Shorty, and Pointy Ears
Submitted by Tess on May 9, 2009 - 8:45pm
((Post subject to extreme editing.))
How do I describe how we met? It's quite funny when I look back on it, I thought he was going to kill me for the first few minutes... I guess that's where we'll start, the short lived battle I and Yoradash had.
I was camping behind a snowdrift, my arms locked around my legs and my head resting between my knees as I stared at the flickering fire... to me the fire was white against a endless grey expanse and the cloth strip over my eyes did little in the way of adding color to my vision, yet it did not hinder it at all.
That's when I heard the first noise in a long time. It was a crunching noise, footsteps of a man or beast trudging through the fresh snow of a recent storm. The crunching stopped suddenly and my mind barely had the chance to comprehend that whatever had made the noise had spotted me before I received a sharp blow to the side. I instinctively rolled to the side jumping to my feet on the other side of the fire and came face to face with a dwarf! A dwarf!?
I hesitated naturally, I've always had some embedded fear of dwarfs for reasons I've never fully understood. Then I froze realizing the dwarf stood between me and the few weapons I carried during my self-imposed hermitage. I wasn't even wearing plate gauntlets... I couldn't punch a dwarf in mittens! I relaxed by a infinitesimal bit however, the dwarf wasn't holding a weapon and as far as she could see it was just a fisher. That still didn't stop me from being tense, I knew how tough their race was, and if this dwarf was half as muscled as it look it could probably break my arm before I could grab my weapon. Self-preservation drove me to try a simple and desperate measure, I recalled all the common I could and after perhaps a half-minute of staring at the dwarf I managed to piece together a sentence in common.
"I don't want to fight you dwarf... I have nothing you want." I could practically feel my pride draining away as I begged the dwarf not to attack. I waited for the dwarf to speak, why had it attacked? Was it because I was a blood elf? Maybe it mistook me for something hostile? Or it could be the off chance that it knew I was young and slightly hindered by my sight... that he just wanted a easy kill so he'd have bragging rights in some tavern.
((For the sake of making
((For the sake of making this a bit more easy on everyone, myself included, Yora's dialog will be written with his accent, but his internal monologue will not))
I'd begun to slightly hate these scrolls of recall I've been writing up. The initial idea was a little fun; write up a scroll with a flaw in the location it recalls me to, use it and walk back from where it sends me. I got to see a lot of interesting places, maybe see some things I overlooked when I was there the first time. I'm not called Yora the explorer for nothing, after all. This time, though? This time wasn't so great.
Whereever the scroll dumped me, it was cold, dark and damn unpleasant. The snow was fresh, the kind you get from a heavy storm, but I didn't trust the clouds above me to not start up again. At this point I was more concerned with finding some shelter or warmth than getting back to Stormwind. From what I could see in the distance, somebody had started a fire, so I made my way west to the source, hoping for a friendly, or at least less than hostile face.
Of course, the last thing I expected to find was a blood elf lass huddled over a fire. Or at least, she was huddled until she heard me. She spooked easily, that's for sure. As soon as I got within a few feet of her I stumbled, tried to catch my balance and nearly swiped at her with my fishing pole in an attempt to balance myself with it. I managed to catch my footing to keep from rolling over into a heap. She wasn't in heavy armor and at the time I didn't see her weapons nearby. "Mage?" I though, "Mebbe a warlock?" No, something seemed off about the whole thing.
It was about then that I noticed her position, she wasn't ready to strike, she was afraid of me. Me, of all people! A nearly two-hundred year old dwarf with a fishing pole. Admittedly one used for whaling, but still. It surprised me even more when she spoke, though.
"I don't want to fight you dwarf... I have nothing you want."
This caught me more off-guard than anything else. "Lass, if'n I was goin' tae try an' kill ye I'd have brough more'n a fishin' pole an' dinner." There was a bit of caution in my voice. For all I knew she could just as easy shoot a fireball or throw an imp at my head or whatever it is warlocks do. They throw imps at people, right? Then the imp claws at them? I'll have to look into that later...
"I'm sittin' down. Dinnae try anythin'. I'm cold, old an' cranky. Not only that but I kin swin' this pole pretty 'ard." I pointed the pole at the elf girl and slowly plopped myself down at the other side of the fire. This wasn't a time to bother fighting, my feet were soaked and I was cold. Plus all my ink had frozen half a mile back so I wasn't going anywhere for a while.
((Yora, I actually think you
((Yora, I actually think you were suppose to click the link that said "child page" that would make your writing appear as it's own post but still connected to mine.))
((By the by lovely post either way, should I make my post or would you like to copy/paste this into a child page first?))
"To sing of finger bones and purple flowers."
((I am almost certain I did
((I am almost certain I did that, but at the same time, I'm almost certain I wrote that at 5am so it's possible you're right. I'll take care of that right now.))