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Red light flickered in the dark room as Risri moved from one table to the next working through the last roll of film. Usually, she left the task of developing to Savian, the youth making her habit to capture everything when she was out even easier. Her morning ritual usually just sorting through the neat stacks of pictures, finding those she wanted to keep or send out or making notes to have one or another enlarged and framed for the studio’s walls. But today found the elf in her dark room, her desire to work a sort of meditation.

The image began to solidify in the chemicals and the lighting of the piece caught her eye. She wondered briefly where she had been when this particular roll was in use but she could not recall and the grey wall was giving no clue. Still she hung the picture up with a mental note to perhaps have it added to the collection on the walls of the shop.

The smell of saltwater was strong in the noisy establishment known as the Salty Sailor Tavern. Of course such a place was tucked inside Booty Bay, operated and frequented by the myriad of sailors and assorted ne’er do wells what sailed and traveled the seas and coasts. And appropriate to the setting, the tavern floor was far from quiet. In fact, this afternoon which was fading into evening found a particularly noteworthy commotion.

A number of chairs had been tossed aside, as a green-skinned woman stood surrounded by a male and female human, a male Troll, and a particularly rabid-looking Gnome. Long, black hair hung around the Orc’s shoulders, while light, red armor-plates protected the most vital of arteries and organs, leaving almost all of the rest of her skin exposed. She flexed her arms and tensed her legs, as she sent physical gestures of threat to the surrounding opponents. 

Rather than lifting her axe, however, she help a barstool as an impromptu bludgeon. The Troll and human male standing in stances expressing hand-to-hand combat, with the human woman holding a bottle by the neck. Every now and then, the Gnome would inch forward frantically, before being waved off by a casual swing of the stool towards the small and spasmatic figure. It would seem that the commotion had been initiated after the drunken sailors took particular offense to an offhanded comment by Graunka, regarding their inebriation.

He watches the stranger curiously, keeping his comment and any answers to himself until she was finished with her sleight of hand tricks.  “Do those things go hand in hand?  Being handsome so therefor I must have been through a lot of awful things and have done equally awful things?  I’m not sure how the two relate so I’m going to just take that first part as a compliment, thank you.”

He shakes his head and grins, “Such personal information to tell a stranger, it sounds like you’re digging for information here.  Did someone hire you perhaps?”  He eyes her over, rubbing a hand over his chin in thought.  “Someone with quick hands can also have a quick tongue, so tell me, what do you want to know these things?  What’s in it for you?”

NPC ask: Sibling Edition (not accepting!)

Evraine DeVries, O’Brien House Former Housekeeper and Nanny

The eldest DeVries who never managed to amount to much, Evraine - the elder sister of Aeowynne DeVries (Val’s old mentor!) - made her living as a cook, housekeeper, and tutor for Hani and her husband’s young children for a number of years.  In more recent times, with the children slowly growing up, she and a longtime possible partner (it’s complicated), have gone to restore and reclaim the lands belonging to the O’Brien.

Aeowynne DeVries, my first WoW character and ex-mentor of Valerie Farmer, fervent Apothecary

Aeowynne, the brilliant DeVries, the ambitious one... she was never much for being social, or people, but during her short life, she was an incredibly accomplished mage.  It seemed a horrible, tragic accident when she succumbed to the plague - but no one outside of her knows that she did it on purpose.  Aeo is known for being a harsh taskmistress, but one who gets results.

Iain DeVries, the Engineer and Forgotten Brother

The youngest, accounted-for DeVries sibling, Iain is a demolitionist by trade and a frequent face seen around the neutral goblin settlements.  He’s also the most grounded, having achieved more than Evraine but less... deadly accomplishments than Aeowynne.  Iain is a widower, but he has three children of his own who are at or near adulthood now and more than used to their father’s tendency to want to engineer everything in sight, then blow it up.  Iain once helped expand Hani’s farmhouse in Arathi.

Send 💬 + a rumor and my muse will react to it. ll @foxfictioncentral

“I can confirm this.” Halduron nods. “It’s the best ass this side of the Eastern Kingdoms. Glorious, voluptuous.. I dare say it’s the better Booty Bay.”

Lor’themar sighs. “Wow, it’s not like I haven’t heard this countless times before.” He says, unphazed. “I really wish Halduron would stop spreading these rumors about me…”

“Can they really be called rumors if they’re true though?” Rommath asks.

VALTROIS/STELLAGOSA FTW

Describe a scent to my Muse and they’ll respond to it with their thoughts, feelings, and/or a memory. ll @foxfictioncentral

A fire crackling from nearby was the only thing to be heard in the tauren’s abode. Nothing but the small fire and the sound of boots clacking against the polished wood every so often as somebody moved around restlessly around him. Uriel was currently struggling to sit up, a fresh wound making moving awkward. All he remembered from the attack was a Fel Totem ambush and one of the fel-addled tauren had speared him through his side. Normally, this wouldn’t deter a death knight but the fel that had tipped the spear head had taken him down.

It had burned flesh, sizzled like water being thrown on grease upon impact, making the death knight hiss. It was almost akin to being struck with holy magic but ... Different. He didn’t quite know how to describe it. Like being kabobbed and thrown to the fire.

Thankfully, he’d been rescued. Not-so-thankfully, because fate has a sense of humor, he was not thrilled his rescuer had been Halduron of all people. The ranger paced around him, looking uncharacteristically strained and occasionally chewing at a nail. He had been brought back to Thunder Totem to recover, at least enough where he could return to Acherus for proper healing as the Highmountain weren’t exactly knowledgeable in healing the undead. Still, it was enough for now.

“Justice above all. What’s the point ‘a honesty if it brings more pain and lets an outlaw go free? What’s the point ‘a courts and legal systems if it can be twisted in a way that allows pieces ‘a shit ta walk?”

Remington fired her pistol down the range. The round dinged against a metal target of a person, right where the heart would have been. “Ta hell with the truth if it brings more suffering. And ta hell with any sort ‘a ‘honor code’ if it lets an evil person walk.”

She lowered the pistol to her waist and simultaneously smashed the firearm’s hammer down and squeezed the trigger repeatedly, emptying five more shots in rapid succession at more metal targets, each shot dinging in the torso.

“My time as a Badlands lawkeeper taught me that laws and legality can be bought just like anythin’ else in the world, and it’s a damn shame ta see good gunslingin’ folk hang their hat and jump ship if the price is right. If the law’s failed ya, then ya take it by the throat inta yer own hands and enact yer own kind ‘a justice.”

No Easy Answer Asks