tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30367763595608822112012-02-16T02:20:36.698-08:00A collection of short stories. Enjoy!Talatharnoreply@blogger.comBlogger411100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-40438145853598040212009-09-08T13:09:00.000-07:002009-09-09T22:38:02.128-07:00

Summer in Southern California can be a brutal beast to endure - especially for those wearing permanently attached fur coats. And in the sweltering heat, even the most luxurious, silky of long-haired fur coats can become an almost unbearable burden.Some can take solace in the coolness of temperature-controlled environments, but not all are so fortunate. And so must these poor souls endure the

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-30317988662536509482009-03-04T18:11:00.000-08:002009-03-04T18:12:45.058-08:00

In the dim almost-darkness, there was nothing to see but endless mist and fog. She found herself walking aimlessly, her steps muffled in eerie silence. No, not quite aimlessly. But for what purpose she couldn’t remember.“About time, paladin,” a gruff voice called out. The voice echoed hollowly, unnatural even in the strange blanket of dream mist. She blinked. A shadow detached itself from the fog

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-64217857792235348362009-03-03T15:19:00.000-08:002009-03-03T15:22:12.417-08:00

“Ratslobber, go!” I shout, pointing at a target. With a wordless growl, it shambles forward, lashing out at the indicated target with claws and teeth, even as I engage another. Scarlet fools, remnants of the fallen Crusade, they huddle at Hearthglen and imagine themselves safe.There is no safety for them. We of Acherus no longer follow the frozen ass of Northrend. His whispers do not cloud our

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-77424999948246967612009-03-03T15:10:00.000-08:002009-03-03T15:19:19.671-08:00

“Concentrate, death knight,” the Lady Alistra instructs, looking down upon me coldly. “Focus your will.” Wordlessly, I nod, gathering the sickly-green energies within myself. The circle of initiates around me watch dispassionately, dead eyes reflecting neither curiosity nor compassion. I expect neither. Acherus has washed away all that. Heroes and champions, villains and thieves, all washed clean

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-90084406809208006092009-01-29T19:23:00.001-08:002009-01-29T19:25:25.147-08:00

“Does Branwynne know about all this?”The other shook her head. “No,” the hollow voice replied. “She does not. For her, our memories are yet… tangled. Much of what she recalls of my existence, she mistakes for her own deeds.”“Then what right do you have to decide what is best for her?” Lyirdanna growled. “You admit this isn’t your body, or your place.”The bound dwarf barked a laugh. “Think about

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-57663720308557249232008-11-06T01:25:00.001-08:002009-01-10T21:25:22.515-08:00

Once, in life, I was a dwarf of the Steelhammer clan. I do not recall much of the time before the Deathwar. But I remember the name.According to the dragon we spoke to, your dwarven friend and I, there is another Azeroth out there, on some different plane of existence. A different Azeroth, where different choices were made. In my Azeroth, former Highlord Tirion Fordring was executed for treason.

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-7007823437706286162008-11-04T23:15:00.000-08:002008-11-06T01:27:15.497-08:00

They secured the paladin firmly, tying her to the chair at several points, in order to be sure she would not manage to break free. Just in case. “Try to relax,” the priest soothed, her voice soft and comforting. “Let your tension go, envision it lifting from you…”“Bloody hard ta relax, right now,” the dwarf grumbled under her breath. “I’m tied ta this bloody chair, and someone keeps chattering at

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-67624872022873472502008-10-29T20:06:00.000-07:002008-11-06T01:26:52.721-08:00

Up high in the city of Shattrath, at the inn on the Aldor terraces, Branwynne Stelhamor peered at the contents of a small glass jar and sighed. It was almost empty again. Already. She was grateful for the improved formula – it was a LOT less smelly – but it was still a routine she would just as well be done with. Still, the druids seemed encouraged. After all these months – almost a year, now? –

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-51491341995135573012008-08-01T14:23:00.000-07:002008-08-01T14:25:35.613-07:00

Journal Entry 523 – Location, Felwood.I attempted to use the Universal Language Translation device (ULTD) to communicate with a friendly female individual of the Tauren race who was standing by the road. Although I am positive Nikolas has updated and upgraded all the systems, I do believe that the device is still in need of some fine tuning. I am not sure why the friendly tall Tauren druid lady

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-22575102386133886222008-07-11T13:07:00.000-07:002008-07-11T13:08:59.130-07:00

Felwood. Adelheide looked about anxiously as she rode through the haunted trees. Some of them looked like twisted faces, screaming in anguish. A few even dripped an eerie greenish goo, which clearly was not mere tree sap. Mere tree sap didn’t glow that way. Even the wildlife seemed diseased, and decidedly hostile. All about, the land seemed to languish in decay. "This is almost the worse thing

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-80601532241267946872008-06-18T21:20:00.000-07:002008-06-18T21:21:54.640-07:00

“No, dear,” the engineer replied calmly, the bulk of his concentration still on fine-tuning the calibration of his latest project. “I haven’t seen her yet today.”Adelheide frowned. “It’s been almost a week, Nik. You… you don’t think…?”The clear worry in her voice, tinged with a hint of fear, made him look up. An Addy flustered with panic was not a good situation for anyone. “Now Addy,” he

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-53852332195550203972008-06-03T12:27:00.000-07:002008-06-07T11:30:08.616-07:00

Branny walked through Ironforge tiredly, careful to keep out of the way of the various people busily rushing down the streets on their own, myriad errands. While the city was never exactly quiet, it was quieter than she remembered from days long past. The rough and rowdy adventuring types had moved their base of operations to distant Shattrath, leaving the citizens of Ironforge in relative

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-72111503270731768872008-05-21T21:40:00.000-07:002008-05-22T09:19:05.672-07:00

How long am I goin ta have to do this?She grimaced and opened the jar, trying to ignore the pungent odor. And failing. Again. Determinedly, she dipped two fingers into the buggering mess, scooped out a minimal portion, and smeared it distastefully over her left hand and arm. Once done, she wiped the remaining bit of goop off her fingers with a bit of faded cloth, and tossed it into the small fire

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-1864282178425449942008-05-14T17:02:00.000-07:002008-05-14T17:35:35.009-07:00

When Taro is inside the house, he is generally a fairly well-behaved little bugger. He doesn't claw his people, he doesn't rip the furniture to shreds, he doesn't jump on the kitchen counter, and he doesn't poop in your shoes (usually, unless you've done something to REALLY annoy him). But somehow, once he gets outside, that all changes.Well, at least it USED to change. He doesn't go out much,

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-86296751971267909332008-05-12T22:49:00.000-07:002008-05-12T22:53:14.604-07:00

(A letter to Lyirdanna)Dear former high lady miss tall one Lyirdanna ma’am,Greetings and salutations.Nikolas has been busily reviewing the designs that young Abigayle adapted for this mobile containment unit that she was working on. He is very concerned about so many different systems being contained in one single device. Most were intended on being individual devices. Nik says that combining so

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-40573035671853726862008-05-08T13:53:00.000-07:002008-05-08T14:02:38.428-07:00

Taro is the family cat. More properly, he is my mom’s cat. Or maybe more accurately, he is the divine cat overlord of the household, lord and master of all he surveys. Which is the entire house. And the people in it. And anyone who comes to visit. An adorable collection of floofy fur and various neuroses (results of a traumatizing kittenhood), all wrapped up in a 20-pound ball of quintessential

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-51374483488508961752008-05-06T17:49:00.001-07:002008-05-06T17:51:30.222-07:00

As if things weren’t already bad enough… she grumbled silently, as she quickly stomped her way through the busy city. She’d been fairly lucky, for the most part. Until the other day, that is. Rage and despair rocked through her.What is it about nosy druids and meddling paladins? She’d done her best to drive the pair off. It had worked with everyone else, thus far. But the druid had not been so

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-4427671653362786792008-05-01T10:37:00.000-07:002008-05-08T14:00:05.305-07:00

Taro arrived at his new home, not as a cute little double-handful of kitten fur, but as a wide-eyed, terrified armful of nervous floof. It was only to expected, really – he was rescued from an over-crowded household (two humans, a dog, and a pot-bellied pig), and an abusive owner to boot. He had been found in the remains of a plastic shopping bag, abandoned on the side of the road, about 8 months

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-18912911701752157082008-04-28T16:29:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:58:00.558-07:00

She scowled down at the new letter, freshly delivered. She knew who it was from, written as it was on a bit of tree bark, carefully rolled and sealed with twine. The delivery gnome had already scampered away by the time she looked up again – he’d been on the job long enough to know when a quick exit was warranted. Several of the taverns other patrons looked at each other in askance, but, seeing

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-21944955199259554412008-04-22T21:41:00.001-07:002008-04-28T16:44:01.298-07:00

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” the small figure asked, doubt visible in her eyes, obscured as they were behind rose-colored goggles almost bigger than her head. “This particular field of research is still very much in its beginning stages, and this device is only an individual, experimental endeavor, based solely on very limited data. I must warn you, there is the very

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-67014331265963538322008-04-22T21:39:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:44:01.298-07:00

A tattered figure limped along the hilly edges of Thelsamar.By height and stature the patrollers knew it to be a dwarf, from the worn, miss-matched armor of otherworldly and clashing designs, one but recently returned from the Outlands. The figure acknowledged them with a polite nod, but did not remove the covered helm, nor pause to chat.The stranger walked out to one particular tree, marked only

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-9591140869857245962008-03-06T23:10:00.000-08:002008-04-28T16:44:01.299-07:00

Focus.She puzzled over it all that night. And all the next morning as well. Even the nightly punishment on the practice yard later that evening failed to drive the confusion away. It nagged at her, worrying at her mind like mice at sacks of grain. Persistent, unending gnawing. Leaving an empty sack full of holes.Focus.So, was it a question of focus, then? What was she focusing on? What should she

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-77894227785752959502008-02-16T00:40:00.000-08:002008-04-28T16:44:01.300-07:00

“Again!” She raised her weighted practice hammer, suppressing a wordless growl of frustration. Bloody hammer is TWICE the weight of a true warhammer! ‘Tis e’en heavier ‘n da’s smithin hammer. Th’ TWO HANDED one, fer foldin sword-steel! An’ I’m supposed ta be wieldin th’ bloody thing wi’ one hand? In th’ bloody pourin rain? In th’ bloody dark?‘Tis nae trainin, this. ‘Tis bloody TORTURE!“Put your

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-19262057726975369342008-01-14T23:18:00.000-08:002008-04-28T16:44:01.300-07:00

In Japanese legends, a cat can be a powerful spirit. A cat that lives long enough is said to develop supernatural powers. As all spirits from Japanese mythology, such spirits can be either malevolent or benevolent, depending on the cat – and the circumstances of the story.__________In the shadows, something watched, waiting. Soon, it would begin.The old cat lay peacefully, eyes closed, basking in

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-338304036504420512007-04-30T02:30:00.001-07:002008-04-28T16:44:01.301-07:00

Under Emissary Aurelie’s gentle ministrations, the little gnome was soon back to her pre-hoof-stomping self. Which was a relief to everyone. Most especially the small mechanical squirrel. The scolding was not nearly as harsh as Addy had previously anticipated. Although it was indeed quite a scolding. And Addy did have to promise Nik that she would not again be quite so eager to measure the width

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-50683091600410667152007-04-30T02:27:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:44:01.302-07:00

The mechanical squirrel scampered off – but only a little ways, stopping every few feet to make sure that it was being properly followed. When it did not seem satisfied with the speed of their progress, it would twitch and chitter with every appearance of real annoyance. It lead the Emissary back the way it came. First, through the streets of Stormwind, to the smokey Dwarven District. Then,

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-56862433574359100822007-04-29T20:19:00.001-07:002008-04-28T16:44:01.302-07:00

Spot was a determined mechanical squirrel. Perhaps it was in his nature to be determined. After all, his creator had not built him with an understanding of what it meant to give up. Then again it could be that gnomish inventors themselves did not understand what it meant to give up. One cannot, after all, program one's inventions with the understanding of a concept one could not oneself

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-73734257498745829112007-04-29T19:55:00.001-07:002008-04-28T16:44:24.179-07:00

Adelheide winced at the pain. She couldn’t move without some part of her body informing her most insistently that it did not approve of any such activity. In fact, if she were to hazard a guess without any visual confirmation, she’d estimate that perhaps 99.7% of her body was covered in bruises. Or perhaps, one single large bruise was covering 99.7% of her body? She wondered idly what percentage

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-773434061620749422007-04-29T19:52:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:45:00.478-07:00

Adelheide woke slowly, her mind unusually hazy and slow this morning. Or was it morning? She wasn’t absolutely sure. The gnome opened her eyes and blinked them into focus. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t in her own bed.Wha… where… OUCH!She had tried to turn her head to shift her gaze – that was her mistake. That’s what prodded the rest of her body awake, and that’s when the pain

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-13197810568594155532007-04-29T19:41:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:45:31.680-07:00

Sleep was often long in coming, in the following weeks. Every day was a struggle with books and lectures and lessons, confronted by foreign ideas and philosophies. Every night was another struggle, as she wrestled with the alien thoughts and musings crowding her mind. Not to mention the sore muscles and bruises – old as he seemed, she’d been reminded yet again that Bernhardt was still quicker

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-61427442415656271612007-04-14T23:23:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:45:31.681-07:00

“Now, fighting with a hammer is different than using a sword or axe,” Bernhardt explained loudly, in a tone of long-suffering patience. “There’s no point, no edge, and no blade. Some liken it to the mace, as both rely on bludgeoning force.”Wyn grunted as she continued to attack the wooden figure before her. Her tormentor droned on, and she tried to focus both on her target and his words. She knew

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-8927707439304953332007-04-13T22:35:00.001-07:002008-04-28T16:45:31.682-07:00

“Catch.”Wyn looked up from the thick tome she was trying to decipher, and caught what was thrown at her. She frowned down at it a moment. “A hammer, sir?”“Yes.”She held it up quizzically. It seemed to be an old wooden mallet. Not much more than a squarish wooden block attached to a stout wooden handle, it had obviously seen a lot of use in its day. “An’ … and what am I supposed to be doing with

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-57911621001588191332007-04-13T22:31:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:45:31.683-07:00

Outside, the familiar clang of blade against blade filled the yard under the grey skies, followed by the familiar shouts of Sir Bernhardt’s lieutenants. The militia was now short two promising recruits, and so the training for the remaining young would-be protectors of Menethil Harbor had been intensified. That meant more training sessions for all of them.All save one.Wyn was not out with the

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-29889591823275706772007-04-13T22:30:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:45:31.684-07:00

“Well?”Bernhardt sighed wearily and rubbed at his eyes once again. Dawn had come and was hours past now, and yet the old paladin had not yet found time to rest. No time, not now. Time enough to rest later, laid out upon cold stone slab. Time for work, now.“Recruit Cordell is recovering in the infirmary,” Bernhardt replied quietly, rubbing his tired eyes with one hand. “He’s asleep. Probably for

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-90653557998951853152007-04-13T22:28:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:45:31.685-07:00

Bernhardt sighed and rubbed his eyes. Light, he was tired – so tired! – of trying to deal with this mess. But they were his recruits, his responsibility. All of three of them. If I can salvage any of them from ruin, after this. The one might be salvageable. The other, most likely lost. And the last, well... the last was anyone’s guess. In his time, he’d seen strong, proud warriors, men and women

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-25186679908875668702007-04-13T22:26:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:45:31.687-07:00

A firm hand on her shoulder drew her gently away from Taylor’s prone body. How much time had passed she wasn’t sure. She watched listlessly as the cloaked figure knelt beside Tay, examined the bloody wound, and the knife. Placed his outstretched hands over the wound. Murmured something over Tay’s still form, words she could not make out over the rain.A light sprang to life. Starting at the man’s

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-52272526502119505282007-04-13T22:11:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:45:31.688-07:00

Wyn blinked. Voices from far away. Hazy shapes. She blinked. What happened? She tried to think, even as she felt movement. The murmuring voices came closer, almost understandable through the haze. Angry voices.She blinked, trying to make sense of everything.Slowly, things became clearer. Wetness. Rain. Her head hurt. Dizzy. And someone was shouting."Don't do it, Lars! Don't!""Shut it, dog. Filthy

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-83932546261674294572007-04-13T22:09:00.002-07:002008-04-28T16:45:31.689-07:00

It was noon before they were released from their special drills. Normally, they'd have gate duty, or be given leave to return to their non-militia duties for the rest of the afternoon. But no, not for them. Sir Bernhardt had assigned them "special" duties for the duration of their punishment."Special" indeed. Such as mucking out the stables. With small flower-garden trowels. It was unpleasant

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-27311179798663633732007-04-13T22:09:00.001-07:002008-04-28T16:46:24.749-07:00

The rains came - an unending torrent of unforgiving water, falling on the miserable heads of any unfortunate enough to be caught outside. It rained for weeks, flooding the swamps and bringing the murlocs dangerously close to the city walls. The greybeards, safe indoors with their mugs of ale, their cozy chairs by a cheery fireplace, would later remember it as one of the worst winters Menethil had

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-14981815799253999382007-04-13T21:53:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:46:24.751-07:00

"Disgraceful," the old man growled at the muddy pair before him. He was pacing, as he often did when berating recruits. "Fighting. Again. Both of you. And besotted by drink. Again."The younger of the pair had the presence of mind to look to the stones in shame. But the other still stared up defiantly, unbowed by shame. Bolstered by dwarvish pride and anger. Her one good eye blazing with indignant

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3036776359560882211.post-85569450990447356452007-04-13T21:50:00.000-07:002008-04-28T16:46:24.752-07:00

It was the Boomstick's song contest, and they sat at a table together, listening. Some were some moving songs, some were funny songs - all offered by brave souls willing to stand on the stage and sing before the gathered throng. Then it was her turn to share a song - or rather, chant, as her singing voice was (as her father had always teased) enough to make dogs and small bairns howl in pain.It

Talatharnoreply@blogger.com0