Tired

((There's like one or two curses, figured I'd drop the post down below the break just to be safe.  Sorry kids no mature language filter here!))

Her sandals scuff on the ivory streets of Silvermoon as she twirls her necklaces charm mindlessly. Countless thoughts and memories have been flooding into her mind slowly like a sponge taking in water.  Looking up after every minor faded thought vanishes keeps her from running into a lamp or post.  Tired eyes look to the blood stain on her robe as she sighs heavy as his face hits her mind, like he is the stone that just hopped into her pond of thoughts and mucked up everything! * Rude *

“Do not buy wyverns from a goblin, and do not follow an elf, got it?” The elf’s black eyes bored into Moshir’s, her haughty smirk tainted with a bit of concern.  It was, perhaps, his own fault; he had likely not been the first to buy that cursed beast, or the first it had left stranded and alone.  They climbed out of the ravine, the twisted remains of the fel orcs that had attacked them disappearing from view.

She had answered many of his questions and given him much wisdom as they walked through the dark, dusty paths of Hellfire.  There were many dangers, but they both were well-protected.  The troll’s guardian spirits gave him strength to weaken those who would come against them.  The elf’s magics seared the flesh of demon and orc alike.  The screams were swiftly made silent; whether cries of battle, fear, or pain, it did not matter.

-Image Below Break-

He sat at the warm fire, looking about at the Soldiers. The flames flickered quietly before them..there wasn't much conversation. They each spooned into the warm slop that was prepared for them. He himself wasn't very hungry...he'd lost his appetite as he looked at the wounded men he sat with, most of them expected to go back into battle. One had his arm in a sling, he simply was going to strap his shield on to that...he wouldn't make the night. His glowing blue eyes peered to the next one, his eye more or less gouged, bandaged over. Blind to one side...an easy kill for a novice blademaster. His heart sank. 

...A mute...

...And a Warlock...

...A new chance...

...A new hope?...

...

...A long conversation about relationships...

...A quiet "friend"...

...Yet another crowd...

..."It's not worth hiding these secrets if I can't learn"...

...Where has Kaetja gone?...

...

...Hands kept twitching...

...Skull kept as a reminder...

...Treachery....

...Forsaken...

...Scourge...

...

...Tired...

...Too tired to go off duty...

...Keep fighting...

...So close...

She slide down the gryphon’s back, cringing as pain rippled in her leg.  The Griffin Master reached for her arm, thinking to help steady her, instead another wave of pain bloomed in her arm.  She smiled at him through it all before moving out of the way of the next griffin.  Pittch was by her side the next instant helping her on his back, his steps going towards the Keep.

She had been in the Keep, reports in hand hours earlier, when a guard had run in a letter in his hands about a Pox in Redridge and the Dragoons presence had been requested for assistance.  She stared at the human a bit confused for a moment, before reaching for quiver and herb bags.  She thought that priests would be better for dealing with a Pox, but if a shire needed help, she was going to go.  A quick message over the guildstone about the situation, only aroused some lively cussing from the commander.

Race

            “Hurry up, ya fat fuck! I got seven kills up on you!” Elrin shouted as he sliced his way through another zombie. “Wha’ are ya takin’ a nap, ol’ man?”

            Hron’s heart thudded in his chest. Thump thump thump. The joints in his arms and legs were on fire. They had been at it for almost six hours, just killing wandering undead. The pains were the worst, here in Icecrown. The ghouls didn’t help, either, of course.

(( Originally posted September 22, 2006 @ RealmPortal ))

I worry and I fear. It's what I do. Pointlessly, sometimes, but they... don't know what can be done with a shard. And I can't explain it to them. I'm not sure why; it's not like they trust me anyway.
It's all right; I understand. I just forget sometimes, that's all.

But I couldn't risk her losing herself like that again. Can't do another Moonwell ceremony. It'll kill me, I think, and no matter what I said last night, I can't let that happen, not yet. I promised Sakti.

Two precious souls in my care. Identical shards for such different people. Need to get them both back where they belong. Soon, I think.

With a heavy breath Lorith collapsed against the trunk of the moist tree trunk, not caring how the spongy ground beneath seeped dampness through her cloak. Tanner, whining softly, padded around her, his ears turning to listen in every direction before he laid down beside her, panting heavily. Lorith's hands were to her face, covered with sweat and muck, her hair plastered back at her temples, a deep gash across her cheek stinging and oozing dark blood. She sniffled, held back a sob, then exhaled deeply, at last allowing her tense muscles to relax, one at a time, so that her legs stretched out uneasily before her, and her hands fell to her sides, her sullied features turned to the sun filtering through the mossy tree limbs.