Izzi’s Views

“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.