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The Stuff of Legend
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RPGDot Forums > World of Warcraft

Author Thread
xSamhainx
Paws of Doom
Paws of Doom




Joined: 11 Sep 2002
Posts: 2192
Location: San Diego
The Stuff of Legend
   

I wanted to make a thread devoted to solo adventures and encounters, since I banged this out on my lunch break today and wanted to share it. Badger has inspired me with his Morrowind tales, giving me the idea to put some of my own down on electronic paper as well.


This is a true account of a situation I found myself in last night, just after dark, near the border of Felwood:

=================================
It wasnt looking so good.

My animal companion, the mighty and loyal ThunderPaws, shrouded in the kicked-up dust of a chaotic storm of fur, teeth & claws, yelped and roared as he fought with the infuriated (and quite possibly rabid) wolf. It was difficult to land arrows on the shifty beast, and the gnarlpine wine I was sipping on as I hunted that day did my aim no justice that night. Grown somewhat overconfident by my almost effortless conquest over the other weaker hostile beasts of this neck of the woods, I failed to take such rudimentary precautions as "marking" my prey before attacking this unexpectedly strong foe. Thus, my arrows whizzed past their target sticking into the ground just beyond.

"I guess picking on a creature ridiculously stronger than myself is just asking for this in the first place..."

Alas, a lucky paralyzing shot froze the frenzied wolf for a short time, giving my pet the chance to deal some particularly brutal attacks unabated, while I landed a well-placed arrow or three to the beast's head and neck. Tho somewhat sobered and humbled by the battle, we were victorious in the end as the beast hit the forest floor, blood gushing from it's mortal wounds.

As I wiped my brow on my sleeve, this time taking a drink from my canteen of water, my ever-vigilant (albeit badly injured) guardian suddenly roared and leapt past me, pouncing on the massive Treant bearing down on me. I guess I failed to take the other basic precaution of "looking around" at all times, even in battle. Uh oh..

"what am I, some kinda newbie here??"

Like the forest itself taking revenge on me for my slaughter of it's unruly children, the Treant rushed past my slashing pet and struck me with a solid branch that felt as if it was made of Dwarven iron, knocking me to the ground dazed. Luckily, Thunderpaws had clawed his way thru the thick bark hide of the tree creature, thus drawing it's terrible fury upon himself.

"if I face this creature alone in close combat, I'm dead.."

Rising and gathering my senses as best I could, I noticed the blood coming from my now quite injured and battle-weary cat. He could'nt avoid those mighty branches much longer, and the blows he was taking would have probably killed me by now. Turning my focus on the healing of 'Paws, I attempting to keep him alive and fighting so I could drop back and unleash some magical arrows. Unfortunately he was taking far more damage than I could possibly heal, it was a matter of mere seconds now before the mighty Thunderpaws would fall.

Magically and physically spent, I flailed at the horrible tree beast with my blades. Too exhausted and injured to flee, too seemingly overpowered to win against this terrible foe, this was not the way I had always pictured my death. I would not allow it, not here, not now. Especially not by the branches of some walking piece of crazed foliage.

"Elune, please grant me the strength to slay this terrible beast"

Squinting thru the red stinging haze of my bloody eyes, everything within became focused as I struck the behemoth with every once of physical and spiritual strength within me. As a grizzled veteran of many wars once taught me to strike the enemy. As the feared Raptor strikes it's prey, and has for untold thousands of years past.

With a horrifying cry the Treant suddenly hit the ground, finding itself literally cut in half by the sheer magnitude of my blade-bending strike! The spark of life fading from it's eyes, the bisected creature fell silent as it's lower half took a step or two more, then fell over. Stroking the bloodied and battered face of my loyal cat and feeding him some of the clam meat I usually save for bribery purposes, we looked around cautiously as I quickly guzzled down a mana potion and tended to our wounds.
_________________
“Then away out in the woods I heard that kind of a sound that a ghost makes when it wants to tell about something that's on its mind and can't make itself understood, and so can't rest easy in its grave, and has to go about that way every night grieving.”-Mark Twain
Post Wed Jan 12, 2005 11:18 pm
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EverythingXen
Arch-villain
Arch-villain




Joined: 01 Feb 2002
Posts: 4342
   

"Greetings, barkeep, I would like some water if you would." I said calmly, entering a bar in Loch Modan. A pretty enough place... located in the hills.

The barkeep's eyes bulged as he took in my skeletal visage. The robes I wore clearly showed me to be a Warlock of significant ability... as if the flaming hooved Felsteed snorting flames wildly and leaving scorched land beneath its feet didn't.

"Come now... I've rode in from the Aranthi Highlands and saw your delightful little inn and thought it would be only polite to pay my respects." I said, lipless mouth not moving as I spoke. I had no vocal cords, no lips, no skin at all on my skull. Sadly this seems to cause a breakdown in communication with the humans I once was a part of.

"Korgave!!!" The barkeep shouted, echoed by a guard who came running in from an adjoining room.

"No, I think I'll keep my cloak, thank you." I said, smiling inwardly as demonic forces roiled within. "Just a drink, please."

The guard drew his axe and my eyes flared. As my will focused the guard staggered, greatly weakened, then began to scream as dark energies corrupted him from within. A gesture later and he burst into unholy fire, swinging futilely at me as he collapsed into a smoldering heap.

"Water to take the dust from my mouth would be best, I think. I have no stomach for the stronger drink ... literally." I continued. "I am simply passing through on my way to the Badlands and it's a long ride."

"Korgave! Korgave! Korgave uth madar!" The bartender began to scream.

I had no eyes to roll so I expressed my thoughts on his hysterics by draining the soul from his body.

Well, this certainly didn't please the natives who heroically threw themselves against me.

"Gnats." I said with a shrug, channeling a spell of pure hellfire through my own body. There were shrieks as the entire room evaporated. I bent over to take a flask of water when an arrow pierced by back. I looked down at it as another and another joined it.

"Oh my." I said, turning slowly to see my demoness tearing a bear to pieces. A nervous looking hunter in ratty leather was firing wildly at me. "Put that bow away before you hurt yourself, elf."

The elf did not and so I vaporized her. The was no pleasure in slaying such a weak foe... but there's less pleasure in letting them believe they had a chance.

Suddenly I became aware of a rogue sneaking up on me. I focused my will and they appeared, writhing in fire. Getting the bright idea that if they leapt around wildly I couldn't hit them with magic the rogue, weak to my experienced eye, began sommersaulting.

Against a mage, perhaps, this may have worked. I admit it was distracting... but against a warlock of my power several spells do not require line of sight. These I cast with a thought and then drew the Sword of Hammerfall. Spinning as they leap overhead I brought the sword up in a vicious arc. Combined with the demonic forces that were tearing their body to pieces this brutal hit was more than enough to end the fight.

I picked up the flask of water when I heard the thunder of hooves approach. Five minutes... the humans must be getting lazy at defending their folk.

I think my appearance, sitting casually in a room filled with burned corpses, must have confused the alliance... because the priest and paladin that dismounted charged in and paused.

I stood up and gave a mocking bow... and that's when the paladin began his charge. Of course he didn't make it ... as my bow turned into the incantation of terror. He fled screaming into the night as the priest unleashed holy wrath at me.

No longer amused I knew I was outnumbered and overpowered. I gave a little wave and threw myself over the balcony, plunging 30 feet to the ground at a run. Behind me the paladin and the priest did similar... but I was now ready and with a thought I slowed them both and headed off at a run. My demon I left pounding on the priest as a diversion... the Innkeeper's soul would fuel a replacement later.

The paladin was soon galloping after me but again a simple word had him running other other direction for several seconds. Tired of the game I took the precious seconds to summon forth my infernal steed and blazed my way south towards the Badlands.

Perhaps wherever the innkeep is now he will have learned it's better to give death a drink than to drink of death.
_________________
Estuans interius, Ira vehementi

"The old world dies and with it the old ways. We will rebuild it as it should be, MUST be... Immortal!"

=Member of the Nonflamers Guild=
=Worshipper of the Written Word=
Post Thu Jan 13, 2005 4:28 pm
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xSamhainx
Paws of Doom
Paws of Doom




Joined: 11 Sep 2002
Posts: 2192
Location: San Diego
   

good one Xen
My realm's down for maintenance, so I recounted my first humbling brush with the WoW lower-end economy

====================================================
Thus far, the way of the alchemist for me had been a fun new type of hobby of sorts. A mix of Elven curiosity of the ways of blending the study and practice of science and magic, and the basic need to just learn something new. But after you have found on more than one occasion that your new hobby has saved your hide, or made your life a bit better in some meaningful way, a mere hobby turns to an area of serious study or even profession. I'd seen the profit myself, perusing the wares of the street vendors, tiny little bottles of colorful fluids with promises just as large as the price. But still, the profit of the whole thing had never occurred to me at all during my initial studies. Yes, everyone wants or needs an alchemist at one time or another in their lives, but I had no interest in anything but pure knowledge, and helping myself and my friends with what I learned.

After devoting much time to the basics of alchemy, and learning all I could from the locals, I set out to learn more from the famed alchemist Sylvana Forestmoon. She was quite nice, and for a few silver she not only taught me many new things about alchemy, she corrected me on certain things of which I was mistaken. She instructed me in making an Elixir of Underwater Breathing, and also potion of Swift Swim. Both items that I would have paid quite a few silver for 2 weeks prior, searching for some supposed lost treasure in the wreckage of 2 sunken vessels off the coast of Darkshore.

What a horrible time that little underwater adventure turned out to be. I had finally given up the underwater search after an exhausting and dangerous day of scouring the shipwrecks dodging far more Murlocs than I ever wanted to see in my life, parsed with wonderful moments of near asphyxia beneath the waves. It truly was the first time I've seen desertion in the eyes of my otherwise fiercely loyal companion, the mighty and venerable ThunderPaws. He dislikes small bodies of fresh water as it is, but he particularly loathes the sea. And he hates Murlocs. Convinced that the treasure was naught but urban legend, and faced with the possibility my right-hand cat was going to forsake me, I gave up the search.

My chagrin however did not dissuade the the other treasure hunters, and as I sat and fished off the beach, I watched them all out there on their quest for the sunken treasure. Heads just above the surface at times before diving back under, just to see them hit the surface a minute later, gasping for precious air. Sometimes the eager and boastful adventurers that dove in to take their stab at the lost treasure came out weary and distraught, but oftentimes they were either chased out by a band of blabbering Murlocs, carried out by a friend, or they never came out at all...

Then I got to thinking.

I might have paid a gold piece for a potion of water breathing a couple of weeks ago, but I'm fairly certain that I would have if there also was a Swift Swim thrown in as well. As my bobber dipped beneath the waves and I felt the familiar tug of a snared fish, I thought about the chance of a successful potion venture here at this very site. I would also be helping these poor thrillseekers perhaps live a bit longer as well, for a price of course!

The giant crank of my old rickety fishing pole spinning in tandem with the wheels in my head as I reeled in my catch, I envisioned the personally crafted Wizbang Cranktoggle MK-IV fishing pole that the heavy drinking dwarf had offered to sell me the last time we were having a pint. Now that was a fishing pole, albeit a very expensive one. True enough he may spend his days and nights in a near drunken stupor, but the guy was one heck of a fisherman and engineer. His poles were expensive because they were the best, worth every penny to the serious angler.

Pulling up my line, it was a strange surprise to see an Oily Blackmouth on my line. Tho I personally consider it disgusting to eat, it's oil glands secrete the very base substance I need as the main component of the aforementioned elixirs, as well as any other water related formulas.

This is indeed a sign from Goddess Elune!

Licking his lips as I unhook the slimy bottom-feeder, methinks Thunderpaws definitely will not like the Blackmouth stashing plan as much as I. For a cat that vehemently dislikes the very sea itself, 'Paws sure does like going fishing with me. Especially when an Oily Blackmouth gets tossed to him. Over the next few days, we traveled up and down the coast, hitting all the spots I've caught a Blackmouth, and indeed had quite a few in no time at all. None for the Paws tho, he had to settle for smallfish.

That night I use my crude second-hand tools to crush and prepare the other reagents, thinking of the chipped old mortar and pestle in some decorative display case 10 years later as a reminder of my humble beginnings. There's underwater treasure sites all over, who wouldn’t pay a gold for an upper hand? Maybe I'll even buy Sylvana Forestmoon a fine new robe from some faraway land, just to show my gratitude for all she's taught me. That is, of course after I buy my new MK-IV rod & reel from Wizbang, oh yeah, and I'm outgrowing this bow…..

The next day at sunrise, held up by a bunch of blue bottles, my sign on the beach read

Keep finding yourself needing to breathe?
Murlocs got you down??
You need my patented Elixir of The Tide Crawler
A half hour of underwater breathing GUARANTEED
One low easy payment of 99 silver!!
But wait, THERE'S MORE!
I'll throw in a Swift Swim potion absolutely FREE!

I almost cast my line out, but figured that it might not be wise in case I get rushed by potential customers, so I just sat there and waited. Thoughts of me riding atop the finest tiger mount that gold can buy played out in my mind, leaping across rivers and over all walls and fences in my path. There is that one type that is more agile than... wait, a customer already?

"KILLERMAN CHALLENGES YOU TO A DUEL! ACCEPT?"

Throwing some flag down into the sand with a thump, a fledgeling warrior apparently right off the griffin, stood before me with this hand out in some macho handshake type thing.
"No thanks, I'm not interested. Go away"

"WHY NOT?"

"Really, I'm trying to sell potions here. You look like you could use my patented Elixir of Wisdom. And no, unfortunately the effects dont stack."

"WHATEVER"

'Paws just yawning often gets rid of bothersome people for me, and this time was no exception. It was a massive fang-bearing yawn followed by a rise to the feet and a look only a pissed off Moonstalker can give. The unsung hero Killerman suddenly figured it was best time to seek out a new playmate.
Minutes turned to hours, and for all the heads I saw bobbing out there above the water, I would have thought one of them would want my elixirs. People heading in either weren’t interested, or didn’t have any gold, er silver. By mid-day I had even bribed Thunderpaws into wearing a sign and walking up and down the beach, to no avail.

What a misfire. Noone's buying my potions…

By nightfall, my dreams of tubs full of human women bathing me and feeding me grapes in one of Stormwind's grand inns was looking more like a night in a Crossroads flophouse with some drunken troll wench. 'Paws was on his back in the sand, passed out from running back and forth to Auberdine and back all day long, gorged with fish. And here I sat, among the humble beginnings of my vast elixir empire, having not sold one potion all day long!

"…its not that I invested a bunch of money or anything, it's just the scale of the defeat, of the miscalculation, I feel so … grr

Beating myself up as I love to do, I snickered as I eyed the of Elixir of Wisdom. Coming from the direction of the water, a few silhouettes emerged from the ebbing blackness which is the sea at night, and my hopes arose anew to sell at least one. One dang potion, that's all I ask!

"DUDE, CAN YOU REZ?"
_________________
“Then away out in the woods I heard that kind of a sound that a ghost makes when it wants to tell about something that's on its mind and can't make itself understood, and so can't rest easy in its grave, and has to go about that way every night grieving.”-Mark Twain
Post Fri Jan 14, 2005 6:45 am
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EverythingXen
Arch-villain
Arch-villain




Joined: 01 Feb 2002
Posts: 4342
   

99 silver? The warlock spell is cheaper to buy and costs the Warlock a staggering 50 mana (out of my meager 3400 currently) to cast. Any dungeon where you might want such a potion you can certainly find a Warlock willing to cast the spell for you...

Troll's blood potions are where it's at! hour long regeneration bonuses if I recall correctly... not a character in the game ever will say "I regenerate health too fast".
_________________
Estuans interius, Ira vehementi

"The old world dies and with it the old ways. We will rebuild it as it should be, MUST be... Immortal!"

=Member of the Nonflamers Guild=
=Worshipper of the Written Word=
Post Fri Jan 14, 2005 3:40 pm
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xSamhainx
Paws of Doom
Paws of Doom




Joined: 11 Sep 2002
Posts: 2192
Location: San Diego
   

yeah, the price was a bit high ='.'=

At least I know I have the option of breathing underwater for literally hours if I should ever need to

I'm with ya on the Troll's Blood Potion, I've got a few more levels before I can make "Strong Troll's Blood Potion", should be able to mix some up this weekend.

-Edited for topic's sake
_________________
“Then away out in the woods I heard that kind of a sound that a ghost makes when it wants to tell about something that's on its mind and can't make itself understood, and so can't rest easy in its grave, and has to go about that way every night grieving.”-Mark Twain
Post Fri Jan 14, 2005 5:34 pm
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Val
Risen From Ashes
Risen From Ashes




Joined: 18 Feb 2002
Posts: 14724
Location: Utah, USA
   

Heh, great stories, you two. Now if only Badger would start playing WoW...
_________________
Freeeeeeedom! Thank heavens it's summer!
What do I have to show for my hard work? A piece of paper! Wee!
=Guardian, Moderator, UltimaDot Newshound=
Post Sat Jan 15, 2005 9:31 pm
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xSamhainx
Paws of Doom
Paws of Doom




Joined: 11 Sep 2002
Posts: 2192
Location: San Diego
   

This one is a bit longer, Ive been working on it every once and awhile for a week or so-

===================================================

Any hunter will tell you that their animal companion is more than just a friend, and tho often referred to as simply a "pet", is anything but an ordinary pet. A Hunter relies heavily on his animal friend not only to distract and dodge the prey with it's amazing reaction time and cunning, but it also plays a big part in bringing down the prey itself with it's sharp talons, claws, or teeth. While the beast must be kept in subjugation, it is no automaton, and much can be learned by observing it's instinctual behaviors and tactics. Although I have undoubtedly learned very much from the honorable warriors who have instructed me in the savage ways in which beasts fight, such as the strike of the raptor or mongoose, the most deadly techniques can only be taught by the beast itself. No matter how enormous or tiny, from the rodent to the dragon, all manner of creature can be a terrible foe to their peers, and learned advisors to us. In their simplicity, they are actually quite complex.

One example of such ferocious perfection came to me days ago as I was exploring the swampy coastline northeast of the seaside city of Menethil. I left the harbor city well prepared for my adventuring that day, with talon-sharp arrows crafted skillfully by the local fletcher and bowyer, Edwina and her friend Naela. I was quite impressed with how swiftly Naela masterfully restrung my bow with a fine raptor gut bowstring, and rewound the grip with the skill of a true artisan. I insisted that she take an extra gold piece for her exceptional workmanship, and headed out the small city gates of the city that day with the mighty and noble Thunderpaws in tow. I had planned on catching our dinner that night off the coast, having been wanting to try a firefin snapper, which could be caught supposedly along these shores. Much like the blackmouth, the oils of the firefin could also be quite useful to an alchemist, so I was eager to get my paws on a few if possible. That night in our travels however, food and alchemy were soon to be the last thing on our minds.

The adventure started out like any other, an earthen road heading off into the distant trees, a head full of grand speculation of what I would find out there. We set out down the road east, seeing young wannabe warriors honing their fighting skills and trying to earn a few copper fighting the overabundant crocolisks in the soggy marshes on either side of the road. The unusually warm fall season last year had seemed to bode well for the survival of hatchlings, thus these marshes were teeming with crocolisks. Slithering thru the marshes near the road, eyes just above the surface of the murky waters, they could be more than simply an eyesore to the unwary traveler. This had prompted the brass of Menethil to offer a bounty on the menacing creatures, and the battle yells (and yelps) of enterprising warriors rang thru the bogs as they sharpened their skills while scoring a little extra drinking money for the night.

I had long since moved on to far greater prey myself, but I sure remembered what a dreadful and ugly foe the violently quirky and powerful reptiles had been to me the first few that we had fought in our days as a fledgeling hunter and his four-pawed sidekick. Mere copper wasn’t worth my time now, and neither was my wrath on what was now a weak and unworthy foe. I initially let Thunderpaws dispatch of any of the troublesome creatures that dared cross our path, but to my surprise, I couldn’t help but notice that it soon seemed that as Menethil became smaller behind us, the crocolisks became quite larger before us. Soon I was joining the fray as well with my blades, doing a little skill honing of my own on the rough hides of the snapping devils. A bit hungry from fighting, and eager to see the sunset over the sea, we turned west and headed thru the marshlands toward the sea.

Having been in the area before, and speaking with the locals about what I would encounter in this neck of the woods beforehand, I expected the camps of yipping and barking mosshide furlbogs, the roaming fen dwellers, and the assorted crocolisks we encountered along the way thru the marsh. Although trying to avoid them completely, we certainly dealt with them swiftly and unmercifully when we had to, and soon my pack was almost half-full of assorted jangling trinkets and jewelry from the fallen bodies of the seemingly half-mad, marauding furbolgs. It was obvious that they too were used to victimizing the less wary travelers in these parts, but we were to be no such easy prey that day for the loathsome jackals.

Reaching the water as the sun was completing it's descent into the sea, I built a small fire on the rocky dirt shore and cast my line out into the undulating depths. I noticed an odd peace about the shore that evening as I cast my line out again, considering all the bloodshed in the mile or so between the road and where we were now. I saw no signs of life in the immediate vicinity other than the occasional bird I happened to see go by, I wasn’t even catching any fish, let alone the firefin I wanted. Ears perking up, my ever-vigilant battle cat rose to his feet and gazed off into the blackness of the swampy night, obviously hearing something other than the incessant buzzing and chirping of the wetland's lesser denizens. Rising to my feet, I looked out over the now moonlit mess of soggy weeds and muck, and was greeted by the glare of two eyes glinting off the firelight. And although quite low to the ground, they were very far apart, and quite big! Emitting a weird croaking grunt, the creature emerged slowly from the veil of night, revealing itself to be the biggest crocolisk I had ever seen!

"Steady, 'Paws..." I intoned cautiously, as I reached downward for my bow, the reptilian giant slowly approaching, almost as if it was merely greeting us as guests in it's home. With a speed unbelievable for such a massive beast, the crocolisk lunged straight at us, the mighty Thunderpaws pouncing to his rightful place at the front of the melee, between myself and the snapping beast, engaging the reptilian horror in a head-to-head roaring and hissing contest that soon escalated to savage blows. Ears back, the roaring cat struck the nose of the massive reptile over and over again with his huge paws as it lunged at him, repeatedly making it recoil, just to see it bolt forward again in a particularly vicious snapping strike. In one fluid motion I notched an arrow and let it fly at the crocolisk's head, then another into it's side as the paws and jaws clashed between the two. Watching the awesome reptile in battle was quite impressive, the way it would recoil, then snap back using the recoil as a sort of launching maneuver. It was the way it had to fight really, it's huge bulk both an advantage and disadvantage that the smaller crocs didn’t have to deal with, thus none of them seemed to fight as this one did. The way it jolted out of it's recoil with an almost sideways snapping strike was amazing to watch for the time it lasted, yet moments later was all but a violent memory as we stood over the bloodied corpse of the enormous crocolisk.

Half-thinking about my growling stomach, half-thinking about the weary and hungry cat by my side, I decided to use my hearthstone to teleport us back to the Deepwater Tavern in Menethil. Since I was apparently not going to catch any fish that night to eat, I decided to take more than a tooth from the fallen croc. It was a truly massive beast that lay before us, and I was able to get a good deal of meat just from a quick bit of field butchery, before we teleported back to Menethil for the night.

As Thunderpaws chomped and munched on his half of the big crocolisk steak that I had the cook prepare for us, I sat and thought about the powerful creature who was now our dinner. I had noticed the creature didn’t look that old, just looking at the huge tooth which I took with me, it was not some ancient beast, it was just very big. Though I am surely no expert on the crocolisk species, I do know a great deal of beast lore, and the condition of the creature's teeth and other such factors, to my trained eye, put the age of the beast well under ten years old. Could it be just an anomaly, or were there other giant crocolisks like that, out there lurking in the wetlands? Did they all as a breed use that devastatingly quick, recoiling strike? If I could just harness and observe one for a few hours or so, watch it fight it's prey, I could teach 'Paws to better handle, and in fact strike as such a creature. Maybe I could learn a thing or two to incorporate into my own fighting style. I've learned much from the animals chosen in the past, even Raptors, why should a big swamp lizard be any different?

My mind was made up. I was determined to seek out and tame one of the great beasts, if another such giant crocolisk did exist, and learn all I could from it. Even if it all turned out to be just another little trivial bit of beast lore, I just had to at least observe one of them uninterrupted. I would have to definitely stable my battle-cat, there is no way I could pull it off with him bounding around distracting me or stirring up trouble while I'm trying to tame another creature. It was quite a chore to get the big cat to get up and out of the inn willingly, for he knows when I grab my heavier solo gear, that means he's going to the stablemaster for the night. "Come on, youre acting like a little kitten!" I chided the big cat, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck with both hands and heaving him out the door of the inn. For some reason he doesn’t like being stabled, you'd think he would like the rest and relaxation, but quite the contrary. "Make sure to check on him every once and awhile, and give him one of these now and then" I said to the stablemaster, handing him a small bag of cured meat jerky. "I should be no longer than this time tomorrow night", and with that, 'Paws seemed resigned to the fact it was indeed unavoidable, and the brooding cat sulked into the stable obediently, the door sliding down and latching behind him.

As much as I love adventuring with my animal companion, it is quite exhilarating to hunt totally solo. Complete independence, yet potential for great danger if fate should choose it for me. It really doesnt matter how skilled you are in the end, fate is the ultimate arbiter of all our lives. There's a lot less combat if any when I'm hunting alone, for most of the time I'm trying to completely avoid everything, with noone or nothing else to screw up my invisibility. I thought about the painful taming method I must use as I moved silently thru the brush that night, stopping every so often to shadowmeld and look around, taking stock of potential threats and noting my location. Soon I was back at the final resting place of the giant croc, all the carrion eaters had converged on the slain beast, already reducing it to a skeleton in some spots. Invisible to the unsuspecting eye, I deftly moved past the feasting creatures, onward thru the coastal marsh, looking to and fro for any sign of a very big lizard. And after awhile to my surprise, I had found quite a few of them.

It seemed that everything in this part of the marsh was bigger, even the liferoot I was stopping to quickly gather was a lot larger in size than what Ive normally seen. I had come upon a few of the huge crocolisks sloshing around in the muck, and when one seemed to go off on it's own, I headed in that direction. "This is the tough part" I thought to myself, going into shadowmeld again, preparing myself for the harsh taming method I must endure. The animal itself had the easy part, I however had to act as an elven chewtoy for roughly a minute. I had wrapped my arms and legs, and was wearing as much armor as I possibly could layer on and still move quietly. Guzzling a few different defensive and regenerative elixirs, I quietly whispered a prayer to Elune and stepped out of the shadows, in full view of the terrible lizard. "Hey there, beautiful!" I said, waving to the beast with a big smile, arms out as if offering an embrace, holding only a taming rod in my hand. I had clearly surprised it, for I saw an awkward look in the creature's eye, like it was wondering who the foolish elf wanting to give it a big hug was. Most elves that it had seen had probably either been attacking it, or fleeing from it, and here I was practically inviting it to come eat me!

It wasted no time in rushing me, maw agape, a huge grinning nightmare. I backed up as quickly as I could, drawing it away to a relatively safe area, then I started to focus on the creature's mind. Holding the taming rod above the beast, channeling my goodwill to it in the form of raw energy, I felt the beast's teeth sink into my leg then release, then sink again somewhere else. I spoke in my mind to the chaotic, angry red spirit of the beast, asking for the honor of it's friendship and wisdom. Staying completely still and focused, a Hunter must communicate with the very spirit of the animal in a trance-like state, ignoring everything else.

pain is nothing.. there is no fear… only respect.. only goodwill..

There is no such thing as flesh and blood when you are trying to tame the spirit of a beast, even as the blood streams down from gaping wounds.

"I wish you no harm. I seek only friendship, only your wisdom. I seek the supreme knowledge of you and your ancestors, I beseech you…"

I pleaded with the animal spirit, the red glowing orb before me turning to a lighter hue of orange, the chaotic spinning and bouncing ball of energy settling into a more calm and slow movement as I repeatedly implored it's mercy and friendship. As much as I can divorce myself from the physical, I am no shaman, and the pain was soon becoming unbearable as the crocolisk struck my legs and torso again and again. I was able to ignore it selectively, I have always had a very high tolerance for pain, but my life's blood spilling from my open wounds however demanded attention by virtue of my very consciousness itself. As my consciousness waned and I felt my own spirit start to feel distant and blurry, the animal's spirit suddenly began to enunciate words and tones I could not comprehend. I took it as a positive, and started to pull myself out of the trance and into a world of total agony.


Often one can communicate with another who speaks a foreign dialect simply thru body language and inflection, and this creature was no different. What "body language" you ask?? Mainly, he stopped attacking me for one, and once I had broken out of my trance and fell like a bag of flour to the swampy floor, it started emitting some sort of clicking noise that I took as positive and layed down next to me. Groaning aloud and wracked with the most unbelievable pain, I fumbled in my bag for a healing potion. Popping the cork and swigging the red glowing fluid down, the fog of agony slowly lifted, my formerly gaping wounds looking less and less severe as the minutes passed.

Petting the creature on it's head and giving it a piece of cured meat, I rose to my feet and shook my head, casting off the murky fog in my mind from all the substances I had drank in the last five minutes or so. "Well, no time to waste, Smiley" I said, beckoning the creature to me as I headed toward the coastal waters of the rocky beach, chewing on a piece of liferoot for it's stimulant properties. Following me to the water's edge, the creature seemed eager to jump in, and soon we were working as a pretty effective team. I walked casually up the coast, and he sprang out of the water and attacked whatever had the unlucky fortune of crossing my path, thinking it was just some lost Night Elf. Yes, it did use that impressive recoiling strike even in the water, it was a devastating attack indeed, and I observed the creature's every move very carefully. I didn’t want this experience to go to waste! We roamed the coastal marshes all night killing anything that approached us as anything but friendly, the full moon above and my racial gift of elven nighttime vision giving us all but daylight when the clouds did not veil the moonlight. After a few hours, I had learned to shift my weight and bring my swords together in a dual recoiling strike much like the beast, just slicing clean thru the slimy hide armor of the reprehensible swamp dwelling furbolgs and other such half-mad beasts that inhabit the wetlands. The creature had indeed taught me much about fighting in water, muck, and on land. I couldn’t wait to teach Thunderpaws all that I had learned, we would be truly unstoppable after this!

Giving the croc a final pat on the head, I used my hearthstone to teleport back to the Deepwater Tavern back in Menethil, completely and utterly exhausted. After a mug of ale or ten, and a wild story to the locals of my encounter, I made my way up to my room and passed out on the bed, and dreamed of the wonderfully unstoppable adventures that awaited me and the mighty and venerable Thunderpaws tomorrow.
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“Then away out in the woods I heard that kind of a sound that a ghost makes when it wants to tell about something that's on its mind and can't make itself understood, and so can't rest easy in its grave, and has to go about that way every night grieving.”-Mark Twain
Post Tue Feb 01, 2005 5:32 am
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weirdo2590
Protector of the Realm
Protector of the Realm




Joined: 09 Jun 2005
Posts: 251
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pie
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# It's a badger, badger, badger, badger, badger, badger badger, badger, badger, badger, badger,badger.
Mushrom, Mushroom.....#
Post Fri Jun 10, 2005 9:06 pm
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Val
Risen From Ashes
Risen From Ashes




Joined: 18 Feb 2002
Posts: 14724
Location: Utah, USA
   

Was there a point to that? I love pie as much as the next person, but I don't see what pie has to do with WOW.
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What do I have to show for my hard work? A piece of paper! Wee!
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Post Fri Jun 10, 2005 10:17 pm
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