World of Westerncraft (I)

15 Mar

Mulgore Plains – Free Kalimdor
210 years after Cataclysm
50 years after the Sundering

Captain (retired) Nathan Woodrow, late of the Kalimdor Free Cavalry stared down at the milling herd of kodo with something close to contentment.  There were at least 200 of the beasts, complete with a fine pair of bulls and a train of honking, complaining calves spread out in the valley below him.  It was spring in Mulgore and the soldier turned ranch owner had spent a long and worried winter moving the herd from the feed lots outside of New Ogrimmar, across the Barrens and into the 1800 acres of mesa and rolling Mulgore prairie that was his.

From his vantage point, a small bluff overlooking about a quarter of his usable pasture, Woodrow watched as his ranch hands, a collection of professional kodo-punchers and former soldiers, worked the herd.  Most of them were moving the bulk of the kodo to higher pastures so the lower could be cut for hay.  But a smaller group of riders were pulling out several young males and one big grumpy matriarch, splitting them from the herd and leading them back down toward the makeshift corral of stacked stone and timber they’d built the previous week.

“My tribute offering,” the Captain muttered to the wind and glanced off to the east where a trio of riders were moving toward him with purpose.  Woodrow spared a look at his pocket watch and then shifted in the saddle.

“Leave it to old Bearclaw to show up on time when there’s something in it for him.”

Woodrow turned Trebuchet, his favorite war horse from the old days, down slope with a gentle nudge of heel and thigh, to greet the approaching riders.  The big red blew once when he noticed the trio coming up the hill towards them and stamped.  Nathan grinned behind the distinctly non regulation handlebars of his steel gray mustache and slapped the warhorse affectionately.

“No charge today, lad.  We’re both retired.”

####

(more after lunch – assuming work allows)

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