just eat the items one mixed together? It was less effort afterall for the same effect. Why did they take in so much that was overall bad for their systems? The local drunk or two at the tavern made even less sense. As they intended to destroy their systems.

Perhaps she would make an item or two from this book for the creature she got it from when she returned it.

Meriste stood with her back against the common room wall, half-listening to the idle chatter of the other guards. Her mind, however, was on her missing cookbook.

She asked everyone that she encountered if they had seen her cookbook, but no one knew where it might have gone. Even more disconcerting was the fact that several other things had gone missing within the span of a few days. Sepha's letters from Commander Turncutt, Sara's journal, a number of books from the library on the history of the Holy Guard...articles both personal and public had simply disappeared, regardless of lock and key. Reports were coming in about similar incidents occurring throughout Hearthglen. All of the missing items had been books, and all of the books were returned to their proper places within a few days. The locks had even been restored. It was...strange, to say the least.

It bothered her that someone had so easily slipped in unnoticed, and she scolded herself for it repeatedly. She knew better than to let herself get so distracted with a task, especially when she was alone. The book thief was cunning and clever for sure, but Meriste had a few tricks of her own. She was determined to find out who was responsible for the thefts...and why.

A loud slamming noise coming from Taelanas' office interrupted her thoughts.

"Where is my stationery set?!"

Our book thief strikes again, it seems. Or...Taelanas just needs to clean up that horribly messy desk of his. Meriste grinned, thinking of the piles of papers stacked everywhere, and struggled to hold back a laugh. She didn't envy at all all the paperwork he had to do.

A couple days after she had borrowed it while the creature was out Dsute replaced the cookbook. Beside it was a plate of small cakes that were cooked to just perfection. She glanced about the tower. There was not to much more for her left. She would have to go south to the capitol of the humans. Perhaps she would visit the explorers league in Ironforge. They had all kinds of things to learn about. She tilted her head. Her sharp hearing catching the sound of footsteps on the floor. With one smooth movement she put one hand on the the edge of the window, using the supporting stones of the tower quickly shut it. Seeing all was how she had found it she dropped to the ground below.

Unfortuneatly she nearly landed right on top of a man in full armor. They stood stood there for a moment. He blinking, her just watching him through the eyeslash in her hood. Recovering from the shock of nearly hitting the person in a couple of moments she took a small item from inside one of her gloves and threw it at his feet. Instantly a cloud of acrid smoke billowed up from the broken item as she attempted to use the smoke screen to dart around the man.

As Sara entered her room, she noticed things were a bit mixed up. Nothing seemed to be in it's proper place! A quick glance over all of her things told her what she need to know: her journal was missing. It was pretty obvious: the thin book covered in small fake diamonds that she had found while mining was gone. It's shininess was no where to be seen. Sara felt a small panic. If anyone found out what was in the journal...

Gentyl walked downstairs and looked around the great room. It seemed like a foolish question, but she asked anyway. "Has anyone seen my letters from the Commander? They were tied in a blue ribbon." Everyone shook their heads. She kept them in a small ivory box he'd brought home from one of his journeys. There was no way she'd just misplaced them.