Friday Fiction
A tradition I started over here continues on WTT:RP.
If you have any stories under 1,024 characters, please share them!
A Month Ago
Technically, this was treason. A quick letter to a Forsaken, even to coordinate the capture of the most dangerous creature since the Bloody Prince ascended his frozen throne, was punishable by death. Bricu chuckled at the thought. Just another obstacle as he worked to keep his friends and family safe from a former life.
Stonemantle: We’ve found him. He’s hired us to clear his name. He’s talked to a number of us–except me–and even Darrows has evidence of him. You will know more when I know more.
Bricu placed the quill in the inkwell while he thought of how to end the letter.
Cheers, BB
As he read it over, he knew it was lacking something. He owed her a more than a note about his nephew. Davien answered a question that Bricu and Threnn would have to wait months to know the answer to. She deserved more than a cursory note.
ps. Her name is Naiara.
Bricu sealed his letter with wax, and enclosed it with his rent to the Legerdemain Lounge. If the Crown wanted to charge him with treason, then the Crown could go after Uthas by itself.
Filed in Alliance,Fiction,Forsaken,Human,RP 3 Comments so far
jezebelxiii on 27 Mar 2009 at 2:59 pm #
Blood glued her hair to her scalp. It clumped her eyelashes together. Meat stuck to her robes, her hands. Her skin was tacky with it.
In the darkness of her bedroom, she peeled her clothes off. They were so heavy, all saturated and wicked. A bucket filled with water, the fine fabrics submerged. She peered at her reflection in the wall glass. Blood had dribbled down her collar, rivers of it slicking her arms, over the curve of her breasts and stomach.
Tricky witch never wears white. The stains. Oh the stains.
Her laugh was wind chimes and tinkling happiness.
Silly Cattania. Look at what you’ve wrought. The rush of the river, the lark that sings.
She inserted a blood smeared finger into her mouth. Her tongue worked under the nail to dislodge something thick and strange, and she spit it into the hearth. A swell of magic and a fire hissed to life.
She moaned.
She wanted to lick the blood off. No, never with the nether spawn. Not even my sweet Jhoryla. Jak darling Jak. Come home and let me love you.
Thyrion on 05 May 2009 at 9:26 am #
The wind screamed through the branches as the loan figure leant out over the whipping sea below.
Despite the magic shrouding his home, Teldrassil always allowed more than a little of the sea winds through, especially in the higher branches that crowned the mighty home of the Night Elves.
Thyrion always came back here, his home, to rest, relax and attune himself back to nature. His endeavours always brought him close to corruption, temptation and to death. This place was where he recovered. He felt sullied by his last battle, poisoned by the roiling smoke and plumes of sulphur the spewed from the Molten Core.
He had felled burning giants and creatures not of this world. He had burned his claws on the ancient and immortal incarnation of fire, Sulphuras. He had breathed in the smoke, the hate and the rage that burned through its molten veins, and always he had shied from the glory that greeted their achievements, allowing his presence to remain anonymous to all but his companions and his superiors.
He was a solitary creature, forced to participate in battles alongside a chosen few of his peers, be they Druid or Hunter, Night Elf or Dwarf. He enjoyed the company, the comradeship of those times, but solitude was his escape. It balanced him, never allowing that easy slip into temptation. Some drank, some sang, some drew and others fornicated to rid themselves of the taint of evil that so quickly grew into a seed… Thyrion immersed himself in nature; in the cool breeze of the sea, in the deep greens and long shadows of the forests and of the simple innocence and beauty of his fellow creatures.
Waiting for the next time his skills would be used Thyrion cleared his mind, the beasts that shared his body quelled and silenced in this place of peace. He had to be prepared.
Bricu on 06 May 2009 at 10:29 am #
Well done!