Quest: Impossible

It was a day like any other. Tereas sat on a stool tenderly scrubbing the dirt out of Arynnia’s bloodied kneecap. “Owwah!” she fussed, nostrils flaring in discomfort. He smiled and continued washing the dirt out with his silk handkerchief. “Just wait ‘til you get stabbed next - I’ll scrub your wound with a troll’s hair brush!” she admonished him.

“Not likely you’ll be doing that,” he teased. Tereas’ voice changed to that tauntingly soft tone he saved just for her. “You might well give me shadoword pain by mistake instead.” His methods were designed to help her feel like her awkwardness was more bearable for laughing at it. Although she laughed, she smacked his long ear with the twisted end of the towel she’d been wringing for distraction.

He whimpered in mock pain and rolled across the floor feigning agony at her inflicted meanness. Grinning like a tamed battleboar, Tereas started searching for a small linen bandage when a tiny gnomish device on his wrist began to glow. Arynnia saw it and they both looked at each other. It was mission time. This particular wound was not the first to be left to heal in the open air.



They traveled, dressed in full subdued sets of loosely threaded gear to the most populated streets of Stormwind. Their mark was found in The Empty Quiver this time, where Lina Stover issued the code words after Arynnia asked the issued protocol question. Arynnia carefully tucked her arm inside Tereas’ elbow as they left the shop, which was a good thing, since her ear caught in the doorway. He swiftly prevented her fall by steering her firmly towards the less crowded bridge just outside the walls of the Trade District.

There he plucked a lone darkmoon flower out of his bags and leaned forward to carefully place it in her hair within close proximity to her ear. He activated the ear bloom while whispering urgently, “Where to now?”

The code words, deciphered, led them to Artisan Mottar, near the fountain in town. Recognition of the flower and a cough from Tereas preceded the handover of both recording and envelope. Their next destination was an empty safe cell in Stormwind Keep where no one would overhear or see their exchange. The recording began.

“Good morning, Mister Tereas. Your quest, should you chose to accept it, is dangerous indeed. The hearts of males and females alike are aflutter with an affliction of gravely dangerous nature.” Tereas and Arynnia looked at each other.

The recording continued, “There's something unnatural about this epidemic of love. It's not proper, it's an eyesore, and at worst, it could be a threat to the safety of the Alliance itself. If you or anyone else on your team should be compromised, we will deny any knowledge of your existence.”

The end of the recording contained the obligatory caveat, “This message will self-destruct in five seconds.” True to its word, the recording melted into a mound of gelatinous goo before vanishing in an acidic cloud.

Tereas flipped through the contents of the envelope, passing the images to Arynna as the recording played. The images showed hordes of heartsick love-seekers drooping before amorous guards and merchants. Close ups depicted the questioning faces of both Artisan Mottar and Morgan Pestle. Some non-descript tailor was featured in an unidentified clothing shop. Outside panoramics of the Guilded Rose and Ravenholdt Manor were included. The images dissolved after being tossed into the canal. Arynnia and Tereas quickly headed to the notoriously secretive black and white room.

Within its pristine walls, a tinny voice spoke rapidly:

“This quest is impossible! No one with any presence of mind would take on such a task. Love is surely dead. Intimacy is a fallacy in modern Azeroth, I assure you! Proof surrounds you in the demise of everyday living: rogues pick pocket even the poor, raid members loot like ninjas, and farmers cultivate gold instead of morrowgrain! This war-torn land had gone to fel in a tannin basket. Looking for love is nigh but a fruitless search. Even a love fool can plainly see that some kind of sinister plot is behind this plague of passion! Find the source of this idiocy at once!”

Tereas arched an eyebrow at Arynnia. Impossible quest indeed.

They locked eyes and both of them simultaneously spoke, “Let’s do this.”



They worked in almost graceful unison. Or more accurately, Tereas had to be graceful enough for the both of them. He caught her when she fell off her mount, carried her when she twisted her ankle and shoved her through openings she thought she was small enough to enter. It was a damn good thing she was fluent in three languages and knew how to dance or they might have been quite the unbalanced team.

They discovered the new colognes and perfumes, spraying each other until they reeked and gagged. Arynnia caved in and danced, persuading Morgan Pestle to research the elements in each.

Stunned, he admitted, “Well, I'll be. It looks like Aristan might be on to something after all. I found traces of substances used in love potions and insidious mind-altering draughts. It isn't unheard of for perfumes to have some of them, but a few of the ingredients I detected... Smells funny.”

Flashing forward, the pair approach Allison at the Guilded Rose. It didn’t take long for Tereas to wheedle an opinion out of her. All he had to do was hypnotize her with a very small but handy device, of gnomish design, obviously, which appeared to be some kind of metronome. In actuality, it was used for Tereas’ exact purpose. All he had to do was show it to her as if he were selling merchandise for her shop, and she relaxed enough to let her real thoughts slip out.

She spoke with a cavalier shrug, “If you ask me, it's kind of boring. Everyone smelling the same? It smells great, but still.” She waved them off to go find some other supplier.

Searching high and low in the shops throughout Stormwind, the team finally happened upon the new tailor in town, Everett Sorisam. For once, Arynnia managed to cast a delicate dose of mind control instead of the wrong spell at the wrong time. The effect actually caused the little pissant to squeal, “What? Treason? No, no. I assure you, my intentions are completely harmless. Is it so wrong to help those who wish to ease the painful ritual of courtship? Come, that is no crime. And to prove I mean no harm, I will even tell you my source!”

Arynnia nodded to Tereas as she pulled her gangly limbs up onto the gryphon, “Painful ritual of courtship. Mmm hmm.” Tereas laughed into the wind at her constant need to reiterate that love was indeed dangerous.

They alit near the foothills of Hillsbrad and rode swiftly on matching cats to Ravenholdt Manor. There they used the clever little invisible misting devise which contained a potent mix of truth serums, each designed to stimulate the various races into compulsively blurting out confessions.

Staffron Lerent was no exception. He sneezed and spoke without even thinking:

“Yes, I made those fragrances. Wonderful smell, isn't it? Irresistible. Once the warriors of the Alliance and Horde alike are smitten with these feelings of love, they will be powerless to stop the rise of the Shadow Council. They will be weakened, unprepared. As they worry for their loved ones, they will lose their edge. The solution was so simple. Why did it take me so long to come up with it? The weakness of all is through the heart. And there is nothing you can do to stop the inevitable!”

His confession progressed into bragging by the time he was done. Arynnia silenced his cackle by shoving a gag cloth into his mouth. She’d drenched it with the nauseating perfume he’d created for good measure. Coughing and sputtering, he didn’t even resist as Tereas slipped the cuffs on him.

“Oh, Arynnia, look!” Tereas exclaimed, pulling colorful swatches from a large cauldron. “Let’s take a couple for disguises next time!” He tossed a lovely blue dress at her and she held it up in front of her as if it were gnome clothing.

“How is this worn? It will barely cover one of my feet!” she marveled.

He chuckled when she reached in and tossed a purple one at him, effectively spinning it around one of his ears.

“Oh yeah, I scored! Now you gotta wear it, bucko!”

Tereas held the dress up to his long frame and struck a few poses for her, batting his lashes and speaking in seductive falsetto, “I know you cannot resist me, baaaaby! You waaaaant me and you know it.”

Arynnia shot him the most horrified look, “Haven’t you learned anything?!”



Tereas didn’t know it, but her concealed camera took a freeze frame of them both, jumping through a portal on the way home - she in her lovely blue dress and he in his lovely purple one. She saved it, for blackmail purposes.