(This is my first ever fan fic! Been a good long while since I've written anything at all. Please feel free to critique!)
CHAPTER ONE – We Got Ourselves a Wild One
The inn was crowded, as usual. Laughter and insults spread like wildfire and no one took it to heart. That was the kind of atmosphere in Dalaran—warm, welcoming, and full of magic. A human female laughed heartily at a crude gesture from an orc warlock. Instead of causing a ruckus, the girl cupped her left breast to give it a gentle squeeze. This brought more uproarious laughter. The heady scent of alcohol and deeper things lingered in the cool air. It was always chilly, even in the magical city, and this night was no different. Penelope dropped her hand from her large breast only to raise it to her lips. Blowing kisses to random Horde members was always entertaining, especially if they were drunk. The world's problems and squabbles were not her own, at least in her meager opinion. If she wanted to consort with the opposing faction, or kill them, that was her own business.
The woman with her curling ebony locks that shone bright even in the moonbeams took notice of the gathering guards. Though a sanctuary, Dalaran was famous for its bar brawls and under-the-city dealings. It was no surprise when a paladin, draenei she could tell from the tentacles, threw a punch to an uppity Tauren death knight. She wrinkled her small nose in disgust, seeing the Tauren's chilling icy gaze land on her just before he hit the floor. Death knights... The bane of the world. Traitors, murderers, irredeemable. Penelope rose from the wooden bench that had become a sore to her backside and took one last downing drink of her dwarven-made beer.
"G'night ladies!" Most turned and waved with a laugh and a wink, some simply scowled at the woman. Can't please 'em all. With that thought, the huntress stumbled out of the doorway and bumped into a nearby guard. She let out a cry of surprise when he bumped back into her, knocking her right on her plump ass.
"Excuse the hell out of you!" Her voice was full of indignation and annoyance. She knew she was drink, and so did the guard. He could smell it all over her person. The blood elf pointed down the street toward the Alliance designated inn.
"Excuse yourself right over there. We do not permit drunkards to walk our streets." The guard's voice was hollow, and yet managed to be callous at the same time. She glared at the man before taking in a deep breath to steady herself. Not bothering with an answer, Penelope turned and began her trek back to the inn she was currently staying at. Uppity long-eared feminine fruitcake. A small fit of giggles bubbled up from her throat as she meandered this way and that. She rubbed at her tired, hazel colored eyes all the while yawning loudly. It had to be only two hours til dawn she figured by the track of the moon. Tracking things was her... well, thing.
A few moments later, and another tumble or two, Penelope Jansen fell forward onto the feather bed, not even bothering with the sheets. Her lifelong companion and friend, Ircine, lay at the foot. His large head came to rest upon his mistress' left boot, large thundering purrs emitting from his furred throat. The snow leopard owned her just as much as he was hers. With hazy thoughts and a not so sober smile, Penelope moved her foot from side to side, essentially petting her loving and ferocious beast.
"Wake me just before the sun is at its highest, Irc." He would do as he was told.