A tale of two lives - part two

Chapter One – Sniggels and Sorcery

Ig’natz dodged the half full mug of mulled wine that came hurtling at him like a well aimed missile, only to miss him and crash against the doorknob next to his head. As usual, Natani was fast, but he was faster…

“And move faster next time I call you stupid Sniggel…” he heard shouted at him through the, now closed door. Turning, he started back down the steps that lead to the tower study…

…Only to trip over Fuzgig, his pet nocturnem, which had followed him up the stairs…and down they went sniggel, nocturnem and the tray of empty dishes; tumbling down the steps and landing in a heap of green skin, white fuz and broken dishes at the bottom of the first landing. Ig’natz had worked in the tower ever since he was forced in to servitude, by the elves, as a young orcling. Fuzgig, a sort of furless albino cat with small hands, only much sneakier than any cat, had been his only friend; and she loved to play jokes on “Iggy.”

Iggy bent over and picked up the broken shards with calloused hands and thrust them into the deep pockets of the threadbare smock he wore. Taking the ever-present cleaning rag out of his back pocket, he wiped the obsidian steps free of any remnants of food. Snatching up the remaining dishes in one hand and Fuzgig in the other, he made his way back down the steps. Turning to the right he pushed his way through the door to the crowded kitchen. The shards were promptly tossed into the garbage, Fuzgig tossed into a chair and the dishes tossed into the waiting dishwater. Fuzgig set about washing the mountain of dishes for the household he served, a task that was as endless as his servitude.



The moment the door slammed closed behind the household sniggel Iggy, the lithe elf priestess that sat behind the field of mahogany shimmered and began to shift. An altogether different Natani arouse from her desk than was sitting behind it a moment before. A master of illusion, she let the image of her former self, an illusion she had build up over the years, fall away now that she was alone. Grabbing what was left of the bottle of wine, she strode to the window of her tower. She stood there admiring the view from high above the edge of the city. Her loud belch reverberated off the walls of her office as Natani took another gulp of mulled wine. To call her an elf was almost a misnomer. She had grown up with comments such as “You move pretty fast for such a big woman.” She worked hard to overcome such oppressions…whether by hard work on her weight (at which she did not excel) or by violence directed toward those who dared insult her (at which she did excel). As a result she grew up without many friends. If indeed it can be said that any true friendships ever existed amongst elves. Even what passed for friendships were rare occurrences in her younger years. Others were either afraid to become her friend, or afraid to end up disappearing like some of those who had become her friend and teased her about her looks once too often. It had been the affect of her appearance on her life that had been the driving factor in Natani excelling in both sorcery and clerical magic…and the youngest priestess ever to become a teacher. She passed through the academy in record time…record time, that is, until little Kimi Gozen entered the academy. Kimi went through classes so fast that she actually caught up with her older sister Tomoe.

Tomoe and Natani had grown up together. Tomoe had been the closest she had ever come to a friend. They were members of rival houses but had become friends anyway. Unusual for dark elves but not unheard of. What Natani had found so unusual about Tomoe in the first place is that she was probably the only dark elf she ever met that didn’t have some sort of hidden agenda. The entire rest of the House Gozen was another matter however…they were ever greedy for power and prestige….they fit right in with all of the other elves. In fact, it was for this very reason that, until just recently Tomoe didn’t even know she had a younger sister. Kimi Gozen had shown absolutely no aptitude for clerical magic and had been incapable of anything even approximating sorcery. Very odd for a dark elf female. And so…House Gozen had disowned Kimi. Completely. She was thought to be a disgrace to the household, and the Matron had her wisked away to be raised by a minor branch of the house. Until the day that little Kimi Gozen came of age…

…when that day came…that disgusting day, thought Natani, as she continued to gaze out her study window…when the day came that Kimi Gozen had proven to be a “late bloomer” and had not only shown herself to be proficient at magic, but even excelled at it, suddenly she was taken back into the good graces of the Matron of House Gozen. She was immediately enrolled in the academy to become another priestess for the goddess their Clan. When Tomoe not only discovered that she had a sister, but that she would be attending classes with her, she was overjoyed. Tomoe and Kimi became inseparable. “Tomoe pushed me aside” Natani said to the night air…for she was certainly alone. She tried everything she could think of to drive a wedge between the two sisters. Intrigue, innuendo and outright treachery. She had even risked her place in the academy and standing with Lolth when she used her position to influence Tomoe’s counselor at the academy. Nothing availed her. Then the Head Matron of the academy assigned her to teach the senior class in combat magic. On the first day of class…there they sat…Tomoe and Kimi side by side. She had to look at the two of them for the entire year. Or so she thought…

There was no way, Natani thought, that the two sisters could not have known she was trying to drive them apart. In the end, she was right. She took another gulp of mulled wine, remembering the day that they confronted her…her…Natani Migonin. They threatened to go to the head of the academy to tell her about Natani’s treachery…trying everything that she could to deprive House Gozen of another high priestess. She denied it of course. In the end she convinced Tomoe of her sincerity but she knew Kimi would never believe her. Everything went on apace at the academy, as it should. The end of the school year and finals approached. That meant field practicum for her class in battle magic. Natani saw her chance…the chance to drive the two sisters apart forever. Jealousy reared its ugly green head…as green as the household sniggel that crossed her field of vision as she looked out of the window into the courtyard below. Ig’natz was headed for the door that opened onto the servants quarters. The scurrying little sniggel snapped her out of her reverie. Natani took that last gulp of wine, carefully judged the distance and the affect of the wind…and hurled the wine bottle with all her strength. Just as the sniggel reached for the handle of the door the bottle came crashing down on his head…Iggy dropped in his tracks. “Either I am getting faster,” Natani said to herself, “…or the sniggel is getting slower.”

A tale of Two Lives

Authors Note: This is a new story I am starting. It DOES NOT take place in the Warcraft Setting. As I write the story we will explore the world togther.

A Tale of Two Lives
By Juliemarie WhiteFeather
© 2006 Juliemarie WhiteFeather
All rights reserved


Prelude - A Mother's Love


Tatsumi sat by the fire with a large tome in her hand. The evening sun peaked over the mountains behind her home, it’s last rays casting long shadows over the living room floor. Once again she dipped her pen in the ink well and set the last words down on paper…

Her reflexes were no longer as fast as they once were; the centuries had taken their toll. Taming the wilderness, she began to realize, was now a game for someone much younger. Her mind wandered back to the day she first set foot in the woods her family now called home. She wasa rag tag refugee…in leather armor that was a fourth generation hand me down, and a rusty sword that would be lucky if it could cut through hot butter.

There was a time when she looked back on those days as the “good old days.” Her mind drifted back across the years...She was distracted by a little laugh coming from a basket next to her chair. She looked down, there smiling up at her was a tiny baby. She smiled back at the small child. Tatsumi set down a pen, and bent down to pick up the child in her arms.…suddenly she realized.

These were the ‘good old days.’

A noise that sounded like it was made by the feet of a small heard of ravenous mongbats pulled her out of her reverie. The noise grew louder behind her. Tatsumi turned around. There was the same beaming face, that once smiled up at her from the basket. Now much older.

“Watcha doin’ mommy?”

“Well little one, Tatsumi answered, I am finishing up that book you asked me to write about my life, and the world you grew up in.”

“For me?!”

Tatsumi spread some sand on the last page and blew it off. She closed the cumbersome volume and handed it to her daughter with one hand. The book was even more of a burden for one so small, and the child took the book in both arms.

“Thank you so much mommy.”

The child set her precious treasure down on a nearby table…ever so gently…as if it would break if she dropped it too hard. No sooner had the book hit the surface of the table then she spun around, laughing gleefully, she ran to her mother and jumped into her arms…confident that she could trust mommy to keep catch her and keep her safe… ‘Just like always…’

The little girl plopped down in Tatsumi’s lap. She looked up and noticed one small tear slowly making it’s way down her mother’s left cheek.

“Why are you sad mommy?”

“I’m not sad at all little one.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because, little Tajqa, these are tears of joy. I have fought many battles, long and hard, for treasure….gold, jewels…and I suddenly realized…that YOU…little one…are the GREATEST treasure of all….my ‘pearl of great price.’ I would give up everything for you.”

“But you don’t have to give up anything for me, mommy,’ said little Tajqa, “I’m right here”

“…THAT my little love, is why I am crying…THESE are my ‘good old days.’”

Mother and child sat there watching the fire as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the mountains.

As the years flew by, Tajqa grew into a tall strong woman. Her mother, Tatsumi, grew in love for her new life, as she grew older. Even elves die. Eventually, her days dwindled down to a precious few. The day finally came when Tatsumi set out on life’s greatest adventure….the after life. ‘Death is but a doorway’ she used to say.

When that day finally came, Tajqa sat on her horse staring back at the stone building that had been her home, now empty, for the last time. She turned her horse and rode off to the waiting ship at the sea shore.

Tajqa set off for a new land…

Her home dwindled away, as had its former owner, Tatsumi. The day came when both building and owner were nothing but cold bones in frozen ground. But one thing never dwindled…one thing NEVER died…the love of mother and daughter.

Raging Tauren part eight

Raging Tauren - Chapter Two

Brighde and Lara sat at a small table in the front room of her family home that overlooked the mystic ward. Brighde had been there many times for training during her days as a young paladin. Now the house was all to empty – devoid of the family that had once made it a place of such warmth. The pounding of the Great Forge through the halls of Ironforge formed a lovely counterpoint to the pounding in Brighde’s head. The melodious strains of pain where not the only rhythms that filled the morning air. The early morning bustle of people going back to their jobs, carts rolling by on their way to open shops, and gnomes already shouting so all of the breakfast crowd could hear of the marvels of the freshly backed and picked wares. In fact it was the shouting of one particular gnome that set off the pain afresh, which had at least begun to subside.

A gnome in a red dress, over which she wore a white apron stuck her head in the front doorway. This being ironforge, the typical dwelling did not have a front door. Her hair was as red as her dress. She bore loaves of bread in her arms stacked nearly as high as the hair that was piled up on top of her head.

“Loaf of fresh baked bread this morning sir?” the gnome said with a bright smile.

“No, not today thankyou.”

“What about you Lara?” she said looking just beyond Brighde’s head, which she now held in both of her hands, to the dwarf who just entered the room.

“Not today thank you Farthing.”

“Right you are sir. See ya later,” the gnome Farthing replied brightly and set off in the direction of the commons.

“Here let me fill up your mug again,” Lara said as she tipping the contents of an aging metal container, the bottom of which was scorched by flame, into a large wooden mug that sat abandoned in front of Brighde. The black steaming contents oozed into the mug with a plop.

Brighde looked up at Lara and then stared at the contents of the mug in front of her as she spoke.

“This has got to be the worst coffee I have ever tasted. It tastes like it was run off of my dog’s butt.”

“You don’t have a dog,” said Lara.

“If I had a dog this is coffee is what it would taste like if it was run off his butt.”

“How do you know what coffee tastes like when it is run off of anyone’s butt? said Lara curtly. Have you ever had coffee that has been run off of a butt?


Brighde moaned again. Looked up at Lara with a pained expression on her face which she promptly buried in her arms on the table.

“It is way too early for this nonsense” she moaned.

“Shut up er’ drink up ye drunken sot. What would the rest o’ members o’ the Silver Hand say if they saw one of their paladins like this?”

Lara’s curt reply was answered only by a groan. Lara poured another cup of the ooze that passed for her coffee and Brighde’s head hit the table with an audible thump.

“Lucky thin’ fer ye that the table was there tae break yer fall eh? I have picked ye up off the floor enough fer one day. Next time ye go out drinkin’ like that I’ll nae be there tae pour ye back into yer bed.”

“What do you mean ‘drinking like that’? came Brighde’s objection. You were there drinking same as I was!”

“Like I said, came Lara’s reply, drinkin’ like that – its no the drinkin’ itself I mind so much as yer inability tae handle the drink in the first place. What kind o’ a dwarf are ye? Me wee sister could drink ye under the table.”

“Don’t be absurd, Yer sister is only 12 years old” groaned Brighde.

“Aye, came the reply, an’ still she kin’ drink ye under the table. An’ so ye are a double disgrace – a disgrace fer not bein’ able tae handle the drink and a disgrace tae our order fer getting’ drunk in the first place.”

The was a long pause as Brighde thought for a moment in silence, her thoughts struggling to pierce the veil of her hangover.

“…OUR order?” she said, puzzlement filled her face as she looked up at her friend bleary eyed.

“aye, you heard what I said. That time ye where shot at with an arrow that nicked yer left ear and narrowly missed turnin’ ye into dwarf shish kabob – who pulled ye out o’ the way?”

“You did, Lara,” came the reply.

“That time ye were chasin’ a kobold across the Swamp of Sorrows an’ ye fell into the bog who pulled ye’ out when ye were nearly a gonner?”

“You did, Lara”

“An’ that time ye’ stopped in to a bar in Ratchet on yer way to the Crossroads, a bar full o’ Taurens I might add, and started yelling “Moo” who pulled ye out o’ the way?”

“Wait a min’, said Brighde bleary eyed, that wasn’t you. I was hit o’er the back o’ the head wi’ a bottle. I woke up in an’ ally.”

“An, just who was it ye’ think hit ya’ in the back o’ the head an’ dragged yer fat carcass out o’ there afore ye were killed dead?”

“Yoo hit me o’er the head wi’ a bottle! Yelled Brighde. Ye dirty….I woke up in an ally. What is wrong wi’ ye?’

“Well if ye’ where a bit more thankful now n’ then, perhaps ye’ would have woken up in the inn instead o’ the ally.”

An angered look crossed Brighde’s face and she rose quickly intending to take what she considered a well deserved swing at her “friend” Lara – only to find herself forced back to her seat just as suddenly but the pain which slammed into her head like a sledgehammer the moment she rose.

“Ye may as well sit down afore ye fall down, said Lara. An’ have another ‘slice’ o’ me coffee, she replied with a smile.”

With that Lara began pouring the strong coffee into the mug in front of Brighde. It was a potent brew that has also been known to take rust off iron swords, deforest small areas of ground of shrubbery, and – as in this case – cure a bad hangover quicker n’ any other remedy known to man or dwarf. It was always a contention amongst the, usually unwilling, recipients of the hangover cure, that most individuals got over the hangover just so they wouldn’t have to continuing imbibing a potion that could otherwise have been used as a slow and particularly cruel form of torture.

“An’ now that ye have finally invited me into yer family home, after all these years, although I can’t say as I was actually invited as ye’ were out cold when I dragged her fat tookas over here from the pub, I can’t say as I admire yer family’s particularly gruesome taste in wall hangins’ either.”

“What? Brighde said looking up hat her friend once again, barely able to lift her head. What the devil are ye talkin’ aboot?”

“That, said Lara pointing with the coffeepot up to an animal head mounted above the nearby fireplace. The druid ye whose ‘ead ye got stuffed n’ mounted up there.”

“Are ye’ daft? exclaimed Brighde in as aggravated a tone as she could manage through the pain. It’s jus’ the head of a lion.”

“A lion eh? Have ye’ no e’er wondered why yer ‘lion’ has horns like that?’

“ I suppose, said Brighde looking up at the mounted head above the fireplace now. On tother hand, who would think it would have fangs like that either. Look at the things. It looks like that thing could eat a ham sandwich through a picket fence.”

“Have ye’ been livin’ under a rock all yer life long,” said Lara?

“Well ya’ said Brighde. We are dwarves an’ this IS Ironforge is it not? O’ course I spent a lot of time livin’ under a rock.”

“An jus’ where did yer ‘lion’ come from me friend?”

“It be somethin’ ma ordered before she died. It came jus’ after I got ‘ere. She wrote me aboot it. Came from some troll or other in Ratchet. She ordered it.”

“well me dear, that no be any lion. THAT be a druid in cat form. Wot is more, that be a Tauren druid.”

*******************************

The sea breeze blew across the small village of Revantusk, in the Azerothian Hinterlands. The breeze carried on it a scent of salt and the feint rhythms of steel drums. In the distance Dr. Rashan danced, his feet pounding against the wooden floor of his shanty, not far from the beach where Zola sat, her feet dangling over the edge of the small dock. The gentle breeze blew threw her long red locks, and she kicked her feet absent mindedly in the air as she cast her fishing line once again.

The lure at the end of the line whipped through the air and landed in the midst of a distant school of fish – cast with an accuracy that could have plucked a gnat from a horse’s ear at 30 yards. The same early afternoon sun that gleamed off Zola’s blue troll skin, turned the tiny waves of the ocean into thousands of small lights. Yet it was not difficult for her experienced eyes to pick the bobber out the peaks of the many tiny waves. This time in the afternoon was one of Zola’s favorite.

Not many of the dwarves and humans who came out of the nearby dwarf settlement on Aerie Peak even knew this village was here. The only land passage was down a narrow rock strewn ledge partly hidden in the bracken strewn across the top of the cliff that formed a wall around three sides of the small outcropping of land on which the troll village of Revantusk was located.

Yes, Zola loved this time of the afternoon – the cool ocean breezes. The rhythm of her native music and the peaceful feeling that settled over the village about this time each day. Her eyes, intent on watching the bobber for the telltales signs of a fish nibbling at her line, were distracted by a movement in the distance. A large sea turtle surfaced for a moment, then disappeared once again beneath the waves. A few minutes passed and it surfaced once again with a fish in its mouth…

…which it promptly lost, as well as its head, as the crack of a rifle shot pierced the calm afternoon air.

“You be doin’ the whole thing the ‘ard way” came a familiar voice from behind her.

A smile crossed Zola’s face. Without turning she merely said, “Well there was the whole idea of actually havin’ a fish left after the fishin’ was done.”

“Ya, well it wasn’t the fish I was after anyway, it was the turtle. Ya’ do know how I be lovin’ turtle soup. Nothin’ like it.”

A grimace crossed Zola’s face as she turned to see her oldest friend, Erzuli.

“Well that be the truth, said Zola said. And the whole village is more the fortunate for it!”

Erzuli sat down next to Zola, her back against a crate at one side of the dock. Dust covered the green scales of her leather armor which creaked a bit shifted and made herself comfortable. Like Zola, was red, but was done up in a large Mohawk that seemed to keep its shape, despite the breeze.

“So, Zola said turning back to her attention back to the bobber at the end of the line, where have ya’ been all this time?”

“Just out doin’ a bit of huntin’ is all,” came the offhanded reply.

“Tha’ I can see from the state of yer’ clothes. But ya’ have been gone an awful long time fer a short huntin’ trip.”

Erzuli was about to reply when a sudden wave came washing over the dock. Zola, dressed in shorts and a loose cloth blouse didn’t have much to get wet in the first place. Erzuli, however was soaked but didn’t seem to mind, it taking the whole thing in stride. When the wave subsided, there, in the middle of the deck, stood a scarred boar. Its pink skin contrasting against the armor plates on its back and legs, upon which red symbols had been painted. The armor was dented in many places, looking as if it had seen a lot of use. It’s long tusks where gleaming and sharp, as if they too had seen a lot of use – a lot of very successful use. In it’s mouth was the mangled remains of a very large fish. It looked at Erzuli with a large smile on its face, if indeed boars can be said to smile. This one, most obviously did.

Erzuli simply stared at the boar.

The boar, seemed to realize it had done something wrong and dejectedly let the fish flop onto the wooden deck.

Staring straight at the boar Erzuli spoke to it.

“Did I or did I not tell ya’ we were here fer the turtles an’ not the fish? Did I or did I not tell ya’ ahead of time we were havin’ turtle soup for dinner?”

As oddly anthropomorphic as it seemed, the boar seemed to understand Erzuli. Quickly turning, she jumped off the end of the dock, once again spraying water all over Erzuli and Zola. Zola broke the silence first.

“Ya’ know that never stops bein’ amazin’. I am not sure whether that is creepy or not. Yer’ boar seems ta’ know exactly what you ar’ sayin’ ta her.”

“Well she may understand, said Erzuli, and she may be as tough as old shoe leather, but she is not as smart as they come.”

“Be that as it may, all I am sayin’ is ya certainly do have a way with animals.”

“Ya’ she has been a good friend and companion these many years, and those sharp tusk of hers have saved my own hide many times.”

Zola was about to reply when she was distracted by the sound of something heavy being dragged across the wooden deck behind them. Turning, both woman saw Erzuli’s boar dragging the carcass of a turtle, several times her size across the deck. She dropped it and a big grin crossed her face once again.

“That’s my girl, smiled Erzuli. Good girl.”

The boar started to wiggle her but so hard it appeared as if it would come off. She was obviously delighted to have earned her master’s approval.

“Well, said Erzuli standing up, it seems as if dinner is served. I will see ya’ a bit later.”

With that she slung her rifle across her shoulder. The rifle, unlike her clothes was well polished, its pristine surfaces gleaming in the sun. Erzuli waved and turned away from her friend. As she did the ever present tassel which always hung from the stock of her rifle slapped against the leather of her clothes. Unlike the pristine rifle, the tassel seemed old and worn.

“Why do ya’ keep that smelly old thing around?” Zola called after Erzuli, who stopped and turned back to her.

“Now that’s now way ta’ be talkin’ about me dear pet boar.”

“Not your boar, that thing ya’ got hangin’ from your rifle….that smelly old lion tail.”

Raging Tauren part seven

Raging Tauren - Chapter Two

“I’LL SPEAK ABOOT ME COUSIN ANY WAY I PLEASE!!” the drunken dwarf yelled and slammed her mug on the table – and in the process spilling most of it’s contents either on table, floor or her companion Lara.

Lara set enough gold on the table to cover both the drinks and the damage and pulled her friend over to the door of the Stonefire Inn.

“Not,” she said, pushing Brighde through the door of the inn, “when your cousin is also the Thane, and ESPECIALLY not when that same Thane is like two peas in a pod with the Bronzebeard family.”

“BAH!” roared Brighde, stumbling away from the inn and just narrowly missing a headlong tumble into the deep molten slag pilled pit that formed a ring around the inner and outer parts of Ironforge. She stopped, steadying herself with one hand on a nearby wall and turned back to Lara…

“Who cares aboot the Bronzebeards? Ye air nothin’ but a cowaird, she said to her friend with a look that was originally mean to be a look of distain but came out looking more like someone who was trying to figure out why a multi-legged creature was crawling up her arm. The look on Brighde’s face rapidly changed from mock distain to shock as her friend whisked her off her feet and into a nearby darkened corner.

“I CARE about the Bronzebeard’s that’s who,” said Lara.

Now she had Brighde by the color of her hauberk. Lara lowered her voice in a whispered threat just next to Brighde’s ear.

“I’ll thankee not tae speak about me king and ‘is family like that. And do NOT mistake the fact that we are childhood friends fer me willingness tae be called a coward be ye’ or anyone else. Do ye remember what happened th’ last time ye said that?”

Brighde rubbed the back of her neck where a scar still hurt her when it rained.

“Ye snuck up behind me, said Brighde in a level voice. Ye’ would never beat me in a stand up fight”

“A large smile ran across Lara’s face. Of course I would nae beat ye’ in a stand up fight. Why else would I sneak up behind ye?”

“Because yer’ a thief?”

“Well, there is that as well, said Lara patting her old friend on the back. Come lets be off tae yer new house.”

“Me Mothers house,” corrected Brighde. “I still have nae been able tae bring meself tae call it mine….then after a pause she added….God rest Mothairs dear soul.”

Brighde started off down the immense hallway again and started to stumble. Lara steadied her friend and supported her under one arm.

“Come on’ let me help you home, or ye’ will end up fallin’ into the steel of the Great Forge fer sure.”

Raging Tauren part six

Raging Tauren - Chapter Two

“Reet! So that’s ‘ow it was then?” said the dwarf slamming his mug of dark ale on the wooden table, splattering suds on the table and floor in the process. The fact that the any dwarf would spill even a drop of good dwarven brew perhaps told of the slight stage of inebriation of the bearer of the mug. The dwarf wiped the suds off the front of her leather vest with her hand, followed by her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

“Aye, said the dwarf across from her, also slamming her mug on the table, with a nod that was so violent that her twin red braids slapped on the back of her steel armor, That’s ‘ow the tale come down tae me from me mother’s, mother’s, mother…”

A somewhat puzzled look crossed the face of the first dwarf as if she were trying to remember if she had locked the door to her house. She muttered a bit to herself – counting out the “mothers” on fingers which where very lithe for a human let alone a dwarf.

“….yer mother’s, mothers….then turning to her old friend Brighde she said loudly, YER GREAT GRANDMOTHER!”

“Reet,” said Brighde taking another long draft of ale, “so ye knew ‘er then did ye?”

“Nooo,” came the reply, “I kin count is all – unlike some o’ the rest o’ us.”

“I kin’ count as well,” said Brighde in mock earnestly,"...I kin' count the two o' ye sittin' across from me!" With that she laughed hardily and took another long gulp of her ale.

“So tell me Brighde, said the first dwarf, jus’ what is it that yer father was doin’ havin’ dealins with the Dark Iron Dwarves in the first place; him bein’ the father of a fine upstandin’ paladin such as yerself?”

“I kin’ tell ye that was a fact that he was no proud of in the first place”

“Dealin’ with the dark irons?”

“Nooo, said Brighde, her speech now slurred than before, ‘avin’ a paladin fer a daughter. He was dead set agin it from the first.”

“Let me guess – ‘e asked ye ‘ow ye would ever ‘ave any children an’ yer mother cried fer half an hour?”

“O’ so ye heard already did ye?” asked Brighde.

“Noo. I ‘ad the same conversation wi’ me mum an’ da’ meself. ‘Lara’ ‘e says tae me one day, ‘ow will ye e’er have any wee bairns if ye keep up wi’ this life o’ yourin?’”

“What did ye tell ‘im?” asked Brighde, with another long gulp, now barely able to hold herself upright in the chair.


“What could I say?” said Lara, “I offered tae steal ‘im a few.”

With this both Brighde and Lara laughed loud and long, both dwarves barely able to catch their breath. Finally the laughter settled down to a chuckle as both women sat drinking their ale in silence, just enjoying each others company; for that is what is said to be the measure of a true friendship – when silence can pass between two friends and not be uncomfortable.

The deep thrumming of the great forge filled in the background to the more present sound of laughter and clinking of glasses that was the sign of the stock and trade of every good Inn. And the Stonefire Inn of Ironforge was one of the best. The air smelled of a mixture of hops and a slight odor of smoke that was ever present in Ironforge. It was hard to be entirely rid of the smell with such a large forge operating completely underground.

“Well I am glad tae see me ol’ friend back, nae matter how sad the circumstances,” said Lara finally breaking the silence.

“Well it’s good to be back,” Brighde answered, “it has been a long time.”

“It is jus’ a shame that it took the death o’ yer mother fer the Thane tae bring ye ‘ome finally.”

There was a long silence. Then Lara spoke again, this time in a hushed tone so no one else around her could overhear the conversation.

“So jus’ what WAS yer father doin’ messin’ around wi’ the dark irons?”

Learning in Brighde also spoke in an undertone, “Well it was the bloody Thane what sent da’ all that way tae Mulgore in the first place….the right bloody bustard tha’ ‘e is.”

“Shh-shh-shh,” hissed Lara sounding somewhat like a drunken asthmatic snake, “Don’t let anyone ‘ear ye say somethin’ like that in here.”

“Well the Thane ‘as that comin’ n’ a lot more I kin tell ye’ He be the whole reason tha’ dad is dead in the first place…” said Brighde her voice raising, then trailing off a bit as she noticed some of the other patrons of the Stonefire Inn glancing in their direction.

Raging Tauren part 5

Xasxas’ mind was quickly brought back to the present by a slap on the back by Elder Runetotem. Yet anger still filled his heart as he remembered the death of both his parents.

“I know what you are thinking lad, began the elder. I miss your parents dearly. You father and I where the best of friends long before you were born. We were proud, headstrong young bulls then. We would hunt together. There is much of your father that I see in you lad.”

There was a long silence as the wind whistled amongst the three mesas that formed Thunder Bluff. The sun had long since set and Xasxas now stared at the moonlight Mulgore sky. Thousands of points of lights wheeled across the skies in an endless array that never ceased to fascinate him.

“Come back inside my son, there is something I need to tell you.”

Silence. Xasxas still kept his back to Elder Runetotem.

“If you will not give me the courtesy due an elder, then you will give me the attention due a father,” said the Elder in a raised voice.

With that Elder Runetotem grabbed Xasxas and spun him around, with a strength belying his age. Xasxas simply stood there staring at his elder with an expression of anger on his face.

“I know your anger is not directed at me lad, and so I will not count it as the disrespect the other elders would consider it. Ever since your father died, I have helped raise you at your mother’s request and now Morningstar’s. Things are not always what they seem, and though you think you see things as they are now that you are a druid you still have much to learn. Blame for your father’s hands does not lay with the dwarves…”

His face now frozen and emotionless, except for the piercing eyes for which Xasxas was known, paused, then in a sarcastic tone that Elder Runetotem would not tolerated from any save his foster son.

“Then teach me O’ wise one.”

Elder Runetotem let out a long sigh then continued.

“Your father did not die because he was murdered by the dark iron dwarves. Your father died because he was headstrong – like you.”

Raging Tauren Part 4

“Xasxas, She told her son in a mildly scolding tone, I don’t mind you playing “mighty lion protector.” I don’t even mind the messes you make of yourself. But you have got to get over this anger at people who don’t understand Mother Earth the way we do. Isn’t that right Tatsumi? She added looking up at her friend for support.”

Tatsumi smiled down at her best friends son. Ignoring the mud that caked the little boy, nearly matching the color of Tajqa’s skin, she took the tiny hand in hers. It looked so tiny against her larger. Looking into the worried little eyes Tatsumi spoke to little Xasxas ever so gently, reassuring her.

“Xasxas, she said, your mother is right. It doesn’t matter where you came from. It doesn’t matter where you go in life. We are your family. You will always have a home here…and the Earth Mother will always have a safe retreat here where people love and respect her.”

“But mom” Xasxas blurted out, “those dwarves think we are all just big dumb cows, they will NEVER learn. Before he died dad said….”

“Yes, Tatsumi said. I know what they think of us. You are right. But you are a Tauran, you can be proud of your heritage. We all miss your father. But you still have a mother who loves you and our tribe wants you with them. We will look out for the Earth Mother together.”

“I love you, Xasxas’s mother said, smiling at her son. She took him in her arms as she hugged him and whispered in his ear…we are safe here little one.”

“…aren’t they going to kill us like they did dad?” Xasxas asked through nearly silent tears.

“These lands are well protected, his mother said with a reassuring smile. We don’t have to fear those bad men any more. I will always love you…”

Then mother and daughter hugged each other in silence for along time, with Tatsumi looking on. Moments passed as little Xasxas enjoyed the warmth of his mothers hug. The moments lingered on…and his mother’s grip loosened…dropping Xasxas to the ground…her eyes wide open in both shock and horror. Xasxas watched as his mother dropped slowly into Tatsumi’s arms. Then she saw the black shaft of an arrow that protruded from the back of his mother’s neck..

Not understanding fully what had happened the little boy just gave his mother a puzzled look. In a pitiful little voice he managed to squeak out the words…

“Mommy?”

Tatsumi had spotted the source of the angry black shaft, but too late. Here in Mulgore was the last place she expected an attack. She watched helplessly as the assassin slipped back into the night, fading from sight. She held her dieing friend in her arms, watching as the light that was her life, faded from her eyes. Tatsumi watched as Xasxas’s mother gagged, struggling for breath and a voice that would not come. A silent tear coursed down the dieing woman’s cheek. Tatsumi followed her friends eyes as they look one at her daughter one last time with a mixture of love and anguish.

“Dearest friend, Tatsumi whispered…for that is all the voice she could find…dearest sister…you can go into the next world in peace. I will always love little xasxas. I will raise him not as my own…for truly now…he is my own. Your son will always be loved and cared for.”

With that the light behind those dark eyes, the window of the soul, slipped into eternity.

Raging Tauren Part 3

When all was quiet Xasxas silently padded his way to the edge of the precipice. Looking down, he crept over to the gully that lead down to the dwarves dig. Cautiously he made his way through the filth the dwarves had left in their wake as ripped in to the Earth Mother’s flesh. Xasxas the stealth lion kept to the shadows of the setting sun as he approached their camp site.

Overhead clouds from the east threatened to overtake the beautiful Mulgore sunset. A slight mist began to fall, lightly coating Xasxas’ mane as he lay in wait. An hour passed with Xasxas listening to the dwarves laugh while wooden mugs filled and refilled with Dwarven ale. He inched forward into a mud filled trench in which the dwarves had been working. The light rain had turned the earth to ooze that reminded Xasxas of the Earth Mother giving up her blood as the result of the Dwarves treachery. The muck coated his fur as he crept forward ever so slowly…making him blend perfectly with his surroundings

The hours wore on as he made his way closer to the campsite, now a dry patch in what had become a sea of mud. With the setting of the sun, the temperature began to drop. The twin moons where full, their light glistening in the drops of water on his fur, shinning like diamonds. Water ran down from the precipice filling the formerly dry gulch. The rhythm of the water pounding like kettle drums in his ears. He waited-until midnight-then ever so cautiously he made his way into the campsite. Hiding in the shadows, Xasxas carefully placed each paw so as not to create the slightest sound. At the center of the camp, the fire dwindled. One of the two remaining dwarves reached behind him and threw another log into the center of the flame, stoking the fire. He recognized the older of the two dwarves at the fire as the leader of the dig site. Both dwarves stared intently into the flames as shared a conversation. This was just the distraction that Xasxas was hoping for.

The mighty lion Xasxas crawled on his belly, edging toward the unsuspecting dwarves. Soon he was within pounding distance.

From his hiding place he could see the two dwarves laughing. Laughing at the families of Mulgore no doubt. Then, the older dwarf pointed directly at him! How could this be? He had been discovered. His mind raced, trying to decide on a course of action. Too soon his foe set upon him. In a moment the leader and reached him….

…pulling him out of the mud. Xasxas smiled as he remembered his mother looking down at her little boy, that she and her friend Morningstar had seen hiding in the bushes again.

“Xasxas!,” cried his mother, holding him at arms length.

There was little Xasxas covered from head to foot with mud and leaves plastered all over his body. Morningstar burst out laughing behind his mother; and soon his mother joined in the laughter as she surveyed the condition of her son. Setting down her little boy, she smiled down at him.

“Have you been playing mighty lion protector again young man?” she asked.

“Yes mommy,” said Xasxas ever so sheepishly. “Have I been bad?”

Mother and child made their way back to the wooden bench to join her dear friend Morningstar near the fire at the center of Bloodhoof Village. She sat little Xasxas on the bench between the two of them.

Raging Tauren part 2

Xasxas walked out into the night breeze that blew across elder rise. The moons were full…a hunter’s moon is old da’ used to call them. As looked out across the waving grass of Mulgore he saw the small stand of trees where he used to play as a child. His mind drifted back across the decades…back to the time his old da’, a fourth generation druid, told him about being able to shapeshift into a lion…protecting the plains of Mulgore…

…Being an lion was about patience; and Xasxas had infinite patience. He carefully watched his quarry, studying its habits…where it went, what it did. Xasxas the lion waited, planned, he bided his time. Waiting for the precise moment guaranteed success, without bring danger to himself and his tribe. Xasxas was a druid, tutored carefully in the ways of the Earth Mother.

Now he had traced his quarry to their dig site; a mine they had driven into the very bowls of the Earth Mother. There were five Dark Iron Dwarves and only one of him. Not good odds for a druid such as himself… “Perhaps they should go find some more friends,” he chuckled to himself. The smell of his quarry’s filth, lingered in his sensitive nostrils.

Xasxas the Lion prowled carefully through the tall grass near the edge of the Dwarve’s dig site. Even druids, no matter how skilled, cannot prowl entirely without risk leaving a trace of their passing. He followed a small gully that ran up the side of the mountain ridge to the area just above the mines. It had once been a small creek, no run dry as if somehow in reaction to the evil that lay within the corruption of the Earth Mother.

He lay in wait, hidden by tall prairie grass, at the top of the ridge. Hesitating, the mighty lion slowly crept out of the edge of the tall grass and peered over the ledge and looked down into the gaping pit the dwarves had dug into the Earth. It seemed to Xasxas as if it where a gaping wound.

The open wound horrified Xasxas. The ore they gouged from the Earth Mother seemed as if it where huge gaping lumps of her flesh. It made him retch, spewing the contents of his stomach into a nearby patch of weeds. He crawled slowly edged back to the safety of his hiding place, afraid that the noise he made might have alerted the dwarves.

Raging Tauren

Authors Note: In the World of Warcraft a Tauren is the similar in appearance to a minotaur of mythology. However, in the world of Azeroth, the Tauren have a culture that is very close to Mother Earth, as were many American Indian Cultures.

Xasas sat across from Elder Runetotem. A warm fire crackled in the background as a cool evening breeze blew across elder rise. In the background the sound of drums drift across Thunderbluff from hunter rise. The two Tauren stare into the fire for some time. The younger of the two breaks the silence first…

“Elder Runetotem I miss Bloodhoof village.”

“In the time you have been here you have served the tribe well Xasas. I am proud of you. You will always have a home here. What troubles you young one?”

“Elder, the day I left Bloodhoof village it was attacked by a mighty dwarven warrior in plate armor. He attacked the guards and our young ones. Why did he do that?”

“I know of what you speak. The dwarf was exacting vengeance for his brethren who died at the Bael’dun mines to the west.”

“But Elder, the dwarves are digging in sacred lands”

“Yes, I know that Xasas. We did ask them to stop, many times. The dwarves refused. Chief Cairne Bloodhoof decided that the time for speaking came to an end. But the grievance of the races go much deeper than that.”

“What do you mean elder? Why do they hate us? The nightelf druids of moonglade are our friends. I go there all the time now.”

“This is true Xasas, but you must understand some things. The orcs have long hated the humans. This is because the humans kept the orcs as slaves and worse…many of their people where hunted to near extinction.”

“But did the orc’s invade the humans? Didn’t you say that they were tricked into it by Gul’dan and the Shadow Council? But for the deception of the Shadow Council you said the Orc’s wouldn’t have even come here. The orcs of the Frostwolf clan were even exiled for refusing to follow Gul’dan."

“Yes, this is true Xasas. But you must understand, of all the beasts you will ever hunt, the hardest to kill is hatred.”

Both Elder Runetotem and Xasas sat together, as silence passed between them. Once again the younger Tauren asked for his elder’s wisdom.

“Elder, there is something else that troubles me…”

“What is it Xasas?” Elder Runetotem asked me.

“The other day I was hunting in the Barren Planes near the Cross Roads, I continued. As you taught me, each time I take the life of a beast I thank its spirit and that of the Earthmother for the life that gave itself so the Taurens can live.”

“That is good Xasas,” Elder Runetotem said to me with a smile, “You learn well. Truly you walk with the Earthmother. Please continue…”

“Well, Elder, I had just finished prayer for the noble spirit of the mighty Kodo. As I was taught, I always skin the beast and use all its parts. I leave nothing laying on the open plane.”

“This is good. That is they way of our people. The Kodo is a mighty and noble creature. You were right to pray for it’s spirit.”

Hesitantly Xasas continued. “My prayers were interrupted by the sounds of battle. I rushed to the crossroads and dozens of humans were raiding the orc settlement, killing all that they could. You have sent me many times to the Nightelf settlement in Moonglade for training. Because of this I speak a bit of elvish….well…as I saw the orcs dieing and wounded all around me, I began to heal them. I thought I would do my best to help those in pain. Amongst them was a nightelf warrior. He was trying to kill an Orc warrior. I healed the Orc warrior so he could not. That’s when the nightelf turned to me and shouted something at me….”

Here the younger stopped. A pained look crossed his face and he could not go on. Elder Runetotem, being as understanding as he is, let Xasas continue in his own time. After a great deal of silence passed, the elder spoke….

“What did he say to you Xasas?”

The younger choked downhis emotions that were a mixture of grief and anger. Slowly he continued, “He told me I should go back with the other young ones and…and…well, ‘milk myself.’ He looked up at his elder through tear filled eyes. At length he continued, “Elder, the humans all think we are just big dumb cows don’t they.”

“Sadly, Xasas, many of them do. What do you feel you should do about it?”

Xasas got up and stood for awhile; staring into the fire. He looked into Elder Runetotem’s eyes and said, “There is a human expression my elder, that says ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’”

“Yes Xasas, ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’…and the whole world will be blind and toothless. Is this the course of action you choose Xasas?”

Xasxas turned away and strode toward the door. Then he stopped, and without looking back at my elder said, “I don’t know…I just don’t know…”