Back to the beginning, Agness thought, and so she knelt next to Anetta in the hills of Northshire, eyes closed, hands turned palms-up.

And nothing. Still.

"It should be there," Agness said, head falling forward slightly. She sighed and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. "It's always been there, even if--"

"Even if you were called to the other side of it?" Anetta put a gentle hand on Agness's shoulder. "Try again. Find your center, and draw strength through it."

Agness nodded and closed her eyes again, face tilting up toward the sun, palms up, hands open as if to reach for the Light. It was there, just out of reach, the smoky trails of shadow just the other side of the coin, and deep inside her core, her center, the innermost depths of her being, she could feel it--the spell that would channel her truest self...

There was an acrid smell of--of brimstone?--and a soft chuckle. "Couldn't resist, could you?"

Agness opened one eye, wincing already, and Anetta made a garbled choking noise. "Agness," she hissed, "there's a--"

"I know," Agness said, covering her face in one hand and waving the succubus away with the other. "I know. I know. I know."

Anetta sighed, and after a while, Agness looked up at her, wincing as she did. Anetta did not look amused.

"You've got more problems than I can help you with out here," Anetta said. "I think you're going to need to ask for help at the Cathedral."

Teuthida: Unchanged, IC and OOC.

Agness: IC, still struggling with what to say about her shadow powers, and still avoiding thinking about the fact that she isn't as strong in the holy arts as she used to be. OOC, 76 and momentarily on hold as the Boomstick RP picks up.

Nancie: IC, still in flux as I work on the Wrathgate story. OOC, dinged 80, has an epic flappy, maxed out her mining and jewelcrafting, working on her Argent Dawn/Crusade rep (well over halfway through revered with both), and is collecting RP gear like crazy. She's got a set of "Wrynnforge" (it's Lightforge recolored in blue and gold), and I've got an eye out for a set of Moutaineer's Garb (you have to assemble it in pieces, mostly from AH drops), as well as giving a look around for the kind of armor she wears in her nightmares. Working on it! I really like the idea of being able to have visuals for the Nancie biography. (Yes, I'm working on that. No, I'm not on schedule. No, I don't care.)

Ovistine: IC and OOC: SHE'S BACK! \o/ The main of my heart has returned (and made me wish I'd registered twirlybraids.com instead, or in addition). IC, Ovistine has gotten her arse out of the library and taken on a role in the search for her good friend Homrend, recently killed by a mysterious group of Dark Irons and unable to resurrect because his spirit's been trapped by Hakkar (who always did bear a grudge). She knows there's a bargain that's going to have to be made to save him, and she knows what she's going to have to give up, but it's not going to stop her.

OOC, Ovistine is out of her rut, having pushed past 73 as well as getting one of those nice Cold Weather Flying Tomes. She's now 75 and I'm able to be very choosy with her quests, avoiding awful things with pitiful drop rates in favor of quests that are of more interest, both to me and to her.

I had actually been pondering the things brought up by this post on WTT:RP: what quests would Ovi do for real, and which am I doing because she's 75 and Disc/Holy and boy howdy I do not want to have to kill 93 bears for their asses, I'd rather just take a necklace to the dudes on the hill?

Ovistine is actually the first character in a while who's had an opinion about quests, and I think that's got a lot to do with how she got where she is. The short version: because Teu was my raiding main, she got pushed to 80 first, and that left Ovi constantly having to explain her absences. Eventually, I decided she'd taken up a research position at the Cathedral of Light and has been working on the Scourge problem as well as looking into these Ebon Blade death knights Varian Wrynn seems so determined to support. That left me with a much more thoughtful, much more curious dwarf than I'd started with -- so thoughtful and curious that she's beginning to think more seriously about archaeology and where the dwarves came from. The Explorers' League holds a lot more appeal for her now than it ever used to, and she's been distracted from her main goal (find Homrend. find him now) a couple of times by information about the Titans and an old battered journal of Brann Bronzebeard's that she found in Thor Modan. Where Nancie spent the last couple of levels in Icecrown fighting Scourge, Ovistine is likely to level up in Storm Peaks looking for evidence of the Titans.

(And at some point I really need to start writing and posting Wrathgate, and begging my RP crew's forgiveness for what will probably be an abrupt "WTF" moment for Ovistine; the main reason I'm not doing it right now is because the Search for Homrend/Dark Iron Chaos storyline is moving so fast that I'd really rather not put something else into the mix. Also I'm procrastinating. Again. >_>)

Agness struggled out of bed and wandered downstairs to the living room. She pulled a blanket out of the cedar chest that served as their coffee table and settled in on the couch, finally coughing every bit as much as her lungs demanded.

Upstairs, there was a light snore followed by a heavier, deeper snore, and Agness sighed with relief. At least Vaelen could sleep in this way.

The fireplace was cold, although there were a few logs piled up in it. Agness glanced around the room, looked up at the ceiling, and finally sighed. "Bizpit?"

With a puff of smoke and a stench of sulphur that Agness, thankfully, could barely smell, the imp poofed into the human dimension. He danced along the back of the couch as Agness grimaced and slid over to one side, avoiding the imp's flailing arms and legs, and finally, just as Agness was sure he was going to run upstairs--oh, Light, I don't want to have to go catch him while I'm feeling this way--he plopped down on the end of the couch and said, "Yeeeeeessss?"

This was not a good idea. Agness looked hopefully over at the fire and then back at Bizpit. "Could you start a fire for me?" she croaked.

"What's the matter with your voice? Murloc in your throat?" Bizpit crossed his legs and looked at his fingernails.

"I'm sick," Agness said. "That's why I haven't been going out the last day or two."

"And I thought it was because you just loved married life and didn't want to go anywhere. Oh, Vaelen, you're so handsome! I love your ridiculous mustache! And the way you--" Bizpit's voice quit dripping imitation honey and turned into the creaky, disgusting whine it usually was as he finished. "Smite demons."

"How many times have I told you? It's nothing personal--he's a paladin, for crying out loud--"

"My ears hurt," Bizpit sulked.

"Please go start a fire? I won't let him smite you anymore."

Bizpit's ears flapped at Agness, but he didn't say anything.

"Bizpit!" Agness snapped. She pointed at the fireplace. "Fire!"

"Fine," Bizpit said. He belched out a bit of smoke and then tossed a casual little fireball into the fireplace. To Agness's relief, the logs caught fire immediately, and the room felt much warmer. Also smokier. Agness coughed again, this time not due to her illness, and waved a hand in front of her face. "Bizpit, the flue--"

"Yes, I've noticed you're sick. You want a hankie or something?"

"No, the flue--the fireplace, Bizpit, the flue, can you go open it?"

"Hey, you don't wanna breathe smoke, that's your human failing. Me, I'm just fine like this--"

"You want to go back to live with Daisy?"

Bizpit tossed her a scornful little grimace and scurried off the couch, reaching into the fireplace to open up the flue. The smoke began to dissipate, and Agness sighed with relief.

"Don't know why you don't just heal yourself, anyway," Bizpit muttered, coming back over to the couch and flopping down in a tangle of limbs--some of which were Agness's. She winced and pulled her foot out from under him, and he grabbed part of her blanket and started gnawing on the hem.

"Bizpit..."

"Mmmmm, felwool," Bizpit said dreamily. He got in a few more chews before Agness swung a pillow at him. "Fine, fine! I'll quit! But sheesh, you're a shadow priest, honey, emphasis on priest. Why don't you just poof yourself all better? Unless you like being a sick little girl--"

"Shut up," Agness muttered, and after a moment, lower, "and anyway, I tried that already."

"Ooooooh." Bizpit leaned forward with a gleam in his eyes and a grin spread across his vile little face. "Whassa matter? Holy spells no worky?"

"Shut up." Agness coughed again, and then again, and this time the coughing didn't stop for a minute or two--by which time the snoring from upstairs had stopped, and there were soft creaks from the floorboards. "Oh, balls--you! Get out of here--"

"No!" Bizpit crossed his arms in front of his chest and sat down hard on Agness's foot. "Not going, can't make me, not going, can't make me--"

"Raga razzax," Agness whispered, snapping her fingers, and Bizpit faded away. She groaned and put her head in her hands.

"Agness?" The end of the couch sank down again, but this time instead of a small, ugly demon, it was a tall, redheaded paladin (whose mustache was not even a little bit ridiculous, Agness thought grouchily) in a plaid nightshirt and slippers, and when he rubbed at Agness's ankles, she sighed and stretched her feet out across his lap. He drew the felwool blanket down over her legs so her feet wouldn't get cold, and kept rubbing. "Are you all right?"

"I have a cold," Agness said; it came out more like I hab a code, but fortunately Vaelen understood.

"Poor sweetie. Do you want me to make you some tea?"

"Oh, Vaelen, you just got up--"

"Yes, but I'm feeling fine! I'm too Light-infused to get sick." Vaelen smiled at her and winked as he tickled the bottom of her foot. "I could try a cleanse spell--"

"I already tried that," Agness muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "Didn't take."

"Oh--well, I suppose you have more experience with healing spells than I do. You are a priest, after all," Vaelen said. "I should have known learning to smite harder would weaken my healing skills--maybe I should go back to the Cathedral and take some more healing lessons."

"But you love smiting!" Agness sat forward and reached out to pet Vaelen's shoulder. "I'll be over this in no time. Really, it's no trouble."

The next outburst of hacking coughs made Agness collapse against the couch's arm in a heap, and Vaelen got up. "I'll make you some soup," he said. "Don't argue, I, ah--how do I boil water again?"

"Just go down to the Pig and Whistle," Agness said, wincing at the idea of Vaelen in the kitchen. "Ask Kabonka for some crocolisk gumbo--you can heat it up when you get back home, if it gets cold."

"I won't let it." Vaelen drew himself to his full height and put his hands on his hips. "I'll be back in just a few minutes."

"Pants?" Agness raised her eyebrows. "You'll wear pants, right?"

"...and I'll wear pants."

* * *

With a bowl of Kendor Kabonka's finest gumbo in hand, Agness was actually feeling much better; the spices were enough to clear her head out, and Vaelen had in fact managed to keep it warm on the ride home. He'd brought home a new knitting book for her, too, one all about knitting warm socks for the man in one's life. Agness had beamed up at Vaelen and promised him new socks before they went back to Northrend; he'd cheered at her and then left her alone to eat her soup while he tidied up around the house. There were, she had to admit, a few handkerchiefs strewn about the floor here and there.

"GUMBO!"

Agness shrieked and jerked her bowl back from Bizpit. "Did I say you could come back? Did I--get out of here, get out out out--"

"Give me some gumbo and I'll go."

"Fine!" Agness shoved her bowl at him. He buried himself face-first in the gumbo, making loud smacking noises, and Agness tried not to gag. "Enough. Enough, now go away--"

"Make me," Bizpit said, sticking his tongue out at her.

"Oohhh--why, you--raga razzax," Agness said, snapping her fingers. Bizpit had just enough time to make an even uglier face at her before vanishing.

"What was that?" Vaelen called from the kitchen.

"Nothing," Agness croaked. "I'm fine, honey."

"Oh, good! Do you want some more gumbo?"

Agness looked down at what was left of her gumbo and shuddered as she set it down on the coffee table. "No, thanks, sweetie. I think I've had enough for today."

"'Pet-sitting', she said. 'I'll only be gone for a week', she said. 'I'll bring you souvenir yarn', she said." Agness frowned down at Bizpit, who was chewing on the hem of her robe again. "No amount of yarn is worth this."

Bizpit looked up from the hem of Agness's robe. "Hey, I didn't ask to be saddled with you, either, priesty-poo." He snorted; the hem of Agness's robe puffed with smoke. Agness tugged it out of Bizpit's grip. "Fine. No robes? Guess I'll just have to entertain myself with something else. How about... LALALALAooooooo... OOOOOOOOO... NEEBEENEEBEENEEBEE RATATATAooooo..."

"Oh, dear Light, take the damn robe, just stop wailing," Agness said, shaking her robe at Bizpit. "What the hell do you call that?"

"I'll have you know that was a traditional imp folk song called Make The Dumb Human Give You What You Want." Bizpit went back to gnawing on the robe's hem, and Agness rubbed at her ears.

When the bell tolled for three o'clock, Agness let out a sigh of relief. "All right, you. Time to get back in the box."

"Shows what you know. It's not a box, it's a--" But Agness was already reading from Daisy's scroll, the one with the unsummoning spell, and Bizpit was mercifully fading away.

* * *

Daisy opened the door and gave Agness a hug. "It's so good to see you!" she said, beaming. "Thanks for taking care of Bizpit for me."

"You're welcome! How was your trip?"

"Fantastic. I picked up some amazing felwool--" Daisy paused; Agness was snickering. "What?"

"Oh, no, nothing, just... 'felwool' sounds like something you'd get off demon sheep. Oooo! Scary demon sheep!"

"Right," Daisy said, grinning weakly. "Who's ever heard of demon sheep, you know? It's just... wool from sheep whose ancestors were the first to be bred in Felwood. So anyway, I hope Bizpit wasn't too much trouble. And that scroll worked out for you, right?"

Agness winced. "Well, about that scroll--the fourth time I used it to unsummon him, he sort of caught it on fire."

"Oh, hells--wait, so where is he? He's not--gone, is he?" Daisy looked around, dropping to her knees to look under the couch. "Bizpit! Get out here--"

"No no no, it's okay," Agness said quickly. "I just--I was hoping the scroll itself wasn't very important. I have some vellum back at home, and plenty of ink, so I'd be happy to replace the materials, but the scroll's gone."

"But Bizpit--" Daisy stood up, still looking worried. "If you couldn't unsummon him, how...?"

"We sort of... came to an understanding," Agness said. She looked down at the floor and cleared her throat. "I might possibly have... learned the actual unsummoning spell."

Daisy's eyes went wide, and she grinned at Agness. "Really. That's kind of a stretch for you, isn't it?"

"Right. A--a stretch," Agness said, glancing away for a moment. "I mean, the incantation wasn't terribly difficult..."

"Oh, no, it's a very easy one."

"And I remembered it from the previous times I'd read it, so..."

"You just used it, and poof?"

"Basically."

"But then he's been unsummoned for the last week and a half? Oh, Light, he must be furious--"

"Well, that's the other part of it," Agness said. She bit her lower lip and winced a little as she looked at Daisy. "I, ah--I hate to admit it, but I sort of... didn't... so much need the scroll to resummon him, either."

"Eh?"

Agness sighed. "Maybe it'd be easier if I just showed you." She whispered a few words--which were a little too familiar by now--and spun up a matrix of shadow power, generated from her own connection to shadows instead of from a scroll. The runes that surrounded her on the floor weren't as startling this time as they had been the first time she'd done it, and as Daisy watched, Bizpit appeared amidst the sounds of demonic cackling. He glanced at Agness, then Daisy, and immediately grabbed the hem of Daisy's robe, chewing on it with gusto.

"You grungy little--quit that," Daisy said, nudging Bizpit with her toe. "I've been gone two weeks and all you can do is chew my robes?"

"Agness let me chew her robes every day," Bizpit said, and Agness was pretty sure he was smirking. Daisy looked up at Agness, horrified.

"You didn't."

"It was that or listen to him sing."

"But your robes--how many did he go through?"

"Oh, just the one. I just made sure to wear it every time I came over."

"Well, thank the Light, but I'll be happy to fix it for you. Or replace it. Whatever you'd like."

Agness waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. But about this felwool--"

"No, wait, one thing first. Show me the unsummoning trick." Daisy grinned. "You must have loved being able to do that."

"It was kind of nice," Agness admitted. "I wish I could do it with all imps."

"Ha ha," Bizpit muttered. He made a grab for the hem of Agness's robe, but she quickly waved a hand at him and muttered a few words, and he was gone.

"That's fantastic! You really should be proud," Daisy said, collapsing onto the couch. "I'm sure the knitting circle would be thrilled for you."

"Well, I'm glad someone would be." Agness made a face. "Let's just say the husband wouldn't approve."

"Ooh, what's he? Another priest?"

"Worse. A paladin. He'd take one look at Bizpit, yell, 'DEMON! SMITE IT!' and throw an exorcism spell."

"Paladins are like that," Daisy said, sighing. "Seriously, though, what you did shows a lot of talent. You should really think about going to see Drusilla in Northshire--you and Vaelen live in Northshire, right?"

"Near the Abbey," Agness confirmed, sinking down on the couch next to Daisy. "But I don't think Vaelen would really approve of my looking up a warlock trainer..."

"Well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?" Daisy poked Agness in the side. "So tell him you're taking art lessons or something. He'll never know the difference."

Agness shook her head. "Well... it is kind of tempting... and he probably wouldn't notice, as long as I didn't summon felguards in the house or anything..."

"There you go! Really, there's all sorts of ways you can use warlock training to augment your shadow skills. Things that don't require fussing around with demons at all. Oh, but speaking of demons, I did mean it about the robe. Send me your old one, and I'll patch it right up."

"If you're sure," Agness said. "I don't want to be trouble--it's not like I couldn't fix it myself if I sat down with some fabric and thread, I've just been so bored by sewing lately..."

"Well, no worries, I'll take care of it. And thanks again for pet-sitting for me!"

"Any time," Agness said, then grimaced. "Did I really just say that?"

Daisy was laughing too hard to answer.

A Dwarf Named Clunk

The thing about Ovistine's grandmum is that she means well. Ovistine keeps that in mind while twisting a napkin in her hands under the table.

"...an' I thought, well! Wha' this town really needs is a brewery!"

"It didn't have one before?" Ovistine asks, puzzled.

"Oh, it had eight! Bu' none o' them made ginger-pressed beer."

"Oh."

"Or--" and the dwarf Ovistine is, due to all lack of reason and a desire not to hurt her grandmum's feelings, out on a blind date with, leans forward, "chocolate stout."

Uther's beard, the man's insane. "That's... very nice," Ovistine says weakly.

"Aye, 'tis! Th' ladies love th' stuff. Cannae keep 'em off me when I'm givin' it out f'r free."

Ovistine shudders and tries to pretend it's a shiver, instead -- Kharanos is cold this time of year -- but that's a mistake. Clunk raises an eyebrow and leans forward even further. "Y'cold, lass?"

"Er, no! No!" Ovistine wishes briefly she'd studied the holy arts a little more at the Cathedral; she could 'warm herself up' by calling down a bolt of holy fire, and if it just happened to land on Clunk, and... no, no, horrible idea. Then he'd remember she's a priest and he'd call out for healing, and that's just asking for trouble. "So, um... chocolate stout and ginger-pressed beer. What else does your brewery make?"

Clunk strokes a hand over his beard -- Ovistine tries not to notice the wake of hopping fleas that are disturbed by the motion -- and gives her a sly look. "Well, tell ye wha', lassie. Seems as I could gi' ye a tour o' th' place. Right nae, if ye're done eatin'."

Ovistine looks at her barely-touched cold leg of mutton. She's seen too many sheep that really turned out to be trolls to be all that interested in such foods, but of course Clunk had ordered for her ("it'll keep meat on yer bones, lass! Or other places!") and after watching the fleas in Clunk's beard for a few seconds, she hadn't been very hungry anyway. "I, ah..."

Clunk puts a hand on her arm, and Ovistine represses the urge to smite him. "It's not a long ride frae here," he whispers. "Bet tha' ram o' yers could get us there in no time flat."

The buzzbox in Ovistine's small pouch starts chirping, and Ovistine jumps half a foot. She leans over and digs through her pack, grabbing up the buzzbox gratefully and holding it to her ear.

"What's that? Oh, my! No!" She glances at Clunk. "One of the buildings in Stratholme's caught fire again, and undead are just spewing out of it. I really have to go." She's already extricating herself from the table, digging further into her pouch for a few silvers, which she tosses onto the table before hurrying towards the door.

"Wait!"

Pack stashed at her waist again, Ovistine whistles for Wilhelm, who comes up with a rumbling bleat. Ovistine tips the stable master and hoists herself up on Wilhelm's back, patting him on the side of the neck. "Mutton, he orders!" she whispers. "Dinna fash, Wilhelm, I'd never eat you."

"Wait!" Clunk's hurrying out of the inn, nearly tumbling down the stairs in his haste to get to her. "When c'n I see y' again, lass?"

"Um... well..." Ovistine holds Wilhelm's reins hard as he rears up; he snorts at Clunk, and Clunk backs off a step. "Well, if the Horde ever invade Kharanos..." That's not quite right; even Clunk probably knows that a lass who's taken this long to reach Private in the army doesn't respond to every incidence of Horde attack. "That is, if you're ever stranded in Caer Darrow..." Agh! Don't give him ideas! "Tell you what: call me da and he'll tell you how to get in touch with me." And I'll warn Da to threaten his beard if he ever calls me again.

Clunk yells something as Ovistine takes off, but thankfully Ovistine's almost too far away to hear him. There might have been something about sending a cask of beef-fat lager to her da when he comes calling, but she hopes not.

Then again. If Geoffar Lighthammer gets a cask of beef-fat lager, he'll know full well what to do to Clunk without Ovistine having to tell him. (She can picture it so easily: "Ye mixed wha' wi' which?! Wha' are ye, a trogg or sommat?! Ge' out o' here, an' take yer demon-spawned brew wi' ye! No daughter o' mine's going t' date a dwarf wi' such bad taste in spirits! An' get some flea powder f'r yer beard, when ye go!")

The buzzbox chirps again. "Did someone say something about undead in Stratholme?" asks one voice, while another answers it with, "Aren't there always undead in Stratholme these days?"

"Sorry about that," Ovistine says into the buzzbox. "Needed an excuse in a hurry, and it was the first one I could lay hands on!"

"What's next," someone asks, "'oh, no, there are trolls in Zul'Gurub'?"

"Ooh, that's a good one," Ovistine says, grinning. "I'll keep that one in mind." She pauses. "By the way, if your grandmum ever tries to set you up on a date with a dwarf named Clunk, you might want to have some Thorium Grenades handy. If you catch her in the stun, you can get a pretty fair head start before she wakes up..."

The Shadoweave Knitting Circle

There were flyers posted just outside the Cathedral of Light; Agness would have passed right by them, but there was a bright purple ball of yarn in the center of the flyer. That got her attention.

SHADOWEAVE KNITTING CIRCLE!
MEETS EVERY THURSDAY NIGHT AT 7PM
THE SLAUGHTERED LAMB, MAGE DISTRICT, STORMWIND CITY
CONTACT MORRIAR FOR DETAILS

Agness pondered it for a minute, then shrugged. An odd location, but not a bad idea. Her last knitting group had dispersed due to scheduling issues, but she didn't have anything important planned for Thursday nights. Lyja and Trisia could definitely handle Dea Sisters and Bibblebonk Alchemy; all she had to do was arrange the time off.

What could go wrong?

* * *

"...Bizpit, if you don't hold that yarn properly, I'm going to stuff your ears in the oven and count to thirteen thousand. Now hold still."

Agness blinked into the darkness. That didn't exactly sound promising, but... the woman had mentioned yarn. She stepped inside and glanced around.

Several men and women were sitting at a back table, yarn spread out across the table's surface, patterns resting on the table. There were a few bottles of wine out, too, and a platter of appetizers in the center of the table, away from all the works in progress.

Someone caught sight of Agness and waved. "Hello! Are you here for the knitting circle?"

"Yes," Agness said, coming forward. "The Shadoweave Circle?"

There was a soft wave of laughter, and the man who'd spoken beckoned Agness over. "Take a seat. We're just getting started. My name's Morriar; this is Trynn; over there with the imp-cum-yarn-swift is Daesienne--"

"Call me Daisy," the warlock piped up, not taking her eyes off her imp, "and this is Bizpit. Bizpit! Turn around, the yarn's caught on your grubby little nose..."

"--and that's Kirch there in the back." Kirch nodded his head at Agness; from what she could tell, he was knitting a hat big enough to fit a Fel Reaver.

"I'm Agness," Agness said, taking the empty seat next to Morriar. "I co-own Dea Sisters and Bibblebonk Alchemy over on the other side of the district..."

"Oh, I've been there," Daisy said. "I buy my Elixirs of Shadow Power from Dea Sisters. Do you brew those yourself?"

"No--yes--maybe," Agness said, laughing. "It depends on how long ago we're talking. I used to brew my own elixirs, but I leave that to Lyja--the Bibblebonk in the name--nowadays."

"You know, I thought I'd noticed something different about those elixirs," Kirch said. "I thought the quality control standards were just failing. But if you have a gnome brewing them, that explains a lot."

"Oh, Kirch, I know plenty of excellent gnome brewers," Trynn said. "Not to mention perfectly good gnomish warlocks."

"They might be good with a Corruption spell, but their potions tend to taste like metal. I bet they use some kind of technology in the brewing process."

"I don't think so..." Agness frowned. She looked into her knitting bag, digging through it for the latest pair of socks she'd been knitting for Vaelen. "I'll have to double-check those. I guess I haven't been as focused on shadows lately."

"And why's that?" Kirch asked.

"Well, I'm trying to get better with the Light..."

"I'll just freshen up our wine," Morriar said, taking an empty bottle off the table and heading for the bar. Agness watched him go, but shrugged and went back to her socks.

"Don't mind him, he's got the manners of an imp," Daisy said, yanking at her yarn as Bizpit jumped up and down. "But then I guess you wouldn't know much about that..."

"I've seen plenty of imps in the field," Agness admitted. "They have this tendency to chew on the hems of my robes."

"That's a sign they like you," Trynn said, laughing softly. She reached forward and took a tiny sandwich off the appetizer platter. "Or that you're walking with shadows. Every time I shift into shadows, believe me, I can't keep the little things off me."

"It could be your--Bizpit! LET GO!--your charm," Daisy added. She sighed as the last of her yarn came free, and she was able to finish winding the ball. "But you--you do have an interest in Shadoweave, still, don't you? I mean, why else would you be here...?"

"Oh, of course," Agness said. She reached back into her knitting bag and pulled out a hank of beautiful laceweight yarn, passing it over to Daisy. "Here's something I keep meaning to cast on with; I was thinking I'd make a shawl with it. It's half Elwynn wool, half shadow silk."

Daisy made a cooing noise and rubbed the yarn from top to bottom. It was a beautiful dark purple that had several highlight shades ranging from light purple to blue to green. "Where did this come from?"

"The Darkmoon Faire. I picked up every hank they had."

"If you have any left over when you're finished with your shawl, I'll find something to trade for it." Daisy handed it back, but her fingertips lingered on the hank for as long as possible. "Anyway, I guess I ought to introduce you to my imp here. This is Bizpit."

Bizpit made a growling noise, crossed his arms over his chest, and turned around; there was a sudden, acrid stench of sulphur in the air. Daisy covered her face with her palm.

Morriar came back with another bottle of wine and cleared his throat. "Are you done winding your yarn, Daisy? Because the bartender keeps looking at Bizpit with this suspicious gleam in his eye..."

"Oh! Yes, I suppose I could put Bizpit away."

"Like I want to hang out with you humans and your stupid sheep stuff anyway," Bizpit said, but he was fading away with the last of it; Daisy had sent him back to... well, wherever imps went when warlocks de-summoned them. Agness breathed a sigh of relief.

"At any rate, welcome to the Shadoweave Knitting Circle," Trynn said. "It's always nice to have another member."

"Thanks," Agness said, smiling. "I appreciate the welcome."

Teuthida is less a morning squid than an all-the-time squid. She remains happy and cheerful and bright from the minute her eyes open to the time she falls asleep. Luckily, her companion Valyrie doesn't seem to mind too much.

Ovistine is definitely not a morning dwarf. She's not exactly a late-night dwarf, either (not by her standards), but she has to have a good strong coffee in the morning or she's really not awake.

Nancie is used to this early morning business by now, but she does have an alarm clock. (It's from the Ultrasafe corporation, and almost always goes off at the right time, plus or minus an hour. Geoffar keeps saying he'll get to it eventually...)

Lyja is not a morning person, but can do a reasonable facsimile if she has an alarm clock available. For really important events, she gets a buzzbox wake-up call.

Agness doesn't get out of bed before noon if she can possibly avoid it, and tends to sabotage Vaelen's attempts to get up early, too.

But! Imagine, if you will, four or five-year-old Teuthida and Valyrie in Shattrath City, growing up in the orphanage together. This may or may not have actually happened, lore depending, but it is for-sure something that could have happened. Also, I do really enjoy taking random city NPCs and adding them to my characters' backstories (Brandur Ironhammer in the Mystic Ward in Ironforge is Nancie's brother, for instance), so yes, Haronem is an NPC somewhere in the game. ^_^

Tiny Elekks, Tiny Draenei

The tiny elekks might not have been the most attractive toys in the orphanage, but since each child had gotten to decorate an elekk last week, they were the current favorites. Valyrie's elekk had big puffy cones all over it, which she said were spikes for charging into battle; Teuthida had painstakingly glued hundreds of sequins to hers and covered it -- and herself, accidentally -- with glitter. Two days later, Teuthida was still sparkly, and now that her elekk was dry, she was getting more glitter all over herself from hugging it so much.

Haronem walked over as Teuthida and Valyrie were playing with their elekks. Valyrie's elekk was tromping around the floor, stomping on imaginary orcs, with loud sound effects from Valyrie. Teuthida's elekk followed Valyrie's around, honking enthusiastically, too.

"Let me see," Haronem said, reaching out for Valyrie's elekk.

Vaylrie snatched it away from him. "No!" She glared at him as she cuddled her elekk to her chest, spikes squooshing against her arms. "You made your own."

"Mine's stupid. I wanna see yours."

"I could help you decorate yours!" Teuthida offered. "If you get it, I can go ask for glitter..."

"Gimme," Haronem shouted. He grabbed Valyrie's elekk away from her and laughed. "Mine!"

"Hey!" Valyrie stood up, little hands clenching into fists. "Give Ellie back!"

"His name's not Ellie. It's Eldorn, and -- oof!"

Valyrie had dropped her head and charged at Haronem, knocking into him with her horns. Ellie went flying, and Teuthida caught her. Before Valyrie could charge at Haronem again, though, one of the matrons came over and separated them. She took Haronem away after scolding Valyrie -- "how many times have we told you? We don't play with our horns that way" -- and Valyrie rubbed at her head after the matron was gone.

"Are you okay?" Teuthida asked. She reached up and poked at Valyrie's head. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"Aw, that old orc-breath couldn't hurt me. But where's Ellie?"

Teuthida handed Ellie over and impulsively planted a kiss on the top of Valyrie's head, like the matrons did when someone got a scrape or a bruise. "Blessings of the Naaru!"

Valyrie looked up at Teuthida, wide-eyed. "It feels better! How did you do that?"

Teuthida beamed. "The Naaru like me."

"The Naaru like everybody!"

"I'm an everybody, and they like me!"

Valyrie couldn't fault Teuthida's logic on that point. "Wanna send Ellie and Elvonka out to stomp some more orcs?"

Teuthida held up Elvonka and honked enthusiastically. Soon enough, the two tiny elekks were stomping around. The orcs were going to be in big trouble one of these days.

Visual aid! Here's one version of a toy elekk. Though it is covered neither in spikes nor glitter -- maybe this one was Haronem's. Pretend the sheep is an elekk who was recently polymorphed.

*

1. Is your character participating in the Tourney? (If no, are you doing it OOC?)
   Teuthida, Ovistine, and Nancie will all be participating in the tournament -- in Teu's case, largely OOC (she was happy to champion the Exodar but is a bit bored of the festivities; however, it's worth a lot of gold and I'm trying to get her some non-combat pets).  Ovistine has discovered that she'll be allowed to champion Stormwind and is both excited and very, very nervous, and is working up the nerve to step forward and do so.   Nancie pretty much thinks this whole event was made for her, and if they could just somehow combine it with Brewfest, she'd be thrilled. 
    
2. If asked "What is your home city", how would your character respond? If the answer is not their "Faction Capitol" -- why not?
   Teu would say "Shattrath", in spite of the time she spent on the Exodar and her ties to the people there. Shattrath is definitely Teu's home city, although she's also really fond of Telaar. She likes sunny, grassy areas best. 
    

   Nancie is an Ironforge dwarf through-and-through, but her "home" is wherever Geoffar is, especially if Nancie's been adventuring/fighting/at war. Right now, Geoffar is stationed at Wintergarde, helping with the mine, and Nancie is with the troops there. (Nancie and Ovistine have not done the Wrathgate quest line.) 
    

   Ovistine is a Stormwind dwarf; though her parents were both from Ironforge, Ovi was born and raised in Stormwind. Her parents are Ironforge dwarves, her culture and heritage is Dwarvish, she certainly speaks fluent Dwarvish, but Ovi is from Stormwind (and she gets pretty pissed off at people who equate "Stormwind" with "human"). The tournament presents a little bit of complication for her in the IC/OOC realm; I'm going to play it as if she's representing Stormwind from the get-go, and will definitely be getting her to Champion-level with Stormwind as fast as I can. 
    

3. There are rumors in Dalaran that a Dwarven Expedition has unearthed an Old God -- how will your character react?
   Teu is not clear on the details of what Old Gods are and what they represent, but is willing to help her friends fight anything. The threat from Yogg-Saron is enough to get her mind off the way everyone's cleared out of Shattrath, as if there's nothing left to rebuild there--at least for now. She is very confused about how being repeatedly bitten by cats is helping matters, though. (Also, I really think people sitting down and explaining Azeroth lore to Teu, in-game and IC, could be highly entertaining...) 
    
   Trying to suss out what Nancie thinks is difficult, due to the fact that the Lighthammers haven't been through the Wrathgate. (Argh.) Taking this from Nancie's perspective after Angrathar, she's got bigger fish to fry and is not interested in working with the Horde. 
    

   Ovistine (again, after Angrathar) is very determined to help however she can (and her mum is not happy about that). Her current skills and armor aren't up to par to go up against an Old God, and she knows it, so her job lately has been research; as much as she wants to help, she's also aware that sometimes help can come from archives and libraries, so that's where she's been spending most of her time lately. 
    

4. Does your character side more with Varian/Garrosh, or with Thrall/Jaina?
   Teu is not certain about this. It really goes against her instincts to ever trust an orc, any orc, even if they're not fel orcs. For the time being, she thinks they're probably all on the same side, and she's hesitantly okay with that, but she's also the kind of person who would blast first and ask questions later if any orc were threatening her, or looked like he was threatening anyone she knows. 
    

   Ovi sides with Thrall/Jaina (again, post-Wrathgate; again, this is not making her life with her mum easier). Nancie, on the other hand (again, post-Wrathgate) would follow Varian Wrynn into the flaming bowels of hell itself, and she'd sooner be hung from her toenails and roasted alive over a spit than work with any Hordie. ...actually, that more or less describes her pre-Wrathgate, too, but moreso afterwards. 
    

5. Meta Question: Are there things you do with your character that are OOC, but have IC rewards? (Reputation for a Faction Item, farming for a non-combat pet, or Dailies/Quests for a title like Loremaster, for example?) Do you have an IC explanation?
   Yes! Teu is farming symbols for a tiny sheep (if it's tradeable, the first one goes to Ovi; if not she'll keep it). Ewes are kinda new to Shattrath, but Teu was very intrigued by them and would love to have a pet with hooves. Agness, back in the day, was exalted with Ironforge so I could get her a ram. IC, that was because Nancie was her mentor when she was learning to be a priest, and she ended up in an exchange program with Ironforge; she thought the rams were adorable. There are probably other examples, but I'm not thinking of them at the moment... 
    

As for Ulduar, I'm sure that'll be a post all on its own in the long run...

I have two separate groups of accented characters -- the dwarves and the draenei. Starting in chronological order...

Ovistine is a Stormwind-born dwarf (and remind me to talk about that more at some point; I've recently had some Very Serious Thoughts about it). She spent her entire youth quashing her Dwarvish accent and only speaking Dwarvish in the home. As a result, when she first met the adventurers she keeps company with now, she sounded a lot like a human. You'd never have guessed she was a dwarf just by hearing her on the buzzbox.

Meeting the Boomstick Gang was the first time she'd spent that much time in company of dwarves and gnomes, and she loved it. It's really thanks to the Gang that Ovi's accent has started appearing -- nowhere near the kind of accent her mum has, but she doesn't sit on it anymore, and if she wants to call someone "barmy" or squeak over the "sweet wee bairn" someone's recently had, she doesn't immediately blush and say, "I mean, he doesn't seem right in the head" or "Oh, I meant, what an adorable baby!" the way she would have when she was in her 30s. And she's always had a strong Dwarvish accent when drunk. She also lapses into Dwarvish when she's really, really angry or upset about something. (Blame her mum for that one; family fights were always in Dwarvish!)

Nancie, of course, isn't a Stormwind dwarf, and neither is Geoffar. They're both originally from Ironforge, and because of Nancie's job, moved to Stormwind before Ovistine was born. Neither one of them is the least little bit ashamed of being a dwarf, and neither one of them has tried to stamp down their accent. Nancie is very proud of being a dwarf, and is the most likely to cause me to abuse the apostrophes until they cry.

I had always wanted to play a character for whom Common was emphatically not their first language (arguably, Nancie fits that bill, but Nancie is perfectly fluent in Common). I'd thought about doing that with an elf, but when Teu came around and the Eastern European accent came calling, I got all kinds of excited.

Teu does not have an accent per se; instead, she has unusual word choices and sentence structure. It's not quite Yoda-level, but it's heavily inspired by characters like Radek Zelenka of Stargate: Atlantis (from the Czech Republic; played by David Nykl, whose parents are Czech). Unlike Zelenka, Teu is bad-bad-bad-horrible-awful at languages (you do not want to hear her trying to speak Gnomish) and is not likely to get better. (Confusion about the difference between the phrase "Greetings and salutations!" and "Greetings and sandwich rations!" is, in fact, the reason this blog got its name.) She does speak perfectly normal Draenei, and when at home with Valyrie, speaks exclusively in Draenei.