The Kicked Gnome's Journal|
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|Monday, August 25th, 2008|
((time to kick this comm back into action!))
((A Fresh New Introduction for ya! Lets see if we can't get some good RP goin' on!))
The Kicked Gnome is a large tavern that sits at a crossroads between Tarren Mill and Southshore in the infamous Hillsbrad Foothills. The building it currently inhabits was once a watchtower utilized by the Durnholde sentries, but fell into disrepair after Thrall's escape. While on her many journeys, Kali'anah 'The Surrealist' Jinthor- combat rogue and agent of the Shattered Hand- came across the place on many occasions. After she finally decided to retire her daggers, she bought the place and restored it, making it a welcome haven for both members of the Horde and the Alliance and a place of peace in a war- torn land.
The door is heavy- oak, you think, touching it- and it swings pondorously on steel hinges. Inside, the room is round. There is a brightly burning hearth on your right, and a bar that follows the curve of the stone wall on your left, lined with stools and bottles of liquor and wine. Back by the bar is a spiral staircase that leads up to what can only be rooms for rent. The light in here is warm, and it reflects off of clean, polished mirrors. Meandering around between the painstakingly clean tables with a white cloth is a tall Troll woman with baby blue skin crisscrossed with scars and golden hair worn in tall mowhawks and warbraids. Her tusks are largish, for a female, and polished, each capped with silver to match the silver hoops in both of her pointed ears. Her feet are bare in typical Troll fashion (you try wearing shoes!) and the rest of her is wrapped in leather and linen. If you pay attention, you can see her golden brown eyes flitting over the entire room, and your eyes might find the dagger she keeps hidden in a sheath at her lower back. There are a few scattered patrons, hailing from all races and walks of life, smattered with a few human and Forsaken servers, busily carrying around tankards and dishes of fresh baked bread and a spicy smelling stew.
As the door swings open, the Troll woman looks over towards you and smiles.
'Good mornin to ya!' she greets you, standing to her full height. 'I be Kali, da patroness of dis here tavern. Come in an' ahve a drink, mon! We be glad ta have ya here at da Kicked Gnome!'
|Wednesday, July 2nd, 2008|
|Monday, June 9th, 2008|
(( I haven't done anything in here in forever. I fail at lj rp. :P ))
Shizu headed toward the Kicked Gnome, scratching Sharmila behind the ears, and purring softly as was her habit. She hadn't been here in ages...she wondered briefly how many of the regulars remained, and whether she'd see any new faces. At least this time she wouldn't go all flimsy-kneed at the sight of any Horde in the place - her months spent in Shattrath had pretty much cured her of that particular twitch.
Of course, as long as she'd been away, it was likely that she herself would be considered a new face of sorts. Then there was the tiny matter of her new profession - while she had not yet blinded herself or bound a demon's soul to her own, she figured her attire and the twin glaives strapped to her back made things pretty obvious.
She paused for a moment, then shrugged. There were lots of colorful people at the Kicked Gnome. She doubted she would actually stand out that much. Besides, the worst anyone would do would be to ask her to leave. Things like that happened to her mentor, Lethraius, all the time.
But, she was much cuter than Lethraius...and much less crabby. Plus, she had Sharmila for added charm.
Snickering to herself, Shizu followed the silvery-purple cat into the tavern and looked around. She needed a seat, something frosty to drink - and somewhere to stash her glaives. It was damn hard to sit properly and non-dangerously with those things on her back...
"I knew I should've stuck with the polearms." Current Mood: content
|Friday, May 16th, 2008|
Its a rather quiet night at the inn, the patrons enjoying the last of the evening's mutton and stew. A few strums from someone's guitar... Peace.
Suddenly, a loud raucous singing comes from one of the first-floor rooms, interupting your meal and shattering the peaceful still of the evening air. You can't make out the bawdy tune, but you figure you'd better tell the "Azeroth Idol" wannabe to tone down the volume.
You approach the slightly ajar door and knock twice before poking your head inside.
( You open the door and inside....Collapse )
|Thursday, May 8th, 2008|
As the summers rain drums its sad rythem against her sheild its tears trickling down her blood stained armor she sighs quietly. The weight of her shield becomming to much for her to bare on her own..she stops letting it slip from her shoulders a wince of pain crossing her delicate features. Current Mood: calm
"Takai come..." She whispers softly as a large unstealths from the night and arrives at her side his giant head butts against her leg almost kocking her off balance.. "Greetings friend... off guarding the childrens sleep again..?" laughing softly to herself as she attaches the sheild to her friends back... she slowly rises her black hair sweeping around her shoulders as she raises her head looking at the full moon. We have about seven hours travel to Undercity and the battles that await us there.. it is said there is an Inn close by, that we should be able to ride to, and bunk there for the evening my friend. Oni needs hay and honestly I could use a drink and a good bed. But we will gain neither if we do not ride out now."
With a heavy sigh she pulls herself atop Oni her stallion and begins a fast ride towards what others say is a welcomming in..as she approachs the inn her keen elvish ears hear the mumblings going on within the bar. Sliding from her horses saddle the chimes of her mail armor allow the others to know of her arrival. As she begins to fasten Oni ot a hitching post outside the Bar she watches her steed dance at the sight of alliance mounts outside..a gentle pat lets her friend know that it is safe but she can understand his unease.. this being her first time within this inn..she wonders if riding through for the rest of the night would not be a better choice. Sighing she knows she is to tired to contiue the ride. "Sorry old friend but if we are to fight tomarrow I must rest tonight.." Attaching a feeding bag to her horse she looks down at Takai. "Lets go in my friend and introduce ourselves"
Pushing open the swinging doors she glances around the small room at the friendly and unfriendly faces bowing gently to her fellow bloodelves nodding to the others she draws her sword... attaching it to Takai's back.. showing she means no harm..yet nervous still the same. A paladin without her sword and sheild are still dangerous yet.. without the familiar weight it catches her off guard. Her green eyes flash to violet for a mire second before she realizes the change concentrating she returns them to the normal green and makes her way to the bar greeting the bar attendant.
I do not wish to trouble you, but is there a way I can get a meal for my companion, and maybe a drink? I am unfamilar with these parts but they do say this is the best place to get both within this area..? Oh my appologizes let me introduce myself properly to you all.... Bowing My name is Itami Chi Gisei, Itami for short and this is Takai my traveling companion.. We were summoned from Sivermoon to help the dark lady and the surrounding area with the overflow of scourge... and you are?
Glancing around the tavern she sighs her small form... the lack of her sheild and her sword makes her wonder what others see her as, sighing softly to herself she smirks thinking, easy date.
|Thursday, May 1st, 2008|
The door swings open and in strides Oddfellow. Gone are his old adornments as a Frostwolf Legion Commander. While he still wears the medallion of his clan around his neck, he now wears the tabard and such of the station of a Lieutenant in the Shattered Sun Offensive. Easily shouldering his war axe, he pauses to look around the modestly busy inn.
"Mr. Odd, Mr. Odd, wait for me!"A snotty little orcling stumbles in after him. The youngling looks around at the large building, having never seen anything of its construction before.
"Now, Grunth, pay attention.... This is a very special place called The Kicked Gnome. Since it's located halfway between Tarren Mill and Southshore, it's popular with both Alliance and Horde," Odd carefully explains.
The orc tilts his head and speaks up,
"But Mr. Odd, don't they fight?"
"Yes, yes, indeed, we do..." Odd carefully explained,
"But not so much here... Here, we honor Warchief Thrall and Elder Cairne's dream by being at peace, even with these Alliance.
Here, let me show you around. See that Troll in the corner, counting the register? That's the owner. Her name is Kali'anah. And the belfy... er, the Blood Elf tending bar is Kaillech. And that Orc, just like you, who's watching everyone, is Kisai. She makes sure everyone behaves themselves.
Let's see, who else is here? Lots of night elves. That grouchy druid over there is Telpoleke, I believe.... The brooding hunter in the corner with the ravager is Lougara. Now watch out for her, she's got a pretty bad temper. I'm not sure why, but well, who can understand night elves? If you want a pretty cool huntress, you should talk to Aurasai! And let's see, that's Niamh... oh, and there's Kym!! Talk to her nicely and she may go get you a glass of milk and tell you a great story!"Odd waves heartily at his old friend as the elder Tauren and the little orcling settle up to the bar.
|Monday, March 31st, 2008|
There is a rather loud eruption of noise outside the inn, and cursing can be heard in Kal'Dorei amongst the sound of scrabbling claws, hissing and angry roars, obviously from a feline mount. The door opens, revealing to any onlookers that yet again, it is raining, as the weather is all too inclined to do in Hillsbrad. Standing in the doorway is a very soaked and very exasperated hunter, her gear in obvious disrepair, mottled with tears and breaks. She has a long chain mail leash of sorts in both hands, to which a rather dim witted, but deadly looking ravager is attached.
The huge beast is not savage, quite to the contrary, he looks dopey but lovable, but his huge maw lined with fangs and spiked legs make him a dangerous creature to be 'loved on' by. His bright orange scaly skin is mottled with black and purple markings, and his bright yellow eyes are slightly glazed over. His hunter sighs as he practically quivers with excitement at all the new friends to make, and it becomes apparent where the damage to her armor came from.
"Damnit, would you be still? I swear, that arcane blast from Kael'thas shorted your brain; you're a mess! Ah well, at least we put the bastard out of his misery. Stay, Damnit." she mutters irritably, but exhausted affection etches her face. The ravager ceases his excited quivering and stays still, and Lougara releases her death grip on the leash, but doesn't drop the chain, either.
She approaches her favorite seat and the ravager follows compliently. Lougara rewards her insectoid companion with a Kibler's Bit, and with a contented hiss, the ravager turns in circles before relaxing his legs into a comfortable position. Lougara sighs and pulls out some rune thread and various leatherworking supplies, glaring in mock anger at her pet.
"Damnit, you know it took me forever to make this netherscale set!" She chides. The ravager is paying no attention to her whatsoever, drowsing in front of the fire, drooling profusely. Lougara snickers at the daft beast lovingly before removing her boots and repairing the torn soles. A quiet little song from her bags has her sitting upright and looking ashamed.
"Oh!! Skysong, I am SO sorry!"She says and hurriedly pulls a small crystalline egg from her bags. Setting it down, a tiny bird of flame materializes, and sings happily at being set loose, then hovers over the huntress' shoulder, watching her sew. Lougara smiles, but it is slightly tired. She gazes about the room.
"Such a new world we live in, eh? Think of it, the Aldor and the Scryers working together!" She shakes her head slightly.
"So tell me, who else has adventures to share? I know I'm all too willing, and I have plenty of stories from the Sunwell Plateau!"
|Thursday, March 6th, 2008|
The inn of the Kicked Gnome remains quiet, as it has for a long time. No longer does it maintain its bustle of his glory days, yet time and again finds old regulars still stopping in for nostalgia and a mug of ale. No one knows what caused the slow decay in populace. Some say that in the stirrings from the north, attention has been focused in preparing for the wrath that will come pouring out of there. Others say that news of new conflict emerging in Quel'Thalas involving the Sunwell and the sindorei's crown prince has kept the warriors occupied with battle.
Whatever the reason may be, it is a pretty quiet scene in which the door creaks open to reveal two male Tauren. One is a familiar sight, the Tauren known as Oddfellow, last heard in these halls to be gloriously slain in battle, yet here, living and breathing. Time has taken its toll on the warrior who would sit and drink and draw sketches of the patrons and their antics. He seems a bit more wearier for the world, his snout marred by a vicious scar across it. The scar and the different nose ring he wears hint at a rather grisly fate for the old one. He wears the proud blue of the Frostwolf Clan, as well as an Eye of Command around his neck. High has he gained in favor with the Warchief's own clan, now his own.
Beside him walks a younger Tauren, clad in the leather armor of a druid. While structurally different, his fur and markings bear a close resemblance to the elder warrior. He is a very handsome Tauren; not yet marked with the scars of battle, he is attractively lean and wellbuilt with eyes to die for. Leaning on his staff, he nervously looks around.
"Here we are," speaks Odd in a low rumble, "Many a day I spent in this tavern long ago... how long ago has it been? Seems like years... It used to be a far busier place. Here, all gold is the same, whether marked with the face of the King of Stormwind or the Mark of the Horde."
"So, its kind of like a goblin thing?" asked the shy and puzzled druid.
"Of a sort," replied Odd patiently, "Although you won't find as much swindling here. Of course things have changed. All things must, Nathanial. You remember when I took you to those caverns? We walked into the one chamber and found ourselves years ago in this very land! Having seen it as it was then and having seen it now, you see how much things change. Such is the way of all things."
Nathanial nodded once, his hooves tight around his staff. Nervously, he watched the humans and dwarves and the couple night elves that were watching him. He had only faced members of the Alliance once and it had ended rather embarrassing for him.
Odd ushered him into a chair and ordered two large steins and set one down in front of him, taking a large slug of his own. Nathaniel cautiously eyed the murky liquid, having never really drank before and, at the urging of Odd, took a long swig. His eyes snapping wide open, the liquid came right back out in a forced spew to the side as the teenaged Tauren gagged at the horrendous taste.
"Je shr shuh muh lan dong shi!?" Nathanial loudly exclaimed in revulsion.
Odd grinned and took another satisfied swig, then explained, "They call it mudder's milk. All the protein, vitamins and carbs of your grandma's best turkey dinner, plus fifteen percent alcohol."
"It's horrific!" the young Tauren declared, staring in horror at the mug.
"Drink it," Odd replied. "It puts hair on your chest and horns on your head." Current Mood: drunk
|Thursday, January 17th, 2008|
"You see, youngling, the problem with this world is that there's not enough passion. Not enough feeling behind the empty words and arrows we sling at each other. It seems the only source of passion today is that between people behind closed doors, and Nether knows I don't care to speak about that with someone I've just met." The tiny female warlock prattled on to her Night Elf companion. She spoke with confidence and purpose though she lacked content.
"And clearly, it's the passion behind the power that I control that makes me so fearsome." She was too young even to manage a mount. Tezekiel smiled down at her from atop her frost saber that was walking along side the gnome. Jubble, the gnome that was currently explaining to Tezzy the depths of her power and connection to the dark powers of the universe, had attached herself to the hunter when she realized how very inexperienced Tezekiel was. Claiming Tezzy as her pupil, Jubble refused to leave her side. And Tezekiel, patience being a trait she often lacked, had resolved to booze up the tiny warlock and leave her in the care of the good people at the Kicked Gnome. So together, they approached the bar.
Tezekiel pushed the door open allowing Jubble to enter before her. They surveyed the room quietly and settled in a dusty corner near a window. Jubble stared at the blood elves in the room, in particular, the female paladin. "Awful what they're doing to that Naruu, eh? I find it just delicious!" She squeaked to Tezekiel in a tone that one could only assume was meant to be secretive. Tiring quickly of her companion, Tezzy gestured to the bar tender for alcohol, lots of alcohol. Recently Tezzy had been working alone, without even a pet at her side, and she had been shocked to find the gnome trailing her.
"Ya know, you're mighty lucky to have crossed my path. I, as you may know, am the Destroyer of Worlds. And I can help you."
"Why is it you assume I need help?"
"Everyone needs help, miss. Everyone can use a bit more firepower in their arsenal. Why look at these people here..." She glanced around the room as if it were filled with scorpids. "These people would be lucky to have me too."
Thanking the bar mistress, Tezekiel began to pound back logger. This was going to take awhile.
|Wednesday, December 19th, 2007|
The door opens and a timid lavender face peers into the tavern, violet blue hair spilling over cheeks marked with mulberry colored jagged markings. She lets out a small squeak upon seeing the number of Blood Elves and darts back out. A snide voice is heard, followed by the sound of a smart smack
"I cannot believe I took you on as a student. You're pathetic." The door opens again and a haughty looking night elf with purple skin and pearl white colored hair comes into the room. She is wearing a rainment given to her by the ArchDruid of Darnassus, and she carries a staff topped with ribs and a skull, a faint aura of poison hovering about the gruesome figurehead. Her silver eyes are narrowed slightly as she gazes around the tavern. Her nose wrinkles ever so slightly and her upper lip twitches in a slight sneer as she gazes at the Horde, but her gaze becomes appreciative as she sees other Kal'Dorei. Her expression fades again as she notices the other races, and she reassumes her haughty demeanor.
The young druid behind her, dressed in a simple but enticing purple silver edged leather top and shoulderpads, and a long violet skirt, carrying a simple long black staff topped with a violet gem. At the younger druid's feet trails a baby hippogryph, its beady bright eyes happy at the prospect of a warm place to rest. The young druid looks absolutely nervous, but lacks the disdain her companion is showing, feeling scared curiosity instead.
"This place will do for now. I cannot bear to travel to Southshore. Filthy inn always full of lecherous sailors that reek of dead murlocs. As though I would allow a HUMAN to touch me!" the elder druid says stiffly, picking a place to sit further away from everyone else. She glares at her young companion.
"Alissara, come sit here with me, where I can keep an eye on you. I can't turn my back on you in here, lest you sneeze again." Alissara blushes furiously in embarrased anger, her lavender face turning violet, but she moves to sit at the table with her companion.
"That wasn't necessary, Telpeloke. That was three weeks ago. I can control myself now." she mutters softly, looking like a kicked worg pup. Telpeloke laughs heartily, but spite colors her laughter.
"I never made that kind of mistake when I was your age, youngling. I don't know of any druid that change into their feline form when they sneeze!" Alissara says nothing, merely hanging her head, not looking at her harsh mentor. Her hippogryph hatchling warbles and flutters into her lap. Alissara strokes her feathered friend, not saying anything, and not really looking at anything either.
Telpeloke sniffs arrogantly and gazes around the room again, sneering at the Sin'Dorei.
"What a ramshackle little place. Should prove to be interesting until our escort gets here to take us to the Blasted Lands."
|Saturday, December 15th, 2007|
The jingle of a wolf harness and the padding of huge lupine feet suggested that an Orc approached the inn, but it was yet another Sin'dorei that slipped in the door. His hair and skin were pale, and his expression was guarded as he narrowed his eyes to adjust to the light. He was a hunter, obviously, as upon his shoulder sat a reddish-brown carrion bird so large it had to duck its head to fit in the door. Neither bird nor elf looked particularly tame.
He'd been travelling a long time. His armour was dusty; the chainmail could have used a beating to get the rust out, and the leather looked worn and in need of oil. The quiver on his back was nearly empty. The bird's feathers were ragged and although its eyes were bright, it couldn't seem to muster the energy to hold its wings in close, and they drooped slightly.
With a weary, quiet tread he approached the bar, the bird's dark, avian eyes and the elf's pale green ones observing the other patrons without comment, save the bird's sharp, enigmatic click of its beak. He seemed unworried by the presence of the Alliance, and paid equal attention to the animals as the people. The elf ordered raw meat, a hot meal, and ale, politely and in that order. At a gesture the bird obediently hopped onto the bar, adding talon scratches to the wood, and the elf began to gently straighten out its feathers as it seemed too tired to do so itself. Current Mood: exhausted
|Tuesday, December 11th, 2007|
((Since we need something INTERESTING going on))
There is a slight fumble outside the door, the sounds of a scuffle and a playful, overwhelmed laugh. The door opens, and a red headed warlock enters the room.
Luxam, now with an overjoyed felhunter at his side, enters the tavern, his wild hair still as red as ever, now wearing black red and gold robes. The felhunter is practically dancing around his master, his mouth open, a blackish purple tongue lolling out of the toothy maw. Luxam chuckles and pets the demon lovingly, only to overexcite him, resulting in getting pounced and knocked to the floor.
"Krumie! Stop!" the warlock laughs as the felpuppy licks his face, scaly/furred tail wagging furiously. The felhunter finally gets up, satisfied now that his master's face is covered in slobber. Luxam gets to his feet and hands a kibler's bit to his excitable companion. With the the demon distracted, Luxam looks around the room. His face brightens upon seeing Aura and Bryn again, and looks even happier to see Lougara, but his face falls slightly, seeing her new male companion. Giving a slight sigh, he shrugs it off and saunters over to the bar.
"Can I get a Darkmoon Draught? I feel like something heavy- binding this little guy was a mite harder than I thought." He chuckles, fondly looking at his 'puppy boy' Krhuumin gives a toothy grin and a silly garbling whine, butting his head against Luxam's thigh. Luxam looks over at Aura and Bryn, smiling.
"Nice to see you ladies again. I see you've definitely garnered yourselves some impressive armor, and deadly companions" he says, looking at the windserpent admiringly
|Friday, December 7th, 2007|
The door swings open and in strides a tall, massive orc, grizzled with age and war. His armor has seen plenty of battles, as does his notched axe. He bears the tabard of a herald. This is a Warbringer, the elite of the Horde whose duties are simple and clear, to rally the members of the Horde to the banner in times of war, but to also sing glory of achievements, of heroes made and of heroes fallen.
This Warbringer throws gold onto the bar and raises a frothy mug and speaks in a lood clear booming voice that fills the corners of the tavern and draws all's attention.
"Hear me, o patrons of this noble establishment. Hear me, you noble members of Thrall's glorious Horde. Hear me, other races, that you may know true honor and true valor.
For not a few days ago, a great and noble battle was fought between the forces of the Horde and the forces of the Sun King himself! A small force of brave heroes invaded the very Keep itself, to give further time in the long battle both Horde and Alliance face against the blood elves of Outland. Into the depths of the great halls of the Mechanar, this noble party of adventurers went. Great and long was the terrible battle.
Blood elves earned their name as their blood washed the very ground they sought to defend until at last, the Mechanar falls! Its halls burn as vile manacells explode one after another, each to be used in some insidious plot. But the heroes themselves could not relish the sweet tang of victory, for reinforcements from the Eye itself swarmed to stave the fires and capture our heros. Many in the Netherstorm heard the war cries of the Horde as they fell, their mission complete, now battling for honor! For glory!
Let us remember now our fallen heroes and call out their names to the Halls of their Ancestors so they may know the names of true warriors who enter their Gates!
Their leader, the orc Balkul Pawlord, hunter and master of beasts,
member of the Horde's Stone Guard!
The sindorei Brites Leafrunner, priestess of the Light of Quel'Thalas!
The Tauren warrior Kaen Ragetotem, also known as Oddfellow, Captain of
the Frostwolf Legion!
The Forsaken rogue known only as the Ninth Rider!
The Tauren warrior Strouud, Champion of the Horde, Conqueror of
battlegrounds, Merciless Gladiator!
Let songs be sung in their honor! Let their memories not be forgotten!
Let their examples of valor shine on in the hearts of the Horde, but
also Alliance as well!
|Sunday, November 25th, 2007|
In OOC news,
Oddfellow hit 70 today! My very first 70!
Naturally, he didn't let it go to his head or anything. Current Mood: accomplished
|Monday, November 19th, 2007|
The door swings open, and a shadow falls across the floor; a soaked figure shakes herself off like a humanoid canine, her blue hair flying everywhere. Silvery blue eyes survey the tavern happily, and the large white reptile beside her grins happily at the warmth of the inn.
"Looks like we got here just after you did, there, Sis," Lougara says warmly, pulling off her enormous blue axe and removing her long black gold trimmed cloak. She lets the door shut after blowing a kiss to a grumpy white talbuk standing outside. The firelight catches on the gold embroidery of her crimson Kurenai tabard, and after setting down her large green amethyst tipped bow, she strides across the room to sit beside the Sin'dorei huntress, grinning broadly. Illybean butts the small of her back, and Lougara rolls her eyes and begins rummaging though her bags.
"Don't feed him any more of that blackened sporefish, woman; that damnable lizard eats better than you do!" rumbles a smooth deep voice, and a tall Kel'Dorei male comes into the tavern right after Lougara, his violet hair pulled into two braids and a small ponytail at the crown of his head. His amber eyes are sparkling in humor, however. Lougara sticks a purple tongue out at the hunter, whose black silver striped saber is coming behind him.
"I don't eat fish and you know it, Tharmon!" Lougara says, tossing a broken obsidian warbead at him as he sits down next to her in his matching tabard. Tharmon looks a bit uneasy at the number of horde in the tavern, but Lougara kisses his brow and smiles at him.
"We're all friends here, honey."she says, then shoots a smile at Aurasai.
"some are even like family"She smiles broadly at her friends, and holds her hand out towards the hunter sitting next to her, and the light catches on something on her finger, flashing brightly.
"My friends, this is Tharmon, an old friend of mine, and my new fianceè" she says loudly, giggling as Tharmon's lavender face turns violet like his hair. She smiles and lays her pale blue hand on his. She then smiles at everyone else.
"I needed to show him our second home."
|Thursday, November 15th, 2007|
Several days have passed since all of the excitement at the Kicked Gnome. Aurasai, the infamous Blood Elf huntress, had disappeared for a time, and many rumors had crossed the Dark Portal, telling of her exploits. It seemes that Aurasai had done well for herself, and had finally gained as much knowledge as she could of her skills as well as a significant amount of reknown.
The last any had seen of her, she had disappeared into the Caverns of Time deep within Tanaris with a group of adventurers, determined to rescue a still young Thrall from the clutches of the Infiinite Dragonflight...
:The door to the Gnome creaks open, as it always does in the wet, Hillsbrad weather, and Aurasai's familiar frame fills the doorway. Behind her, a vicious looking green windserpent, spiked instead of feathered, glides in on silent wings. Aurasai smiles, welcoming the warmth from the roaing fire in the firepit, sliding the massive, shining blue polearm from her back and setting the great green bow next to it. She looks at the windserpent lovingly as it coos and inches towards the fire.:
Yes, Zhivya, you can go curl up by the fire. I, on the other hand, will be having a drink. :Zhivya purrs and wings over to the fire, settling down on the warm stones before the fire. aurasai makes her way to her old seat, at the bar, closest to the door (and her weapons) and sighs contentedly.:
Surry! I am in serious need of wine and food, and I know that you have plenty of both back there! :She looks behind the bar curiously, noting that Kaillech is not behind the bar.: And where's Kaillech? Off starting trouble again, eh? Anyways, bring me both wine in food in copious amounts! I need a break... Outlands is hell. So much still to do...
|Monday, October 15th, 2007|
Luxam finally stops staring at the door through which Lougara had disappeared. Shaking his head slightly, he pulls his bag up onto the couch where he sits, and slips his armor back on. Pulling out his hearthstone, he gives a wistful smile to the friends he's made.
"I need to turn in this bloody heart before it rots. Hopefully I'll return soon. Have fun and try not to set anything else on fire," the last remark is aimed lightheartedly at the sodden mess that is Sandalio.
He doesn't add aloud that he hopes the Kal'Dorei huntress will return as well.
With a final warm wave, he activates his hearthstone and is gone in a flash of light
|Thursday, October 11th, 2007|
The sound of hooves clicking on the steps up to the tavern entrance can be heard. The door opens and a tall cloaked figure ducks to fit in through the doorway. The figure stands up and delicate dark purple hands reach up and push the hood back, revealing white hair that falls in a cascade of curls held back by a headband, pale blue eyes and a warm smile. The young Draenei female shakes her hair a bit now that it's unconfined and looks for a place to hang her wet cloak. Spying a hook on the wall and hoping that's it's purpose, she slips her cloak on to it and turns, her eyes roaving over the gathered crowd.
"Goodness, there's a lot of people here..." her voice is soft and lilting, her accent not nearly as thick as some of her kind. As she moves a bit further in to the tavern, heading towards the bar she spots the other Draenei at the counter.
"Sis? Is that you?" the words purr out from between her lips and her smile brightens even more. She quickly moves across the room and sweeps Daanu up in a giant bear hug.
"I can't believe you're here! Oh, it's so good to see you again! You would not believe the training those Vindicators can put one through!" the words spill out in a rush as she continues to hug her sister. Putting her down again on the barstool she hops up onto one next to her and spins around delightedly, then looks at the gather.
"So this is where you've been hiding out, huh?" her laughter is infectious as she greets all those in the tavern.
"Greetings, everyone! I'm Niamh. And whatever my sister here may have told you about me, don't believe a word of it." she laughs as she lightly punches her sister in the arm then begins to take the sheild and mace from her back and rests them on the floor next to her.
|Wednesday, October 10th, 2007|
The door slowly creaks open, and the sweetly pretty face of a young Draenei female peers curiously around its edge. Her skin is a dusky purple color, and her hair is the color of plum wine. Long bangs cover her forehead and are swept somewhat off to the side. Her wavy horns hold back the rest of her somewhat longish wine- colored hair, save a couple of stray strands that frame her angelic face. Her eyes are a bright contrast to the rest of her, shining like twin moons from beneath dark lashes. Upon seeing others of her kind- and even some of the Horde!- she pushes the door completely open to allow her tall frame to enter the room.
She is rather tall, and her lithe body is wrapped in supple leathers in earth tones. Water drips freely from her skin and hair, leaving shining trails over her bare arms and legs. A huge, wooden shield is strapped to her left arm, and a heavy, wide- headed mace is hanging off of her left hip. Her tail is longer than most female Draenei, sweeping the floor behind her and bedecked with golden rings. Her hooves are like obsidian, and there are mud spatters on her lower legs. A small ball of what appears to be lightning dances around her body, cracking and snapping, lending the air a slight tinge of ozone. Her face splits into a bright, sunny smile as she shucks the shield and her weapon belt and walks in, her hooves daintly clacking on the wooden floor.
A warm fire is just what I need! Her voice is lilting, thickly accented. common clearly isn't her first language.
A welcome change, considering the inhospitable weather outside. She shakes her hair out, shedding shining droplets on the floor around her, then runs her hands over her locks to straighten them. She looks around the tavern with a friendly smile and moves to the bar to sit. She swivels the chair around so she can see the whole room. She watches the Troll and a male of her on race dancing on a table and giggles.
I think I will like this place. She turns back around and faces the blood elf behind the bar. Her eyes flicker a moment, as she remembers the Blood Elves on Bloodmyst Isle, but it is smothered quickly.
Could I have something to drink? You have juice, maybe?
|Tuesday, October 9th, 2007|
As the door creaks open, a large mottled-black cat slowly looks around the room. Seeing the bear-skin rug near the fire, he casually strolls in. His eyes narrow and his ear twitches when he sees the Troll at the bar but he doesn't divert from his path.
A few steps behind him, a much more timid blue-skinned Elf peers through the door. Her wet hair dripping from the rain as she wipes the mud from her boots. With a shy, but friendly nod to those at the bar, she makes her way toward the black cat after making sure the door closes completely behind her.
Kneeling by the cat and playfully scratching it behind the ears, she looks up again to the other patrons. "Say hi to the nice people Luthor." she says to the cat. Waving she says "I'm Shaedawn. This is Luthor. We've been out in that rain for a while. I like the rain and all, but it's nice to get a break from it." Pulling off her red cloak, she reveals patchwork leather armor. She quickly unbuckles the vest and lays it near the fire to dry. The stained gossamer cloth beneath clings to her skin as she sits on the floor next to her pet and begins rummaging through her pack.