Izzi’s Views

Izzi sat in the back of the bar, in the curtained, private room usually reserved for liaisons. The barman had smirked at her when she paid for the room, and Izzi knew he thought it was for the usual purposes. She smiled sweetly at him. Better he think that, than to suspect it was a business meeting of another sort. The fact that she was meeting another woman didn’t matter: such things were common in that line of work.

She bit her nails as she waited. A tray of fruits, a carafe of wine and two goblets had been delivered – standard supplies for the room. Izzi had nibbled at a piece of fruit, but couldn’t make herself swallow it. Nail chewing had followed, her stomach in knots. This had seemed like such a simple assignment. Give the elf his orders, listen to his findings, and then report back to her. But the whole thing had felt…. off. A shiver ran down her spine, and she looked up to see the tall woman standing in front of her. Izzi had never met another human woman as tall as Bjorke. She was as tall as most human males Izzi knew. Not that Izzi knew many humans at all, but still.

Izzi scrambled to her feet, nearly tipping over the wine. Bjorke scowled at the elf, wondering why she had entrusted such a mission to the young woman. Clothing was one thing, and Izzi was excellent at finding vendors and rare goods, but information was an entirely different sort of business, requiring a great deal of finesse.

Bowing low, Izzi greeted Bjorke. “Good day, my lady. It is a pleasure to see you.” Bjorke smiled slightly. Perhaps this would turn out well, after all. She had noticed the eavesdropping barman, and wondered if Izzi had as well. But clearly, the elf was prepared.

Bjorke bowed in return. “This is a lovely room.” From the corner of her eye, she saw the barman smirk, then head back downstairs. Just in case he decided to return, Bjorke sat on the velvet settee, spreading out the gold dress carefully, and patted the space next to her. Izzi sat as directed. If they kept their voices low, it would appear to be nothing more than the prelude to the type of transaction normally done is this room.

“What did you discover?” Even in whisper, Bjorke’s voice conveyed urgency.

Izzi swallowed hard, choosing her words carefully. Shooting the messenger who delivers bad news was not outside the realm of possibility. “The contact said the Shaman does, indeed, create tattoos from Ley Line magicks. He has been taught how to do so, and has created other such tattoos.”  

Taking the small elf’s hand in her own, as if moving the liaison forward, Bjorke squeezed it just hard enough to convey she wanted more information. The color drained from Izzi’s face, as she remembered stories of a young girl, tortured and killed, supposedly by Bjorke herself. Would it be better to tell her of the dangers? Or would that anger her more? Yelping as the pressure on her hand increased, Izzi realized Bjorke knew she was holding back. “Tell me,” she whispered harshly.

“He… ah!… he…. said… the magicks… could be destroyed by greater magics… or.. used against you….” Izzi’s voice squeaked in fear and pain. “But I don’t know more! He didn’t tell me more!”

Releasing the woman’s hand, Bjorke frowned. “Used against me?” Her forehead furrowed. “Is he planning something?” She spoke quietly, but more to herself than to Izzi.

“I… I don’t know. Mi… um… the contact said the Shaman seemed quite open about his gifts, almost bragging.” Izzi rubbed her bruised hand, trying not to cry as she watched the woman. “That’s all I know… I swear.”

Bjorke looked up, as if just noticing the small creature beside her. She nodded, and waved her off in dismissal. “I’ll be in touch. You work on that next shipment, understood?” Izzi nodded quickly, and scurried out of the room. She didn’t look at the barman, and hurried back to Orgrimmar, to meet a supplier.

Mithran Islean Begrussen. Izzi looked at the name on the piece of paper Bjorke had given her. She giggled a bit, thinking it a bit pompous. But who was she to judge? All she had to do was give him instructions on how to do the job. The elf arrived at precisely the appointed time.

“I trust I am in the right location?” His voice was smooth and silky.

“Good. You know how to follow directions.”

He bowed low in greeting. Izzi couldn’t help but notice his long, shiny hair fall forward over his shoulders. She cleared her throat, and forced her mind to get back on track. “I hear you know how to find things out. Is this true?”

Mithran shrugged nonchalantly. “Some say I do.” He grinned, full of confidence, and Izzi felt her stomach flip flop.

“There is an Orc, a Shaman. He claims he can cast protection spells, permanent ones, in the form of tattoos. My boss needs to know if he really can do as he says.”

His eyebrow raised in surprise. “A form of magicks I have not heard of before. Interesting.”

She nodded. “He also needs to know that he’s being looked into, as it were. My boss has many friends, and it would not go well for him, if he was unable to do as he promised.” She tried hard to make her face look serious, but was not used to this line of work. It was much simpler to use her wiles to get what she needed.

“And just is this Orc, who may discover himself very unlucky?”

Izzi checked her paper. “Akaga Warsong. Oh, and he has a family – a wife, and a baby on the way. You may find that to b useful information.” Her stomach churned at the thought of using a man’s family against him. But she had her orders, as well.

The elf pulled a golden rod from a pocket in his tabard, and used to scribe the name on his arm, in letters of light. “Got it.”

She tossed a heavy leather pouch at him. “Half now, half when you report back to me.”

Opening the pouch, he grinned at the contents. “Sounds fair.” He bowed again, and headed out.

Izzi shivered, trying to shed the feeling of dread that overcame her. She much preferred the import/export business to this type of work. “Come on, Leo. Let’s get back to work.”

“Sir, would you be able to meet with me this evening? I some news for you.” Izzi kept her back to the elegantly dressed Forsaken man, and her voice low, knowing the public square was not the place for private talks.

“I’ll contact you later.”

Izzi turned away from the mailbox, nodding slightly as she passed him.

Private jobs such as this were highly lucrative. The rewards included information and leverage, which were far more valuable than mere gold.

In the mail had been the leather pants, boots and swords her contact in Booty Bay had sent. Izzi did not know who his contacts were, but they were good: items not readily available, and others at excellent prices, even with the added costs involved with delivery. Izzi headed for the Inn and tried on the new gear. She admired herself in the mirror. The leatherwork was exquisite – the fit was perfect, with details to catch the eye in all the right places. The two swords were well-balanced, with keen edges, and handles inset with matched pearls. She stowed her gear, looking forward to trying it out, perhaps with Bar. Izzi loved hunting with him. He was brave, and handsome; his skills with a bow were amazing to watch. Then, of course, was Waylon. Waylon and Izzi’s wolf, Mongo, could be brothers, with Waylon just a bit larger. The two animals fought together as if they had always been a team.

But first, Izzi needed to visit her trainer. She left the Inn, and headed down the Bazaar. Realizing she was headed the wrong direction, she turned around. No, that wasn’t right either! This city was so confusing! Not at all like the logical layout of Undercity! She sighed in frustration, then heard a slight chuckle from behind her. Izzi turned to find a tall, handsome blonde Blood Elf grinning at her.

“Having some trouble, dearie?”

Izzi smiled at the man. “Well, I seem to be lost… again. I am looking for the hunter trainers.”

He bowed, introducing himself. “Tiavelli, at your service.” A quick glance at his clothes said that he cared about his appearance, but didn’t seem to spend all his money on it.

Izzi bowed low, knowing it showed off her best assets. “I am Izzi.” As he led her to Farstrider’s Square, he kept glancing over at her, obviously enjoying the view. When he wasn’t looking at her, Izzi was looking at him. Trim and athletically built, he seemed very light on his feet, sure of his own movements. And either he was very lucky, or he spent a great deal of time looking for just the right pants to accentuate the positive. Izzi found herself grinning, wondering just what else they had in common.

“And, here we are, Izzi.” He bowed, then stepped forward quickly, and kissed her. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, before Izzi could even protest! She stood there, as if rooted to the spot, her fingers on her lips where he had kissed her, as a strange warmth flowed through her body.

“Ooooo! How strong you are! No wonder your guild mates rely on you so much!” Izzi stroked the large orc’s arm, feeling his muscle as he flexed for her.

“Heh, heh. Ya.”

A quick appraisal of his armor had told her he was well-geared, his weapons among the finest available, so he was an obvious target for her. Large men often had large egos to match, and Guntarr was no exception. She had run into him in the Bazaar, literally. Izzi had noticed him several times, and had heard that his guild was large and powerful. So, when she had seen him that evening headed for the Auction House, she calculated her route, and took off running towards him. She looked back over her shoulder as she headed directly for him, and slammed into his immense, plate-clad chest.

“Oof!” she had grunted as the impact sent her backwards to the ground. “That’s going to leave a mark,” she thought to herself.

The orc grinned down at her.

“Help! There’s someone chasing me!” Izzi jumped up and clasped his forearms, her eyes wild, twisting her head this way and that, looking for a pursuer. His expression changed instantly, his eyes narrowed, his jaw hardened, as he scanned the area for signs of trouble. The fighter instinct took over, just as Izzi knew it would. That, combined with a damsel in distress right in his arms, ensured an almost instant bond.

“I see no one.” He continued to look around carefully, and moved Izzi to one side, drawing his axe.

“Oh, thank you! I think you must have scared him off!” Izzi licked her lips, and tilted her head, smiling up at the huge green orc.

As the adrenaline ebbed from him, he took another look at the slim woman who had her arms wrapped around his own arm, pressing her body against his. He smiled at her. “Guntarr.”

Izzi was puzzled at this, thinking it was an orcish word she didn’t understand, then she realized he was introducing himself. She unwrapped herself, stepped back and bowed low, knowing it showed off her best assets. “I am Izzi. Thank you so much, Guntarr! You are so brave!”

His chest puffed up visibly, and he pulled himself up to his full height. “Drink?” An orc of few words, he offered his arm to her. Izzi kept her eyes on his face, and smiled sweetly, taking his arm. A few drinks later, Izzi knew how many were in his guild, their strengths, their weaknesses and the names of the Officers. Not bad considering how little the warrior spoke.

Now he was showing off. The Inn was full, with several of his rivals across the room. Izzi had seen the looks the other men had given Guntarr when they saw him with her, and used it to her advantage, discreetly calling his attention to the other men from another powerful guild. She leaned close when she spoke to him, giggled at everything he said. When Guntarr headed for the bar to fetch more drinks, Izzi caught the eye of the troll across the room, and winked at him, biting her lip. It was enough. The troll crossed the room in a few long strides, taking her hand and kissing it. The timing could not have been better. Guntarr returned to see a shocked look on Izzi’s face, and the troll practically drooling over her. He dropped the tankards and shoved the troll, sending him across the room.

The bouncers were on them instantly, demanding they take it outside. Izzi looked from Guntarr to the troll, and back again, winking at the orc, nodding slightly.

“Outside. Fight.” The challenge offered, and the troll accepted. Izzi trotted after them, eager to see them in action. It was a fierce duel, both men nearly spent by the time the orc sent a final blow to the troll, defeating him. The fight had allowed her to assess the skills of both men, as well as the gear of the troll. When his guild mates called out encouragement to Rootan, she committed the name to memory, knowing he would be next on her list.

Izzi knew that warriors liked to celebrate after a successful duel, and she had no desire to be the lucky trophy. She slipped away before Guntarr shook off the battle wooziness and turned to look for her. She sent a quick note to Lord Keland, asking for a meeting, and stayed out of sight until it was safe for her to return outside and get some sleep.

Izzi sighed. This man was proving most frustrating. Jealous, vain, impatient, and as demanding of attention as any spoiled child. Yes, that’s exactly what he was! A spoiled child! She whispered to her friend, Bar, that she would speak with him tomorrow, and ran after Calin’ash. She, Izzi Vuolu, chasing after a man! This had better be worth it!

When she caught up to him, he was lounging on a low couch, his back to the door. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. Checking her appearance, smoothing her dress and hair, she moved to the end of the couch and sat down, just close enough so he could feel her presence without actually touching him.

“So, you’ve decided you can make time in your busy schedule for me?” He didn’t roll over as he spoke, his voice petulant.

“I am sorry, Lord Calin’ash. I had asked him not to disturb me, but he insisted. What could I do?” She kept her voice soft, her tone apologetic.

“Huh. And now? Will you be disturbed again? Is your attention to be drawn away again?”

She didn’t dare roll her eyes again, lest it be noticed. “We will not be disturbed. I am here, with you.” Izzi gently placed a hand on his lower leg, a gesture of supplication, but not too intimate. Can’t have him getting ahead of her plans.

Calin’ash rolled to his back, looking up at her with deep, languid eyes, dark with passion. He took her hand from his leg, and kissed her palm, never taking his eyes off hers. Izzi lowered her eyelids slightly, and licked her lips. His grip on her hand tightened slightly, as the effect she hoped for took hold. She caressed his cheek with her hand.

“Shall I tell you a story, my lord?” It had become almost a ritual to their meetings. She would tell him a story, usually a tale of grand adventure that she claimed was true, and he would listen, and occasionally try to make advances on her. Izzi’s ability to spin a tale was only outperformed by her ability to fend off his hands.

He nodded and grinned, then sat up and shifted on the couch so his head was in her lap. Izzi stroked his hair, and started telling of a trek through the foothills of Hillsbrad, to meet with an ancient Forsaken apothecary who had promised to give her a beautiful dress.

Two hours later, she was finishing up her stories, and Calin’ash was yawning. Her tales had grown less adventurous and longer as the night had worn on, a calculated move on her part. She stroked his head, and began humming a quiet tune, and within minutes, he was asleep. She waited until he was snoring, then gently moved his head, and slipped away.

She headed outside, to sleep under the stars, as usual. Izzi folded her dress carefully, and put it in her bag, yawning herself. She had never had to work so hard for a job! Lord Keland Wraithenblood had better appreciate her efforts! Whistling for Mongo, Izzi settled down for a well-earned sleep, snuggled up next to her faithful wolf.

“You are most kind, Sir.” Izzi smiled at the Forsaken man who was showing her around. “This city is fascinating! I’ve never seen anything like it!” She looked around at the green canals, the carved stonework, the maze of bridges, and the slow parade of all the people as they made their way around conducting their business.

He grinned at her, amazed at his luck. A pretty girl hanging on his arm, smiling at him, enjoying his company.

“Oooo! What’s that?” Izzi pointed over at the entrance to the Apothecarium.

Belloq was wise enough to realize she did not really want to see what lay down that corridor, lest she lose her desire to be with a Forsaken man. “Oh, nothing interesting. Just some storage rooms. Come, let me buy you some food.” He gently led her to the innkeeper. Izzi looked around as they walked, amazed by all the sites. Belloq smiled at her. “My dear, you are lovely.” His eyes roamed over her form as she craned her neck to see more of the city.

“Oh, thank you, Sir. You are very sweet.” She turned to him and smiled, her eyes twinkling. She had carefully chosen this dress for sightseeing, knowing it would be easy to find an escort if she highlighted her best features. It was low-cut, and gaped open just a smidge when she bowed low, or leaned forward. Not much, just enough to raise interest. She had worked with the tailor for hours, to get it exactly right.

“Please, call me Belloq. You have not used my name once since I introduced myself.” His brow furrowed, but the twinkle in his eye told Izzi he was teasing her.

“My apologies.” Izzi bowed low before him. “You are very sweet, Belloq.” She let her tongue linger over the sounds of his voice, stretching it out: Belllll – ock, leaving her lower lip slightly pouty as she closed her mouth.

They made their way back to the canals, and Izzi nibbled her morel that Belloq had given her to try. It looked dry, but was chewy, with a smokey sort of flavor. She enjoyed the taste, and she was hungry, but knew that nibbling was the way to eat in front of a man. Belloq stopped in front of a man selling his wares. Several pieces of jewelry caught Izzi’s eye and her face lit up. “Ooo! Pretty!” She moved forward for a closer look, Belloq right behind her. Her fingers danced over each piece, making appraisals and assessments in the blink of an eye. She stopped over a Malachite pendant. Picking it up, she held it up to her neck, letting the green gem dangle down. Turning to Belloq, she tilted her head and asked, “How does it look?”

His eyes on the gem sparkling on her skin, he smiled broadly. “It’s beautiful on you, Izzi. Would you like it?”

Izzi’s face held surprise, her mouth forming “Oh….” And she let the gem drop just a bit lower. Belloq paid the vendor, and took the necklace from her, his fingers brushing against her skin. “Turn around and I’ll put it on you.” She turned as instructed, lifting up her hair, showing off her long, graceful neck. Belloq’s fingers trembled as he fumbled with the clasp, and Izzi waited patiently. “There,” he said finally, and Izzi turned to face him, her hair still held up in her hands. The green gem nestled in the valley of her breasts, glinting even in the dim light of Undercity.

“You are beautiful,” he said to her, his voice turning husky.

“Oh, Belloq! You really are too kind! How can I ever thank you?” Izzi placed her hands on his chest, and leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the cheek. She took his arm again. “Let’s keep exploring! I love it here!” Belloq showed her the Rogue Quarter, and the Magic Quarter, and then down the corridor to the War Quarter. He introduced her to the various Battlemasters, then pointed out Lady Sylvanas Windrunner. Izzi had heard all about this great leader from her mother, and was delighted to actually see her.

As they headed back to the elevators, Belloq turned to Izzi, his face distressed. “What’s wrong, Belloq?” Izzi placed her hand on his bony chest, and moved closer to him, biting her lip.

“I am terribly sorry, my dear. But I must return to my work. I deeply regret that I must leave you now.” His voice was deep and husky, nearly trembling with emotion.

Izzi pouted slightly. “I understand, Belloq. We all have work that needs to be done.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek. “I hope I will see you again.”

“Oh, yes!” She said, her face brightening. “I would like that very much!”

He stepped onto the elevator slowly, not wanting to leave. Izzi stood, smiling, and waved just before the door closed. Then she skipped off to find the robe vendor they had passed earlier.