For the love of Money (SWTOR)

Part I

Selvar accepted the data pad and again gracefully bowed “Thank you my Lord.” Still bowing she took a few slow steps backward before straightening out her posture and heading out of the chamber. Glancing down at the datapad her eyes lite up in glee. She had been given a chance to play. To show them her handy work in all its bloody glory.

Using the local network she began sifting all relevant information to be found on glitterstim as well as information on the Muun. Inside her mind the wheels began to turn, it was time to play. First thing was first she needed a new set of clothes.

That night she headed down into the underground of Novus Vires in a rather ratty attire she had 'liberated' from a now rotting bum. Most sith were far to prideful to ever stoop to wearing such attire. If anyone suspected her of anything, sith would be their last guess. Luckily seeing a rattataki in this part of town was not an uncommon sight.

Adopting slouching posture she wandered through the streets towards the shop, still mindful trying to keep out of sight. Slowly she lowered the mental blocks she used to safe guard her mind from invasion or attack. Filling her mind with one simple thought, one utter craving, glitterstim.

Inelegantly she wandered through the streets in the vicinity of the shop, twitching her head to the side every now and then. With a downtrodden look she ambled though the crowds waiting for a little mouse to take the bait. Takeing a break she leaned against a building near a back alley. She was shivering from a cold sweat. To simulate the withdrawal effects of glitterstim she had shot herself up with a variety of chemicals. There was no room for flaw in her charade. From the shadows a man placed his hand gently on Selvar's shoulder.

She jumped in fright, or at least she pretended to. It was not as if she didn't know he was there. She had rested there for this very “chance encounter”.

“Calm down there friend” The man stepped back into the shadows of the alley and beckoned Selvar to follow. He was a tall gangly looking twi'lek. “I overheard your plight”, as he spoke the word overheard he tapped his finger on his temple.

In a meek voice “you mean...” spoke Selvar as a sad smile crept along the edges of her lips.

Pulling out a small vial that appeared to be filled with dust the man said “Looking for some spice right?”

Selvar's eyes widening as she feebly reached out for the vial. The man snatched it back into his jacket pocket. “Fraid this my own stash, but I can show ya to a real fine man that can hook ya up if you like”

“Really! Would you really”

“Follow me”

The man lead Selvar through the back alleys towards the shop. Not that she didn't already know where it was but, she needed to scout the location. It was far less suspicious if someone else showed her the way.

The shop was in a dark alley off the beaten path. As they entered they were greeted by two large guards that looked to be human. Both heavily armed. Selvar also noted two auto turrets tracking their movements. Even with all her training a direct assault highly ill advisable. When the men saw the twi'lek they lowered their guard.

“Found another one eh Var” on of the men chuckled as he eyed Selvar closely up and down.

Patting Selvar on the shoulder “Ya, I thought Id help the poor girl out and introduce her to Mr. Mujo.”

“Understood, let me just check her out quick” the guard took out a tool and scanned Selvar for any weapons. She had expected this and brought none, so long as she had the force she would never be defenseless.

“She's clear”

Var looked up at the guards like a dog waiting for a cookie. You could almost imagine him with a tail wagging back and forth. It was a pathetic sight.

“Alright Alright” the second guard handed the twi'lek a small vial filled with glitterstim.

So he was payed in spice to find other glit-biters, interesting.

Var happily took his reward and left to find some back alley and shoot up no doubt.

Turing to Selvar, “Alright follow me through here” The guard lead Selvar to a small office in the back of a large storage room. He knocked on the door. In the storage room she saw several droids moving about sorting and unloading product. Each of the droids was armed.

From the office,“Come in, Come in”, the guard opened the door for Selvar. Jrune Mujo was sitting on the other side of a small desk talking on a communicator. He gestured for her to sit down in a wobbly chair in-front of the desk. The guard left the room but she could tell by his foot steps that he was waiting just out side the door. While she waited there patiently her eyes casually wandered around the room.

Talking into the communicator “Don't worry sweetie we can still go the play tomorrow”.

There was one camera in the corner of the room.

“What kind of father would I be I skipped out on my daughter after she came so far to see me”

Overall the room was rather barren with little of anything inside. On the desk lay a small datapad, in screen saver mode. The image displayed on it caught Selvar's attention. It was of a young muun girl.

“I'll have someone there to pick you up at seven. Yep. Ahhuh. Just wait in the lobby of the hotel, it was the Vack'latore right?. Okay. Love you too. Bye.” Mujo ended the call and turned to Selvar. “Sorry for the wait my little girl came out here to visit it me for my birthday, sucha  sweetie. Now down to business.” He leaned forward clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the desk. “Your here for some spice right, more specifically glitterstim I assume”. He pulled a small vial of spice from a desk drawer dangling it in-front of her.

Selvar eagerly nodded her head maintaining the glit-biter act, eyes fixated on the drug.

“Three thousand credits a tube, take it or leave it. Seeing as I'm the only supplier in Novus Vires I can assure you that you won't find a better price.”

“I cant afford that...”

“Well maybe I can cut you a deal introductory price per say” he leaned towards Selvar “How much do you have?”

“Four Hundred”

Mujo starred at her blankly for a moment, “Your kidding me” hollering to the man outside “Alec get this glit-bitter trash out of my office”

The man barged into the room and grabbed Selvar dragging her out of the room. “Waste of my time” she could hear the Muun mutter to himself as she was dragged out of the building and tossed into the street. Slowly she picked her self up shooting a look along the lines of 'I'm going to kill you' at the guard as she slowly hobbled away.

As soon as she was out of sight she dropped her drug addict act. She unconsciously spread a twisted and malevolent smile from ear to ear.  As she slowly meandered to location she stashed her equipment she passed a metal barrel with a small fire inside used by a homeless man to stay warm.  The man look up at her frighted as he saw her expression. With out even stopping she casually shoved the man face first into the barrel. He began to scream as the hot coals seared the flesh from is face. She didn't even stop to enjoy it nor look back as she had much to prepare before tomorrow night. It did make her feel a little better for the mortification she had just endured, but it was all preparation for her game. A game which had now begun.

Part II

In suite at the Vack'latore a young muun girl was dawning a elegant dress. Standing in-front a a full-size mirror she looked down at her self straightening out her attire where needed.

Ring Ring

Silently the window to here room crept open.

The muun answered the call via a small communicator. After a moment “Alright I'll be down in a few minutes”

Making one final check she did a quick graceful twirl in front of the mirror. As she did a reflection caught her eye. In a dark corner of the room she saw a set of eyes starring back into her own. She froze in place as she stared back into the eyes through the mirror. She could see pale lips pull back revealing a smile. The shadow in corner began to rise and the muun's heart stopped as she tried to dash towards the door. Tripping over her own high heeled shoes she fell face first unto the fluff carpet of the hotel floor. She tried to scream but nothing came out but a shallow gasp. As it felt like a pair of hands had locked themselves around her throat. Rolling over She could now see the shadow now standing over her. It was a women. She made a series of hand gestures as the muun continued to feel like she was being strangled. After a moment her world went black.

The muun felt something warm graze against her breast. It was more then just warm, as her senses returned. They returned violently as she tried to scream only to feel a obstruction in her mouth.

Selvar starred down at the muun lightly brushing the girl's breast with a glowing iron brand. The muun's eye's snapped open wide. Tears almost instantly ran down her face as she tried to scream in vain with a cloth gag in her mouth. Selvar slowly pressed the tip of the brand against the muun as the smell of burning flesh seared into both women's nostrils. The muun looked up-towards selvar pleading.

With a smile and a nod Selvar tossed the brand across the room pulled out a syringe and stabbed it into the girls wound. The Muun seized in pain as the thick needle pierced, stabbing through the burnt flesh. She could feel it as the needles contents forcibly made room for itself inside her breast. Then then after seconds she could feel nothing. Her entire left side went near instantly numb.

“Now be a good girl and don't scream unless you rather I make a matching hole on the other side”.

The girl nodded.

Selvar pulled the gag out of the girls mouth. She did as she was a told and remained silent.

Pulling out a small recorder “Don't worry this wont take long, I will tell you a few simple lines and I want you to to repeat them back into the recorder.” After a moment they had finished.

“Why”

Selvar turned to the girl with a confused look on her face “why what?”

Sobbing the girl shot Selvar a look of shear malice. “Why are you doing this to me!” practically shouting now “What did you kidnap me! Why are you hurting me like this! Why!”

Selvar quickly bent down and grasped the girl by the chin and whispered into her ear “I thought I said no shouting”. As she spoke those words she quickly shoved the gag back into the girls mouth. Balled her hand into a fist and, slammed it into the girl stomach.

“Ready to try cooperating again?”

The girl silently nodded.

“Excellent” Selvar exclaimed as she gleefully tapped her fingers together.

“As to the 'Why'. Why don't we just go ahead and ask your daddy”. Pulling the girls communicator out of her pocket Selvar searched through the contacts for Mujo's number. Taking a deep breath Selvar called the number and spoke in a voice like she had used when pretending to be a glit-bitter. “Mr. Mujo, I have something here you may be looking for.” Selvar handed the girl the communicator.

Part III

Mujo and his two guards pulled up to the old warehouse. Cautiously they drove inside. The guards got out of the car looking around the room. The automatic doors closed behind them. Both of the guards were well armed. The warehouse was large filled with an assortment of abandon crates. Turning the place into a labyrinth.

They signaled and gave the all clear to Mujo. Mujo then climbed out of car obviously rattled by the evenings events. He was dressed in his finest. An attire suiting the family plans Selvar ruined. Selvar her self was safety hiding in the dark scaffolding above the trio. She had to be careful. Luckily she had the element of surprise. The men below her still thought they were dealing with a random addict trying to pawn off free drugs.

Shouting out in no particular direction “Lets be done with this!, if you hurt her in anyway I'll”

Selvar cut him off with the warehouse speakers, to hide her location, “Show me the glitterstim”

“My daughter first!”

“Fine”

“Daddy? Please help me daddy!” the muun girls voice poured over the speakers pleading for help. The voice was brief sigh of relief to Mujo.

“The spice, show me the spice”

Mujo gestured to one of the guards. The man walked over to the back of their hovercar. As he opened the trunk  he set his gun down. Not wasting the chance Selvar dove off the scaffolding while remotely killing the lights for the warehouse.

In less then a second after it went dark a bright neon green light illuminated the room for a fraction of a second. Something large fell to the floor with a thud. Mujo dove back into the hovercar slamming the door behind him. Commanding his vehicles A.I. to turn on the lights.

The headlights illuminated a corner of the room. The remaining guard dashed into the light taking a defensive position with his back to the crates. Taking a risk he bolted over towards the hovercar only to find the door was locked.

“Find my daughter! No one leaves her until she is safe and that bitch is dead!”

The guard punched the hovercar in frustration. Having little choice the guard dawned a pair of night vision goggles, and started his sweep. Mujo gulped as the man stepped out of the headlights into the shadows. Pleading he called out to his guard again “I don't care what you have to do, just please save my little girl”.

The guard wandered through the narrow cor-doors created by the containers. Gun out in front on full alert. He was frightened, trying to tell himself that the green light he saw was nothing more then blaster fire. He began to hear the pitter patter of little feet rooming around him. Yet when ever he turned to look their would be nothing their. Then he heard the giggling. It echoed around the room make it very difficult to tell little more then the general direction of its location. He trudged towards the source of the sound. Trying to follow it. As he could hear it slowly encircle around him.

The giggling and footsteps stopped. In turn he stopped in his tracks. Then he heard someone snicker behind him. Before he could turn around he felt his whole body seize up as a bright light protruded in front of him. Looking down with horror he could see the blade of a green lightsaber extending out of his chest. He managed one scream as  his own crumpling figure fell forward. The lightsaber slicing up the middle as he did.

Mujo pressed himself against the back seat of the car. Drenched in sweat from fear. After that last scream he expected he was next. His eyes darted around out each of the windows looking for even the slightest movement in the shadows.

Thump

It sounded like something had just landed in the roof of the car. In a panic he opened fire with his small blaster turning the roof of his hovercar into a pin pincushion. He heard a scream and could see blood dripping down from the holes in the roof. He got her!

Mujo opened the door to scamper out of the car and gander a look at his assailant Make sure the deed was done. Just has he placed his first foot out the door he felt a needle prick the back of his neck and everything went black.

Mujo's head was pounding as he came too. He took in his surroundings and found he was tied up and restrained in a small chair. Before him was Selvar sitting anxiously at the edge of a table. She was wearing an all black attire of what appeared to be leather armor. He pale white skin was exposed in many places. Its revealing nature looked to be designed more in a need of functionality and ease of movement rather then sex appeal.

This attire confused him, just the day before she had stumbled into his office  with the look of a glit-biter. Dressed in ratty rags that look to have never been washed. The women in-front of him looked completely competent and in charge. Wasn’t she supposed to be some random spicehead from the streets? Yet she easily dispatched both of his best men and kidnapped his daughter. These thoughts raced around in his head. Then as if she knew what he was thinking Selvar smiled and, lightly tapped on a object attached to her belt. He knew instantly what it was and suddenly everything began to add up.

“Sith bitch!” he screamed at he as he spit at her feet. The effort sent another round of throbbing pain in his head.

“Took you long enough, I though you would have pieced it together after I killed your first guard.”

“Whats this all about then! A sith wouldn’t go through all this trouble to get some drugs.”

“Your right I wouldn't, But the thing is this is all about the drugs. Glitterstim is illegal in Novus Vires. You should have known there would be repercussions.”.

“You cant possibly expect me to believe you went though all this to enforce the law. You more then likely have broken more laws then I have orchestrating this whole mess. So answer me why!”

Selvar tapped her fingers on her chin as though she was deep in thought “To set an example I suppose, or at least that's what I was planning to tell my superiors. In reality I suppose I was getting a bit bored and wanted to have a little fun.”

“Fun! Fun! All this for a little fun? Do you have any idea how hard I worked to establish my position in this city and you come here and try to ruin everything for a little fun!?”

Selvar grinned “In a way yes, but if there is one thing Id like to point out. Aren’t you forgetting something, or someone.”

The muun's face went pale “Where is she!”

“Don't worry you can see her soon, very soon. In fact I've only one little tiny little request to make and she will be all yours”

“Name it”

“I want you to give your suppliers and any partners a call, tell them the authorities are on to them and you would like to hold an emergency meeting to plan a course of action. Set the meeting for six hours from now at your little shop your storing the product at. Simple yes?”

Begrudgingly he replied “fine”.

Selvar untied one of his arms and handed him his own communicator she had stolen from the hovercar. After a few minutes he had made all the appropriate calls.

“There it's done. Now let me see my daughter, please”

“Good Good, alright, ready, here she is” with a warm smile Selvar grabbed a sack off the ground and lightly tossed its contents at Mujo, landing in his lap.

His eyes opened wide, his eyelids strained enough that they looked like they would tear. Aghast by what had fallen in his lap tears welled up and poured down his face. Laying in his lap was the severed head of his daughter. Rage quickly consumed him as he struggled against his restraints reaching out with his one free arm to try and strangle Selvar.

“YOU MONSTER YOU KILLED HER!! I”LL KILL YOU I SWEAR IT I'LL KILL YOU SITH BITCH!” roared Mujo.

Selvar began to laugh out loud as she walked over to him pinning is flailing arm down. She spun him around in the chair to face the opposite side of the room. Before him huddled up in a corner was the body of a young muun girl riddled with blaster fire. Selvar placed her hand on Mujo's shoulder and  whispered gently into his ear “No, you did”

Pulling out a small recorder Selvar held it next to Mujo's ear, as he sat there in shock, as the reality of the situation hit him. Pressing a small button the recorder sprang to life playing its last message,

“Happy birthday daddy”

Swiftly and silently Selvar pulled out her lightsaber and beheaded Mujo.

Epilogue

Selvar gracefully entered the chamber seeking out Instructor Trihilus. Holding a sack she walked over to the instructor with a large beaming smile.

Setting the sack on the floor she knelt before Trihilus. “I have returned. All involved with the gliterstim trade in the city are now dead or soon will be. Mujo and both his guards are dead. Before I killed him I coerced him into luring his partners and suppliers into a trap which I used in-turn to incinerate them, the supply of drugs and, the shop itself. I did let one of his lackeys live to unknowingly continue distribution of the a small remaining supply of the drug. Drug which I had laced with poison. It is my intent that this poisoned spice will pick off number of glit-biters creating a panic. Which should cast a shadow over the drug trade as a whole in the city. Making it difficult for any future dealers to set up shop with a now paranoid consumer base. Also in time I assume the enraged glit-biters will take care of the lackey for us in retribution. As they will likely lay most of the blame for my actions at his feet.” gesturing towards the sack “If you require proof I have brought Mujo's head as a evidence. I do hope my actions have fulfilled your expectations, my Lord”. 

Random Shorts: The Pig

That cursed mongrel. His perverted deranged eyes moved across her body as he lay back in his bed awaiting the morsel that stood before him. With every sway of her hips he was almost salivating. His shallow little mind undressing her As he watched her remove the veil hiding her face, along with her undergarments slipping them off from under her long silk attire.

He made her sick, as she would hold back bile. It disgusted her to have to stare at his rotund shape. Sweat rolling down his folded layers of thick hairy of flesh. All the while starring back into his eyes trying to keep him amused and unaware. Luckily for her his eyes rarely past her shoulder line. The worst part of all was the dancing, her slow erotic movements as she crawled up onto bed towards him. She felt like a dog wagging its tail trying to appeases its master for a treat. Her only solace was taking in the humor and irony of the situation. This nauseating beast thought itself to be noble. In his own eyes he was a noble man. In his mind even allowing a women a glance too view his frame stripped bare was a grand gift. He also thought here in his own home was the safest place of all. The poor fool had no idea.

She stopped her self resting over the beast's midsection. His large blubbery hands worked there way up her dress resting them selves on her chest as he began to grope her. She gritted her teeth and began to chant in demonic tongues under her breath, the fool didn't even notice. No longer being able to with strain himself the man ripped open her dress. His hands stopped and eyes opened. All across her chest were tattoos and depictions of death. It was a glance into the underworld. Before the man could react or say a word she covered his mouth with her hand. A smile spread across her face.

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear telling him not to scream in a twisted tone that beckoned him to try. He could feel her body on top of his growing warmer and warmer until it was almost painful to the touch. With her other hand she ran her finger across his cheek. It felt like a branding iron. Her finger seared his skin as she drew a characters from her native lands on his face. On the left cheek the character for rape, on the other the character for murder. His eyes ran with tears from the pain. He tried to push her small frame off his own but she held her position pinning him down with her legs and an inhuman strength. His arms swung wildly trying to retaliate the best he could. She just ignored him it meant nothing to her, his own fat padded most of the blows.

Desperate he bit the hand that covered his mouth. Her face flinched a little, but the only part that changed was her smile grew a little wider. Blood dripped from her hand into his mouth running along his tongue and down his throat. Each drop felt as though scalding water was being poured down his throat. He could feel the inside of his mouth blister along the lines her blood ran. As it dibbled down his throat it passed over his vocal cords searing them leaving him unable to scream. He pissed himself in fear of his coming death. She hissed at him for that. Removing her hand from his mouth he tried to scream. Hard as he tried he could only create enough sound to carry across the room. Each attempt was rather painful.

Deciding to finish the job she placed her hand on his chest over the heart and dug her fingers in deep. As her fingers ripped through the fat they left blacked charred holes. They reached deeper. Her fingers snapped each of his ribs one by one. She tore bone and flesh away leaving her prize exposed. Then gently as she would handle a child she wrapped her fingers around his still beating heart ceasing the magic she used to burn him. Slowly she pulled up as each of the veins and arteries snapped. She raised his heart over her head letting the blood flow into her mouth. Then she began to devour it. She was now soaked in his blood. Tears ran down her face as she feasted on his heart. She hatted this, even after so many years she detested the vile ritual no less. She had no choice, the demon she made the contract with, so many years ago on that dark desert night, demanded it. The thing that sickened her the most was after so many years of wielding the demons magic her body had grown to enjoy it. As the blood ran down her skin it felt like a lovers touch. The fresh hearts were like a drug.

She removed her self from the now fresh corpse removing what tattered shreds still remained of her clothing. The blood covering her small nude frame glistened in the light of the fireplace. She walked across the room to a bath his servants had run prior to leavening the two alone. He had given them instructions not to bother him until the dawn. She toke a towel and began to wipe of the blood covering her chest and the urine now covering the inside of her thighs. In light of it all she decided to take the opportunity and relax as she stepped into the warm bath clearing her mind of the nights events, thinking instead of an poor orphaned child she meet in the streets. How he reminded her of herself as a child in some ways and hoping he could rest easier knowing his mother had been avenged.

Random Shorts: Fall and rememberance of an unsung hero

His was not a name passed down through the halls of remembrance like that of Stormrage. Nor one of a hero that brightens the hearts of men in their darkest hours like that of Fordragon. He was nothing but a simple captain charged with a small group of nameless men, but in the eyes of the men whose lives were held in his large noble hands, he was a hero true as any other.

In the lower terraces of Zul'Drak the draenei captain lead his men of the Argent Crusade through the scourge infested lands of the Drakkari's falling kingdom. The men were tired, wrought with fatigue, as the undead gave little rest for the living. Regardless the days efforts had gone well. They were victorious in several small skirmishes, and battered as they were had suffered few losses. Marching along the cold stone roads the men trudged through lands left dying by the invading undead. A stench hung thick in the bitter cold air. Each breath biting at their frozen lips, well the smell emptied what ever lay in their stomachs. Most of the time the wind lay still, leaving the air stagnant. Allowing the fumes from bodies to rise up in the air and fester. From the looks of things save the occasional bird all the wildlife was either dead or left dying in a rabid state before scumming to its maker. Add on the hundreds of corpses, most of them still moving. Along with what ever poisons and plagues the nearby Necropolis was spewing. Its easy to understand the hell the men lived through and fought against day after day. None of this seemed to affect the captain. In truth it did but he would dare not show it, least of all in fort of his men. From time to time if they past the corpse of one of there own. One could spot a tear fall from his eyes but nothing more. He would lead on marching with pride, each step he took seamed long and meaningful. His pace was always swift but without a word would slow it down just enough so each man could stay in place and hold thier heads high.

At last they reached a grand stairs leading to the upper terraces only a few miles out from a bed and with a little luck a meal once they returned the the Argent Stand. Most of them breathed a sigh of relief though the danger had not yet passed. The fragrance of death didn't hang as heavy here, and most of the still living trolls didn't bother the Crusaders as long as they didn't draw to close. Seeing them as a living shield against the undead. Buying them time for their own plans may be.

As they ascended the stairs rising over the tops of rotting trees a few of the men would look back saying a prayer for the fallen or looking unto the Necropolis uttering a curse at its very existence and unto its maker the fallen prince. To their left a flock of crows feeding on the dead took off into the air spooked by the sound of one of their own letting out a shrilling squawk. Through the mass of black feathers they saw a light ascending not far into the air before fading out barley above the trees in a nearby ruins.

Though it was hard to tell the captain thought it too be a flare of distress. It faded out too quickly leaving it was unlikely that Crusaders at the stand had seen it. Had it not been for the crows drawing his attention, he may of missed it as well. He took quick note of his men whom had noticed it as well, all with a look anxious to aide their fellow crusaders and brothers in arms.

The captain reached down to his side for his own flare only to remember that it had been damaged in a battle early that day. He was not left with time to think if he was to save them. He needed to move now. He signaled for two men to rush on toward the stand to inform them of what had happened and bring aid. The rest of them, with their captain in the lead, charged headlong off the road toward the source of the flare. As he charged running past the corpse the crows had been eating, he spotted one dead crow with something in its side letting of a slight shimmer in the dim light. Maybe an arrow head he thought, but dismissed it not having time to worry about such trifle matters as one dead bird.

Now standing in the shadow of a monument to some old tribal god they found it had all been a trap. Standing before them a Drakkari priest, and an old flare gun on the ground at his side. The troll's dark eyes sizing each of the men up before resting his attention on the captain.

The captain motioned for his men to stand back. He grabbed an old tome adorn in gold from his side and began to chant several words of the light, in turn brandishing his armor in holy rapture. As he did the old troll's lips stretched back into a twisted and dark smile. The captain then reached for a maul he had slung across his back. Taking a step forward towards the troll. Preparing to charge fueled by the righteous fury the light had granted him. The old troll lifted his hand making a swift motion in the air. An arrow flew. It ran through the captains hand causing him to drop his maul. From the shadows and rooftops of the ruins trolls stepped out in force. Their numbers easily doubling that of the already exhausted men. They stood no chance. Left with no place to run the men rushed to their captains side with weapons drawn. The captain grabbed the arrow lodged in his hand ripping it free and tossing it on the ground as his blood ran pouring from the now gaping hole. He reached down and took his maul firmly in both hands. As he ordered his men into a tight formation. All of them fueled by their faith in the light and the hero that lead them.

The troll motioned again this time a wave of arrows raced towards them. Far to many to dodge and at to close a range. To their surprise almost all of the arrows missed hitting anything vital. Then the poisons kicked in. The men's vision quickly blurred as they fell one by one in a matter of seconds. Fighting back poisons on top of their already fatigued bodies had proved to much.

Looking down expecting to see his men dead and dying he instead saw them breathing but unconscious. A pulse of terror washed down his spine. If the trolls didn't intend to kill them, the only other options were far more bleak. He grimaced in pain and fought back the poison already over taking him. Weapon in hand he charged the old troll, letting out a bellowing battle cry. Before he could even reach the priest two other trolls leaped down from the shadows tackling him to the ground. Pressed to the cold stone floor he managed to knock one of the trolls from his arm, and in one quick motion took the maul in one hand and swung it upwards towards the old troll priest, narrowly missing its skull.

The priest staggered back a little shaken from his close brush with death. The captain tried to swing the maul back around for another try, but just as he felt his muscles tighten preparing for the strike, he felt cold jagged steel meet his arm. One of the trolls on top of him cut of the captains arm at the elbow. He let out scream of pain.

The old troll regained its composure and kneeled down towards the captain, pulling out a large piece of cloth from his robes. In a dark and gravely voice “Dat ben mighty foolish of ju mon, Iz cant be haven ju die'en on me now.” He began the wrap the bloody stub on the captains arm creating a make shift tourniquet pulling it quickly and tightly to cause as much pain as he could.

As the sun set below the ruins behind the old troll his lips curled back into another evil grin, “I be have'en plan for ju mon, iz gonna be fun, you see”. As his world began to turn dark he could see across the way into the trees. There lurked a human woman, adorn with short black hair starring back at him into his eyes. She made a simple nod at him then set off into the forest. Her shape changing as she faded out of sight. His world finally turned dark and the last thing he remembered was a low echoing howl.

He woke several hours latter to a cold drip on his brow. The sight he was greeted with washed what little remaining hope he held on to. He sat chained in a large cold and dank cell, along with several other crusaders some of them his men. Many were from other patrols they assumed had been killed by the undead scourge. In one corner of the room he saw a large mound of corpses. All of which he reconsigned as crusaders or paladins of the order. Their bodies mangled and dissected, having been defiled in ways untold. One of the things that troubled him most was on top of the mound lay the bodies of the two men he had sent back to the Argent stand. They never made it.

Now without hope he spoke in ancient tongues. It was a prayer to the light, to the beacons of his people the Naaru. He asked that the souls of his men be spared and at the very least they find rest in the afterlife. His eyes filled with tears thinking back on his life and his family. His parents and brother lost in ages long past. As he could hear is captors returning for him he said one final prayer. One to the last of his family, his beloved little sister.

May the light watch over her always.

Random Shorts: A herald is chosen.

The great storm rolled over the hills, looming overhead in the moonless sky.

“Fine catch we have this time” says a bandit toasting mugs of ale with his friends at either side around a towering fire. “That we did, I know some Aquilonian nobles that will pay good coin for such a fine cargo of young stygian whores” spoke a man presumed to be the leader. “and I look at it this way we are giving them a better life, it was leave them to be the children of poor farmers, or now they will be richly adorned playthings of nobles”. Taking stand from his seat he shouted out to his men, “Fine work today boys tomorrow with the dawn we ride for port and say good riddance’ to this damn snake filled hell hole” dawning a large smile “but, tonight I will ask of you all only one thing that, ya all eat and drink merry!”.

The men cheer in a wild drunken celebration. For these men had reason too after raiding a small farming village they attained a cargo of young stygian girls not yet soiled by years labor on the farm or as whores to the cult of set. To the right men these girls had a lot of value upon returning to Aquilonia so there was a large profit to be made. So the men began to drink like there would be no tomorrow, and sang songs of home and women.

During all this celebration no one held notice as the horses began to stir, and this was not a scare like a jackal prowling beyond the edges of the fires light. It was something far darker. Something far older.

At the center of the makeshift camp there was a lone tent. It was filled with the whimpers of the young scared to death and mourning the loss of all they once loved. No families nor homes to return too, now held captive but strange foreign men. They had reason to cry and fear, and all did, but one. One whose panting breath drew hot, crackling in the air like a flame One whose eyes burned with a fire that could only be called a invitation to hell itself.

The storm draws closer, its eye sighting its prey.

As the men party on into the night the storm at last draws into view over the desert dunes. Though no thunder is present, nor rain to be seen but, to any man sane of mind and clear in thought the blackness of the clouds and the way they moved seemed almost alive.

The horses fell into a panic, fighting with all their will and might to get away, to salvage that last chance at life. The drunken men scrambled to calm their beasts. One man was kicked in the face from a horse's back legs crushing his skull, he was one of the lucky ones that night. Some of the beasts made it away, and as the men struggled to calm and with-strain the animals that remained. The celebration had ended

As quickly as the frenzy had started all falls quite. The horses had all stopped. If one looked into the eyes of the horses that remained one can see a mournful expression. One that is seen at the executioners block day after day. The look of a man that has come to terms with the fact he is about to die, and no matter what he does there is nothing that can be done to escape that truth.

Confused as to what had given the horses such a fright only now to still, a few of the men take notice to the black clouds rolling over the dunes.

He draws over his prey, arcing his tendrils into the moonless sky.

From the depths of the storm they came forth. The Giant tendrils slowly unraveled out, with a grace that had transfixed the eyes of the men, leaving them almost in a trance where all they could do was stare. They were like the tentacles of a kraken stretching out after a long slumber. Translucent red and glided over the night sands, their scorching heat leaving behind lines of glass.

As the storm moved over the camp the tendrils moved about the desert sands near the edges of the camp, but never once entering the ground inside it. That was until the center of the storm rested over an lone tent in the center of the camp.

The tendrils slowly pulled back into clouds, save all but one. In a fluid motion it stabbed the tent from above. For a brief moment the tendril stood there still, then quickly as it struck it pulled away black into the storm. In mere seconds latter the storm faded away leaving nothing in the sky save the same moonless night that had come before and a growing light from the inside of the tent. The light began to grow more and more vibrant, until it erupted and a wave of flame shot forth from all sides of the tent engulfing it in a torrent of fire.

Then came the screams, the screams of girls being burned alive. The sound freed the men from their trance. Well that along with the putrid smells of burning flesh.

“Get some water and put out the fires, save as much as the cargo as you can!” Screamed the bandit leader realizing he is watching his profits burn away.

Three men cover themselves in water and run into the tent, their screams are quickly added to the chorus of death. As the tent collapses giving way to the inferno within one of the men escape. As the others run to his side to douse the flames, all the screams from the tent come to a end.

The man began to cough up mouth fulls of blood. The blood was boiling hot searing the flesh on the man’s face as it dribbled onto the ground where it then steamed and bubbled like a witch's cauldron. The men at his side then took notice of the gaping hole in his chest. All the flesh around the hole is charred and seared, leaving the smell of burning flesh heavy in the air. Several of the men turned away gagging, others threw up.

In the center of the inferno where the tent once stood, a figure rises.

It was one of the young stygian girls, from the light of the fire the men can see the flames burned away what little rags she had for clothing exposing her skin, which from head to toe was charred a dark black and could be seen flaking off, wafting in the air. What little of her hair that remains was smoldering on her crusted scalp. Her eyes glance around the camp and meet the gaze of the bandit leader. The man had struck down her father before her eyes. Then he left her tied up well she could hear his men defile her mother's still warm corpse in the next room. Her eyes turned black and smoke began to seep out from all around her small frame from any hole it could escape. She screamed her body arching back and face looking towards the sky. Her charred skin cracked and split spraying blood out around her as a mist that turned to steam before it even hit the ground. Dark gray muscles bulged out from these seams ripping them even larger as her charred skin falls off in chunks turning to ash as it hit the ground. Her screams change from that of a small girl in unimaginable pain to that of something inhuman, filled with the blood lust of a demon.

The demon walked forth from the remains of the tent atop the charred bodies of other small stygian girls. With every step the men can hear bones break and skulls being crushed under the demon’s stride. From the remains souls of the girls rose and take the shape of burning skulls encircling the newly born demon. The very air around the demon could be seen crackling as though peering into a fire.

Several of the men run away in fear. The bandit leader ordered the remaining to attack, and slay the demon. The first several men charged and died as soon as they come within feet of their target. Instantly erupting into flames and rolling on the ground screaming in pain as the last of their life burned away leaving a chard husk in the shape of a man. Another man with a large sword attempted to strike at the demon from behind. The blade strikes deep into the shoulder of the demon. The wound hissing with a black smoke. Several of the flaming skulls encircling the demon pass through the man’s arm sending it ablaze and in mere seconds his lower arm crumbled. The flesh fell of in several chunks turning to ash and blowing away in the wind. The demon turned around in one swift motion simultaneously plunging its hand into the mans chest. Flames began to poor out from his eyes and mouth as his skin turned black. The demon then picked up the mans sword taking it in hand and charged into the remaining crowd of bandits In a furry of steel it butchered the men, each slash made by the sword smolders, instantly sealed from the intense heat.

A few of the man try run from the fray and before they can even make it more than several feet away the demon bends back taking in a great breath then unleashing a torrent of fire towards the men incinerating them. The only man left alive is the bandit leader crawling on the ground trying to get away shaking so badly from fear he can’t even stand. As the demon drew close the bandit turned around with a look of complete fear upon his face, pissing himself as the demon approached. Only feet from the bandit now backed against a boulder. The Demons flesh turns to ash and falls off the girl’s body leaving her standing there. Her skin no longer charred but smooth, glimmering from the glow of the fires around them. Her black hair blowing in the wind. Her small nude frame leaving no trace of the demon she just was. A smirk spread across her face as she knelled down and gently placed her small hand on his chest running in under his shirt finally to rest just over his heart. Tears began to run down the mans face, retribution had come for him at last. She slowly dug her fingers into his chest as his flesh could be heard searing only to deafened by his screams. Her fingers dug slowly deeper she could feel as each of his ribs snapped from the shear strength of her grip. Then she found her mark. The man could feel her fingers slowly wrap around his heart. She looked back into his eyes and smiled for a moment before rage set in remembering all the horrors he had done unto her family. With on quick pull she ripped out his heart. In his dieing moments the last image he saw was her standing before him blood glistening off her nude body from the light of the fire as she held his heart above her mouth letting every last drop poor into her mouth.

As the dawn came a vultures flew over the camp, attracted by the stench of death and burning flesh. From there they see something that no man ever would notice, something that could only be seen from the up high. In the morning light the sun reflected off the glass lines left in the sand. With the camp at its center they created a symbol. The mark of Demon. The Mark of Xotli.

Random Shorts: Vengeance and Lies

The sky was stained auburn as the sun began to slowly dip beyond the horizon of the mountain peeks. As a warm breeze brushed through the grassy wild lands of Nagrand. A top a hill stood four stones. Stones etched with the names of those sense dead marking their graves. Two were barley seen overgrown by grasses that had taken root countless summers ago. In those two there laid a man and a women, a husband and wife, a father and mother. Next to them lay a stone marking a grave not nearly as old, Only now beginning to settle after several moons time. Beneath it laid a hero, a son, a brother. And next to that the fourth stone sat, atop a freshly dug grave. There rested a women, a master, a friend. Kneeling over all four covered in soil with eyes that could shed tears no more was a daughter, a sister, a disciple.

She no longer felt sorrow, she embodied it. She no longer was filled by thoughts of revenge, instead she herself became vengeance. Strong as her arm is, powerful as her connection to the spirits had become her mind was broken. She no longer held hope, no longer was allotted a shoulder and warm embrace to comfort her sadness. She had become chaos. Life now held no meaning. All that remained was retribution. Until the day blood in the name of vengeance was spilled by her own hand. A day when she could end it all and add a fifth stone beside the others. Her own.

Slowly she began to rise as the light of day gave way to darkness. The warm breeze had become a bitter chill, as the spirits began to guide her, mislead her, confuse her, comfort her, ruin her. In her hand she looked down at a small vial of blood nearly black in color from an unknown poison, from her master's corpse. It was her only clue. A signature with any luck. With the completion of her training she had earned and inherited a new title along with a new name. A name she had chosen to add to her own, last names were uncommon among the Draenei, as a last memento of remembrance to a master that had taught her the ways of the spirits. And raised her as her own. With that she began her journey and took the first steps of her final days.

Farseer Azellur Sinovia


After several weeks she was no closer to understanding the poison used, let only finding the killer. All she had determined is the poison was partially magical in origin making difficult to study. Most of the compounds in the poison that she was able to identify were harmless and normal not used in poisons. Then again whatever spells had been placed on the substance could have done mild alchemical transformations to help hide its origins. It didn't help that after she managed to separate the poison form the blood that there was little material left to work with. Seeing as the body was now buried and rotted gathering another sample was no longer an option. She had to find another source. Azellur's only bet was to start with the most likely conspirators behind the murder.

Unlike herself, her master was a beloved being. She quickly rose the ranks of the Earthen ring and had it not been for her death she would have been a likely candidate for the council of elders in the coming years. She also stood strongly in a position of neutrality towards the conflict between the horde and alliance. Often assisting wounded on both sides during conflicts. Though that had been a point of contention between her and her disciple Azellur, who’s hatred for Orcs was endless. In her mind the horde of today and the Orc horde of the past, that murdered her people, were no different. Although out of nothing more then respect for her master she learned to at least be tolerant of Orcs residing in the Earthen Ring. That left few options in regards to possible groups involved. Azellur felt it best to start with the most obvious.

The Twilight's Hammer. The direct conflict between the two sides was no secret and assassinations by the cult targeting members of the ring was not unheard of. Also looking at the magical nature of the poison the cult became an easy suspect. Though normally the cult would take credit for their work leaving a clue of some kind, but she allotted that to nothing more then arrogance on the part of the killer regarding the cult's reputation. So in turn she started a journey towards a place ripe with cult activity.

Silithus, a twisted desert infested with the insect race known as the Silithid. Hoping to avoid any conflict with the swarms Azellur slowly journeyed out into the desert. Though uneventful, the trek was not an enjoyable one. Sandstorms were nearly constant blinding one and leaving the throat parched. Though the worst part was the humming No matter where you were you could always hear a low hum beating in the back of your skull. Vibrating over the dunes from a thousand wings. It served as a constant reminder of the presence of the Silithid.

After the better part of the day she came upon a small Twilight camp. Hiding from view in a nearby crystal formation she surveyed the camp looking for a place to strike.



As she began to leave the safety of her hiding spot she caught glance of a figure to her left mere feet away. Startled she jumped backwards holding her weapon out front. The figure bore no threat. The body lay in the sands baking in the desert sun. But appeared to only be but a few hours old, maybe from the morning at the earliest. It was an Orc male. Based on the robes on the corpse he was most likely of some importance in the cult, not a lowly grunt at the very least. The part that struck Azellur the most was the blood caked onto the Orcs face and robes that appeared to pour from his eyes and mouth. It was nearly black, just like what had happened to her master. Wasting no time she gathered what samples she could. Seeing as most of the blood had dried she slit the Orc's throat attempting to drain what she could into several vials. With that she left eager to exam the blood closer. If it turned out to be the same poison what could that mean? And if it wasn’t the Cult behind the murder, then who?

Woot! The first post!

Welcome! Welcome! My unknowing little pawns! < Enter mad laughter here >. Hello everyone, the purpose of this blog is plan and simple I want to get better at writing. That's it! Well not really. To achieve that end I plan to post on anime giving reviews or previews as well as video games. I'm also just starting to write a fantasy novel

( A guy who cant write is doing a novel, I sense a problem ) and I'll be posting parts here for your enjoyment

( or at least I hope it will be enjoyable). On a last note I love feed back if you like my work let me know! My ego loves to be inflated. And if my stuff sucks feel free to criticizes it, just as long as its constructive or at least attempts to be. < Insert some epic rock ending here >

P.S. To get some starter content here I'll post some random RP stories I've written, these are based on the MMOs World of Warcraft and Age of Conan. Enjoy! ( aren't exclamation points fun!)