Friday, August 7, 2009

On The Outside Looking In

The roar of the crowd startled Fulguralis from his sleep-deprived musings as he paced towards the mailbox outside of the large tent. He had just finished up another set of dailies and had been tasked by his new bride to take care of the mail. Kicking at the dirt path, he glanced longingly towards the coliseum that towered over him on the tournament grounds.

Having been recently completed, the coliseum was a hive of activity with busy bees buzzing in and out of the massive structure, going about their business as if they had been there all along. Fulguralis reminded himself how empty the grounds had been until late, and felt a distant pang of regret that he and his adventurers alliance were not yet prepared to preform in front of the tournament crowd. They still had work to do elsewhere in Ulduar.

Having been reunited with his heart, bound though it may now be, he was nevertheless happy to hear it racing at the visions of glory and adventure glancing at the massive structure brought to mind.

"Someday," he muttered, returning his focus to the approaching mailbox. "Hopefully it's sooner rather than later."

In the days following his marriage to the Paladin, Fuubaar, he had found himself quite busy with the mundane. It seemed that one could not take an extended vacation in Azeroth without accumulating mountains of work upon one's return. It would be a while before this Warlock was back in full action.

The mailbox materialized in front of Fulguralis, and he glanced down at the letter he was carrying. A dab of pink wax had been dripped, pressed, and hardened to close the letter, and he studied the embossing left in the wax. It read: Seal of Light Postage.

"Paladins," he sighed, then shrugged and dropped the letter along with several others like it into the mail slot.

Looking towards the future, Fulguralis tried to puzzle out how he was going to fit his daily chores into his already reduced raiding schedule. Somehow, he knew he also needed to take some time with a few close friends to check on some old dungeons. Rumor had it that activity had picked back up inside, and he could always use the emblems awarded from clearing those cesspools out. Besides, killing stuff was far more fun than preforming "Last Rites" on some dumb dead walruses. Or is that walrusi?

One thing was for sure, next time he was in Dalaran he was going to stop by the gear shops and check out what new wares there were offering, as well as write down a list of gear he needed before he could hope to take on the challenges in the colesium. He knew he needed quite a bit.

He began to mount up with that aim in mind, reminding himself to be sure to stop by home and let Fuubaar know what he was up to. She seemed to get upset when she didn't know if he was safe, and he certainly didn't want to deal with a righteous fury. Demons were one thing, but an angry wife was quite another.

As he was mounting up, two burning blue eyes fixed on his from across the path, momentarily arresting his thoughts. I know that woman, he thought, but couldn't quite place from where. Of course, the eyes gave away that the woman in question was a death knight, but as far as he could remember, Fulguralis hadn't fraternized with any of the undead. In fact, he purposefully tried to steer clear of these new additions to his majesty's regiment of mercenaries if only because he found their unrefined abilities to be somewhat of an annoyance. He also found it vaguely amusing that they attempted to inflict their enemies with diseases. If only they knew how to really corrupt!

He stood motionless in locked gaze with the woman for a moment that seemed to stretch into the abyss. A sad look appeared to run across her face as she broke eye contact and melded into the crowd. I know her, he thought, frustrated by the tantalizing nature of the elusive recognition. He stared for a few more seconds at the spot where she'd been standing before shaking his head and mounting up. Kicking his heels into the sides of the dragon, the beast thrust it's muscled wings downwards, stirring up the dust on the dry dirt path and launching animal and rider into the dreary sky that hung ominously above the grounds.

Fulguralis adjusted his hood as the chill air rushed across his face, stinging his exposed skin. Suppressing a shiver, he thought of the warm arms waiting for him at home and smiled.


  1. Ohoh, who's this other woman?

  2. Don't worry... I'm not going to go all Melrose Place on you guys. ;-)