Objective: Write small stories written around a single word.
Theme: World of Warcraft
Stories 18-25
18. Foot
"You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."
Eledaine Fe'dananlen didn't bother turning around.
"I could write the most heartwarming of songs if only you'd be my muse."
She kept walking, the polished polearm strapped to her back usually incentive enough to leave her be. But this was Goldshire after all.
"I pledge myself to be your devoted servant! Please, miss, I must know your name."
Tilting her head she slowed her stride and faced him with bemusement, tapping her foot as she waited for him to catch up to her. The shabbily dressed human scurried forth and bowed deeply, his face flushed with passion.
"What need have I for a servant?" Her voice dropped to a silken purr. Noting the eager light in his eyes a feral grin played over her parted lips. The huntress closed the distance between them, their bodies nearly touching. Sliding a pink tongue over wet lips, the smirk regained hold of her features. Her breath was hot and enticing against his cheek and it was all he could manage to stay still, hands clenched to his sides. "What need have I for anything I cannot take on my own?"
He gulped audibly, doing nothing to hide the perspiration on his brow.
"But I do so honor your pledge, human." When she drew back his pained sigh of longing revealed all too well his desires. "I will hold you to your vows and make you regret offering yourself so hastily."
He regarded the night elf with such undisguised yearning, oblivious to the menace her words implied.
19. Grave
The caretaker of the modest cemetary in Elwynn Forest leaned against his shovel briefly, letting the sweat drip into his eyes before swiping a dusty rag over his face. Many years he had toiled this earth, coaxed heaps of dirt into neat piles. It was penance that drew him here in the first place. Staring over the long rows of burial mounds, many which he had dug personally, Atonis Reyner chided himself for reminscing like an old woman.
"Excuse me, sir, would you have happened to see anyone here?"
Catching him in his reverie, he scowled and sounded more gruff than he truly felt. "Look around you. You're seeing the same folk I am."
She blushed faintly and his face froze. Taking his less than cordial demeanor for annoyance at her for disrupting his work, the paladin tried again. "I'm to meet with someone, sir, and only hoped you might have seen someone waiting around." When he continued to do nothing but stare, Cylus added, "Forgive my intrusion. Should you see someone however, I would be most appreciative if you sent word to me. I'll be at the Lion's Pride for a few hours."
It seemed she stood there a long while waiting for a response. When none seemed forthcoming, Cylus Corwyn frowned, turning to leave. The oddly disjointed voice stopped her in her tracks.
"You... you look like your mother so much."
"You knew her, sir?"
"I did. And you as well, Cylus. Do you not remember me?"
Smiling apologetically, she shook her head. The old man hunched his weary shoulders and shrugged. "Of course not. You were a child and it was so long ago."
Now it was Cylus' turn to look startled. Something about the way he spoke, or perhaps it was the sad sad smile, but something in her heart leapt with recognition. "Sir Reyner... "
He flicked his hand quickly, dismissively at his former title. "Only a ditchdigger now. And you never called me such. I believe you addressed me as 'Uncle-sir'." Atonis chuckled with embarrassment, the shock wearing off from seeing the younger version of the woman he once loved. "I expected you to be here days ago."
The admonishment fell on deaf ears as Cylus embraced him suddenly. Closing her eyes against the tide of tears she murmured, "Forgive me for not recognizing you sooner, Uncle."
"You weren't supposed to, child." He stroked her hair with trembling fingers overcome with great emotion. "Come, let us sit near Juli's grave and talk. There is much to discuss, you and I."
20. Green
Tight and snug, the light green corset accentuated her curves and drew attention to her moonlight pale skin. Paired with black leggings and boots that molded to her muscled calves, Eledaine meandered through the cobbled streets of Stormwind until at last she arrived at the bridge between the Mage and Park districts.
He was already there, pleading with a woman she had never seen. Hearing soft footfalls at his back, the lavender-haired elf whirled quickly about, hands on the hilts of his blades. Upon seeing only Eledaine he relaxed. "I ah... would be honored to introduce Eledaine Fe'dananlen, beloved. The childhood friend I spoke of."
The huntress was spared only a cursory glance and a curt nod.
Already Ele was intrigued. "He has spoken much of you as well. And you have my congratulations on the upcoming wedding." Eledaine caught the dirty look the woman gave her friend.
"Twice he has thrown his life away for petty reasons and now he wishes to make it a third. I'll not be mated to a man who does not wish to live."
"But I must do this, beloved. Only when I am done can my mind be at peace."
Tossing her head, Ele noted with some disdain that her friend was reduced to begging. She had stomached the long-winded protestations of this other woman's beauty, her ruthlessness, her this, her that. She forced a smile. "I have no wish to intrude further on this conversation. I will meet you another time when you are less busy." She rested her slim hand on his shoulder several heartbeats too long.
It did not go unnoticed.
21. Head
Her world spun in dizzying circles and even when she toppled over, pressing her forehead to the cool grass didn't help. Nearby, Brother Viego watched her drunken display with some concern as Mistel grinned lewdly.
"Far too amusing." Cocking his head, Mistel Flint laughed.
Cylus managed a scowl, muttering darkly in the grass.
"Come on, child, I'll get you to an inn."
The proud paladin waved Viego off. "I'm fine... blegghh..."
22. Hollow
Eledaine crossed over the terrain on light feet, careful to tread lightly so as to keep her movements as quiet as possible. Ducking behind a log, she positioned herself into the hollow of the trunk, motioning Ghost to her side. She noticed several people running into the fray. "Fools." She snarled, bringing her rifle up to bear. Ghost whined softly, begging to be turned loose.
A Forsaken dashed within range and Eledaine calmly targeted the undead. "Ghost, take him down."
The thrill of the hunt was absent. There was no rush today, no joy. She had not sent words in months. Her mind wandered back to Stormwind. Despondently, she wondered how he was doing.
23. Honor
Mornmarked, so named after the morning Cylus swung her sword at him, wandered over to his modest cave and buried his shaggy head in his hands. No one had seen the Captain Corwyn for months now. He could no longer feel her presence in the world either.
"So it is true then. You believe she is dead and gone?"
The great white tauren startled upright, braying in surprise. "Stillwaters, have you no honor? My door was closed--I need a moment!"
The blue-haired woman still refused to leave his home and now she was grinning. "You commune with nature and all that live in it, and yet you cannot feel her so you assume she is dead. You are the one without honor. We do not abandon our friends, Morn." She straightened her shoulders and then stabbed her dagger into the fur blanket that served as a door to his cave. "And this isn't a door, and this isn't your home. You just stay here. Like me."
"OUT OUT OUT! My mother gave me that hide!"
24. Hope
With long, silver hair that made the young priestess stand out, Lyraelune was welcomed at the refuge camp. Tending to their injuries from a recent skirmish with ogre raiders from Dire Maul, she felt at peace even though she was in the midst of great suffering. Her pale hands did not tremble and her thin lips stayed in their fixed position, a fragile smile in a seraphim face.
She offered hope as only a Healer could provide. Small tauren children sat beside her, watching Lyraelune's hands fly from patient to patient, a quick prayer murmured over each. It was her faith that she gave them. Even so, seven were unaccounted for and there were four deaths in the camp.
25. Light
The explosion radiated outward, crackling lines of green light dancing over the surface of Captain Corwyn's armor. The blast knocked her off her mount and the ghostly charger evaporated without a rider. Catching her breath, Cylus rocked side to side until she could prop an elbow beneath her body and rise up. Coughing, her gauntleted fists waved away the smoke from her dirt-smudged face.
"Oh wow, Rusty. You see that?!" She laughed and instantly regretted it, her voice breaking with pain. "Ungh... Rusty? I think I'm really hurt. Rusty?"
The mechanical companion did not answer. Suddenly finding that rodent robot was more important than pausing to heal her injuries. Cylus groaned and stood up too soon, stumbling back to her knees. Her shoulders heaved and the captain let out a loud bellow.
"Rusty!"
Her worried yell drew the attention of a pair of hel boars, their eyes glowing with hate and flame. Gasping with pain, Cylus drew her mace and cast a healing ward... that fizzled due to her weakend state. The deadly spiked boars charged in unison.
"Oh Fel..."
Stories 1-7 8-13 14-18
Theme: World of Warcraft
Stories 18-25
18. Foot
"You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."
Eledaine Fe'dananlen didn't bother turning around.
"I could write the most heartwarming of songs if only you'd be my muse."
She kept walking, the polished polearm strapped to her back usually incentive enough to leave her be. But this was Goldshire after all.
"I pledge myself to be your devoted servant! Please, miss, I must know your name."
Tilting her head she slowed her stride and faced him with bemusement, tapping her foot as she waited for him to catch up to her. The shabbily dressed human scurried forth and bowed deeply, his face flushed with passion.
"What need have I for a servant?" Her voice dropped to a silken purr. Noting the eager light in his eyes a feral grin played over her parted lips. The huntress closed the distance between them, their bodies nearly touching. Sliding a pink tongue over wet lips, the smirk regained hold of her features. Her breath was hot and enticing against his cheek and it was all he could manage to stay still, hands clenched to his sides. "What need have I for anything I cannot take on my own?"
He gulped audibly, doing nothing to hide the perspiration on his brow.
"But I do so honor your pledge, human." When she drew back his pained sigh of longing revealed all too well his desires. "I will hold you to your vows and make you regret offering yourself so hastily."
He regarded the night elf with such undisguised yearning, oblivious to the menace her words implied.
19. Grave
The caretaker of the modest cemetary in Elwynn Forest leaned against his shovel briefly, letting the sweat drip into his eyes before swiping a dusty rag over his face. Many years he had toiled this earth, coaxed heaps of dirt into neat piles. It was penance that drew him here in the first place. Staring over the long rows of burial mounds, many which he had dug personally, Atonis Reyner chided himself for reminscing like an old woman.
"Excuse me, sir, would you have happened to see anyone here?"
Catching him in his reverie, he scowled and sounded more gruff than he truly felt. "Look around you. You're seeing the same folk I am."
She blushed faintly and his face froze. Taking his less than cordial demeanor for annoyance at her for disrupting his work, the paladin tried again. "I'm to meet with someone, sir, and only hoped you might have seen someone waiting around." When he continued to do nothing but stare, Cylus added, "Forgive my intrusion. Should you see someone however, I would be most appreciative if you sent word to me. I'll be at the Lion's Pride for a few hours."
It seemed she stood there a long while waiting for a response. When none seemed forthcoming, Cylus Corwyn frowned, turning to leave. The oddly disjointed voice stopped her in her tracks.
"You... you look like your mother so much."
"You knew her, sir?"
"I did. And you as well, Cylus. Do you not remember me?"
Smiling apologetically, she shook her head. The old man hunched his weary shoulders and shrugged. "Of course not. You were a child and it was so long ago."
Now it was Cylus' turn to look startled. Something about the way he spoke, or perhaps it was the sad sad smile, but something in her heart leapt with recognition. "Sir Reyner... "
He flicked his hand quickly, dismissively at his former title. "Only a ditchdigger now. And you never called me such. I believe you addressed me as 'Uncle-sir'." Atonis chuckled with embarrassment, the shock wearing off from seeing the younger version of the woman he once loved. "I expected you to be here days ago."
The admonishment fell on deaf ears as Cylus embraced him suddenly. Closing her eyes against the tide of tears she murmured, "Forgive me for not recognizing you sooner, Uncle."
"You weren't supposed to, child." He stroked her hair with trembling fingers overcome with great emotion. "Come, let us sit near Juli's grave and talk. There is much to discuss, you and I."
20. Green
Tight and snug, the light green corset accentuated her curves and drew attention to her moonlight pale skin. Paired with black leggings and boots that molded to her muscled calves, Eledaine meandered through the cobbled streets of Stormwind until at last she arrived at the bridge between the Mage and Park districts.
He was already there, pleading with a woman she had never seen. Hearing soft footfalls at his back, the lavender-haired elf whirled quickly about, hands on the hilts of his blades. Upon seeing only Eledaine he relaxed. "I ah... would be honored to introduce Eledaine Fe'dananlen, beloved. The childhood friend I spoke of."
The huntress was spared only a cursory glance and a curt nod.
Already Ele was intrigued. "He has spoken much of you as well. And you have my congratulations on the upcoming wedding." Eledaine caught the dirty look the woman gave her friend.
"Twice he has thrown his life away for petty reasons and now he wishes to make it a third. I'll not be mated to a man who does not wish to live."
"But I must do this, beloved. Only when I am done can my mind be at peace."
Tossing her head, Ele noted with some disdain that her friend was reduced to begging. She had stomached the long-winded protestations of this other woman's beauty, her ruthlessness, her this, her that. She forced a smile. "I have no wish to intrude further on this conversation. I will meet you another time when you are less busy." She rested her slim hand on his shoulder several heartbeats too long.
It did not go unnoticed.
21. Head
Her world spun in dizzying circles and even when she toppled over, pressing her forehead to the cool grass didn't help. Nearby, Brother Viego watched her drunken display with some concern as Mistel grinned lewdly.
"Far too amusing." Cocking his head, Mistel Flint laughed.
Cylus managed a scowl, muttering darkly in the grass.
"Come on, child, I'll get you to an inn."
The proud paladin waved Viego off. "I'm fine... blegghh..."
22. Hollow
Eledaine crossed over the terrain on light feet, careful to tread lightly so as to keep her movements as quiet as possible. Ducking behind a log, she positioned herself into the hollow of the trunk, motioning Ghost to her side. She noticed several people running into the fray. "Fools." She snarled, bringing her rifle up to bear. Ghost whined softly, begging to be turned loose.
A Forsaken dashed within range and Eledaine calmly targeted the undead. "Ghost, take him down."
The thrill of the hunt was absent. There was no rush today, no joy. She had not sent words in months. Her mind wandered back to Stormwind. Despondently, she wondered how he was doing.
23. Honor
Mornmarked, so named after the morning Cylus swung her sword at him, wandered over to his modest cave and buried his shaggy head in his hands. No one had seen the Captain Corwyn for months now. He could no longer feel her presence in the world either.
"So it is true then. You believe she is dead and gone?"
The great white tauren startled upright, braying in surprise. "Stillwaters, have you no honor? My door was closed--I need a moment!"
The blue-haired woman still refused to leave his home and now she was grinning. "You commune with nature and all that live in it, and yet you cannot feel her so you assume she is dead. You are the one without honor. We do not abandon our friends, Morn." She straightened her shoulders and then stabbed her dagger into the fur blanket that served as a door to his cave. "And this isn't a door, and this isn't your home. You just stay here. Like me."
"OUT OUT OUT! My mother gave me that hide!"
24. Hope
With long, silver hair that made the young priestess stand out, Lyraelune was welcomed at the refuge camp. Tending to their injuries from a recent skirmish with ogre raiders from Dire Maul, she felt at peace even though she was in the midst of great suffering. Her pale hands did not tremble and her thin lips stayed in their fixed position, a fragile smile in a seraphim face.
She offered hope as only a Healer could provide. Small tauren children sat beside her, watching Lyraelune's hands fly from patient to patient, a quick prayer murmured over each. It was her faith that she gave them. Even so, seven were unaccounted for and there were four deaths in the camp.
25. Light
The explosion radiated outward, crackling lines of green light dancing over the surface of Captain Corwyn's armor. The blast knocked her off her mount and the ghostly charger evaporated without a rider. Catching her breath, Cylus rocked side to side until she could prop an elbow beneath her body and rise up. Coughing, her gauntleted fists waved away the smoke from her dirt-smudged face.
"Oh wow, Rusty. You see that?!" She laughed and instantly regretted it, her voice breaking with pain. "Ungh... Rusty? I think I'm really hurt. Rusty?"
The mechanical companion did not answer. Suddenly finding that rodent robot was more important than pausing to heal her injuries. Cylus groaned and stood up too soon, stumbling back to her knees. Her shoulders heaved and the captain let out a loud bellow.
"Rusty!"
Her worried yell drew the attention of a pair of hel boars, their eyes glowing with hate and flame. Gasping with pain, Cylus drew her mace and cast a healing ward... that fizzled due to her weakend state. The deadly spiked boars charged in unison.
"Oh Fel..."
Stories 1-7 8-13 14-18