Josie, the rarest mage in the world

Race: Human
Born: Stormwind
Age: 40
Profession: Just A Mage, Absolutely Nothing Else. Not Secretly A High Elf, Or A Warlock, Or A Light Mage, Or Whatever. Just A Plain Old Mage.
Eyes: Grey
Hair: Brown
Tentacles: None

Biography: Josie is a middle-aged adventurer. She casts spells. She’s pretty good at it, but not the best. She grew up in a loving two-parent home and still visits her relatives on occasion. In her spare time, she knits. Josie enjoys brisket, red wine and long walks through the harbour district.

She is not deformed, scarred, psychotic, cagey, antisocial, malevolent, or Scottish.

It was a beautiful sunny day in Stormwind. A woman in a dark blue dress was sitting on the bench in front of the Blue Recluse. There was no sound except the singing of the birds, the quiet voices of three young girls, gently bickering about the best way to do some wizardry or other, and the gentle clicking of the knitting needles. Stripes. White and blue stripes. Glynis’ latest would not have cold ears. Should she add a bobble? Josie’s eyes wrinkled. Of course she should.

She looked up at a noise, peering out from under the brim of her pointy hat. O dear. Some sort of excitement was going on. Several guards were chasing a gentleman of the Blood-elvish persuasion. Possibly a Rogue of some sort. He was looking rather grumpy. Bright lights were playing all over his body. Josie recognised it as Faerie Fire, such as the Druids used. This particular Rogue had probably tried to enter the city by walking past Celestine’s house. Celestine did not like to be disturbed in her meditations, not at all. She was really as sweet a girl as you could hope to meet, but like many girls from Gilneas, she could be a real… Josie stopped, laughing to herself. Worgen jokes. Mostly they were very funny as long as you weren’t a Worgen. You shouldn’t, really. The Blood-elf actually made it out of the grassy area and ran in the direction of the Dwarven District. Josie pushed up her glasses. Now had she done five lines of white or six? She squinted, counting. Six. Three more, and then the blue-

“Keep very, very quiet.”

Josie knew better than to look round.

“I was already quiet, young man.”

“Good. Do what I say and nobody gets hurt.”

“That’s nice,” said Josie.

The Blood-elf laughed quietly. “You’re not afraid of me.”

“No,” said Josie. She could feel the Blood-elf’s breath on her cheek.


“What do you want from me, Mr. Blood-elf?”

“Do you live nearby?”

“Yes,” said Josie. She had a small house with a nice view of the canal. It was only five minutes’ walk from the mage tower.

“Let’s go.”

The Elf pulled his hood over his face, hiding his green eyes and long ears. He looked at Josie.

“Don’t try to run. I used all my fast-working poisons. The only ones I’ve left are the ones where it takes you twenty-four hours to die.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Josie.

They walked to Josie’s house, and Josie opened the door. The Elf walked in as though he owned the place, looked round and pulled out a chair.

“Sit down.”

Josie looked into the Blood-elf’s eyes, sat down. The Blood-elf found the belt to Josie’s dressing gown and tied her hands behind her back. He crouched down in front of her.

“You and I, we’re going to lay low for a while here. And if you’re a good girl, nothing bad will happen to you.”

Josie looked into the Blood-elf’s eyes.

“How long?”

“Just till nightfall. Then, I’ll be gone.” The Blood-elf patted her cheek. “Don’t you worry. As long as you don’t try anything funny…”

“Why are you here?”

The Blood-elf bent forward to her. “Well, I could tell you. But then…”

Night fell. Josie’s arms were tingling. The Blood-elf was sitting by the window, looking out through the curtains. Josie watched him. Rogues. Even their own Rogues were seldom up to any good, let alone this Hordish one. He was probably here to assassinate someone. The King? Never. King Varian was too well protected for just a single Rogue. Probably some other functionary who had been annoying the Horde. Well, she wasn’t about just to leave him to it. the Blood-elf looked up at the moon, and got to his feet.

“Time for me to go,” said the Blood-elf. “Oh.”


The Blood-elf drew his dagger. “I lied. Something bad is going to happen to you. Close your eyes dear, and I’ll make it quick.”

Josie sniffed. “Honestly. If you are going to be like that, then I am not going to be a good girl.”

The Blood-elf laughed. “I do like a target with a sense of humour. Goodbye little lady.”

Josie’s eyes glowed as mana surged from her pool, into the spell she had been preparing. With a short, sharp syllable, a cloud of ice blew from her. The Blood-elf didn’t even have the time to twitch before he was caught in the cloud of ice and frozen in place, unable to move, dagger out. Josie considered for a moment cutting herself free with it, but thought better of it. If the blade was poisoned, and she cut herself, then she would die of nothing but her own stupidity, and Josie was anything but stupid. Instead, she found her bread-knife, set it up in a drawer and cut herself free with that instead. She looked at the Blood-elf, whose green eyes were following her round the room. Josie opened a cupboard, and pulled out the heavy iron frying pan. She calmly walked round, took careful aim, and with a metallic clang, hit the Blood-elf over the head with it.

“Thanks Ma’am,” said the guard. “We’ve been looking all over for this one. I’m very sorry you had to go through all that.”

Josie gave the guard a motherly smile. “Not to worry dear. I could have taken him with my hands tied behind my back. Now if you don’t mind, Glynis will be wondering if I’m going to show up at all tonight, and I think the night calls for one of those bottles of Redridge claret I’ve been saving for a special occasion. Goes very well with brisket.”

“Enjoy your meal, Ma’am,” said the guard.


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