Too Hot!

The normally soothing breeze blowing though the grasses of Mulgore today carried nothing but more of the oppressive heat. Even the grasses themselves seemed to wilt under the unrelenting summer sun. Gentlewind lay among those grasses next to the small creek near her village, her fur still wet from rolling in that same creek. It didn’t help. She wanted to fuss and whine but mother would tell her that whining accomplished nothing. Gentlewind knew from experience the only thing it accomplished was a scolding!

She had shed her brightly colored patchwork leathers before splashing around in the creek and as she looked over at her tunic didn’t look forward to putting them back on. With a heavy sigh she looked back at the creek and wondered if she should just lie in the water to keep cool. She scratched at an itchy spot and grimaced. Even her own fur was too hot!

She nibbled on her lip trying to think of something she could do to ease her discomfort. Nearby her rocketbot clanked listlessly. Even HE seemed overwhelmed by the heat! She scratched at her fur again as a bug skittered across her arm. She rolled over on her stomach to let breeze blow across her sweat-dampened back. Still the heat built up on her fur and the breeze gave little relief.

Already she had spent enough time in the creek to count for a month’s worth of baths. Her leathers lay scattered about and she couldn’t bring herself to even think of putting them back on. There must be something else she could do!

Her eyes landed on her skinning knife still slung on her belt lying in the grass nearby. Mother always said she should find her own solutions to her problems.

*******

Snowbreeze fanned herself as she stepped into the tent she shared with her mate, Redmane and their daughter, Gentlewind. She frowned seeing that her daughter was not here either. Redmane looked up with a warm smile before seeing the look of concern on her face.

“Is something the matter?” He asked his mate, standing from where he had been sprawled on a rug in the heat.

“I can’t find Gentlewind,” she said simply, looking around as if the child might suddenly appear in the tent.

Redmane shrugged. “Likely she is off playing. Surely with as much noise as she makes someone has seen her. We will go ask around.”

Snowbreeze shook her head and looked more worried. “No, nobody has seen her. I’ve already asked everyone. She’s been silent since this morning.”

Redmane checked the sun over Snowbreeze’s shoulder through the tent entry. So at least three hours their calf had not made a peep. He frowned and headed toward the exit. “I will find her. Perhaps she is at the creek. That has been a favorite spot.”

“She’s been too quiet too long,” Snowbreeze said as he passed. “Something is wrong or….”

He nodded. “It is the ‘or’ that concerns me.”

He left the tent and made his way to Gentlewind’s favorite spot by the creek. As he neared it he saw his daughter sprawled in the grass. Something didn’t look right and the clumps of white scattered about her puzzled him. In a panic he rushed over to his daughter to find the white clumps were fur and there were great patches of it missing all over her body. Pink skin glared at him from her young form.

“Gentlewind!” He knelt by his daughter and touched her face. She opened her eyes and just stared at him for a moment. When she raised her hand to wave at him the skinning knife was still in it. “What… what did you do?”

“I’m too hot, father!”

Thanks for the inspiration, Anna!

Too Hot!

Meg woke with her mouth feeling nearly as sticky as her bare skin. The stuffiness of the room and the thick, sticky air told her what kind of day it was going to be; hot and miserable. Again. The temperature during the night had dropped to almost pleasant but with the coming of dawn she could feel the heat and humidity rising to envelope Stormwind.

Movement next to her and a moment later a hot, heavy arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against an equally hot body. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she felt the sweat already begin to form where their skin pressed together.

“Good morning,” the voice in her ear was rough from drinking, the breath hot and irritating on her neck.

“Get ya han’s offa me. It’s too hot,” she muttered back trying to pull away from whoever she’d taken to her room the night before. She couldn’t remember, seldom did. The most important thing this morning, though, was to get his hot body away from hers.

He chuckled and ran his hand up her stomach to caress her breast and kissed her sloppily between the shoulders. Even that felt hot and slimy. “That isn’t whatcha said last night, sweets.”

With a growl she grabbed his arm locked hers around it. With a heave of her shoulders she levered him over the top of her and sent him sprawling out of the bed onto the floor. Once the bed was hers alone she rolled over and sprawled on it. “I said getcha hands offa me!” She snarled at the man staring at her with a shocked expression. “It’s too damn hot!”

She ignored him as he threw a few curses at her and gathered up his things to leave the room. Maybe it was time to go back to Northrend. At least there her brains wouldn’t boil in her helmet. At least not from the weather’s heat.

Rearranging the burning logs with an iron poker, Garilos stared absentmindedly at the dancing flames. Although there were others in the inn, he was the only one sitting near the fireplace. There was plenty of room in front of the large fireplace. A handful of rough-hewn chairs formed a semi-circle in front of it, one of which had been pulled close to the fireplace and was now occupied by Garilos. Another chair was taken over by his gear and pack.

The fireplace was constructed of stone and mortar. It had a mantle made from the rough-hewn log of some indigenous tree. Placed on the mantle were a couple taper candles made from beeswax, an empty wine bottle, a large pine cone, and an assortment of knick-knacks, probably placed there by the owners of the inn or maybe by a traveler or two.

Spanning the width of the firebox was a thick iron rod from which several metal hooks hung. Although the inn had its own kitchen for preparing food for patrons, Garilos, like many travelers, often used the fireplace to prepare his own. On several occasions, he had used the fireplace to prepare fish he had caught in the local waters. Over a decade ago, while living in Auberdine, he had learned a technique of preserving fish for later consumption by carefully drying it over a fire. The night elves had taught him that and many other food preparation recipes which had served him well during his adventuring in Northrend.

Tonight, however, Garilos was preparing no food. Shortly after arriving at the inn, he had purchased a simple meal of hot stew, smoked cheese, and ale from the innkeeper. The hot stew consisted of potatoes, a few vegetables, and ram’s meat caught by local hunters in the nearby mountains. The ale, a farmhouse ale, was effervescent enough to wash down the thick, cloying taste of the smoked cheese but otherwise was bland.

The empty plates and mug from his dinner sat next to him on the outer hearth of the fireplace. Garilos had consumed the food without tasting it, his thoughts elsewhere. He had returned to Valgarde looking for Megaly. Upon arrival, he had made a beeline to the inn to inquire of her. When he asked the assistant innkeeper if Megaly was around or if there were any messages for him, the stout woman had shrugged her shoulders noncommittally and then wandered off.

An hour or two later, the innkeeper had approached Garilos with a rolled up piece of hide. “Garilos? This was left for you.” Snatching the item from the hands of the innkeeper, Garilos deciphered the message written on it. Looking back at the innkeeper, he asked “How long ago did she leave this?” With a shrug, the innkeeper replied, “I don’t recall. A day or maybe a week ago. Coulda been more than that too.”

This had been the nearest to Megaly Garilos had been in many weeks and now he had no idea where she might be. Was she only a day out of Valgarde or a month? As best as he could tell, she was headed towards Valiance Keep in the Borean Tundra. If she had left only a day or two ago, he might be able to intercept her. If he knew what route she was taking.

But if she had left a month ago, she might already be on the return trip to Valgarde Keep. Garilos didn’t know what to do. Staying at the inn until the storm blew past seemed the obvious choice for now but what to do after that? Garilos knew Ramsey, his netherwing drake, was never far away. Ramsey probably could get Garilos to Valiance Keep quickly but, if Megaly had traveled by sea, Garilos doubted Ramsey had it in him to search the vast ocean south of Northrend.

Garilos was startled out of his revere when a strong gust of wind blew open the door of the inn with a load bang. A patron seated near the door jumped up and quickly slammed the door closed. “Ugh. I’m not going anywhere tonight, ” Garilos muttered to himself.

Rising from his chair, he gathered up his empty plates and mug and wandered over to the bar. After placing them on the bar, he settled into a stool and said to the bartender, “It looks like I’ll be spending the night here with this weather. I’ll have another pint of the ale.”

(( This originally appeared on Garilos’ Blog as “Garilos Duroc: Return to Valgarde“. ))

From his vantage point, he could see the scattered huts and fire pits of the small camp. Garilos carefully memorized the location of every hut, boulder, and tree in the camp, creating a map in his head which he rotated and examined as he plotted his course of action. He also made a note of the routes of the worgen guards patrolling the perimeter of the camp.

If any in the village were to look to where he was hidden, they would see nothing but shadows within shadows. Even with the moon out tonight, it would be difficult for any to see Garilos.

“Do they have nightmares…”, Garilos asked himself as he silently pulled a dagger from its sheath. Even the blade of the dagger was difficult to see, blackened as it was to prevent any reflected light from betraying its position.

Stealthily rising from his position, Garilos looked about for any possible threats. Upon seeing none, he crept forward to the worgen camp. He silently crossed the open field separating him from the camp, his feet making no noise as they quickly closed the distance to Garilos’ first target.

Walking up behind a guard, Garilos stood a mere two yards from the unaware of worgen. Even their acute hearing and eyes could not detect Garilos tonight. Not this night, not when he had culling to do. There was too much evil in the world for him to fail. He had a duty to cull the evil.

Collecting his thoughts, Garilos focused on the guard. As the guard came to one end of its patrol route, it turned and looked straight at Garilos. And kept walking its route, unseeing. When the guard passed in front of him, Garilos stepped out of the shadows behind the guard and quietly cut the neck of his target with his dagger. Silently dropping the stiffening corpse to the ground, Garilos looked around to see if anyone had noticed his attack. Seeing no one had taken notice, Garilos slipped back into the shadows and waited for his next prey.

“Let them whisper of me, in terror, as they huddle around their fires,” Garilos thought to himself as he prepared to strike again.

As he waited for his dinner to warm up, he cleaned and repaired his gear. Aside from a few scratches in his leather chest piece, his armor was in good shape. He gotten some worgen blood on his pants but that was easily removed with an emulsion of water and herbs he had gathered in the woods near his camp site.

He had had a particularly productive evening, killing a dozen worgen. He finally had to give up the hunt when the camp became alarmed at the unexpected disappearance of its guards. The alarm was raised when a worgen had wandered from the center of the camp to the perimeter. Upon seeing no guards, it let out a loud howl that alerted the rest of the camp.

Garilos was already a quarter mile away on a ledge overlooking the camp by the time the camp was fully alerted. As soon as he saw the worgen making its way to the edge of the camp, he knew his actions would soon be discovered. Running silently, he quickly retreated to a vantage point to watch the ensuing chaos.

With a bitter chuckle, he watched the worgen search the surrounding woods and field for the bodies of their fallen pack members. Garilos had taken care to hide the bodies but only well enough such they were not discovered as he did his culling. He knew nothing he did would conceal the bodies for long, especially as they released their smell of death into the night breeze.

Even now, he could smell the worgen and their fear. He could smell it in the wind and on his armor. Wrinkling his nose, he spat on the ground. “Disgusting creatures.”

Garilos had no intention of being found and already had another destination planned. He had been moving from worgen camp to worgen camp, culling their numbers. Killing just enough at each camp to sow terror in their hearts.

As he walked along the edge of a brushy field, Garilos wondered what Megaly was doing. He had not seen nor heard from her for weeks. He had sent letters to Valgarde for her but had no idea if she was still there. He did not expect her to find him, not with his constant moving from one location to the next. He could only hope she might leave a message for him at the inn in Valgarde.

Looking back upon his recent actions, he wondered what Megaly would say. Certainly she would understand the need to rid the world of such evil but would she question his sanity? Already, Garilos had learned to not discuss his actions with others as they frequently called into question his motives.

What did they know? They were not there when he had to slay the spirits of the Tuskarr. Those spirits of the peaceful Tuskarr, doomed to wander their village, never knowing why they had died or where to go.

Garilos came to stop next to a small creek running through the wood. Setting down his pack, Garilos surveyed the surrounding area. He saw recent signs of animal passing through but signs of humans or similar creatures were already days old.

Digging a water flask out of his pack, Garilos knelt down next to the creek to fill the flask with fresh water. The creek was only a few inches deep at its deepest point. It sparkled and burbled as it flowed around rocks and fallen branches. Its bottom was covered with rocks and fallen leaves.

As Garilos looked at the rocks on the creek bottom, a particularly pretty one caught his eye. “Hey … I’ll send that to Megaly,” he said to himself as he slipped it into his pocket. With a click, the rock settled in with a dozen other odds and ends he had found and saved for Megaly. With that rock were several other rocks, a seashell or two, an odd coin he had pickpocketed from a goblin in Dalaran, a shiny button, a tarnished ring, and a glass marble he had found near a fire pit in the Grizzly Hills.

Patting his pocket, he wondered what Megaly had done with the other rocks he had sent her. Or if she had even received them. Standing up from his spot next to the creek, Garilos sighed. “I gotta get back to Valgarde and look for Megaly again. Maybe she returned to Stormwind…I dunno.”

Hefting his pack over his shoulder, Garilos stood momentarily before stepping across the creek. As he trod off into the forest, he whispered to himself, “But first, one more worgen camp, then I’ll return to Valgarde.”

(( Originally posted on Garilos’ Blog as “Garilos Duroc: Do They Have Nightmares?”. ))

My confusion grows. I learned Ursoc has been resurrected but in a corrupted form! I spoke to the son and daughter of Ursoc. Orsonn said his father was corrupted by the same evil which corrupted Vordrassil.

I don’t know what to do. When I lived among the Night Elves of Ashenvale, they told me of Ursoc and his brother Ursol fighting side by side with Cenarius against the Burning Legion. Both Latissimus and Levatorani told me they witnessed their fall to the Burning Legion. Do I dare tell them Ursoc has been resurrected? That he is corrupted?

Are even the Ancients turning against us?

With love,
Garilos.

The following appears to have been written at a later time.

I’ve lost all hope. I’ve been asked to kill Ursoc.

The hastily scribbled writing below appears to have been written after the above writing.

What is this old god Ursoc speaks of, Yogg-Saron? Can its evil corrupt even Ancients such as Ursoc?

Why does the druid stare past me as I tell her I have slain Ursoc as she had asked?

(( Originally posted on Garilos’ Blog as “A Short Letter to Megaly”. ))

Many big congratulations to you both! We’re all waiting for pictures! Before long, he’ll be level 80 and ready to raid!

/BIG HUGS!!!

Dear Megaly,

I hope you are well. I’ve been busy helping the Tuskarr of Moa’ki Harbor in The Dragonblight. I first came across this race of fishermen while working for the Alliance forces operating out of Valiance Keep in the Borean Tundra.

After living peacefully for centuries in their primitive villages, the Tuskarr recently came under attack by the vicious Vrykul. The Vrykul destroyed countless villages in the Borean Tundra and the Dragonblight. I’ve spent many days and nights assisting the Tuskarr, so much so they now accept me as a member of their society.

As much as it pained me to see the harm brought by the Vrykul, I am not surprised by the actions of those savages. My experiences at Valgarde taught me to give no quarter to the Vrykul. It is good to see the Tuskarr have learned the same lesson and are now holding their own against the Vrykul.

But I can’t understand what I’ve seen done by the blue dragons. In a quest to control magic, the blue dragons ripped open a ley line under Indu’le Village, a Tuskarr village in the Dragonblight. The resultant explosion of magic energy killed most of the village and drove the survivors insane. The poor spirits of the slain tuskarr wander the village, trapped in this world. I cried with grief when I was instructed by the Elder Mana’loa to slay the spirits so they could move on. It was as if I was slaying the spirits of my own ancestors!

Why would the blue dragons needlessly cause so much harm to the innocent Tuskarr? The tuskarr are simple fishermen who live their lives centered around family and kin. Were not the dragons appointed to protect such people? It is bad enough we must contend with Arthas’ betrayal but now we must face the apparent betrayal of the blue dragons!

There is no peace. Every where I look I see the corruption sown by the Burning Legion. The undead forces of the Lich King walk the land, a threat to every living creature. Even the dragons can not be trusted as they madly grasp for power. I’ve even heard rumors of insane Titans.

I’m questioning my understanding of the world. Everything seems to be a lie. The world feels wrong to me.

Garilos.

Who was the first person to leave a comment on your blog that is still blogging?

84 posts and 162 comments later it was……

Anna!! My very first comment by a blogger still blogging, and actually my very first comment ever! Read her comment HERE. Through my whole blogging experience (even though I’m not as dedicated to it as I should be and perhaps a little scattery in the way I post and what I post) she’s been a great supporter and really nifty friend. Many times her Dear… posts brought me the giggle I needed on a sour day or her informative posts gave me that little tidbit of info I was looking for. Sometimes she even gives me giggles over Gtalk while I’m slaving away at work. Thanks Anna.

So I guess I throw it out to someone else now?

• Grizz at Nekkid Cow!
• Garilos at Scott McGerik’s WoW Blog
• Jezrael at DPS We Deliver
• Grizo at Grizo Shatterhoof
• Boetan at Two Gnomes and an Elf

Sometimes we get so wrapped up in the little crap we lose sight of what matters. Thanks B for the reminder.