A.N.- Alright the last chapter enjoy readers I'm gonna go and take a nap --
Campfire Tales
Using her staff as support, she climbed the steep slope, which the herbalist hut rests atop of. Acting Deputy, the young woman smiled, it wasn't working out too bad. For the past two weeks, she had helped the guards in keeping things in check in the woods. Killing kobolds, Defias rogues, wild wolves, and hungry bears. And yes, a few yucky spiders now and then, though she mainly got the warlock to kill them for her. Vrisiphiel's smile widened into a grin. She was, after all, Acting Deputy of Goldshire.
Aside from picking up the trade of herbalism and potion making, she had found the perfect way in treating her admirer. Pretending to like a guy, not enough for him to think you're ready, but enough to let him think he's on your mind, can get you a long way. Giving a sunny smile, sometimes a sweet hello was enough to keep the red robed man from pestering for a morning. Didn't mean he stopped trying to annoy her, but so long as she had a smile on her face, he wouldn't know that he was being annoying, which meant he didn't know what to do next time to annoy her.
The hut was small, with a warm fireplace, in one corner there was a table of bloody cut meat, though what use would a alchemist and herbalist have of a pile of meat chop was a question she wasn't about to ask.
'So, you take a peacebloom, crush them and mix it with some silverleaf, then you apply…' The alchemist spoke quickly, waving his hands about in exasperated movements.
'Umhm, of course, thank you.' Vrisiphiel said. 'Would you mind writing that down somewhere? Incase sometimes I forget them.' Like now. She thought. While the man turned to write down the recipes, the young mage took the time to glance through her journal for things she was supposed to do.
'Kill prowlers, done that. Scout out Jangodeep Mine, well let me take a guess, infested, but not like the Marshal can do anything about it, tick. Find missing guards, check.' She mumbled as she traced a slender finger down the page, wincing as she recalled finding the bloody remains of the guards amongst the smoldering remains of murlocs. 'Kill a pig called Princess, oh please.' She took out a quill pen and scribbled out that entry. 'Smith Argus wants some things delivered to Stormwind, ah, I can do that. And thank you.' Taking the parchment of alchemy recipes from the alchemist, she packed it away along with her notes.
If her sense of direction had not failed her, Stormwind was just a short run to the north west. She was quite surprised that she hadn't visited the capital yet, considering how close she was to it. The road was busy with traffic, humans and dwarves and the occasional gnomes, she even saw a night elf priest, and was quite captivated by his purple hair up till the moment she walked head first into him. Apologizing quickly, she watched as the night elf scampered off in darnasian curses.
Northshire may had been a disappointment to the eyes, but Stormwind was definitely not, and the young woman instant regretted not having visited it earlier the moment she stepped through its grand, ten men tall gates wide enough for twenty men abreast.
Made of white stone, the gate was connected to the front terrace in a two hundred yard long arch-bridge, with colossus statues towering over the path.
Walking through the inner gate, she was met by the bustling streets of the trade capital of the Alliance. Criers called out at the permanently passing crowd of their day's special goods, of fresh baked cheese and newly imported wines. 'Free drinks at the Blue Recluse!' The one by the fountain shouted. 'For all your supplies visit the Everyday Merchandise, you won't find prices any better than ours!' Another said, atop a pile of crates.
The wide street descended in a gradual slope, coming to a busy intersection. Across was a small square, with caravans and the Lion Heart Armory. The flow of the crowd took the left, carrying the young mage in the current of many bobbling heads. Up ahead was a fountain, next to that the marble steps which led to the Counting House, the bank of Stormwind. Clashes of metal resounded, Vrisiphiel looked about, and found a pair of weighed down warriors locked in heated duel.
'Yarl!' The taller one cried, spinning in a complete circle to build up momentum for a crushing blow. His opponent stepped back out of the way, and dashed back just as quickly, a two handed sword thrusting out with all his weight behind it, the edge glanced off the man's mail at the waist.
She wanted to stay and look, but the tide pushed her into the bank. Inside, it was a much better sight, and people could decide where they want to go, and actually be able to shoulder their way there. Vrisiphiel dropped out the current and found herself some breathing room in the corner.
There were people trading, there were people gathered in groups, commenting at each other's gear and latest ventures, and there were a long line of people waiting before the counters. She fell in behind one of the shortest lines, her bag was coming heavy, and she wondered if she could purchase a safe box to leave some valuables in.
'May I help you ma'am?' The tiller when she finally waited to the front.
'Hi em, I was wondering if I could get a bankbox?'
'Sure thing ma'am, can you please tell me your name and I'll get it for you.'
'I'm Vrisiphiel, this is my first time here, I don't have a bankbox as yet.'
'No problem ma'am, here.' The tiller placed a box on the counter. 'First one's free, you will just have to write you name down on here, and this box will be yours.' He pointed at a small tag on the side of the box. 'You'll be able to access it from any of the other banks in the world, must admit those goblins are ingenious coming up with something like the translocators.' The man showed a tired smile. 'Here you go ma'am, if you ever run out of space, all we require is a small amount of fee, and we'll open an extra space for you where you can put extra bags of things.'
'Thank you.' Placing her spare staff and herbs in the box, the young mage returned the box to the tiller.
Outside and again in the humming crowd, Vrisiphiel looked about to deliver the smith's items. 'Dwarven District.' She muttered, trying to figure out how she could find out where the place is.
The young woman wasn't tall, and in the crowd she could hardly see anything past the flurries of rushing red and blue, the colorful array of attires worn by the many people running past. The shops formed a fence around her, like a cauldron.
'If you're going to just stand there, stand by the side!' A night elf shoved her aside, running toward the gryphien stop. Stumbling under the purple humanoids push, Vrisiphiel nearly bumped her head into the side of the caravan.
'Sorry.' She said, but the night elf has already turned the corner.
The endless stream of people filed in and out the square, strangers, powerful priests and warriors, with the occasional shape shifted panthers. She stood by the caravan, all alone, and… She wouldn't describe it as scared, but she was lost. It was a big world, and she was young, and ignorant. And all by herself. She had no friends, no one to talk to, no one to lean on for help.
Shrugging off the thoughts, she found an alley and went through to the outer street, then into the Canal. The city's districts were separated by a series of canals, bridged with arching walkways. The sign posts weren't very clear on the directions, and Vrisiphiel found herself wandering into the Mage Quarter while on the search for the dwarf Stormpike.
'My!' The young woman exclaimed as she walked up the grassy path. Before stood a tower, green vines and purple flowers lined its walls. A ramp spiraled around its perimeter, neither connected to the wall or held up by supports, it suspended in mid air in defiance of the laws of gravity, as a testimony of the powers of magic. The tower dwarfed all surrounding buildings, its stature made clear. This, was the center of some worldly power, this, was the focus of magic. A rainbow of light cascaded down its windows, bright, brilliant shards of colored glass, cut in angular lines in orderly randomness. Her pulse quickened a warm fizzy feeling tingling within, Drawn by its mystical aura, Vrisiphiel made her way atop the ramp.
Inside, the sight was simply breath taking. A large portal beaconed at her, its green watery event horizon shimmering, bathing the chamber with its eerie glow. Standing by the portal was an old sage, who smiled at her, his blue eyes beamed with cool wisdom which Vrisiphiel dared not to look up upon. Her mouth opened, the closed, the words of greetings or questions choked in her throat whenever she looked up at the sage.
'I bring you greetings, child.' The man said. 'If you come in search of the knowledge of the arcane arts, then you have my welcome, come, and step through.' The man's voice was calm and hypnotic. The young mage found herself moving a step in the portal's direction, her green eyes lost in the fluorescent portal.
'Where will it take me?' She heard herself say in monotonic mutter. The young woman could no longer read her own thoughts, it wasn't that her mind went blank, she knew there were a thousand things going through her mind, evaluating, considering, just could not latch onto any of it.
'Where do you wish it take you?' The man replied with a question, in the same even tone.
'Where do I wish it take me?' Vrisiphiel heard a young girl say.
'Where does your heart belong?' The voice asked again, this time it sounded rhetoric, but those blue eyes gazed upon the slender girl as if expecting an answer. The chamber has shifted, the picture glass melted into splatters of colorful pigments, swirling, twirling. The ocean of bottomless green sang, and rippled happily at the girl, the surface curved into a concave, reaching out for her.
'I… don't know.' The young girl shook her head. The green portal shied from her raised hand.
The sage sighed, even the solid stone floor he once stood had melted into soft gelatinous pudding. 'You're not ready yet.' He said. 'She isn't ready.' Pair of blue eyes shifted to the girl's right hand, which was resting by her side. 'Soon, perhaps, I hope.' The next moment the room was back as it once was. Solid floors with spiraling staircase, and morning sun shining through elegant window designs.
The sage raised his hand to the portal. 'I trust you have come to learn more of the arcane magic.' His voice had changed to friendly warmth, or had it? 'A fine choice of study. Please, do step through. It will bring you to the Wizard's Sanctum.'
Her green eyes blinked, her mind still foggy and allowed her not to decipher what just transpired. Vrisiphiel gently extended her hand into the now quiet green surface, and stepped through.
Candle stands lined the sides, dimly illuminating the tall chamber. A quiet and serene blue filtered through the columns of windows. Opposite the portal from which she entered, was another one alike.
An elf lady approached her, and spoke in her beautiful elvish accent. 'Hi there, young one. I am Elsharin, you must be Vrisiphiel.' Seeing the stunned look on the young woman's face, the elf quickly explained. 'We do keep an eye on all promising students. Khelden and Valdios spoke highly of you.' There was an undeniable charm to the elven mage, though she could not place a tag to which part about the elf gave that impression. The voice, the hair, those large tilted eyes, those long pointy ears. They were perfect in every senses, it was a pity there were so few of them left.
The conversation was brief and quick, Vrisiphiel did not wish on delaying her delivery. Elsharin accompanied her out through the portal and wished her luck on her travels, and that whenever the younger mage felt ready, she'd be at the tower to teach her new spells.
An eight years old boy ran past her when she reentered the canal, a few yard behind chased a girl a few years younger. 'Gimme my dolly!'
'Sara wants her doll.' The boy laughed, holding a patched cloth doll before him as he ran along the waterfront.
She passed through the tranquil park where the conclave of night elf druid sat in meditation, and the cathedral before finding the Dwarven District. Charred air filled the air, as every breath sloshed suffocating ash down her lungs and she choked with every step, the clash of metal crushed between hammer and anvil echoed in the polluted environment. The place was filled with smiths and engineers, their shirt drenched in the sweltering heat from the forges.
She found Stormpike in a signless weapon shop. Wearing a miner's helmet, the tall dwarf, and he was tall, measuring up to her chest, was dusting the display racks when she walked in.
'Khuzudumdi hum di modr khum.' The dwarf hummed in his cluttering speech. Vrisiphiel knocked on the door frame, patting off the black soot from the shoulder of her blue robe.
'Ooh's tere?' The dwarf jumped, knocking over an axe so sharp it split the floor board as it landed. 'Barum!' He reached out and plied the weapon out. 'Thumping axe!' He grumbled, putting the axe back into its hold. 'Aye tere lass, 'ov can Stormpike serve ye today?'
'Good day there Master Stormpike, I am here to deliver your orders from Smith Argus in Goldshire.' Vrisiphiel rummage through her pack, and produced the box of supplies.
'Ai, 'ank you lassie.' Stormpike took the box and tore the package open. '"es, good good. Tis all 'ere.' He looked up at the brown haired young woman. 'Appecia'e yer 'elp lass. Vas gitting abi worried abou th'se. Ah 'ere's a few coins fer yer effort.' The dwarf fished out and gave her a handful of coins, some coppers, some silvers.
'Thank you. Master dwarf.'
'Ave, now p'rden me, fer me 'ave works to do.'
Late afternoon, and the city were no less lively. People rushing from districts to districts, hoping to finish their businesses before dark sets in. Wandering at random, Vrisiphiel came into the Old District. The seediest place in Stormwind, the Old Town was filled with ruffians and thugs, shady men eyeing her with shifty glances. Rats scampered between muddy boots, squeaking and sniffing at the air.
There was a shift in the wind, and the young mage smelt a sickening sweet scent carried over on it. The smell of syrup burrowed up her nostrils, and a dull ache rang in her head. 'What a wonderful city we got, got them tasty cheese, grand hallways, holy cathedrals, and best smelling poison maker in all Azeroth.' Someone close to her said sourly.
A maid was dancing before the tavern, and no small sized crowded gathered around her. Twirling seductively, the flaming haired woman drew a shower of whistles from the circle of burly males. A burst of cheers and laughter exploded out the tavern door, turning dozens of heads momentarily before falling back on the dancing girl. Curious of the outburst, Vrisiphiel entered the shabby tavern.
Inside was a crowd smaller than the one outside, but more compacted in the confined tavern. Three quarters of the tables and chairs had been pushed through no gentle manners to the side, while a score of bystanders forming a ring about two combatants, who encircled each other, fists tight before them. The man on the left, one with the red shirt, punched a few gesturing blows in his opponent's way. Looking bored, the other man raised one arm in perfunctory manner, scratching at his oily hair with the other.
Thinking he found a weakness, Red Shirt came at Oily Hair, a plain punch for the abdomen. Oily Hair kicked out, and caught the man in the shin before the punch could land. Red Shirt hopped away in pain, his face anger ridden.
Finding herself a seat by the bar, Vrisiphiel got herself some cold drink, deciding to interest herself watching the fight.
Oily Hair didn't opportune himself with the moment, he stood back and waited for Red Shirt to recover. A second later Red Shirt threw himself at the man, but landed with a thundering crash on the floor when Oily Hair stepped out of the way and gave him a gentle push on the shoulder. The crowd gave a loud 'Oooo', a few winced, some oinked. Back on his feet, Red Shirt shook away the daze over his eyes, and came swinging wildly. With the grace of a cat, Oily Hair ducked beneath the blows and returned a solid punch in the man's gut. Buckling over, Red Shirt groaned, clutching his stomach as he fell to the floor. The crowd gave a unison cheer, followed by the gurgling of beer poured down the throat.
Bowing dramatically at the audience, Oily Hair failed to notice the downed man getting up and sneaking up on him. A crushing elbow drop and Oily Hair fell limp to the floor, his mouth agape soundless for breath. The crowd gave an aww, then cheered for the new victor, followed by more drinks being consumed.
Taking a mug offered from someone in the crowd, Red Shirt wiped at the sweat on his forehead then downed the drink, before stumbling into a nearby seat and looked with satisfaction as the crowd dragged Oily Hair up and out the door.
Giggling lightly to herself at the fight's sudden comeback, the young mage turned back to her foamy drink and thoughts for what happened back at the tower. The tavern was filled with the sound of wood scrapping over stone as the tables were pushed back in place, the crowd resumed their conversation back in their seat and the room was filled with bustling chatter. Few noticed when a man came up to the young mage and laid a sticky hand on her forearm. Startled, Vrisiphiel jerked back from under the large hand.
''llo there pretty.' The young woman turned to find a brute with short trimmed brown hair before her. In the left hand the man held a extra large mug, while his right reached for her face. 'What say you, and I, have a little chat… together… em?' The drunk said.
'Go away, scum.' She snapped, leaning back out of the man's probing hands.
'Feisty, little one. That is good… a little spirit…' Barely able to stand up straight, the man laughed, his teeth yellow and rotten. 'I like.' His hand shot forward and pinched her in the waist. Vrisiphiel slapped him on the wrist, but proved ineffectual against the brute.
'Come on, just a little chat, all girls love it, they just won't admit they want the attention.' The drunk advanced another step. Some patrons had noticed the little event by the bar, but it was common sight and none paid any further notice. Vrisiphiel looked around the room, her eyes a pleading green. But none came.
The man drew his face close, the stink of beer and filth almost overwhelming for the young woman. 'Give me a kiss, lass, it's not like you lose anything.'
'Go to hell and leave the lady alone, drunk.' Someone said behind the drunk, and a hand grabbed the brute back.
'Hrem!' The drunk spun around, his iron fist shot out like a cannonball. The newcomer turned aside, grabbed the out stretched arm and snapped it out and down. 'Ooowaah!' The brute screamed as he was forced by the man's twist to the floor.
Looking up at her rescuer with thankful glance, Vrisiphiel froze by the sight of a unfairly good looking young man.