There was a small tent at the faire, one easily forgotten with all of the attractions at the new isle. Surely, many would pass it by and pay it little regard, what with the array of colorful fireworks exploding outside, and the nearby drumming of the band. The pathway was lined with blue burning torches, surely another indication of its eerie surroundings. However, if one knew the reputation of this little tent, they would know that inside was the temporary residence of a fortune telling seer known all across Azeroth. That pig-headed beast and his crystal ball, who could look into the unknown and read your sign in the stars. As ugly a mug as he had, travelers from each corner of the globe would slip on in to hear his words, perhaps even embarrassed to be seen speaking with someone who may be spouting, "mystical hoo-hah." But for the open minded spirit, a look in the mystic unknown may just be what an individual would need to set themselves on the right path.
What am I doing here?
As the platinum haired elf tilted her head inside the small space, she could pick up some strange aromas. Her nose crinkles; she could smell the incense that had been burning all night, and the somewhat foul stench of the pig-man that it had been trying to cover up. She coughs once, smoke stinging at her eyes as she cautiously ventures inside.
I feel so naked without my armor, in a place like this.
Snort. The elf-woman jumps some, her verdant gaze lowering to catch sight of the robed knoll sitting behind that small table, which was littered with trinkets, and cards. "What brings you here? I'm closed for the night."
"Oh, please, I-..., can't you spare just a moment, kind sir? I worry this is the last opportunity I'll have to visit the faire, and I really need your help. I heard that-"
"Y'heard what, sweetheart? That I can tell you whether or not you're going to get married and have a couple of lil' elfs runnin' around? Unless you want to compensate me, somehow..." The gnoll's gaze lowers slightly. In casual attire, the femme elf wore a tight fitting, dark bodice, which clung to her skin and left little to the imagination. Below her, a long flowing skirt of the same color, which was somewhat sheer above a thicker layer of fabric below. The elf reaches for a pouch at her belt; it was small, but heavy. She sets it on the counter, looking to the pig-man with a determined gaze.
"Please, I-..., I heard you can help people reconnect with the dead." The gnoll redirects his gaze to the pouch, and then to the woman's face. The look of desperation almost seems too much for him. He swiped the pouch up with one swift motion, giving a grunt as he slides up onto his stool behind the desk.
"What's your name, then?" The woman beams, seeming thrilled that the gnoll would help her after all. She takes a seat on the smaller stool in front of her, barely fitting onto it, but somehow able to balance her weight appropriately.
"Liratrix, Sir."
"And who is it you want to connect with?"
"My mother, Sir."
"Typical. And how did she pass?" Liratrix stares at the pig-man intently, her eyes somewhat wide. She parts her lips as if to speak, hesitating before fumbling over her words.
"I..., I don't really..., I don't really know. I was just a young'n, when she was...., killed."
"Death on the battlefield? Suicide? You have to give me some details, sweetheart." The gnoll gives another abrupt snort, as if growing impatient.
"I wasn't there, when it happened. Someone..., killed her. And I don't really know why, but-...., I want to talk to her. I want to -see- her. I'd pay any price! It's..., it's the one thing I long for more than anything!" The elf's gaze was growing rather determined, now. Those jade orbs were slightly narrowed, as she waited, -prayed- for some sort of result to come from her trip to the tent. She watches the gnoll as he stares at her, and then as he closes his eyes.
"Yes..., a murder, then. Tell me, do you have any memories of your mother?"
"Well, sure I-..." Liratrix pauses, seeming to reconsider her words mid-sentence. "...A few. I remember when she used to sing me to sleep, and hold me..., and I remember when she used to dress me up in pretty clothes-..."
"D'ya know who killed her?"
"I do." The gnoll waves a hand over the crystal ball.
Yes! Surely, he can use his magic to allow me to commune with the dead!
"Yes..., you do know who murdered her. But, you haven't confronted her. Why is-..., you're afraid, aren't you? Afraid of the answers?" The silver haired elf shifts uneasily, the light within that mirror ball seeming to flicker and fade in and out.
"No..., I'm not afraid anymore! I want to talk to my mother!"
"Your mother..., yes. I can feel her..., do you know where she is? She's inside you! Inside your soul, she is there!"
"I don't understand..., surely she resides in my memories, but-..."
"You wish to know her?"
"Yes!"
Suddenly, the glow within the orb fades to to a dim light, and then seems to swirl back to its normal, undisturbed state.
"You must confront your mother's killer. You must confront her, and come back to me- with a drop of the murderer's blood, yes! A drop of the killer's blood, a drop of your blood! Do this, and return!"
"I don't know if I can return-..."
"If you return, I will reunite you with your mother. Now get out!" Seeming shaken, Liratrix rises from her stool, knocking it over as she storms out of the small tent as if she were running from a dangerous predator. She runs into the crowd, seeming to blend in and become no more than just another, average faire goer.
What magic could he possibly use? I don't know what I'm doing...
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