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Zalinara's picture

Welcome to My World

Good morning, Doctor.

You don’t recognize me?  Come now, I saw the glint of recognition in your eye when you saw me yesterday.


Ah, now you remember.

No, I’m not dead, obviously. Even though you ran and left your patients to the Scourge.

Why?  Well, I can’t run the risk of someone recognizing me. My family only managed to get my death sentence suspended and being executed would be an annoying setback.

Zalinara's picture

Chasing the Moon

I know more than Apollo,
For oft when he lies sleeping
I see the stars at bloody wars
In the wounded welkin weeping.*

The paper covered most of a wall in her basement workshop. Lines swooped and swirled in confusing arcs that baffled the eye, connecting odd shapes labeled in strange characters. She stood back and contemplated her work with a frown. Something was missing.

There is a little lamb lost in dark woods …

Fedora's picture


She was lost in a vortex of snow.


The flakes, bitterly cold and wet, melted in her lashes and blurred her vision. She drew up into herself, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around her midsection. There was no comfort to be found. No shelter she could take. She was lost in the cold of Northrend and nothing could save her from its gaping maw. Swallowed up, covered over, lost in a drift and forgotten... forgotten by all.


Ariava's picture

A Day in the Life


Ariava laid a finger against the glass, tracing her reflection in slow elaborate drags. It was so short. So brown. So, not her. She looked over the image, eyes settling on the blond that was beginning to show through the roots. It gave off a soft auburn glow of deception. Daraman hadn't recognized her, Joyia hadn't either. She leaned forward inspecting the roots. She'd have to get them fixed soon.

Ixinane's picture

The Line of Stormcren pt 2: Sister Mine


The ground was cold, riddled with stony cracks where water had seeped in and turned the floor into a miniature landscape dotted with lakes.  I followed the curve of the landscape with fascination, the poison running through me made my mind wander into oblivion far to often, I couldn’t focus, but it also distracted me from the pain.  How long had I been here.. a day? A week… months.  Everything blurred together into lancing red light and voices I’ve developed a deep seeded hatred for. …


Saviero's picture

Twelve Hours Later


((Special thanks to the fine roleplayers above for a fun late night rp session. I tried to do the scene justice as much as possible without a chatlog available and only my poor memory to rely on.  If I failed, the blame is all mine.))

He walked the streets of Silvermoon like a zombie. In his mind, a slow, reverberating chant could be heard in a disturbing mockery of his own voice.

"Mana. Mana. Mana."

More more more.

Fedora's picture

A Redux

...I'm not crazy.

A book lays open...

Observationalist. Aloof. Analyst. Well dressed. Over-thinks. Over-analyzes. Speaks too much. Speaks too little. In control. Not in control. Stalker. Snake. Viper. What type of predator do I think I am?

The rest of the page repeats one word over and over...


At the bottom of the page, hastily written:

...I’m not crazy.


Janiil's picture

Magic Swords Don't Talk!


This was one of the oddest dreams Janiil could ever recall having, beyond the ones leading her to frozen star. She was walking in blackness, but a spotlight seemed to follow her about illuminating her and a few feet around her. All she could make out however was stonework an endless plain of stonework. Above her Jan could see stars and every now an then a crackle of lightning crisscrossing the sky. But everything surrounding her was just a fog of darkness.

"So serene is it not?"

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