The war against the legion is finally drawing to a close, or so everyone seems to think. It tends to be quite difficult to remember exactly what you’ve done when you’ve lived such a long life filled with magic and strange things as I have. Once forgotten as many try to keep the great creature I am named after, my story up to this point isn’t very interesting. I fought in a few battles. Drank the spirit that I should have been named after because I love it so, and generally had a great time galavanting about and enjoying myself.
When the call to arms arose to help against the burning legion’s most recent attack I pulled myself up and followed the movement to new Dalaran. I was pretty sure I had the strength for another war inside of me. I didn’t exactly count on more magic, as of course, I should have being a shaman and all. But one can always be surprised when you encounter something new and unexpected.
My first big surprise I encountered was when I encountered a strange man that believes that he is a Murloc. I’ve always found them to be a nuisance and obnoxious little creatures. Serves me right that I didn’t give them their fair share of good judgement. Whoever the mighty mage was inside the costume gave me quite a start when he put my mind inside Murky, the little murloc he was raising as his own child.
The world is so large and terrifying in their eyes, and I must admit that the little guy was quite adorable, I just wish they had waited for this grumpy old woman’s permission. No, wait! I’m not old. Really. Quite… middle-aged I’d say. As long as I don’t get killed in some freak war or another I plan to live for quite a long time still.
I guess I ought to show you what I actually look like shouldn’t I. Well there you go. Flying on the most gorgeous white eagle I have ever seen. I must say that I am rather fond of these Highmountain Tauren. They have quite a bit of fighting spark in them that I personally feel their Mulgore cousins are lacking. Not that there is anything wrong with the Tauren’s peace-loving ways of course. It is rather refreshing when you’ve seen so many wars. Sometimes I just really wish that they had more of the bull in them like these fierce cousins. Must have something to do with the different terrains they’ve had to survive in.
Oh, you want to see another picture of me? Of course dear.
Ah ha ha! Just a joke, just a joke. I’m sure you want to see more pictures of my beautiful face. I am quite the lovely old orc after all. I just couldn’t resist throwing you off with something unexpected. This is my preferred form as of late, to be honest. It’s almost more of me than before I gained the wisdom of the spirits in order to shapeshift.
As much as I love the fighting spirit and will always happily raise arms when I’m needed, I’ve been feeling the need for solitude. I find that I am left mostly well enough alone when I’m just sitting on the edge of a mountain in my wolf form, contemplating life. Some, like the kobalds, require a little extra encouragement as you can see in this photo. Silly things will believe anyone is the lead Kobald if you just stick a candle on your head that is bigger than theirs.
Then you can spend your time doing whatever you want and they won’t disturb you screaming their “No take candle” nonsense.
Of course, the war was still going on and the Broken Isles needed help.
I was happy to oblige, even if many of the legion minions I encountered did turn out to be rather boring. I think the most exciting one was the one who turned out to be the turned son of the Prophet. Guess that is what happens to those that forget they have friends and family.
I shall not do that even though I have been taking my own time in solitude lately. I don’t wish to ever be consumed by the greed and power hunger of the burning legion. I daresay though… look at the abs on that man. If it weren’t for the hooves and tangly beard tentacle things he wouldn’t be to half bad looking.
Shame he’s dead too. That does kind of detract from the overall attractiveness. . . Oh well! To my next story!
My new friends. I speak to these purple manasabers when I am exploring alone and I see them nearby. We speak in our own growling language that those that don’t know the tongue can not understand. The right one is Prinsella who lost her cubs when she was young. She got captured protecting others cubs from the legion so that they wouldn’t know the pain of the loss like she did. The left one is Roar. He doesn’t talk much and he always seems incredibly sad. But the both of them will hunt by my side without fail when they smell me nearby.
Yes, you’re right. What’s the point in these stories? I’m not quite sure I seem to have forgotten. Would you like to see what the next picture is? I’m rather curious myself because I don’t recall what pictures were taken on this roll of film.
Ah yes of course. I believe I was still in Highmountain when I discovered the branch of a bramble or some nonsense that turned me into one of these thorny annoyances. Really should test everything to make sure it doesn’t have some latent transmogrifying magic lying dormant inside. Ah but I guess it can’t be helped to stumble upon them every once in a while. It is horribly tedious to need to check every object you pick up. Don’t you agree?
AH yes! Ha ha ha ha ha! I felt so foolish when this one happened. I had run out of my favorite rum of course and what did my foolish old self think to do? Why I picked up an old flagon of mead and took a hearty chug. I was quite thirsty at the time, and when I looked up and my dear friend was laughing, I realized I had drunk a magical potion of some kind instead of the ancient dwarven mead I was expecting. I must say I understand why men are always grabbing at their crotches. It was most uncomfortable in all of that armor.
Constantly having to readjust yourself. Heh Heh! What a weird sensation it was to have different parts for a day. My, yes, it was a day. The magic took so long to wear off, I was quite surprised myself.
Enough with my transformations for the time being. I’ll just share one last thought with you before I go. I’m fancying a cup of something strong right now. Perhaps even a nice bowl of chili by a fire, curled up with a good book to read.
Remember in this war-torn world child. That there is still beauty if you open your eyes to look.
World of Warcraft Stories 