A Rogue's Tale - Ziah's story

I thought I'd flesh out some of Ziah's backstory a bit more and explain a bit of how she found herself as a rogue. More will be added as I get the chance to write it
Some of this is stuff that's on other parts of the forum - sorry for duplication, I wanted to keep everything together



A young dark haired blood elf was running through Silvermoon city before the destruction. She was followed by an older dark haired boy.
"Ziah, slow down!" the boy called as he chased the girl.
"It's just up here!" she called back, slipping through a crack in a wall and into a courtyard on the other side.
"You know you're not supposed to be in there!" the boy called after her through the crack.
"It's so lovely in here," she replied. "And the air is so clear, and it positively fizzes with magic. Come and see!"
Ziah turned around and smiled sweetly at her brother. He sighed, and muttering rude things about little sisters, squeezed his way through the gap and joined her in the garden.
"Isn't it lovely?" she asked as he came through.
He shivered and opened his eyes wide, as if he'd just bitten a lemon. "What is this place?" he asked, looking around.
"The warlock's garden," Ziah replied with a michievous glint in her eye, watching her brother's eyes open wide.
"We have to get out of here!" he said, grabbing her wrist and dragging her towards the crack. "Do you know what the warlock will do if he finds us here?"
The girl started protesting as her brother tried to push her through the wall, then froze as a voice boomed out across the garden.
"Intruders! What are you doing here?"
"Hurry!" the boy hissed at her as she wriggled through the wall. Ziah watched as he started to squeeze through the gap, then froze as a bolt of arcane magic blasted out from the other side of the wall and engulfed the boy.
"No! Telamain!" she shouted, powerless to do anything as the magic rippled across his body.
The boy's eyes flew open at the sound of her voice, and for a moment she felt a surge of hope.
But as she watched her hope vanished, to be replaced with horror.
Telamain's eyes glowed brightly as, rather than being overpowered by the magical forces surrounding him, he seemed to be drinking them in.
"No, don't! It's too much!" Ziah cried, terrified as she watched her brother change before her eyes. His eyes burned brighter and brighter with a sick yellow-green glow, while in contrast his skin colour seemed to fade from its deep tanned colour until it was pale grey.
"More, I need more," he gasped, looking around with wild eyes as he absorbed the last of the magic surrounding him.
He stared at Ziah and for a moment she was afraid he would attack her, but then he looked past her towards the park where the mana wyrms swam gracefully in the air. He pushed her roughly to one side and Ziah watched as the wretched elf - her brother no more - started draining the magic from the wyrms.

---reserved---

---reserved---

The slender sin'dorei walked down Murder Row with a swing, stopping only to relieve a drunk of his change as she passed him. Anyone watching would have thought the young elf was helping the poor almost unconscious man into a sitting position, but a few hours later when he had recovered from his drunken stupor he discovered she had been well paid for her 'help'.

She continued down Murder Row and out into the sunlight where she shook her dark chestnut hair back from her face and smiled as she welcomed the feel of the sun on her face.

A watching guard eyed her suspiciously - it was unusual to see someone so happy for no apparent reason. Didn't she have the longing to feel arcane magic coursing through her veins that he and every other Silvermoon resident did?

She walked over to his guard post as if to ask something.

"Shorel'aran," he snapped, a little harder than usual.

"Bala'dash," she replied in a soft, low-pitched voice, sounding a little put out. "I'm looking for the house of Jaelan Dawnseeker. Do you know where I could find it?"

The guard eyed her curiously. "Why do you want to know?" he asked.

She frowned and for a moment her hand moved to rest on the hilt of a dagger hanging from her belt. "It you can't tell me I can just go and ask someone who can," she replied, a harder edge coming into her voice.

The guard frowned and gripped his staff harder, bringing it slightly forward as if to warn the young elf to be cooperative. In response instead of becoming more polite she simply rolled her eyes and sighed.

"I just want to know where the house is," she repeated.

"Why would you want to know that? There's noone there - the old man's been taken away," the guard replied.

"E'chuta!" the elf exclaimed in Zandali, then repeated herself in Thalassian as the guard lowered his weapon towards her.

"What kind of a sin'dorei speaks troll language when she swears?" he asked, glaring at her and noticing for the first time the long boots she wore, which could only have been made by trolls, and her ragged shorts. "You should come with me - you should explain yourself to the Magistrix," he ordered roughly.

The elf took a step back and looked around her. Two more guards were striding over to where she was and an arcane guardian wasn't far away.

"Stay where you are!" the first guard ordered.

"Alright," she replied, raising her hands slowly above her head.

"What's going on?" a second guard asked as he arrived at the scene. "Who are you? What do you want?"

She smiled sweetly and winked at the first guard. "Beware o' da voodoo," she told him, enjoying the look of surprise on his face. Then, pulling in the light towards herself, she melted out of sight.

The guards shouted and rushed forward to the spot where she had been, but there was no sign of her - she had gone.

Ziah Dawnseeker watched the guards' confusion with an amused glint in her green eyes. She had learned that trick from an old troll shaman in Durotar who had declared her to be his best student.

"Two hours in town and I'm already in trouble," she muttered to herself, then smiled. "I'm glad I came back!"

Ziah strolled through Farstrider Square rummaging in the large bag she carried. She stopped in the middle of the square and looked around, then headed for the back of the weaponsmith's caravan.

She pulled a large piece of rolled up parchment out of her bag and carefully unrolled it, holding it up against the wall and smiling approvingly. Taking a small hammer out of her bag and a handful of tacks from her pocket, she proceeded to nail it to the wall.

As she worked a fair-haired Silvermoon guardian came into the square and, attracted by the sound of tapping, peered around the side of the caravan to find the source of the noise.

He frowned as he saw what was going on and, as Ziah knocked in the last tack and stood back to admire the brightly coloured poster now firmly attached to the wall, the guard tapped her on the shoulder.

"Shorel'aran - what are you doing? This is vandalism," he snapped as she turned to face him, gesturing to the poster.

Ziah sighed and replaced the hammer in her bag where a dozen more rolled up posters lay. "This isn't vandalism, it's O Tal Nor," she replied, pointing to the words on the poster.

"What do you take me for? The festival of the new day hasn't been celebrated in years - since before the scourge came," the guardian replied, looking sceptically at the poster, which declared the festival celebrations would be taking place the following month.

The rogue sighed again at the stupidity of the city guards. "Well I know that," she replied scornfully. "But obviously it's been ressurected. And we have permission to publicise it however we like within the city. I have special permission from the magistrix."

The guard raised one eyebrow doubtfully and moved forward to read the poster. Ziah stepped back to let him get closer.

"Hmm... It seems to be alright, but I shall still have to check your permission to display these notices in the city," he told her. "You'll have to come with me to the magistrix."

He turned around but the rogue had disappeared. From the far end of the square he thought he heard laughter, but he couldn't see anyone there. Sighing despondantly he turned back to the poster, then smiled as he read through the small print - it sounded like it would be an interesting evening.



"What is that noise?!" Lynnora exclaimed, looking up from her notepad.

She was sitting at a table inside the inn in Ratchet discussing plans for the celebrations of O Tal Nor. She had been delegated with providing fireworks, and had been deep in discussion with one of the goblin engineers about the best way to make green flares when the screaming and thudding noises started up outside the tavern.

She put down her pen and, followed by a slightly nervous Engineer Fizzlesprank, went to the doorway of the inn.

The sight that met their eyes seemed to be a cross between a scrapyard and a butchery.

A large chainmail-clad orc was standing surrounded by a pile of metal that looked as if it had once been a mechanohog, and an equally large pile of squishy red objects that looked as if it might once have been goblins.

Another dark haired blood elf came out of a hut on the far side of the docks, also drawn by the noise. She had a curious look on her face, and her dagger was drawn as if she was expecting trouble. Not that Lynn was surprised - Ziah always seemed to be in trouble of some sort.

The orc let you a bloodcurdling yell pulling both blood elves' attention back to him. Lynn wrinkled her nose as the sea breeze blew the sickly smell of goblin blood towards her. As they both watched, the orc turned on a pair of goblins who were trying to sneak around him to get away and slashed wildly at them with an axe, killing one instantly. At least, Lynn assumed he was dead - she'd never seen a living goblin without a head at any rate. The axe had ended its swing in the leg of the second goblin, which shrieked in pain.

Opposite Lynn, Ziah wrinkled her nose in distaste and rummaged in her small belt pouch where she always kept a supply of lotions and potions. "Keep him busy!" she mouthed to Lynn, as she pulled in the light towards her and faded from view.

"Hey, you, you disgusting lump of flesh!" Lynn yelled in Orcish at the lumbering brute. He turned in surprise to see who would be brave - or foolish - enough to address him in such an impolite way. "What are you doing?" the elf continued. "Why are you doing this to all these poor goblins?"

The orc yanked his axe out of the leg of the goblin, who squeaked loudly as he did, and wiped the blood off on his tabard, which declared him to be a member of the Ashen Order.

"'Ate'm," he rumbled.

"You eat them?" Lynn replied, shocked. Behind the orc she caught a glimpse of Ziah slipping back into view as she bandaged the injured goblin's leg.

"'Ate'm, wanna kill 'em all," the orc answered.

"Oh, you hate them," Lynn said, light dawning at last, and then jumping out of the way as the orc picked up the decapitated head of one of the unfortunate goblins and hurled it at a gnome who was in the crowd which had gathered. It splatted on the floor in front of the gnome's feet, spilling blood and brains all over his shoes. A nervous laugh rose from the crowd in response, but the orc wasn't paying them any attention.

"But why? Who are you?" she asked, trying to get some sense out of the orc.

"Kretch," he replied, putting away his axe and pulling out a sword. The crowd pushed back as he testing the blade and gave it a few test swings.

"Is there any chance I can persuade you to not slaughtered these goblins?" Lynn asked, despairing of ever distracting the orc.

"No," he replied monosyllabically, lowering his sword and unleasing a shockwave on a young Draenei who had made the mistake of entering the walkway at that moment. As the Draenei crumpled to the floor Lynn finally lost her temper with the muscle-bound warrier.

"I should crown you 'Kretch, Murderer of many Goblins and One Draenei'!" she almost shouted. "Could you stop your mindless slaughter of these poor goblins before you chop them all to bits?"

Kretch waved his sword around unsteadily and blinked, and for a moment Lynn feared that he may be about to turn her into elf sushi. Her hand slid to the dagger beneath her dark red robe, but before she had a chance to draw the blade the orc relaxed and lowered his weapons.

"What you want?" he growled at her.

"I'd like you to calm down and leave the goblins alone," she told him. "I'm trying to conduct business here, and I can't very well do that if you're killing the people I'm trying to do business with!"

"Dey busted my ride," the orc replied, gesturing violently towards the heap of metal. "Bit fell offa it an' den it crashed."

Lynn breathed a sigh of relief. So that was what the matter was. That was easily fixed. She held out her hands in what she hoped the orc would take as a gesture of friendship.

"Some of the goblins here are excellent engineers," she told him. "Including Mr Fizzlesprank here," she indicated the frightened goblin peeping out from behind the doorway of the inn. "If you let them take a look at your hog I'm sure they could fix it for you - free of charge, of course."

The orc hesitated for a moment. "Dey make it work again?" he growled.

Lynn nodded. "It will take them some time though," she added. "So while they work, why don't we go into the Broken Keel for a drink or two."

The orc nodded, licking his lips at the thought of a large flagon of ale. Lynn stepped back to let him through and as she did felt something press into her hand.

"Something to help him relax," Lynn heard Ziah's voice in her ear, although the rogue had disappeared from view again.

"Is 'relax' a euphamism?" she asked, knowing a little of the way Ziah's mind worked.

She got no reply except a laugh, and shrugged as she followed the orc into the inn. It looked as if the fireworks would have to wait - first there would be a body to dispose of...

Very exiting story! ^^
I really enjoyed reading it!
Ziah sometimes makes me shiver, and not in a good way.