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More Tauren love

Okay so, I rolled a tauren hunter (to complete the quad of course) and have been playing him with Mog's druid. And because I'm a pain in the arse, I decided I wanted the white worg as a pet. Well, ol' Ghost Howl isn't tameable of course, so the next best place was... Dun Morogh.

So off to Org, then Undercity, Silverpine... and Hillsbrad was where the fun began. Bears and spiders feasted upon us as we traversed the grassy hillsides. After stopping in Tarren Mill, we stubbornly made our way toward Arathi, where bears were replaced by RAPTORS and we died even more. Mog died more though, since he was all "sum durids is bare" and I was all "lol i r huntard." But! We made it to Wetlands where the spiders weren't as aggressive and then made our way though the mountain tunnels. Mountain tunnels filled with angry dwarves. Sigh. However, their stubby legs just could not keep up with our bovine strides and we somehow survived, at least until Kharanos. We had to split up there to reach the lake up in northwestern Dun Morogh lest we die many more times needlessly. And it turned out that someone had JUST KILLED ol' Timber because we saw his two wolf escorts wandering around without him, and he spawned almost exactly 45 minutes later. Luckily, taming him was pretty easy as Mogs kept his escorts busy while I tamed him.

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And there you have it! We hearthed shortly afterwards and went to the inn for logging times. I've named him Ishte Washte since then, which means "White Spirit" in Taurahe (after much experimentation with language filters). Uh... woo!

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And the Emmy goes to...

Haha, I totally stole that title from Hukari. But! I did get my first non-druid to Outland! And she has a fastwolf!

SS or it didn't happen and all that jazzCollapse )

Updates!

Man. It's been way too long since I've written in this thing :x

There's going to be a bit of a change of pace here from now on. Since I really only RP two characters (and to be really technical, just one. Sigh), they're going to get their own separate blogs. I'll post linkage when it happens.

And so, this journal will be reserved for all non-RP WoW stuff. You know, milestones, funny stories, rants about bad PuGs, what have you. I think that should make things easier.

SO, the biggest news is, my two druids are 70 and they both have themselves epic flight bay-bay!

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Kindred Spirits - Milanna

((This was an RP challenge in my tauren's guild's forum, and also something that had been floating in my head for a while.))

One day in Azeroth...Collapse )

Milanna

A fairly young (just barely full grown) Tauren druid stands quietly, watching all around her but bringing no large amount of attention to herself. Her ivory coat splotched with auburn greatly contrasts with her dark face and horns, highlighted only by some white patches on her muzzle. However, more often than not these patches seem pink with a frequent blush. She speaks both Taurahe and Orcish, though in either language she speaks slowly, thinking carefully before she says anything, and stutters slightly when nervous, regardless.

Milanna fidgets often with a parchment-sized pouch at her size, a stark contrast to the heavy-looking pack on her back. She also often glances to the ground at a mini-mechanical yeti and especially a tiny prairie dog, who seems to get a thrill out of weaving between her hooves.

Currently she seems weary, and her ears and tail are constantly drooping, as she is apparently troubled by something.

Though not in this picture.Collapse )
Annwn stands at average height and average build. In fact, nothing in particular really stands out about this night elf. Her fern-colored hair is held back in a stiff ponytail, and while her rosy rather than lavender skin is uncommon, it is nothing really worth noting.

She seems kind and friendly enough. She talks animatedly with her hands, the left of which has a series of small scars that look like teethmarks, perhaps from an unfortunate encounter.

Even her feral forms are nothing unusual: the long-eared bear, the midnight-furred panther, the quick-footed cheetah. But when Annwn transforms into the Moonkin (which is often indeed), that is when she stands out. The usually dull brown-gray pelt is instead a dark, earthy red... and there is something else different about her while she is in this form as well, though it is not something visible to the naked eye...

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Milanna's tale - The Kilt

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Milanna's Tale

Milanna thanked the flight master at Camp Taurajo (she never did dare ask his name) and turned west to reach the road that led from the Barrens into the soft, green land of Mulgore. It had been a long time since she had walked this way. For the past few moons, her only business in her homeland was in Thunder Bluff, which she had flown to from various points, but never entered any other way.

However, now she was on her way back to the Red Cloud Mesa... and she could not deny she was nervous. It seemed like ages ago since she had been there, and anywhere else near home. The druid hadn't even dared... until now.

Milanna watched her pet and friend prairie dog, Ginger, as she skittered along beside her, sniffing this and that. As long as she keep beside me and not beneath me as she usually does... Her gaze returned to the road ahead, each step leading her further from the Tears, from Iphito and Mograg. She could feel her ears droop as she thought of her new friends... and love.

"Do you suppose they'll... be mad at me, for leaving without saying where I was going?" she asked the critter. Ginger turned her attention from a yellow flower to her master, whiskers twitching. "I did tell Mograg, and Iphito... I suppose they will alert anyone who is curious." She paused. "Then again, no one else would probably notice." An ironic giggle emerged from her throat, but she still worried. The Tauren was still new and unestablished among her clan... she would hate to ruin things so soon.

But Milanna knew that with every step away from her newfound family, she was one step closer to her previous one... or at least, one member of it. After six months of hearing nothing, Milanna had finally received a short but pointed letter from her sister.

The druid was excited and nervous at the same time. She reached into a small pouch at her side and pulled out a piece of parchment, wrinkled from being held and read so many times. And now, Milanna read it again:

Milanna,

The Tears of Draenor... yes, we do have much to speak about.

Meet me at the Mesa in three nights time.

-Emlyn.


Milanna sighed and put the letter away. It was three days ago she had received it, and now she began her journey to arrive before nightfall. She had no idea how long she would be gone. It would most likely depend on whether this meeting would be good, or bad. And it was very hard to tell, with Emlyn's inconveniently stoic writing. Milanna figured it had something to do with the fact that it was strangely written in Orcish, which her sister had had a harder time learning than she. But, she figured, if Emlyn were to finally speak to me after all this time, it must be good... right?

A chittering snapped her out of her reverie, and she realized she had stopped right before the border into Mulgore. She blinked and looked down at Ginger, who was up on her hind legs and giving the Shu'halo concerned and inquisitive looks. Milanna smiled apologetically at her.

"Sorry, Ginger... I guess I... got lost in my thoughts for a moment." She looked ahead once again at the grassy plains and took a deep breath. And with that, Milanna continued forth into what she knew would be another new chapter of her life.

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Milanna's Tale (Prologue)

A small band of Shu’halo traversed south through the grassy plains of Mulgore, the moon shining bright in a starless sky. In the lead was a curved-horned male Tauren, followed by a more slender female cradling a baby calf while an older female calf followed close behind. A few more scattered figures trailed them as they kept as silent as possible, ever watchful of the brutal centaurs that had invaded the land.

The centaurs had been watching them for two days now, ever since they departed northern Mulgore. They bided their time, allowing the clan to fall into a false sense of security. They were positive that the Shu’halo had not even sensed them as they followed through the day and night. This was their land, now; the bull-people were merely trespassers in their eyes.

But they were wrong. The leader had known they were being followed since the eve of the previous day. The foolish horse-people could not keep themselves concealed if their lives depended on it, thought the Tauren… and in this case, it does. He stopped, suddenly, the female nearly bumping into him. The others stopped as well, whispering among themselves what the matter could be.

“Put the calves in the center,” he rumbled lowly in the Taurahe language to his wife. Then he spoke to the rest, “Prepare yourselves.”

The centaurs looking on perked, believed them to be taking a reprieve. A rest? In the middle of the night? This was what they had been waiting for…

The young calf clung to her mother as she heard a terrible cry, the war cry of the centaur. She had only heard about it in the stories, but to hear it with her own ears… it was even more terrifying than she had imagined, and she buried her face in her mother’s robes. The infant stirred uncomfortably in her mother’s arms.

But the larger, stronger Tauren who surrounded them stood their ground. As thirty horse-people advanced toward them on all sides, the significantly fewer adults began a low chant, and a large dark cloud began to form above them. The centaurs, blinded by the brink of battle, were unaware of the onslaught their enemies were preparing. The mother moved the calves closer to the center and gave the baby to the young girl. “Keep them together,” she whispered to her daughter, who nodded while her mother went to join fight against the attack.

When the centaurs were within twenty yards, three Tauren broke off from the chant, calling down fire from the stars to begin attacking their assailants. Outraged by the fall of their brothers, the rest of the centaurs began to focus on those three… which was exactly what the clan wanted.

The three chosen Shu’halo moved away from the group and faced the now twenty-something centaurs all on their own. The leader watched carefully, waiting for just the right moment. The subgroup continued to rain celestial fire upon their assailants, slowly dropping their numbers. But just as what remained raised their axes to slaughter the three “helpless” Shu’halo…

“NOW!”

The ones still chanting in the circle now turned toward the centaurs, a new spell being uttered from their lips now. The centaurs turned at the sudden cry, and too late, they looked up to see not single bolts of moonfire or starfire, but several large lightning bolts aimed toward them… all at the same time.

The centaur leader screamed something in their strange language which most likely meant to retreat, but they found themselves held fast in place. While they had been distracted by the lead Tauren’s cry, the three had ensnared the rest of them in entangling roots. The helpless centaurs could only watch as the electric forces depleted the rest of their numbers, killing them all… except for the leader, who lay broken on the ground.

The horse-man leader’s view was nothing but the sideways view of the night horizon… until it was obscured by one large cloven hoof. The large Tauren grasped the half-dead centaur by the throat and roughly lifted him up to eye-level. Even though he knew his enemy did not speak his language, the Tauren knew that the centaur would understand his next words.

“Let us be… all of us… for there is more where that came from.” He dropped the horse-man on the ground, who shakily stood up and limped off as quickly as he could into the night.

The young calf watched her father with awe from behind the other Tauren. She then looked down at her baby sister and saw that the baby was watching her father as well.

“See, Milanna?” she whispered. “Papa will keep us safe.” The male Tauren then turned toward his clan.

“We continue on,” he said simply, and they began heading south once more.

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