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About Qismett

  • Rank
    Junior Member
  • Birthday 03/14/1978
  1. (( Note: This is a little back-story, starting a few months ago and leading into the present. Names and locations have been changed to protect the deviant... oh wait.. >.> <.< )) He stands, watching her strider carry her off to her new life. Their conversation had ended up being little more than an instruction on a life, entitled. It all seems so new, alien to her... To Qismett however, there is nothing new about this. She will adapt to her new position and husband, while he is destined to bite his tongue and bide his time. Already, his presence stirs controversy and kindling to the flames licking at her heels... No, this was not acceptible to him. Contingencies and plans have already been set in motion, it is time to leave her to fly on her own. "Good bye, my queen..." He speaks aloud, naught but the wind and the flickering flames remain to hear it... Sunwhisper Estates, Winterspring The baron paces the empty hall, his engorged frame continuing to shiver beneath a seeming mountain of furs, "Infernal Magistrate! Deny ME an audiance?" He pauses beside the roaring firepit in a vain attempt to thaw his meaty fingers. Even after a year Derrian simply cannot grow accustomed to the frigid conditions of Silvermoon's farthest, and most out of the way holdings here in winterspring. At first, he had been furious, the fire burning within him at the knowledge that he had been effectively banished to this frozen hell had kept him warm enough. That and the Magistrate's daughter, rather. She had been slim, even by quel'dorei standards, and while not overly comely, she still managed to get whatever she wanted through the proper display of enough bared flesh... A talent many of her kind have developed into a near artform. Ultimately, that was her ticket to freedom from her father, and once more from her new baron lover and his frozen lands. Walk of Elders, Silvermoon City "What do you mean, she's gone? Explain yourself, messenger!" Magistrate Tellari seethed at the thought of that pig of a man being even in the same room as his daughter, but now to have her go missing as well? The messenger, sweating under the sun and interrogation, recites his practiced reply, "Sire, Barron Derrian Thendris requests additional men... Your daughter has gone missing and he intends to find her and return her to you safe and sound... But with the exceptionally harsh conditions... the bear-folk have become increasingly hostile." "Are you certain she did not simply leave your Baron's side, after coming to her senses, and returns home herself, whelp?" Any attempt at hiding the contempt the Magistrate holds for this man and all under him has long since faded, the only glimmer of amusement came when he signed the papers assigning him to the frozen north of Winterspring, as far from home as could have been arranged. That his daughter fancied this man was beyond comprehension, however it can be surmised that she simply became overwhelmed with wanderlust. Knowing how her father felt for the man, she was certain they wouldn't remain in the same place for long. "Magistrate... the Baron suspects foul play... There was evidence of a struggle in her room, and all of her clothes and belongings remained. He implores your help in this matter..." "Enough! It does not surprise me that the whore of a daughter I had would find distraction from your master in the arms of another man, and leave with him with little or no notification. These signs of a struggle, you say? I say is her snubbing her nose at the man. Return to your wasteland. Tell your master to gather up her sheets and take a big whiff. And do not darken the stones of Silvermoon City again." He had expected this sort of response, the Baron had initially done just that, in fact. While the Magistrate was more than likely correct on this... "And what of the blood found in her room, sire? Surely you don't..." "Blood?" The Bulwark, Tirisifal Glades In the moonlight, not much seems changed. The frequent rains continually wash away the stench of decaying flesh and betrayal, leaving one to wonder if it all had even happened. Had it all been a dream? The scourge... Arthas... "Qiz'mt..." A familliar itch at the back of his mind draws the knight from his reverie, two eyes meet eight as he catches sight of his companion. "Is everything in place, En'yrr'a?" A psychic nod is her only reply. Qismett nods solemnly, pointing his feet in the direction of Brill and starting the long, slow walk home. "Then let us take our leave..." A silvery spider, slightly larger than a man's fist, falls in beside the man in red...