99 Chaos Bolts
(Not a macro/micro story!)
Just a fun little Warcraft bit I posted a small while ago on the WoW forums, based on a character that posted there.
The decayed Undead shuffled through chipped wooden doors into the tobacco-filled air of the tavern, band music blaring louder in his ears upon entry. Several patrons stopped mid-chug to glance over their shoulders at the unliving visitor, dismissing his arrival to return to their games and gambling.
Shivins withdrew a crumpled parchment from his pocket, unfurling it into something readable as he approached the bar and took his seat next to an armor-clad Tauren. The bull huffed through his nostrils at his guest, but the living corpse didn't so much as regard it as he flagged down the barkeep.
"The house special. I've been told you have a discount tonight." He crossed his decomposed arms on the surface top. "On the rocks."
The barkeep nodded, and set down the drinking glass he'd been polishing to retrieve the request from the back room. His departure left the Undead alone with the hulking warrior next to him that itched to speak. He did.
"What are you, some kind of errand boy? Awful brave coming to these parts without a weapon." He swigged from his oversized mug, slamming it to the bar and continuing with slurred breath. "Coming in here like you own the place. I remember when your 'kind' showed respect...and didn't wear pajamas." Shivins remained silent as his eyes studied the featureless surface below his hands.
Roaring cheers and rants erupted from a nearby table at what he guessed was a clutch win at a card game. Of course, as in most taverns in the county, there was more to a loss than a simple empty wallet. He could see his shadow flash on the shelves of alcohol behind the bar as a spell fired off behind him, and the tinkle of a shattered ice lance rained in unison with game pieces.
"Oi! No spell flingin' in me tavern!" A peg-legged dwarf hobbled from a side door to the crowd gathered around the unconscious body sprawled on the wooden boards. "Take that mess outside if ye want to fight. There be no free entertainment in here."
The female Orc assailant stood down, the icy glow fading from her fingers. "I'll be damned if I'm cheated at my own game." She turned on a heel, eliciting a flinch from those behind her as she made a furious leave. A few turned the table upright and gathered the pieces and gold that had lied atop it, not daring to slip any in their pockets fresh after the gruesome display.
The Tauren watched the body get dragged from the room and turned back to Shivins. "Hey." He bumped a massive shoulder plate into the zombie. "I wasn't done talkin'. So like I was sayin', I don't like folk like you in my territory. I've owned this bar since the day I walked in."
Shivins did nothing but study the parchment as the barkeep came out with a glass of blue fluid. "Aye," The Orc set the glass in front of him. "On the rocks." He then withdrew an intricate, tiny box from his robe and opened it to reveal two foggy ice cubes. Dropping them into the drink caused a furious reaction as the liquid fizzed up and shaded an emerald color.
A low growl murmured from the gut of the bovine. "You hear me talkin' to ya?!" Shivins stared longingly into his beverage before scooping it up and raising it to his decayed lips like a starved survivor. The warrior was fed up: he grabbed the rogue by the collar and tugged him closer. "Disrespect is one thing people never do twice in here."
Shivins' expression was relaxed as though he were alone. His arm raised the drink slowly, then swung it down to the counter with a shatter that made the bar go silent. A swipe of the broken glass made the Tauren fall off his seat to a ground-shaking crash as he grasped at his red-and-green glistened neck. Shivins unceremoniously disappeared in a puff of dark fog, and his parchment floated to and fro down to the fallen Tauren.
As his vision faded, the last thing he saw was a name - his name on the parchment, just above a list of deadly herbs.
* * *
The Orc woman moved down the row of choppers until she reached hers, withdrawing a set of polished wooden keys from her pocket. She swung a leg over the savage leather seat and tilted the front wheel of her trike upright as she put her riding gloves on. "Took you long enough."
The Undead walked from the shadows to the rider. "It takes time, my friend." He hopped onto the seat behind her as she fired up the engine, and they pulled off into the moonlit desert night.
"Enjoyment takes time."