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Campfire Tales

Putting up a stone rigid face, Vrisiphiel inspected the warlock in an innocuous gaze. Under the natural light, the man's hair was a shade lighter than last night. His crimson robe catching but pleasant to the eye, the silver emblems lining the collar and sleeves framing a well toned body; around the waist wore a leather belt, a curving dagger hung from it. He had his hand crossed before him, and was looking down on her with his annoyingly well presented smile.

'I trust you've had a pleasant night.' The man said. The imp stood a step behind its master, tilting its head from side to side, blinking at the passing birds with mischief. 'I was told by the Marshal that a young woman needed a hand with these kobolds, I should have thought it was you, fair lady. Perhaps we may have another drink after we're finished with them, on me, of course.'

Trying to look as casual as possible, she turned away from the man, counting the steps as she entered the mine.

'What is that supposed to mean?' The warlock sounded puzzled. 'Aren't you supposed to say something nasty? Take a jab at something I wear, something? Anything? Hey, wait up, you can't go in there alone, it's too dangerous, the place is crawling with fireballing rats.'

She turned down a side shaft, purposefully taking detours as she made her way down, and unknowingly, a smirk crept up on her. Alone in the mines, having long lost the irritating warlock in the many passages, the moist air tugged at her, the ringing of pickaxes against stone fading away, and the tunnels occupied by an eerie silence, and blue glow from the hundreds of dead bodies paving the floor. Her progress was slow, as she struggled to not get tripped up over the dead. Gnomes, dwarfs, humans. Old and young, man and woman. How many lives had perished under the pick and hammers of the kobolds. How could Stormwind tolerate such evil deeds to be done right under the watch of its golden throne.

A new darkness was coming, threatening the whole Alliance. She don't know what a lone young apprentice mage could do in such times, but she will do what is within her. The young mage retied her soft hair so they won't fall into her face and raised her staff to the ready; if her memory serves her, the geomancers should be just ahead.

Coming up against what looked like a mechanical crane, the young mage at last spotted the signatory candle glow of kobolds. There were three kobolds, two geomancer, the other a tunneler. Raising her hand open palmed at the geomancer, she began casting a frostbolt. Two seconds to cast each bolt, the geomancers haven't noticed her which meant she get the first one free. Picturing the fight in her head, she estimated she could at least kill one of the geomancers before the tunneler could get to her.

Trading ice against fire, Vrisiphiel dropped the first geomancer with little more than a scorch on her sleeve. The young woman then sent the next bolt into the tunneler, slowing it down while she gained some distance away from it. She resumed pummeling the second geomancer. Fireballs struck her, and she gritted her teeth against the agony to keep her spells up. Bolt of ice hurled in at the kobold mage, and it shrieked for a futile escape from it, its eyes rolled, and fell head first onto its comrade's cold body. The remaining tunneler snarled.

The young woman raised her staff, blocking the smashing hammer, and countered with a swing that glanced off the kobolds chest. The rat humanoid struck out once more, but she danced away and incinerated it with a fireblast.

'That was close.' Finding a spot to sit on the run down machinery, she pulled out her water skin, feeling the refreshing sensation as the cold water ran down her throat. Stretching, she leaned back. Her fingers felt a wet sticky patch, she turned about, and found four geomancers lying behind the crane, in a pool of dark blood. She blinked. From the position these kobolds were situated, it would seem they were lying in ambush when someone killed them.

Faint chuckle came from close above her. The young woman jumped to her feet, her green eyes beaming in the dark. It's the warlock again. Sitting on the arm of the crane, he gave her a thumb up. 'Brilliantly done, fair lady. I must have been blessed by the gods to have the chance in meeting you, a most entrancing lady of mesmerizing beauty and talent.'

'Are you stalking me?'

'I ask no more than to gaze upon the face of one lovely lady.' He dropped down from the crane, and offered her a fancy bow. 'And to keep her from harms way.'

Vrisiphiel stood unmoving, the only motion the blinking of her shimmering green eyes, she stared at the man, seeing the reflection of a dark haired girl within his grey eyes. The kobolds she killed were mere baits, and she surely would have been in ambushed by the hidden geomancers had the warlock not killed them, somehow.

The young woman knew she should be thankful of the warlock's help, though the man's likely motive in helping made her want to scowl. She got herself a devote admirer, and it seemed the harder she tried to avoid him, the quicker he finds her. She wanted to yell at him, or better yet, have a piece of his skin and get him to stop following her, but decided against it.

She didn't like the man, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Tilting her head slightly, she gave the warlock her most charming smile. 'You're so sweet, Ovslen.'

That was definitely not the response the sandy haired man was expecting, and it was his turn to stand thunderstruck, his grey eyes magnified and unblinking. Even his imp stopped dangling from the tip of the crane and fell to the ground.

'I'll be heading back to town now, think I've collected enough candles and killed enough kobolds to satisfy the Marshal. Catch you up later, I seems to recall you promising me a drink.' The young mage gave him a playful wink, and headed back up the tunnel.

She heard the man talkin to his imp as she left the chamber. 'Did she just said what I think she said? I'm fairly sure I wasn't dreaming.' The imp replied with a yirp, hopping on its feet. 'You know Hoply, of all the girls I've met, she I don't get.' He muttered.

'So may I at last know your name, fair lady?' Ovslen asked. Sitting opposite her, the warlock shook his mug gently in his hands, letting the foam swirl in the forming whirlpool.

The Marshal had been pleased by the news that they had slain at least thirty kobolds, a quarter of that geomancers. Unfortunately, the Marshal had no good news as such to give them, Stormwind had pulled away even more of his guards, leaving him with barely enough to patrol the roads, much less tackle the kobold infestation.

At least the merchant paid her well for the candles, some sort of alchemy trinkets which sold well to the traders. Evidently her reputation has quickly spread around Goldshire, upon entering town one tradesman going by the nickname 'Two Times' approached her, asking if she could get some gold dusts off the kobolds; a woman asked her to retrieve a lost necklace from one particular kobold named Goldtooth, how the woman came by the name of the creature was disturbing to say the least; another one, a young farmgirl even asked if the young mage could deliver a letter to her lover who just happened to be the son of the Stonefield family which is feuding with hers. Vrisiphiel turned down the farmgirl politely, she had better use of her time than as a message runner.

The red robed warlock had mysterious gotten back to the Lion's Pride before her even though she had left Fargodeep first. He had his arms crossed before him, leaning against a lantern post by the door while the hyperactive imp clawed at passing squirrels. Exchanging smiles, they found a table by the corner and each ordered a drink. The same bartender from last night had a smugly grin when he saw the two together.

The light conversation involved mainly Ovslen talking, briefly explaining his background. Born and raised in Stormwind, he apprenticed under a master warlock a week after his twenty fifth birthday. That was two years ago, and now he's traveling around the world looking for trouble.

The red robed man continued. 'I'm sure you don't want me referring to you as fair lady round every corner.'

'Vrisiphiel.' She said. 'It's kind of hard to pronounce.'

'It's a special name.' The warlock nodded gently. 'And it has a nice flow to it.'

Ovslen was a heavy drinker, already on his third drink, the talk gradually shifted to the crisis surrounding Elwynn Forest.

'I've heard from one of the guards that murlocs are swimming up the river near Eastvale, and settling camps along the banks all the way up to Crystal Lake.' The warlock said, blowing about the foam floating on his mead.

'Strange happenings, I thought murlocs tended to stay in the sea.' The light from the fireplace bathed the place in a warm glow, coloring the young mage's face with a lovely shade of yellow and red.

'They did, but rumors has it that something deep in the ocean has driven them from their ancestral grounds, and now they're coming ashore everywhere. From Westfall to Redridge, it's hard to go anywhere without having finding one of their huts. Stormwind better do something quick, or else we'll be driven from our lands by the murlocs.'

'I've heard that theory too. In a sense the murlocs are really victims though aren't they. They don't know they're the intruders here, all they know is that us humans are trying to destroy this new home they've found.' Tracing small circles on the table with the condensation from the glass, she said thoughtfully. 'The best way to solve the murloc problem would be to find out what drove them here and solve it there, then all the murlocs can go back to the ocean and we'll be able to live in peace. Trying to wipe them out from these lands would only anger them and draw even more to us.'

'We hardly got enough people to defend our homes, mounting an expedition to help the murlocs get back home is far from practical.' Ovslen said in a pained voice. 'Things must be going real bad on the Front for them to strip the home defense like this, I still can't believe they pulled out of Westfall and Duskwood completely. It's not just a problem only we're facing though, last month when I was in Ironforge, the dwarves were doing no better than us either, I cannot begin to imagine what it is like for the night elves, all the way across the world and right next door to the Hordes. But back to the dwarves, the shorties stripped their defenses down even more than us, now all over dwarven territory Troggs are coming out from the earth faster than spring grass, and the Frostmane Trolls in Dun Morogh are making a comeback. In Loch Modan things are even worse, ogres camping right in their backyard, and Dragonmaw orcs are taking over Dun Algaz, the supply line to Menethil will be severed if they can't think of a solution soon.'

'My, you have seen your share of the world.' Vrisiphiel said, slightly impressed with the man before her.

'The willing of a practitioner of the dark arts is to discover, to dwell into the darkest corners of the world and learn to wield lost knowledge and powers.' Ovslen said with renewed enthusiasm. 'To cross the flooded plains of wetlands, battling through giant crocolisks and raptorsaurus, to face against the gnoll packs of Redridge Mountains, and the raiders of Deathwind Pass. To see the burning fire atop the Westfall Lighthouse, to breath the rejuvenating forest air of Duskwood. To venture through the tomb of long dead kings, and to gaze upon the lustrous jungle of Stranglethorn.' His tone took a sharp decline. 'Well, haven't done the last one, but I will soon. In fact, we do pretty much everything you mages do, except we play with the shadows while you fiddle with the element. What say that after we've helped the Marshal out we head out across the sea and go journey the faces of Kalimdor, and see the great world tree together.'

'Sounds interesting, I'll need to think about it.' She turned her face away, and asked the passing innkeeper for something to eat, hiding her distaste for the warlock's suggestion. 'I intend to head for Eastvale tomorrow, and take a look at those murlocs. You're free to tag along if you want.' Not like anything she do will keep him away anyway, so might as well play the nice one.

Once again Ovslen look puzzled by her new change in attitude toward him. Perhaps he thought the night was just the young mage's way of saying thank you, but the pretty girl who had previous shown only disdain at his pursuit was suddenly inviting him to go with her on a travel? There had to be a catch to it. Vrisiphiel could read the thoughts scroll across the man's bewildered eyes, over the reflection of the sweet smiling girl.

Did she mean to trick him into going to Eastvale while she went the other way? Could this young mage be so annoyed with him that she's got some devious plan to drown him in the Lake? Or could his methods of repeatedly getting on her nerve struck home and finally earned him her attention?

Vrisiphiel watched her admirer's shifting expressions in amusement, her strawberry lips a coltish crescent. 'Well?'

'Thank you for the invitation, Vrisiphiel, I would love to go with you. But I think I have to make a trip to Stormwind and get some supplies.'

'Aw.' The young woman was surprised by how well she filled her voice with disappointment.

The conversation continued late into the night, till the common room was empty of customers save the young mage and warlock still chatting quietly in the corner. With the young woman listening with half pretended interest at the warlock's on going talk of arts and history.