The Blood Colored Lion of Mountain Size

With apologies for possibly God-Modding the most famous WOW Hunter on the net…

Rainchaser stepped outside the inn and breathed deeply.  She loved Ratchet, loved the sea salt smell, the curried eggs she’d had for breakfast and the cool winds that blew in off the Merchant Coast.  She felt Windpaw pad up behind her and rub up against the back of her legs.

“It’s a beautiful morning isn’t it boy?” She said sleepily, reaching down to scratch his neck.  Windpaw didn’t reply, but Rain’ could tell from the stiffness of his body that something was wrong.  He was perfectly still, body pointer straight, looking back down the hill towards the docks.

Alliance – and an impressive one.  It was a dwarf – red bearded, burly and as stout as an iron wood stump.  Rain’ kept a calming hand on Windpaw’s flank as the newcomer and his companion beast moved through town and then up the short hill toward the inn.

This one had the look of a fighter – of a marksman of some renown.  His mail battle armor was of exquisite make and showed signs of hard, even recent use.  The twin blades he wore at his belt cast a rippling emerald glow, visible even in the red cast of the early morning sun.  And the cat…Huge.

Rainchaser had fought against and even worked alongside Alliance Hunters in the past.  Their companion animals had always been a comfortable middle ground that each respected regardless of faction.  But this beast…Magnificent, he was one of the rare blue striped Frostsabers from northern Winterspring – an Alpha no doubt.  He was massive through the shoulders, with a powerful chest and fangs long enough to pierce a melon and come out the other side.  He was easily as big as Cinnamon, Rain’s riding wolf.

As the big cat neared, Rain’ greeted him with the Earthmother’s Sign and a friendly, but dominant posture.  The giant white cat rumbled deep in its throat and the look he gave her was wild and violent.  Rainchaser turned her head slightly and averted her eyes in a submissive gesture meant to calm the beast.  She heard the Dwarf say something to the big cat and the threatening growl stopped.  She felt Windpaw, still pressed tightly against the back of her legs, peer fearfully at the new comers.

“Coward,” Rainchaser muttered at him.  Windpaw whined quietly in reply.

Rain’ pointedly looked back at the Dwarf as he strode toward her.  While he was dressed for war, his massive Nesingwary 4000 was slung peaceably over one shoulder.  He regarded Rainchaser for a long moment and seemed to come to some decision.  It didn’t make him happy she could tell.  So it was a surprise when he nodded his head to her and clumsily made the Sign of the Earthmother in return.  He pointed to himself with a gnarled thumb and said in barbarically accented Taurahe:

<taurahe> I greet you.  I am called Blood Colored Lion of Mountain Size. <taurahe>

It took Rainchaser a moment to work through the brutalized words, then she nodded and gestured to herself.

<taurahe> I greet you.  I am She Who Chases the Rain. <taurahe>

The Dwarf , this Blood Colored Lion of Mountain Size, paused and she could see him working furiously to process her words.  Finally he seemed to finish some inner debate and replied.

<taurahe> Yes…She Who Chases the Rain, thank you – I need assistance. <taurahe>

Rainchaser nodded amiably and noticed that the Dwarf wore the device of an Alliance Lieutenant Commander of troops.  Blood Colored Lion of Mountain Size muttered something to himself, looked pained and then spoke haltingly.

<taurahe> She Who Chases the Rain, I seek the tillers of your Mother’s soil. <taurahe>

Rainchaser blinked and had to catch her jaw before it dropped open in surprise.  What the Dwarf had said was slang – an insult of monstrous proportions.  But his demeanor was pained, not insulting, he seemed almost embarrassed.  Rainchaser bit back the response that was trying to work its way out and clenched her fists slowly to avoid reaching for a blade.

<taurahe> I’m sorry Blood Colored Lion of Mountain Size, I do not understand. <taurahe>

The Dwarf’s return frown was truly mountain sized.  He removed his helm and scratched at his head.  he closed his eyes in thought and slowly tried again.

<taurahe> She Who Chases the Rain, my Gathering Shaft seeks those that plow your mother so it can know great success. <taurahe>

This time a small sound of shock escaped from Rain’s mouth.  Had this newcomer been another Tauren, Rainchaser would have immediately put an arrow through his throat.  The Dwarf blinked at her, he looked earnest and hopeful, his fierce war helm clutched before him miserably like a beggar’s hat.

With a tone reserved for naughty colts, Rainchaser replied stiffly.

<taurahe> I’m sorry, I do not understand. <taurahe>

The Dwarf swore, something that required no translation.  He ran a gauntlet covered hand through his hair and uttered a soldier’s curse commonly heard on the battlefields of Alterac.

<orcish> Bah, stupid fat cow! <orcish>

The insult was clear, the accent perfect.  Nonplussed, Rainchaser replied immediately in the same language.

<orcish> Ah! You speak the Orc tongue? <orcish>

Surprised and not at all embarrassed at his insult being caught, the Dwarf nodded vigorously.

“Aye – I do! “

“Throm’Ka  Hunter – what do you seek?” She asked.

“Aka’Magosh, Tauren – I seek worms for bait.  I stalk the Fish of Change that live in the waters farther inland. “

Rainchaser couldn’t help but laugh.  Tillers of her Mother’s Soil indeed.

“Yes!  The goblin called Ranik in the General Goods Store, he will sell you many kinds of bait.”

Delighted, Blood Colored Lion of Mountain Size thanked Rainchaser and bid her a friendly farewell.  Chuckling, Rainchaser knelt down and began to soothe the flustered and embarrassed Windpaw.  As she gentled the black wolf, Wiley, the goblin Innkeeper walked up behind her, a cigar clamped in his teeth.

“Oy, alright Rain’?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied.  “Just doing some cross faction ambassadorial duties with a Hero of the Alliance.”

Wiley seemed impressed and a little scandalized.  He snorted.

“Hero indeed, he didn’t even buy a beer from me.  Who was he?  What did he want?”

“I think his name means Big Red Cat or some such.  He was looking for worms, he’s going fishing.”

Disgusted, Wiley shook his head.

“I have no words – didn’t even buy a beer,” he muttered and wandered back into the inn.

~ by Windpaw on January 13, 2009.