Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Cold Wind Blowing

Reynnawulf woke up to the twittering of birds, singing to each other
as the sun shone through the wintry clouds over Dalaran. The sun's rays came through the curtains and Reynnawulf had to blink a few times before stretching. Her back
arched, her arms stretched above her head, the curvature of her slender legs, she was the image of feminine perfection.

She sat up in bed, wrapped her bedsheet around and looked outside her
room window. The sounds of Dalaran arose and reached her ears, the
chatter of people below, the clanging of hammer upon anvil at the
blacksmith, the grinding of stones at the jeweller all greeted her
with sound resolution

Even with the shadow of the Lich King that hung over this cursed land
could not drown the spirits of this world of heroes, Horde and
Alliance alike.