Box o' Tales Entry #3

"Taste not flight if you've no intention to live on the breeze."

"But I did not ask of flight!"

Silly mortal traveler. Did he not now how fairies spoke in riddles? Shajiri giggled and faded into a pale shadow. Contrary to what she expected, however, he left for the village. There were strange sounds in the village. She would not go there. To spite him for leaving, she made it rain.

Go ahead and abandon the fairy, she thought sulkily. Believe I don't exist and return to your noise! Enjoy getting soaked on the way!

Shajiri felt the water droplets as they trickled down her long spider's silk-like hair and shivered. It kept falling, running down her hair and plopping onto her wings.

Box o' Tales #2

Torri could hear voices behind her, but she did not turn. She was tall and her skin pale, reflecting the moonlight, but if they saw her from behind their sight was better than she thought. Her sleek hair fell down to her waist and was as crow-dark as the night. It veiled her neck and hid her hands and shoulders, which would have otherwise announced her presence. Her skirt, although short in the front, draped to the ground in the back specifically to help her do what she did now: press herself face forward into a corner in hopes that she wouldn't be seen. In the darkness of this alley, Torri should have been invisible...And yet, she heard footsteps come her way.

"There"

"Clever."

The second voice was deep and slightly hoarse. Torri should have recognized it, but she was not given the time. A hand clasped her shoulder, flipped her around, then closed around her neck. She clawed at the arm, smelled blood, was not released.

"Who are you?" she rasped. "What-"

She screamed as something cut its way through her left lung and into the wall behind her. She clawed at the arm again, this time deeper and more desperately, still to no avail. But then an idea struck. Torri punched the elbow hard enough to hear bone crack, then peeled the man's fingers off her nexk and bolted at full speed. Something shot into her side as she ran and flashed a bright light once, but she kept going. The wound would heal later. For now she only had to get away.

Torri didn't hear them follow her. Still, they might have been close behind. She chose a harder path: the rooftops. Following buildings rather than roads took her to her hotel in a matter of minutes. She slipped into a friend's room rather than her own - she didn't want to be alone after an attack like that - and was instantly met with surprised greeting.

"Torri! What happened to you?"

"I'm fine," she said, but coughed up blood. "Could you," cough, "get me a phone?"

Her friend left. Torri pulled the metal spike from her lung, coughed a few more times, and stopped. She then pulled the strange sickle-shaped device out of her side so the wound could heal. By the time her friend came back with a cell phone, Torri's injuries had healed completely.

"Thanks Kirri."

"Welcome."

Torri began to dial, but stopped when she saw a fight scene on TV.

"What are you watching?"

"Blade. Why?"

"No reason," she responded, and continued dialing.

The phone rang. No answer. Rang again.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Alexandre."

"Torri? I thought you were out hunting."

"Was. Someone attacked me."

"What? who?"

"I don't know. He was strong. Vampire strong, but definitely not one of us."

"Odd. I'll put the word out."

"Thanks."

On the other line, Alexandre fidgeted with two ivory strands of hair. He heard Torri hang up and tried to contact Elisabeth and Edmond, the other two who were still outside. Neither answered. It wasn't surprising. They had probably left their phones in their room at the hotel. Alexandre sighed and put his phone back into his pocket. As he was about to leave, a pale figure came into view in front of him.

All That Glitters, Part 2

Fellenn stood over the mailbox in front of the Darnassus bank, a letter in one hand, and an envelope in the other. Some sense of reason had forced her to ask where her cousin might be before running off after her into dangerous country. Hopefully this letter would give her the answers she needed.

"To Any and All,

I am looking for information about a druid by the name of Elletaris Stormsong. She is tall, even for a Night Elf, and has pale violet skin, white eyes, and long white hair. She travels on a striped frostsaber who will answer to "Aya," and possibly with a wintersaber named Aja. She was last known to be in Everlook, heading north.

     Send replies to Fellenn Stormsong in Darnassus. Any information will be rewarded."

Fellenn sighed and read over the letter again. There was no chance it would even arrive in Everlook quickly enough to satisfy her - Elle's disappearance had whittled her patience down to nothing - but short of throwing the messenger through a mage portal, there was nothing to be done for it. There were also no mages currently in Darnassus. She'd looked. Fellenn folded the paper and stuffed it back in the envelope, audibly cursing the length of time it took for anyone to travel. She nearly put it in the mailbox, but an odd sound at her elbow stopped her. She looked down to see a female Gnome clearing her throat.

"I can get that where you want it faster than any messenger."

Fellenn raised an eyebrow. "For a price, I imagine."

"Naturally. Business is business. That's Everlook written on the envelope, right? That'd only be two gold."

"Two gold? How fast?"

"A week and a half, two at the most." She smiled. "I have connections your simple mailman could never dream of."

It was immensely faster than Fellenn had dared to hope, and cheaper than anyone else that fast would charge. It could be a scam, but it was only two gold and she could easily write another letter...

Fellenn fished the payment out of her pocket and handed both the coin and the envelope to the Gnome, whose smile widened as she looked up with greed sparkling in her eyes.

"Nanell Oddspark, by the way. You won't regret it."

All That Glitters

A white flash, then cold, black nothingness. Something told her not to breathe. Elletaris opened her eyes and screamed, allowing precious air to escape. The black turned blue, the nothing to water, and panic crept over her as she noticed the sheet of ice above her head. She looked around herself frantically for a means of escape, but wherever she had fallen through, the hole had frozen over.

She tried to move roots to break the ice, but none were near enough. She struck at the barrier with numb hands and elbows, but to no avail. The water and cold dampened her strength. Perhaps if she had - no, she did have - her staff. Elletaris pulled her weapon from the leather strap that held it to her back and used its tapered end to batter the ice.

Her vision blurred, reminding her how little air she had left. She hit at the ice harder, then harder again as it began to crack. The force of the blows loosed the staff from her hands and sent it careening downward. She dove after it, thanking Elune for the somewhat shallow water here. She could already see the lake bottom and the staff not quite so far below. She closed her hand around it and prepared to ascend, but something else caught her eye: a warm, golden light emanating from a small gem just beneath her. She swam further downward and grabbed it before returning to her efforts to break free.

To Elle's surprise and relief, the ice shattered faster than before. Within moments, she had an opening. She pulled herself through it, gasping, then screaming as she inhaled the freezing air. She shivered violently and scanned her surroundings. Her sabers must be somewhere near. She called to both and neither answered. She called again with the same result and cursed. Where were they? For that matter, where was she? The only lake in Winterspring this size was Kel'Theril, but she barely remembered leaving Frostsaber Rock.

Wind toyed with limp locks of Elletaris' hair. It dusted her with snow in increasing amounts and promised more. There would be a storm soon. She needed to find shelter, somewhere. There was a group of trees not far off the ice. Too frozen to stand, she crawled toward it.

By the time she found a decent shelter, a large tree with a somewhat hollow base, she could feel nothing. Her staff would not fit inside. With some effort, she pried it from her hand and drove it vertically into the ground, where it would hopefully indicate that someone was here.

She hurried into the tree and covered the entrance with roots and a layer of bark to shield her from the wind. She removed her heavy, ice-soaked furs for fear of hypothermia and used the last of her energy to take the form of a cat with her own fur before finally allowing herself to rest. She curled against the far side of the tree in anticipation of unconscious peace, but the glow of that honey-colored gem, still frozen to one of her gloves, would not let her sleep.

---

This is a storyline for two of my characters on World of Warcraft. I'm going to continue it, but I figured I'd post it here just because.

Box o' Tales Entry #1

They say that if you want to know what a person does, you look at their hands; if you want to know where they've been, look at their face; if you want to know what they're thinking, look at their body; but if you want to know who they are, you look at their eyes. Lucky for me, I seem to be lacking a few features.

"I'll give you to the count of three to get out of my bar."

The Rangers, in their all-too-obvious blue and white uniforms, didn't blink, but neither did Alysthir. One gun pointed at the two, and two phasers at the barkeep. Her customers wouldn't even have noticed if they too hadn't recognized the jumpsuits, and being the scum they were, every one of them did. It was an interesting stand-off. No one without a death wish threatened Alysthir, and no one sane pointed a gun at two armed Rangers.

"Three."

She blew a steaming hole in the head of the first, and the second made it halfway to the door, running, before a patron's knife impaled his neck. Alysthir walked to the second body, pulled a small purse of chips from his pocket, and pressed it to the chest of her new customer before walking away.

"Keep the change," she murmured. It was the only thanks he'd get. "Now, someone get rid of those two."

A bounty hunter from the nearest table to the first claimed them, much to the dismay of the rest of the full bar. Whoever got rid of Alysthir's kills got to keep what was on them, and whoever started a fight about it had to answer to the lovely barkeep herself. This pair had some nice weapons. That hunter walking out the door would be a very happy customer when he came back through.

A second patron brushed by him, heading in the opposite direction, but Alysthir was none too pleased to see him. Already back behind her counter, she pulled her gun on the fifth target of the night.

"Alysthir," he praised loudly, "the only woman feared in eight galaxies!"

He approached her and leaned over the counter as if he hadn't even seen the gun.

"Grevver," she spat. "The only piece of shit whose payment I won't take." She scowled. "What are you doing here?"

"Not trying to get a drink, if that's what you're wondering. And speaking of who's where, why exactly did I hear you were on Delta-9?"

She touched the barrel of the gun to his head. "The answer worth it?"

Grevver grinned. He always was an overconfident bastard.

"Had to shoot an old family friend."

"Way I heard it, you missed. Found your cripple wandering the Beta system."

Alysthir smirked. He thought she'd spare him so he'd show her where her target was.

"Do you know why I'm the only woman feared in eight galaxies, Grevver? I keep my word."

Down, went the fifth body of the night, followed by the usual scramble. Alysthir wiped the blood off her goggles and ordered to no one in particular, "Find me Simon Goldstein!"

--- --- ---

Reading over it, I don't think I could have made Aly any more violent, but I think it was inspired by a Halo book, so meh. Maybe I was thinking along the lines of Riddick meets city life or something. Less violent things to come. :)

Intro to the Scrapyard

As many people know, I happen to really like writing. I come up with amazing plots and characters, and go to town. The unfortunate side of this is that I have so many ideas that I have never actually finished a story, thusly none of them have actually been read by anyone but me. 

To solve this problem (and also clear out the cardboard box o' tales hiding out in my room), I have created this blog. The stories here will probably not have, nor will they probably ever have endings. Most likely they'll be little glimpses into the lives of characters I'll never use again. That explained, don't expect novels, or titles, or anything longer than a sheet of notebook paper for that matter.

Enjoy anyway.