Wildfire Riders

The lady known as The Dragon (a nickname she found far more amusing before all that the Lady Onyxia nonsense had turned the ton upside down last year) flipped her paper open and laid it upon the table. She reached for her teacup as she scanned the columns, perusing the headlines, Lady Edderton's Social report, and the Current Events calendar. When she reached the last section, the Editorials, her fingers began to drum in a steady rhythm - pinky to thumb, thumb to pinky and back again, over and over - upon her tabletop. In her estimation, the editorials were the heartbeat of the city. Everyone believed their voices ought to be heard. Lady Lydriessa Arianna Josephine Marie Boleyn of House Westenheart disagreed. Strongly. There'd been a lot of ruckus from the lower classes about death knights and their worth to the Stormwind cause. The King had pardoned them, after all, and the uneducated, unwashed masses would hang on their liege's words.

Dogs, she thought unkindly. Standing at their master's table, waiting for a scrap to sustain them, willing to accept anything He offers.

Her lip curled into an unattractive sneer just as her eyes found the Editorial of the Day.

Lords and Ladies, Sirs and Madames, Misters and Misses!

It is time for us to remove ourselves from the past and to think beyond the box. The world is changing. Our alliances are stronger than ever before as our cause in the north becomes clearer. I am a dutiful citizen, just like yourselves, and I am calling for a new outlook to go with our new world. We need to be more progressive, to embrace change else we fall beneath the weight of our history. Inactivity is the bane of the year and prejudice is its ugly mistress! To those who slight the Ebon Blade, to those who slight the goblins and the Tuskarr, to those who feel they are above accepting the help of those foreign to us, I say do not let your pride, do not let your fear of the new ages make you a fool. We must stand united - all of us - to defeat the last Menethil's curse. Skin color, caste, pulse . . . these are not ways to measure a man.

Unity! Acceptance! Progression!

Here, here Stormwind!

- A Concerned Youth

Lydriessa snapped the newspaper closed and thrust it aside. Esme, the house's primary maid, rushed over to gather it from the floor, bowing deeply to her employer.

"My lady?"

"Send me my daughter. Now, Esme. And . . . give me that paper back. I'm going to need it."

"Of course, Madame."

Lydriessa watched her go, her fingers drumming even faster than before.

*****

Boleyn smoothed her gown as she approached Mother's private library. She checked her hair in the hallway mirror, made sure everything was in place with no fly-aways, before rapping her knuckles against the door.

"Get in here, Girl."

"Yes Ma'am."

Rain stepped inside and bowed her head to her lady mother, dropping into the perfect curtsy. She would maintain the position until she was given leave to move, as manners dictated. There was silence from the other side of the desk. Her knees began to wobble as she tried to keep stance. Mother knew of the strain it was causing but she allowed it to continue nonetheless. There was the tap tap tap of her lacquered fingernails on the desktop. One minute, and then two, stuck in the deep curtsy until Rain's legs began to ache. By the third minute, she was trembling all over.

Oh dear, she's quite angry.

"Take your gloves off," Lydriessa finally snapped.

Boleyn peered up at her, blinking owlishly. She rose to standing, thankful - at least - to not have to stoop any longer. "But I thought you disliked what Miss Chloe did to my nails, cutting them short, Mother. I wore the gloves to spare you."

"I said take your gloves off. And come here."

Boleyn rolled the white cloth from her hands, approaching the desk with dread rising in her chest. Her mother snatched her hand into her own, turning it one way and then the other. On the third finger of the left hand, she found what she was looking for.

"THERE," she said, pointing at a small, dark spot on the side of Rain's index. "What is that?"

"Oh. Ink, Ma'am. I thought I'd scrubbed it all off."

"Of course you did."

Lydriessa flipped the Stormwind Dailies over, slapping her palm against the day's most prominent editorial. "Did you think I wouldn't recognize you? Progression? It's all you ever blather on about these days."

Boleyn's eyes flicked to the paper, a blush rising in her cheeks. She thought she'd been careful enough, but apparently she'd been wrong. She'd underestimated her mother's shrewdness. Again.

"I will not have this, Arianna. I simply won't. You are this close to being betrothed to one of the richest lordlings in all of Stormwind and you're attempting to stage a coup with your pen. You KNOW as well as I do that the Ebon Blade will never be accepted here as long as the nobles have say. You know I've been working AGAINST legalizing them, and yet . . . yet you have the bloody audacity to . . . " Lydriessa was turning a mottled shade of purple, and her anger was strangling the words right out of her. "I simply don't know what to do with you!"

"But they do good work, Mother, and I thought . . . "

"You thought? You thought! Your father positively ruined you, may he rot for it. Your job isn't to think. Your job, you stupid girl, is to nod your head, produce heirs for Harisham, drink tea, play bridge, and attend parties. Do you see any thinking in this equation? Light all mighty. Do you want me to get your BROTHER to talk to you about your proper place?"

"No!" Rain recoiled, snatching her hand away. "And I . . . Mother, I've told you I don't like Lord Harisham. He smells of onions and we'd make ugly children."

"Ugly . . . " Lydriessa made a choking noise. "They may be ugly Rain, but they're ugly and blooded. This isn't your choice."

"But Father said I could choose my husband! Vadras can choose his WIFE, you said so! Why do I have to be stuck with someone so . . . so handsy."

"May I remind you, Rain Droplet, your idiot Father also ran out onto the steps of the manor with a sword some months ago and was promptly ripped apart by ghouls. He didn't have the best ideas, now did he?"

"MOTHER!"

"Yes, the truth is awful isn't it." Lydriessa stood to her imposing six foot height, staring down her nose at her youngest child. "And here is one more awful truth for you - you will marry Harisham. You will do your duty to your family, and you will not embarass me again. I don't know what you think you're doing in that Abbey of yours, but I swear by the blood in these veins, your days there are numbered. I will not tolerate an impertinent miss in my household."

Rain's entire body went rigid, heat climbing her neck and ears. "I do good work there, though, Mother. I've been learning and progressing, and . . . "

"Progressing?" Lydriessa snorted. "Well, we'll have to stop that now, won't we. Progression seems to be the problem." Lydriessa rolled the newspaper up and thrust it at Rain's middle. Rain instinctively grabbed for it before it dropped to the floor. "You have one week to give them your regrets. And if you don't." Lady Boleyn stopped in the doorway of her library. "If you don't, see how far my coin will travel, Girl. You are a Boleyn, you are a Westenheart. You will not shame us. I won't allow it."

"But . . ."

"I will NOT allow it. Good day Arianna."

Dinner, two days later.

Rain dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin, keeping her eyes on the pristine white tablecloth. Her mother and Vadras chatted about his last hunt, about the size of the stag he'd felled and the antlers that would hang above the mantle. She was quite content being ignored, but then fate saw fit to send her mother's attention upon her, and she could feel the weight of the maternal gaze.

"Arianna, your brother has a fox hunt planned for this weekend. Lord Harisham will be attending, as will we and the rest of the good families. You'll have to cancel your playdates in the Abbey."

"They're not playdates, Mother. I'm defeating enemies of Stormwind."

"How cute!" Vadras exclaimed, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. "You're such a little upstart, Rain. Get it out of your system now, I say. You won't be playing in armor when you're carrying your first babe. Perhaps after two or three tots Harisham will allow you to run about. Good exercise. Children could get you rather fat."

Rain just blinked at him. "They're pregnant, not FAT. There's a marked difference, Sir."

Lydriessa clanked her fork against her plate. "Your sister is turning out to be a chip right off of your father's block. She has this little notebook with a list of things she's vanquished. Dragons, gnolls, murlocs . . ."

"Feh. It's harmless. She's not even left Redridge. What can honestly hurt her there?"

It wasn't the answer Lydriessa wanted, and her brows knit together. She peered across the table at her daughter, feeling her ire rising. Rain wasn't even looking at her, and somehow, that made it worse. "So what was your teacher's name again, Dear? Miss . . . Sunstruck or something?"

"Lady Varenna Sungale," Rain murmured.

"Excellent. Society Tea, Thursday."

Rain's stomach clenched. "Pardons?"

"Invite her! I wish to meet this paragon of the light. Is she blooded?"

"I . . . no, I don't think so, but she's very capable."

"Is she a looker? Lady Colton's getting to be a bore." Vadras poured himself another glass of wine. "I'm afraid she's going to smother her husband over me. Like I'd choose her for House Westenheart. Muckbloods. Honestly."

'Muckbloods' was the less-than-endearing name her mother had penned for rich merchants marrying into old families for titles. They quite literally purchased their pedigrees. The truebloods took their gold, all the while sneering at them for selling themselves for respectability.

Rain found it odd that the nobility found taking the money less reprehensible than offering it.

"She's quite pretty, but I doubt she's mistress material."

"Oh?" Vadras's smile faded. "Why is that?"

Oh no. Don't insult him. Think, Rain, think! Poor Miss Varenna . . .

She lifted her nose, flitting her fingers in a graceful arc as she'd seen her mother do so many times before when she was dismissing someone beneath her. "Socially inept. You'd not want to be seen with her considering how /awkward/ she is."

"Ahhh. Pity, though I'd overlook it if she's that pretty. She doesn't have to be proper in the dark."

"VADRAS!" Lydriessa laughed, lighting tapping her son's arm with her napkin. "You're so wicked. But! That doesn't change things. I wish to meet your tutor, Arianna. Make it happen."

"I . . " There was no arguing that particular look. The set of the jaw, the glitter in the eyes . . . challenging it just meant trouble. "Yes Ma'am."

"Excellent. I quite look forward to this."

Lady Boleyn's wolfish grin was disconcerting.

'Ow Tae Skin a Harisham



"Anna, gal. I need a favor..."

"Oi, Lanna, I need Ambry for a bit..."

"Aye, kin ya be 'at the Cathedral fountain in th'morn with a small audience?"

"I need Ambry t'cover a small performance by Anna t'morra at th' Cathedral fountain."

"Do ya know, "The Poncy Git Who Couldn'ae Get It?"

"Th'Gazette will love 'is wan."

"Thanks, kit, I'll toss ya some crowns inna mail."

"Thanks, kit, I'll toss ya some crowns inna mail."

.....

As usual during the weekends, the Bottomless Flagon was rocking amidst the port of Booty Bay as if a hurricane were tossing it about. Revilgaz never much cared for it, as it took away business from his own place - but the taxes paid was more than well enough to keep his goons at bay. Well, that and small detail of Hardestadt Steelgrip being the Flagon's admiral was enough to make even the boldest of greenskins pale with fear.

Funny thought then, that the pirate lord known for crushing the skulls of opposing admirals in the palm of his hand (literally) also doubled as the bartender, and tripled as the bouncer of his "party barge".

"Gimme all yair shite, ya wee lit'l fik." The rough-and-tumble "Black Dog" accent of Isi Underhill squawked in Hardestadt's ear as the rogue lept onto his wide back, clinging for dear life.

The middle-aged vet blinked, reached over his shoulder, and in a single, effortless motion, drug Isi by the collar of her leathers over his head and flopped her down on the bar in front of him, grinning.

"Ah've got wee bastards out 'ere wit' laigs bigger'an yair tight-arsed form, kid. " He challenged in a gruff voice as the feigned unimpressed Scarlet Fox. "Me dotter would crush yeh wit' 'er thumb."

Isi slowly nodded and leaned back, resting her hands on the bartop as suddenly, the giant pirate's eyes shot open wide. "An' I kin 'at I could make sure ya ain't ever makin' anather bastard, aye?"

Hardestadt glanced down at the boot resting between his legs and frowned, brow perking. "Bladed boots? Who th'frack uses 'at shite anymore?"

"Reckon 'at I do, big bae."

The two shared a loud laugh together, and Hardestadt gave her a friendly slap on the cheek. Isi groaned and cleared the cobwebs with a shake of her head before sticking a finger in the middle of the Lord Steelgrip's chest. "I needa borrah Rochev for the night. I'll pay 'em good."

"Meh, last time ya borrahed th' fekker, I 'ad ta pay a ransom t'get 'em free."

"Truth be'told, he's gonna get arrested in Starmwin'." Isi just grinned.

"Light dammit, I like 'avin' Rochev aboard!"

"Ah'll make it up to ya."

Steelgrip grinned wide. "Gonna stay th'night, aye?"

"Fekkat, ya big-arsed ape. Ah lifted th' Menethil shippin' schedule. Kin 'ave ya a field day."

Hardestadt frowned, eyed Isi up and down, protested - eyed the rogue up and down - and then grinned as in some alternate cartoon universe, dollar signed slot-machine rolled into his eyes. "Deal. Oi, Rochev - get yair dimwitted arse over 'ere!"

Being the contortionist she is, Isi grinned and let her head fall back, viewing the approaching, one-eyed, toothless orc from an upside-down angle.

.....

Yards of slinky, green silk hugged firmly to every curve of the young rogue's form as she strolled across the main hall of the Silver Feather, two glasses in hand. Those who knew her might not have been as impressed by the physique of the woman, so much as shocked at how easily she could shed the Black Dog stench from her actions.

Isi Underhill never dressed up like this without a reason - and tonight, she was on a mission. Briskly, she slipped past a staring Genise, who left the rogue with a whispered, "Dammit, you better behave!" across the wind. She grinned, and winked the one eye not hidden behind coal-dyed locks and continued on her way to a booth at the back of the room.

"Laird Harshim?" The Hexblade called out in a soft, eductaed voice of Lordaeron accent, smiling down at the plump, disgusting noble of a man.

The noble man blinked his half-masked eyes and turned them to glance at Isi - and paused to give her a very full glance. This was a new one he'd never seen before! "Why, yes... Yes I am, madame."

"I just knew it was." She responded in a flirty tone, smiling sweetly. "Nae a single man in this city who stands out as much as you do. I'm Loretta Pearson, formely Lady Pearson O' Lordaeron."

"Oh, truly?" His one visible brow perked with interest and he turned to give her his attention; settling his hand bearing the family signet on the table beside him.

"Yes, m'laird. I saw you sitting here alone, and couldn't let such a crime go unpunished - so I thought I would bring you a drink and ask to join you..."

He slid his arm across the back of the booth seat invitingly, and wet his lips with a slimy flick of the tongue. "So I see. Please do join me, Miss Pearson..."

Isi nearly hesitated, but managed to slide herself into the booth, pressing one of the drinks in hand close to the Noble Lord's lips...

......

"Ooooooooooogh...."

"Nnngh...."

Lord Harisham groaned and squirmed as he came to, eyes squinted shut against both the piercing pain in his head, as well as the faint trickle of water upon his face.

There was a gasp of shock, many whispers, and a small outburst of laughter...

What had happened last night? All he really remembered was the gorgeous Northern lass handing him a drink...

There was a faint grunt, and loud snoring in his ear. He blinked and tried to sit up, only to find himself pinned down by a massive weight.

Was it Lady Pearson? Did he bring her home with him last night? Light-be-damned if he had no memory of conquering such a prize!

That snore was awfully deep in tone though...

Finally, he let his eyes flutter open; and he was not, in fact, in his own home. There was sunlight beating down upon him, and water trickling. He glanced aside, and then double-taked back, to see a young, blonde bard and a small crowd of folks staring in astonishment. Off to the side was a kaldorei lass, hair a disgustingly bright shade of pink - and she was drawing... Was that Ambry Nightbreeze of the Stormwind Gazette?

He began to panic - but he truly had no idea.

Once again, he attempted to sit up, only to be met by a grunt and a cut-off snore. Eyes widening, he slowly turned his gaze to said weight, and sucked in a deep breath.

Rochev's eyes wearily blinked open - half his orcish mug covered in a silver mask.

Harisham blinked rapidly - they were both naked!

Rochev blinked rapidly - he was going to kill Underhill!

Harisham exhaled sharply, and sucked in a deep breath...

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Rochev cringed and went wide-eyed...

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

And off in the corner of his eye as he screamed - that tiny little woman slowly slinked away - not bothering one bit to look back upon the commotion.

They had fought their way through the droves of Defias and at last stood atop the enormous boat. Vadras faced Edwin Vancleef, the leader of the Defias, the group who directly opposed the nobles for their failure to pay for the rebuilding of Stormwind.

Rain stood behind her brother, leaning on her mace.

"Edwin Vancleef, I Vadras Joseph Boleyn the Third do challenge you to single honorable combat, do you accept?"

Rain's hand hit her face. She looked through her fingers at her brother.

Vancleef considered the boy with his one good eye and spoke behind his mask. "Single honorable combat? I shouldn't give such filth the honor." He looked past Vadras at Rain whom he had seen before. "Month after month I am challenged and bested, what do you have to gain from a beaten man whose cause is almost all but lost?" He sneered behind the mask. "However, if you are so willing to die, I will send your noble filth back to your parents in a bag!" Vancleef lunged at him and at the same moment two others came at him from the shadows.

Vadras dodged and parried the blows, barely able to hold them all back. From behind him, Rain's hammer smashed one of the other men in the face, giving him a rather ugly visage and a caved skull. It came around and swung up into the other man's groin. He promptly curled over onto the wooden planks, his mouth opening but no sound came out.

"Eugh..." Vadras considered the second one for a moment, considering that his fate was probably worse than the first's.

Vadras's swords clanged with Vancleef's. Rain's light magic healed the wounds he had sustained from the sudden triple onslaught.

Vancleef's body fell and the last of Vadras's wounds were healed by Rain's light.

"If I hadn't interjected you'd have died. So don't give me a look. Mother would skin me for that."

Vadras wiped some blood from his chin. "Well, I'm certain you know what to write for the papers. You do that and I will convince mother you are properly courting someone."

"Indeed."

He considered her for a moment. "I challenged him in single combat, and he brought more dogs. You intervening was quite fair enough anyway."

Some Years Back:

”Let’s play hide and seek,” the servant boy had said in a conspirator’s whisper. He tugged on the sleeve of her dress, grunting as she kicked him in the shin. “C’mon! You hide first.”

“But Richard, my lessons!“

“Will still be there in an hour.”

She eyed her open books, and then eyed her friend, her mouth pinched into a thin line. “I really shouldn’t. If I’m caught . . . “

“Then don’t get caught.”

Algebra or hide and seek. Algebra or hide and seek.

“All right, but avoid Mother’s rooms or she’ll be cross.”

“Done,” he said, covering his eyes with his hands. “One, two – get on with you Rain, hide already – three. Four. You’re not mooooving.”

“Oh! Right, right. Hiding.” She dashed from the room, running through the manor halls with her skirts hiked to her knees. Esme pressed herself to the wall, grinning as the lord’s daughter sailed past her, narrowly avoiding a collision with a lamp.

“Careful, Missy!”

“Sorry Esme. Don’t tell Richard where I’m going.”

“I won’t say a thing.”

Rain bypassed the guest rooms and the library, instead ducking into her father’s study. There was a lumbering beast of a leather sofa, and a few arm chairs, but by far the best place to hide was beneath his enormous mahogany desk. She climbed under, drawing her knees to her chest and waiting. She couldn’t hear Richard’s voice as he counted any longer, but it didn’t take that long to count to forty. He'd be searching soon.

One minute, and then two passed.

She heard the click of the door as someone walked inside, and she stayed very still, holding her breath to keep herself from being detected.

“Katherine, come here. Please.”

Her father’s voice, not Richard’s.

Oh no.

She could hear the door shut into place, and she huddled into a tight little ball, suppressing her groan.

Just hide. Keep hiding and maybe he won’t know you’re here.

“My lord.” Kathy – or Katherine as her father had called her – was a pretty kitchen maid they’d hired last summer. She was always nice to Rain, slipping her extra desserts and treats during the day. She was definitely the voice Rain had just heard a moment ago.

“You’re going to ‘my lord’ me now?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“My name.”

“All right. Fine. Yes, Vadras. What can I do for you?”

“You know all things considered you can’t stay here.”

“Yes, you said as much.”

There was along pause, and the sound of people moving around. Rain couldn’t see what was happening, and she was almost thankful for it.

“I’ve gotten you a place in Westfall, near Sentinel Hill. It’s a lovely home.”

“S-so what is this? You’ll just dump me there and never see your child?”

Rain’s eyes went huge.

Is he sending me or Vadras off?

“No! I don’t . . . I love you Kathy. I didn’t invent that to get under your skirts. I’ll visit often, as often as I can. When did the doctor say you’re due?”

Due. Due . . . with a baby? She’s carrying a baby? HIS baby?

“In the spring.”

Another pause, another shuffling of human bodies and clothing as they moved about.

“I don’t regret it. I hope you don’t either. This child . . . it’s one made in love, and I will never regret loving you.”

“You know I feel the same, Vadras, but your lady wife . . .”

“Must never know, and will never know. Not while I live.”

“I understand.”

Noises, murmurs.

What are they . . . they’re kissing! Ew!

“Sir, I have to prepare lunch. Cook will be looking for me.”

“Of course. I’ll get you the details and . . . “ Her father stopped speaking. There was another extended pause before he continued again. “A-and we’ll talk further. Later.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Yes Vadras.”

The door opened and closed again, and Rain kept her eyes tightly closed. Her father sighed from the other side of the desk.

“Come out, Droplet.”

Oh no.

“Arianna, I can see your skirts.”

The dread in her chest felt like it was trying to wrap around her throat and choke her. She climbed out from underneath the desk, her head bowed forward.

“I was playing hide and seek, Sir. I d-d-didn’t mean to spy.”

“I didn’t think you had.”

Rain dared to peek up at him. His hands were folded behind his back, his spine was ramrod straight, but the expression on his face – near panic – belied the surety of his posture.

“Do you know why your mother must not find out about this?”

“No,” she said honestly. “I don’t.”

“Because she’d not allow me to take care of my child. She doesn’t care that I have a mistress, but she would care that there was a bastard.”

“I see.”

“I’m going to ask you to do a very adult thing, Droplet. I’m going to ask you to never tell your mother about this. Can you do that for me?”

“I . . . yes, Father.”

I should feel worse about that, maybe hesitate more, but I do so prefer Father.

“All right, that’s my girl.”

He opened his arms and Rain stepped into them. The top of her head tucked under his chin, and he nuzzled her blond hair.

I’m going to have a brother or a sister. I should be happier about this. But I’m not. I'm scared. Young ladies shouldn't be scared of babies.

(( Vadras just gave Rain a white persian kitten, so I present to you Sungale the Kitten: ))