03-01-2015, 08:27 PM
His left eye slowly ground its way open a tiny crack. “Mother Shahraz, why is it so bright in here? Wait… why am I in a tree? And where are my pants?” He shifted to cat form to jump down through the branches and found his trousers in a heap on the ground. Some time later he was able to open his right eye. He watched the progress of a tiny beetle making its way down the tree trunk he was slumped against. Time passed. Finally he was able to keep both eyes open at the same time and it only hurt a little. Just what had he gotten into last night? It was all a blur. Much like the world right now.
That Monk. Hm. Hadn’t he run into a spunky little Pandaren chatting up Nat Pagle at the Angler’s Wharf? And hadn’t Nat invited them both out on his boat for a little night fishing? How did he keep a chilled keg of beer in that hat, anyway? He dimly remembered someone opening a wormhole and tossing his pants through. He dove in just as it closed, and then everything just sort of greyed out. At least that explained what he was doing in Dread Wastes. In a tree.
Frak. That was her name. She had moxie. He liked moxie. A dim recollection surfaced of them performing a duet of “What’s New, Pussycat?” just before he lost his pants.
A small furry ball zoomed out of nowhere and landed nearby. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. My mage port tolls are going to be outrageous this month. Ah, and you are with your pants. This is excellent!”
He observed with no small degree of chagrin that she was suffering no ill effects from last night’s over-fishing session.
She leaned past him and picked a flower. “Here, Sailor. A better cure than hair of the clefthoof for what ails you this afternoon.”
“After...noon?”
“That’s a sunset, not a sunrise, Kitty. You’ve been gone for a while. I wanted to track you down and make sure you were all in one piece.”
“I… think I’m mostly here. Possibly minus a few brain cells I left behind on Nat’s boat. Thanks for checking up on me.”
“But of course. I felt a little responsible for your well-being, since it was I who bet I could drink the pants off you. But Nat tossed them through the wormhole; not me.
“This is not the only reason I tracked you down. I need to ask you something. Will you take me with you, when you go on from here? I love this country, this Pandaria, but my people are the daring ones; the seekers and adventurers. We rode the turtle into the undiscovered waters. That is who I am. I cannot stay here, with the stationary people.
“You were telling me last night about a group of friends and travelers, from many races and many places, who made themselves into a family of sorts. Do you think they might find a corner for me?” She smirked and glanced upwards. “Or perhaps a tree branch?”
((Hey alls, I haven’t been able to convince Ng to leave PoW just yet, but you know I think you folks are awesome. I was wondering if Frak might join up. I’d love to have a character in Ironsong, even if it’s not crazy Uncle ‘Ganga. I have read the code of conduct and agree to follow it. ))
That Monk. Hm. Hadn’t he run into a spunky little Pandaren chatting up Nat Pagle at the Angler’s Wharf? And hadn’t Nat invited them both out on his boat for a little night fishing? How did he keep a chilled keg of beer in that hat, anyway? He dimly remembered someone opening a wormhole and tossing his pants through. He dove in just as it closed, and then everything just sort of greyed out. At least that explained what he was doing in Dread Wastes. In a tree.
Frak. That was her name. She had moxie. He liked moxie. A dim recollection surfaced of them performing a duet of “What’s New, Pussycat?” just before he lost his pants.
A small furry ball zoomed out of nowhere and landed nearby. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. My mage port tolls are going to be outrageous this month. Ah, and you are with your pants. This is excellent!”
He observed with no small degree of chagrin that she was suffering no ill effects from last night’s over-fishing session.
She leaned past him and picked a flower. “Here, Sailor. A better cure than hair of the clefthoof for what ails you this afternoon.”
“After...noon?”
“That’s a sunset, not a sunrise, Kitty. You’ve been gone for a while. I wanted to track you down and make sure you were all in one piece.”
“I… think I’m mostly here. Possibly minus a few brain cells I left behind on Nat’s boat. Thanks for checking up on me.”
“But of course. I felt a little responsible for your well-being, since it was I who bet I could drink the pants off you. But Nat tossed them through the wormhole; not me.
“This is not the only reason I tracked you down. I need to ask you something. Will you take me with you, when you go on from here? I love this country, this Pandaria, but my people are the daring ones; the seekers and adventurers. We rode the turtle into the undiscovered waters. That is who I am. I cannot stay here, with the stationary people.
“You were telling me last night about a group of friends and travelers, from many races and many places, who made themselves into a family of sorts. Do you think they might find a corner for me?” She smirked and glanced upwards. “Or perhaps a tree branch?”
((Hey alls, I haven’t been able to convince Ng to leave PoW just yet, but you know I think you folks are awesome. I was wondering if Frak might join up. I’d love to have a character in Ironsong, even if it’s not crazy Uncle ‘Ganga. I have read the code of conduct and agree to follow it. ))
Nganga Nyeusi
He is fast and is the danger.
What's a dazzling urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting like this?
He is fast and is the danger.
What's a dazzling urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting like this?
