This is another new story just trying it out. The next CoW chapter is ready just waiting for edits tomorrow night

Ilia- A land steeped in magical traditions and home to some of the brave men and women who have fought valiantly against the dragon kin who seek to tear away the fabric of their world. 

Warden- The name given to those gifted in fighting prowess, heroes who defend Ilia’s peoples from various monsters and the ever crafty dragons that seek unnatural, otherworldly powers.  They are an exclusive order, one in which only graduates of Arcadia are allowed to fill in the ranks. 

Arcadia- Legendary school of heroes, it is the training grounds for anyone who dreams of becoming a warden, guardian of the realm of magic.  It is here that Micaiah, and her friends train night and day in the hopes of becoming true heroes. 

Ethereal- A magical substances used for powering most of the magically attuned devices in Ilia.  The Humans and Laguz, farm this substance for their magical devices.  The dragons harvest it to augment their already supernatural powers, often wrecking havoc on the world. 

Micaiah- The granddaughter of Athos, the world’s most powerful mage and one of the twelve Saints, Micaiah has just turned 16, old enough to begin her training at Arcadia, as a mage.  She tends to come across as incompetent, and naïve, though truthfully she is a power spell caster and master of Light Magic

Samson- A third year student at Arcadia, and son of Caineghis, lord and king of the Laguz and one of the twelve saints, Samson is a prized student under the qualification of warrior.  He has a strong, somewhat overbearing personality as well as a warm, gentle side.  

Jill- A knight in training who and is one of Micaiah’s roommates.  Jill like many students at Arcadia, comes from a line of warden’s, and as such carries a strong sense of tradition.  She can be bossy but is also a strong leader and capable follower, able to fit whatever role is needed.

Laura- A cleric and Micaiah’s other roommate.  Laura has a kind and gentle heart, but also lacks the self confidence necessary to stand up for herself.  She tends to follow the lead of the strongest personality in the room, without question.  She possesses a wide array of fears and phobia’s stemming from her own personal insecurity. 

The sun shined bright, over sea of trees that surrounded Arcadia Academy.  It’s light illuminated every leaf, at least it seemed to in Micaiah’s eyes.  The little grove seemed to glow with summer beauty.  The thick green grass had grown in full, uninhibited by a gardener, each stem placed according to nature’s design.  The willowy trees shimmered under the sunlight, letting a single beam of light break through its canopy unhindered, shining down on Micaiah, and giving her an otherworldly appearance, as she lay in the grass, running a twig between her fingers.  The feel of the wood satisfied her, as she gazed up at the heavens, her mind empty to everything but the wind.  In an almost inaudible whisper, she spoke, “Caramel apple; sour apple taffy; blue berry pie; fruit cocktail; parfait.” 

            The snap of a twig interrupted her cadence,  Looking up, for she was laid out flat on her back, she saw a large figure looming above her, appearing as if it may have been close to double her weight, and more than two feet taller.  “Chocolate covered cherry.”  The scrumptious candy was a good depiction of the man-tiger that stared down at her, his cherry colored main ran long down his back, and over his shoulders, accenting his dark chocolate colored skin.  His muscles ripped beneath his decorative, Laguz tunic, as he let out a full, lion-esc yawn. 

Micaiah smiled, when she saw his, large cat ears twitch and his mane ruffle as he shook his head, and giggled when he tilted his head back and let forth a powerful roar.  Bird and small forest animal scurried at the sound of his voice, as they would in the wake of a powerful hunter. 

            “Why hello there, Samson,” the smile on Micaiah’s face was incorrigible, as she rolled forward, up into a sitting position, with her legs folded in front of her.  Samson took a spot beside her and sat, stretching out one leg in front with the other curled slightly, slumped leisurely by her side.  “I knew I would find you out here,” he said in his typical deep voice.  You can take the nature out of the girl, but you can’t… take nature…out of… or something or other.” 

            Micaiah laughed, and reached for the stem of a flower beside her.  She pulled it up by its roots, and brought it before her eyes.  Gently she twisted it, back and forth, watching the white petals dance.  “It’s not scary, is it,” she asked.  “The Academy

            Samson smirked, “Nothing for the granddaughter of the great Athos to fear by my reckoning.”  And then he laughed, a full hearty bellow that made his powerful muscles shake and ripple like a jungle cat.  “You human’s do concern yourselves too much with fear.  Fear is like death, you cannot let it press on you day to day, or you will wake up and find that you’ve become an old hag.” 

            Micaiah wasn’t bothered by the comment; instead she turned to Samson and smiled.  “And you will be there, to laugh at me while I am old.”  Together they laughed the way only two souls who truly understood one-another could. 

* * * * * * * * * *

The large stone steps in front of Arcadia’s main gate, were lined with faculty, instructors and their assistants.  Spaced out before them were the new first year students, in eight single file rows stretching down the walkway and grass field.  Twelve spaces back, in the fifth column, Micaiah stood shoulder to shoulder with two other first years, a look of forced concentration pressed into her expression.  They stood and listened, as various instructors, and faculty came up to speak, informing her, and the other first years, of the honor they were being given, to study as a student of Arcadia, the line of prestige they were becoming part of, and all that would be expected of them.  Micaiah could see the two girls on either side of her shaking.  To her left, a tall girl with a tall pink ponytail, and hard set brown eyes, stared straight ahead.  Her face was locked, in an iron gaze, noble, pristine, the expression of a trained soldier.  Her body trembled with determination and the joy of yet another mountain to climb. 

            Contrary to her, the girl to Micaiah’s right, looked as if she could become ill at any moment.  Her wide eyes glare often looked on the brink of tears.  Her hair was short, crop cut, and black fitting her small demeanor.  Poor dear, Micaiah thought, with a visual frown, her sympathy pouring out, before the trumpets sounded.  The students all went into a formal salute, all except for Micaiah who was too busy people watching to keep pace with everyone else. 

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

“I had no idea room assignments were going to be placed in accordance with commencement ceremony,” Micaiah said, as she prepared the bunk off to the corner, away from the two that were stacked.  Jill, the pink haired girl who had stood beside Micaiah during the ceremony, was preparing her own bunk, beneath Laura’s who was the girl with black hair. 

            “No reason not to,” Jill said with a shrug as she folded her sheets back perfectly.  Then she clapped her hands together and turned to face Micaiah and Laura.  “We should set some ground rules since we’ll all be living together from this point forward.  First of all, no guys in here after curfew, my record has been spotless coming in here, I want to leave Arcadia much the same.” 

            “But then how are we to have sex, well provided we aren’t able to get into the boy’s dorm.”  The question rolled off of Micaiah’s tongue almost absentmindedly as she continued to fumble with her bed sheets.  “No, that’s not right,” she decided, and began to make her bed over again. 

            Laura squealed, and Jill stood and stared, her mouth agape.  “W-w-why are you even concerned with that right now.  We just started hear, have some discretion.” 

            “I suppose Micaiah said with a shrug and a giggle. 

            That night Micaiah fell asleep to the sounds of Laura’s sobbing, and Jill’s light snoring and yet undisturbed.  They blended smoothly with the chirping of owls, and the swoosh of the nightly wind come in through the window.  Her previous fears seemed far away, this was new, and exciting, and best of all, she'd already been given friends to enjoy it with.  That night she slept soundly. 

            “TWEET, TWEET, TWEET,” Micaiah’s alarm clock blared, imitating the call of a canary, as daylight poured in through window beside her bed.  She stretched her arms, reaching out above her, before tossing back the sheets and yawning.  She saw that Jill was already awake, and in the corner quietly meditating while Laura continued to sleep.

            Micaiah gave little thought to either of her roommates, and left the room, with her wash bucket, bathing items inside.  There were a few other girls who trotted down the hall, with a similar idea, but where they stopped at the community shower, Micaiah continued on down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. 

            As she passed by the guys dorm she saw a flock of boys, tossing a soft skinned ball back and forth on a sandy lot.  They were cute, and shirtless, and waved to Micaiah as she passed.  She smiled and waved back, and continued on her way out into the forest.  She walked for half a mile, before finding a small pound with crystalline water, and, without hesitation, climbed below its chilled surface.  The shock from the cold water startled her, and drew Micaiah out of her sleep-like trance.  Her eyes opened wide and she took a deep breath, sucking in air, and then exhaling it with greater vigor. 

            She took the rest of her time slowly bathing, washing her long silver hair, and then made her way back to the dorm, wrapped in her towel.  This time, she held the attention of the boys playing ball a little longer as she passed by. She skipped up the stairs and back to her dorm room, where Jill and Laura were frantically getting ready. 

            “Where have you been,” Jill began to scold, but shook her head, she decided it wasn’t worth it.  “Classes start in fifteen minutes, you should hurry if you don’t want to be late.”  Jill let those be her parting words as she raced out the door, dressed in the full set of armor she’d brought from home, closely followed by Laura, who wore long flowing robes.  “Goodbye Micaiah, see you in class,” she said, before racing out the door. 

            A deep yawn fell from Micaiah’s lips, and she began to get ready at the same slow pace she had preformed all of her tasks that day, slowly pulling on her black tights, and lavender tunic.  When she left her room the halls were empty and not a sound came from any of the other rooms.  She walked down the familiar hall, humming a slow melody to herself, all the way to her first class.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“As students of Arcadia, its important to understand what we, and what the Warden Knights, stand for,” The Instructor began.  She and her students stood out on a wide stretch of open field, a quarter mile away from the castle itself.  The open space, and gentle breeze made it an ideal spot for combat training, testing students in the many real life scenario’s they would find themselves in, both as full-fledged warden’s and during their time at the academy, on graded, extra curricular assignments.  “Simply put we are an order of justice, and one of harmony.  Each of you will be focusing in an individual aspect of what will eventually be a core team.  Some of you are here to become knights, others mages, some to be archers, all of these are valid, and respected positions.  But it is functioning as a team that is most important, more-so than the prowess of any individual warrior…” Her voice trailed off, as she saw a straggler slowly making her way over to the field.  “I’m glad you could join us Micaiah,” she said with emphasis, though her sarcasm was lost on the silver haired girl as she broke into a sprint to take her place beside her classmates.  “Good morning, Miss Titania.”  She bowed low, as her parents had taught her to do with her superiors and then stepped in rank with the other students. 

            Rather than waste time on a lecture, Titania continued her speech, going on into the importance of teamwork, and giving several anecdotes, of heroes whose teamwork had prevented great catastrophe. 

            For this lesson, I want you to work in groups of three, a tank, a destroyer, and a medic, once you have your group stand together over there.  Groups began to form quickly, as Micaiah looked between boys and girl’s in her class, and quickly spotted Laura and Jill, standing side by side.  She waved to them, and hurried over with a wide smile on her face. 

            Laura looked nervously at Jill, and whispered something in the Knight’s ear.  Jill shrugged and nodded.  “But she’s our roommate, if we don’t stand up for her then who will.  Jill inclined her head, flagging Micaiah over and spoke softly once she got there.  “Laura will cover the medic’s position, and I am taking the point, I hope to god you are at least a half decent destroyer.” 

            Micaiah nodded eagerly. “I’m very good, at destructive light magic.”  Her answer drew a long sigh from Jill.  “Offensive light magic, you do know that’s the weakest form of offensive magic.  Why don’t you try some other spells, maybe fire, or ice.”  Micaiah’s brow furrowed but she nodded.  “Ok, I’ll do my best.” 

            Once all the students had been placed into groups, Titania handed a single slip of paper to each group.  On it was the picture of a small hairy creature, with long brittle nails, large wing-like ears, long flat nose, and sickly yellow skin.  “That is a hobgoblin.  There are plenty of them crawling about this forest.  It will be your job as a team, to find, and slay one.  When you are done bring proof of its demise back here.  The grading for this assignment will go as such; the group who brings back proof first, will get an A with extra-credit.  An A will go to everyone who brings back theirs within the first hour of the first kill, B’s to those in the second hour and so on.  I don’t care how long it takes you to find and kill one; don’t come back here until you do!” 

            Titania gave the group a stern careful look then set them off into the forest, in search of hobgoblins.  Micaiah and her group charged off with the rest, like a swarm, and slowly broke away as much of the herd did.  Their sprint soon fell to a light march, and Jill, started to watch the ground for tracks or any other tell tale signs that a goblin had been about. 

            The sun beat over them in the sky, its light, illuminating their path.  Jill took the lead, with Micaiah furthest behind and Laura in the middle.  Warmed by the breeze, Micaiah skipped behind her teammates, as she sang softly.  “Pumpkin pie, apple Danish, strawberry milkshake, cotton candy.”

            “Shhh,” Jill warned, with a finger over her lips. “ If you make too much noise you’re going to scare it away.”  Micaiah clasped her hands over her mouth, but continued to hum the melody, much softer.  Jill’s brown winced with irritation but let the trespass go, as they stalked deeper into the woods. 

            Sun had begun to set, and Micaiah, Laura, and Jill, still paced slowly through the woods.  Very clear signs of irritation marked Jill’s face, her eyebrow twitched, and beads of sweat ran down the side of her face.  She did her best to mask her footsteps, but her armor greaves clinked with every step.  “This is no good,” she sighed.  An A is beyond our reach now, we’d be lucky if we pass with a D.  Laura followed her closely, sulking, and Micaiah followed her, quietly humming.  Six hours of stalking through the forest had dulled all of their senses, so when they did happen upon a hobgoblin it caught all three by surprise.  The furry creature was half a human’s height, as it squatted in front of a bushel of berries sucking them down with audible enjoyment.  When it turned its gaze to the Micaiah and her friends, the lines of its drool double in size.  “Meeeat,” he growled and started to hop toward them.  Jill struck out first, brandishing her pole axe.  She drew the weapon high and then brought it down fast and hard over the goblin’s head; but with the speed of a jackrabbit it lept to the side evading her attack altogether.  The creature then drove forward, with his hand, its long fingernails acting like a dagger, aimed out, slicing through Jill’s exposed side.  Laura quickly began working on a spell of healing while Jill continued to chase down the monster, swinging her axe wildly. 

            “Micaiah, do something,” Jill scolded. 

            Her angry voice knocked Micaiah out of her daze, and she too began working on a spell.  A short incantation followed pulse of fire unleashed from her palm.  The fire dart whizzed towards its target and then fizzled out moments before reaching the hobgoblin. 

            “Useless,” Jill screamed, as she continued chasing the beast, but with a hop and a skip it darted around her axe and then off into the forest.  “MICAIAH, WHY CAN’T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT!”  Jill’s anger peaked and she continued to scream at the silver haired girl, with cutting words, until tears began to well up in her eyes.  “Just leave, now!  Laura and I are better off, just the two of us.”  And with that, Jill marched off in the direction the hobgoblin had fled, Laura not far behind.  She glanced once at Micaiah, a sympathetic look in her eyes, and then followed Jill, leaving Micaiah, to stand by herself in the forest. 

            Nightfall was soon in coming, as Micaiah trotted aimlessly through the forest.  She picked berries to eat, and sat by a shimmering pool to bask in her sorrow.  The moonlight reflected from the surface of the water, its large yellow-white texture consumed her thoughts.  Micaiah didn’t want to think of the assignment or her roommates.  “Some mage I am,” she said to herself.  A frown moved across her face and her eyes again filled with tears, as she touched the water’s surface creating ripples.  As her tears began to fall, she sobbed, and a horse cry caught in her throat.  Things had ended how they had always ended for her, she was alone, once again unable to conform to the world around her.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but rather she didn’t know how to.  Her tears brought back more memories, fresh scars, and waves of pain, drowning in her solitude, and then, through her choking sobs she heard a scream.  Though its pitch was higher than she’d ever heard speak Laura, she knew instantly that it was the cleric. 

            Micaiah’s body lept into action, before a single thought crossed her mind.  She raced through the forest, ducking the low branches and leaping over mounds and bushes, until she came upon the sight of a battle.  She first saw Laura, but the clerics screams of horror quickly brought her eyes to Jill.  The knight stood hunched forward, axe in her left hand, before a Hobgoblin as large as a small house.  In its mouth was a large chunk of flesh.  When Micaiah looked closer she saw that that large chunk was what remained of Jill’s right arm, and a good portion of her side.  The knight looked back, to Laura and Micaiah and in a breathless gasp said, “Run,” and then fell forward, into the dirt. 

            Tears ran from Laura’s face but all Micaiah could feel was anger.  She turned toward the monster, and screamed, screamed with all the fury inside of her chest, until she had the hobgoblin’s undivided attention.  The monster licked its jowls, and snapped hungrily at the air, and then, in a rush, dove toward Micaiah, it’s mouth open wide enough to swallow her whole. 

            The silver haired mage, managed to dive out of the way just in time, and turned to the monster with a look of sheer rage.  “Il batre tu Neuavac soo Heilokai… SPEAR OF GOD!”  Micaiah motioned a zagging pattern in the air, what followed was a loud crackling, and a beam of light poured down through the shadowy sky.  It floated, silently over the Hobgoblin before a pulse ran down it, and turned the monster in to a large mountain of crisp, smoking flesh.

            Both Laura and Micaiah breathed sighs of relief, before rushing to Jill’s side.  “This is too much, Laura wept, I can’t heal this kind of wound.  Micaiah nodded to her, and then began weaving another spell.  “Micaiah,” Laura started again.  “Its no use this is too much for anyone, and you’re a mage.”  Micaiah ignored Laura’s protest and continued chanting, weaving magics so ancient the language of her spell had long been lost to the seas of time.  She spoke slowly, binding each word to the next, and waved her arms rhythmically as tendrils of light interlaced her fingertips.  The tendrils then worked their way into Jill, and slowly but surely, her arm and torn flesh materialized, as a whole one again. 

            When Micaiah cut the flow of magic, her eyes dimmed, she coughed a spout of blood, and then fell unconscious. 

            Her body repaired and the pain all of a gentle ache, Jill pushed herself up from the ground with the use of her new arm.  “I’m alive,” She said, stunned that it was even possible.  She looked at Micaiah, and a light flicker of a smile crossed her lips.  She then looked at the roasted Hobgoblin.  “Ok,” She said with a nod, and lifted herself from the ground and went to collect her axe.  With her weapon she cut the goblin’s massive head from its shoulders and tied to a rope, then hoisted Micaiah onto her shoulder and nodded at Laura.  “Come on, lets head back.”        

Not Another Vampire Novel, chapter 1

“Relax and just have fun,” Hannah said before disappearing on the arm of some guy she’d met just twenty minutes before.  Things were moving fast, but then again things always moved fast for Hannah, even in high school.  She could know, within the first few minutes if she was going to fuck a guy, after that everything became a formality.  Just a little game of cat and mouse until she had him back in her bed, and believe me, Hannah was good at what she did, and come five a.m. when she was kicking Mr. tall and gorgeous out on his ass before he could even get his pants back on, he’d find out, girl’s can be cutthroat as guys.  Well at least Hannah could. 

            As I looked across the bar, the black and white lights fading in and out, and the loud mesh of people talking, Guys dressed in skin tight pants, dark brooding scowls, all of them trying to play the roll of some girl’s Edward, to girl’s clad equally in all black clothing, mimicking something from an Ann Rice novel, Hannah’s words played back in my mind, “relax and have fun,” there was no way in hell.

            That decided I shuffled over to the bar and ordered a Cosmo.  The bartender gave me that look, half sympathy, half pity, with a splash of cynicism, the one that said you poor little girl you are so out of your element.  I smiled and shrugged, after all, I kind of was.  He made my drink and walked back over, with long drawn out stride.  There were two bite mark tattoos on side of his neck, little black dots with trails of red coming from each.  I had to wonder to myself if this was really just a fad, or was it becoming a life style. 

            Techno music blared, filling gaps between the loud, one sided conversations between would be creatures of the night.  It was easy to sit and judge them; after all I was a little jealous.  Just like a lot of them, I was a hopeless romantic, I just didn’t have the courage to through my lot in with dream diary of sex starved house wife.  I could just imagine how much fun everyone was having, reveling in their fantasy.  How inviting the music and lighting and the crowd must have felt.  A room full of likeminded people, someone who you knew before you even started talking shared your interests.  They didn’t just come here to dance and mingle, they came because they belonged, like little oddly shaped cut outs of a 1000 piece puzzle.  Hannah belonged, I thought.  We’d both gone through are dark, witching sister’s phase in junior high, but Hannah never grew out of it.  She loved the occult; it was only natural that she would find her place among the nightwalkers of the lower north side.    

            Looking down at myself, I saw just how out of place I was.  Everyone else was wearing black nail polish, black boots with a million straps, I was wearing my blue fleas jacket, a pair of tight jeans—that showed off my butt nicely if I do say so myself—and brown uggs.  I wasn’t a mistress of the night, or Bella, looking for an Edward.  I was an out of place, dorky, twenty year old, looking for a big cocky smile and a warm laugh. 

            The bartender handed me the Cosmo and a concerned glance and then went back to helping other customers.

            I sat at the bar, sipping my drink, playing with my hair, waiting for Hannah to give me the queue that she’d found a bed buddy for the night.  I hoped it wouldn’t take too long, Hannah could be picky when she wanted to be.  I saw split ends.  I frowned. 

            “Is there a skunk in here, or do you always make that face?”

            I let my eyes drift up; standing next to me was a tall, guy.  Dark skin, a black guy, with short hair, and a weak, tired grin, like he’d just gotten shot down twenty times in a row, and I was his last attempt for the night.  I smiled. 

            He offered to buy me a drink.  “How… normal of you,” I replied. 

            “Normal…” He looked around; apparently he wasn’t too fast on the uptake either.  “Oh normal, ya this place,” He said with a chuckle.  “Not really sure how people strike up a convo in this place.  I guess vampresses don’t respond well to free alcohol.” 

            “Maybe you should offer them some blood.” 

            “Meh, I would, but the mosquitoes this summer are taking all I can spare.  Swear I got bit seven times just walking to this damned place.” 

            “So you live close then?”

            He looked at me hard then, sizing me up, trying to read my intentions, but there were no intentions to read, he was a friendly face in a room full of mock princes and princesses of the night, I wasn’t concerned with much else. 

            “I go to the University, art history major.”

            “Me too, I’m a literature major.” 

            And things from there, just kind of clicked.  No long brooding stares, no hungry eyes, no uncontrollable, forbidden lust.  We sat and talked, talked until the club started to empty, until Hannah told me she was heading back to the dorm, with a different skinny stern faced guy than before.  We talked until the place was about empty and the bouncer told us we had to leave.  From there we talked all the way back to my dorm.  We talked our way up the elevator, talked into the main living space, and since we were already that far, talked our way into my bedroom. 

            “So we really going to do this?” he asked, a little more bashful than I had expected. 

            “Grow some balls and pretend like you’ve been here before,” I mocked, with a playful giggle. 

He laughed at that.  He laughed, and put his arms around me, and kissed me, soft and sweet.  His lips pressed against mine until they parted, and his tongue slipped over mine.  Mouths locked, he lowered me on to my back, and kissed me, hard, his hands tickling up and down my sides.  Our lips parted momentarily as he slipped my shirt over my head, and then came back together and we kissed more.  I let him fumble with my bra for a while, every time he came closer to getting it unhooked his tongue would pull back, and when his tongue pushed forward, and he kissed me like he meant it, he would twist and pull helplessly.  I decided enough was enough and undid it for him.

            We laid, back down, and his kisses broke from my mouth and moved south.  His lips wrapped around my breast, his moist breath made my skin tingle.  His kisses then moved further, and further, and then skipped my twat entirely, instead going for my feet.  I leaned back and sighed, and giggled as he kissed and licked my toes, all the while my breathe grew steadily faster and I felt shivers go up and down my spine.  Then suddenly he stopped. 

            His kisses went back up my leg and then between my thighs, right where he was supposed to be.  My toes curled and I pushed the back of my head into my pillow.  I moaned like I was sixteen and getting licked for the first time.  At first enjoying the way he explored and then even more so when he gave his full attention to my clit.  I moaned and rolled for nearly ten minutes, and when I came, I was very generous with my screams. 

            He climbed on top of me after that, fumbling wildly with his boxers, pulling his dick out through a hole.  “Commitment issues?” I questioned.  Again he was slow to the joke, laughing a few moments later.  “Sorry, the boxers don’t come off until after the third date, it’s my rule.” 

            We both giggled and then he got his penis all the way out of his boxers, and he laid down on top of me.  I cradled him between my legs, sighing, gasping, and finally moaning as he pushed into me.  For someone so clueless he had amazing rhythm, rocking me perfectly from one orgasm to the next.  The hairs on the back of my neck shivered, and my whole body tingled as I felt more and more of myself.  I rocked my body against his, rested my arms on his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his waist.  I hadn’t noticed before, but he had a great body, cut, with large shoulders.  “Ah, ah!” I moaned, louder than I meant to.  He picked me up and pressed me against the wall, and screwed me hard.  His hips were a steady pounding rhythm, so good I had to gush to it.  With me pressed against the wall he grew carefree with himself, fucked me hard, leaned in, and started to bite gently on my neck.  The pain made me feel woozy with lust and I screamed, and dragged my nails against his back.

            The whole night went on like that; the two of us going at it like wild animals, fucking and screaming and cumming, without another care in the world. When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t remember when we had stopped or how many times I had came, just the light headed daze that still clouded my thoughts.  I looked over at the boy sleeping next to me; he looked even taller in the morning light.  His feet hung off of my bed, and his arms laid spread out, one over the edge of the bed, the other over me.  I brushed his face with the back of my fingers, with his eyes lazily shut, and his voice a low, soft snore, he looked adorable.  I kissed his cheek and started to whisper in his ear when I noticed, a sting behind my right ear.  I touched the spot, and felt a trail of hickies running up to a puffy spot.  Each time I touched it, it stung like crazy. 

            Shaking off the strange feeling I leaned back down, and whispered in his ear, “Come on Derek, its time to get up.” 

            Rolling over, he looked at me with big sleepy eyes, just begging for just another hour of rest.  He made a strong case, pulling me onto him, and kissing me passionately.  I kissed back, and let his hands settle on my naked butt, before curling up against him.  “Fine just another hour,” I said. 

            “Thank you Ashley,” he said, grinning.

            “You’re welcome baby,” is what I began to say when my eyes fixed on the mirror across from my bed, and saw myself, under the covers, lying on empty space. 

            I screamed.            

Children of Warcraft, In The Wake of Cataclysm

:) So happy I finally have a chapter to post.  My plan is to post one a week but we'll see how it goes.  Ok so story so far, because this is a bit of a time skip.  Elphinia Bronzebeard, the blood elf, adopted daughter of Muradin, ventured across the seas to Northrend in search of her dwarven father, where a shipwreck forced her to join forces with a small, and unortadox band of mercenaries, known simply as the Militia.  Her contacts in the north already slain by agents of the Lich King, Elphinia embarked on a journey with her new allies in search of her fathers whereabouts, leading her across northrend, from the floating spire Naxramus, to the deeps of Ulduar, and eventually to the tournament grounds, set in place by the Paladin, Tirion Fordring, in hopes of finding a force strong enough to topple the Lich King.  There she was reunited with her father, and by his side, along with her companions, set off for Ice Crown to break Arthas's hold on the world.  After many fierce and perilous battles, Elphinia has returned home to Azeroth with the Militia, as a permanent officer within their band, and though their home coming ushered in a world free of the Lich King, the world was far from at peace.  Upon returning to Stormwind, the Mercenaries discover that Deathwing, once earth warder, and Leader of the black dragon flight, turned traitor, has arisen from the bowels of deepholm, and brought with him, a vengeful wrought of destruction upon the world.

Elphinia turned her gaze to the south, letting the cold wet winter flakes scatter across the smooth side of her cheek.  Her penetrating emerald gaze fixed on tundra below.  There men, orcs, elves, and dwarves—the brave soldiers of the argent crusade—clashed with the undead minions of the Lich King.  Their dying screams echoed in her thoughts but only long enough for her to fasten an arrow to her bow, and let it slip between her fingers, chasing after the skull of a hulking, frozen, undead brute.  With a quick swipe of its arm, the monstrosity caught the bolt in the thick bone of its forearm. It howled, and then barreled toward Elphinia with the kind of hell-bent tenacity one saved for a mortal rival.  While most rangers would have fled to safer distance, to pick away at the beast with a flurry of arrow fire, the blood elf stood her ground, steeled her gaze, and drew two finely crafted scimitars from the sheaths at her waist.             

            As the beast came upon her, Elphinia dove in, tilting her body low jutting out beyond her feet as they drove like lightning.  Two rapid sidelong slashes separated the lumbering beast from its legs, legging it topple and roll over the rampart, down to the battle below.  However no sooner had she dispatched the undead horror than two more took its place chasing after her with fervor, swinging crude axes, tall and spiked, designed for the purpose of terrorizing their enemies.  Turning side over side on her heels, Elphinia skirting one blow, and brought her left sword up to gently parry the second.  Her third move was a leap and a hard slash in the direction of the two monsters.  Her right scimitar, Frost Fang, ran clean through one of the snarling undead’s throats, while her left blade, Howler, cut through the stomach of the other cretin soon after.  A brief pause in battle allowed Elphinia to feel her racing heart beat like a Drakkari war drum, while her eyes moved about the battlefield.  To her left, dangerously close to a jutting spire, which marked the edge of the aerial rampart, Norum, clashed with four abominations, the rapid strokes of his dwarven short sword, and the quick movement of his shield, turning what would be fatal strikes into glancing blows, kept the creatures at bay, but for how long Elphinia did not know.  Meanwhile Wiggles ran in an arching pattern to her far right, throwing spells of corruption and darkness behind him, and then stopped.  Bringing his hands into the air, one behind him and one aimed at his pursuers, he channeled fiendish magics through his body before releasing the power in the form of a shadowy bolt.  The black energy hit the seven shambling horror’s with a loud pop, and flash of warm black light.  When the flash had all but dissipated, Elphinia saw the remains of the monsters lying in a bloody watery heap. 

            All around her such battles took place, while up beyond the steps, which lead deeper into Arthas’s black citadel, Jim, Kontar, Rokzen, Shyss, and Lockagh, all clashed relentlessly against the undead orc who barred them entrance to the citadel’s inner sanctum.  Like a crashing tide Militia came at Saurfang the younger, and like gust of a mighty mountain valley, he threw them all back several paces, and all but Jim to their backs. 

            “Blasted undead son of a cocksucker,” Shyss grumbled as he reached for his double-sided hammer, Aegis.  With a loud grunt and no lack of effort, he hoisted himself back to his feet, turning the end of his hammer toward the black skinned orc.  “Mark my words, you black hearted beast.  Even if at the end of this day the Lich King has our souls, my hammer will split you damned skull.” 

            A toothy grin spread across the Orc’s lips, from tusk to tusk as his laugher bellowed.  “Serve? Bah!  You worthless vermin are not fit to serve the Lich King.  The ghouls will pick the flesh from your bones and when they are through I shall personally see to it that your skull is used as a piss pot.” 

            Howling with anger and righteous fury, Shyss Charged in, with Rokzen, in cat form close behind.  With an over-hand swing, Aegis met with the black Axe renown throughout the horde, for both its master and his father.  With a singled hand, Saurfang the younger locked the pole of the hammer under his axe and turned the attack down toward the ground, following it with a hard left hook that nearly took Shyss from his feet again.  Despite the stun, he managed to bring his shield up to block a second attack, before Rokzen came tumbling into the fray, dragging his claws against Saurfang black armor. Instead of pulling back as some might, the orc Death Knight drove in all the harder, knocking Rokzen away with the back of his axe, and then aiming down at the tiger-troll’s throat.  His attack proved unsuccessful, as Shyss dove forward, catching the blow on his shield, and let it slide off to the side.  The incredible impact however jarred the Paladin’s arm, causing a howl of pain to rush from his lips, yet before the pain could settle in, he felt the warm light of holy magic undoing the damage.  With a glance over his shoulder, Shyss nodded to Lockagh, before, hammering in again at Saurfang. 

            Kontar, and Jim were soon to follow, and with the combined strength of the four, they gradually broke through Saurfang’s defenses, carving through thick plate armor, and slicing through cold leathery flesh.  Their attacks did not come without cost however.  Both Shyss and Jim took on the impact of Saurfang’s brutal swings, braking thumbs, fingers, and jamming their arms out of socket and again Lockagh quickly remedied them with powerful holy magic. 

            Elphinia’s interest grew as their bought moved down from the steps, Saurfang driving them toward the center of the rampart, yet for all his strikes, stuns, and vicious slashes, the mercenaries managed to hold their own, avoiding major injury, and with the held of the holy paladin Lockagh, and the priestess Kayra, worked the undead orc to a frenzy.  The sounds of their weapons clashing rang above the screams and cries, and battle shouts all about them as both sides worked at a feverish pitch.  Blocking two attacks from Saurfang axe brought Shyss to his knees, while both Kontar and Jim cut deep into the Undead orcs, letting his ice cold blood spill out over ice blue paved stone.  Leaking blood, Saurfang did all he could to continue pressing forward, swinging his axe sideways at Jim’s head, but before the deadly strike could reach, Shyss leapt from his feet and came in hard and fast at the orc’s head, bashing it soundly and them punching his chest with the butt of the holy shield. 

            “Gah,” Saurfang spat, as he stumbled backward.  “Cu… curse you mortals.”  A spout of blood followed his words as he took another staggered step.  On dying legs he stumbled away from Shyss’s relentless pursuit.  Three strokes of Aegis were deflected, the fourth smashed against the orc’s shoulder, driving him to one knee.  Weary, with the curse of undeath now weighing heavy on his bones, Saurfang looked up into the Paladin’s eyes, and for a moment, was at peace with his fate.  His cursed time in the Lich Kings service was finally at an end.  Finally he would sleep, and go be with His ancestors, and his mother, he would be free. 

            A piercing screech woke him from his hazy dream, and like a shooting star, a ball of blazing blue fire crossed the sky.  Elphinia fixed her gaze to it, the meteor crashing in a blaze of glory.  Tendrils of sapphire flame stretched out, up into the air before falling to the ground, snaking in the wake of their master.  Amidst the burning torrents, he stood tall, and lean.  Black and blue armor encased his body, his long brown hair trailing behind him, gently tossing in the winds.  Yet nothing struck Elphinia as sharp and haunting as his steel gaze, blue and green all at once.  His eyes moved over the group, but stopped to settle on the blood elf hunter whose likeness was akin to his own, in the shape of their faces, and the unique metallic gaze they both shared.  A grin spread across his lips.  “Elphinia.”

* * * * * * *

The sound of her own name pulled Elphinia, forcefully from her slumber.  Her bare limbs shown pale under the dim, yet growing light, that filtered through her open window. She got up and pulled the pane shut with a loud snap and click of the lock, but cold that had settled in her spine would not disperse with the absence of the morning breeze. Silversong.  Three months had come and gone since she first heard her half brother, Eldri’ ar speak the family name, that bound her to him, and to all those of the treacherous servants of Sargaras, in eternal damnation.  She slammed her fist against her thigh and cursed.  “Damn you Eldri’ ar, damn you to the void.  I had no desire to know of my family, so why is it that you appeared.  Why did you tell me these things only to die on Frostmourne’s edge?"—And for a brief moment, Elphinia saw the fleeting smile on her brother’s lips as he stood before her, taking the brunt of a jabbing strike meant for her.  The brother she would only be allowed to remember as an adversary, gave away what life he had left, for her.  The sentiment made her skin crawl with irritation and her eyes, but for a moment, spark with tears.  For a long while she stood there, in silence, letting the memory of Eldri’ ar wash over her, and sink deep into her bones, before getting dressed.

            As she left her room, she caught a glimpse, of Widgett racing down the hall.  She wore nothing but undergarments, and shackles binding her hands to one-another.  Following close behind the goblin was Wiggles, who stood just a hair above Widgett.  He too was only in undergarments, and carrying a rubber dildo that looked too large for even a tauren, and a paddle, worn from use.  The two Halfling creatures ran giggling down the hall and into the goblin’s bedroom before the door swung shut with a resounding crash.  The moans and squeals that followed caused a harsh shudder to run down Elphinia’s spine.  Not wanting to linger on the image she made her way to the guilds main hall.  Since returning from Northrend, the heroes of the Citadel had poured much of its finances into restoring the Guildhall.  The walls that were once missing whole sections, as well as the exposed leaking pipes, had been put back in order cleaned, and decorated with trophies from their time in the north.  The wooden tiles were replaced and waxed, and the large bear hide furniture refurbished.  Surrounded by the guild’s newfound beauty, Dr. Xanxus Kepper, sat across from Adarind Treesong, locked in a grueling game of chess.  The two opponents seemed too transfixed on one-another to take any real notice of Elphinia as she entered the room, so she walked past the set of chairs over to the Beggar’s Board, the guilds listing of all jobs in the area requesting the aid of a mercenary guild.  Gazing up at the board, she let her eyes wander from job to job, without deeming particular interest to any one listing.  Against her leg she felt the cold wet press of a Skoll’s nose on her bare skin, and without too much though she ran her fingers through dogs sapphire fur, feeling the tingling fuzz of the powerful electricity that ran through Skoll’s body.  Happily he ran his head against her hand and then licked her fingers with his rough tongue.  Bending down Elphinia took the large wolf into her arms and stroked his fur and let him run his long tongue up and down, from her cheek to her forehead, while she giggled.  “Good morning to you too.” 

            “DAMN IT!”

            Adarind’s violent outburst interrupted Elphinia and Skoll’s morning reunion. 

            “Calm down and play another game,” Kepper invited, though the grin on his face was far from friendly.  “We can make it best of seven.” 

            The night elf looked at him with a stern, discerning glare before shaking her head.  “I’ve had enough of parlor games.  All this sitting is making me sore.  In an instant her eyes fixed on Elphinia, to whom she leapt, hoping over a sofa and landing square beside the blood elf, “Up and at em, girlie.  It’s a new day and there’s work to be done.”

            I wonder, Elphinia thought to herself.  She had only looked to the Beggar’s board for a moment’s reprisal from her dreams, with no real intention on taking a job, but the chance to talk to Adarind was too tempting.  Since their adventures in Ice Crown she had proved herself wise beyond Elphinia’s reckoning.  If there were anyone who can help me to understand myself it would be Adarind.

            With a smile Elphinia accepted Adarind’s offer, allowing the druid to pick the assignment while she went to her room to change, replacing her shorts and light tunic for black leather leggings, tall black boots made of dragon hide, lined with crystalline blue scales rimmed around the top and over the toe, topped with black tunic made of the same black scales and pauldrons o the blue, with a long hooded cloak to top it all off. 

            She found Adarind, with Skoll, waiting in the long entrance hall.  The druid too was dressed for the hardships of battle, similarly in leather gear, woven magically with leaves of the world tree Nordrasssil.

            “Still dressing like a little princess of the night, are we,” Adarind critiqued with a snicker.  Elphinia retorted saying, “Still dressing like a tree worshiper are we?”  To which Adarind giggled and replied.  “Well sweetie its what we Night Elves do,” and the two shared a laugh. 

            The summer sun shined above the Stormwind docks, causing the heat to swell and whip at the dock laborers like a whip, and draw out their tedious days, and shortening their poorly restful, hard-earned nights.  Under the glaring sun, Elphinia felt beads of sweat run down her forehead, though the dark veil of her hood kept her discomfort from onlookers, as she followed Adarind across the stone port.  The open air and smell of sea salt cleared her mind of all but the task at hand, her eyes peering dangerously at a tall sun tanned man with short blonde hair.  His white sleeveless shirt allowed Elphinia to see the hardened muscles on his arms, and the scars that lined them.  There was no doubt he’d seen his share of battles, this one might be tricky.

            He along with eight other men stood beneath one of the many crumbling structures across Stormwind city, left over devastation from the black dragon’s pass over the bastion of human civilization.  They appeared to be taking a break from their work, five eating packed lunches while the other two, along with the scarred man stood pointing up at the falling fortification, discussing the best way to fix the structure. 

            “Ahoy, one of the men called, waving a long tanned arm toward Adarind and Elphinia.  “Two cute lasses like you wouldn’t happen to be out looking for some sailors would ya?” Two more of the men looked up, and began to share in the goading.  The man with the scars however, and the dark skinned man to his right, seemed far from amused.  With every step closer to the group of men, Elphinia, could more clearly see the scarred man’s eyes narrow and his hand clench tighter on the hammer in his hand. 

            Likewise Elphinia’s fingers tickled against the feather of an arrow in her side quiver.  “Hey easy there girlie, we need to bring him back alive,” Adarind cautioned, already reading Elphinia’s mind. 

            “I’ll aim for his legs.”

            “Yes and I’d trust you Hun except you have this nasty habit of putting arrows through the bounty’s skull.” 

            “That was one time,” Elphinia argued back.

            “Three,” and with that reminder Elphinia fell silent, taking her hand away from the quiver. 

            And then he ran.

            As if the demon lord Sargaras were on his heels, the man with the scarred arms darted down the port his arms and legs pumping like a finely oiled machine.  With acrobatic precision he planted his arm on a wide plank, carried by two men, and tossed his body over it.  In a wild sprint he put near on a mile and a half between himself and the crumbled spire, with impressive speed for a human, though, with elven pursuers it was not enough. 

            Elphinia and Adarind charged after him, racing on light feet, as if carried by the wind itself.  Adarind’s long stride kept her several paces ahead of Elphinia, who was already attacking one of her magical, trapping orbs, to the steel carved head of an arrow.  As soon as the missile was prepared she let it fly, fast and accurate, a step ahead of her target so that the moment he set his foot down, a debilitating cold ran up his leg.  The pain of frostbite, and the lack of feeling in his lower legs caused him to tumble forward, face first into the dirt.  Looking up he saw he’d only made it as far as the cliffs along the edge of the port.  He had under shot his goal, the forest, where the trees would provide him cover from the hunter’s flurry of arrows, but not by more than a few yard.  He cursed his misfortune then forced himself back onto his feet.  Muttering a quick spell, the icy chill in his legs dispersed and with his movement returned he against started toward the forest.  But the mercenaries were already gaining ground. 

* * * * * * *

The combination of the traps delay, and the elves inhuman quickness proved too much, and even a half competent Priest such as Dugan knew he would be overrun in minutes, and so, rather than let the pair take him from behind, he turned to face both elves as they came at him.  Speaking in a whisper he rushed an incantation that set his body ablaze with black energy, coursing through him, and making him appear more demon ghost than human.  In shadow form, he started a second incantation his eyes trained on night elf, and pressed his palms out at her spoke aloud, “Shadow word: PAIN!”

* * * * * * * *

 The moment the words loosed from his lips terrible agony rushed over Adarind, like a fist slowly clutching at her heart.  She dropped to her knees and let her scream ring out into the open skies.  Pain would not stop her however, as she quickly wove magic, dispersing the spell and climbed to her feet. Ahead of her she saw Elphinia, still charging shadow priest, her bow drawn and releasing a steady stream of arrow fire. 

            “Alive,” Adarind reminded and was answered with a quick reply. 

            “I know!”

            Back on her feet Adarind began to give chase, following Elphinia’s lead, taking ground.  The Shadow Priest did not sit idly however, for with every step a new incantation was running through his teeth.  A black mist raced toward Elphinia like a devouring plague, but before the spell could touch her, Adarind had already cast a spell to counter act it and likewise when the he attempted another blast of searing pain.  Adarind dispelled both and then started to work trickery of her own.  Upon her command, roots climbed up from the earth, locking themselves around the Priest’s ankles. 

* * * * * * *

As soon as he felt the roots climbing around his legs, Dugan began to recite the incantation to dispel wildly magic, but with the hunter drawing ever closer and her arrows flying for his soft tender flesh, the Priest thought better.  Quickly he adjusted his casting, and moments before Elphinia’s arrows could tear through his flesh, a barrier of light erupted around him, causing the bolts to stop in mid-air and fall harmlessly to the ground.  Assured of himself the priest quickly cast another spell, a tunnel of black energy, which struck Elphinia in the midst of her charge and dropped her, hard to the ground.  Screaming with agony she twisted left and right.  “Make it stop, make it stop.”  Cold beads of sweat ran down her face and her breath grew short.  Searing pain raced through her mind, numbing her extremities.  She heard nothing, but a piercing screech like nails against ice, and she felt nothing but a massive throbbing, as if someone was beating on her skull with a rock. 

      In the midst of her agony she was again at the peak of Ice Crown Citadel, all around her, her allies fell one by one to the might of the Lord of Death, Arthas.  Beside her Adarind lay slain, and wiggles, both died to protect her.  Rage filled her bones, and gave her strength.  With the power of hate, Elphinia pushed herself up from the cold ice covered floor, the blood running slow from her many wounds, in particular her shoulder where Arthas has driven Frostmourne, and crying out in vengeful fury beckoned the Lich King.  “Arthas, DIE!”  And with those words she drew an arrow after arrow from her quiver, and let them fire in rapid succession.  The twang of her bow sang out like justice driving deep into the Lich Kings armor, piercing his damned flesh.  Yet it did not stop him. 

      With one cold merciless strike Arthas struck Frostmourne high into the air and brought it down hard and fast, ripping through Jim’s chest plate and flesh, in one deep single blow. 

      Still firing her arrow’s Elphinia watched helplessly as Jim, her last comrade, fell dead.  “FUCK YOU! Fuck you, you cursed abomination.” 

      Her arrows raced from her bow and sunk deep into the Lich King’s flesh.  His stride was unhindered; he walked with assurance, with a swipe of his sword sent a wave of frozen energy racing across the spire.  Elphinia was blown from her feet, and on to her butt, where she sat dazed.  As her gaze drifted up, she saw death incarnate looming over her.  Jim, Wiggles, Adarind, Shyss, Armagaren, Lock, Maristhine, their names brought tears to her eyes, and she weep for each of them, and then, as she saw across the spire, the orc whose death had first sent her down a warpath, her heart stopped.  “Kon-tar,” she spoke allowed and in that moment, lost all will to resist. 

      “Good, you have relinquished all yearning for this world.  Now, you are ready to serve me, as the greatest army this world has ever seen.  Night has fall on Azeroth, and a new dawn shall rise, a red dawn, a dawn of undeath.” 

      Licking a cut on her lip, Elphinia stared wide-eyed into the face of frozen evil.  Arthas drew his blade back, for a clean piercing strike, but its sting did not touch Elphinia breast, as was its aim, but rather tore through Eldri’ ar’s stomach.  Gasping the Death Knight turned back; smiling at his half sister, and in broken speech gave her his final words.  “L-l-live… little sister.”  And with those words Eldri’ ar summoned all of his strength and drove the Lich back to his throne, and in the process, shattered the icy tomb that bound Tirion Fordring. 

      Live. Her brother’s words rang clearly in her mind, blocking out the vicious assault from the searing mental attack.  Pressing her palm into the dirt, she pushed her body up.  The mental pain came in waves; she braced herself during each wave and in the span between them stood, slouched, on the verge of vomiting.  It took all of her strength to shift her gaze from the earth, up to Dugan, but once her eyes were set, so was her mind.  Beside her she could hear see Adarind furiously casting healing magic, and Elphinia knew that it was all the druid could do, to keep her alive. 

      Elphinia lifted her bow, drew an arrow from her quiver, and just as Adarind’s voice peeled through the layers of vicious mental damage, “NO!” Elphinia fired.

My First Post

WOOOOT omg I finally made my blog.  Hello I'm Sarah and this will be a blog for any of my current stories.  Primarily I plan on getting back into romance writing and erotica but I guess we'll just see how that goes.  I plan on having something up to read by the end of the week sooooo enjoy :)