Acta Sanctorum (semi-open)

[Bir]

(( I need to get the ball rolling first before you all leap on this. Be patient, I'm working some kinks out. ...anddddd~ lastly! This was written by myself and Malorii. <3 PM myself or Malorii for any details if you're interested on butting in. ))

"I..I need you to do this, 'Garth. He thinks I can't live with it! I can too! Yes, yes.. we can. We will. We will show him. We will show that bastard... Look, look here.." Bir muttered like the hysterical junkie he was, wide eyes set on his voidwalker. He reached out slowly to grab one of the gigantic claws to set it against his chest, using it to rip open his already torn shirt.

There was no soul link, Bir had never divulged into that tree of the shadows, this was as close as it got. The voidwalker pressed his hand to the elf's heart, admiring the quiet ticking before it set in. Suddenly there was a suffering in the demon, a misery that only occurred when his master was this deranged to share. It tormented him, every second the dreadful feeling increased. Revoltion, shame, humiliation, everything that caused those emotions in the sin'dorei were shown to him. The longing for the 'sister' he lost being the most astounding. That large gap where his imagination filled in the blank. There shouldn't have been a blank.

Bir writhed into the hand with a loud lamenting cry. "Yes! Yes it hurts! This is.." He broke with a sob, "This is how it is. How it will always be.. I.. I'm sick, I have a condition.. Unless we find it. Do you see? Do you see the importance? This can't stay this way. They won't help. They don't know how. They want me to be happy like I was before, even the bastard said I was happy. I will give them what they want. She knew how.. She kept me happy for so long.. I didn't even need anyone, only her. Only what she gave me."

The demon struggled to raise its arm, letting out a gut-wrenching howl. Unable to take the horrendous torture for much longer.

"You see it? Do you see it? I need it. I need need it! We need it! You will find it for me. You will do anything it takes to find it. Look everywhere. Understand? Nothing will help but this. This is just for us. Everything will be the way it should be.."

"Bears, bears.. She said she left bears, it must be.. must be in a bear, or a toy. Maybe a pretty toy.. We always laughed about how we hated those pretty nobles.. But.. I could ask.."

"It ...will take time, master." The demon's voice slipped through the void in attempts to soothe the sobbing elf. Voidwalkers didn't exactly make the most comforting sounds.

Bir gave the demon a pathetic look once he actually heard his words. "Time? I don't have much time if it stays this way.. But take what you need. Find it." He traced both his hands up his demon's large shadowy digits, not letting him escape just yet. His slender chest heaved like he had been crying for hours rather than minutes.

"You'll do it, won't you? You'll help me. No one else will help. Qabian, Nymare, anyone who knows anything.. They won't tell me.. I don't know why.. I wi-- You will help me." Bir spread the voidwalkers fingers with his own, shaking like a leaf. He didn't know why he felt the need to convince something who's will was his own. Sometimes his own submissive nature confused even him. Of course it would confuse him, he was sick. He couldn't help this.

The voidwalker held no expression in its misty lucid orbs. Without a word, it ripped its hand off of the elf and glided away.


*********************

Everything is dark, even the sand has seem to take on an ominous shade of grays and dark blues. There is nothing here. Nothing but an ash soot mixed with something that would be considered an oily sulfuric rain. It's hard to tell where the sky meets the ground, everything bleeds together at the horizon meeting into one void. A dead tree sits in the middle of two large onyx obelisks, its roots exposed making up most of the crumbled terra.

Rusted barbed wires twirl and cut their way out of the bark of the dead fauna. It's like some forgotten hand molded a tree of wires and shredded glass in an attempt at art, but in truth a monstrosity of an abomination of twisted branches of horrors. A divine terror in the form of a dead apple tree. The blossoms been replaced with broken glass clinking and clacking back and fourth pushed by the stale wind that blows through the valley. It stirs the dust and rests on the puckered dead flesh and red wet blood of a sin'dorei girl held in place at the base of the roots by rusted wires. Her head lopped back wards awkwardly the gash in her throat exposed and grinning like a second mouth. The ash that falls like damned snow has dug it's self deep into her hair causing it to take on a gray sheen, the rest caked onto her skin that has cracked with slight decay.

[Bir]

There is no sound however, the only sound is that of the mimicking clank glass makes against metal. The scuttling of shadowy hermit crabs that make homes in the mouth of a corpse. Pale ashen lips house one very plump hermit crab. It's skin tainted with shadow, the clickity clack of it's pincers dance against molars that are hanging loosely to gum tissue and bloated tongue. Among it's kin, "he" is king of the hermit crabs. Others have tried climbing the mountains of barbed wire that have pierced the lips of the elf-girl corpse forming a sort of bridge that pierces through the lip and down the esophagus.

Hermit crab heaven, or hell. Yes maybe this was hermit crab hell. Only bad crabs go here. After pinching their keepers fingers and thus being thrown out either into the canals of Stormwind or being stomped on by angry orc children with sore appendages.

The hermit king sticks its eye stalks out pushing past the lips. He takes in the gaze of his kingdom. funny, his peons normally those who would crawl up throat and wire to challenge his domain had began to scuttle away, they scuttle off the corpse desperately crawling towards nooks and shadowy crevices of the dead tree that promises shelter.

A dark shadow covers the kingdom of the hermit crab, a mighty rumble is felt in the kings tiny legs. For a moment he is scared and frightened pulling his eye stalks back into the mouth of his home.

Too late, the king waves his mighty pincher's at the intruder, a hand of blue shadow and the smell of void plucks him from his kingdom. Here he is the once mighty king of dead hermit crab kind, starring into the yellow hazy eyes of void walker. He waves his pincers in a threatening manner, how dare this intruder threaten the king! How dare this bastard fel creature tempt the wrath of the mighty -

**CHOMP!***


Helgarth tosses the hermit crab in the air catching it in its maw chewing contently. Delicious, it savored the way the shell crunched across it's molars and the way the emotion of panic that the scrumptious morsel gave off on it's tongue. Maybe master was kind, enough dilly dallying the voidwalker shifted it's gaze to the corpse of the girl. It smelled like what was on masters being. The elf bitch smelled of ashes and violets. She smelled like cancer and plague. This was the smell of the master. Helgarth grinned, this is what master was looking for, This girl, this weapon the root of masters infection.

[Sabachthan]

A puff of ash rose indignantly with each step that violated the barrenness of the world-between-worlds, leaving behind the dark pit in a sea of grey that even now began the slow and inevitable surrender to the quiet eternity of flakes, singly dwarfed by the row of prints, a daunting task to be filled, but in the peaceful certainty of this land simply a matter of time before it conformed once again to the silt that muted all.

The traveler came before a tree wrapped in wire, the barbs shining abysmally with the sickly-sweet smelling decay of the fruit. He gazed slowly up and down the horrendously twisted and rotting plant. He closed his eyes, a hand coming up to rub his forehead wearily as he sighed,

"By the Shadow, the whorelocks must have bullet points in their weekly council agendas for making Sabachthan Ghant's life more complicated."

He turned, and began walking through the nothingness again.

[Bir]

(( EEEEEE~! Will post more once I'm finished owning Kael.. ))
http://i112.photobucket.com/albums/n170/xiexieni/HermitKingofhell.jpg

[Bir]

As Helgarth glided through Shattrath, passerbys gave him funny looks. His will was more or less one with his master's, so he gave them funny looks back. He lurched through the infirmary, stubby head ever looking, ever alert. The suffering drew him this far, the screaming pain of the horrible endless void echoing in his head. It was his master's twisted yearning for this woman, or whatever it is she gave him. He didn't understand it, but he liked what he found in the odd sandy place. Fireflies, hermit crabs, all sorts of tasty little things to munch on. He held the naked barb laced women as delicately a voidwalker could. He wanted to figure out what was so great about her besides the delicious treats hidden in her mouth.

"Wh-what the hell is this?" Bir blurted out his words, rolling right off the top bunk to hit the ground with a quiet thud. He stared at the body in his minion's arms before looking over his shoulder. No one was watching. All the refugees in the infirmary were asleep or drugged.

As quickly as the little elf could, he ripped the blankets from his bed and spread them on the ground behind the bunks. He then took the corpse from the voidwalker, gently placing her on top of the blanket, trying to keep her out of view.

"Poof up big, 'Garth.. Make sure no one can see.." Bir waved his hand, directing the demon to where he wanted him to shield.

"Who did this to you, Malorii? Why?"

Bir lowered himself to his knees, as if he were about to pray. Instead, he reached out and turned the dead girl's chin, inspecting her face. His eyes traveled down to the wire piercing her skin. Without even thinking, he grabbed the twisted barbs at her abdomen and yanked. Nothing came of it but blood from his palms and further damage to Malorii's body. His breathing increased as he took in the sight further, trailing down to find the start of the wire.

"It's ok.. It's ok. I'll help you. I can't die.. They won't let me. Why should you stay like this..? You're not dead.. Not for long. I won't let you rot, Malorii. I won't, I promise. You'll be ok.." Bir whimpered to the pale corpse. His thoughts soared. Where he followed her in the past, where she went. What was there.. What did he need. She needed to be hidden, preserved. She needed to be safe until he knew how to bring her back.

"I know what to do, it'll be ok. Everything will be ok, your brother will make it all better. Yes, I will. I've missed you so much.. so so much.. You helped me, I'll help you too. We'll play when you wake up. We'll play sneak, then we'll eat cheese."

Bir murmured quietly while he untangled the wire, not minding the sharp metal thorns. His infected blood trickled down his fingers and wrists, dripping down onto the woman's snowy white skin as he worked to free her from the spiked vines. What would his sickness do to one already dead? Nothing. He took the binds from her and tossed them carelessly behind him, blood splatting on the wall with the movement.

"There.. I'll hide you, for now. I need.. formaldehyde."

************************************************** ***********


***A snippet from an Undercity newspaper***

An official report made by Chemist Cuely of Undercity's Royal Apothecary Society was made today. 300 Gallons of Embalming fluid was stolen from a convey going from the 3600 block of Silverpine heading to the Undercity. This shipment of Embalming fluid is primarily used in the preservation and weekly maintenance of Undercity's Guardians the Abominations. Cuely had this to comment.

"At first when I heard the shipments had been stolen. I thought it was another one of those pranks from the local university, but mostly when they do take things like Ichor or embalming fluid. They leave dead gnomes for each crate stolen. Damn kids and their drugs, but I think it was someone else this time. "

Cuelly who has been working for the R.A.S since the establishment of Undercity by Slynvannas Windrunner was in low spirits. Cuely Along with Apothecary Johaan and Doctor J.P Leibowitz have been overseeing the shipments of embalming fluid and maintenance on the Undercity's guardians. Apothecary Johaan was unreachable for comment due to duties in Brill and Dr.Leibowitz has departed for Northrend on official work sometime ago.

Recent alliance activity in the area has also raised some questions as to light on the recent theft of embalming fluid. Chemist Cuely has put out a reward for any information about the theft. Any Inquires can be reached in the Apothecary section of Undercity or correspondence by mail to the address of:

Chemist Cuely
1313 Mockingbird lane.
Brill.

[Qabian]

Qabian went down to his vault, removed the ragged pack, and dumped its contents out onto a small table in the hall. He scowled. Nothing had changed. A flame tabard, halo, stuffed cat, and petals. There was nothing new. The petals scattered across the floor, alerting him to a draft he hadn't realized was there. He narrowed his eyes. A window was open somewhere.

He could sense Maryellen lurking in the shadows, but hardly cared.

Why, Nymare? He had accused her of everything short of the questions being her own idea.

Malorii was dead. She would stay that way. With most of his own certainties being in such a fragile state, he needed her to stay that way. If she did come back, she couldn't hold him to any of the things he had not done for her, but he also could not hold her to her silence. Silence he'd already broken himself, and continued to break again and again, but...

He shouldn't doubt, but doubt had been a trend recently.

With a distressed expression, the mage picked up the tabard and shook it. Nothing. Why would she have left anything with me? That doesn't make sense. He threw it to the ground.

He picked up the toy cat and --

"What?" he said out loud. His fingers found a rolled up scrap of paper tucked into its collar, Bir's name quite clearly marked on the outside of it. Qabian's scowl quickly shifted to a twisted grin. "Hmm. Apparently, I lied." He unrolled the paper and read the words inside. "Interesting."

[Bir]

Bir looked up to where he had hidden Malorii. She was under a tarp, wrapped up in blankets in a small enclave on the roof. That was no good. This would have to change. Soon people would notice yet another odd smell and they might go looking for it. It was too close, last night. He cleaned the mess but left a few stray bloody clothes laying around. Kovan came by expectantly and it was hard enough to keep his hands hidden. There would be no questions asked. No one would find out about this, especially not Kovan.

What was unnatural to Bir, was natural to Kovan.. and what was unnatural to Kovan was sometimes natural to Bir. Death fell into this somewhere, the two of them never really reaching to any solid stance or agreement whenever the topic came up.

This made it vital to keep the body hidden and safe. Kovan would not help this time. He had a busy day, taking much much more than what he needed to keep himself free of question. Sure, someone stole a lot, someone in Silverpine. He wasn't someone and he was nowhere near that forest. No one would figure it out. No one would find where he hid most of it.

Helgarth grunted in compliance his massive arms opening the lid of the wooden barrel. This was an odd hospital, lots of barrels and sometimes not enough cots for all the patients. Sometimes the nurses would come in and make up little cots on the floors. Helgarth snapped back to attention and picked up the nymph elf girl and held her in his arms. He glanced back to his master. He didn't know why master wanted the girl in the barrel. Maybe master was going to eat her. He snorted and held the girl by the waist shoving her feet in first. Not all of her would fit so he had to push hard. A loud wet crack was heard and the void walker could see part of Malorii's arm bone braking through the skin, but at lest she was all the way in now.

"For fel's sake, 'Garth.. Be careful.." Bir growled, wanting to scream at the demon but knowing better than to draw any unwanted attention. It was hard enough finding an empty place in the infirmary, let alone keeping it that way.

Helgarth grinned proud at his work, he could make anything fit if he just pushed hard enough. He watched his master curiously.

"What can I do.." Bir took a smaller barrel from behind the one they were using, pouring its contents in with the body. He stared down, inexpressive. Black curls fell in front of his face, shielding an unwanted look from the demon.

Master was still worried he could tell by the way he had been acting all night, he hadn't slept much. Dark circles under his eyes, the voidwalker had stayed up watching from the shadows. He had watched master hold the girl cadaver in his arms rocking back and fourth soothing her hair back and singing. Master did not have a good singing voice. However, this was the most fun Helgarth had in awhile. He sank back into the shadows waiting for master to call for him again. His heart fluttered with anticipation for what new games master would think of next.

"Mister Romine, it's time for your tea.. What are you doing there, cutie?" The familiar sin'dorei nurse made her way around the bunk to see what the little elf was doing. She loved bringing him tea, he was so darned cute with that little imp of his. They usually played games, like children.

Bir turned, unable to hide what he had in the barrel. He didn't hear her approach until it was too late. The woman gasped, dropping the tea and turning on her heels-- not fast enough. The cup shattered on the ground, hot medicated tea splashing up on her long white skirts. Even if he was shorter than the woman, Bir grabbed her, clasping one hand over her mouth. She bit down on the bandages he had wrapped there from his previous fun with barbed wire. She twisted and let out muffled screams until.. A sickening crack. The nurses neck broke like a chicken bone under the little elf's sharp movement.

"Light, please have mercy.." Bir begged, looking up. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... Cattora, I need you."

Bir flicked his wounded hands into the air, calling his succubus from the nether. The nurse fell limp to the ground, eyes staring listlessly into the tea she spilt.

"Those, the maintenance closet. Now. No one else needs to die tonight." Bir pointed to the barrel and quickly collected the tall freshly dead woman in his arms.

"Keep them safe. I need to go for a little while. Finish pouring those into that barrel. Don't bother with what's inside, we'll do that later." Bir's voice was deep, commanding. If it wasn't the succubus would probably just walk away and laugh.

"Kovan? Slave pens? Sure!" Bir forced a smile, talking happily into his hearth while walking off.

[Bir]

(( FUNNY GRAPHIC CARD ERROR.. HURTING EYES. ...oh right, this is vulgar and morbid. If you don't like that sort of thing uh.. yeah. ))

She shook her head again and turned her back to her keeper. Her gaze turned to the barrel holding the sin'dorei woman. Cattora had always been bothered to tears by Bir's lack of interest in her and women in general. This however, was different. Why was Bir paying more attention to a corpse pickling in a barrel of formaldehyde then her. She purred running a clawed finger over the barrel. A doves cry moan escaped her lips as a swift kick to the container side sent it along with the corpse and the preservation liquid washing over the dusty closet floor.

"Master! She's stuck, she won't come out!"

Cattora trotted up to the the mouth of the barrel and pulled Malorii by the hair. She twisted and tugged, the skin on Malorii's neck threatened to tear even more from the wound that was already inflicted before she died.

"Don't.. Don't.. Cattora stop! You're hurting her!" Bir dropped to his knees, worry stinging his eyes.

Cattora huffed and fluttered her wings in discontentment. She got down on her knees and wriggled her hands around the corpses shoulders and pulled. Malorii was stuck fast. The bone that had broken when 'Garth had placed in her in first was wedged between the mouth of the barrel preventing any movement. The succubus squealed in a fit of rage and pushed Malorii's left shoulder forward snapping the clavicle in half. Malorii's arm dropped wobbling like a wet noodle. This gave the succubus enough room to to pull the corpse out. Malorii came out with a wet popping noise, gore and embalming fluid glistened on the floor, it oozed into the crevices of the tile. The succubus frowned poking at the snot like concoction with her hoof.

"Oh Malorii, I'm sorry.. Does it hurt?" Bir knocked his succubus out of his way, cradling the she-corpse lovingly.

"Master, I can make the hurt stop for her.. I can like, hear her screaming. Eye for an eye. You've already got what I need." Cattora gave a wicked grin, glancing over to the dead nurse. If she helped master, there was no way he wouldn't reward her.

"..Wh-what?" Bir blinked stupidly.

"Remember when we went to Scholomance and you let me keep a pretty book, it was on necromancy! You're always talking about how the light-types can bring back, you can too if you listen to me!"

The Nether maiden held out her hand conjuring a tome bound in red flesh. The title of the book having been carved into the face with small little nails.
She opened the book, shadow poured from the pages and she purred in want.

"Master, The first part is.. Umm we need to make a circle of soiled blood. Your blood is soiled and unclean now, make a circle around the body master. "

Bir gave a slow nod, unsure of her words. Books? Scholomance? He didn't remember anything like that. Nothing at all. He had a good memory too. Something in the back of his mind alarmed him, though he dismissed it with ease. Malorii did so much for him, how much would a circle of blood really hurt? He unraveled the bandages around one of his hands, tearing the wound open.

The succubus' tail twitched back and forth like a temperamental cat. She was enjoying herself immensely, she ran her tongue across her plump lips watching Bir bleed. She longed for the day master would let her taste him. Her heart caught in her chest and another groan of want escaped her. He would reward her. He had to.

Bir squatted down, shaking the blood from his hand in a half circle. It was harder than it looked, to draw a circle with your own blood. He picked at the wound on his other hand, shoving his fingers into the broken skin and trying to draw more blood.

"Master, now we need the clean blood.. from the nurse lady, like make her bleed and then I'll defile the corpse with the sigils."

It took a little while for Bir to bring himself to the nurse. She was always so good to him. When he cried in the night, she brought him tea or thistle. He couldn't do it. He couldn't. She didn't compare to Malorii, but she was once a good woman too. There were few of those, but who knew. She could have been just as bad as the rest. No, no.. "Cattora.. I can't do it, you do it."

"Just make her bleed, a little. Her hand, get her hand. You have to do it. I can do the rest." Cattora sighed, not understanding.

Bir took in a short breath, taking the nurses' hand. He closed his eyes and snapped her finger, turning it awkwardly so the bone jutted from the joint. Her blood trickled into his wounds, as if it really mattered to him. "There.."

Cattora wiggled her hips, her eyes scanned the pages of the book making sure everything was in place. She set the book down inside the circle the pages left open.
The succubus went to her knees in front of the nurses corpse, with one swipe of her nail she slit open the flesh of the chest, blood pooled in between her fingers, she continued to claw until her nails raked across the bone. She shoved her both her hands into the now exposed chest snapping the sternum and one of the ribs open. The chest cavity laid open before her like the petals of an exposed flower. The succubus moved forward pulling out the heart of the unlucky victim. She then waddled on her knees over to Malorii's corpse.

The demoness scanned the pages of the book making sure she memorized the sigils. She held the heart above Malorii's beaten body. She stopped suddenly her eyes going wide. She pointed to the cadaver of the girl and shrieked wildly in demonic before she calmed down enough to speak calmly to her keeper.

"MASTER! Her chest is smaller then mine, yet you still favor her!? THEY DON'T EVEN BOUNCE WHEN I SMACK THEM!"

The succbus gave Malorii's chest a great THWAK! with her palm of her hand, her eyes narrowed in sheer hatred. How dare this dead bitch take masters attention away from her. Cattora sighed maybe if she was really good master would let her play with his new toy, that would be a good reward.

"..Finish the ritual." Bir ordered, looking none too pleased with what his minion did. He turned and left the room momentarily, returning just as quickly as he left, unable to trust the damned demon bitch with something so precious.

Cattora huffed and rand the now mutilated heart across Malorii's body in different shapes of sigils. She took what was left of the shriveled heart and began to chew it reading over what came next. She flipped through the pages humming to herself.

Bir watched curiously, tears stinging his eyes. He didn't like this. He didn't want it to come to this, that poor nurse.. But he would have what he needed. She would be burnt later, or something. It didn't matter, did it?

The succubus stood up at her full height holding the book of the damned in her hands, she spread her wings out. Like an angel of pestilence and viral lust she spoke the words from the book and pointed at each one of the seals on Malorii's body.

"et stellae caeli ceciderunt super terram sicut ficus mittit grossos suos cum vento magno movetur"

The seal of blood on Malorii's hands glowed a seething fiery red and settled in a sanguine mist branding itself on her palms. The smell of sulfur and fel fire filled the room. What little light had creeped through the boarded up windows had seemed to shriek back, as if the very light was afraid.

"et cum vidissem eum cecidi ad pedes eius tamquam mortuus et posuit dexteram suam super me dicens noli timere ego sum primus et novissimus!"

The seal adorning Malorii's feet hissed and boiled like acid before sinking into the ripe flesh of the corpse. The circle of tainted blood began to boil and sizzle. The paint on the walls began to blister and crack.

"et vivus et fui mortuus et ecce sum vivens in saecula saeculorum et habeo claves mortis et inferni"

The floor wept blood and puss, the seal on Malorii's forehead was branded in boiling rot and scar before fading sinking into ashes. Hisses and whispers came from outside the circle and many small skittering things where heard. Hundreds of roaches and maggots could be seen trying to enter the circle but were repelled.

"et ego flebam multum quoniam nemo dignus inventus est aperire librum nec videre eum"

The seal on Malorii's chest gave off a screech of a bat and it began to eat its likeness into her skin, it prickled and tore at the alabaster flesh till it too was nothing more then ash. Rust and blood had taken to form on the ceiling above them. The mess wriggled like maggots leaving vein like stains.

"et in diebus illis quaerent homines mortem et non invenient eam et desiderabunt mori et fugiet mors ab ipsis"

Maloriis eyes shot open, unlike all her kindred they did not glow, instead they had a filmy white sheen over the green colored pupils. Cataracts had taken the place of healthy eyes, a gurgling sound had come from Malorii's throat. The succubus stood over the maiden of ashes and watched little bubbles of blood come out of the wound hissing as they popped. Her wounds and lacerations did not close. Cattora let out a whine as she watched Malorii's chest heave forward on its own followed by the rest of her body. The low guttural growl mixed with the air escaping her lacerated throat filled the air.

"Master.. It worked.. and it didn't work. The vessel is empty master."

Bir sat still, stunned at what he witnessed.

The corpse sat up staring at the ceiling, then it's head lopped to the side and it rolled over on to its belly crawling with its good arm over to the fresh corpse of the nurse who just wanted to make people well. Malorii Airas made a messy meal of the corpse, chewing on flesh and bone. Parts of the nurses flesh, the chunks that couldn't get swallowed all the way, hung from Malorii's open neck wound like a gaudy necklace.

" It's empty master! .. She's EMPTY! she has NO SOUL!"

Cattora grabbed Bir by the arm forcefully pulling him away from Malorii and out of the room. The succubus made sure to lock the door from the outside. Cattora looked panicked, which was odd normally the only thing that caused a succubus to panic was who their next mate was going to be.

"..Where is her soul?" Bir whimpered, allowing himself to be dragged. Needless to say, the little elf was shivering, terrified.

"What is in there now master, is not your play thing. It doesn't have a soul.. the soul couldn't reach the body... now it's just a hungry thing. We should kill it master.."

"N-no.. No we can't kill her. Listen, wrap her up. Tie her to a wheelchair. I'll get her some tea so she doesn't stay rabid. Make sure she's tied up good. We can't stay here. Someone will go in there soon, someone will find out what we did.. I need to clean everything. I will get mercy if I do the right thing.." Bir looked down at the blood oozing from the closet door, the sounds from inside not reaching his ears.

http://i112.photobucket.com/albums/n170/xiexieni/zombiemal.jpg

*************************************

"Hm, you're up and about tonight then?" Aquizit's voice sounded cheerful in the hearthstone.

Bir replied, "Sure, why wouldn't I be.. Kovan's going to bring me on an adventure, wanna come along?" He knew the man would decline and give him time to do what he needed to get rid of the nurses' corpse.

"Sadly, I'm off to bed. I will be unable to join you."

"Oh.. That's too bad. Listen, I need to talk to you later. I've found something very important and I might need your help. Don't mention anything to Kovan, Kovan can't know." Bir's voice sounded oddly serious. Too serious for a conversation with his lover.

"..It's involving her again, isn't it? You've only sounded this passionate when you're talking about the things she left you."

"..Yes, it's about her. I have her. ..I need a place. Somewhere to keep her, so nobody looks.."

"..W-what?.. You have her body?!"

"..Yes and no. She's not as dead as she should be, but she's not alive either. She's empty."

"..She almost sounds scourge."

"It's hardly any different, but I will fix her. You understand, right? Why Kovan can't know?"

"He would stop you. I feel I should stop you... something doesn't seem right in all of it."

Bir gave his hearthstone a funny look, "The only thing that isn't right was the ritual. There are worse things, like keeping a dying elf from his death. What would Kovan call it.. not natural."

"So.. you still want to die."

"No, I don't. But I'm sick. I'm dying anyway. Kovan's setting it back and holding me here. It's the same damn thing I'm doing with her, but for some reason everyone thinks it's so awful! ...Or they would think that, if they knew."

"..I don't think I understand, but you do --so find me tomorrow."

"I will, I'll explain it all. Everything will be fine."

"Will you be fine?"

"I'm not fine right now, that's why I'm doing this. I will be fine." Bir cut the communication.

[Qabian]

Qabian stood underneath the cracking black branches of the tree, staring up at the moon shining down through leafless lines. He had never come to this place before, had never had a reason to, but a few well placed questions were all he needed to find it, and it wasn't like he had to go inside the edifice itself.

The place held flashes of memory and history, the way Azshara and Quel'thalas did not. Odd finding her ghost here in a place he had never been, but he supposed it was only appropriate.

The mage shrugged, rolled up his sleeves, hoisted his mining pick, and began testing the ground. No. No. Hmm. Using the pick, he pulled back chunks of the crusted dirt beneath the tree until the corner of an old wooden box was revealed. He moved as much earth as he could with the pick, then went down to his knees and moved the rest with his hands. Should have brought a shovel, he thought, feeling like an idiot for not considering that the pick would not be enough in this soft dusty ground. Clearing enough of the dirt away, he used the edge of the pick as a crowbar to pry open the lid of the box.

Teddy bears. Well, that explains the lunatic's ranting. Qabian removed the first toy he could reach from the box and turned it over in his hands as he stood up. No messages attached that he could see. He whispered a spell over it. No overtly obvious enchantments, but there was still something...

Several skewers of ice sliced through the bear in his hand causing the toy to fall apart in a few neat pieces. A light midnight breeze rolled thick pieces of cotton fluff across the ground at the mage's feet. As the last bits of fluff and fur slipped through his fingers and the pieces of ice fell away, melting far more quickly than was natural, all that remained in Qabian's hands was a fat black silk pouch. One of the bits of ice had torn it, and shimmering blue-white powder trickled out across his palm.

Qabian dipped the fingers of his opposite hand into the spilling powder and brought them up to his face. "Mana...?" He dusted the powder across his lips and recognized a familiar sensation. "Don't know why I expected something more interesting," he muttered. So many fell prey to similar substances, but he saw it as merely a tool like anything else if properly controlled. He wrapped the torn pouch in a few spare bandages and tucked it away. He stuffed the rest of the bears into his pack, flipped a rune into the air, and stepped back to Silvermoon, his person unceremoniously covered in dirt, glowing pupils slightly too bright and wide, and a very twisted smirk across his lips. In the courtyard behind the Ghant estate, Qabian had left the overturned earth and empty wooden box beneath the oak open to the air and uncovered, a few stray pieces of fluff rolling about, catching on dead roots.

"First, a bath," he said aloud to himself as he slipped into the court below Sunfury Spire, ignoring the stares at his disheveled appearance from his fellow Magisters. The last he'd been so desperately untidy in the center of the city, he'd been under arrest. His smirk split into a grin, knowing that with what he was carrying that would have been only appropriate this time as well.

~~

A letter in the mail.

Bir,

It turns out I do have something you want. Do you have something I want?

~Qabian

[Bir]

A letter arrives marked for Evanthe Cindersong, It is sealed with scarlet wax and smells like fel. The obvious penmenship of a succubus is written below.

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


Evanthe,

Thiz iz Cattora, birs best minion and by far the preetiest one ever. Bir need yoor hlp,.becuse he turned mal into a soulless nurze eeting zombiee. can you help us plz?
Bir is gtting mad at me becuse malorii doent have big b( . y . )bs and now he's yelling at me cuse i draw porns on ur letter. gots to go cuse hes throwing thi---
xoxoxox
Cattora.

P.s, my boobs are bigger, and weer at Aquizits hoose but we can cum vizit u???..... We can hazm alori i in a wheel chair and wheel her to u cuse she smells bad and needs to not rot on my good dress.

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

[Bir]

A torn piece of parchment, addressed to Qabian Amberlight. Bir shrugged, not signing it. Did he even need to? He was a smart man, he'd know who it was from.

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

I have nothing you want.

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

[Evanthe]

You WILL return her soul when I find the dead man that's taken her.

The priest's words whispered through her mind as Evanthe reached into her pocket and pulled out the bronze estate key. She could still feel the ghost of his bony fingers digging into the tender flesh of her stomach and throat; still feel the spittle that flew from his mouth as he threatened, no, promised to kill her, his hands digging in around her neck, forcing the air out and rendering her silent, his face full of indignation and contempt for the whorelock who would dare keep him from his precious servant.

No, she thought as she turned the key, the tumblers falling into place with an audible thunk. She wouldn't relinquish the stone that held Malorii's soul to anyone, let alone Sabachthan Ghant.

Foolish, selfish Sabachthan. He infuriated her. It wasn't enough that Malorii had given her life for him, oh no. Of course not. He wanted her to serve him again. Sabachthan thought of no one aside from himself, cared little for anything or anyone that wasn't fawning at his feet. Incompetent, blubbering fool. Her sacrifice meant nothing to him. Nothing.

Evanthe was shaking with pent-up rage as she pushed open the heavy door. The more she played their encounter in Zangermarsh in her mind the more angry she became.The errands she ran afterwards hadn't provided the distraction she wanted, no matter how she tried she couldn't stop from remembering. Sabachthan, staring as the rain blanketed the small patches of land; Sabachthan, trying to choke her, pinning her against the stone wall; Sabachthan, entering her mind the way her brother used to, stealing her private thoughts and memories.

She noticed the scent as soon as she shut the door behind her, the unmistakable, intoxicating fel. A second later she located where the scent was coming from, a small envelope addressed to her had been left on a side table. She broke the scarlet wax that sealed the letter impatiently, curious as to why this parchment would carry the fel taint.

The succubus's words leapt out at her, the meaning clear despite the poor writing. Evanthe felt a flood of emotions pour through her; relief and disgust, elation and longing, all mixing together to drown her anger. Her maiden of ashes had returned.

Evanthe spoke the demoness's name, and almost instantly Zahona appeared before her. The succubus bowed before her mistress, knowing better than to speak out of turn.

"Find the succubus Catorra and tell her to bring the girl here, at once, and to keep her junkie master from speaking about it to anyone else."

Evanthe walked past her minion, not bothering to wait for a confirmation. Silly Sabachthan, she thought, a smirk playing at her lips. Pity for him that I hadn't read this before.

[Qabian]

Qabian frowned and crumpled up the scrap of parchment in one fist, dusting the ashes into the upside down humanoid skull on his desk.

The mage took out a quill and scratched out another note.


Bir,

I thought that the fact that your brain is rotting might make you more creative, not less. How disappointing.

I'm in the market for tears. You do know how to make people cry, don't you? Of course, not just any tears. The specifics might be beyond you.

But I could tell you what I want, and you could get them for me, save me some time, and then I could dump this garbage on you instead of into the sea while simultaneously advancing my own research, a simple payment for managing her estate for you.

Or perhaps you're just too hopeless to bargain? I'm sure you'd just exchange something useless instead because all that matters is your own amusement. Why else would she have left you something that will kill you?

No matter. I have better things to do.

~Qabian

Perhaps the fool had lost all hope after all. If so, Qabian had come into a large amount of something he might have to find another use for, or lock away again until the next person claimed it as an inheritance.

[Bir]

Bir licked his lips slowly, leaning back in someone else's office chair. It would be no good to lurk around in Eladis' house, but he wanted to send a letter back that might even look intimidating. It was written flawlessly, no doubt scrapped over and over until it looked perfect. Sealed with an ornate stamp, oddly it being the Thornel family crest.


Qabian,
My brain is not rotting. Someone won't let it. If I could just waste away into oblivion I wouldn't need anyone or anything. That isn't an option.

I've heard things about you and your lady from Kovan. Things I don't like at all. Things about my wellbeing and lies about your concern for it. If you want her tears, make her shed them yourself. What's the matter? Get too caught up? Can't make her cry? Love her too much for that? Need someone else to ruin it all? I won't do it for you. She deserves your honesty.

Now what were his words, ah right:
"Of course neither would admit it. But when you see Nymare, Qabian isn't far behind."

Cute. I wonder how long that's been going on. Tell me what you want and I might consider it. I've done worse things than make people cry for what I have now. I have much more than dust and bears. Much better things. I will have salvation.

Now why did I write this letter if I don't need what you have anymore? My own amusment, duh.

Never yours,
~Bir Romine
P.S. Try some of that dust, it's not bad actually. I can spare a little.

[Bir]

Cattora was bitterly frothing at the mouth as she trotted back and fourth in front of the bound and drooling Malorii. Her hooves left little scuff marks on the floor, she was babbling in demonic as she read the letter Qabian had sent her master. Bir had left Malorii in her care while he went to do things with or too someone who was not her. Spittle flew between her lips as she recited the letter in a mocking tone.
She turned to the now rotting maiden of ashes.

"By the legion can you believe this dribble!?"

She threw her hands up in the air in utter disgust, she walked up towards Malorii and unbound the mouth gag, which Bir has suggested they, "use an apple so it won't taste so bad, or a lot of bubble gum."

They had tried using a large gob of cheese in the she ghouls mouth but it still was prone to dissolving even with undead slobber on it. This didn't please Bir, but it made Cattora giggle. Malorii's head lopped to the side gurgling bloody bubbles popping out of the neck wound, she groaned loudly. Cattora wasn't worried about Mal nibbles, zombies don't crave the flesh of demons.

Malorii moaned softly in response. "Unnhnn........"


"Mmmm, can you say omphaloskepsis ?" Cattora held Malorii's head in her hands, staring her in the eye.

"It like, means Contemplation of one's navel."

Cattora straightened up wiggling her hips, she held the letter out in front of her putting on her best narcissistic voice.

"I'm in the market for tears. You do know how to make people cry, don't you? Of course, not just any tears. The specifics might be beyond you. Blahblahblah I stare at myself in the mirror for hours! I masturbate to my own reflection! I'm Qabian and I'm soooooooooo awesome!!!"

She did a little flex of her arms as she tossed the letter to the ground. She walked behind Malorii and put her palms on the handles.

"I bet we'll make him cry, let's go Pay Mr.Amberlight a vist, then you can eat his brains and Bir won't know. He might even be pleased."

She sprawled in big marker on the wall behind her, she hoped she made out Qabian's hand writing enough to follow the return address.

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

DEAR MASTUR ME AND THE DEAD WHORE WENT TO THE PARK THAT IS MOST DEINFTLY NOT QABIANZZ HOUSE

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Catorrrraa


P.S B( o Y o )BS!!

(( O manz this is gettin goooood... ))

[Bir]

Cattora strolled cheerfully down the lane, they had walked for miles and miles. She pushed the living dead bitch, who on occasion when some living person got to close would viciously click her teeth fighting against the restraints, the passerbys would just stare and watch the odd couple on their journey.

Cattora would wink and smile behind her. "Oh she's just going through her teething phase, just wait till more rot sets in then we won't have to worry about the gags! TA!"

It was nearly evening when they got to the Amberlight estate, of course getting in was going to be hard. Cattora shook her head.

Who needed formal social calls when you had a drooling zombie and lots of rocks? Cattora grinned and clawed through the earth. She found a decent one that reminded her of a fat mans belly. She held it up in front of malorii.

"What do you think about this one?"

"Ugnnnn....."


Malorii was drooling maggots on herself. Much to Bir's distress you just couldn't keep flies off a fresh corpse on a new spring morning. Cattora hurled the rock through the air knocking a decorative statue in the head.

" HEY!! YOU AMBERLIGHT &#37;&*%$#*&!!!!"

***THUNK!!***


"MY MASTERS DOENST NEED YOU CHEAP PAPERY WORDS OF FILTH!!"


* KA- KLUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuDDDDDDDDD!!!*

Another rock, and another foul mouth succubus cursing louder and more vulgar then any sailor or pirate in booty bay on a Saturday night. She dug through the dirt and found another rock. She picked it up tossed. It went sailing through the air finding it's mark on a pane of glass. Cattora turned around bending over slapping her behind all the while cheering.


"QABIAN MASTURBATES TO HIS REFLECTION!!! %T$#(%&(#$&^!!!!"


Malorii had begun to get upset over the noise, well as much upset as a non functioning brain could. It came back to the barest of instincts hunger, and more hunger.

"UHHNN!!"

"YOU HEAR THAT QABIAN!? MALORII SAYS SHE KNOWS WHAT YOU REALLY USE THE POLYMORPH SPELL ON!!!"

With that last insult Cattora did a few pelvic thrusts making sheep noises. Hopefully he would be home, or at lest if he wasn't one of his servants could tell Qabian about her insult about sheep.

Bir followed behind the two, in stealth of course. The shadows were his salvation for the time being. It was so, SO hard not to join in. Instead, he would watch, daggers in his palms. Cattora he could care less about, he could call her from the nether anytime he needed. Malorii however, was hardly there as it was. If the man came out and made one move against Malorii.. He would be blinded and they would take their leave. There would be no killing, Qabian Amberlight was much too amusing to just murder.

(( You don't have to come out at all Qabian, they won't barge in or nothin'... And we didn't destroy nothin' either! ))

[Qabian]

((He's not at home anyway, hahaha! And he doesn't get his mail sent to his house because he is secret agent man, so these could happen at the same time maybe?))

Qabian sighed as he read over the reply. For a moment, from the appearance of the letter and the script, he had actually thought it was from someone who mattered, but no.

He took out another page of his own.


Bir,

Your assumptions are highly amusing if massively incorrect. Perhaps they are only entertaining because of how wrong they are. Whatever Nymare does with regards to me, she does because she chooses to. If that makes her as delusional as you are, more is the pity for her wasted concern. She deserves what she brings upon herself.

I have no regard whatsoever for your wellbeing or your salvation. I have never pretended otherwise. And I don't recall ever speaking a single word regarding your existence to her or to Kovan that I did not say to you in turn. If I missed the opportunity, do forgive me and allow me the chance to make it up. It is possible my occasional tendency for sarcasm may have caused confusion. I promise to share my absolute honest opinion with you because you quite simply deserve it.

However, if you wish to live in your own strange world, believe your own strange ideas, and play your own strange games alone, why would I care?

My current projects have absolutely nothing to do with my lady, as you so delicately imply her to be.

Qabian gritted his teeth has he wrote that line. "At least, they shouldn't," he muttered to himself.


I'm looking for tears collected the moment great happiness turns to great despair. As you might imagine, those I count among my colleagues, wolves as they are, rarely take such turns and if they do, they certainly don't do so in my presence. They tend to live in a less mutable world, no matter what spectrum of contentment they claim to exist within.

The tears can be from anyone. Perhaps even yourself. I suspect you have more emotional contacts than I do, although you are not the only person I am sending to hunt such things for me. Slaying children before their parents seems to work well, but vice versa tends to send the young ones into a shock that produces nothing of use.

I don't recommend trying to get them from Nymare. Your attempts would likely only make her laugh, which would be rather counterproductive for what I'm trying to do.

If you can get such a thing for me, I'll send you your sun forsaken bears.

If you prefer not to make the attempt, perhaps I'll just save them to return to the weapon when her masters call her back, as I have been assured they will do in time whether or not I believe it is possible.

~Qabian
P.S. Didn't need your permission to make that test, but I am ever so grateful for it, I assure you.

~~

The rock that hit the glass made a satisfying smash and shatter of the small square of pane itself, but there was no sound of it hitting anything inside the early evening shadows within house, only a strange flash of blue light.

The large heavy door creaked open just wide enough for a small half-metal face below glowing yellow eyes to peer out at them from the darkness inside. "No one's home," she told the succubus and her less coherent corpse companion. The little Forsaken moved to shut the door. "And you don't want in here. Trust me -- wait. Is that...?" She narrowed her yellow eyes at Malorii.

The metal face then suddenly brightened. It grinned towards the succubus in its own broken way. "It's not here. He hid it. All of it. Didn't say where. Luck, though." And she moved back into the shadows as she began to push the door shut again.

[Bir]

The succubus let out a high pitched screech. It seemed to be more of a laugh then anything.

"Foolish rotting once human! I have personally come here to tell Qabian, and since he's not here I'm telling you he can keep whatever. We're going to make bigger bears!"

The succubus ran her fingers through Malorii's hair like a lioness savoring the taste of a fresh kill. She tugged through the knots of congealed blood and ebony strands purring.

"Qabian has no bargaining chips for my master anymore, he won and Qabian lost. "

The succubus turned around and wheeled Malorii out towards the lane again. However, before she got far she took the red marker that had found it's self a home in her bodice. in large red letter she wrote.

QABIAN DOES THINGS WITH SHEEP IN A LEWD MANNER! B( o Y o )BS

The succubus was lost in thought, the technicality in this wasn't a defeat but it wasn't a win either. There was only one thing to do in this situation.

Booze, lots and lots of booze. Not because the succubus enjoyed getting drunk mind you, but fed off the desires of those enthralled deep in drink and lost in the eyes of a beautiful lady. Lust fueled her, she stared down at Malorii.

"You know what?" She purred, "I bet a bunch of forsaken guys would think you're the cats meow. Let's go see how much!"

The succubus shimmied in pride and cut the strips of restraints from Maloriis wrists with her nails. She then proceeded to help the corpse to it's feet. She took the whip from her side and turned it into a make shift leash. This was going to be fun. Bir told her to take care of Malorii, and who says zombies don't need love?

"Malorii, I bet you're the only virgin left in all of sin'dorei society. Oh yes you are!"

She pinched the corpses cheeks, albeit the disdain the succubus had for her rotting companion was now replaced with the thrill of taking care of a small puppy, or a plant whichever had the longest life span. Undercity wasn't far off, it would be back to Silvermoon then to the translocation orb. She would then put Malorii up on auction for a single night. This would give master some time to think, as well as make him a little cash and help someone fall in love.

After all what kind of succubus would she be if she didn't help bridge the fondation of a corpse on corpse romance. Hell, with the way the R.A.S was working now a days Malorii and her potential auction day guy, could have an entire house hold of children. Granted they'd be abominations but they'd still be cute. Then Bir would REALLY thank her. Helping his pet find romance in this deep state of compilation as well earning some cash too?

Oh just wait till the girls in the nether hear about this one.

(( Bir is gonna flippp shittt once I feel like writing it XD ))

[Kovan]

(( Omg I.. I dont think one thread has ever made me laugh as hard as the last three or four posts. THis.. This is awesome..))

[Skafloc]

(( Omg I.. I dont think one thread has ever made me laugh as hard as the last three or four posts. THis.. This is awesome..))

(( I can't help but thin the title "Weekend at Bir's" would have worked well here. ;) ))

[The Shadow]

It was the faint echo of the ‘song’ that awakened The Shadow. A sound it had not heard for some time whispering from unimaginable distance in lonely sotto voce. It drew The Shadow outward and spoke to it of promise, of oaths, of ashes and most urgently of life. The Shadow writhed, the ‘song’ having grasped hold of its complete attention, giving breath to old sensations that in part sparked its creation. Darkness, pain, poison…

… and emotion. With wakefulness and alertness came cold anger and a hunger for suffering. Words heard that day by the Host were taken and fed upon, nutrients The Shadow used to feed its rage and turn it into hate. Hate that in turn was molded as so much clay into an avatar. With the skilful hands of an artist The Shadow worked the hate slowly into the form of the Betrayer, the Assaulter, The Priest. Each detail was meticulously sculpted in stark relief from the detail of his visage down to the minutiae of his decay. Dark tendrils of The Shadow’s will tooled the last motes of hate until at last it stood back to admire its work. With a breath it brought the avatar to life, watching as it turned its head to regard its creator with all the disdain and arrogance of its inspiration. The Shadow smiled and nodded to its creation in greeting before tearing into it with iron teeth and razor claws.

The avatar screamed as hate made flesh rent asunder in pieces, tossed aside with abandon. As each piece fell away it dissolved back into incorporeal Words, which in turn again fed hate which restored the avatar for further rending. The Shadow tossed back its head and hissed in its glee at the cycle of mutilation, growing ever more violent as the cycle continued.

With each tearing the words were spent and purged, replacing hate with satisfaction. The avatar weakened and broke, lying at last in spent defeat. The Shadow loomed over the remnants and with a wave of its hand dismissed it back into the recesses of its mind.

All the while the ‘song’ continued. The Shadow hearkened and began to laugh.

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

He awoke with a start, sending his pillow falling from the bed to the floor. The blankets were twisted around his legs and bunched up such that half his body was exposed to the chill night air. Looking over he saw that she was completely uncovered.

He carefully fixed the blankets, trying not to disturb her sleep. All the while he tried to recall the details of the dream, but it escaped him. That he was dreaming however was clear, his heart still beat a swift rhythm in response to it. Slowly it quieted its rapid drum beat to settle back into a normal pace.

Sighing he pulled the covers back over her and nestled in close. She stirred, a soft moan escaping her lips as her head turned slowly to regard him through half closed eyelids.

“Hmm. What is it?” she whispered sleepily.

He brushed her cheek delicately. “Nothing. Just a bad dream I think. Its over now, go back to sleep Evanthe.”

“MmmHmm.” She sighed before drifting back into slumber.

[Bir]

(( Nott written by me-- but I wish it was. ;P<3 This is open to those in booty bay and those in undercity )

Dorthia Wilson fumbled with the hearth stone on the lopsided dining room table. She was a simple retired farmer taking up residence in a little cottage that was nestled right between the border of the Eastvale logging camp. She traced her wrinkled old fingers across the ridges till she found the channel.
An old scruffy tabby cat purred next to her feet.

"Oh, these old bones mittens.. these old bones."

The cat mewed loudly as if in agreement. The old woman sat down on the large rocking chair slowly and smiled as the hearth stone came to life.

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

"Heeeelllllllllooooo Azeroth!! A goblins squeaky voice sizzled over the the hearthstone.

"You're listening to 103.4 KBLZ! The New sound of Azeroth! I'm your host Grinnie Sprinklerocket!"

A clown horn was heard behind the background.

"Boy have we got some -HOT- topics for you today!"

The sound of a frying pan is heard in the background.

"First order of bussines is whats going on in Stormwind! It seems no tax cuts will be held for the towns folk in stormwind this month, Lady Prestor still denies any gossip of Stormwind going through a recession. HA! just tell the people in old town that!"

A sound of a baby crying in the background is heard.

"Also there has been little news of the surge in Darkshire pushing back the recently departed back into their graves. With money spread far between the provinces and little to no support being sent to Redridge and Darkshire, it leaves the people wondering about the lavish funds being sent to Outlands."

A chicken noise is heard in the background.

" Farmer Kent from Goldshire had this to comment."

A man with a scratchy voice speaks up.

"They care more about the people in Outlands and all that energy then they do about their own people back home. Our crops are dieing and the defias keeps moving in!"

Another chicken noise is heard in the background followed by a loud shotgun noise.

"Next up we take you live to an event in the UNDERCITTTYYY!!!"

Ghost noises and zombie groans are heard in the background.

"Where an auction has drawn quite the attention from the mage and warlock populace. Find out what makes this auction SOOOOO AMAZING! But first a word from our sponsor!"

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


An upbeat musical tone is heard coming from the hearthstone, Old lady Dorthia shakes her head listening.

"Mmmm MMM! That sure does smell good Cindy!" A perky male voice quips.

"Gee, thanks Mike! It sure is Smooth and Robust just the way i like it!"

"Oh? How well is it cindy?"

"How well? It's SOWELL BRAND COFFEE!"

The voices cut to a little jingle of Cindy and mike singing.


"For a fresh start on a long grind!
Drink Sowell coffee so you don't loose your mind!
So smooth and robust it really is a must!"
It's How well?

SOWELL BRAND COFFE!! CHA CHA CHA! "

http://i112.photobucket.com/albums/n170/xiexieni/Sowell.jpg


((Dedicated to Sowell with love. ))

[Izrail]

"For a fresh start on a long grind!
Drink Sowell coffee so you don't loose your mind!
So smooth and robust it really is a must!"
It's How well?

SOWELL BRAND COFFE!! CHA CHA CHA! "

http://i112.photobucket.com/albums/n170/xiexieni/Sowell.jpg

((Dedicated to Sowell with love. ))

((This killed me.))

[Doctor Leibowitz]

The Elven guard leaned idly against the gate, his partner snoozing in the shade nearby. He listened to the distant sounds of the city and sighed. Joining the guards had seemed like such an obvious choice; being paid for standing around all day in a snappy red uniform, impressing the ladies with his authority, martial bearing, and stunning hair. Why did he have to be assigned to one of the lesser gates to the Dead Scar? His partner was elderly and boring, and there was no one to boss around, no one to flex for, no one to be stunned by the smile he'd spent hours practicing in the mirror.

A noise, and he sprang to terrified alertness. Someone was knocking on the gate.

He turned to face the door, hand on his sword. "Who.." He squeaked, and cleared his throat. "Who goes there?"

A hissing whisper answered him. "Open."

"No entry here! Off with you!"

"I've no time for this. Kill him."

The elf stared at the door in bewilderment, then spun around to the sound of a footfall behind him. He was just in time to see his partner, eyes clouded with swirling shadow, bring his sword down in a deadly arc.

The old guard stepped over the corpse and unbarred the gate. It opened to reveal an undead in a sackcloth robe, leaning on a curved bone cane. It waved a skeletal hand, and the shadows faded from the old elf's eyes. He staggered back in astonishment, tripped on his partner's corpse, and sprawled on the cobblestones.

He raised his shaking blade toward the apparition. "Stay back, Scourge! I killed a thousand of your kind in the last war, and I can take you too!"

The undead's parchment skin twisted into a sneer. "Calm yourself, breather. I am Doctor Joachim P. Leibowitz, of the Royal Apothecary Society. An ally." He stepped forward, his cane clacking on the cobblestones.

"But..." The old guard gestured to the dead elf.

"He was an impediment. I trust you will not be. I am displeased, elf. I return from the land of ice and malice, and she is not here to attend to me. The ashen plain is barred to me, my eyes there blinded. What should be still and silent is in flux."

"I... what?"

"Malorii, you blithering fool, Malorii, project 27, the Maiden of Ashes! I cannot hear her thoughts, her soul is distant or warded, the hooks and lines I placed within her very being to tie her to me are strained to the breaking point." The old elf tried to rise. The Doctor stepped forward and planted his cane on the elf's chest, driving him back to the ground. "She is mine, breather. None can steal her from me. She can never be free of me."

The elf lay on the ground. The Doctor stood over him. Across the street, a window opened. A tinny, distant voice drifted out.

"Well, Grinny, body auctions are nothing new in Undercity, but this one is something else! A gorgeous elf girl, a real knockout, died in the prime of her life! She's all in one piece, pretty black hair, pale skin, a few broken bones and scrapes and a number tattooed on her upper arm, but other than that totally pristine condition! Now, some folks might..."

[Bir]

(( YESSSS OH YESSS OH YEAAAHH /moan.. I am saving your baaabby make me better<3 ))
A letter addressed for one Qabian Amberlight, its letters hastily written.


Dear Qabian,
I'm sure you're well aware I have... no, had.. something better than what you could ever give me. What you have is mine, anyway. What makes you think you have the right to keep it from me? I will make everything right soon, then you'll be in trouble.

I will have my salvation. She will be pleased with me. She won't be happy if you make me angry. Give me what is mine.

~Bir Romine.
P.S. Kovan said he could give you those tears, maybe. Ask him, they're his not mine.

[Doctor Leibowitz]

An old dwarf snoozed under a palm tree, his fishing pole forgotten. His hearthstone lay in the sand beside him, chattering unheeded.

"...the hourly recap. The action is heating up at the Undercity flesh auction, where the bidding for a pretty young elf corpse has been interrupted by a gentleman claiming to be the rightful owner. We take you there now, live on 103.4 KBLZ!"

*hiss**crackle*

"...usurpers! My scalpel, mine alone, sculpted the heart that lies within..."

"Ok, Doc, fine, but lissen, unless you got some proof there's nothin' I can..."

"Preposterous. All relevant documentation has been classified Dire Secret by the Society; producing it for perusal by this plebian rabble is utterly out of the question. Tell me this, wretch, what thieving scoundrel brought my work, my magnificent masterpiece, to auction?"

"Er, it was a demon, not sure the name... she signed here, see, but in Demonic, and..."

"Don't show me the glove when I ask for the hand, commerce-drone! Who, who was the demon's master?"

[Sabachthan]

(( OK -- 4 powerful weavers of the Dark Arts, all vying for the same thing? This is classic. I am loving this. ))

[Qabian]

Qabian rubbed at his lower back as he gingerly sat down in the chair before his desk. He sucked at his swollen lower lip as he wrote.


Bir,

Take it. It wasn't about my right to do anything. It was about getting something out of this for me. Why would she leave something like that with me? It still makes no sense. She wasn't an idiot. I don't expect you to have the answer.

I don't need it.

The girl told me what you've done. Fix her or kill her. If you do the first, she lied. If you do the second, I did.

~Q

In the envelope with the letter is a folded sheet. On one side is a map Bir drew himself. On the other is a rough sketch of Stranglethorn marked with an X.

[Bir]

Bir looked over the map with wide eyes, was this for real? Absolutely not. He could never trust a wolf again, ever. This had to be fake. A smile touched his lips anyway as he wrote back.


Dearest Qabian,
It is my intention to restore her to her former glory so I might get my shot at salvation. If I do any less, I won't be worthy. The doctor will make me well if I do good. I only do good, as you know.

She wasn't an idiot and neither am I.

Sincerely,
Bir Romine.
P.S. Did you ask Kovan for his tears? You will have them if I get my salvation.


And with that, Bir faintly wondered if Cattora ever made it to Evanthe...

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

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

A cracking voice echoes as a large skinny man steps on stage, he's wearing a dusty ring masters tailcoat. The tabard of the darkmoon faire save for the tears and the inverted colors. He removes the top hat from his head as wispy billows of spider thin white hair tuck around his eyes.

"I'm your host of sin, I'm the ghost catering to the wants of mortal and not so mortal men, I'm the Jolly Roger and this here's the Devils Dancin' Floor!"

And with a wave of his hand small fireworks branching in blues and red explode from the bottom of the stage. A single spot light orbits around the broken tiles. The Auction has been mostly where it always had been. The rogue quarter renting out room every other friday night for the body auctions to pedal their fleshy wears. Cages line up behind the jolly roger and the populace of the cheering crowd.

Indeed, this was going turning into a large turnout of mostly warlocks and mages. Jolly Roger scanned the crowd a smirk spreading across dust cracked lips.

"We do indeed have something of real value... Boils and Ghouls.. It seems our dear own Dr.Leibowitzs' play thing has gone and lost her soul.. mmm how misfortunate for him.. AND FORTUNATE FOR YOU, THE BIDDERS! "

The crowd grew into an uproar some whispering about the things they've heard about the good doctor. Others frothing at their mouths reaching for their wallets. The Jolly Roger cackled and then made a great show of hushing the crowd his bony fingers to his lips.

"Shhhhh.... All is fair in love and war, finders keepers losers weepers.. Before we get to our Dear Doctors Lovely Lost Assistant .. we have other girls for you FRESH FROM EASTERN PLAGUE LANDS!"


***Bzzzttt CRACK!******

Dottie Wilson was busy washing her dishes as she shook her head listening to the hearth stone radio. She shook her head pouring water over ceramic tea cups"


" HA! Do you hear that ladies and gentle men! Leibowitz himself it's been confirmed! "

Dottie stopped her rhythmic washing and quickly scuttled over to the hearth stone as quickly as her old legs could carry her. She turned up the volume, her breathing heavy she motioned for her lovely cat to be silent as she listened"

" Oh.. by the light.." Dottie picked up and held the hearthstone in the palm of her hand sweat dripping down her brow she walked upstairs to her bedroom and set it on the bed listening.

"The Doctor whom had been ordered to attend an excursion to northrend has returned only to find out, that his head nurse was kidnapped by a warlock Bir Romine and his succubus!----"

She feel to her knees and pulled out a small chain of finely crafted beads. Dottie Wilson began to pray. Memories flooded her mind. Memories of needles and sharp things that went places where they shouldn't belong. She knew what they where doing..

"Maria, gratia plena
Ave, ave dominus
Dominus tecum
Benedicta tu in mulieribus"

She didn't want to put those crates of grain there and then dissaper into the night, she didn't want to listen to him. What happened was supposed to make people better, but for all the wrong reasons. That poor sweet girl with the freckles and the wide grin who loved that boy so. Dottie Wilson still clutching her prayer beads in one hand reached under the bed pulling out her quilting set.

Ave Maria
Mater Dei
Ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Ora pro nobis
Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Nunc et in hora mortis
Et in hora mortis nostrae
Et in hora mortis nostrae
...oh may the light have mercy on my eternal soul!

They would find the body of Dottie Wilson the next day, self inflicted wounds of sewing needles pushed into bloody wrists. Somewhere a lost plump tabby was wailing in sorrow.

[Doctor Leibowitz]

As the disgusting orgy of commerce began, the Doctor stalked to the back of the room, where an Abomination bouncer watched the proceedings with with slack-jawed incomprehension.

The Doctor tapped it's leg with his bone cane. "Hrm. L-series. Sub-optimal, but sufficient."

"What... we do?"

"Hold your hands out flat. Mmmyes, like that." The Doctor stepped into the brutes cupped hands. "Now hold me up. I must be seen." As the stitched hulk raised him above the crowd, the Doctor pulled from his robes a sealed jar labeled emergency larynx #918.

The room was an echoing cacophony of cackles and catcalls, as on the stage the prize of the evening was wheeled into view, glazed eyes staring, twitching against her restraints.

The showman strutted and preened as the crowd went frothing mad. "And can you put a price on the priceless, oh brave companions in our mercantile odessy? Well, we're going to try tonight! Ladies and Gentlemen, we will start the bidding at..."

"SHE IS MINE."

Necks creaked as heads turned towards the back of the room. Held aloft by monstrous hands, fingers wreathed in twisting shadows, the Doctor was beginning to... sing.

[Doctor Leibowitz]

She is mine, she is mine!
Can you fools not see, the sign
Of Doctor Leibowitz is graven on the inside of her skull!

She is mine, I will have her!
While you bicker and palaver
Take a moment to consider who it is you mean to gull.

I will have it, I will have her,
That most excellent cadaver,
Deny me and a twisted, bitter nightmare harvest you will sow.

She is mine from skin to heart,
A very violent work of art,
And my vengeance will be endless as the Fallen Five below.

So stand aside, bow your heads
In humility and dread,
For it doesn't take my incandescent genius to see

That she is mine, I, who made her,
Though her mortal friends betrayed her
I am ever her Good Doctor and she never will be
Free
Of
ME.

[Bir]

Cattora frowned her wings dropping in a slump, it had been four hours now since she had lost Malorii to the grips of the "good Doctor". He had come up onstage admist the chaos from patrons scrambling over each other in the pysic scream. He walked like a god among cockroches, no filth of spilled blood from the paniced crowd found its way to his robes.

The succubus sighed and found her way through the nether to her masters side. He had just taken her, snuffed out of her bonds like a candle.

"Why aren't you with Malorii." The slender elf's voice was completely flat. He was none too pleased to see the whore demon alone.

Bir crossed his legs on the bed he had been sitting in. He currently stayed at the inn in Sun Rock Retreat, with many Raven Cross. Most of the time he was alone there, feeling much too under the weather to assist in whatever battle was going on.

"Um, I kind.. of lost her. well not really lost.. some damn priest did a he-ooooge psychic scream and the crowd paniced, I couldn't break out of it til it was too late."

"Why the FEL would you do something so stupid?! Some -damn priest-?"

Cattora frowned, recoiling from the obviously upset warlock. She covered her head with her hands. She knew what was coming.

"WHO? WHO WAS IT?! WHO TOOK HER?!" Bir's voice rippled through the air, the sound unusually deep. The tauren made building felt the tremor of the short warlock's anger.


"It wasn't my fault I just put her up for auction cause she needs love! .. Y-you need money too! It was a good idea!! I think.. some doctor, Lei-bow-bitz.. Yeah, Leibowbitz, he took her.."

Bir's long dark brows shot up at the name. His lips quivered into an impish smile. The anger he felt tipped upside down in a total upheaval of emotion. Another outcry, however this time in a form of a laugh escaped the man.

"..The good doctor! Yes, he will fix me. Did he say where he took her? The apothecary no doubt, to fix the damage.. or try to. Cattora, you did good.. You got his attention!" Bir's voice broke as he spoke. Both of his pale green eyes were wide at this most joyous news. He was completely estatic, throwing himself at his minion to give her a back cracking hug. Just as quickly as he embraced her, he let her go and pranced about to collect his things.

Cattora frowned, this was indeed a bad thing that had happend. Leibowitz was renoun for his ablity in the art of 're-education.' No telling what he was up to now, granted he must be pretty pissed about what had happend to his dearest project 27. Cattora felt a small tingle come up her spine, this was something she hadn't felt in a long, long time. Today Cattora felt fear. All the while, her master's overjoyed laughter filled the room.

[Doctor Leibowitz]

Wilinus was dead. This he knew.

When living he had never really noticed the rush and surge of blood through his veins. But when it stopped, he knew.

He was dead, and he was in a coffin. So that was right.

It was quiet here, and dark. He could rest here forever...

There was a sound. It had been so long since there had been a sound.

Footsteps, coming closer.

Perhaps it was Death. Perhaps the Reaper had finally remembered him, and had come to take him to whatever happened next.

Would he be born again?

Maybe, if he asked politely, he could come back as a tree. He thought he would like that. Sun, and growing, and children picking apples from his branches in the fall.

With a deafening clatter, the lid of his coffin landed on the floor beside it. Wilinus gasped, and stared up into the cobwebbed gloom.

A fimiliar face loomed over him, dry and grim with eyes like cold and distant stars. It spoke.

"Fetch me needle, fetch me thread. Fetch my syringes and solutions. Light the lamps and charge the coils. Bring me scalpels, calipers, and clamps. Rise, servant. I have work for you yet."

[Doctor Leibowitz]

Deft hands roved like boney spiders over pale skin. Wounds were probed, examined, stitched up with a flash of a needle, sealed with a brief glow of sickly yellow light. Where the hands passed they left white scars on pale flesh, barely visible.

The Doctor spoke as he worked, addressing the dead girl on the table.

"You have done well in my absence, mmyess. Secrets you have gathered, and sickly souls sorely in need of treatment. Excellent work, my dear..."

The corpse strained against the restraining straps. The Doctor touched its forehead and it stilled, though its glazed eyes remained fixed on him.

"Hush, child. Mmmyesss... you can feel something missing, can't you, a yawning void within you. I am the good Doctor, my child, and I will make you well again... and you will help me do it."

He turned to attend to the mass of bubbling vials and twisted tubes on the workbench beside him. He selected a crucible filled with simmering dark-red fluid and a small, fine-bristled brush.

"A simple variation, my dear, on a tactic we devised during the early days of the war against the living. A certain sign, inscribed in curdled blood upon a ghoul, would cause it to hunt and devour those it loved in life before all others. It guided and channeled the ravenous hunger along the bonds of affection, the ties of the soul, between the living and the dead. A delightful strategem, an assault directly on what the breathers held most dear."

The cadaver moaned as the Doctor slowly drew a circle over its unbeating heart, then deftly filled it with a spiral of spidery runes.

"Turn the charm in upon itself, however, and self is what you shall seek, mmyesss..."

He finished the final rune with a flourish, and stepped back as the corpse began convulsing. It arched against its bonds, head thrashing this way and that, sniffing at the air. The Doctor stepped forward and fastened an iron collar around its neck.

"You smell it, scent it, sense it, don't you? Your self, your soul, is still upon this plane! Come, my dear, my daughter, my dancing blade, we hunt!"

[Bir]

Gavin woke.

The bedchamber was cold. He could see the dead white ashes in the fireplace. The moonlight shone through the open window like an inconvenient blessing from a distant god. Had he left the window open? He groaned and rolled out of bed. As he padded across the cold stones to close the shutters, he heard quiet laughter behind him. He had heard the laugh before; from his own lips, when he was a child, playing with rabbits with his knife. A crack, a sharp pain in the back of his head, and the world went white, then black.


Gavin woke.

He was face down in mud, and someone was sitting on his back. His hands were tied behind him. He turned his head to the side, out of the muck, and gasped for breath. He saw branches, and the distant flicker of torchlight. He heard human voices and the baying of hounds. He tried to scream for them to help him, free him, but cold fingers closed around his throat and squeezed.

"Shhhh..." a voice above him whispered. Panic surged through him, he thrashed and struggled for air. The hands around his throat inched tighter, the fingers like links of an iron chain. His limbs were going numb. His vision was going dark.


Gavin woke.

His left hand hurt terribly, and there was something sticky on right cheek. He couldn't move; he was strapped to a table, bands across his wrists, his legs, his chest and forehead. He stared at the ceiling. There were chains hanging from it, with hooks on the end. One of the hooks had something on it, twitching.

A voice was speaking. It reminded him of the sermons in the local chapel, but it echoed strangely.

"Exemplary work, Slurvin. All the way from Southshore, alive and in servicable condition. Except for the hand..."

"Got hungry. Eheheheheh..." The laugh.

"Hrm. Mmyes... and the ear?"

"Making a necklace. Heh."

"Mmm, indeed? I suppose we all require hobbies to wile away the sleepless nights. I collect butterflies, myself. Poison them gently, so as not to damage the wings. Impale them, carefully, on little pins. Preserve them for posterity. But I ramble. Let the procedure... Hrm... Proceed."

Boney fingers held his nose and forced the mouth of a bottle into his mouth. The liquid was sweet, like lead, but with a bitter, burning aftertaste. As he coughed and sputtered, a wizened face moved into his view. The nose was gone, the teeth were bared, the eyes were black pits with yellow points of light deep within.

"Hark unto my words, human. I am the good Doctor, and you will do... hm... as I say."

Tendrils unfurled in his mind, like roots of an unnatural tree. Wherever they touched, his mind went cold and still. It was getting hard to think.


Gavin woke.

There was a clang as the huge cauldron he had been carrying fell to the floor. He was cold, dressed in sackcloth, barefoot on a stone floor. He was so tired he could barely stand. He raised his hands to his face. The left was gone, a two-pronged metal hook in its place. The right was calloused and bruised. His arms were thin, so thin.

A figure swathed in robes rose from the desk where it had been writing. Two yellow points of light regarded him coldly.

"Hrm. Broken already? Mmm... duration has improved, but remains insufficient. Not yet suitable for mass production. A failure, but an instructive one. Mmyes... Slurvin, kindly take him to the laboratory for dissection... and then have Wilinus deliver the bits to Fuely in assembly."

Footfalls behind him. He turned, too slowly. Chill, thin metal opened his throat and spilled his life out on the stones. His vision faded.


Gavin woke.

The world was smaller than usual. He felt huge, and slow, and cold. His thoughts moved like tar.

A hollow voice addressed him from down near his waist.

"Right. Fully functioning, are ye? Better be. Shift yer bloated carcass up those stairs and take a left. Look fer a stiff in a red robe, he's Abomination dispatch today. Ya got that, rotbrains?"

It took Gavin a moment to remember how to speak.

"Us... hear... and... obey."

"Then get going."

Gavin went.

[Doctor Leibowitz]

^^((Previous post was an old story of mine. I had lost it, Mal found it somewhere.))

[Bir]

(( Yeah my bad. I'm used to just posting what I get in my PM box! XD Who's turn is it anyways!? Is it mine?! ))