daydreamingic

[daydreamingic]

A Liminal Moment

Author notes: edited with grammarly, ritual and clan names are made up. Mistakes are mine, constructive criticism welcome. I'm cleaning out my WIPs/ideas folder and this was one I wanted to finish. Very vanilla for me but it was fun to write. No plans at the moment to continue, but the bones are there in case I want to revist. Set in the WoW universe.

A Liminal Moment​

"Tenkof gets to go on an overnight hunt." Ahkune, daughter of Guragom, stood firmly in the entry to her parents' small hut with her green fists on her hips. "Why am I forbidden?" Her parents sat on a soft, colorful rug across the room from the entrance of their home. They exchanged a glance, a glint of firelight from the small fire in the middle of their hut catching amusement in her mother's eyes before her father turned toward her. Her mother continued to weave a large basket with dried reeds as he spoke. "The Wor’amon is a bonding ritual between the hunter and his companion, as his companion seeks a lifemate. Only the hunter and his companion," he emphasized and gave his daughter a smile that curled around his wide tusks. "As you age, friendships change," Yatesh, her mother, interjected sternly, and set the basket down. She crossed muscled arms over her chest, taking her own firm stance across the room from her daughter. "Much of your journey will be alone as well, Ahkune. This is the first of many separate journeys for both of you." Ahkune's dark eyes narrowed. Neither of her parent’s gazes wavered when they felt the crackle of electricity in the air. With a huff, Ahkune turned on her heel and left the tent. The tension dissipated immediately. "Elements help him," Guragom chuckled, turning toward his mate, who frowned after their daughter. "I remember another young spitfire that wouldn't take no for an answer..." "I've had a vision," Yatesh said abruptly and turned to him. "He's going to leave her. Not on purpose, but she will be forever changed. It would be in her best interest to focus on her path now." "Would that have stopped you?" Guragom asked bluntly. Yatesh scowled but the harsh look softened almost immediately. "I don’t want her path changed because of the loss of their friendship. Letting them grow as close as they have may have been a mistake.” "You couldn't have pried them apart as children, Yatesh, any more than you could pry them apart now. We can't decide her path for her," Guragom said and reached over to take her hand. He rubbed her knuckles with calloused fingers. “And we can’t change the past. Ahkune is almost of age, and her journey is her own.” Yatesh blew out a sharp breath and her lower lip trembled before she bit it. “I don’t want darkness for her,” she said, voice quiet. Guragom sighed and pulled his mate into his arms, and Yatesh went, willing, their forms coming together as one silhouette. “We can only guide her,” he said, tightening the embrace. “The choices are hers.” After a long moment, Yatesh took a deep breath and pulled back, reaching for the incomplete basket to continue her weaving. ***

Ahkune crept through the dense forest that bordered her clan’s land as dusk settled. She stayed far out of sight while Kulgah of the Wolfclaw Clan guided his son to the beginning of a barely discernible path, far into the woods. The elements responded to her urgency, her need to be near Tenkof, and guided her between the trees, her bare footsteps soft. She wore a soft fur skirt and thin leather vest with no adornments, and her hair was tightly braided down the back of her head. If she’d been walking with Tenkof and his father, she’d have bones and beads and feathers tied into her hair, but Tenkof was born of a long line of hunters, and his family members were the best trackers in the clan; any mistake would lead them both to her, so she’d chosen quiet clothing and begged the elements to ensure there were no brambles to fight, no branches that hung so low she’d have to disturb them. She watched from a cliff ledge some distance away when Tenkof and his father entered a small clearing that opened to the edge of a pond. From her vantage above the clearing, she could see a stream that dropped down a distant mountainside and snaked through the forest, to the pond where Tenkof stood with his massive, gray wolf, Kosh, at his side. Kosh knew Ahkune’s scent well but hadn’t glanced her way while she followed the group. Kulgah was a large orc, bigger than Ahkune's father, and one of the strongest in their clan. Tenkof was nearly his father’s height but not as tightly muscled, shoulders not quite as wide--yet. Kulgah said something that Ahkune couldn’t make out, then gave his son a hearty slap on the back and started the long trek back through the forest, toward their clan grounds. Kulgah had worn simple leathers, but Tenkof was clad only in a loincloth and his bow and quiver. When Kulgah departed, Tenkof scouted the small clearing and used a handful of dried brush and some downed branches to start a campfire. Ahkune watched and waited for his father to disappear beyond sight. Once Kulgah could no longer be seen or heard, she glanced back at Tenkof--who was standing in the clearing, next to the crackling fire, and staring directly at the ledge where Ahkune was perched. Tenkof nodded in her direction, then pointed toward the fire and turned his back to the cliff. He settled down on the ground while Kosh prowled the clearing. Face hot with shame from being spotted, Ahkune didn’t attempt to keep quiet as she scaled the ledge and dropped to the soft, moss-covered ground below. She sprinted through the trees toward Tenkof’s clearing. Kosh met her in the forest with a wide, happy smile, tongue lolling, and loped by her side as they ran to Tenkof. “Thought you were quiet, did you?” Tenkof chuckled, not bothering to turn as Ahkune stepped into the clearing. Ahkune snorted and glared at his back, at his long, dark hair that had been tied in a braid. “On the approach, yes. It seems I was not?” “You were.” Tenkof glanced at her then, looking over his shoulder. “I’m not sure if my father noticed you. He didn’t speak of you.” Ahkune raised her brows but said nothing. The likelihood of his father not noticing her was slim, especially since Tenkof had spotted her. It didn’t matter. Kulgah had left and her parents hadn’t bothered trying to follow her. She walked to the fire and sat opposite of Tenkof, one hand gripping a fist full of soft earth. She could feel the element’s anticipation thrumming through the ground beneath her. “You understand the implications of Wor’amon, Ahkune.” Tenkof stared into the fire now, his face and posture set in firm lines. “Why did you come?” She’d been told repeatedly that there would be ceremonies and tasks both would be expected to undertake on separate paths, but she and Tenkof had been inseparable since they could walk, both born in the same season. They still played together in the forest, still swam together in the river. Ahkune often hunted and foraged with Tenkof, his father, and her father. She didn’t understand why she would be kept away from a simple bonding ritual. “Does the passing of the

solstice change us from who we were yesterday? One day, Tenkof, and now we walk our separate paths? Yesterday we swam and fished, Kosh by our sides. Why must tonight be only you and Kosh?” Tenkof turned to her and chided, “I will not be exploring your vision quests with you, Ahkune. These rites have been long established. Tradition has a meaning to our clan.” “Look me in the eyes and say it, then.” She lifted her chin in defiance, crossed her stout arms across her muscled chest. “Come now, Tenkof of the Wolfclaw Clan, look your closest friend in the eyes and tell me that tradition outweighs our bond.” “It doesn’t outweigh it, nitwit,” he said, exasperated. “You’re being purposefully obtuse.” He paused, looking at the fire again. “You don’t know what Wor’amon entails, do you?” She knew Kosh would find a mate and Tenkof would protect them, but she didn’t know any details--not that she’d admit that to Tenkof. “Of course. Why do you think I’m here?” Something peculiar happened when she answered. Tenkof’s cheeks turned reddish in the firelight. She narrowed her eyes. Curious. Tenkof stood and held out a hand for Ahkune to take. She walked to him, and he clasped her hands between his. When he spoke, he sounded more like this father than she’d ever heard, expression solemn, tone serious. It sounded like he’d memorized the words long before they crossed his lips. “Ahkune of the Wolfclaw Clan, daughter of Guragom. You insist on accompanying us on this night of Wor’amon. Answer this. Of your own determination, you have freely chosen to partake in Wor’amon?” Ahkune swallowed. For the first time, she felt like she may have been crossing a line that was drawn for a purpose. Maybe she shouldn’t have lied about understanding the ritual, but it was too late. She wouldn’t back down. “Yes, Tenkof of the Wolfclaw Clan, son of Kulgah.” “So be it,” he said, and while the reddish color darkened and spread down his neck, he shook her hand firmly, then let go. Ahkune immediately punched him in the shoulder, hard, breaking the serious atmosphere that had descended upon the little clearing. “Ahkune,” he chastised. She was strong, but not stronger than he, and instead of punching her back like he may have when they were little, he tugged at the bit of bone that adorned the piercing in her nose. “We wait for Kosh now,” he said. Questions bubbled up in her mind, but she’d already agreed and didn’t want to risk asking them for fear Tenkof would decide that she needed to leave. She would observe and simply accompany Tenkof, she decided, and she took time to examine the clearing. Tenkof’s bow and quiver leaned against a tree near him, and he wore a small leather pouch around his waist, but she saw no other supplies. Kosh settled down next to the fire. Ahkune was never good at waiting, so she offered to find a meal, and Tenkof, after looking Kosh over, agreed to hunt with her. They found a pair of rabbits in the woods, and on the return to the clearing Ahkune spotted ripe berries in a small bramble thicket tucked between trees. When they returned, Kosh was pacing, growing restless. Tenkof gutted the rabbit and left the innards for Kosh, but Kosh paid them no mind. They ate roast rabbit off the bone and finished with berries, watching the fire as it died, while Kosh whined and scented the air at the edge of the clearing. As Kosh grew discontent, Tenkof opened the pouch and pulled out a small sachet. “It is beginning,” Tenkof said. Ahkune bit her tongue and swallowed more questions as Tenkof placed the sachet in his mouth. He didn’t chew but seemed to push it into his cheek, where it bulged slightly. The air in the clearing grew rich with anticipation, a heady scent in the air that Ahkune couldn’t quite identify. “I can feel it,” she said, and her tongue felt thick, the words difficult to force out. Something hot stirred in her veins. “I wondered...” Tenkof shook his head and licked his lips, before moving to the sachet to his other cheek. He reached behind him to untie his braid and shake his hair out. The small bones and glass beads

that were woven into his hair rattled. “Of course you can feel it. I’m sure father knew you were here.” Ahkune laughed then, the sound abrupt and hearty. “If you could track me, I have no doubts that he knew.” While Ahkune would one day be a shaman, her ability to commune with the elements already heightened, she doubted she would ever be able to outsmart the greatest hunter their clan had known. “We follow Kosh now.” Tenkof stood, watching Kosh pant. The wolf prowled toward the north of the clearing, near the creek that spilled into the small pond. Tenkof gathered his bow and slung his leather quiver over his back. Ahkune stood and trailed her fingers over the small wooden totems tucked into the band of her skirt. She’d been on many hunts, but this wasn’t a hunt, and she didn’t know what to expect. The tension grew and it was oddly specific, hungry for something that wasn’t a kill. Though she was inexperienced with others, Ahkune was familiar with burgeoning cravings of the flesh that left her seeking solace in the woods to explore her body alone, but this was different. It was a primal craving that wasn’t quite hers, though she could taste it in the air and feel it begin to affect her, sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip. She wasn’t the only one feeling affected, she thought and stared at Tenkof. The reddish color had spread down his shoulders, over his chest, and she followed the flush down to where his loincloth hung loosely, his feet planted apart-- Kosh howled, long and mournful, asking a question that Ahkune could not understand. From deep within the forest another howl sounded, longer but higher pitched, an answer to the question asked. Kosh’s eyes were bright, head cocked to the side, and when the howl ended, he was off, head low as he lunged into the forest, following a path that Ahkune could not see. Tenkof shouted, and they were off, sprinting after Kosh, diving into the dark forest without hesitation. There was little the familiar woods could offer that would best two young warriors from the Wolfclaw Clan. Tenkof was faster, but just barely; Ahkune followed him easily, leaping over downed logs, dodging underbrush, careening between trees. This felt more like their hunts, but with a growing need coursing through her body. Twigs snapped underfoot, sharp stones dug into the soles of her feet, but she ran through the pain. She brushed against Tenkof, almost gaining on him, and something sparked inside at the brush of her skin against his. Kosh howled again, close but still ahead of them, and Tenkof roared, a burst of speed sending him hurtling in front of Ahkune. They ran for what felt like hours or days, until her heart thundered in her chest and her blood roared in her ears. The trees began to thin, and Tenkof stopped abruptly in front of Ahkune, and she slammed into his back. “Hey,” she snapped, bracing both hands against his back to push him. Tenkof hissed, “Quiet,” and she dropped one hand immediately as she moved to his side, the other hand trailing across his back, unable to pull away completely. They stood at another clearing, breathing heavy, and Kosh circled a smaller, white wolf that snapped and snarled at him. The musk of heat and need was heavier here, and something between Ahkune’s legs ached as she watched, mouth open, as the wolves circled each other. Tenkof dropped his bow and yanked his quiver over his head. That was her only warning before Kosh lunged and Tenkof did the same. Ahkune hit the ground hard. She rolled immediately, just barely escaping being pinned, and she laughed. Tenkof’s eyes were dark as they followed her movement, and she bared her fangs at him as Kosh nipped at his mate across the clearing. The female wolf yelped, and again Tenkof dove toward Ahkune. This time she wasn’t fast enough, and the force of their impact sent them rolling across the ground. The spark where they’d touched before turned into a blaze, fire trailing where their skin met. They wrestled and Ahkune locked her legs around his waist, twisting out from under him, but Tenkof grabbed

her and pulled with all of his might. The wolves growled with spiky hackles raised. Ahkune wouldn’t let Tenkof win without a fight, so she pushed hard, and he growled, showing teeth and tusks. The fire inside her roared, spreading through her abdomen. When Tenkof managed to get one leg between hers, she didn’t try to move away and let him pin her wrists to the ground above her head. His grin was dark and triumphant around his tusks, ivory jutting over the dark green line of his curled lips. He leaned down to nip at her chin. Ahkune hissed and shifted. She tried to bear down on his leg and make contact with where the fire had pooled in her center. She managed to grind down once, pleasure spiking at the drag of his firm muscle against her most vulnerable place, leaving an ache that craved more. Ahkune opened her eyes to see Tenkof’s closing, and her knee caught him off guard when she jammed it between his legs. Across the clearing, the white wolf snarled and snapped at Kosh. Tenkof growled, his smile turned dark as Ahkune scrambled backward, out from beneath him. She laughed and leaned forward, into a crouch, brow raised in challenge. He licked his lips, and when he rushed her, it was different. There was no hint of laughter in his expression, no soft edges to his attack. Kosh lunged toward his mate at the same time, and they both landed. Tenkof grabbed Ahkune by the waist and yanked her up, slamming her against the nearest tree. Kosh’s jaws were wide around the white wolf’s neck, holding her in place as he shifted slowly into position. Tenkof pressed himself against Ahkune, and she could feel the hard lines of his body, and the press of his cock heavy against her abdomen. She’d seen him fully naked before, as they bathed or swam in the river, but this was different; he wasn’t soft, hanging between his legs, no. He was hard and jutted against her. Her eyes widened as arousal flared inside and left her flushed and panting as Tenkof pushed against her once, then stopped, face buried in her neck. The needy noise that escaped her throat surprised her as much as him. Tenkof pulled back enough to look at her, his eyes wide as she whimpered, the need coursing through her suddenly intensified low in her pelvis, hot and slick. All she could think about was how good it felt when he moved against her, and she said so. Tenkof leaned in and her lips parted automatically, her eyes drawn to his mouth. She forced herself to look up when he paused and found him watching her carefully. “Tenkof,” she breathed, “I’m going to kick you again if you don’t do something.” Tenkof growled and surged against her, and she opened her mouth when his lips crashed into hers, and spread her legs so he could shift between them, the press of his cock through the loincloth and her fur skirt even closer and harder than before. She keened, bit his bottom lip, then licked it before he took over and kissed her again. He tasted like bitter herbs, and he turned to spit the sachet on the ground before returning to her mouth. She ground helplessly against him when the hot press of his tongue against hers was too much, yet not enough. “Ahkune,” he said, voice husky with desire, and pulled back. “You’re sure?” She reached up and buried her hands in his hair, and tugged him back to her. “Yes,” she said and bit the tip of his nose. Tenkof laughed, and his chest rumbled against hers, then ducked his head to lick and bite her neck. She groaned, and he reached down to search her skirt. He found the leather tie on one side and pulled it loose, the fur loosening then falling away from her hips. Ahkune inhaled sharply at the sudden exposure of skin, and he pressed his hand between her legs. His other hand shifted up under her thin leather vest, finding the soft swell of one small breast. He pinched her nipple hard, then pushed the vest off her shoulders. “Yes,” she moaned. She fumbled with his chest as he tweaked her nipple with his free hand and rubbed over the sensitive flesh below with his other. He rubbed back and forth until her slick spread between the

folds of her skin, coating his fingers so he could explore more easily, tugging at the thin skin of her entrance. Ahkune hissed and flicked his nipples in return, and it was his turn to groan at the flare of sharp pain, pushing against her as his cock throbbed. Tenkof kissed Ahkune and pushed two fingers into her hot, wet channel, and they heard the white wolf howl as Kosh finally mounted her. Ahkune’s hands trailed down his chest, nails scratching over the tight muscles of his abdomen, catching on the band of his loincloth. The leather tie wasn’t hard to find, and much like hers all it took was a quick tug before the leather was sliding off his skin, and nothing was left between them. She palmed his length as he rocked his fingers in and out of her. She stroked him with unsteady hands, fingers sliding up and over the ridge at the head of his cock with each tug. Precome dripped from the slit at the tip of his cock, down his length, and her hand was sticky with it. He grunted and bit her neck harder, and she gasped as he pressed in with a third wide finger. “More,” she said and nipped at his shoulder. “Need more.” He twisted the nipple on her other breast and captured her in a kiss, tongue pressing into her mouth. It was deep and wet, and she kissed him back just as hard, only breaking the kiss to whine when he pulled his fingers out of her. “I’m here,” he reassured her, and lined himself up, pressing the blunt head of his cock against the soft, slick entrance where her legs spread. Ahkune rolled her hips and his cock slid back and forth, oozing precome that mixed with her wet arousal. He pushed in and she whimpered as something tight inside resisted; he pushed harder, and the fire in her loins exploded as the resistance gave way to a sting of pain. Tenkof filled her, thick and heavy, stretching her--Ahkune’s thoughts were broken and jumbled as she clung to Tenkof, digging her nails into his arms, his back. She pressed her face against his chest as he pushed as far as he could, and he groaned when he bottomed out. They stayed that way for a moment, Ahkune full but not satisfied, her face against his chest, both breathing heavily. The pain faded, leaving only the raging fire within that wanted. Tenkof pulled back and she bit her lip at the loss of sensation; but he pushed back in, hard, and Ahkune couldn’t hold back the sounds she made, loud and desperate as Tenkof began to move in earnest. The blazing pleasure grew with each rough thrust. They picked up speed as they moved in tandem, racing toward an end that neither had ever shared, Ahkune moaning, and Tenkof grunting. Each thrust grew harder, each grunt louder, until Ahkune's eyes watered from the intense pleasure that rolled over her in waves. Each subsequent wave swelled taller and crashed harder, until Ahkune hit the pinnacle and the final wave shattered over her, pleasure pulling her under as her orgasm pulsed from her center. She panted as her muscles contracted around Tenkof, and she felt him swell and thicken inside of her as his thrusts turned short, and jerky. He followed her over the edge, cock pulsing in time with shallow thrusts as he came buried inside of her. Ahkune could feel the sweat drip from his face, covering his chest and shoulders in a sheen. His cock twitched inside of her as he softened, and she sagged against him. Tenkof wrapped his arms around her and held her up, and the wolves howled together. After a few breaths, Tenkof softened enough to slip out, and Ahkune grumbled at the sudden loss of sensation. “You’ll have me again,” Tenkof whispered just behind her ear and nuzzled her neck before he reached down and slid two fingers into her again. “Already?” she chuckled, and he huffed a laugh. “No,” he pressed his lips against the line of her chin. “Without you, I would have spilled my seed on the ground, for the wolves. Kosh and I are bonded, but she’s his. She needs to know that I am an extension of her mate.” He kissed Ahkune again, tongue only darting out to lick her bottom lip, before he pulled away, carrying their shared fluid

over to the wolves. He crouched next to them, Kosh bound to his mate, and held his hand out for the female to lift her head and sniff his fingers, then lick them clean. Kosh’s ears perked up, alert, and he watched until his mate was finished. Ahkune ran her hand over the neat braid that went down the back of her head and ended above her neck, watching as her closest companion, turned lover, walked back to her. “What now?” she asked Tenkof quietly when he crossed the clearing. He sat and gestured for her, so she sat next to him and he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and tugged her close. They settled on the ground together, his arm keeping her at his side. His voice was a quiet rumble. “We stay with them. If they mate again, we mate again. If anything attempts to interrupt, we protect them. Tonight is for their bond, and my bond with both of them.” The white wolf whined and stared at Ahkune with soulful yellow eyes. “Our bond,” Tenkof corrected, and his arm tightened around Ahkune as the white wolf settled down and looked away. “I have always known you would be my mate, Ahkune. I didn’t expect it to happen now, but--” he shook his head. “What’s done is done.” “We coupled,” she said, and jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “We’re not mated yet.” “Tell that to the wolves,” he said, and pressed a fist to her hair and roughened it quickly. Ahkune laughed and tried to squirm away, but he shifted his hand to the side of her face, cupped her cheek with one palm, and stared. Ahkune softened at the warm expression on Tenkof’s face as he looked her over carefully, then kissed her again. He was right, of course. They may not have been mated by ceremony, but the wolves watched them with knowing eyes, and something in Ahkune’s chest had trilled in delight when Tenkof called her his mate. When his lips met hers, it felt like coming home with full packs after a long hunt, or the cold rain on dry fields after a stifling, arid summer. She kissed him back and didn’t think about the future; she simply existed in his embrace, and it felt right. “No matter what punishment awaits my disobedience, I have no regrets,” she told him, tracing the line of his wide jaw with one finger. “I will be by your side, to shoulder my half of any punishment,” Tenkof trailed kisses down her jaw. “Mate.” Their paths had been intertwined since birth, and she knew she was meant to be at his side. The trees sighed as a gentle wind blew, as if the elements agreed. Tenkof mouthed the curve of her neck and followed it down, down, down, as Ahkune tangled her fingers in his dark hair. She let herself test the word, “mate,” as he spread the folds of soft skin between her legs with his tongue. She liked the shape of the word on her lips, and she spoke it out loud. “Mate.” Tenkof groaned against her sensitive flesh, and she shuddered. “Say it again,” he demanded, looking up at her. “Mate,” she said, showing him her teeth. “My mate.” Tenkof’s eyes grew dark with want, and he nipped her thighs before crawling up and over her body, pushing her down against the ground. “Yes,” he said and covered her body with his own. “Yours.” The earth beneath Ahkune hummed quietly, content, similar to her own emotions as they touched each other. Wor’amon momentarily sated, they explored with no urgency as the wolves rested together. Ahkune was happy to be at his side like she’d always been, and didn’t worry about the eventual return to their village; as he’d said, Tenkof would be by her side, and they would carry their burdens together. Mates. ***​

[daydreamingic]

Zoology Study: Azerothian Tarantulas

Making onward with my journey after about a week or so, I arrived at one of the makeshift Forsaken camps in Hillsbrad Foothills. My focus of study today? Those furry eight-legged creatures known as Tarantulas. More specifically the Moss Creepers, both wild and domesticated. I am aware I have previously written a report on Azerothian and Draenish Spiders, however that report only focused on the infamous web spinning and obviously hairless variety. And so I decided to dedicate the recent zoology report on the Azerothian Tarantula.

One thing worth noting is that these species of Spiders are only found on the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor continents. Why they remain is still a mystery. Perhaps these places just have a more favorable climate? Habitat-wise Azerothian Tarantulas live a variety of places including lowland plains, fog forests, deserts, and scrublands.

Moving on to size, these furry Spiders measure about 3 to 5 feet in diameter. Though they could be considerably smaller or larger in some species. Excluding the legs they are roughly the same size as a Worg. Similar to other Spiders, Azerothian Tarantulas are made up of two main parts. The prosoma appears to be a fusion of the head and thorax known otherwise as the cephalothorax. The other main part would be its opisthosoma or more simply called its abdomen. Both these parts are connected by a small, flexible cylinder known as a pedicle. This connecting piece allows the abdomen to move in a wide range of motion relative to the prosoma.

Azerothian Tarantulas seem to be just as brightly colored as their cousins ranging from dark amber, bright green, and grey. All seem to have a striped pattern on both their legs and abdomen. The Forest and Moss Creepers of Hillsbrad tend to be arboreal. Often they will construct either silken tube webs or burrow in crevices behind loose bark or epiphytic plants that have attached themselves to trees. More so, in more forested areas, Azerothian Tarantulas will group in swarms and weave mass amounts of webbing in order to catch an unlucky bird or even deer.

Next to be discussed are the many appendages of a Tarantula. Do you know that if one of their legs is amputated a new one will grow back by the next time it molts? Each leg of a Tarantula are divided up into seven segments including a singular claw at each tip.These spiders have a total of 8 legs with a pair of mouthparts known as chelicerae. The latter of which sometimes contains their venom glands and are located just directly below the eyes and forward of the mouth. Attached to the chelicerae are the fangs which are used to inject their venom into their prey. When they simply need to sheath their fangs they are folded back similar to that of a pocket knife. Along with the chelicerae are a small pair of appendages called pedipalps. These are attached to the prosoma and are mostly used as means of mating and reproduction.

To further explain, male Azerothian Tarantulas will produce a silken platform known as a “sperm web” They will then use their pedipalps to absorb and transfer to their female counterparts. When it comes to sexual dimorphism unlike birds in which males have the brighter and more colorful display, in Tarantulas it is the females that have this characteristic instead. Males also have a smaller abdomen and longer legs than that of females. Females on the other hand tend to live longer. Its not so much predation but more the act of molting that actually has more potential to killing a male tarantula in by its appendages have a tendency to get stuck in the process. This sort of unfortunate fate is similar to that of the molting of an Azerothian Crab. Perhaps this is why most domesticated Tarantulas tend to be female.

Azerothian Tarantulas are social creatures and tend to hunt in groups. The arboreal of the species will hide up in trees and then drop down on unsuspecting prey. Even the act of wrapping the prey in silk is a group effort especially with larger creatures. While insects are the main course of this carnivore’s diet, Tarantulas also feed on snakes, frogs, and mice. For Tarantulas that don’t live in forested areas, instead of constructing masses of webs to ensnare they make silken trip wires to alert them if something has approached their burrow.

As biting is a common offensive and defensive type of attack by Tarantulas it’s important to discuss some of the medical implications associated with such bites. While the bite itself is usually not fatal it can lead to serious infectious which potentially can lead to death if not treated properly. Some spiders can even spit corrosive acid which can wear aware the toughest of mail and leather armor. Preventive medicine is the best course of action when dealing with Azerothian Tarantulas. For those allergic to spider bites this often leads to chest pain and difficulty breathing.

Another type of defense mechanism Azerothian Tarantulas have are their urticating hair or irritating bristles. While not present at birth, appearance of these bristles show up after each molt. Did you know that their are different types of bristles that are used to target different enemies. For example, their are used to deliver more of a direct contact while others are flicked off to potential predator or enemy. They do the latter by turning around and flicking the bristles at a pursuing predator. If the predator is stubborn enough and blocking the Tarantula’s route of escape the Tarantula will then swivel around and attempt to bite. It’s recommended that eye and mouth guards to be worn these Spiders since urticating hair is most effective in the eyes and respiratory system. If one is especially sensitive long sleeved garments are recommended.

Now you are probably wondering what sort of predator does a large Azerothian Spider have. And that would be the parasitic Wasps. Often Wasps will attack these spiders and if that wasn’t enough lay their eggs on their body. These eggs will then hatch and gorge themselves while the Tarantula is still alive. With how aggressive Wasps tend to be on both Azeroth and Draenor, I have a hypothesis that it was perhaps these insects that led to a possible extinction in places such as Pandaria and Draenor.

After laying their eggs, female Azerothian Tarantulas will wrap them in a protective cocoon and guard over them for about 6 to 9 weeks. Even more impressive is they can lay anywhere from 50 to 1000 eggs. Sometimes even more. Reasonably when guarding her egg sac a female will be more aggressive than usual. Often the female will rotate this sac every so often as to preventive her hatchlings from being deformed as a result of sitting too long.

Finally Azerothian Spiders have a unique circulatory system. Unlike most beasts and humanoids that have a complex system of capillaries, Tarantulas along with other spiders and other insects have a open circulatory system. Also they possess a fluid like plasma known as hemolymph rather than actual blood. Instead of traveling in a closed system, the hemolymph seeps through the tissues and collects in small pockets on the underside of the Tarantula, then flows back to the heart which is a slender shaped organ located in the upper part of its abdomen. Because of its open circulatory system, if the exoskeleton is breached it will be fatal to the beast unless the wound is small enough for the hemolymph to dry and clot over.

Overall Azerothian Tarantulas were just another fascinating type of creature to add to this zoology journal. Til then, fellow researchers.

[daydreamingic]

[Kaliskae, Short #1] OOC Moment In-Character.

Kaliskae didn’t like Orgrimmar. The crowded streets, the nosy guards and patrons, the heat that exacerbated her never ending bloodlust. No matter how many potions she drank to subdue the sensation, no matter how many souls she slaughtered on the battlefield in the name of the Horde, the cravings always returned and it was worse in hotter climates.

The mages in Draenor didn’t ask questions when she requested the portal. She’d spent one too many flights fighting against a bucking rylek before resigning herself to the discomfort of arcane travel. She wore simple leathers, a hooded cloak, and goggles she’d handcrafted to hide her eyes and enhance her vision. She couldn’t help the icy chill that enveloped her being, but she would do her best to avoid others and the conflict that typically ensued.

Teeth gritted, Kaliskae reached for the portal and braced herself as the world around her began to shift and distort. Several seconds of disconcerting, roiling chaos later, and she stumbled onto firm ground in the Cleft of Shadow. Fel users twittered among the shadows. She ignored them as she stomped to regained her balance before tucking her cloak around her and setting off toward the Drag.

A chime made with broken cogs and springs jangled above the entry as she stepped into Nogg’s Machine Shop. Thund, the broad orc that apprenticed to the goblins there, caught sight of her dark cloak and smiled.

“My, my, Kaliskae,” he thundered, crossing the machine shop in great strides to reach out and clasp her extended hand in a tight shake that led to a brief, uncomfortable hug. He slapped her on the back as he stepped back. “It’s been a few moons. I was beginning to think you’d figured it out.”

She snorted at him and followed him across the shop to his workbench. “Not likely,” she grumbled. “Pliers and tweezers aren’t are nimble as tiny fingers.”

“Why do you think they’re such naturals? Look at them go.” He nodded at the head engineers. They both watched as the goblins worked, fingers tucking and twisting tiny pieces into impossibly small nooks and crannies. “How many assemblies did you break this time?”

Kaliskae leveled her gaze at him and her goggles clicked, lenses zooming out and focusing on him. “All of them.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less,” he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I could bore you with the cartel gossip and how the trade wars are beginning to affect ore prices, but the hut’s empty out back. I’ll work on them,” he jerked a thumb toward the engineers that had crafted the original assemblies, “and bring you the parts. No price guarantees this time.”

She scowled at him but turned toward the rear exit as the cogs above the entrance jangled, a couple of orcs walking in. Having a risen one as company wasn’t good for business, no matter how accepted they were on the front lines.

The hut in the rear had a small forge and anvil, plenty of materials, and several long, scarred wooden tables. Soon the tables were covered with bits of scrap metal, cogs, screws, and rolls of wire as she worked on the prototype. The commander had requested a gift for a local child, a worthless robot compared to the destructive creations she could offer. Gold was gold, so she took the commission, unaware that the size of her project would cause such strife.

She’d finished four other prototypes and smashed them to pieces when the assemblies broke, her temper snapping with the fragile pieces. Her fingers were too large to maneuver the tiny metallic components between shifting plates on the neck of the metal pup, where she’d hidden the toggle switch. Those failures were followed by days spent in the gully behind the garrison, venting her frustration on ravagers and providing plenty of fur and meat for the fellow officers.

“Not this time,” Kaliskae muttered as she began another frame.

She sculpted and shaped the outer panels one by one, making sure they shifted over the others smoothly before creating limbs, head, and a long, balanced tail. It was a slight modification from a base schematic she’d used to make other critters, but this was a frostwolf that would click and snap and occasionally throw back its head and let out a long horn-howl.

When she was finished, a shiny metal pup sat on the table in front of her, head down, neck plates gaped to help install the assembly. She unsnapped her goggles and sat the on the counter, rolled her shoulders, and stood. Methodically she replaced her tools in her leather bags and cleaned her work space, sorting and organizing the remaining pieces into various containers and storage bins scattered around the hut.

When the only thing left on the table was her pup, she walked around it slowly, appraising. She looked for surface flaws that the typical buff and polish wouldn’t remove and found none. The slow smile that spread across her face was satisfied.

Two new assemblies sat on the table closest to the door. Ignoring her impulse, she trudged back into the shop and caught one of the goblin’s attention. He nodded and followed her back to the hut.

“Thund said ya’d had some problems, let me tell ya these suckers are del-i-cate, tiny little parts--” he glanced up at her as he worked the piece between the neck plates. “And while you’ve really done a job crafting this one, I gotta say I don’t know why you would make toys.”

She crossed her arms and didn’t answer. The goblin rolled his eyes and set the tiny piece into place with a small click!

“Got ya, baby,” he smirked at the pup and shifted the neck plates into place. Fingers hovering over the toggle, he looked up at Kaliskae and asked, “Do ya mind--?”

“Actually, I do,” she cut in, and took a heavy step toward him. “If you don’t mind.”

He pulled his hand back quickly, as if he’d been stung, expression twisting into a scowl as he stepped away from the table. “Fine then. But put those goggles back on, your eyes are freaky. And see Thund about the cost,” he snapped over his shoulder as he left the hut.

Ignoring the goggle remark, she moved to the pup and flicked the toggle switch into the ‘on’ position. Mechanical life sparked into being and the pup blinked up at her, faint blue glow flickering within its eyes. It sat back, tail wagging across the tabletop, and whined.

“You’re a life giver,” a small, awed voice spoke from behind her and Kaliskae froze. She’d whirled and pinned the thing to the wall before the haze of bloodlust lifted and enough sense returned that she could see it was an orc whelp with dark brown skin and wide eyes. Not a threat. Not really frightened, either, as it blinked at her. Interesting.

“Not quite,” she said, her voice as flat and cold as her skin as she stepped back and gave the orc room to move. “I connect switches and route circuits, that’s all.”

The orc approached the wolf pup slowly and the wolf pup sprang up on all fours, tail wagging in the air furiously, mouth open and panting. The whelp cautiously extended one fist, waited for the pup to catch his scent and nuzzle his fist before extending his own fingers to run over it’s metallic plates.

“It’s alive,” the orc insisted stubbornly, waving his other hand in front of the pup and watching it attempt to pounce on his fast moving fingers.

Kaliske deliberately leveled her ice-blue glare at the orc.

“I do not give life, little one. I take it.”

“My matron says we should avoid your kind, but you didn’t have a choice, did you?”

She tried to quell the snarl that caused her lip and nostril to twitch on one side. The orc sat back on his heels but still didn’t look scared nor inclined to run. That was a question she couldn’t answer, though she had asked herself the same thing many times over. Sometimes she thought she could still hear the whispers of her Master in the back of her mind, shifting and seeping in just beyond her realm of consciousness, and she wasn’t sure if his shadows were frightening or appealing--

“My father said the most noble are the ones that take control back when life takes it away.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And where is your father, when he should be teaching you?”

“Dead. A few of our clan survived but they were needed in Draenor to guide the Horde’s army. They wouldn’t let us - orphans they called us - help. We knew the land better than our elders!” He spoke vehemently, raising his arms to show how much more the ‘orphans’ knew. “All the tiny nooks and crannies. Guess if they were all your size it wouldn’t matter anyway.” He looked down and scuffed the floor with his bare feet. In the distance a whistle blowed and he frowned. “I gotta go, it’s almost dinner.”

Kaliskae was already snapping her goggles back on, tightening the strap and twisting the lenses into focus, when the orc reached the doorway.

“Wait,” she said, watching the mechanical pup that had stopped moving and was cocking its head from side to side as the orc walked away. A whine had begun deep in its throat. Grudgingly, she said, “I think it likes you.”

Joy overcame the orc as he sprinted back and reached for the pup that yapped in excitement. He placed it on the ground and ran through the doorway, the mechanical pup clicking and panting puffs of steam as it ran after him. “Thanks, lady!” she heard the whelp call as he took off.

She frowned and turned back toward the workspace. Time to unpack her tools and start the sixth prototype. A whole afternoon’s work wasted, all for a nosy whelp. At least the goblins had made an extra assembly... *** ((This was written for a challenge I found on the forums. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t realize until rereading the rules after I posted the ficlet that it was supposed to be written in first person. Whoops! I had fun writing it and sharing it, so I’m glad I did it... but next time, I’ll take better care when reading the rules (and maybe not wait until the last minute to edit and post?).))

[daydreamingic]

What's up? Oh, not much, just working on my garrison.

[daydreamingic]

Saaaame or I never quite know how to start walk-ups or [insert a thousand other reasons here that basically all involve anxiety/being nervous]. I am on Wyrmrest Accord and my characters are all pretty much solo/loners at the moment. If you feel like company with someone who is just as much of an outsider, I am here.

This goes for anyone/everyone, really. I keep telling myself that joining a guild will help this problem but I haven't made it that far yet (I have alt-itis and want to write profiles for everyone before I commit, okay). Also open to all the muse memes, random characters asks, RP starters/para, etc. Battle.net: Carelessly#1349

I love to RP, but I’m always afraid to RP with people on my home server because they all seem to have established friendships and I’m just an outsider. I have an extensive backstory for my character but no one to share it with.

Darskovia (Admin) - I’m not sure what server you RP on but Argent Dawn EU it’s like a wolf pit. There are however a small number of people with hearts of gold that I wouldn’t trade for the world. If you ever find yourself on Argent Dawn, just whisper Darskovia, I’m on most days and are happy to RP with anyone or even offer advice and tips.

[daydreamingic]

[Nee’fon, Entry #3] Speaking.

A few weeks passed before I was able to get back to Bloodhoof Village. The stories were good like last time, but the Tauren said they were short on storytellers. I thought about it and decided to tell them a story about that trickster spider, when he lived in the forest.

Up in the trees Spider made a friend. This friend was Monkey. Monkey had a lot of food 'cause he could move fast from the ground to the trees, jumping and swinging and taking all the things he wanted. Spider didn't move that fast, just spun his web and waited and waited. And Spider was tired of waiting and watching Monkey eat all that food while his web sat empty.

Now this Spider had lived all over and he knew most of the animals and a lot of the land. On the edge of the forest was a big hole, a cave that had done fell in on itself. Since nothing was landing in his web, he crept out of his tree and went to talk with Tiger. Tiger didn't like Spider, but he really didn't like Monkey. So when Spider told Tiger he had a plan to get rid of Monkey and fill Tiger's belly, Tiger listened.

"Get in that hole and cry. I'll do the rest," Spider promised, and Tiger jumped down in the hole.

Back in the trees, Spider asked Monkey to go for a ride. "I can't move fast like you, and I wanna see the edge of this forest today. Lemme sit on ya shoulder." Monkey couldn't imagine not swinging through the trees fast, only creeping and dangling like Spider, so of course he let his friend climb onto his shoulder.

In minutes they were at the big hole and at the bottom was Tiger. He was crying and mewling for help, like a big ol’ kitty.

"That hole is deep but your tail is long," Spider crept into Monkey's ear and whispered so the Tiger wouldn't hear him. "You could help that Tiger climb out, maybe he'd protect ya for it."

Monkey didn't like Tiger cause Tiger tried to eat Monkey, but the Tiger was strong and Spider made a good case. So Monkey called down to the Tiger and the Tiger begged him to help, promised he'd do anything for help out. Spider didn't move from Monkey's ear while Monkey climbed to the edge of the hole and clung to a rock, dangling his tail down so the Tiger could grab ahold.

When the Tiger had a good grip on Monkey’s tail, Spider bit Monkey inside his ear as hard as he could. Monkey let go of the rock and down, down, down they fell, into the pit with Tiger. The fall hurt Monkey and Tiger got to work on his supper right away. While Tiger was eating, Spider snuck out of Monkey's ear and crawled up the side of the cave and back into the trees.

Neither Tiger nor Monkey could get out of the hole alone, and Spider went back and ate all of Monkey's food. Then it was time for him to move on. Tricksters gotta be on the move, y'see, or their reputation will catch 'em.

I winked at the crowd and walked back to my spot by the fire. Not bad, my friends. Maybe next week I’ll have another to tell them.

***

[daydreamingic]

Ansrael: Simple Character Sheet

Ansrael Nightbloom Kaldorei Druid (still training), combat healer, herbalist and fledgling alchemist.

Age: Adult

Gender: Female

Job/Profession: Ansrael currently tends a garden. She sells herbs and various potions that she creates. She spent many years as a combat medic and healer for the Alliance before she decided to pursue training in druidism. Her abilities have always been part of her but it was something she was expected to stifle as she grew up in a very traditional Kaldorei household. Her father was a druid and her mother was a ranger (as she was expected to be when she reached maturity). Physical Description: Average for Kaldorei. She moves with nimble, quiet movements and most do not notice her passing, despite her height and muscular stature. Bits of bark can be observed tangled in her hair, leaves caught in the seams and creases of her simple, mismatched leather armor. Both the fingertips of her gloves and her hands are stained from many moons spent working with plants and tinctures.

Personality Description: Quiet but friendly. She is reserved with most until she gets to know them. Estranged from her traditional family, she seeks deep connections with others to balance the void left by those broken ties... and I worry that when she finds companions that she will be loyal to a fault, even if those loyalties are questionable.

General Notes: She fell in love with a Draenei Mage while they fought the Burning Legion in Outland. Her partner fell in battle, in front of her, and Ansrael still wears a bit of her armor on a cord beneath her clothes. This is something that still haunts her and romantic relationships may not be possible for her (yes, I said ‘her armor’ -- Ansrael is queer and her lover was female).

Unusual Notes: Ansrael was born with an inherent ability to draw upon the healing powers of nature. Studying druidism wasn’t acceptable for females in Kaldorei culture, so she was forced to hide and stifle her abilities. Transformations can still go awry for her. She fought against the Nightmare after the Sundering and she doesn’t like the thought of returning to the Emerald Dream to train, but events during the Lunar Festival prompted her to consider formal training again.

Secrets: She considers transformations without reason to be irresponsible but she can’t resist flight. When she takes wing on the wind, all of her mortal thoughts fade and she flies. It’s a guilty pleasure.

History: When she joined the Alliance, her father was lost in the Emerald Dream and her mother stopped speaking to her. She doesn’t visit Darnassus often and has lost touch with those that grew up with her in the same village.

Current Going-On (if any): Considering her options now that the war in Draenor has begun to settle. She has many scholarly interests, particularly in the field of alchemy.

[daydreamingic]

Nee’fon: Simple Character Sheet

Nee’fon Troll Soothsayer/Voodoo Dabbler (Priest)

Age: Older adult

Gender: Female 

Job/Profession: Soothsayer. She communicates with the spirits through reading cards. She can provide assistance on the battlefield but her connection with the spirits is powerful and they can take over (shadowform)... 

Physical Description: She is tall, broad shouldered, and she moves with confidence. Dark eyes glower from beneath her heavy brow and her lips curl around sharp, pointed tusks. Thick, tangled braids are pulled back from her face and hang down her back, adorned with beads, bits of metal, glass, feathers, and bone. Her hair rattles when she moves her head quickly. She has several piercings in her ears and a curved bone through her septum. 

Personality Description: Nee’s voice is gruff and deep. She laughs loudly, often at her own mutterings. She gestures when she speaks, hands shaping the intentions of her words. She is an observer but will often join the conversation. She doesn’t understand the concept of boundaries or modesty, but she knows that times and cultures have changed and she’s trying to figure out if the Horde is the place for her. 

General Notes: Nee’fon is new to the Horde and she is taking odd jobs for gold while she studies with the Darkspear. She doesn’t speak much of her past except to say that she’s spent time in the Eastern Kingdoms, particularly swamplands. Her accent is mild and she speaks casual, broken Orcish fairly well.

Unusual Notes: She is always accompanied by a mountain skunk she calls Cat. You’ll have to ask her. 

Secrets: “Dey wouldn’t be my secrets if I told ya,” Nee says with a wink. 

History: She is vague regarding her history. It will either come out over time or it won’t, but she’s not ready to share. 

Current Going-On (if any): OOC: I want to find a guild for her! IC: A distant cousin sent her a large crate of rescued Zandalari Raptors from the Timeless Isles and she is debating hosting a Raptor Rescue in Orgrimmar to find them suitable homes (they are teething and her ankles are covered in nips and bitemarks). In town she overheard something about a fishing event on Darkmoon Isle Friday evening (8 PM server time at the Darkmoon Isle Dock, hosted by someone else--I snagged a calendar invite through Trade but it’s open for all) and she plans on dusting off her bone fishing pole to attend.

[daydreamingic]

Send me random questions about my characters so I can develop them more.

[daydreamingic]

OOC: Quick update.

It’s been a quiet week or two from me. I have lots of posts in progress for different characters, lots of To Dos (character profiles!!), and I’m in the process of transferring everyone to Wyrmrest Accord. I made a banner and modified my tumblr theme a bit. Still not 100% happy with it but I like it better than I did.

This week looks busy so my WoW focuses are going to be writing, getting this updated, and applying to guilds for a couple specific characters. <3

TLDR; I’m tired. I’m lurking. I’m writing. I’ll be back.

[daydreamingic]

Another WRA RPer over here! *waves* I’m still a beginner and trying to get more involved. I have both Horde and Alliance characters <3

WrA RPers

Hey there every one! I’m looking to get more involved with WrA Role players. If you could reblog this so that I can start to follow some of the role players who frequent Wyrmrest Accord I would appreciate that! Time to get back into the flow of things. 

[daydreamingic]

Ask My Characters Anything: Round Table #1

Ask My Characters Anything: Round Table #1

@ Zenithas - WyrmrestAccord-US

Did your character get into a lot of trouble as a kid?

“Okay guys,” I begin as I settle into my squeaky desk chair at the head of the long wooden table, “I told you we were going to begin having question and answer sessions. No grumbling, Kaliskae,” I reprimand lightly as I hear the Tauren begin to mutter in her rough, metallic voice, words lost inside her plate helm. “This will help me get to know everyone. I tried this once with fanfic muses a long time ago...”

More than a few pairs of eyes roll in my direction.

“Whatever, I still love fanfic,” I say, continuing before anyone else can interrupt, “but we’re going to move on! We'll start on my right,” I nod at Ansrael, the tall Kaldorei druid to my right who watches me with narrow eyes, “and work our way around the table and end with...” I stare at the goblin on my left. “Quiz, you weren’t here.”

“I want to be here, doesn’t that count?” She pops gum loudly and smiles at me, showing off her teeth. Her eyes are wide and bright with mock innocence. “C’mon, you’ve been thinking about it, and I would have so much fun.”

She’s right. I have been considering transfers. I want to wait for another sale but... I don’t know.

“Whatever.” I’m not arguing with my own characters. Not yet. “Let’s do this. First question!

“Did you get into a lot of trouble as a kid?”

Ansrael smiles at the thought of her childhood. “Only when my mother caught hints of my druidism. I couldn’t study until very recently but I’ve always been adept at communing with the natural world around me. I remember showing one of the boys that I could grow whiskers and a tail like my mother’s saber companion. I couldn’t reverse the transformation until my father talked me through it.” Her smile turns bittersweet and she looks down at tabletop, picking at the clear coating that was beginning to flake off. “My mother didn’t find it amusing.”

“I was always in trouble,” Maurisette cuts in before Ansrael can continue, attention shifting to the pale human who looks tiny compared to the blue Kaldorei next to her. She gestures with her hands as she speaks. “We were poor, lived in the slums, and us kids would roam in our packs, getting into fights if we crossed our rivals. Downright ugly we were at times, throwing rocks through store windows ‘cause we could, smokin’ when we could steal ‘em from our parents, scrappin’ over anything we found. Can’t tell ya how many times the coppers took me home, but my parents were never home ‘cause they were always working, yeah? Couple of the cops took interest in seeing me out of it, guess they saw something I didn’t. Landed me my job, working as a guard in the prison. Bit ugly at times but so am I, so.” She finishes with a wolfy grin, looking around the table to make sure all eyes are on her.

The Draenei next to Maurisette simply shakes her head.

Across from me, at the foot of the table, a large, broad Tauren covered in plate armor moves to pull her helmet off. The room feels colder when she looks up, taking in the others with her icy blue stare.

“Only when I was caught,” Kaliskae says, voice devoid of emotion.

Maurisette chuckles and Quiz giggles behind her hands, nails sporting bright yellow nail. Kaliskae places her helm on the tabletop and I know she’s finished speaking, just as I know she wouldn’t want me to retell the stories from her youthful days in Thousand Needles. They are hers to tell, when she’s ready.

Some places are empty now that I thought were filled before. I narrow my eyes at one seat in particular but move on.

Kahune’s booming laughter fills the room. “Of course! What respectable orc doesn’t get in trouble as a whelp?” There is a gleam in her eyes that makes me think I don’t know the half of her story. She clasps her hands together in front of her and continues to speak.  “Our elders were quick to remind us that our clan’s path was one of honor, but the young must learn and grow, too.” As she speaks, she unfolds her fingers and opens her hands in front of her, palms up. “We are meant to learn from our lessons,” and her eyes settle on the Tauren at the end of the table, “but our life paths are not that different from one generation to the next.”

Kaliskae snorts loudly but the others look thoughtful. Whether the shaman meant to soothe us with her words and gesture or not, the room is warmer than Kaliskae’s words had left it.

“Nee?” I prompt the troll next to Kahune. She’s scooted back from the table some, slouching in her chair, lids heavy, fingers crossed over her abdomen. She raises a lazy eyebrow at me. “You want to talk?”

Slowly she stretches, growing in size as she moves to sit upright and straighten her shoulders, fingers still crossed as she reaches in front of her with her arms and cracks her knuckles.

There is a small pouch tied at her waist and she pulls a large deck of cards from the pouch. The others watch, Quiz leaning close with wide eyes as Nee gives the cards a loose shuffle.

She splits the deck in half, placing the top half on the bottom and flipping the now-top card faceup on the table in front of her. “Queen o’ da Wands,” she declares, voice as smooth as slow as her movements. “See, dis lady is proud and dominant. Fiery. See da ceremonial robes? Da ornate wand, beamin’ with da light?” She taps the card with one finger as she speaks. “Her guardian--dat’s da cat at her feet--watches all. She gets what she wants ‘cause she goes an’ gets it. Might burn down a few bridges if she can’t be careful wit’ dat wand, but she ain’t gonna let it get in her way. She a good soul and friend, but she gonna be known.” With a wide grin that nearly splits her face in half and bears her tusks proudly, Nee says, “Da spirits haven’t let me down yet.”

“Ooh,” Quizkly exclaims, “Do mine next!” She claps excitedly as Nee places the card back in the deck. Nee doesn’t speak, eyes closing as she holds the deck in her hands for a few long breaths, finally eyelids fluttering open as she replaces the cards in their satchel on her hip.

Quizkly shrugs and says brightly, “My turn! I’m Quizkly. You can call me Quiz. I’m fast, I like to stab and steal things, and... oh, this was about being kids, right?” She laughs. “She got me all mixed up,” she snickers and points at Nee. “‘Da spirits’ in my head now.”

Kaliskae eyes are creased with possible amusement but no one else is laughing. Quizkly doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Okay, so! Yeah, I was a good kid, actually. Studied, got good grades, was really gonna do something with my life, you know, like be an engineer and go to the moons or something! Travel way out there!” She punches the air in front of her with her fists. “Give the universe that ol’ one-two, make a big name for myself, yadda yadda.”

“Then what?” Kahune asks, one brow arched loftily.

“I found out I liked gold and stabbing things more,” and this time her grin is sharky. “Power. That’s what I wanted as a kid. To have the control. I found a way that doesn’t involve too much grease, if you know what I’m sayin’,” and she winks. “I pretend to work in makeup. I develop the polish for the ladies that are getting stuff done, polish that won’t chip no matter what. Not telling ya what it’s made with, but it gets the job done.”

“Bet it couldn’t last a week with my training routine,” Maurisette snarks.

“Pretend was the keyword, lady. The prototype won’t come off ever. Not off skin, not off nails, not off metal... nothin’. I tell ‘em it’s still in development but I’m not touching that crap again. It, uh, might have had something to do with the oozeling matter from the Hinterlands that I acquired in Booty Bay, but no risk, no reward, am I right?” She finishes with a rush of words, beaming again.

“Okay,” I say, redirecting their attention back to me now that we’ve come full circle. “Quick break before we resume, this took longer than I expected.”

***

((Woah. This is way longer than I expected and filled three solid pages on Google Docs. I really enjoyed it but doing this with each question? Yikes, we will see!

One of the characters I expected to answer did not for a very specific reason that made itself known as I was writing. I need to write her backstory now XD))

[daydreamingic]

[Nee'fon, Entry #2] Listening.

I've been enjoying the tavern but I haven't had luck with the strangers (the frog venom brews are tasty but too many and my head gets muddled, the rambling spirits start talking louder than the living). Happened to overhear mention of a story circle and caught a flying ship to Thunder Bluff. Flying ships. Just when I think I've seen all there is, I see something new.

Mulgore is full of grassy plains. Quiet land. Some at the village gave my skunk a dark eye. I'm not telling if they not asking, but Cat's trained. He stays close, don't stink 'em up if they not bothering us.

It started raining but the people stayed. Big group, even saw a couple of other trolls. Can't remember the last time I listened to stories. They weren't the stories of my people, but they were good stories. They come together every week to tell their tales. Next week I think I'll tell them one of mine, maybe about that spider loa...

Got some work around this village if I want it, helping balance the wildlife on the plains. Too many cougars, not enough hares and birds. The Tauren think about the life cycle, try to balance it so it works for all. Not my way, but I'll take the work. I'm here, might as well hunt a few cougars. Right after I finish the last of this flask... *** ((The event was a Story Circle and it was great. So far I dig the public events on both Alliance and Hordeside Wyrmrest Accord!))

[daydreamingic]

[Ansrael, Entry #3] May the Stars Guide Me.

Stormwind again. I won’t bother with excuses. There is something comforting about the diversity and anonymity within the city walls. Ironforge lacks the open sky and I have little interest in returning to Kalimdor at present. There is a small gathering at the gazebo near the lake (and the tree) tonight. Tales will be told in celebration of the Lunar Festival. My excitement grows as does the crowd. It has been too long since I have sat and listened to tales spun with spoken words. I miss the warmth of a large campfire in the middle of a story circle, but this stone bench is comfortable enough.

Ah, the Festival.

I did not return to Darnassus but I have spent the past week with feathers to the wind, seeking Elders in the Eastern Kingdoms. I walked through the jungles of Stranglethorn Vale and spoke of the infinite wisdom above me, waiting for me to look up for guidance. I stared at the night sky until I was dizzy. Outlined in the stars, I saw a fierce protector rear up, head thrown back to roar, claws outstretched...

I thought the urge to visit with the Elders was whimsical, but Elune is my guide. I have no one to protect with the strength of the bear, but I know I require further training as a druid if I am to be of continued use to the Alliance. My path is clear: the bear has signaled to me during the Lunar Festival. I have an invitation to visit Moonglade in my satchel. I may never feel ready, but it is time.

(Her star was the tip of the bear’s nose.) While traveling I noted things in passing that merit attention (unaffected liferoot growing in the Plaguelands?). I did not take samples or risk distraction by exploration, lest I get distracted from my impromptu sabbatical, but I have always enjoyed the study of herbs and plants. There are many things I have seen on the battlefield that I would like to learn, that requires travel and discussion with others...

Someone has stood to speak. The event is beginning. ...

A gnome provided me with a small device that captures images. The images can be transferred to paper through mechanical means. I tested it during the readings tonight. Stormwind University hosted the Literary Conclave and it was quite enjoyable. Several tales, songs, and a quick, jaunty poem that left most with pink cheeks, even as they snickered. I left as the others began to disperse. Tonight I will rest by the lake and tomorrow... Tomorrow I take my tattered invitation and return to Moonglade. *** ((The event was Stormwind University’s Literary Conclave and both Ansrael and I thought it was great!))

[daydreamingic]

[Nee'fon, Entry #1] Hunger.

Orgrimmar is bigger than they said. I've seen some empires in my time but nothing like this. Can't find stone walls with shifting engravings, no bloody sacrifices in the streets, and it don't feel like no home I've known, but it's comfortable. Some of the buildings are as tall as the mountains, towering over the streets below. The city grows into the sky.

Lots of different types, too. I could talk about the elves with their pale skin or the Tauren that look like -- but my stomach's already been rumbling. Lots of good smells here. Ain't okay to be that kinda troll these days, but I ain't the only one thinking it.

Ah, it's been too long since I've been out of the swamp. I forgot what it felt like to walk beneath the sun. How dry it is here, so dry my skin starting to split. Gonna have to find a butcher and get me some fat. Nothing like bear fat to get the skin soft. Or... got to stop thinking about the old ways, but ya know we all made of the same things. Meat and blood and bones. Just think differently, the bear ain't got my interests. But he still eat his own when it come down to it.

Got to eat soon.

Some Darkspear troll in--Ratchet? Lots of goblins. I want to kick 'em. Sharp teeth, eyes, tongues--could cut some of them out and roast them. But the goblins not bad, either. Just different.

He was stretching leathers and he sold me this journal, said he made it. Said something about learning from our history, too. I told him I didn't think trolls documented much unless it was on a stone tablet. Our stories last til the weather wear them away.

Been on the other side of the world for a long time. Now I'll explore here. I saw plenty over there but I didn't like that city of death. Don't like them unliving sorts, walking after they supposed to pass on. Them spirits belong to -- well, I'm proving myself to Bwonsamdi. Sounds a bit like Samedi, don't it? All kinds of things changing...

I been tangled with the voodoo so long that I don't get spooked by stray spirits, but the undead up and walking ain't right. Can't be around all that, now, not even if we all fighting under the same flag.

My favorite place was that swamp. I studied with strong trolls but they were misguided. My people always been quick to move, even if it ain't in the right direction.

Swamp days are gone. I'm here now and I'm gonna eat their meat and drink their mead and read my cards. Don't know where it'll go with this Darkspear and their Horde. The path is muddled but the spirits be helping me find my way.

[daydreamingic]

[Nee'fon, RP Starter #1] Gonna Read Da Cards.

Nee nods to Gravy, the bartender at The Wyvern’s Tail in Orgrimmar, and orders her usual Frog Venom Brew. It’s bitter and sour with a thick foam and an aftertaste she has to chase with another swig. Lost in her thoughts, she sits at a side table and begins to rifle through her bag. A thick wax candle is the first item she pulls out. It’s old, once white but now yellowed with many trails of wax that have dripped down the sides. Her battered deck of cards come next and she leaves the stack facedown. The backs are decorated with a swirl of dark colors and small suns, moons, and stars. The last things she places on the table are a thick roll of incense and a small, square-ish goblin-made contraption that holds a small amount of fuel and strikes a flame anywhere. Beneath the table, the small skunk that follows her curls up against her feet. She lights the candle then the incense, waving the thick bundle of dried silversage and peacebloom around her, chasing away any mischievous spirits that would disturb the reading. When the air around her is thick with smoke, she stubs the incense bundle out on the battered tabletop. By the many names, stains, and burns scarring the surface, she knows she is not the first to do so. Next, she picks up her cards. Nee holds them in her hands and stares into the distance, eyes half-lidded. After a moment she blinks, straightens, shuffles the deck loosely three times, cuts it into three stacks of cards, recombines them, and flips the top card face-up. The Chariot. An empowered individual in charge and moving forward to battle with full confidence in upcoming accomplishments. An important time in one’s life that requires focused energy and dedication to get things done. It fits perfectly because she is, she thinks, finally going to get things done. She can’t help the loud laugh that escapes because the spirits never let her down. Time to brush off the small things that hold her back and charge forward and take what she deserves. Nee smirks and leaves the cards as-is, finishing her ale before she stands and returns to the bar for another. On the way back she glances around the bar and says in common with her slight Zandali accent, “The spirits in a fine mood tonight. Anyone got questions for ‘em while da cards still warm?” *** OOC: Nee is a troll soothsayer and based off my PvE main, Carelessly. Instead of transferring at this time, I'm going to roll a little alt and sit in The Wyvern's Tail (or Darkmoon Island when the Faire is in town) and read cards for gold. This is going to be my premise (walk up to the bartender, sit and spread the cards around her and see what happens). Your character have questions for the spirits? Sit down and see what they say...

[daydreamingic]

[Ansrael, Short #1] "At Least Dreams End."

“We must never intermingle with outsiders, Ansrael. They are not like us. We are born of the stars; they are born of the ground. Work alongside them, if you must. Times have changed, unfavorably for the Kaldorei. Never get caught up in their petty fights and ambitious wars. Stay here, at home with your own kind.” A medium fire burned in the middle of the large leather tent, and a wide gap where the leathers met above the fire allowed smoke to escape. The long halved logs that acted as benches were wet and sap-sticky, the makeshift camp thrown together the evening prior after a run-in with aggressive ravagers. She rubbed her fingers against her leathers in a vain attempt to remove the resin from her skin. The mottled Tauren shaman that accompanied the Tauren druids sat across from her, holding an intricately carved wooden pipe. The looped pattern was accented with bright red and white paint and he held it up to the firelight, eyeing it from different angles. Tamuul. His name was Tamuul. She sat across from him in that tent... years ago? Her mind was foggy, unable to focus on where or when she was at present. “My mate made this,” he said in broken common, words thick on his tongue. It’s beautiful, she wanted to say. Couldn’t. It felt like tendrils were snaking up through her chest, cutting off her air supply. One hand curled around the twisted bit of metallic shrapnel she had begun wearing on a sturdy leather cord around her neck. Ansrael swallowed. “We all feel your pain.” Tamuul picked a long, thick splinter off his bench. He leaned forward and held the tip of the splinter into the fire, flames licking around the shard of wood. “It radiates from you.” He used the flaming splinter to light his pipe, inhaling deeply. “You need to visit the dreaming?” Fragrant smoke accentuated his words. No. She wasn’t sure why the objection was so vehement, but her instinctive response insisted that visiting the Emerald Dream was a bad idea. Much like bad things do in dreams, the idea had already begun to take hold and the tendrils she felt in her throat grew fat and long, forcing themselves out through her mouth, her nose, suffocating her... Her heart pounded. She stood next to her mother, holding her first bow. She named it Willow’s Branch after the slender tree that gave her permission to remove one of its thick, sturdy bottom branches. She carved and cured the wood herself. Her mother let her pick the handspun silk bowstring from the outdoor market. Ansrael remembered the pride she felt that night, standing straight with her shoulders back, ready to go on patrol. She’d wanted to show her bow to the village, perhaps even her father. “He dreams to keep us safe. We hunt.” Her mother smiled down at her and Ansrael saw her mouth was full of sharp fangs. Fangs that twisted at the end, sharp points turning brown, like dying roots. Her mother turned away. A clever wild imp separated them in the woods and forced her mother to draw it away, leaving Ansrael alone. She remembered hiding in the trunk of a tree until dawn, when her mother found her, bow clutched tightly in her arms. But now she was running through the forest and the imp wasn’t there. Something dark crashed through the woods behind her, large body slamming against trees as it fumbled toward her. She saw the stone jutting from the ground too late. Her foot caught the edge and her world went sideways as she fell, slamming into the ground. She couldn’t draw breath and the forest spun as she forced numb limbs to move. With a limp heave, she sprawled on her back. The white light of Elune blazed through the treetops and she drew a gasping breath, lungs beginning to respond again. Elune disappeared as her vision filled with blazing fel green eyes and sharp teeth, the same curling teeth she’d seen in her mother’s mouth before, except now they reached for Ansrael, stretching into withered tentacles that lunged toward her face, and her vision turned brown... Brown like wet earth, thick and sticky. She stumbled back, feet caught in ankle-deep mud. So much mud. It had been raining for a moon cycle and the dam above the encampment had begun to groan as the weight of excess water overburdened its simple design. A village sat downstream and would suffer if the dam broke. Ansrael was one of nearly a dozen that formed a semicircle in front of the dam, chanting and lending their strength to the land as the rain refused to relent. The dam could only moan in response, wooden beams shifting and snapping as the water’s pressure built. Lightning struck. Their small hollow was illuminated by brilliant light, air turning sharp with the charge of electricity, and then the crash of thunder followed. Someone near her cried out, their concentration broke, and the dam shattered. Wood and metal split and water rushed at them, then over them, nature’s fury dragging everything under. She couldn’t see in the dirty water, current too strong to attempt swimming, couldn’t breathe, vision beginning to darken at the edges, and she felt tendrils slip around her ankles and yank her down, into the darkness... "I've lost everything I have ever known," the musical, lilting voice murmured against her skin, and long fingers slipped between her own. Squeezed. "Yet I am at peace, having known you." Her eyes weren’t open but she felt the warmth of the body against hers, the love and affection that her companion felt for her thick in the air. Her own love for the mage surged in return, growing in her chest until it felt like she might burst into bloom. The perfection of the memory was deceitful and she knew she couldn’t allow herself to drown, knew it was going to turn like the others, that the soft furs piled beneath them were an illusion, that the long line of hip she traced with her free hand didn’t exist. She would gladly have died in the memory, gone under permanently with the taste of someone else on her lips, but it was going to turn and she knew. No, Ansrael thought, desperate as the fingers between hers began to fade... Ansrael wasn’t far behind when the defensive line fell, some of their best combat units collapsing under the onslaught of Shattered Hand orcs. She pulled as much as she could from the land, ancient spells of regrowth spoken of their own accord in her voice. She felt her skin harden and split, like bark, and her form shifted as nature began to give back through her. A spear slammed into the Draenei mage standing a few feet away and Ansrael’s world jerked to a halt. Stricken eyes met her own and arcane energy sputtered between the mage’s outstretched hands, spell dissipating. The Draenei stumbled forward on her cloven feet. Ansrael turned before she could watch her lover fall, emotion stirring a storm inside, and she felt fangs grow as she bared her teeth toward the front line. She gave her emotion an outlet: the land beneath the orcs shuddered, a few of them falling as the earth below split with a mighty roar, enough land pulling apart to swallow the length small village. Orcs tumbled into the pit with cries of alarm and the soft ground shifted back into place, over them, silencing their yells deep beneath the surface. This time it opened beneath her, too, and she surrendered to the darkness. *** Ansrael woke in a tangle of tree limbs and feathers, caught in a warped transformation. It took all of her concentration to separate the partial shifts, allowing her to return safely to her elven form. She lay in the small bed at the inn, feet hanging over the edge, and clutched the piece of armor she still wore on a cord beneath her leathers, years later. She'd never heeded her mother's words and would never regret her decision. Her comrades thought the week she’d spent as a tree was grief, her green leaves shifting fully through brilliant hues before they died and fell. Her limbs were barren when she returned to herself. The forced hibernation replenished her physical form, as she'd taken on something far beyond her abilities. She didn’t tell them that she wouldn’t have minded if her consciousness had never returned. Tamuul, she thought as she recalled the vivid dream, had known that her formal training was limited. She didn't tell him that one experience with the Nightmare was enough to haunt her, Ysera’s dragonflight be damned. She reached beneath her pillow for the leather journal that she’d been using. Too much isolation wasn’t healthy, either. Maybe the reminder of the Emerald Dream was a sign, even as she resisted the thought. In her looping scrawl, heart heavy with the weight of her own nightmares, she wrote on a blank page, If you are the star Centered in my moonlit sky, Mortality is welcome.

My sun will one day set and Eternally beside you, I shall rise again. *** Prompt: dreaming