Feeling the warmth of his sheets and pillow on his body made him sink deeper into his bed, well that is until he felt a movement next to him. Jumping up quickly he realized there was a human women in his bed. Quickly getting dressed before she awoke, Chmelyk tried to grab his boot but he managed to wake the woman up.
“Good morning,” she said with a grin.
“G’morning,” Chmelyk said gruffly.
“Some night last night . . . ,”
“Uhm yeah, listen I’m going into the washroom to wash-up when I come back I don’t want to see you here . . . Ms . . .Ms?”
“Piyper . . . Piyper Glenanne,” she said with outrage on her face at the fact that he didn’t remember her name.
“Well Ms. Glenanne and I do hope it is Ms and not Mrs,” Chmelyk said quietly to himself, “because I’m not going through that again”
“No, no it’s Ms.”
“Grand, now you’re going to get out of my bed and go to where ever it is where you go during the day,” Chmelyk added, “But if that bed means the world to you I know where it will be tonight . . . ”
“Why can’t I just stay in it all day long? It’s so warm.”
“So are the rays of sun out in Stormwind, outcha go,” Chmelyk said as he closed the door to the washroom. He wasn’t particularly phased by this, it happened often enough. He would go to a pub, get smashed, and wake up with a women next to him. He was glad it was a human this time, Dwarves are hard to get out of bed. While in the washroom he noticed he placed some mail in there, drunken minds and all.
“Can’t they take a hint?” Chmelyk muttered to himself as he tore the letter into quarters and threw them in the garbage.
* * *
Later that morning Chmelyk was in the auction house trying to outbid someone on a necklace for his mother’s birthday. To bad the other guy wasn’t going to give up that easy.
“I’m sorry, sir it looks like you’ve been out bid again,” Said the Auctioneer as he look to another auctioneer waving his hands about signaling to him.
“I should find who that is and gut him,” Chmelyk said angered. The Auctioneer looked shock that such words could come out of a priests mouth, “Bid again five gold higher.” The Auctioneer waved to his counterpart. With a wave of hands Chmelyk had won the necklace, and was on his way out when he saw who kept out bidding him. “Aw Bloody . . . ,” he quickly faded from sight and made his way out of there.
He faded back into sight close to a cart that was being loaded up with letters for those fighting in Northrend. The clock tolled noon and he headed to an Inn for lunch with a friend.
* * *
“A pint of ale if you please,” Chmelyk asked of the server.
“So you didn’t remember her name?” asked the friend.
“Nah, I hope she comes back tonight, she wasn’t half bad-looking.”
“Aren’t priests supposed to be celibate, and abstain from swearing and drinking?”
“Only the ones of the light,”
“I you really that daft, I’m a priest of the shadows! Shadows aren’t judgemental and create less of a headache after brewfest.” His friend just chuckled. A few dwarves rounded the corner heading straight for Chmelyk.
“Listen, lunch is on you and I’ll catch you later.”
“Fine but the next one is on you!” He called out after him as Chmelyk ran off. He ran into the Cathedral Square whilst the other Dwarves followed. He bumped into a Gnome on his way, but quickly made up for lost time by sprinting across the bridge.
“You wouldn’t hit someone in a place of the light wouldcha?
“Nah, we wouldn’t,” said the leader, “Take him to the Dwarven District!” Chmelyk was grabbed and dragged to the Dwarven District. A few punches and kicks later Chmelyk had enough and he cast some shadow magic that inspired fear into the minds of his captors. With them running in fear, Chmelyk picked himself up and walked to the nearest in. He threw some gold on the counter and told the barkeeper he wasn’t to be disturbed. He made it to the bed before he passed out.
* * *
It was close to midnight when he awoke next. He made his way to the bar and ordered a dragonkin steak for his swollen eye. A Gnome left the Inn which he was oblivious to.
“Forget the steak, I’ll just get some ice from home.” Chmelyk left the Inn and let the darkness of midnight swallow him whole. The whole way home he heard footsteps behind him, so he cast fade again and ran around the Dwarven district till he thought he lost them. Once he was visible again all he heard was, “gotcha!” and the hilt of a dagger was thrust against the back of his head. Chmelyk was unconscious once more.
* * *
When he awoke he was tied to a chair and had a runecloth bag over his head.
“By King Magni’s saggy right-,”
“Out of all the priests I’ve known none of them had such a colourful vocabulary as yours,” said an awfully familiar voice.
“. . . . crap.”