The Terrible Tales of a Tiny Terror - M Stories

The poor journal had been through many adventures that had left it a little bit mauled, definitely stained with blood, and perhaps giving off an aura of something decidedly sinister. Unlike the gnome's notebook, the journal was not usually found on her person unless she was expecting events of great importance to occur. Instead, it rested in her travel bag, usually settled on above the expandable tent but below the world atlas. Within found be found, of course, her writings and travel logs; some far more eventful than the next. A large X had been drawn through several pages, seeming to cover the time from September of the fall prior through the end of April the next spring. Picking up where she'd left off, M has been updating it with scraps of information laid out in utter disorganization. 

((M's own writings will appear here, as well as stories and her voice recordings. And sometimes pictures of things I find on the internet.))

(Her writing is a bit neater in Gnomish and far more grammatically correct.)

Experiment Log Page 133

Name: Shadow-Electric Mind Spanning Cage

Details:

It worked. Titans know how but it worked. S. and I were stunned. I never expected any of this to work

how in the name

i need to write

will they be angry

The rats aren't in pain despite my fears. They actually like me according to S. because I take such good care of them. They like being inside, out of the cold, with all the food they could ask for. I think I might keep them as pets. I'm sure Kixa will be thrilled. 

The direhorn runt not as much.

I think I've finally achieved something great enough to fit for a proper last name. This temporary one was wearing a bit...offensively lately. Something with

oh

I got it.

Mindspanner. 

M. Mindspanner. 

Once the Servitors know about my research, I'll announce the name change. The gnomes will understand, of course. It's tradition. 

I still can't believe it.

I'm a damn genius. 

-M.

(M I N D S P A N N E R)

Kixa was restless as she climbed into bed. M understood her feelings perfectly, although it didn't help her pain in the slightest. As the little gnome finally relented in the struggle, curling up beneath her sheets embroidered with gears and arclight spanners, M took a few steps back to settle into the rocking chair to just watch. Her guilt weighed heavily on her heart as she stared at her child, her highest goal in life, her reason for being.

If I end up controlled tonight, will you still trust me after? she wondered. It was a genuine risk. Entering the mind of a powerful, brilliant techno-shadow-possessor was a terrible risk even without any innocent casualties. M knew the easiest way to her was to threaten the closest thing to her and, this time, that was her beautiful, happy child. It was agony to think about putting her at risk. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could come between her and her child. She would rather die, rather leave Kixa to the next person willing to adopt, than risk the child facing any hurt. 

"Than' th'Titans for Sylaess," she mumbled to herself, reaching for the tiny scrap of parchment at her side. "I'mma owe her several at th'end of this, I thin'."

The paper was covered in runes, clearly written by a Death Knight as their purpose was primarily to shield the mind, not the body. M pressed it first to her heart, then to her forehead, and shuddered as the paper dissolved at her touch. Perhaps it would not shield her against everything but, for now, it would be enough. Once she understood the Needle's power, how he attacked, she could ward more specifically. This time, though, she was entering the conflict blind. It was something she'd done before but never with such a weight hanging on her.

"...no matter what," she whispered in Gnomish, bending over her sleeping child. "I love you, Kixa. I love you so much."

And in a rush of dark armor and shadow, she was gone.

It was all too easy not to care, to shut her heart and adopt that callous mask. She'd had years of practice, after all, at being cold. To slip back to those old habits was so terribly tempting. Yet in her mind, their faces were burned so that even as she paced along the rooftop of the Keep, she still saw them. The fat, jolly baker and how the corners of his eyes crinkled with his easy smiles. How the young teacher hadn't noticed bits of her hair had fallen out of place as she sat, carefully grading papers, well past her working hours. The faces of the guardsmen, some of whom she recognized at a passing glance, who loved the Keep as a member of their family. How the shaman heard the soft voices of water as he washed their clothes. Their lives had been in her mind, as it were, and she couldn't shake that feeling of solemn responsibility. 

The commander had said she'd seen terrible things for the Servitors. M countered that she'd volunteered. Both were true, yet neither was the exact truth.

She didn't dare sigh least the wrong person hear her and catch her all alone, more vulnerable in her simple blouse and pants. No matter the cost to her, what had already been paid and what she was sure would be coming, she had to save the innocent lives she'd seen. They had all been so kind, so caught up in their simple, day to day chores. None of them, she knew in her heart, would understand the sort of life she led, full of shadows and hard choices, and she desperately wished to spare them a glimpse into it. 

Two years ago, perhaps, she would have hesitated to use herself so freely, to expose herself to try and save so few civilians. Now, though, she wished she could do more. It was an ache, a physical ache, to know that such simple, kind people were in so grave of danger. It hurt worse to know that they could be made to do anything, anything under the sun, and be trapped in their minds as their bodies obeyed. 

She knew how it felt, to watch one's hands do terrible things, and even she had struggled with coping in the aftermath.

M's eyes closed momentarily and she tented her fingers, scarred lips parting to mouth a desperate saying.

Protect or die. 

Let me save them.

No matter how exhausted she was, she knew she had to get her thoughts out somehow, and with her daughter currently using her stomach as a pillow, voice recording was out of the question. Reaching for her journal and a pencil, she grimaced at how sluggishly her body responded. She'd given too much today, had pushed her mind too hard too fast, and it was catching up swiftly. Still, she supposed, it could have ended far worse. She'd not only done very well, managed to get away with cussing the entire guild out, and gained important information, she'd done it all while sustaining no injuries. It was a first, as far back as she could remember. Smirking to herself, she set pencil to paper and began.

I think I got too emotional.

      I kind of yelled at Jo. She did deserve it. I still yelled, though. And punched a wall. My stump hurts.

Oops.      I guess I'm still angry. 

                                        I guess I'm not surprised. I haven't let that side come out since he brought me back. 

        I would have been more shocked if that side had gone away. I guess I just have more to hide.

I almost told her too much tonight.

                Almost

Thank the Titans I didn't. I've only talked to her a few times. 

                   Not enough times to trust her enough. 

       Not enough times to know what she'd say. 

I like her, though. There's something about her. A darkness. A past. Hints of a different person down underneath.

The others are too easy. They're upfront. Even when they hide things, they're obvious about it. 

            If you truly want to hide your past, you can't dangle it in front of others. 

                              The gnomes I don't know besides Chief, though. The bird one is interesting but absent. 

The elves are straightforward. The draenei is like me. Like how I was, more like. She's solid enough. 

     The dwarf could be of interest, but. Dwarves. 

But her. 

    She's unique. 

             A puzzle.

I like puzzles. 

This is sounding creepier than I'd like it to. I am not about to stalk her. I just want to figure out who she really is. 

     Her accent did her away. The second I noticed it slipping she was done for, really. She just doesn't know it yet.

              I'll have to talk to her more. See if I can trust her. 

                      Honestly?

                                  I would love to be able to.

I think that's it for tonight. 

Needle's dead. I saved my experiment. His Master is next, of course, but that will take time I think. I need to think about what I saw.

I ask the Titans for no nightmares tonight, with Kixa sleeping with me. 

She doodled a small gear onto the bottom of the page, a nostalgic smile on her lips. It had been so many months since she'd used her old seal. Seeing it again was like seeing an old friend's signature. Shaking her head gently, she closed the book and set it and the pencil aside. Soon would come planning and research and careful thought but for now, she could let herself relax again and no longer be so closed. Oddly enough, she found herself looking forward to it.

Twilight's Hammer. Need to contact 

                     They might know more about devouring souls. Rituals. Or know of people asking about rituals. Those suspicious fiends. Hah.

          Syl, too? Doubt it though. She was never involved in that shit as far as I can see.

    So then maybe just my old friends. They've seen me come back from the dead so many times. Doubt they'll be surprised, to be honest. They've probably been expecting it.

            If any of them are still alive. Hope to the Light at least one is. I don't remember names but I know where the shrine is. I'll find them there one day or another. Perhaps tonight. The rituals are usually on the weekends. More time off of normal day jobs and normal lives. 

                        Maybe that shadow worgen from last night knows things, too. If he's associated with that sort of power, and those sorts of people. 

           -fro  frovel   fr    virgin ears saw too much, i think, and he might be getting ideas

                                   i need to keep an eye on him

             Who knows, maybe the elf, too. Siirto? I think.

                                                     Who else do I know that knows about souls

             Too bad the witch is dead. Hah, I slay me. I slew her, too. 

                                                                 Actually  my people did, I was half dead. 

                                                                                                       And a mind slave, so no claim at all on that one.

Kait. But she's gone. Light knows where, but I hope she's happy. She buried me. I should stay buried to her.

                       It's time to return to Stormwind again. Lurk at the usual haunts for this type. The Lamb. The Pig, perhaps. Maybe the Recluse. Going to get a lot of side eyes for this. Hope it'll be worth it.

             I just hope I won't have to pay it in blood. 

Duskwood, too, perhaps. Raven Hill, too, and Darkshire. Maybe even Deadwind.

                 I need to mix another round of potions. I'm exhausted and my head hurts so bad from this morning. Titans be, she's a powerful one. That mind could wreck mine if she let it. 

                   Luckily I'm trusted. 

                                  I'd probably be insane if I wasn't. 

Order: Lamb, Pig, Cathedral Square (funnily/sadly enough), Raven Hill, Darkshire. 

     And the entire time, also make contact with the Hammer. Again. Round five. 

If they're not on

               D R A E N O R

SHADOWMOON VALLEY

NEW ORDER: LAMb, pig, cathedral square, raven hill, darkshire, shadowmoon valley

                 can't forget those orcs, you know

    can't forget them at all

                   I wonder if Chogal (ChoGall? Cho'gal? Eh) is leading the Hammer still. 

                               Probably

                                             i should find them, too, and see if the old Hammer's with the new one

                                                                         and then figure out how the hell to explain my sources to the Servitors

'yeah i just talked to some cultist friends of mine' is definitely not going to fly

                       titans help me

                               i think i'm gonna need it this time

in other news

  no promotion yet

              ah well maybe i need two fights under my belt

                                      three fights, actually

i didn't rank up anyone till they'd proven their fighting worth in bittersteel so i understand 

                     honestly the only reason i'd like to is so i can show off the tabard, really

                                              i wonder how many i'm gonna go through

heh

((This is the format of M's voice recordings, for those of you playing along at home.))

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of waves. A distant seagull's cry. M sounds tired and her words are heavy. 

I don' like it, man. I don' much like it at all. I been thinkin' about it since yesta'day...since befo', really, but y'know. Still. Yesta'day cemented a lotta shi' fo' me an' now I gotta think alla it out.

A long, sad sigh. 

I don' like this. Shi', I'm repeatin' myself already. Mm. So th'commanda'-...factually, wha' happened was tha' he tried t'set a trap for Needle an' failed. Factually, he didn' tell any've us about it. Those're th'facts. Th'straight up, no bullshi' no lie, absolutely wha' happened. Now here's my spin on this shi'.

Throughout, her tone grows more frustrated and heated. 

He -kno'- who is an' who ain' Needled. Knew. Fuck. He knew. He -knew-. I -tol'- him. I saved as many of th'people as I could, Titans' mercy I could'a done mo' tho', but fuck, man. He could'a tol' any fuckin' memba' of th'Servitors his plan, had it go down somewhere...not at th'Keep. Had alla us on guard, waitin', ready. I could'a -tol'- him who was safe. Fuck, man, -he- could'a put th'damn cage on he head an' saw it fo' himself. It ain' work jus' fo' my brain, Syl used it with th'rats! Even if I -wanni'- ever involved, he could'a had th'fuckin' guild checked t'make sure they weren' poked an' then tol' them th'important shi'!

An explosive, frustrated sound, followed by the sound of something heavy plunking into deep water. 

Fuck.

Deep breaths, Mottie. Deep breaths. 

I ain' mad. I ain' mad-

Y'kno' wha'?

I'm fuckin' mad, man, y'know why? B'cause people -died-. People fuckin' died. I wouldn'a cared if th'bomb had gone off an' no one been hurt. No one -died- t'make it happen. I could'a overlooked him puttin' his own neck on th'line, I done it myself befo'. Shi', if th'dwarf lady's healed n'shi', I can look pas' tha' one, too. But th'fuckin' bombers. 

Th'. Fuckin'. BOMBERS.

MAN, THA'S SOME REAL SHI' RIGH' THERE. I KNEW THEIR CONNECTIONS. I KNEW WHA'D HAPPENED WHEN THEY WEREN' THERE NO MO'. TWO PEOPLE -DIED- THA' DIDN' HAFTA DIE B'CAUSE I COULD'A FUCKIN' SAVED'M IF I'D BEEN GIVEN ONE MO' FUCKIN' DAY. 

ONE MO' FUCKIN' DAY, MAN, COMMANDA' COULDN'A GIVEN ME THA'? 

There's a scream of rage, then the impact of two hard things, at speed. 

FUCKIN'-

I WAS PLANNIN' ON DOIN' IT THA' NIGH', I WAS GONNA ASK'M WHEN HE GOT DONE WITH HIS STORE ROOM WHA'EVER SHI' IF I COULD HAVE ONE MORE GO, BUT NAH, MAN.

CAN'T TRUS' TH'FUCKIN' ROGUE T'HANDLE SHI'.

CAN'T TRUS' TH'FUCKIN' NEW KID.

Repeated grunts as the impacts continue. It's likely she's hitting something. These continue for nearly thirty seconds until her breath hitches. She continues in a more broken, vulnerable tone.

...I jus' wanna save th'people. I don' wanna see'm die t'things tha' could'a been avoided. Averted. They civilians, man. They don' gotta be caught up in our grimdark angstlord bullshi' drama. It's bad enough when they emotionally hurt. Mentally an' physically tho'...tha's some shi'. An' when they -die-?

Titans, they jus' wanna make they livin' sellin' cows or wha'ever, they don' wanna die fo' some glorious cause, don' wanna be some noble sacrifice tha' 'had t'be made' or wha'ever people tellin' theyselfs these days.

They jus' wanna fuckin' live.

An' alla us who live these weird-ass, abnormal lives...our job is t'make sure they can keep wakin' up an' goin' to those jobs. They wha' support us. Always.

Another sad sigh. She suddenly sounds utterly exhausted. 

Titans. I'm gettin' soft in my ol' age.

A snicker.

Silence.

The candles gave a soft glow to the otherwise cold rock of the shrine, lighting the way for the faithful to find their alter. In the dim twilight, it looked, to her, beautiful, even more so than the vaulted ceilings and tiled floors of the Cathedral. Although roughly made, the shrine held its own rustic appeal, and seemed out of place amid the light wood that lay past Stormwind’s lower lake. Fog clung to the area, a dull mist that seemed to grow thicker closer to the grey rock structure. It was this mist that kept her from fearing prying eyes, as it clung to her like a shroud, taking her in. 

As always, the area was empty. She remembered a time when she could count on seeing a soul or two wander past, or see freshly laid offerings upon the alter, yet not even dried leaves graced the rocks now. It was sad to see it so abandoned, so forgotten. Yet, even if most disciples were dead, or renounced, no god can be truly without followers. Smoothly, she knelt before the gathering of stone, bowing her head in reverence. A chill brushed over her and she knew her presence was known, was understood, if not by the high ones, then by one of their eyes. 

The bladed shoulders were the first to go, set neatly to her right, just in front of her bent knee. It was easy to shirk her dagger belt after, now that the blades had shoulders to rest on so as to not touch the dirty ground. Swiftly after came gloves, then the second set, revealing the brace that held her near-useless fingers in place. Now came the challenge, as her metallic fingers clicked against the metal of the brace as she began to undo the straps holding it to her left arm. Slowly, with great care, she pulled each finger free, revealing them in their misshapen, wrecked state. Burns had claimed every inch of her skin from her elbow down, warping flesh and bone alike. Without the brace holding her hand in place, it formed a disfigured claw. Averting her gaze, she shirked her boots, with her legguards following. All that remained, now, was her chestguard. After a moment of hesitation, the laces along its side were undone and it fell to join the rest.

Goose bumps erupted across what parts of her skin were not marred with scarring and burns. The chill had grown more intense, she felt, or perhaps she was not used to feeling the air on her skin. She shifted so she rested on both knees, legs tucked beneath her bare legs. It was perhaps a trick of the light, but the alter’s flames seemed to dim yet the stone itself shone all the brighter for it. Her eyes were unfocused, though, and pinned on the central candle that did not flicker despite the soft gusts of wind that touched the others. Recalling the words as if from a dream, she began to speak.

“Qwaz qov agth’vorzz zaix, ez’Shath’Yar.” The language was unlike any other, carrying with it the most sinister, resonating quality. “Sk’yeh’glu nuq hoq.”

"Ywaq ma phgwa'cul hnakf,” came the softest reply. They are the whisper on the shivering wind.

Cold touched her face as a breeze came down from the mountains like a rocket, extinguishing all the candles save the central one, which kept alight despite all obstacles. She shivered with the chill, tucking her arms closer to her sides in vain to ward off the cold. It felt like it had permeated her very core, freezing her blood, her bones, her heart. Locking her gaze on the last candle, she forced out a breathless whisper.

“Hoq’qam,” she pleaded, eyes widening. “-ilfah plahf hoq.”

“Ag’uovssh,” the wind said. We waited.

The mist gathered more closely, becoming a thick grey barrier that closed her off from the world. It was soft, like a welcoming blanket, yet concrete like a bunker’s wall. She thought she saw shapes in the mist, large things that yet held no threat to her. They were there for her, indeed; they were there to guide her passage. Her torn lips twisted into a smile as the last candle erupted into a violet flame.

"Lilth vwah, uhn'agth fhssh za," she whispered to the night. Where one falls, many shall take its place.

"Ywaq maq oou; ywaq maq ssaggh,” came the reply from its mouthless ‘face’ as it bent to gently take her hand. “Ywaq ma shg'fhn." They do not live, they do not die. They are outside the cycle.

The words felt warm to her, like a hug or long sought after praise. She repeated them softly, slowly, as if tasting the words themselves. “Ywaq maq oou; ywaq maq ssaggh. Ywaq ma shg’fhn.”

They do not live.
      They do not die.
             They are outside the cycle.

The sound of seagulls. Waves lapping against the shore. She sounds calm, quiet, thoughtful.

He as weird as I am. Well...maybe not completely, but fuckin' close to it. Mos' people prolly side eye th'fuck outta him an'  not trus' him but-...I dunno. S'nice, havin' a sorta kindred spirit aroun', even if no one else kno' about it. I f'one ain' sayin' a damn word 'bout nothin' he say. I keep secrets. I'll take it to th'grave unless he say I can do otha'wise.

...these otha' motha'fuckas tho'. Imma hafta warn him. Imma write righ' now, actually. Tell'm. 'k, how this soun'? 'Watch who you tell yo' shit to, people talkin' behin' backs here. Droppin' hints. My lips are sealed. I promise. M.'

The crinkling of parchment. A snicker. 

He gonna side eye th'fuck outta this letta' but if it keeps his shi' secret an' safe, tha's prolly fo' th'betta'. Shi', -Imma- hafta watch who I tell shi' to. Someone prolly already droppin' hints to th'otha's, sayin' how 'ohhh you kno' this gnome ain' like th'otha's?'

Fuck'm, really, y'kno'. Fuck'm. It ain' they place t'stick they nose in otha' people's business. Especially they personal business. It don' impact th'guild, so why botha'? So lon' as I can keep stabbin' th'people they point me at, there ain' no pro'lem. If he keep stabbin' people they poin' him at, too, wha's th'issue he weird, too?

But maybe I jus' mo' open minded about this. He said even Roiya wanni' as concerned 'bout him as I am. She prolly mo' worried 'bout his physical shi'. I worried 'bout his brain. I kno' what s'like, kinda. Not exactly but...close. Besides, I th'only one here who can empathize with any've this sorta weird ass shi'. He say he rememba' dyin'? I rememba' dyin'. I rememba' th'las' split second as she brought down th'Titan keystone thing t'break my spine. I rememba' her daggers slitting my throat an' my wrists.

I rememba'.

She falls silent for nearly a solid minute. The recorder adjusts, recording the background noise until she speaks again. 

...I wonda' if he rememba' how he died. Imma ask next time we do th'question game. I gotta few question mo' for him, altho' he say he don' got any mo' fo' me. Which's weird. I'd have a lotta mo' questions. He did ask some...deep ones, I guess you could call'm. Th'las' one-...I can still feel it, heh. 

It ain' somethin' I like questioning myself.

I guess it's payback fo' my proddin' questions, wha' I made him admit.

...s'fo' his own good tho', I'd already guessed it myself eva' since I kno'.

A laugh of rather grim amusement. 

Syl's righ'. It's th'fact tha' I care so much tha' kills me in th'end. But this time aroun', I learn my lesson. I ain' gonna fight it. I jus' gotta be ready for when th'hurts come.

-an' here comes Kixa with a frog. Ah fuck, three frogs. Shit, no wai-...put those back!

A click. Silence.

"Abomination."
...I was one, I am one...
"Lesson."
...I taught her she deserved nothing...
"You are dead to me."
...should've stayed dead...

The words kept looping through her mind, each feeling like a punch to the gut in turn. M stared blankly as she gripped the stone of the bench with both hands to keep herself from doubling over completely. It was all she could do not to cry, to scream, to laugh in her fury. Even with the emotions coming as if through a veil, it was still all too much. She could feel the wild laughter rising and couldn't muster enough resistance to fight it.

"Abomination."

M tilted her head back as she laughed, sinking down to kneel at the edge of the seat, as if it was some empty alter. The cool stone felt good on her forehead as she leaned into it, shaking.

"Lesson."
I am a lesson that she deserves nothing.
I am a lesson that anyone can betray.

Her laughter caught in her throat, tearing out of her as a sob instead. It was bitter indeed to be such a lesson to the person she trusted the most and who trusted her so deeply in return. She had been willing to die for her, to risk spending all eternity in a prison of Arcane to protect her, and still believed that she would if the duty called. Perhaps, giving her life to save Elu would redeem herself in the druid's eyes. M's smile was a twisted, ugly thing.

"You are dead to me." 

She was dead. That meant nothing to the elf, though, the shadows of the past held far more sway; the unforgivable sins and the terrible agony of the truth. M knew the pain well. Indeed, she knew the pain even better now, as she gasped for air between racking sobs and furious screams. If she had been her old self, she would've wanted to kill, to cause someone else to feel the pain she was. Now, however, she just wanted to last, to endure the pain and learn from it. 

"You are dead to me."

Of everything that had been said, the elf's near final words had been the most painful of blows. They hadn't spoken long, but the damage had been done. M was dead to the one person she'd trusted when she couldn't trust herself. Dead to the closest friend and confidant she could have ever wished for. Dead to the best second-in-command she could have found for herself. She was dead. Her anger mixed with her anguish, ripping furious and terrible sounds from her throat. M had never expected being dead to hurt so intensely.

"You are dead to me."

She wanted it to end, yet there was no escape. No alcohol could erase her pain now, no drugs could make her forget. All there was to do was to blast her way through, to hold on until it ended, finally. She just hoped it would end someday, that she could prove to the elf worthy of her friendship again. To prove to herself that she was worthy of it, that she had changed for the better despite the circumstances. And then, perhaps, someday, even if it was twenty years down the line or a century, she could be trusted again.

"Abomination."

M sighed, wiping her eyes and forcing the sobs to remain in her chest. Perhaps she had no chance again, perhaps she was unworthy of friendship and of trust. That was more likely the truth, after all she had done, all she had hidden. Her mask returned to its proper place on her face, hiding how her lips held no trace of happiness and how her cheeks were still damp. If there was one boon to her circumstances, it was that emotions came through slowly to her mind. She could put on a brave face and pretend everything was as fine as it had been an hour ago. 

She was a rogue, after all, and it was her job to lie.

In the distance, a bell tolls nine times. She sounds tired and grimly amused.

T'day was-...t'day was a fuckin' -day-, man. Hoooly shi' it was a fuckin' day. I don' even kno' how t'put it inta words. It was-...terrible an' great all at th'same time, I thin'? I'm-...m'still tryin'a figure alla it out. 

A soft sigh, then a snicker. 

So Fro's fucked up. Like he kinda worse'n me in some ways, t'be hones', altho' he a lucky ass motha'fucka' t'avoid bein' undead. He was tho', which's wha' I don' unnerstan'. I-...m'jus' tryin' not t'be jealous, really. If he was dead, but returned t'life-...no. I ain' goin' down tha' route. I ain' gonna. I'm better'n tha'.

-anyways. Fro's weird. I'm weird. Roiya knows exactly how I'm weird, too, now. They both kno'-...a lotta th'old shi' I don' really tell people cause I don' got reason to. They ain' really secrets-...well th'undead one's a secret, but th'Theramore one? Nah. I jus' don' have much reason t'go aroun' singing off th'rooftops tha' I used t'be a shadow priest until tha' Ligh'-blasted mana bomb looked at me th'wron' way.

Her tone grows more soft as she continues. 

...Fro almos' said he hated Knights b'cause they undead. I was gonna hit'm, straight up pop to th'family jewels. Maybe not righ' then, but later. Prolly th'next day. He stopped himself in time, tho'. Good fo' him t'realize his words befo' he said'm. Not everyone does tha' in this charmin' Alliance these days. He smart tho'. Kinda. Sucks at situational awareness but he ain' stupids. 

Heh. He got two people in there, he betta' not be fuckin' stupids. Man, I'd give him endless shi' if he was tho'. 

"You got an extra set've experience in there, use it y'tree brain!"

...I'll hafta rememba' tha' one fo' later.

She falls silent. A minute passes. Two soft sighs escape her. 

We passed through Theramore. I-...Ligh', I hadn' been there since...since tha' day. I saw th'blast, a'course. Saw how th'chunks of white stone from th'walls soared up. I didn' look back while me'n Remizi ran fo' it tho'. T'come face t'face with th'devestation...dear merciful Titans it was all I could do t'pretend I didn' see th'dead on th'bridges, hear the screams as th'zeppelin came over. Hear tha' Ligh'-damned sound of it detonate. 

...I fought on those bridges. I saw men die on those bridges, orcs die, Forsaken die, goblins die. Everyone, die, die, die. Ligh', I still have dreams about it sometimes. I hadn' eva' seen war like tha' before. I...Ligh'. Tha' day. Tha' day changed -everythin'-.

There's another long silence. Her sighs are quicker, but heavy, like she's holding back emotions through them. 

...tha's enough thought on tha'. I don' need t'remember. Every day I rememba' wha' it feels like t'have yo' magic still powerful inside'a you with nowhere t'go. T'be a fallen priestess. T'know I ain' ever gonna be able t'go back now. Especially now. Fuck, th'Ligh' won' even touch me.

...fuck.

Mn.

Nah. Nah, m'gonna move alon'. Heh. So. There a new druid sorta guy in th'guild. Catman. Altho' I like him so I'm prolly gonna stick t'his name. Anyways. So he kinda like E-...kinda like some otha' druid sorts I kno'. They get all sneaky like cats do. We gonna make a team. I actually asked him instead'a jus' straight up insisting, which I thin' is an improvement. He seemed pretty all for it tho', too. Maybe it made'm feel mo' welcome?

I dunno. I like how he think from wha' I seen, an' he ain'-...mm. He ain' like th'rest've them. He quiet, too. He watches. I like tha'. Maybe we can be creepers t'gether. Who knows, man.

Leas' I made a new frien'. M'doin' pretty good at tha' these days. S'fuckin' weird. Apparen'ly these people trus' me easily. Weirdos. Leas' I'm on their side, heh. It'd be...really bad otha'wise.

...I jus' hope we all stay on each otha's sides.

Silence.

*Quite abruptly, her handwriting is neat and tidy, although her Common still hasn't improved.*

I am writing this in Comon to try and get a bettr hang of it. Probably won't work to well but oh well. I will re-learn it eventualy.

    so she finishd my arm
                  its beautiful to be honest, absolutely perfect
            gnomeregan colors, so much more precis and fast to respond

i think my first test run at using it went quite well
    i mean she certainly enjoyd it

heh

         in othr news i prov once again that gnoms are good with their fingrs

*a large  is drawn beneath*

..*added several minutes later, in a different colored ink*..

         it mean we fuckd
              in cas someone is reading this after Im dead and is curius
heh

Music can be heard in the background, although it's faint as if coming from a distance. There's a long few moments of silence between when the recording begins and when she actually begins to speak. 

So I didn' eva' expect t'sorta fall fo' someone again. This ain' somethin' I been tryin'a think about but I kno' I gotta figure this shi' out so here we are, heh. So I...she...

A frustrated sigh. 

I think she's beautiful an' adorable an' I love t'see her smile an' blush an' th'look she gets when she's concentrating an'--
...m'a fuckin' dopey ass motha'fucka'. Shi'. There's jus' somethin' to her tha' I-...I love it. An' she's so determined an' can look past alla my scars an' my state an' I'm prolly th'luckies' gnome. Heh. She gorgeous, she could'a had anyone, but here we are.

...totally ruinin' my appearance as an emotionless rogue. M'not too opposed to tha' tho'. I mean...kinda, but eh. If anythin' it'll confuse people tha' I'm only frien'ly t'like a han'ful of people an' don' give much've a shi' about anyone else. I thin' I only trus' wha'-...three people with everythin'? Heh, an' none'a them's even in th'Servitors. Poor folks. 

Anyways. 

She clears her throat and snickers. 

So since I realized I'm a hopelessly romanced gnome, I been makin' th'bes' of it. I don' plan on goin' nowhere any time soon, really. She mine an' I'm hers an' we already uhh. Decided on tha'.

A rather dirty snicker. 

...Ligh' tho' all I wanna do is be able t'go back to th'house or her apartmen' an' jus' curl up an' feel how warm she is, how alive, how soft. An' I wanna play with her hair an' cuddle until she falls asleep an' I migh' not even min' not bein' able to myself.

I'm done for. 

Ligh' help me, m'so sunk. I like bein' sunk. But I'm so sunk.

Smitten, I thin' is th'word for it. Yep. M'fuckin' smitten. Tha' asshole. Fuckin' smitin' me. Shi'.

...I thin' I smited her too tho'. She smitten. She so cute.

M'gonna go like chop some logs or somethin' t'feel less gushy.

A snicker.
Silence.

Purple; it was everywhere and everything. Bands of neon purple energy spanned the vast, cloudless sky, while the purple ground clung to the bottom of her boots as soft purple dust. Even the traditional white walls of the goblin town reflected the sky’s purple glow, appearing a pale lavender as they loomed above her. She thought with distaste that she matched well, down to the gleaming eyes of her skeletal mask.

“Whazzup?”

Being one of the only visitors to the shell of a former boom town certainly had its drawbacks and one of those was immediate attention. Effecting a slight sigh, she turned her head to stare down the off duty engineer. 

“Passing through on business,” she replied smoothly, enunciating through the natural muffling of her hood and mask. “Would the inn have spare beds?”

That was a question pointedly for making small talk alone and, it seemed, they both knew it. The goblin laughed and waved his hand towards the largest of the buildings. A faint, flickering glow came from within and she could just make out a few figures sitting around the fire. Good, she thought. She had not been late.

“Ain’ no one comin’ up through here missy, unless they’re here on business,” he said, cackling. “Don’t kill anyone, guards will beat you down good.”

As she worked her way towards the inn, mindful to walk casually as she felt the eyes watch her, she smirked under her mask. Death was one of the kinder fates one could meet on this ruin of a planet. She’d seen enough, and heard worse, to avoid angering any parties who could potentially deliver a ‘worse.’ The scent of cooking meat met her partway to the inn, filling her mind with images of grilled steaks and skewered legs. Scowling, she sniffed as she stepped into the inn and paused.

Three were seated in chairs pulled away from the central table to the fireside and only one she’d expected to find. Silhouetted, the Ethereal cast a bizarre shape, appearing in the right light to be an animated bundle of floating bandages when the flames gleamed bright enough to match its usual glow. Next to it was an empty chair, belonging to a one-eared goblin, currently working on turning an odd looking rotisserie system built into the firepit, made clearly from scrap metal and re-purposed parts. The blood elf looked normal compared to the two, relaxing in his chair and enjoying the attention his small nether ray gave him. None of the trio noticed her until she was but a few feet behind the goblin’s currently empty chair.

“--Prynne Shadowblade, do not presume to slither in like a thief in the night.” The Ethereal stood and turned, offering a slight nod which she smoothly returned. “How long it has been since we last spoke,” he continued, his voice echoing within his body. “Are your companions well?”

“Quite fine, those that survive,” she replied, neglecting to mention that she was the only one not imprisoned or dead. “How is business treating you, Dealer Zahiid?”

“Come come, now,” Zahiid said, gesturing to a chair still left by the table. “Take a seat, my dear gnome, and do not rush into business so swiftly. There is always time to catch up with an old acquaintance.”

((Instead of actually posting the story this time, I'm just going to provide the link to it on her tumblr. GORE CONTENT WARNING! If you're easily squicked out by, say, rotting flesh then you might want to skip this one.))