“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.
