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An introduction to Hotaur Winterain
((This was my response to a post in our members forums about introducing our characters to the rest of the guild. It was supposed to be a forum response, i.e.:


... etc. I chose to RP the entire introduction and disregard the form. I post this here only because your guild and a few of its members are mentioned.

That, and I have RPed with a few of you, and it might help you to better understand the big, dumb lug.

Much love, Ironsong.))

Dressed in his festive purple dress, Hotaur Winterain stands outside the first bank of Orgrimmar, already deep in conversation.

"Well, I guess I have been a Tauren and a Shaman for as long as I can remember," he says, scratching his head, obviously giving the matter careful consideration. "How long has it been?"

The scratching hand slowly moves down, until Hotaur is scratching his hind quarters, and still the answer eludes him. "Honestly, I have no clue! But, did I mention that it has been for as long as I can remember? I did? Swell! What else do you want to know?"

Listening carefully, Hotaur starts nodding rapidly. "Mostly I like a lot of things, really! I like food, and air, and water... they are all -very- important. I like people, too! Flowers are pretty. I like butterflies. I like the sunrise and the sunset. I like everything, really, except..."

A look at once fear and disgust creases Hotaur's normally childish features.

"The catses! The filthy, dirty, hateful kittens!"

He starts stomping his feet, throwing his hands up, and shaking his head back and forth, making noises of protest. Nearby people start to back away slowly, while those that are already a safe distance away begin to stare.

"I can't tell you," Hotaur said, his voice rising in pitch as he wags a large finger, "how happy I am that most of the hunters I know use nice, clean, respectable animals such as boars, hyenas, owls, and scorpions. There is a nice lack of horrible, smelly kitties in my cirlce of friends."

Hotaur gasps. "NO I AM NOT AFRAID OF PANTHERS! SHUT UP! Why would you say that?!"

The Tauren looks around nervously. He puts his hands up, waving them back and forth slightly. "No, no, it's okay. You didn't know. I don't blame you. Yes, yes, of course we are still friends."

Looking around nervously, Hotaur begins scratching absent-mindedly at his arms and chest, muttering about panthers.

Finally, he comes around, focusing once again at the conversation at hand. "What was that?" he asks, all smiles and warmth again. "Positive things about myself? Oh, well, let's see... I am, should I be allowed to say so, quite attractive, even by a Tauren's standards. I am very smart, too. I am going to grow up to be a very important Tauren."

He nods sagely, and then his ears perk up.

"Oh, sure, I guess I have some negative qualities. We cannot all be sunshine and puppy tails, you know. "

Without realizing it, Hotaur has begun scratching his hind-quarters again.

"I guess some people have called me crazy and reckless. Somebody once said I have an immortality complex. Now, look, I have no idea what that is... but it sounds pretty serious, and I assure you that I am quite healthy. Personally, I see nothing wrong with running up to Golemagg by myself and frost shocking him... or a Firelord... or Taerer, which was some big dragon-y thing... Nor do I see any issue whatsoever with running up to a Lava Surger and trying to hug it. I also think that there really is not a single thing wrong with running up to a camp of elite humans and casting chain lightning. I submit that I usually survive my activities, and that the Earth Mother will not let me die."

A Forsaken shoves by Hotaur, making the Tauren lose his train of thought. After a moment, he starts speaking again.

"Oh sure, we all have our demons. Myself? I am addicted to sparkling crystal water. You have to promise not to tell the mages, but I usually collect water from more than one of them before we go anywhere. I can't help myself. It tastes so good. They know it, too. That's why they only hand you forty at a time."

Hotaur nods. "I know! They are quite crafty, those mages. Very helpful, though. They help me all over the place, especially in Molten Core. They will help me finally defeat Ragnaros... and they were very important for my greatest accomplishment: defeating Major Domo with Rotten Luck."

The Tauren giggles. "That's right, you -were- there for that! Sorry, I forget so easily."

A long silence lingers between the two. Finally, Hotaur, a more serious look on his face, breaks the silence.

"I have trouble hating people. I think there were people I used to hate, but I don't hate anybody right now. I don't have enemies, really. I dislike some things that some people do, but mostly I just try to enjoy things. What? Love? Oh, I love lots of people."

Hotaur's vision wanders, and a soft smile drifts across his face. "I love all of my guild mates. Xica, Xelnavaak, Carmilla, Yyssilth, Maladie - she is my mother, you know - Majra... so many more, I would forget somebody and their feelings would be hurt. I love a lot of people outside of our guild, too... Ironsong Tribe, Shillatae, Eveline, Kagan, Kosath. Darkspear Voodoo, Tengul and Jinxy. Zyzzyx and Reynaja. I love them all so very much."

Giggling, Hotaur continues. "I love all of the Horde, really! Orcs are very nice! They have made wolves that I can ride, and they are going to let me have one! I love Tauren, of course. Trolls make me smile. I like the Forsaken a lot, too... now, everybody says they are dead, but that makes no sense to me. They talk, and walk around... clearly they are alive. Other people say they are 'undead.' Well, undead means that they are 'not dead,' so I think that proves my point. Some of them kinda smell a little, I guess, but I do not see what everybody has against them."

Hotaur suddenly looks over his shoulder. Konah, a young druid, is waving at him.

"Hotaur!" Konah calls. "You promised to come protect me in the plaguelands! Come on! The day isn't going to last forever, and I want to be home before dark!"

Smiling, Hotaur waves at the young druid. He looks back.

"Look, I have to go, but it sure has been nice talking to you. I will make sure to visit more often."

Hotaur falls to his knees, and wraps his arms tightly around the mailbox.

After a long embrace, he struggles to his feet, collecting up his Dredger and his Helmet of Ten Storms.

Konah has already started away towards the Zeppelin, and Hotaur must hurry to catch up.

As he chases after her, lifting the hem of his dress, Hotaur calls over his shoulder. "Take care, my new friend! I will come back and talk with you, I promise! You really are a good listener!"

((If it wasn't made clear, Hotaur doesn't understand the concept of undeath and, therefore, has absolutely no clue about Forsaken history, motivations, or lifestyles.))
Bloody Hotaur, shouldn't you be out smashing those "Peons" we discussed instead of granting self promoting interviews?

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