Cheese Menu - Reclaimation Days!

 

Snow FitzSilver (11) - An Agent Recruit of the Gilneas Intelligence Service

Snow did not sit so much as suffer a controlled fall into his rented room in Gilneas City.  Two days ago he had been interviewed by Dominick Corwynn, the Minister of Intelligence of the Gilneas Intelligence Service (more commonly known as the GIS). Snow had been sworn in as an Agent Recruit - an interim rank with no duties or responsibilities. He had been asked to choose a non de guerre, and he had chosen a code name of Orphan, reflecting his origin.

He had been issued a GIS Employee Handbook, and been given a ring to wear; the ring acted as a secure communications channel to the GIS agents. Snow had put it on under his gauntlets.

He had found a room to rent; little more than a closet with a bed and wardrobe. A small basin to washing, a chamberpot under the bed. A footlocker for other belongings.

Cinnamon, the baby lynx kitten he had been adopted by in Mereldar; it had taken one look at Snow and said to itself "Here's a likely sucker meal-ticket!" The little tyrant had claimed Snow's bed, and more importantly, his heart.  She followed him everywhere he would go in Gilneas City; like Snow, she had made the city her new home.

Light knows there were enough rats and other vermin that if something happened to Snow she would never starve.

He had spent the evening reading the GIS Handbook at preparing for his new role; He needed a new uniform for use in clandestine operations; fortunately he had a suitable outfit that he had a laster leatherworker make for him, and that he had modified under the watchful eye of his Engineering mentor, now deceased in the fall of Dalaran, Phredaria Goldgears. 

      Agent Recruit Snow FitzSilver       

The suit now contained a plethora of suitable devices for covert activities:

    -- The gauntlets each had concealed Mecha-Blast Rockets.

    -- The back of the chestplate had a miniature parachute for high-altitude low opening (HALO) descents.

    -- The boots had rocket jump-assist boosters.

    -- The belt contained a Stealthman 54 prototype, allowing Snow to blend into the shadows without using Shadow magic

    -- A Shieldtronic projector, which would provide him with perhaps five seconds of an energy shield.

    -- He wore a belt of small pouches, which held his lockpicking tools, several Crimson Vails for first aid a small thermite grenade, suitable for pyrotechnical needs.

Snow understood that technically the thermite and the mecha-blast rockets were illegal for him to use in the performance of his new duties. but he'd blow up that bridge when it became time for him to cross it.

Snow FitzSilver (10) - Arranging For Gilnean White

The man that most people knew at Jonathan Chess crouched in the shadows inside the deserted Pyrewood Chapel. He had stepped into the Shadows out of paranoid reflex; throughout his career his paranoia had kept him alive. He had avoided returning to Pyrewood since the Horde had destroyed Theramore; Theramore had been the first home he had known since he had first been recruited by Elling Trias to serve Jaina Proudmoore at the newly-established city-state. She remembered Trias from before his retirement, when he had served the Alliance as spymaster. 

It might have been another decade before he returned to Pyrewood, except for the letter he had received from Snow FitzSilver. 

Snow had been another orphan from the assembled refugees trapped outside the Gilneas Wall. Jon's half brother, the paladin Griffonclaw, had brought him to the safety of the Stormwind Orphanage, ultimately adopting him as part of the family.

Snow had asked for a meeting, and given all Snow had given to the family, Jon did not for a minute hesitate to make the trip from Boralus. Of course, the fact that his wife Alia was a mage simplified the travel arrangements...

Most people would have been startled when Chess stepped out of the Shadows to greet his nephew, but Snow had grow used to that; Uncle Jon had been using that trick to increase Snow's situational awareness as he had grown up. 

An uncharacteristic smile crossed over Jon's face. He would never have allowed his children to join "the family business", but he was very proud of the man Snow had become.

"Uncle Jon... I have applied for a job as an intelligence operative with the Gilnean Crown," Snow informed. 

"I.. am not horribly surprised. I guess I'll have to find someone else to run 'errands' for me," said Chess. "I am very proud of you, kid. I do have one question, though?"

"What's that?"

"Do you need a delivery of Gilnean White?" asked Chess.

Snow FitzSilver (09) - A Letter from Ironforge

 Arrived in the mail, postmarked from Ironforge

Snow FitzSilver (08) - A Letter From Boralus

Snow FitzSilver returned from a long day in the fields of the farms in Light's Blooming, having spent much of the day killing spiders and scrapping renegade farm reapers. He had returned to the inn in Dunelle's Kindness, and when had approached the front desk to ask about the availability of a bath, the person at the desk had handed him a letter! He had been so excited that he had forgotten all about the bath, and rushed up the stairs to his room. "I'm home!" he called out, and smirked as a large lump in his bed twitched; he had been adopted by a lynx kitten, who found noting quite as agreeable as burrowing in the bedclothes for warmth.

Snow laid out a small mound of shredded crispy mutton, knowing that the little ingrate beast would soon be tempted from the bed by the scent of dinner. Using one of his omnipresent throwing knives, Snow neatly slit open the letter and sat down to read it.

Snow recognized the neat letters in well-ordered rows; Alia had taught all of her children, and later Snow, to write in a disciplined, legible fashion. 

 Dear Snow,

The "Twins", as you so helpfully coined them, are only a year or two older than you, but I dearly appreciate your compliment, nephew. The arcane may keep my appearance young, but my body is not as kind of a record keeper. I will give the remaining family your well wishes. 

Snow grinned; it was just like her to accept the compliment inn a dismissive fashion. Snow blamed Jon; he was so ready with glib comments that the women in the Chess family long ago became used to them, and did not take them seriously. Of course, the Titans help Jon if he ever stopped paying homage to their beauty, brains, and kind hearts.

I confess, I am relieved that you've written, as odd as our family relations are. After Dalaran, after losing so much and so many, coming so close to losing my boys, I find myself with a strange longing of any reminder that not all was lost.

Snow winced at her obvious pain; while she would be the first to admit that she mourned the loss of the libraries and their resources, Snow knew that her loss went much deeper; while Dalaran had been a marvelous, magical city, Alia has virtually grown up in it's academia, and whether or nor she liked her fellow students, instructors, librarians, and bureaucrats, they had been the underpinnings of her life, whether friends, acquaintances, rivals, or fools - they were the framework of her existence. To have them ripped apart from existence while Jon, Alia, and Baron did their best to save...dozens? Maybe hundreds? 

Snow could not imagine the pain. Andyet, the High Admiral of Kul Tiras had called, and they had responded. 

Jon's close friend, the gnome who had delighted in teaching Snow how to use a child construction kit to make mechanical race vehicles with enthusiasm and glee... Phredaria Godgears, a close family friend to the Chess clan, was gone, officially listed as missing; nobody thought that she had survived. She had always had time to help Snow learn; she tousled his hair and said that he wasn't the first street rat to become family. 

As much as I was and am wary of that place of employment, I thank the Light you and Cassia were at the club when it happened. Do not forget, we may not be blood, but you are just as much a part of this family as I am. You in particular are in too deep, and loved too much to allow that.

Snow had not wanted to weep, but he could help himself. Dane "Griffonclaw" FitzSilver had taken a six-year-old orphan and given him a family with strong ties, one that had given him direction, an education, training, and a firm platform from which to live his life. Uncle Jon had given him more than that; he had given him the means to make a difference.

Aunt Alia had made him family.

As for what we require, your well-being is first priority, but besides the obvious, this tired wife would ask that you keep an eye out for your "cousins" and "uncle". Baron's arm is still recovering, but I know he is eager to join the other researchers in this Mereldar to research the impressive crystal that is down there.

 Baron in Mereldar? Of course he would be coming; there was research to do, experiments to be made, and Baron Chess had no lack of ambition. Snow would make sure that he was well-situated.nd he would do it in such a way that Baron would think that he was doing Snow a favor. Baron would never ask for help, but a chance to have Snow owe him one? Snow would find a good apartment, make it safe, and then ask Baron if he could "watch" it for Snow as Snow was required to work away from Mereldar. 

Bishop is... Bishop. I suspect he stayed long enough to ensure his brother would survive the trip down before he ran off on the first ship to this 'Siren Isle'.

Ah yes. Bishop might not be speaking to his brother, but - like Snow - he would do his best to help keep Baron safe. Snow shook his head; Reina and Cassia had scolded and remonstrated with the Twins, reminding them on how their friction wore down their mother's spirit, and perhaps we might see both of them visit at the same time during Winterfest. 

I don't know for sure, he never writes, and Jon- Well my husband is ever faithful to the Lord Admiral, and to me in all matters except where the safeguarding of his life is concerned. We may have returned to Boralus for a time, to ensure the enemies within the Admiralty do not destroy it in her absence, but I would be a fool to forget that one shadowy summon in the middle of the night would see him off right back into that forsaken underground. He is her best man, even now.

Snow did not actually know whether or not Jon had been entirely forthcoming about the assignments Jon periodically asked Snow to do. So far, one could not point to anything that might indicate that Snow was going to follow into the "family business" - entering the service of Kul Tiras - but it was also not off the table. 

Snow would do anything any of the family asked of them. That is what family did.

In summary, your aunt requires that in the course of your other duties and jobs, you ensure that you still have a family to call yours. I will be sure to send cheese in the meantime.

Love, 

Alia

Snow smiled. Cheese. Always cheese.

(PS: Please ask around the Arathi for tips on training the lynxes while they are cubs. Jon brought one as a companion to Cassia more on a whim then with any sense of how unruly these creatures are between kitten and adult. This one 'Vanilla' insists on spilling my coffee every chance she gets!)

Snow would make sure to send Alia a supply of Vorquin Filet, so she could give Vanilla a taste of what some of the lynxes ate in the wild.

 

Snow FitzSilver (07) - A Letter to Boralus

Dear Aunt Alia,

It feels strange calling you "Aunt", given that you seem far too young to have a child my age, but I don't want to fail to show the proper respect and familial affection I hold for you. if you have any suggestions, I am always open.

I don't seem to have that problem with our Agent of Cheese. "That Bastard" seems to work well enough, and all of the rest of the family know immediately to whom I refer. 

That Bastard suggested that when I find myself in Khaz Algar that I take a moment to write to you, and reassure you that I am well. Or at least, well enough. Please give my affection to the Princess and the Paladin, and kindly ignore the Twins; but please tell them that I gave them enough regard to tell you they were to be ignored. 

They'll understand, and ignore me right back, which beats the beating they promised me when they thought my eye alighted on Reina with too much... enthusiasm. 

In any case, I have finished escorting the beautiful and clever Ren'dorei Annya Brightstone to Mereldar, where she has taken up residence. I have myself moved on to a small town called Dunelle's Kindness, where the Innkeeper has a penchant for over-cooking the mutton. It is, however, inexpensive and clean.

Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you are the family while I am here. And send cheese - its not very well-appreciated here, apparently.

Love,

Snow

A Steamy Romance - A Tarnished Night in Blackrock

 (WIP)

The walls of the immense tunnels below Blackrock Mountain, an active volcano, had been initially formed by geothermic lava tubes, then expanded and smoothed by the Dark Iron artisans over centuries, in service to the demigod Ragnaros, summoned by them in the distant past.    

The Tarnished Knight ran his hand over the smooth, almost glass-lick obsidian, impressed by the skilled workmanship, even as he deplored the use to which they had been put. 

The Tarnished Knight had been assigned the task of rescuing a prisoner in the Shadowforge City prison cells, located in the volcanic bowels of the lower city. There was a prisoner, a human named Shill Dinger, who had a key piece of information about the upper echelons of the Scarlet Inquisition, information that Matthias Shaw wanted. Shaw had made the request of the Silver Hand, and the Silver Hand had assigned the task to their most expendable operative... him.

There was only one hitch - to spring the prisoner, he would need the key to his cell.

A Steamy Romance - A Tarnished Knight in Booty Bay

 The Tarnished Knight groaned from the dull throb emanating from his forehead. His head felt as if an ogre was using it for drum practice. He tried to move, but once he was awake enough to move in spite of his aching head he realized his mobility was limited by the iron manacles which bound him to the curved wall of the ship's hull. 

Slowly he remembered. He had taken a ride from Stormwind Harbor aboard the Relentless under Captain Hicks, and the ship had been attacked by a pirate ship called The Firebrand, which flew the flag of the Blackwater Raiders. 

He remembered fighting, and then leading a boarding action, taking the fight to the raiders. He remembered his compatriots being pushed back to the Relentless and the Tarnished Knight being cut off. What he didn't remember was the club that had rendered him senseless.

Focusing, he summoned the healing energy of the Light to remedy his likely concussion and headache. He settled to his knees and began to pray; meditation and prayer often cleared his mind and allowed him to figure out his next move.

Before too long a pair of sailors appeared, one a green-hued troll and a goblin. "Time for your interro... interview with the Captain," said the goblin as the troll unlocked the chain connecting the manacles to the wall, leaving the manacles in place like an oversized pair of handcuffs. They conducted the Tarnished Knight to the almost-luxurious Captain's Cabin, and then left, leaving him alone with their captain.

"Well, well, well... what do we do with you?" said the pirate captain. She was a Blood Elf with long black hair and luminescent green eyes. "You managed to kill quite a few of my crew before we took you down; clearly, you are a skilled combatant. Ordinarily, we'd just have slit your throat and tossed you overboard as fish food. We still might do that, unless you give us a reason to spare your life and earn your freedom. We could use a good healer; would you be willing to join my crew?"

"No," responded the Tarnished Knight. 

"OK... how about ransom? Anybody willing to buy your freedom from us?"

"You saw my armor," said the Tarnished Knight with a suppressed smile. "All my earnings have gone to support the orphans of Stormwind and Boralus." 

"The Order of the Silver Hand?" asked the Captain.

The Tarnished Knight shrugged. "You can ask, I suppose, but don't hold your breath."

The Captain sighed. "I guess that leaves us with personal service to me. What service are you willing to offer me?"

"Well, I do have some skill with my hands and mouth..." the Tarnished Knight offered.

"So you are skilled at either talking your way out of trouble with your mouth? Or brawling your way out of trouble with your hands" asked the Captain.

The Tarnished Knight smirked. "I meant more of a more intimate, personal way of using my mouth and hands for your... satisfaction".

 (The rest of the pages are written in [Thalassian], and practically illegible.)

A Steamy Romance - A Tarnished Knight in Darkshire

 

Succubus

The Tarnished Knight smiled up from the table in the Scarlet Raven Tavern at the beautiful and sultry woman who had approached him.

"Sir Paladin, I was wondering if I might ask you for a favor; my home is some distance away, and I was wondering if you might give me an escort home?" she said, pleading.

The Tarnished Knight looked at her long brunette hair, warm brown eyes, and thought he detected a smirk; clearly she was not as afraid as she professed.

"I would be most happy to see you home," said the Tarnished Knight with a smile.

He finished his Hearthglen Ambrosia and stood, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

The two left the tavern and headed on the road that would eventually lead to Raven Hill. She led him along the road until she guided him off to the side road which led to the Tranquil Gardens Cemetery.

"My home is right here, on the left," she said. Leading him across the fallow field, she unlocked the door and ushered him inside. "Thank you so much for seeing me safely home. May I offer you some ale?"

"My throat is a trifle parched. An ale would be lovely," the Tarnished Knight replied.

She fetched him an ale, which he quaffed in one long gulp. "I feel... strange..." he declared before he fell to the floor.

He awakened later, his head pounding; whatever she had slipped him in the ale packed quite the hangover! His wrists were manacled to the basement wall, and in the center of the basement was a summoning circle. His armor and weapons were piled in the corner, and he realized that he was quite naked.

"Ah, you awaken," she said. "Now to disgrace you by making you violate your Oath of Chastity!" The woman began casting a spell, chanting in [Demonic], summoning a Sayadi demoness - a seductive Succubus. The woman, now revealed to be a Warlock, settled herself in a comfortable chair on the far side of the summoning circle. "I will enjoy watching!" she exclaimed, pulling her skirt aside to reveal that she wore a skimpy pair of red lace panties. Her fingers slipped underneath, and she began pleasuring herself.

The Tarnished Knight's erection grew prominently. "Do your worst, I will not succumb!"

Inside, he smirked, remembering that he had taken no Oath of Chastity... but the warlock didn't know that!

(The rest of the pages are written in [Demonic], obviously from the Succubus' point of view.)

Gaaron (03) - Green and Growing

Gaaron

Gaaron had just about settled nicely into his new… job? Occupation? Prison? “Whatever I want to call it, it is a damned sight more comfortable than my share of a cell in the Stockades, that much is clear!” he thought to himself. 

Gaaron had been an inmate of the Stormwind Stockades when a riot had broken out. As a result of his actions during it, Gaaron was recruited by a secret organization called the Disposable Operations Personnel Engagement team, or D.O.P.E., which served the Alliance as deniable operatives whose failure would not embarrass the Alliance or upset any delicate political considerations if they were captured or killed. The team was run by a dwarf named Lucius Stonehand and consisted mainly of convicted prisoners who were quartered in a specially sectioned-off student dormitory room in the floating city of Dalaran, capital of the Magiarchy of Dalaran. As the home of the Kirin Tor, the city was the centerpiece of learning, open to both the Horde and the Alliance while it currently floated over the Crystalsong Forest area of Northrend, acting as a bulwark against the depredations of the Lich King. During time between missions, Gaaron was permitted his armor, weapons, and other equipment, to keep all of it in condition for the next mission. His other teammates shared something similar to Gaaron's room, connected to a common room where they were served their meals (by far a much more comfortable existence than their previous accommodations). Between missions, the members of the team were also allowed to seek legitimate employment within Dalaran, so long as it was legal. After all, their quarters and the food may have been paid for by D.O.P.E., but they were convicts; anything else required them to supply the coin.  

Gaaron responded to such an offer of employment. The local herbalists had made it known that they needed some manual, unskilled labor, and he needed to learn more about botany and the cultivation of herbs to improve his chances out in the field. 

“Hello, good sir! How may we serve you?” asked a gray-haired balding gentleman as Gaaron entered the shop.

“I am told that you might have a job for manual labor, helping to take care of plants,” said Gaaron.

“Ah yes. It’s been hard to fill, so many in Dalaran think that honest labor is beneath them,” said the fellow. “I am Edwin Egan, and my wife Dorothy runs the place with me. Well, she does the hard work; I’m just a glorified shop clerk and bookkeeper.” Edwin led him over to his wife and passed him over for her supervision. “She’ll get you started, young fellow!” 

Gaaron learned the basics swiftly; All the job truly entailed was replacing the topsoil of the in-ground plants with fresh fertilizer, and ensuring each plant was watered, which for some plants meant a sprinkle and some a whole can or more. But it was this basicness of the job that made it tedious, something that no haughty novice would want to waste time on, but made for excellent learning material for Gaaron. “This book here details the care and watering schedules, and this shelf has books about the specific uses for each,” Dorothy informed him. 

“Umm…” Gaaron said, embarrassed. “I don’t know how to read. At least, not well.”

“Well, that sounds like an excellent place to begin, then,” said Dorothy with a warm smile. 

As there were no available wax tablets or chalkboards, Gaaron discovered that soil made a passable substitute. Weeks passed this way, with Gaaron spending the time when he was not involved in a D.O.P.E. mission (including preparation and recovery time) working as an herbalist, until one day as he was working, Dorothy introduced Gaaron to her daughter, Patricia.

“Patricia is an alchemist,” Dorothy said. “When you are ready, she has volunteered to introduce you to the basics of alchemy.”

“But I have no money to pay for lessons,” observed Gaaron.

“That doesn’t matter,” said Patricia. “I am happy to help, and lend you some books that might help with the basic principles.”

Thus did Patricia spend time teaching Gaaron how to read during his work breaks, and it opened his mind to a world of possibility that he quickly took advantage of. After his work in the cultivation rows was finished for the day, Gaaron would steal the supplies he needed to continue at night; slowly over time to not be caught, he accumulated several quill pens, some low-quality paper (easily come by in a city of students), and candles. He obtained a few seals and a supply of red sealing wax, and late at night, during the only time he had left to himself, picked up practicing the “fine art” of opening seals of messages. With a hot blade to leave the wax intact, he would slide the blade under the seal to gently pry it off, rather than slice it through completely. 

The why was obvious; sometimes it was more useful to know how to reseal the messages he had no permission to read after he read them, rather than steal the message and risk the tampering being discovered and the information rendered useless by the discovery. People often acted differently when they thought people knew what they were up to, and changed plans accordingly. Human nature, but one that made his role in D.O.P.E difficult. 

Besides, it left Gaaron time to address the small niggle that had begun to grow in his mind; Dorothy and Patricia were generous and kind, and helped him out of the goodness of their hearts. It seemed strangely foreign to Gaaron that there were people - not many perhaps, but a few - who were not solely motivated by self-interest of one sort or another. Certainly, the people with whom he had associated in the past, from the whores in Goldshire to his comrades in the Defias Brotherhood, to the other prisoners in the Stockades were not motivated by any altruism or kind impulse. They, for one reason or another, were selfish, and often cruel and cold in that selfishness. 

But not the Egans, and that puzzled Gaaron for a long time, until the only conclusion Gaaron could agree on some months later was that the Egans would be thoroughly disappointed in him and hurt by his actions if they knew Gaaron was stealing the supplies. The idea worried him. He would do anything to avoid it.

The next time he needed to resupply, Gaaron went the long way home to buy his candles instead.