Kazi and I had another roleplaying session with Aroqin and Radoslaw a while back that Kazi never got around to proofreading. Since I’m impatient and Kazi is sleeping after his graveyard shift at his new job, I’m going to post it without him getting a chance to edit it! Mwahahaha!

*cough* Check out our first RP session if you missed it/don’t remember it.

The setting for this one is Qin’s and Rado’s isolated camp in Arathi Basin, when they were in their mid-30s.

Settled into her sleek cat form, Aroqin studiously licks her paws clean. She is seemingly unruffled by the struggles the prone, bound man whose back she is posed on.

Nearby, Radoslaw enthusiastically takes flint and steel to a small pile of tinder, blowing gently as the first spark catches. The first glimmers of the fire shine dully off the black-dyed leather of his well-worn armor.

The captive attempts to throw the druid off, only to be rewarded by her sharp claws kneading through his leather armor and into his flesh. At this point, he stops moving and clenches his jaw grimly. “Is that fire almost ready yet, boy?” Qin calls over. “This warming pillow is rather difficult to hold still.”

“Remember, hon,” she coos to the Syndicate thief, “I could change into a bear if it suits my mood.”

Radoslaw chuckles a little as the flames take hold, piling a little more wood inexpertly on the pile. “Almost, Qin…this isn’t the driest wood out here.” The rogue takes little notice of the struggling Syndicate, entranced by the movement of the flames.

“Remember to build the wood in a pyramid shape, and put the softer wood on.” She turns back to the captive, grinning impishly as she murmurs in his ear, “The hard wood we’ll need to save for later tonight, won’t we darling?” The man growls an insult, for which Qin casually cuffs him on the side of the head. “So savage, these Syndicate,” she muses in Rado’s general direction.

Nodding absently, Radoslaw stacks the wood in what might, under special circumstances, be charitably called a pyramid, then walks softly over to the druid and her captive. “There we go, Qin, I got it going real nice now.”

So…what’re we doing with this guy, anyway?” he asks, prodding the man’s leg with a boot. “I could’ve knifed him a lot more easily than whackin’ his head like that.”

“He’s going to tell us all the little details of Stromgarde’s defences. Isn’t that right, hon?” She coos again. Another louder curse earns him a stronger cuff to the head. “It looks like we may have to teach him to play nice with us first.” She gives Rado a cat-grin.

First ensuring the man’s eyes couldn’t catch his face, Rado gives her a wink. “Aww…Qin, I just finished getting the rest of the bloodstains off of my shirt…not everyone can just jump in a river to wash it off.”

“I suppose you’ll be forced to wear your other leathers then, the ones that are already well-stained. I know the color of dried blood doesn’t not match the poison on your daggers but there’s no one here to see you.” She kneads her claws again, purring at the pained yelps the man beneath her makes. “Yes…no one to see or hear us for miles and miles around.”

Radoslaw huffs slightly theatrically, then sits cross-legged in front of their prisoner’s face. “Well, mister Syndicate, I suppose we’re gonna have to get down to business pretty soon…got anything you want to say?”

He punctuates his words by drawing one of his daggers and slowly drawing it across a whetstone, testing the edge on his thumb after every stroke.

The thief sits in stony silence for a few moments, before Aroqin steps from his back over his legs and once swiftly changing into a bear, sits down neatly on his legs. The man cries out in agony from his bones being on the verge of shattering, “I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!” Shifting back into her feline form, she grins triumphantly at her companion. “Good to see that my feminine wiles work on a man as tough as this one.”

Radoslaw smiles back a touch nervously, putting his weapon to work cutting chunks of dried meat apart, occasionally popping one in his mouth to chew slowly. “That they do, Qin.”

Leaning down to address the now-terrified Syndicated, Radoslaw blinks inquisitively. “All right then, mister…what’s going on in Stromgarde, then? How’s your ‘prince’ have you fellows spread out?”

The prisoner babbles out the layout of their forces, along with the times of shift changes and even where they store their weapons. “But where the prince is, I dun know,” he admits with a nervous glance over his shoulder at Qin. “I report to one of ‘is lieutenants.”

“What a pity that is,” the cat druid heaves with a sigh. She draws herself to her feet and pads over to the captive’s head, who valiantly resists flinching away. “If I see you again, darling, and if it’s for anything other than a pleasant dinner and a room at the best inn…” She eyes him appraisingly. “Well, hope that I won’t be hungry.” She smiles wide at him, long white fangs flashing in the light of the fire.

Radoslaw chuckles grimly, then pokes the man’s nose. “And she’s an honest one, mister…I’d believe her if I were you. She makes me look all sweet and tender,” he says warmly, gently tapping the captive’s head with a dagger. “You letting him off now, Qin?”

“Unless there’s anything you want to ask him.” She curls up near the fire, looking thoroughly bored at the pair of humans before her. “You’re more intimate with thieves and other shadowy characters than I am so perhaps there was something he ‘forgot’ to tell us.”

Radoslaw considers for several long moments, tapping his chin contemplatively. “Hmmm…how many agents you folks have with the League of Arathor? And don’t try to tell me you don’t have ‘em, I know you do.”

The thief hems and haws for a for moments, but a meaningfully impatient tab on Rado’s knife convinces him to open up. “Uh…I don’t know a lot, but there’s this guy we’ve been getting reports from…always contacts us by letter drop, signs it Erten. That’s all I know, I swear!”

Radoslaw nods thoughtfully, then turns to Aroqin. “All right, how’re we doing this? Just let him up?”

Aroqin yawns wide, smacking her maw together. After rising and stretching lithely, she assumes her night elf form, completely kitted out in thick leather armor. “I think I’ve found a use for that ram we stole from the Syndicate…” She steps into the trees, returning momentarily with a light gray ram in tow. “Mind lifting him up, boy?” she asks as she indicates the saddle of the creature.

Radoslaw nods, hefting the slight man with only a bare grunt of effort and settling him on the saddle, lashing the man’s bindings to the saddle, then turning to grin at Qin. “Anything else you want sent with him?”

The night elf reaches down to scoop up a chunk of dried meat and secures it to the saddle. “This will help you make quick friends with those raptors out there,” she says cheerily as she pats the Syndicate’s knee affectionately. As the man’s eyes bulge, she changes once more into a cat form and lets form a boisterous roar. The ram rears, almost throwing its rider from his seat, and charges off into the night-darkened plains. Qin sits down on her haunches, happily admiring her work.

Radoslaw wanders to stand next to her, watching the ram charge off into the distance. “Went pretty well, I’d say,” he says. “Seemed like we was bein’ pretty honest, at least. Gave us some good stuff to work with.”

He kicks the grass at his feet idly. “So how much of that were you gonna follow through with if he didn’t snap?”

Qin remains silent for a long while, staring out into the dark as her tail twitches from time to time. “Rams are not helpless, you know,” she finally murmurs over the sound of crickets and birds making their last calls before they sleep. “If anything even looks at them the wrong way, they’ll aim a kick for the head. That thief will eventually untie himself and eat the meat. It’s probably the best food he’s seen in a while.” She bats away a fly attempting to land on her nose. “I knew how much pressure his legs could take from my weight. And even if they had broken by accident, I would have healed them quickly and cleanly.”

She twists her head, glowing eyes focusing soberly on the rogue beside her. “That’s what it means to be a Phoenix, Radoslaw. These quests that we take on are to train us, not to declare our allegiances. Nor do we fight over the decayed ruins of a city so it can change from being in one mortal’s hands to another’s. No, our true goal is much bigger than that.” She pauses for a brief moment. “Perhaps a better question is how far would you have gone through with it.”

Radoslaw blinks, his stance betraying his sudden uncertainty. “Uhh…” he feebly replies, fiddling with a rivet on his armor. “I…dunno, Qin. I’m not sure how much I could just hurt someone, you know? Killin’ someone, fast and clean, that’s one thing, but…cuttin’ on them to make them talk? I just…don’t know…”

He falls silent, looking at the ground.

“That’s what we’re here to figure out, boy.” Suddenly she lets out a jaw-stretching yawn and blinks with disinterest. “Plus I wouldn’t hurt such a good-looking man. I prefer…other activities with my play things.” She grins toothily and then glances over at the fire. “Now where did you put that other piece of meat? I’m starving.” She saunters back over to the camp, sniffing the air delicately for the food.

Radoslaw looks up, face quickly breaking in a cheery smile. “It’s all cut up for stew, Qin. Got the water boiling and what’s left of our potatoes and spices in with it…shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Well, come on then,” she urges with a touch of impatience. “I don’t want to start chewing on my own paw, boy.”

“All right, Qin, I’m coming,” he replies, and dumps the cut meat into the stew pot nestled in the growing coals of the fire. “Should be cooked enough to eat in a few minutes…I’m no fancy cook, but it’s better than trail food again.”

She sits down before the fire, nostrils flaring and tail lashing from side to side in anticipation. “I’m getting to the point where I’d gnaw on some leather if I could. Plus you know that all us night elves are used to eating moss and dirt anyways,” she comments with a flash of humor in her eyes.

Radoslaw looks sidewise at her for a few moments, then laughs. “I dunno about the dirt, but maybe the moss is why your hair’s so green,” he says, then looks thoughtful. “You ever eat raw meat, when you’re all fuzzy?”

She stares back at him steadily, licking her chops. “Do you really want to find out?”

Chuckling nervously, he ladles some of the thick stew into a bowl and all but throws it in his haste. “Here you Qin, no need for that!”

She gives a cat chortle and lays down to lap up the stew with her long pink tongue.

/waits for Pike to start drooling

My original thought had been a more evil-scientist-Dr.-Horrible kit but I can’t for the life of me find a lab coat outfit anywhere in WoW. If anyone knows where to find one, I’d love to hear about it.

This is in response to a story written by my dear friend/GL Mysthowl, who has been so patiently waiting for me to get off my lazy butt (sorry, Myst!). Please read all the episodes he’s done before delving into mine!

Today, it was in Niqora’s favor that Icecrown’s landscape boasted charcoal-gray bedrock and had more pits and craters than one could count. The weather had taken a turn for the worst in only an hour, the already cloud-choked skies darkening and whipping the snow into a frenzied blizzard. The Scourge that plagued the area did not feel the wind’s sting, but even a hardy Shu’halo could not stand it forever. As soon as she noticed that the air around her was turning white, she snatched a length of tanned leather from her bags, tossing one end to her companion Blacky while gripping the other. Blacky’s white fangs caught the strap smartly and, trotting closely together, they began to make their way towards the closest cliff.

Never releasing the strap or slowing her pace, the huntress awkwardly drew more slated-coloured rhino furs out of her packs and wrapped them around her head, arms, and torso. Her legs would have to wait until she could stop moving, hopefully somewhere out of the wind that howled around her.

The storm increased its ferocity, leaving the hunter’s hands numb and her vision nothing but a sheet of white. Guided only by Blacky’s more acute senses of smell and hearing, the pair blundered into snow drifts, snow weaseling its way into Niqora’s fur-lined armor and melting cold against her skin. Sometimes a moan of something not quite living would reach their ears, and the Shu’halo could do nothing more than toss down a slowing trap behind her and hope that whatever it was didn’t notice two black figures through the veil of snow.

She wondered how anyone could see anything in this weather after she almost ran headlong into a snow-covered boulder. A great wall of darkness loomed before them, which she hoped was the cliff they had been heading for. Floundering through the waist-high drifts that had built up against the rocks, Blacky guided them towards a shallow cave carved naturally into the stone.

Wind still tossed and swirled crystals of ice into the air but it was still less vicious in here than out there. Niqora drew more furs and blankets out of her packs, stealing glances at the storm that showed no sign of lessening.

Her dark brow furrowed as she settled on the floor beside Blacky, tucking the blankets around them both. “He will be worried,” she stated, her voice cracking from the dry air and echoing off the rocks more loudly than she had suspected. She fell silent again, and to anyone or anything that happened to tromp by within seeing distance, the two black-furred figures were merely another pile of rubble.

The blizzard seemed to rage on forever but the pair were relatively warm hidden underneath their layers of pelts. The snow built up in banks around them, which only helped to provide insulation from the wicked wind. A few times, Niqora almost dozed off from weariness, jerking awake again from the deep concern that she would never wake up again, and perhaps never be found by her beloved mate. She would then wipe away the crystals that had built up around her muzzle from her breath and tuck her hands back under the furs.

It must have been somewhere deep into the night when the gail lessened and the ice crystals were no longer falling from the sky but being blown around from drift to drift. The Shu’halo heaved the housing of pelts and snow away from their bodies, Blacky slowly raising to her feet and vigorously shaking the snow from her fur. The hunter was shaking out the furs and rolling them up again when she heard a raspy moan echo off the walls of the cave. No sooner had she snatched up her crossbow did a ghoul charge full speed through the opening, beady black eyes fixed on Niqora as its target. An arrow hissed through the air and embedded itself in the creature’s chest as Blacky quickly followed, seizing the undead’s arm in mid air and spinning them around. With a snarl, the wolf yanked hard on the arm, throwing the ghoul off balance as Niqora buried another arrow in its skull. Dashing forward with long strides, she raised her halberd high over her head and neatly removed the foe’s head from its body with a whistling thunk. Triumphantly her companion picked up the head by what little scraggly hair it had and strutted around the limp body.

The hunter smirked at her wolf as she wiped the blade off in the snow. “Enough,” she said softly, “we need to get moving.” Blacky grumbled deep in her chest and lay the head back down beside the body. The two hastily piled snow over it to conceal their kill, hopefully for long enough not to draw any more attention from the Scourge. They then began to jog at a steady pace back across the snowy flats, all the while Niqora praying to the Earth Mother that her beloved had been spared from the storm by the little valley they had camped in.

Her netherdrake Nelarus had had enough sense to take shelter from the storm as well, Niqora was pleased to note as she approached where the female drake had been perched. Ignoring Nelarus’s bewildered expression at having never endured such a blizzard before, the hunter expertly ran her hands over the great dragon, ensuring that she had not been frost-bitten or otherwise harmed. She vaulted onto the netherdrake’s back, coaxing the ever-reluctant Blacky to leap up into her lap. The poor wolf whined shrilly as Nelarus lunged skyward.

“No…” Niqora breathed as they quickly approached the camp and she could see the tent flap waving wildly in the wind with no fire lighting the surrounding snow. Nelarus’s claws had barely grazed the ground before both hunter and pet sprung off the saddle, hitting the ground running towards the tent. As she savagely yanked back the flap and saw the state of Mysthowl inside, Niqora could only cry out wordlessly and sink to her knees beside him.

Kazimierz and I decided to roll two Alliance characters a little while back to join Bloodriver’s up-and-coming Alliance sister guild, Obsidian Phoenix. My character Aroqin is a night elf druid and his character Radoslaw is a human rogue. One night we ended up role-playing a little between them and discovered they have some interesting personalities. Then one day we decided to start role-playing with them outside of the game, using Gtalk. It worked out so well that I’m posting it here for all to enjoy.

The setting is an evening at the Lakeshire inn in the Redridge Mountains.

With her back to the warm stove in the corner of the inn, Aroqin is stretched out in her cat form across the floor. Her eyes are shut and her limbs are loose and relaxed. Only the occasional twitching of her tail gives away that she may not be completely asleep.

Radoslaw takes his ease in a…less sedate manner, draped oddly over the side of a chair and playing intricate spinning games with one of his daggers. He’s almost hypnotized by the whirling emerald glow, and a silly grin is spreading slowly across his face.

The occasional muttered ‘ouch!’ can be heard, accompanied by the thud of the knife hitting the table.

The druid lazily opens a single glowing eye after one of these mutterings, fixing it on the human. “You must want to make your already short life span shorter, boy,” she mutters with a low rumble in her throat. “And one of these days I’ll decide that it’s not worth it to heal you.”

Radoslaw looks up, his guileless face lacking its customary red bandanna. “It’s only little cuts, Qin, I’m not gettin’ hurt too bad. And it’s fun!”

He snickers a little. “I guess you wouldn’t know much about that, though.”

Qin gives Radoslaw a standard cat-like withering glance, rolling over to face the stove now. “‘Fun’ is a warm fire and some peace and quiet. At least I can get one out of two.”

Totally missing the barely-veiled bard and taking the glare as a matter of course, Radoslaw continues cheerily. “That’s not fun, Qin. That’s comfy-like…although I guess old folks like doing that sort of thing too. How old are ya, anyway?”

She holds up a paw in front of the stove grate, admiring her fully-extended claws in the orange light. “Older than you can count, boy. And what exactly is your idea of ‘fun’ then, other than making yourself bleed?”

Radoslaw sits up a little straighter, adding the other knife to his flipping and twirling. “Well…sneakin’ about’s fun, ‘specially when the worst you’ll get is a broom and some shoutin’ if you’re caught. Playing dice or cards, wrestling with your buddies, swimming in the river and the lake…lots of stuff.” He flips the daggers in the air and misses them both spectacularly, the twin thunks of their landing point-first in the table echoing in the quiet of the inn. “Mostly just doing stuff because it feels good and you like it, instead of some ‘sacred duty’ or because you gotta do it to make a living.”

A wryly smile flashes briefly across Qin’s maw, quickly replaced by boredom. She lets out a large yawn that reveals her brilliant white fangs, her legs stretching out in the air and extending all of her claws. “Sure, I’ll wrestle with you,” she mumbles with disinterest.

Radoslaw finally notices the claws and blinks, worry flashing briefly over his face. “Not all catlike, you aren’t! That’s no fair at all.”

“No?” She queries innocently, ears perking up as she gazes up at him. “Would a bear be more fitting then?”

Actual fear tinges Rado’s eyes, and he stiffens, his hands suddenly still. “No. No bears!”

Her brow creases with worry and regret for a microsecond before she rolls back toward the fire, muscles exuding boredom. “Now who is no fun?” she murmurs.

A moment’s pause, and the young rogue is all cheer again, enthusiastically picking over the black-dyed armor he favors and lovingly repairing any cuts or loose threads. “So Qin…what happen to your armor when you go all fuzzy and catlike?”

She lets out a long loud sigh. “You see, when I’m a night elf and training as a druid, they put all of my animal forms inside me using magic. Then, when I want to shift, I trade my humanoid form for one of the animal ones and my armor goes with it.” She shifts a little, tail twitching. “It’s a little uncomfortable to have leather armor in you at first but you get used to it.”

Radoslaw stares wide-eyed, tilting his head. “But…where does that neat hammer-thing fit in you? It’s all big, and the gear on it moves all the time!”

Qin twists her head around to gaze at him under half-closed eyelids. “Oh, you caught me. Really, all of it goes into the Emerald Dream and I’m completely naked right now.”

Radoslaw drops his knives, eyes wide and jaw slack as he looks over the resting druid with shocked revelation.

An edge of laughter can be heard in her voice as she says, “Try not to stare too much. It will make you go blind.” Her shoulders shake in a silent chuckle as she turns back toward the stove.

He blushes brightly, but doesn’t move to pick up anything for several long moments, still watching with awe. “And you fight in the…the altogether?”

“Real cats and bears do, don’t they?” she says dryly.

“But you’re…a person! Doesn’t that feel strange?” he stammers, fiddling blindly with the needle and heavy thread in front of him.

Shifting to put her back to the fire again, she raises a furry eyebrow at him. “I’m a night elf. We always go running around just as Elune made us.”

Radoslaw stammers and blushes even more, staring with complete shock and visibly bending the needle between his fingers.

“Boy…how long have we been adventuring together and you still have not learnt what the word ‘sarcasm’ means?” She points a single claw to the needle in his hand. “You’re going to stick yourself again.”

Radoslaw looks down and drops the needle quickly, snorting indignantly. “You’re makin’ fun of me again, aren’t you? Just ’cause I’ve never been over the border and don’t know what foreign folks are like, you try to fool me.”

“It’s not my fault that you can’t tell one tone from another and naively assume everyone is telling you the truth,” she hisses with narrowed eyes. “You’re a rogue, lies and deceptions should be your forte. And did you really believe that I would walk around naked in front of you of all people, regardless of what form I’m in?”

He shrugs and fiddles with his knives. “I’m good at hidin’ and sticking knives in things…never said I was good with people. Why’d you think I got so good at sneakin’ around? And I dunno about the second part…my ma always said you people didn’t do things the same way we did.” He pauses, and adds: “‘Course, she said that about a lot of people what seemed pretty normal to me, so maybe there’s not too much to it.”

Qin snorts and lays her head down on the floor. “So now I also have to teach you how to recognize lies. And the lack of armor is just a part of druid magic, boy. Leather is made of skins like ours so it becomes part of our hides, bolstering our natural resilience.” She closes her eyes again, her brow slightly crinkled as she mumbles something about teenage boys and wandering minds.

Rado nods slightly, leaning back into his chair until it balances on two legs, his feet propped on the table. “Well…if it needs fixin’, I’m not a bad hand at patching and needlework.” He eyes the smooth fur of Aroqin’s form critically. “Does it still make it hurt less when it’s in your skin like that? Seems kinda silly to run around fightin’ without some sort of protection.”

The cat druid physically bites back a sarcastic retort, her eyes still closed. “It does dull the pain. It’s just like a layer of leather armor. Just don’t try to mend it while it’s on me or you’re liable to find an angry bear before you.”

Radoslaw nods soberly. “Course I wouldn’t try that, I’m not stupid. Just not all caught up with your…druidy stuff. We don’t have them around here.” The rogue scratches his chin, staring into the fire. “So why’d you come here? Whole world has problems right now, and I’d think you’d want to deal with your own instead of helping us.”

“…You’re not going to let me rest in peace, are you?” Not waiting for a response, she adds, “Like I said, there’s more of us shifters in Teldrassil than you can shake a tree druid at. There are few here…so it seemed like a good idea to go some place where I would be of more use.” She lifts her head up and gives him a toothy grin. “Besides, not many of them appreciate my sense of humor.”

Radoslaw looks back blankly. “I can’t imagine why,” he says, winking exaggeratedly a moment afterward. “I’m not totally in the dark about that sarcasm thing, see?”

She widens her eyes in feigned surprised. “By the white light of Elune, the boy does know how to learn!” She places a paw to her chest. “I…am completely floored.”

Radoslaw snorts, hiding a smile of his own by quickly drawing and throwing both his knives at a knot in the inn’s walls, both striking point-first within inches of the mark. “I learn more than you might think.”

“Oh do tell,” she breathes enthusiastically, perking her darkish ears straight up in the air.

He grins a little, walking to pry the knives out of the wood. “Well…I know you didn’t get that kit you wear from anyone in the Alliance.”

The druid raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “And what makes you think that?”

“Threadwork on it’s all wrong, and the materials are too…kodohide and sinew for the base of the armor, and judging from the smell it gets when it’s wet, the dye is Mulgore blackroot. No mark of craft on it, either, so it’s not from a marketplace that would have access to those kinds of stuff.”

He smiles slightly. “I haven’t been past the borders, but I do know my leatherwork.”

Qin idly watches a beetle scurry between them on the floorboards. “Perhaps I found it on the corpse of a tauren. Or maybe it was in an old chest in a hidden attic, hailing back from the times when the Horde and the Alliance worked together.” She glances up at the human.”Or maybe I won it in a game of strip poker from an old, lonely troll.”

Radoslaw shakes his head. “Not ‘less that dead tauren or troll was your twin…that armor’s tailored, special-like. Someone who could get that stuff made it for you, and no goblin merchant would put out a cuirass without a trade-mark someplace visible.”

The druid glances around nervously, eyeing the innkeeper measuredly until she decided that he’s paying them no attention. Then she sits up, giving a wide-mawed yawn. Padding over casually to the rogue’s chair, she stretches her neck up until she can whisper in his ear. “Don’t tell anyone,” she hissed quietly, “but I’m really an orc in disguise.”  With that, she curls back her lips, bearing her teeth. “See, fangs,” nodding assuredly.

Radoslaw stares for a few long moments, narrowing his eyes, then laughs a little. “You’re fooling with me again, aren’t you?”

In a fluid motion, she shifts back into her humanoid form, standing tall beside him. “What? You don’t believe that I’m a burly orc woman, green skin and all?” She flexes an arm and points at it. “Can’t you see the corded muscles in it?”

Rado chuckles, inspecting the proffered arm and darting wandering glances elsewhere. “Hah, real funny, Qin.”

She sighs softly as she notices his wandering eyes. “You’re not my type, boy. I like them big, furry, and with hooves. There’s a reason this armor is dyed with a root native to Mulgore.” She winks at him slyly.

Radoslaw blushes, then his jaw drops lightly as he tilts his head. “…how…?”

“I have one word for you…’druids’. I think your twisted imagination can figure out the rest on its own.” She flops down in the chair across the table from him, arms and legs thrown over the back and arms of the chair in a distinctly feline manner.

Almost sputtering, Rado avoids her gaze, fiddling distractedly with his knives.

She glances over at the fumbling young human. “For Elune’s sake, Rado, I haven’t bedded with a tauren. They’re nice people and all but…just no, hasn’t happened.”

Radoslaw nods with relief, then pauses for a moment. “Wait…how do you know tauren? We’re at war with the Horde…”

She leans back and rests her head on the table, her short bright green hair brushing against the wood. “I’m a druid, a member of the Cenarion Circle. And so are some of the taurens. And just because some–” She seems to recall where she is with a glance around and bites back her remark. “…Some king thinks that we should go to war with them does not mean that all of us have to participate. I’m a druid first, any alliances come second.”

Propping his head up with an arm, Radoslaw frowns slightly. “What’s this Cenarion Circle group do, then? I’ve never heard a thing about ‘em.”

Qin pauses for a moment and then twists around to look wide-eyed at him as she breathes out, “Secret druid stuff. And things.”

Rado sighs and shakes his head, looking at Aroqin with his head titled. “You ever talk straight with people, or is this you all the time?”

“Hey, when you’re centuries old, you find that there are only a few things in life that entertain you throughout the years. This is one of them.” She quickly twists around so that she’s crouched on the chair, her chin resting on her hands gripping the table. “Don’t take away my one source of happiness!” she pleads melodramatically.

Blinking, Radoslaw leans back, chuckling lightly. “All right, Qin, you win.”

In a bat of an eye, she’s relaxed and bored once again. “Of course I win. I’m female,” she states matter-a-factly. “Anyways, the Cenarion Circle is a group of druids dedicated to protecting nature and repairing the damage caused by evil forces. Any war between the Alliance and Horde is meaningless to us, except when we have to come in and clean up after you folks.”

Radoslaw nods slowly, taking in the information and not so much as batting an eyelid at the druid’s apparent mood shifts. “So…I take it you have a lot of people in Lordaeron, then?”

She pauses again for a long moment. “I wouldn’t be here if we did, boy,” she says in a low voice.

Rado blinks and edges a little away. “Something…happen to you up in the Plaguelands?”

“You don’t have to talk about it if it bothers you, ma’am, but it sounds like something’s up, and sometimes sharing helps,” he offers quietly.

She blinks earnestly at him. “What makes you think I had anything to do with the Plaguelands?”

“You…said if the Circle had lots of folk up in Lordaeron, you wouldn’t be here…”

“The people still living in Lordaeron…well, as living as they can be there…don’t quite like an Alliance, regardless of whether they’re a druid or not. They only just tolerate the tauren druids. They seem to like being as they are.” She sighs softly. “Which is a shame. It was quite the city.”

Radoslaw nods quietly, staring down at the table. “It was a grand place, they said…”

She claps her hands together loudly, sitting up straight “What’s done is done and no one wants a clean-up crew. So…here I am.” She glances at Radoslaw, adding dryly, “Spending my evening with a teenage boy. How far I have come in this life.”

Grinning, Rado gives her a thumbs-up. “Damn straight you’ve come far. You must be happy I found you!”

The night elf stares deadpanned at him. “Completely. Thrilled. Barkeep, can I have a drink? Something really strong…something dwarven.” She flips a coin to the barkeeper and watches him rummage around behind the counter.

Completely missing the sarcasm, Radoslaw likewise waves for the bartender, gulping down local ale with obvious relish. “You like dwarven stuff, huh? I thought elves were supposed to go for wine and mead and dewdrops, that sort of thing,” he asks after downing his third mug, slurring slightly over his normal drawl.

“Oooooh, the dwarven stock has taken a special place in my heart lately,” she mutters over her half-full second mug, nursing this one whereas she downed the first. “Besides dewdrops are overrated. After about the twelfth one, it tastes like you’ve eaten a whole haystack.”

Radoslaw nods, only slightly unsteady. “You should try cutting and baling hay…why do you think this stuff tastes so strong? Nothing else gets the taste of twelve hours’ worth of dust and chaff out of your mouth…”

She eyes the empty glasses sitting next to his elbow. “Except drinking until you can’t taste or feel anything any more?”

“Mmm-hmmm…nothing quite like it…” Rado mumbles, setting the fourth mug next to the others. “I think I’ll have another one…we’re rich in the service to king and country, after all,” he adds, swaying gently in his chair.

“If you have too many of those and I have to drag you to your room, I’m doing it as a bear and I can’t guarantee I’ll be gentle with you.” She takes a long sip from her mug and adds nonchalantly, “Or that you’ll be in one piece when you get there. Bears are clumsy, you know.”

Radoslaw weighs the words carefully, finally nodding and putting the coins back in his pack. “I…guess I’ve had enough, then…don’t want a headache in the morning.” He yawns sleepily and brushes a hand over his eyes. “Mmm…what’re we doing tomorrow, anyway?”

“I think you mean tonight, boy.” She rises and takes a step forward, smoothly transitioning into her lithe cat form before her other foot touches the ground. “There are Blackrock orcs up in that fortress and if we want to sneak in to kill their leader, we had best do it under the dark of night.”

Radoslaw blinks at the unpleasant realization and rises somewhat unsteadily to his feet. “Well…this isn’t gonna be fun. Why’d you let me drink that much if we were workin’ tonight?”

She sits down before him, head tilted to the side as she eyes him critically. “Well, I thought a good ol’ farm boy like you could take more than a couple a’ drinks,” she comments, mimicking his drawl.

He chuckles, visibly steadying as he buckles on his own black-dyed armor, eschewing the bandanna while still in a civilized area. “Well…you guessed right, but it’s a waste of a good buzz in any case.”

She grumbles low in her throat, spinning about and dashing out the door. “Let’s see how sober you are, boy!” she shouts over her shoulder.

Grinning, Radoslaw pulls the last strap tight and follows, sprinting with practiced vigor to follow.

So…the truth is that the reason I have not been posting here for a while is because I’ve been spending just about every spare moment during the last two months with the most incredible man on the planet (and I know he will blush violently when he reads those words). You all know him as Kazimierz. I won’t go into lots of mushy details because I don’t want everyone reading this to die from a sweetness overload. >.>

However, I would like to share one of the things he gave to me for my birthday, a poem he wrote about my very favorite character, Niqora. He’s so wonderfully eloquent. I hope you all enjoy it (although I can’t imagine everyone squeeing over it like I did).

Harken, spirits, and heed my calling
That I may speak with sageful truth
Of the tranquil towering hunter
Of the mighty Wildstride

Born to warring plains and peoples
‘Twixt hateful hooves and twisting thorns
Dwelled her kind in cruel-edged battle
Dwelled the staid Shu’halo

In bitter strife did Wildstride strengthen
Sharp of wit and bright of soul
With her aim she warded elders
With the land she made her bond

Battered from the battles many
Bleeding stood the Shu’halo
Defiant through their doomed resistance
Defiant through their people’s night

Roamed Wildstride the barren badlands
Seeking shelter for her tribe
Ever stalking safer havens
Ever charting unknown lands

And as the Horde made hasty landfall
Wildstride wandered wide and long
To the woodland deep and looming
To the depths of Feralas

There, beneath the boughs of emerald
Found Wildstride a wolf of worth
Her hide of sable hue and luster
Her eyes of brilliant topaz gleam

Patient as the peaks above her
Stalked the woods did Wildstride
With skillful eyes she tracked the wolfling
With silent stillness she bode her time

And as the wolf loped lightly near her
Near the trap the tauren set
Readied her the rhyme of ancients
Readied her to sinter souls

Whispering her heart-wish swiftly
Before the snared and snarling wolf
Niqora formed her fastest friendship
Niqora to the beast was bound

Through slogging moor and icy mountain
Wandered Wildstride again
Always seeking, ever finding
Always Blacky by her side

Across the Plagueland’s fallow fields
And through the burning Blackrock mount
There was no shoreline shunned to travel
There was no stranger she’d not aid

With canny aim and cunning prowess
They ranged to regions strange and far
None may know their deeds for number
None could call their quests in vain

And as the Horde in heated battle
Sounded summons to the fray
Ready with her wolf she answered
Ready Wildstride marched to war

Amidst the spilling soldier’s lifeblood
Skirmished swiftly Wildstride
Gentle as she mapped and scouted
Gentle as she slew her foes

Never born to blood or thunder
Still Niqora knew their ways
Without fear she served her Chieftain
Without rage she earned her due

On her war-wolf swiftly riding
With her heart-bound at her side
Feared she made her name amongst them
Feared is Wildstride by our foes

And when honor’s hold was loosened
To savage southern dusts she strode
Seeking once more sights of wonder
Seeking secrets long unheard

In the bleached and bone-strewn desert
Stirred a strange forgotten foe
Driven by the voice of madness
Driven by the Old God’s gaze

Countless came the might of mortals
To face the fearsome threat again
Many stood and fought with fury
Many died to breach the gates

Yet Wildstride would not be among them
And though the thought was naught but desperate
Went she with the band of heroes
Went she to the Old God’s lair

None know aught of all they found there
Or of the wrathful ruin wrought
By the forty fearless mortals
By those who dared defy a god

Thought the toll was cruel and costly
Stood she with those who survived
Bow your heads and give her honor
Bow to Niqora, Old God’s Bane

Not content with quiet respite
Again she dared walk distant lands
Wandered with her wolf and weapons
Wandered to a broken world

Onward through the Outland wastelands
Wildstride wandered, Blacky near
‘Cross the crumbling crust of Hellfire
‘Cross the lakes of Zangarmarsh

Through Terokkar’s tainted woodlands
Across the nascent Netherstorm
Niqora ranged with green eyes watching
Niqora to the Mag’har came

On the gale-swept ground she battled
In service to our long-sought kin
Ogre’s blood she spilled in rivers
Ogre’s fear Nagrand now knows

With honor over those in waiting
Wildstride went to serve again
To the place we formed our folly
To the blackened Shadowmoon

Through the damned of Draenor’s darkness
Niqora watched and warred and won
Stood she at the black-built temple
Stood she at the Warden’s side

Amongst the needles born of nether
Those of shackled scales she found
Abandoned by black-hearted breeders
Abandoned once, but now no more

Disdaining doomed assault and slaughter
With beguiling guise she crept
Among the slavers, sly and slinking
Among their victims, breaking bonds

And with her cunning, canny luring
A sentry’s knell Niqora knew
Free was sable-scaled Saraku
Free again to aid his kind

Made them masquerade together
Foiling fel-orcs from within
Standing steady near the slavers
Standing, soon to pounce and strike

At last, the long deception dwindled
Before Betrayer’s blinded eyes
Away they fled on flows of nether
Away, in friendship forged of flame

And through her deeds so wide and wondrous
Her chieftain’s heart had with hers held
Together with her mighty Mysthowl
Together in bliss they would dwell

Yet peace was sparse and soon abated
As the Lich-King’s languor fled
Again with gun and gentle grimness
Again went Wildstride to the fray

To Northrend went Niqora freely
Not for only honor’s sake
Fought she for the fates of many
Fought the fallen, for their souls

At Angrathar she marched with honor
With the vanguard’s vengeful charge
Watched her Saurfang’s final challenge
Watched her Putress betray us all

And when the Warchief, ever watchful
With Sylvanus purged the halls
Niqora with the Kor’kron sallied
Niqora close beside them fought

Always seeking strange new visions
Through northern wilds Niqora strode
Finding friends to aid in battle
Finding sights of beauty deep

And when her clan with calm-set faces
Marched to slay the Lich-King’s pawn
With them Wildstride was stalking
With her, they felled dark Kel’thuzad

Bathed in honor bright and shining
She was granted duty great
Ambassador, of all our peoples
Ambassador to the Crusade’s call

Rose Wildstride through all aspiring
Skilled with lance and shield and bow
Until the Crusade called her sister
Until a Champion she was named

Now new terror haunts the northlands
Sibling spawn of dread C’thun
Dauntless, Wildstride advances
Dauntless delves to Ulduar

Hunts she now the ancient evil
Leading those who call her friend
Seeking through the Titan’s prison
Seeking dreadful Yogg-Saron

All who call her captain honor
Brave and valiant Wildstride
Always with her black-furred packmate
Always patient, always strong

Harken, spirits, and heed my calling
That I may swear with solemn vows
Of the truth of all I’ve spoken
Of the tale of Wildstride

That is what my tauren said to me the first day, when we stood on a windy ledge before another netherdrake disguised as a blood elf. I would not forget the way her eyes held my gaze as she spoke, because I would see that same glint in them every morning after. She did not speak those words again but then she did not need to. My choice was my own and only my own. At a moment’s whim, I could have flown away from Netherwing Ledge, away from Shadowmoon Valley, and I would have never had to return. She would not judge, she would not argue. My life was my own now, as she said it.

At first it was confusion that made me follow her back to the Ledge. The blood-elf-drake spoke of things that would only make sense much later, and all the while he looked down his nose at me with pity and frustration. My tauren, on the other hand, had been giving me the same gentle care that she gave her wolf Blacky and without my slaver, I was at a loss for what to do. She also cooked better food than I had ever tasted in my life. Merely thinking of her feltail delight made me drool.

I stared at her for a long moment when she said those words to me, not understanding what they meant. But I knew I was not allowed to ask any questions so I simply nodded my head. The blood-elf-drake then spoke some words to her and handed her a small metallic object. As soon as it brushed her fingertips, my tauren was gone and a slaver I had never seen before stood in her place. I shied away abruptly, fearing that another slaver had finally come to beat me for losing the first one. Then the slaver dropped the object as if it was burning him and just as suddenly my tauren was back. She dashed over to me and reached up to softly hold my head in her hands as she explained very patiently how it had simply been an illusion, nothing more. Once I had calmed down and understood what was happening, she scooped up the object to transform once again. She and the blood-elf-drake worked efficiently to secure already prepared packs to my back while Blacky weaved in and out under my legs. Before she heaved herself up on my back in a rather ungraceful manner, she bent over to give her wolf a tight hug who whined mournfully in response, to which my tauren whispered something softly in the beast’s ear. The Nether stirred itself forcefully the instant I snapped open my wings and threw us over the void.

The slavers were none the wiser of who my tauren really was, but seemed content with giving her menial tasks and then dismissing her with a crude grunt. Blacky joined us on the island sometime during the night, materializing out of the shadows with a wolfish grin that made my tauren laugh heartily.

“It is this gift she has,” she explained to me with a similar grin after she had finished hugging her pet and had noticed my startled expression.

The mundane tasks my tauren did each day appeared strange to me but soon she explained that her purpose–our purpose–was to sabotage the slavers from within. My part to play was not only to be her means of flying, but also her guide and sentry when her attention was otherwise on her mission.

At the time, I did not appreciate or understand her work as she did…it was our meals that were the highlights for me. She would make a small smokeless fire and the three of us would gather around it as she passed around whatever food that a certain netherdrake-disguised-as-a-goblin had smuggled to her that day. It was never the same thing twice but every meal was as tasty as the last. These were also the times when she would explain everything she did that day, why she did it, and then she would finish up with a tale of her own experiences before coming to the Netherwing Ledge. Slowly, under her careful encouragement, I began talking as well and asking questions.

One of the first questions I asked was if she was my new slaver.

Her stone green eyes widened at my words and she waved her hands at me frantically. “No no no, Saraku. I am not your new slaver, and never again shall you be a slave. You have your freedom now just as I or Blacky does. You need not listen to anyone’s orders anymore, not a slaver’s or even my own.”

“But you do the slavers’ tasks, you listen to their orders. Which is the orders that blood elf gave you. And Blacky listens to your orders,” I pointed out around a mouthful of grilled mudfish.

“It is my choice to follow those orders, because what I want to do is to help you and the other netherdrakes. If I did not want that, then I would not listen, and I would fight them tooth and nail if they tried to force me to do them. Blacky listens to me because she is my dearest friend and she wants to protect me as I protect her. If it was what she wanted, she could try to attack me and chew on my bones as her next meal, but she does not want that.” Smiling wryly at her wolf, my tauren added, “At least I hope that she does not want to do that.” Blacky huffed indignantly and cracked the large talbuk bone she had been chewing on as if to prove a point. My tauren laughed in response.

I scratched an itch under my chin with my right foreclaw. “So Blacky is your wolf, your pet, your friend, and you are her hunter, her friend as well. Then what am I to you?”

My tauren prodded the fire with a small thin stick, stirring up the ashes and sparks that floated up high into the night sky. “You are my guide, my drake, and if I may call you so, also my friend,” she said gently, eyes drifting from the flames to meet my gaze.

This concept of having a friend…I turned it over in my mind with a facination of someone who had just discovered a strangely brilliant gem hidden among dull grey stones. “So to me,” I mumbled slowly, “you are my friend, my rider, my…tauren.”

Her face broke out in a smile and she chuckled softly, her eyes lit with humor. “If that is what you wish me to be, Saraku. I would be honored to be all of those, especially your tauren.” She bowed to me awkwardly from her seated position and I could not help but return her infectiously good mood with a smile of my own, even though I was not quite sure what the joke was. It was then that she told me her first story of how she had met the blood-elf-drake and in joining the Netherwings in their cause, came to meet me. And it was also then that I realized, without even knowing what I had been doing, I had made the right choice and made my own dearest friend.

Flying was easy when I didn’t have to fight with bursts of updrafts or invisible swirls of air. The laziness of the Nether seemed to sink into my slaver on my back, who did not whip me when I began to veer off course. I was too busy daydreaming of juicy mutton to notice myself that I was straying from my normal flight course to the Dragonmaw fortress. There was a sudden grunt of surprise from my slaver when he realized this, causing me to blink and throw back my head a little in my own surprise. I readied myself for the whip but felt none, instead he leaned forward in his seat to direct me downwards. It took me a moment to realize what he had found so intriguing: we were at the edge of the mainland and one of the many caves overlooking the Nether had a tendril of smoke spiraling lazily out of it. My wings beat faster; I was curious as to what this was. I caught a whiff of it, my stomach rumbled again. It wasn’t mutton but it smelled delicious. Whatever it was, it had to be good.

There was a small outstretch of land in front of the cave before it plunged deep into the Nether. I landed on it softly, my wings only stirring up a small amount of the heavy Shadowmoon dust. My slaver slide off my back with surprising silence; there was no usual whuff of the landing knocking air from his lungs. My head cocked to the side, I watched him with intense curiousity as he padded carefully towards the dark cave entrance. I hoped he wasn’t going to eat all the food without me.

A small shuffling noise inside the cave made him freeze where he was, his gaze fixed solidly on the thick darkness. I wondered if staring really hard gave him the ability to see in the dark.

The air burst into screaming and I reared up on my hind legs in surprise, wings spread wide. The screaming ended swiftly with two arrows sprouting from the center of my slaver’s chest. For a fraction of a second, he simply stood there. Then his sword was in his hand and he roared, but his roar was met by a deep snarl as something large and black barreled out of the cave and squarely into him. He staggered back, regaining his balance too late as a flash of white teeth opened up his arm and deep red blood surged down his armor. Another arrow flew past his neck, opening up another stream of blood on his right side. He thrust the sword forward and it caught the black creature on the leg, opening up a red gash in the coal coloured fur. A voice echoed from the cave, low and musical, speaking words that felt old and powerful. I watched with widened eyes as the wound on the creature stopped bleeding and began to close up on its own. Yet another arrow embedded itself in my slaver’s leg and I could hear the bony crunch come from his knee. He roared again, in pain this time as he fell. White teeth snapped at his throat. Then he lay still.

The dark-furred beast turned back towards the cave, limping and whimpering softly. Another creature materialized from the darkness–no, not a beast, but a humanoid, standing tall on two hoofed feet and the same colour as the beast…the same colour as my own scales. It feel down to its knees before the beast and for a moment I thought it was hurt. As my forelegs came down to touch the ground and my wings pulled themselves shut, I realized that the humanoid was healing the beast with the same strange words that had been spoken from the cave before. The cut on the beast’s hip closed easily, not leaving so much as a scar.

They both stared up at me then, the humanoid rising once again to its feet. It was the eyes that drew me the most. They did not glow red like the slavers’ nor a bluish-white like my own. In fact, they did not glow at all but dimly reflected the natural light back at me. They reminded me of a stone my slaver found once, a deep green one that always carried a little light in it no matter how dark the sky got. I wondered what if it hurt to have stones for eyes; I know my own eyes hurt when I got just sand in them.

The eyes flickered briefly to my slaver, and I followed that gaze. He was as he was before, albeit the pool of blood around him was getting bigger. I stared at him for a long moment to see if he would stand, twitch, or even breathe, but he did none of those. As I stared, I heard the soft thuds of the humanoids footsteps draw towards him and then it entered my vision. It gazed at him for a long moment too then brought its gaze to meet mine. I could only stare back at it blankly.

Carefully it nudged him a little, glancing at me for some sort of reaction. I gave none. The creature padded over and together they dragged and rolled him along the ground to the edge of the cliff. Throwing me one last look, they gave him a finally shove and he disappeared with a cloud of dust. I blinked. No one came back from the Nether.

The humanoid squatted and set to work cleaning up the blood and the drag marks. When it stood again, I could not tell where either had been.

“Are you hungry?”

I blinked again and stared at the humanoid. It was not a command but a genuine question. An expression came to light on its strangely elongated face, one that was comforting yet sad at the same time. I felt as though I had just seen something I had never experienced, but had always been searching for.

“There is meat and fish inside the cave,” it said again softly when I did not respond, the low voice beckoning.

My stomach gurgled loudly, answering for itself.

The humanoid’s expression formed what must have been a smile, but it was not hard like a slaver’s smile and reached all the way to its green stone eyes. It turned and made its way over to the cave with the beast bounding at its side. I found myself following in stride.

So over the past couple of weeks, I’ve had time to think about all I’ve heard about the next expansion. No, I don’t have any juicy new rumors to leak out to everyone. All I have are my opinions on the new content.

One that seems to have caused the most controversy is the new race/class combinations. Now gnome priests and dwarf shamans don’t seem to be that outrageous to a good number of people…but the very mention of “tauren paladins” seem to make everyone foam at the mouth. They cry out “lore rape” and that Blizzard has gone too far and whip themselves up into a frenzy.

I’d have to disagree. It makes perfect sense to me. Here’s my reasoning.

One thing people have pointed out is that taurens have never been paladins, hence the lore rape. But Blizzard isn’t going back and changing the lore to say “Hey, we found this rogue group of tauren paladins in Tanaris and they’ve come to join the Horde.” No, what’s happening here is that tauren culture is evolving. Think about it. After being isolated for who knows how many centuries on Azeroth (with only the centaur to interact with, and fight for that matter), in the last five years or so they have allied themselves with 4 other races and have found their possible ancestors (the Taunka) in Northrend. Any interaction with a new race and culture is bound to change anyone’s views on life.

I’m not saying that the tauren have turned their backs on what they’ve always believed in. They are not the type of people to do that. Nor are they like the blood elves, stealing Naaru for their own purposes. But they are a people always seeking balance, like the balance of nature. Now the taurens worship the Earth Mother, who they see as the creator of everything, including them. She is considered a sort of universal consciousness, a multi-faceted gem whose sides represent different elements or parts of nature. She is also seen in the sky. From Wowwiki:

The sun (An’she) and moon (Mu’sha) are her eyes.

Mu’sha, the moon, is often associated with the tauren druids (Moonglade, moonkin, the night elf druids worshipping Elune, etc.). An’she on the other hand seems to be missing from the various tauren classes. The aspect of the sun is missing from tauren culture. Don’t believe me? If you have a Horde character, travel to Elder Rise in Thunder Bluff and look for Tahu Sagewind and Aponi Brightmane. If you don’t have a Horde character, here is the conversation they have (P.S. the An Injured Colleague quests leads you to this pair as well):

Aponi Brightmane says: I see that thoughtful frown, Tahu.
Tahu Sagewind says: Sorry, sister. It’s nothing to worry about.
Aponi Brightmane says: But something is on your mind, right?
Tahu Sagewind says: I’m thinking about the front to the north. The one you’re so eager to return to.
Aponi Brightmane says: What about it?
Tahu Sagewind says: I know I’m counseling patience, Aponi, but I don’t like remaining here any more than you do. Times are bleak, and failing to act only makes me worry that my idle hand may have been the one to turn the tide.
Aponi Brightmane says: Talk to me, Tahu. Something. Anything! I’m going stir-crazy.
Tahu Sagewind laughs softly.
Tahu Sagewind says: All right, Aponi. I’ve enough on my mind to share. Have you ever spoken to the elves of Moonglade?
Aponi Brightmane says: Not much.
Tahu Sagewind says: The elves speak of a moon goddess, did you know? They put great stock in the light given by the moon.
Aponi Brightmane says: Like Mu’sha.
Tahu Sagewind says: Just like her. The parallels I’ve heard are interesting. And it’s no secret all druids, Shu’halo and elf alike, can call upon Mu’sha’s light.
Aponi Brightmane says: Where are you going with this?
Tahu Sagewind says: I wonder. Hamuul has guided us well, and I’ve learned so much from him. The legends say that our people were druids when time began…
Aponi Brightmane says: I hear the “but” in your voice…
Tahu Sagewind says: …but what Hamuul teaches is what the elves know. The night elves. They put such stock in their moon goddess, as creatures of the night.
Aponi Brightmane says: Do you think his teachings are wrong?
Tahu Sagewind says: No! No, nothing like that. He is an elder for good reason, sister. Mu’sha is one of the Earthmother’s eyes, and she watches over us. That isn’t sinister.
Tahu Sagewind says: But we’re nothing if not people who strive for balance. Our warriors fight only when there is need. Our hunters take only what the tribes require to live, and use all they can when they do. The shaman stand as guide and mediator to the elemental spirits.
Tahu Sagewind says: And while we, as druids, are guardians of nature, I wonder if we’ve overlooked a key aspect of balance in all things.
Aponi Brightmane says: So are you going to bring this up to the elder?
Tahu Sagewind says: No, no. No need for him to trouble about a student’s idle philosophizing while he entertains a friend.
Aponi Brightmane says: I suppose so. It’s not silly, though, what you said.
Tahu Sagewind says: Well, it isn’t exactly a new thought, sister.

During this conversation, Tahu summons images of first the moon, then the sun, overlaping them in an eclipse. I believe he has a very valid point. An’she has been overlooked and it’s time to change that. As he says, it’s not a new thought and has probably been in the back of some taurens minds for a long time. And now that the tauren have seen and fought beside the blood elf paladins, why not incorporate that into their lives in their own way?

I’ve heard some argue that paladins use holy energy, which makes a lot of people think of churches and crosses. I’m not going to delve into a religious debate but let’s just say that “holy” is a matter of perception. Taurens believe that the world around them is sacred, and part of that world is the sun. Why would that aspect not give them “holy” power in the form of light? Isn’t that what paladins really are, warriors of the Light?

So as you can see, in my mind tauren paladins are certainly not a stretch, but merely a progression of culture and ideas coming to life. I’d say that it’s about time that they’ve discovered that there was a imbalance in their lives.

Anyone who’s had any experience roleplaying in WoW have seen them. As labeled by my guild, they are the werewolf vampire dragon blood elf shaman warlocks who always seem to be hanging around in Silvermoon or Goldshire in skimpy outfits.

Sadly, it’s these people who give the real roleplayers a bad name, which in turn frustrates us. Because not only do we have to deal with these people, but also the RP griefers, the god moders, and the out-in-the-open ERPs. (I have no problem with erotic roleplayers in general but for pete sake, keep it to whispers. There are little children playing this game too.)

Having said that, I should tell you that I roleplay Saraku as a dragon. As mentioned above, this is generally a big no-no. However, I seemed to have pulled it off successfully, at least according to the people I have asked.

The biggest rule to remember when roleplaying in WoW is: Keep within the confines of the game. Let me go into more detail of how I did it with Saraku.

He’s a netherdrake.

Netherdrakes are seen most often in the game as mounts, working in close association with adventurers to fly them to remote places. It’s gotten to the point where it’s not even unusual to see them. They are not above getting down and dirty to get the job done. I’m not saying that other dragons are uppity, but in general they are more worried about the larger picture. I believe it’s still possible to roleplay another type of dragon but if I had to choose one that would make the most sense as an adventurer, it would be netherdrakes.

He’s not a dragon of uber pwnage.

When Saraku is in human form, he’s confined to the same restrictions that any other player character would be. He can’t breathe fire or tear a man apart with his bare hands or shoot lasers from his eyes. For fighting purposes, he is just another blood elf. He can be bruised, beaten, slashed, and killed just like anyone else of his class and level.

Saraku is also a young dragon who’s very naive. Having been raised as a slave, with all his needs taken care of by his slavers, all he really needed to know was how to fly them around when needed. Once he became Niqora’s charge, she took over feeding and taking care of him. In dragon form, he wouldn’t even know how to hunt, much less how to fight anything.

He can’t change on a whim.

At this point, he can’t change in while in Azeroth at all. To neatly explain away why, I decided that he needs certain energies in order to be a dragon. In this case, he needs either the nether energies in the Outlands, or the auroras in Northrend. Of course once Cataclysm comes out, I’ll most likely have to find a reason for him to now be able to fly in Azeroth.

He also can’t change into a dragon to rip things to shreds. For one thing, the change between the two forms leaves him vulnerable so it would not be a good idea to shift in the middle of a fight. Also, by the time he got to the Outlands, his blood elf form was stronger and more experienced at fighting than his dragon form. At this point in his life, he is comfortable in the blood elf skin and will probably not attempt to change back for a while.

He has a reason to be in humanoid form.

Why take the form of a less powerful species when you can just scorch your enemies in one pass? Saraku has two reasons. For one, he greatly admires Niqora, who freed him from slavery in Shadowmoon Valley. She has been the only real friend he has had, and his inspiration to see what it’s like to be a humanoid. In addition, he became intensely curious about life as a humanoid and what Azeroth was like. He has a wanderlust just as she does and since the only way he could see Azeroth was to become a humanoid…well, the result is obvious.

More recently, he has also thought of returning to his birthplace in the Netherwing Ledge and freeing some of his kind who are still slaves there. He could not accomplish this as a dragon, as I doubt the Dragonmaw orc disguise would work that well. Hence just another reason to be a blood elf.

He’s no one important.

There are other dragons in the game who can change into humanoids so Saraku is not an unusual case. And he is not the Commander of the Netherwing flight, or the bastard son of Alexstrasza and the Lich King (I don’t know how that would be possible even, nevermind make him a netherdrake). In essence, he’s merely another adventurer on a mission to help fix some problems in the world. He has realized, through Niqora and his own work, that you don’t have to be someone special to make a difference.

I did research before creating him.

You don’t have to be a lore nerd in order to come up with a decent background for your character but you do have to know something about where they come from. For example, when deciding his name, I did some searching and discovered that netherdrakes often end their names in “-aku” or “-us”. After some playing around with different letters and sounds, I came up with Saraku, which I think rolls nicely off the tongue and sounds natural. If I had went with a red dragon-type name, the character wouldn’t have made any sense.

I have to admit that I’m not the one who came up with the basic idea in the first place. While I was playing Niqo, I would imagine Saraku’s personality and the conversations the two of them would have as they flew around the Outlands. I had wanted to roleplay him in dragon form as a companion of Niqo’s (like how I roleplay with my pets) but I never seemed to find the opportunity to. Then one day a guild mate mentioned how an alt they had rolled was a nether drake in disguise and I said “BRILLIANT!” and then asked if I could steal the idea for Saraku.

I do love playing him though. He’s so naive and literal minded that I can usually make my guildmates laugh with his antics. So far I’ve had no one grieve me over the fact that he’s a dragon. So I’m assuming that I’ve successfully created a character that side-steps the whole “werewolf vampire dragon blood elf shaman warlocks” taboo.

And no, he does not turn back into a dragon to do the nasty. Anyone on a RP server will know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, read this from Rotten Apples (NSFW).

Does anyone have any comments/tips/rants about this post? Please post them, I want to hear your views.

This is an ongoing roleplay between Ticalos and my warlock bank alt, Valraen. The posts have been posted from emails between Tic and me. The post with (T) beside them are written by Tic, the ones with (V) beside them have been written by myself. All credit goes to Tic for coming up with the amusing titles.

To keep track of new posts, watch Ticalos’s blog or follow me on Twitter and watch for the #Ticalos tweets.

1. A Night at the Auction House (T)
2. The North (T)
3. Valraen’s Plight (V)
4. Message Delivered (T)
5. Ticalos the Protector? (V)
6. A gift for Valraen (T)
7. A gift unwelcomed (V)
8. Alms for the…poor? (T)
9. How dare he! (V)
10. Deliberate Hostilities (T)
11. The Fiend (V)
12. Doing things her own way (V)
13. The Hunter becomes the Hunted (T)
14. Shacking Up? (T)
15. Soap Opera or How did I manage to be in the bath with a Death Knight in the room? (V)
16. Hand me a towel (T)
17. A Fireside Chat (V)
18. Fight or Flight or…A Rose by any other name is still a Feather (T)
19. Lullaby and Goodnight…. (V)
20. Promises in the Dark (T)
21. To Sleep Per Chance to… (V)
22. Ride out…or..I’ll be really surprised if you wear this (T)
23. Dressing for the Part… or…..Wow, she actually wore it!!! (V)