Stolen Time

She was screaming, she could feel it ripping at her throat, but she couldn't stop. Flashes of Griff lying beaten and shot in her living room gripped her skull, blood soaking into the cream colored carpet. When she opened her eyes she was sitting up in a tattered bed, luckily no one was there now. No one had heard her. She knew it was all wrong, Griff hadn't been shot in her parent's house. He had been shot in his van, by a Cleric. Filthy Humanis zealots. But it just taunted her that someone else was hurt, maybe dead because she hadn't gotten there sooner.
Peeling herself off the dusty makeshift cot, she went to the sink in the corner of the warehouse and washed her face, peering into the cracked mirror. The beginning of this ordeal had been far less stressful, it had been so easy. Too easy, now she was tangled with emotion and everything stunk of danger. A Humanis politician. A human thinking that anyone who wasn't human didn't deserve rights. Elise spat blood into the sink, she had bit her lip sometime during her nightmares. Her hair was dyed black now, instead of carnation pink and lilac, but the blond roots were starting to show. For some reason she got more nasty looks as a blond elf than when she had purple hair. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she took the picture of her mother from the file she had found in the abandoned hospital. Staring at her slightly older looking mother staring back at her, feelings of anger, yearning and confusion welled up in her throat.
She had seen their bodies, laying like rag dolls on their thick rich part of town carpets. Victor had brought her home from practice, fourteen years old and high on sweat from martial arts. Her mother and father lay dead, shattering her hope of someday having parents who weren't too busy. Now they were much too busy for her, being dead. She had told the Lone star that, and they didn't believe her, that had been her first clue.
But here was evidence, that she had been tipped off to by Victor. Her mother appeared to be alive, the file was dated a year ago. It infuriated her, that at least one of her parents were not dead, as odd as that was. As a child, all she had wanted was to spend time with her Elven Scientist parents. Nannies couldn't handle the bundle of energy that was Elenore Highcastle, no matter how many that were hired. It wasn't until she started getting brought home by the Lone Star for going places she wasn't allowed that a family friend stepped in to help the girl. Victor Nickless, a Megacorp Exec that her parents apparently were close friends with. He came to the house after Elise had been brought home and offered to teach her an old style of Martial Arts that he knew. Northern Shaolin Kung Fu, it sounded funny at first, but she gave in and finally had an outlet. She had been twelve then.
Now she stared hard at the face of the elf in her picture, nearly ten years since this woman had been lost to her. Yet here she was, wearing time on her face that she didn't deserve.
Victor said that things ended up ways that none of them had planned when she had grilled him about her parents the day before. Somehow he had been arrested, for what the news hadn't said, it all sounded bogus. She had gone to the station and used her real name in hopes of getting somewhere, what she had gotten was the interrogation room. The Lone star had asked about her parents, then didn't believe her when she told him not only were they long dead, but she had seen the bodies. It was bewildering that the Lone Star acting like she was being obstinate by not changing her story after telling her that she was wrong. Then Victor shows up at her safehouse with the group known as the Ruffians, when she hadn't told him where she had been. In fact, she had been looking for him and failed. Not only that, but he told her to come with him. As she got into the car, Hannibal rammed them with Griff's van. Thinking back now, it probably had looked strange from his prospective. Her getting into a rich as sin sedan with a human in a suit, maybe he was trying to protect her, who knows. It hadn't gotten less fishy from there, Victor had pulled over on the side of a highway. Told her to run, and leave Seattle, but she had asked about her parents. After he told her about the Hospital, to look there. He had left her in the car and jumped from the highway's bridge, gone. No body, like he had simply landed and walked away.
She screamed and kicked the sink, pacing. After finding the file, she was not leaving. This is why she did these things, why she took jobs with hackers, and slummers, with riggers, like Griff.

Guns and Pigtails.

A freckled nose was poised an inch from the tangled wires of her next drone when the acidic velvet voice pierced her intent attentions, "I said, I need to go into the pier district."
Daisy looked up at the elf from her crouching position over the fetal drone, blue eyes taking a moment to focus on the non-mechanical form, "Petunia's resting." Daisy grinned, the gap in her front teeth closed with her tongue pushing to it.
The female scoffed down at the freckled little human, putting her a hand on her hips as the other motioned around the run down and filthy club that served as the Black Crow's hangout, "Believe me, you're not my first choice for a ride! How old are you? Eight? You shouldn't even be able to drive!"
Scowling, Daisy stood, only coming up to the elf's collarbone, even though her race was only five foot five at most. Daisy was shorter. "Look, fairy-folk female number one. Petunia is resting." She poked her hard in her breastbone with a thickly gloved finger, "And I'm fifteen! If you're so well-connected, so buy yourself a ride from some elf-wannabe!"
A smirk curved the creature's lips, Daisy was wearing pigtails, a sunny yellow dress and had a constellation of freckles on her face. Her boyish figure certainly made it easy to mistake her for not only a child, but one that couldn't hurt a fly. "Van, now." She shoved Daisy, causing her to stumble over her unborn drone. But when she righted herself, the elf only had to look into the girl's unfocused eyes to realize it had been a bad idea. Especially when the roto-drone flew from its place in the corner to level its sub-machine guns with her pointy ears.

Sleeb the Napping Blade

Lying on her back, Sleeb played with Milton, her cow plush she had made, and Boris, her favorite elephant plush. She was on the floor of a ship, one that he just been in quite the battle. Yet she seemed calm and care-free as usual, despite the fact that Castian had just barely saved her from being crushed to death that very day. The island Keep of Zhents had come into view, and she had packed her things to get ready. Her Rapier rolled back and forth on the floor boards neck to her, as she made voices for the stuffed animals. Her pointed ears twitched with each creak of the ship, and she watched everyone as she played, out of the corner of her eye. Everyone was so serious all the time, and she wasn't sure that they were all very nice people, but she had signed their contract. She was park of the Art Blades now, What kind of blade should I be?, glancing to her Rapier, she pondered. Maybe the 'Playful Blade' or the 'Twirling Blade'...

The House of Tiefling

In the City of Splendors, deep within the lands of Faerun, there is said to be a building known as the House of Tiefling. Most only know the rumor, not the location, as Waterdeep is a massive metropolis to be sure. It is said the house is home to at least two dozen of this children of demons, and its run by two elderly purebred tiefling. Tieflings born of a pairing of the creatures. In this house, there are an odd mix of the monsters, but each is raised with love by the two at the top. It could almost be called nurturing, so much that many of the creatures that live and grow there are more often neutral than not. Some mad whisperings even tell of good tieflings that have been raised in such a home. A man recently said that a friend of his cousin gave birth to one of those demon spawn and got a missive telling her to leave the child warm and dry on her step on the next full moon. The next morning the babe was gone without a trace, been gone for a tenday now. Shh, here come the Watch, the Cap'n would love to find and drive them out...better head home now.

The Town of Statha R'glin

Quiet on the outside, as the sun sets, in each house there is something well hidden from the world. A little dark haired half-elf arranges the skulls of small monster and animals under her bed as her adventuring gear hangs where her mother can't see it. "Ten years of age is no age for an adventurer!" fresh in her ears.
A traveling mute bard hides the cats in his room as he studies local lore one mages able to lift curses.
A maiden enters her room swiftly after a men approached her for a casual chat, she locks the door and picks up her sword, twirling it once she begins deft swordplay in order to calm her nerves.
A doppleganger child stares out the window of his human parent's home, wishing for his own identity.
The Dwarven Blacksmith closes his eyes as he releases a hawk to his family, hoping that no one finds out he's been keeping in contact from the kingdom from which he was exiled.
The local Oracle closes her small temple's doors, mentally begging to know how she makes predictions.

As all the lights go out in this town, unified cry goes up from the hearts and minds go up from the villagers, "Where is my hero with the answers?"

The Noble and the Sly

"Oh, you are such a villan! Tell me again!" Her pristine amber eyes glittered with naive excitement, petite uncalloused hands grasping at his, "Tell me again!"
He grinned a bit, his yellow eyes taking their time up from her soft small hands to her face, not pausing on her breasts, no, he was a gentleman, "But I have told you it so many times, Miss!" He kissed her fingers, right before the knuckle, no need to rush, she blushed and giggled. She was a lovely human, stunning, radiant like a Celestial. Her blond hair was curled and framed her face like a halo, no tan marred her perfect skin, the blush was like a dollmaker had gently rubbed the paint onto porcelain. "But alright...once more." He told her of his exploits, the most notable was her own father, a governor of the local province, proud and rich. How he hurt no one, but took all that he found in the carriage. The daring swing in and knocked out the guards, he paused in all her favorite places.
He knew she would ask again this time, "And what have you spent it on, sir?"
This time his smiled his most dashing, knavish grin and pulled his treasure from his pocket, "Nothing...but a trinket for my most enthralling fan." She had asked him every time if he had spent it, if he had bought something this time. She had watched his face, wanting to know what glorious magical baubles he had bought to help his dangerous ways. He had not wrapped it in a box, no, he gently pinched the chain from inside the pitch of his pocket and carefully pulled it up so he could see the joy build upon her face as more and more of the treasure until the jeweled star on the end showed. She nearly screamed, nearly swooned, her face grew flush. He father could give her a jewel such as that and she would stow it away in her box forever, but such ill-gotten pleasures caused her such a thrill.
"Its like you plucked it from the stars!" She grasped it to her chest, to her young bosom, her face was flushed as a budding rose. "Oh, you knave! Please, let me go out with you next time you..." She lowered her voice dramatically, looking about from the hidden alley in which they hid their meetings, "preform your deeds?"
Another grin, he winked and touched her forearm, near the elbow, she gasped and smiled yearningly, "My dear, my life is far too dangerous for someone of your status! I must steal these thrills more sparingly than gold, if your father foun--"
"The dragons take him! I love you, Melech!" She grabbed him with a force and need that caused him a huge flare of desire, he could only stare in pleasure.
But he would not rush this, there could be no regret, "And I, you, Coretta, my jewel! My pure white rose..." He gently took her soft hands from his ruffed shirt and touched her face, "But one of your purity...no, my dear. I could not soil you."

A trill came from a few rooftops away and they both looked up, pain and awe on the girl's face, "No!"
"Yes, Coretta, I will come again, listen for the Nightingale!" He pulled himself away with effort and left her there to wind her way back to her mute guard. Burning for him.

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A bit of backstory for a NPC in Justin's campaign, and my attempt at some steamy, yet slightly cliche' old romance novel style.

Fireheart the Fire-Eater

I've been having a desire to write, but no inspiration on what to write...I hate being bored...