Anna, over at Too Many Annas, offered something different for her usual Friday Five. Normally she proposes five questions for you to answer about your character(s). This week, it's the Friday 500, a challenge to write 500 words in relation to your character on a given topic. The topic of this first week is:
Someone is walking through a back alley in a Major City, and they are mugged. What happens to them? What happens to the mugger?So, without further ado, I present to you, my gentle snowflakes, my entry for the Friday 500...
The vast expanse of the Stormwind docks were a far cry from the utilitarian structures of the same name Iriandra Trellen had seen at Auberdine and Azuremyst Isle. Ferocious lion statues glared balefully out to sea, almost daring one of Stormwind’s many enemies to try to attack by sea. If the statues were not enough, certainly the cannon and massive ballista were.
The young priestess knew she should pay more attention to where she was going, but there was just so much to see! Stormwind was so very different from the close halls of the Exodar or the wide open spaces of Darnassus. To Iriandra’s wondering eyes, the high stone walls of Stormwind reminded her very much of the strong, defiant spirit of the humans she had met in her travels so far.
Without realizing it, Iriandra found she had stopped walking, gawking up at one of the massive lion statues. Glancing around sheepishly, especially surrounded by the rapid pace of longshoremen and dockworkers around her, she started forward again only to draw up short lest she run over the gangly teen with a shock of white-blonde hair that very nearly popped up in front of her.
“Carry yer bags fer ya, miss?” he asked with a bright smile.
Iriandra smiled at the open eagerness in his face and voice and nodded, “Yes, thank you, child,” she pushed a dark lock of hair behind one of her curling horns and easily swung the satchel from her shoulder into his waiting hands. His smile faltered slightly and he stifled a grunt as the heavy satchel landed in his arms.
“I kin guide yer where yer goin’, too, miss,” the young man said, settling the priestess’ bag on his own shoulder.
“I seek the Cathedral of Light, do you know it?” she said with all due reverence.
“Like the back o’ me own ‘and. Follow me, priestess!” he replied and hurried off toward the Canal district, forcing Iriandra to lift the hem of her robes and nearly run to keep up.
After barely three turns, Iriandra was so thoroughly lost she would have required a map and a compass to find her way. Still, even new to the city and a little on the naïve side, she knew enough to draw up short when she saw her erstwhile guide bound into a dark alley. Too late, she realized she’d been had. Angry at herself for being so easily duped, she turned to try to find her way back, only to see the white-blonde youth and an older, darker man blocking her way.
“We’ve got yer bag, now givvus yer coin and we’ll let yer walk away, goat,” the dark man growled.
Fury flashed in Iriandra’s pale blue eyes as she spoke two words that sent both men to their knees, doubled over in pain. She plucked her satchel from where the younger man had dropped it and stepped over the writhing men.
“The next time you think to rob a priestess of the Light, you would do well to remember that the Light also casts a shadow,” she sneered as she walked away, her tail flicking back and forth angrily.