The Leatherworkers [Tier 8]

“You really don’t need to do that,” the tauren insisted, hovering helplessly while the orc changed and re-fluffed his sleeping pallet.

“Nonsense,” she told him matter-of-factly, giving the pallet a satisfied pat. “Whenever you go to a new place, if you do nothing else you should at least set up a place to sleep.”

Rolling his eyes in defeat, he watched her bustle around the room, giving it a final once-over for anything useful she could do. Finally, she came to stand before him, grinning cheekily at his long-suffering expression.

“I’m not an invalid anymore, you know. Besides, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve been injured on the job,” he joked. When the orc’s expression became pinched, he immediately regretted his words.

Lips pulled in tightly, she lifted her chin, managing to look down her nose at him despite the height difference. “Just because it’s happened before doesn’t mean it gets any easier.”

“Er,” he muttered apologetically, ears fluttering against his skull. “Sorry. I know that. It’s not exactly a party for me, either.”

Satisfied at his contrite pout, she headed for the door. “I gotta get to work. It’s not like I have any excuse to be missing time.” She gently punched his shoulder. “Looking forward to seeing you back in your usual spot tomorrow,” she said.

He smiled. “Me, too. Try not to kill anyone at work today.”

With a smirk, she closed the door behind her, leaving the tauren to his dusty quarters. Although the druids who had cared for him had determined him fit to go back to living unassisted a week ago, the orc had insisted he stay with her until he was ready to go back to work. Finally, she had agreed to escort him back to his long-neglected apartment.

He poked at the few possessions he had kept with him throughout the ordeal, intending to put his things back in order. From the bundle the orc had brought with them (she had refused to let him carry it, to his amused embarrassment), he began to remove the efficiently-packed contents. First was the gear he had been wearing when injured, now cleaned and repaired to the orc’s exacting standards. Following that were the handful of shirts and trousers she had fetched for his stay in her quarters. And finally, earning a surprised laugh from him, was the collection of tauren children’s stories that the orc had picked up Earthmother-knows-where.

Smiling to himself, the tauren began to slowly put his quarters back to rights. While he worked, he mulled over the weeks to come. After intensive rehabilitation, he was much closer to his original strength and speed, although it would still take more training and drills to get back to his best fighting ability. Hopefully he would be declared ready sooner rather than later; as much as he appreciated the orc’s attentiveness, he was eager to return to the easy banter they had when on the job.

***

“I’ve gotta say, this is one of the more relaxing gigs we’ve done in a while.” The orc stood casually, surveying the grassy plateau stretching out from the rocky overhang where they took shelter.

Thunder rolled overhead, providing a percussive background to the constant hum of rain. Despite the location, they were warm enough in the wet. Once again, the tauren gave silent thanks for the unusual climate of Sholazar Basin.

The pair watched as a streak of lightning arced through the air, charring the earth and leaving behind a tiny, glinting shard.

The orc strode out into the rain, habitually adjusting her gloves in preparation to collect the sizzling shard. The tauren followed close behind, eyes roving constantly over the quiet field for signs of any stray elementals on the plateau. Although the elementals were erratic in their movement, they sometimes made their way up to this secluded field where most of the star shards fell.

With a practiced ease, the orc scooped the glimmering, hissing shard into a padded rubber bag, where it fizzled harmlessly, awaiting shaping in their workshop. The metal would remain white-hot until the final quenching, after which it would be affixed to a delicate circlet. The orc had expressed her displeasure at the final design, arguing that the druids diving into the thick of battle would need something more durable for headgear, but the tauren remained a staunch advocate of the dainty crown. He had even tried the finished product on once or twice – when the orc wasn’t around, of course.

They retreated to the overhang to await another lightning strike. “This is almost like a vacation,” the orc mused. “Not that I’ll turn down the hazard pay, of course.”

“We’ve still got a few days to go before we meet our quota,” the tauren responded. “We might see some interesting action before the end!”

The orc sighed wistfully. “Yeah…at least the potential for that beats sitting around in the workshop for another month. I was beginning to think we had fallen out of favor with the druids for a while there.”

Another bolt of lightning lanced down into the earth nearby. Grinning triumphantly at the tauren, the orc once again stepped into the rain, making her way towards the pitted earth where another star shard waited, smoldering.

This time, the tauren noticed a crackling aura making its way up to the edge of the plateau. The elemental  hadn’t noticed them yet, but he knew it would likely be very cranky when it did. “Heads up,” he called to the orc, hefting his mace and putting himself between her and their foe.

“Yep,” the orc replied, tying the bag to her belt and raising her axe in preparation.

By now the elemental had taken notice of the strange fleshy creatures invading its territory. It gave a gusty shriek and unleashed a tiny whirlwind that zipped across the space between them, driving rain into their eyes and whipping mud into a clinging sludge around their feet.

It followed its attack by charging at them. The tauren went to meet it, ensuring that he would be the first to engage.

As its body was made primarily of mist, the tauren would have to be very precise in his strikes to hit the energized rock fragments that made up the only substantial part of its torso. He swung his mace, hoping that even with his relatively slow swings he could make the one powerful hit necessary to take out the revenant. His first swing missed, and he ducked down to follow the mace as the elemental slashed at where his head had been.

Against protocol, the orc circled around behind the revenant to add her own attacks. Not only was she supposed to leave the main defense to him, but she was also potentially in the way of his mace as well.

“Move!” the tauren shouted, not waiting before he swung his mace again, this time catching a chunk of the revenant’s body. It let out a shriek reminiscent of wind whistling through a small crevice and darted away, disappearing over the lip of the plateau.

The orc pushed back her hood and rubbed her gloved hand vigorously against the smooth skin of her head. “Hate those little pests!” she commented.

“Hate them all you want, but just remember that it’s my job to deal with them,” the tauren chastised sternly. When she opened her mouth to argue, he cut her off with, “I know your job is boring this time around, but you have to at least let me have priority when it comes to these guys. Otherwise I’m getting paid for nothing!”

They glared stubbornly at each other until the moment as disturbed by a low-pitched roar carried on a violent gust of wind. This was closely followed by the appearance of an enormous elemental making its way onto the plateau. It dwarfed the other revenants they had seen so far by two or three times, and appeared to be equally as incensed. When it noticed them, it let out another piercing cry and began to lumber towards them.

“Time to go,” the tauren remarked, scouting behind them for an escape route.

“It doesn’t look so bad,” the orc replied, stubbornly planting her feet and motioning as if to challenge it.

The tauren grabbed her bicep and propelled her in front of him. “You obviously didn’t read the dossier on the Terrace. Even if we could take that thing, the Oracles would be pretty upset if we killed one of their revered spirits.”

Sighing in resignation, the orc began to lope along beside the tauren. The revenant, upon seeing its quarry running away, responded by whipping up the storm. The swirling wind and pelting rain lowered visibility and turned the ground into a slippery swamp, slowing their progress. The orc stumbled, falling to one knee in the thickening mud. As he ran past, the tauren grabbed her elbow, using his height advantage to pull her to her feet. The bag of shards, stuck in the mud, gave a weak squelch and ripped from where it was tied to the orc’s belt.

Cursing, the orc turned to retrieve it, but the tauren shoved her ahead of him. “I’ve got it! You head for the path into the Maker’s Perch!”

She spared a glance at the revenant gaining on them before turning to obey. Sighing in relief, the tauren wrenched their precious cargo from the sticky clutches of the mud gathering around his ankles and took off after her.

The walls of the Maker’s Perch jumped up suddenly from within the curtain of rain. The orc immediately put her hands to the stone, searching for the tiny path they had found that led into the titan-engineered stronghold.

“Left, left,” the tauren instructed, glancing over his shoulder at the revenant. It vented its frustration by flicking a whip-like tendril of wind at him, snapping dangerously just short of his cheek.

“I got it!” the orc’s disembodied voice floated to him from within the jagged crack amidst the stones.

 “Don’t just stand there; get inside!” He made to follow, only to discover that the width of his shoulders was at odds with the parameters of the crevice.

“Come on!” the orc shouted from within, not yet realizing the problem. From without came another vicious crack of wind, this one catching him above the elbow and slicing neatly through armor and skin. The tauren grunted.

Having noticed the tauren’s halted progress, the orc rushed back to him, grabbing his wrist and tugging. He felt the stone scraping across his chest and back as his partner slowly but surely tugged him into the safety of the cave. Tucking his head to protect his horns, he dug in with his hooves, running in place and kicking up a spray of mud behind him.

The whirlwind outside was a roaring frenzy now, and he could feel rain and debris pattering against his still-exposed side. With a final panicked groan, the orc pulled with her entire bodyweight, bringing the tauren through the diminutive hole in the wall and into the wider cave beyond. He toppled forward, taking her down in the process. As they fell he twisted, so as to keep himself ready for any attack from the elemental outside.

Shrieking in frustration, the elemental predictably sent a final assault as its foe escaped, this time in the form of a crackling bolt of lightning. It struck the tauren square in the chest, knocking the breath out of him with an uncomfortable whoosh.

Still trapped beneath him, the orc began to shout in alarm, frantically struggling to free herself so she could assess the damage. Roaring in frustration, she finally managed to disentangle herself and reach for the tauren, cradling his head between her hands and scrutinizing his face.

“Are you all right?” she practically screamed, pulling on an eyelid to check his pupil.

He wheezed out a laugh, then hissed as something hot brushed against his finger. “I’m fine. It didn’t hit me.” He glanced down. “Well, not directly.”

Together they looked at the bag of star shards he had unwittingly held against his chest. The center was blackened where it had absorbed the full force of the lightning strike, and on top of that lay a perfect, glimmering star shard.

The Leatherworkers [New Idea]

I feel like this is a good time for #sorrynotsorry. Or maybe #yolo? I'm not good with hashtags.

The Leatherworkers [Not Our Division]

"I filled up an extra water jug-"

"I'm fine."

"-and someone should be by around lunchtime to check on you-"

"I'm fine."

"-and of course I'll bring dinner home with me."

The tauren huffed irritably from his throne of cushions. "You went over all of this last night. It's not like my memory was injured."

"Yes, well," the orc frowned. "I need you back in fighting form as soon as possible. Going to work by myself is boring."

"You work shifts opposite mine all the time when we don't have a project!" he protested. When the orc ignored him in favor of adding another blanket to the frankly alarming pile of things he might need "just in case," he flopped back against his pillow and sighed noisily. "I'm going to go completely mad being cooped up like this."

The orc glanced at him disbelievingly. "You're welcome to read any of my books."

He snorted. "Animal anatomy textbooks and every issue of Chainmail Monthly do not a library make."

"Fine!" The orc threw up her hands, grabbed her keys, and went to the door. "I'll get something more appropriate for you. Perhaps a book of tauren fairytales."

"Tauren do not have fairytales!" he shouted at the slamming door.

It was true that they didn't always work alongside each other when they weren't working on a specific set of gear. But the orc normally didn't spend her solo shifts worrying that her partner had managed to fall on his cracked ribs or bump his bruised head.

Now she was frowning over a shoddy piece of novice work, unable to find any redeeming feature, unless the wearer for some reason had one leg half a foot longer than the other. The shop bell tinkled and she looked up, eager for any distraction.

A grey-furred, grey-maned tauren stepped inside, looking around shyly. She clutched a familiar parchment in one hand. The orc stood, inviting the tauren to come and sit at her worktable.

The tauren unfurled the parchment across the desk. "I'm here on behalf of the Earthen Ring. We're looking to commission a set of new chainmail for the Pandaria exploratory forces..."

The orc leaned over the specifications, scanning the parameters quickly. "Ahh, this is shaman gear, isn't it," she said unnecessarily.

"That's right," the tauren agreed.

The orc muttered possible materials and locations quietly to herself, drawing a finger down the parameters outlined in the document. The tauren looked on with obvious interest. With a sigh, the orc sat back heavily. "I'm afraid to tell you, Ambassador..."

"Kamalia," the tauren supplied. She seemed surprised by the orc's sudden change in mood.

"Ambassador Kamalia, I'm afraid to tell you that although there are several leatherworkers in this shop that specialize in blacksmithing incorporated into leather, neither I nor my partner are qualified to do this kind of work. I would offer to canvass potential materials and send them to another leatherworker to craft, but my partner was injured on our last assignment and isn't fully recovered, so I can't even do that." The orc grimaced.

Kamalia made a sympathetic noise. "I'm very sorry to hear that." She peered more closely at the orc, evidently putting some rumors together. "So, you mean that I could get the materials from one leatherworker, and then have a different one craft the gear?" The orc nodded. "But you can't, because your partner is out, and you can't work with anyone else?"

Something in the orc's cheek twitched. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Oh, well, all right! I understand. So...I should go somewhere else?" Kamalia asked pleasantly.

The orc sighed with obvious displeasure. "Yes, as much as I want this commission, Ambassador, I'm afraid the best I can do for you is to refer you to one of our sister workshops. Of course, our guild is committed to providing only the highest quality work, and as such I'll give you the name of the best mail armor specialists in town."

Kamalia smiled. "That would be very helpful! I'm afraid I haven't done this sort of thing before, so I simply asked around my friends for workshops..."

The orc smiled. "Well, I'm glad they gave you our name. Give me just one moment; I'll bring the shop information and a token you can use to show that we referred you."

"A token?" Kamalia asked.

"Yes, as I recall, not only will they give you a referral discount but there is a special deal for commissions from the Earthen Ring..." She slipped through the privacy curtain cutting the back room off from the main work area.

Two apprentices were working on studding a large pile of belts. One of them, a troll employed for less than half a year in the workshop, was in the middle of ranting to the other. "I heard that he was beaten up by a night elf!"

The orc froze.

The troll continued. "And do you know why he became a leatherworker in the first place? He used to be a hunter, but his pet died..."

Her eyes unfocused in quickly mounting rage.

"...and he was so sad that he quit right then and there!"

With a snarl, the orc seized the troll and slammed him against the nearest wall. He struggled, spluttering and indignant, when her forearm pressed dangerously against his windpipe, then immediately went still when he felt the pinprick of a knife just under his ribs. The other recruit, a soft-spoken forsaken, had practically fallen out of her chair and now hovered uncertainly just out of the orc's reach. The shop owner, who had been surreptitiously snoozing at his desk, was now looming apprehensively over the pair.

"How dare you speak about your better in such a way. You shouldn't even be allowed to think about him!" she snarled, resisting every urge to plunge the knife home and twist. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a very quiet voice repeated that this reaction was definitely more than was called for.

A large hand landed firmly on her shoulder, both a comfort and a warning. "All right, then," the Master Leatherworker said. He tugged gently at her, and she reluctantly released the troll. In response, the troll rolled his shoulders and made a show of not being terrified. "Frankly, we shouldn't even have to have this conversation," the shopkeeper told the troll calmly, "but you don't go speaking ill about your coworkers, especially ones who have been putting themselves in unbelievable danger to protect their partners for longer than you've been legally allowed to use juju. You're off the rotation for the month, and I hope you spend all that time with no pay thinking about how I could justify letting her gut you for such comments. Get out." He folded his thick arms and watched the troll slink out the door with a grimace. Then he turned to the orc. "As for you...are you all right? Should you even be here right now?"

The orc sniffed. "I'm fine, as long as I can stay away from fools like that." They sized each other up for a moment, then the larger orc shrugged his shoulders.

"Whatever. As long as you don't kill anybody...well, as long as you don't kill anybody who doesn't deserve it. I'm gonna go get some lunch. Try not to slaughter any customers while I'm out."

The orc returned to Kamalia, who had waited, face stiff in wary politeness throughout the entire interaction. "Listen, do the tauren have any sort of fairytales? I need to get a friend a gift."

The Leatherworkers [Tier 5]

The troll druid quietly slipped around the orc, helped the tauren to sit more comfortably against his cushions, and unobtrusively left, leaving the orc staring intently at her friend. Sunlight streamed in through the small window, creating a faint halo around his horns. Her eyes raked across him, noting the haggard sag of his face, the trembling in his hands, and the massive bandage around his torso.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," the orc said. They grinned stupidly at each other.

"Sore is right," the tauren replied, wincing as he shifted. "I feel like I was trampled by a stampede of kodo!"

The orc folded herself down next to her friend. Seated, he still towered over her. She pushed away the knowledge that the injury was far worse than being trampled, that the druids had despaired of him waking, that he could have lost the use of his legs. He didn't need to hear those worries. Noticing a blanket folded at his feet, she made a show of draping it over her own legs, then casually tucked the other half across his knees.

"I'm not a calf," he said shortly, reaching for the blanket.

She ignored his hands and smoothed it across his lap. "I know that."

"I'm not ready for pasture yet, either." His voice rose.

"I know that," she replied mildly. Their eyes met for a tense moment. "You've got a while yet till you start losing your mane," she joked.

After a pause his glare softened, and he snorted. "Earthmother send that I never wind up as bald as you."

"You could never look as good as I do bald," she shot back, and the mood was just like old times.

The orc tilted her face up, feeling the sunlight prickle her scalp. "Do you remember when we had to go swimming?"

"To get those vines?" He grimaced. "I like swimming, but when everything in the water is trying to kill you..."

"At least you're good at swimming! If it hadn't been for those endless breathing potions, I wouldn't have even gotten into the water."

They exchanged glances before downing their water skins together. The tauren shook his head, sticking out his tongue at the unpleasantly salty flavor. He waded in to the water, the orc following less eagerly. She stopped, immersed to her ribs, and frowned. 

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to breathing underwater," she muttered. Then, she sank under the surface, eyes squeezed shut, and breathed deeply through her mouth. Thanks to the magic of the breathing potion, the water was uncomfortable, but not choking. It swirled coolly down her throat and pooled in her lungs. She opened her eyes. 

The tauren had been waiting patiently for her and now kicked his hooves, moving towards the dark, sinuous patch of seaweed climbing the steep bank opposite them. Nestled in the undulating seaweed were the knots of slimy, strangling vines the druids needed for their forays into Tempest Keep. He did not relish fighting aggressive vegetation on the doorstep of Serpentshrine Cavern, but this would be their job until a new method was discovered.

"But then, that one time we dropped by the hop field..." the orc said, eyes twinkling.

The tauren scrunched up his face even as he smiled. "Ahh, don't remind me, it hurts to laugh!"

They had been merrymaking at a small farm owned by a mutual friend and were leaving in the wee hours of the morning. Chuckling quietly, they staggered across the dry chill of Durotar, aiming for the Orgrimmar city gates. They passed by other small farms, including a small personal hop yard.

The tauren gestured to the vines climbing the support trellis. "L-look," he slurred. "We could grab these and make-" he hiccuped, "-beer armor." 

The orc snorted. "Could enchant it to make drinks stronger to the wearer."

Giggling, the orc grabbed a vine and wound it around his head like a crown. The hop clusters stuck out comically over his forehead. "I'm ready for Brewfest!" 

The orc began to laugh, doubling over and shaking helplessly in her drunken state. "Hop bracers could make you able to hold bigger, deeper mugs!"

Suiting her words, the tauren grabbed another string of hops and wound it around one wrist. He fumbled, attempting to wrap the other, and finally gave up. The orc laughed hysterically at this display.

"Don't-don't use too much," she cautioned, gasping with mirth. "You'll ruin the beer!" She leaned against a support pole of the trellis, then stumbled backward. Her hands grasped for purchase, finding only fistfuls of hops, and she fell gracelessly to the ground covered in vines.

Forgetting where they were, the tauren let out a guffaw. "Now who's ruining the beer?" he challenged. Neither spoke while they cackled maniacally. 

A light flared to life inside the distant hut, and the door opened with bang. "WHO IS THAT ON MY LAWN?!" shouted an irate orc.

The pair looked at each other, mirth forgotten. "Go, go," whispered the orc breathlessly, scrambling to her feet.

They took off, trailing vines behind them.

Two days later, having slept the previous day away, the orc turned up early in the leatherworking shop and discovered several lengths of hop clusters in her bag. I must have carried them with me, she mused, not remembering much after the party. With no pressing matters on the schedule, she decided to put her idle hands to work and make a gag gift for her partner. 

Three hours later, she had a fairly convincing pair of gloves, which she placed on the tauren's worktable. She rationalized the use of valuable leather as practice rather than waste. After all, the design was still new, and she needed to make good armor for the druids that commissioned the shop. Stomach rumbling, she closed the workshop and went in search of some grub.

Upon returning to the workshop, the orc noticed that several other leatherworkers had trickled in during her absence. The tauren was seated at his table, pretending to peruse a Cenarion Circle missive. His eyes were still a little red. The orc strode over to him and slapped the table good-naturedly, causing him to wince slightly. 

"Did you get my present?"

He blinked. "What present?"

She gestured to his desk. "I made your a pair of gloves and left them on your table. A special pair of gloves," she prompted, grinning. He showed no recognition. Frowning, she continued, "A Brewfest...pair of gloves...?"

Another leatherworker, an unusually slender goblin, strode into the room. Hearing only the last part, she piped up, "Oh, I found those gloves you made and added them to the shipment to Shattrath. The vendor there can't seem to keep anything in stock, so it was great you made extra!" She continued about her business, oblivious to the frozen silence she left in her wake.

The trouble seemed far away now, safe in the bright room in the valley. Dust motes pranced through the sun shafts, heedless of the quiet inhabitants.

"I didn't tell anyone else in the workshop but you. I sent a courier to Shattrath, but by the time he arrived they had sold the pair, and the druid wore them into battle before he heard of the mistake. It's a miracle he survived wearing what should have been a party favor."

"All's well that end's well," the tauren said consolingly. "Just think of all the time we wasted gathering vines the hard way!"

The orc threw back her head and began to laugh. The tauren looked on, smiling, as she laughed herself silly. After several minutes, her giggles subsided and she wiped tears from her eyes.

The tauren watched this with polite amusement. "What was that all about?"

"I don't know," she said, gently clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I'm just glad you're back."

The Leatherworkers [Tier 4]

The room was quiet when the orc slipped inside. She had waited for the druids to finish their healing and leave, and it was late enough that she didn't expect any other visitors. The tauren-shaped lump in the center of the room's single pallet was still, save for its shallow breathing. The orc sat cross-legged at the head of the pallet and looked at her friend.

The tauren looked terrible. Even in sleep, his eyes clenched and unclenched in pain. His fur was dull and dry and rasped against the bedding when he moved. This close, she could hear a faint wheeze in his labored breathing. The orc had never seen him look so bad. Her chest constricted painfully.

"Huh," she grunted. "Usually you're the talkative one. I don't know quite what to say." She huddled in silence, eyes never moving from her partner.

Finally she shifted, stretching out a leg and rolling her neck. "Do you remember," she croaked, cleared her throat, and tried again. "Do you remember the first time we went hunting Crust Bursters in Blade's Edge Mountains? The Cenarion Circle barely looked at the paperwork before approving them as a source of chitin." She huffed out a laugh. "Do you remember the heat? It was awful down in that valley. But we didn't want the mature ones, we wanted the little ones because their chitin was much more flexible."

She remembered the flat expanse of rust-colored rock, the tense wait for the slight vibration underfoot, the telltale pebbles bouncing and jumping as the underground worms approached. They had collected ravager parts for bait and strung them up one by one, waiting for the ungrown worms to surface.

"They came shooting out of the ground with their ridiculous too-short legs. And that one that couldn't find its way back underground! They should be grateful we put that one out of its misery. Do you know that was my first assignment back on the job, our first assignment together? I had been out of the game for a while, and you were pretty fresh as well. I admit to having some misgivings about your ability."

The orc leaned her head back against the wall. "Perhaps it doesn't count as a confession if you aren't awake to hear it. You could probably tell, anyway. I don't know if I was particularly friendly to you at the time."

The work had gone surprisingly easily. The wormlings would emerge from the ground, intent on the stinking ravager carcasses, only to find themselves snared in a continuously tightening trap. It was easy work for the orc to step in and end their suffering.

"I was very impressed by those traps you custom-made. I guess you developed that talent when you were still a hunter. Those traps made me reconsider my opinion of you. It made me think we might work well together."

They had been preparing the corpses, removing the chitin and gathering the remains for disposal when the real rumbling had begun.

"I had thought we were getting off lucky, but it never seems to work out that way for us, does it?" The orc shook her head, a half-smile on her face. "When that adult Crust Burster found us I thought I might have to sacrifice you to escape." She paused and looked guiltily at the tauren. "Kidding. Anyway, it was quick thinking on your part to toss all the leftover ravager parts away. I was still torn between all the chitin I was holding and the axe at my belt!" She shook her head again. "When I finally came to my senses you already had the wyvern ready to go, and we got away with most of the loot. I remember thinking, 'I have to work harder so he doesn't have to come to my rescue.' That's when I knew I wanted to work together again."

The room fell silent. There was no change in the tauren's breathing. Hesitantly, the orc smoothed the mane on her friend's forehead and stood.

"Spirits be with you," she said gruffly. She didn't look back as she left the darkened room.

Healing Rotation

"So how is Had doing?" After the thorough dressing down a few days prior, Katza had dropped by Akabeko's workshop under the guise of checking up on the new recruit.

Akabeko appreciated that her raid leader at least attempted to hide her snooping into the druid's extracurricular activities. Besides, she would have an airtight alibi when it was actually time for the plan to be put into action. "He's doing fantastic. He has incredible potential and learns very quickly. Just don't tell him that - it hinders the teaching process."

"That's very old school of you," Katza remarked. She casually glanced at the ledger on the desk. There were, of course, no incriminating scribbles. "When do you suppose he will be ready to join a raid?"

The workshop bell began ringing frantically. Akabeko leaped to answer the door, Katza trailing behind.  "Probably by the time something crops up that actually requires a raid," she muttered wryly.

The door opened to reveal an unusually short troll woman in Cenarion Circle livery. Without preamble, she handed Akabeko a sheet of bright red parchment. "Urgent summons," she said unnecessarily. "Report at once." With a nod, she turned away, already on the way to the next recipient.

"Odd," Akabeko murmured, scanning the page. "This summons is for the Orgrimmar center."

Katza attempted to peek over Akabeko's much taller shoulder. "Is this from the healing rotation?"

Akabeko rummaged in the cabinet by the door, finally pulling out a patched backpack. She ushered Katza outside, locked the door, and strode off through the Drag. "Yes, and this is extremely serious. There's usually some warning, and we are typically summoned to the Moonglade." She folded the parchment and slipped it into the front pocket of her backpack. "Listen, does Had look familiar to you? I keep getting the feeling that I've seen him somewhere before."

"Familiar? Not that I know of. Maybe you saw him at some druid gathering or other?"

"Oh, that's probably it," Akabeko huffed irritably. "Sometimes he quirks his mouth a certain way, or gets this really intense look..." She gestured helplessly. "He probably used to work in my favorite tavern and that's why I recognize him."

Katza shrugged, and they continued on in silence. The Cenarion hospital was just coming into view across the pond in the Valley of Wisdom. "Have you tried to teach him how to reach Tree of Life?" she asked abruptly.

The druid missed a step, catching herself ungracefully. Her carefully neutral expression managed to be more morose than a frown. "I haven't. If he's going to learn, it will have to be from a druid more powerful than me. I don't even try to reach it myself anymore."

They stopped outside the hospital. Katza opened her mouth as if to offer some consolation.

"I have to get in there," Akabeko said quickly. "I'll see you around."

Inside, she fished out the parchment and handed it to an assistant. She was immediately summoned by a full-time healer, who whisked her down a hallway. They were soon joined by Hadakha and a troll Akabeko didn't recognize. She nodded to her guildmate.

The healer sized up the pair appreciatively. "The patient was just ported in this morning. He's a leatherworker and was badly mauled while working in the field. There weren't enough experienced healers in the Moonglade, so they decided to send him here. We weren't sure he would survive the transporting." The tauren paused and shook his head. "Frankly, I'm not sure how long he will survive. We will need every available healer."

He pushed open the door to one of the patient rooms. Inside, three druids were standing around a pallet, constantly casting healing spells on the still mass of the injured tauren. The fur along the bridge of Akabeko's nose stood on end in response to the healing energy clouding the room. She half-expected leaves to spontaneously sprout from the tips of her ears.

The other druids barely glanced up when the newcomers joined them. The healer retreated to the door. "Once we get enough healers, we'll set up rotations to allow you to rest. Thank you for your service."

It was crowded in the small room, but the soft hum of healing energy was relaxing. Akabeko settled in beside Hadakha and delved into the unnaturally still form on the pallet. The severity of the wounds made her stomach clench, and she understood the urgency of the summons. Hadakha would get a trial by fire. She began to cast.

The Leatherworkers [The Cenarion Circle's Request]

The tauren dropped a sheaf of papers on the orc's desk, where she sat inspecting the seams of a junior leatherworker's practice tunic. Her eyes flicked to the papers, then to her companion's face.

"The patterns for that Cenarion Circle request are in," he said by way of explanation.

The orc unrolled the documents with interest. She was silent for a few minutes while she shuffled back and forth between the proposed designs. The tauren moved to look over her shoulder.

"This one here isn't bad," she said, choosing one of the designs from the pile.

The tauren grinned. "That one was my favorite, too."

The orc ran her finger down the list of specifications contemplatively. "Of course it would have to be feathers," she muttered.

"Well, it is for a flying contingent."

"Yes, the Cenarion Circle Regiment of Emissaries and Messengers. That name will never stick." She stood and headed for the back room, where there was a compendium of materials for traditional druid leathers.

The tauren trailed after her. "I expected them to call it a "flock" or something, seeing as it's for flying druids..." He was rewarded with an appreciative laugh.

The orc flipped through the encyclopedia detailing the different types of birds and feathers available to them. She checked two references, jotted down some information on a small notepad she kept on her belt, and rifled around for some blank parchment and a quill.

"As I suspected, the only feathers really appropriate for this kind of design are protected by the Circle. We'll have to apply for access to them."

The tauren nodded. "It always works out like that. You'd think they would just bring us the permits already filled out!"

"That," she replied sarcastically, "would not be the proper bureaucratic method." She set up the model form along with a blank sheet of parchment and writing utensils on the desk in the corner. "You write it; your handwriting is better than mine."

He took the quill from her without complaint and began to copy the oft-used application. While he wrote, the orc hunted in the desk drawers for their leatherworkers' guild seal.

"Kodohide Leatherworkers formally requests access to Frayfeather Hippogryphs, currently under protection of the Cenarion Circle. Materials harvested include but are not limited to feathers, hide, talons, beaks. Said materials will be used solely in construction of Cenarion gear as per details outlined in Regiment of Emissaries and Messengers Uniform Update commissioned by..." The tauren looked around for the original request form. "Ah yes, Hadakha Treewalker, of the Cenarion Circle. Kodohide Leatherworkers vows to treat all beast sacrifices with the greatest of care and respect as outlined in the Approaching Nature handbook." He re-inked the quill and filled in the details and specifications of the gear design and the expected hippogryph toll. Then, below the typical druid greeting, he penned his and the orc's names.

After he signed his name, the orc signed hers, cast drying powder over the parchment, and folded the document into the envelope she had prepared. Then, she dripped a blob of melted wax onto the envelope and stamped it with their official seal.

The wait wasn't long. In as much time as it took for a carrier pigeon to wing its way to the Moonglade and back, the orc was opening a document proclaiming "This permit hereby authorizes Kodohide Leatherworkers access to Frayfeather Hippogryphs for use in Cenarion Circle leathers as detailed in the aforementioned commission until such time as the armor request has been fulfilled." It was signed and sealed by the Archdruid in charge of the Cenarion Armory.

Not long after, the leatherworkers were hacking their way through the thick undergrowth of Feralas, permit tucked safely in their bags. They had spent the past few days hunting hippogryphs and were nearing their quota for materials.

"I'm just saying, maybe they're going extinct because they walk into traps so easily," the tauren mused, disentangling a limp body from the final trap they had set. The orc snorted and began to truss the body for transport back to their camp where the rest of the carcasses were stored.

"Maybe being protected and without predators for so long has made them evolve to be less vigilant," the orc suggested. She brushed sweat from her eyes and wiped it on her leggings.

The tauren hummed. "I don't think evolution happens that quickly..." He was interrupted by a sudden screech and flurry of wings, and in the next instant was toppled over by an enormous stormcrow furiously scrabbling at his eyes. With a startled shout, the tauren managed to thrust the bird away from him.

Snarling, the orc was already rushing towards her companion, blood pounding in her ears and axe raised in a charge. A sudden flash of moonfire blinded her, and when the spots in her vision cleared, a dire bear was advancing on the tauren. She immediately dropped her axe and clawed at the armband on her wrist.

"Wait! Stop!" she shouted, waving the armband. The embroidery depicted the Cenarion Circle's crest and should have identified her as a Circle delegate to any experienced druid.

The dire bear ignored her, charging the tauren and swatting him with a mighty paw that made even him look small. He flew through the air, sliding to a stop against a moss-covered rock.

In battle, a comrade falling was something that simply couldn't be helped. The grunt charging beside you might collapse with an arrow through his eye, the commander next to you might be dragged off her worg with a polearm. A trained warrior simply kept fighting until the battle was finished and there was time to attend the injured and dying.

Not so in this case. The orc felt the all-consuming bloodlust claw up her throat. Scooping up her axe, she placed herself between the druid and the tauren and struggled to dredge up the few words of Darnassian she knew.

"Druid!" she bellowed, brandishing the armband alongside her weapon. "Cenarion! Leather!"

With a gasp, the dire bear shimmered into a willowy night elf wearing a Cenarion Circle patrol tabard. He held up his hands in defense. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't see, I thought you were," he stammered in Common.

The orc barely heard him over the roaring in her head and the uncontrollable snarls coming from her mouth. "Heal! Help!" she shouted, gesturing to the still form of her partner.

The druid began nodding, eyes massive. "Yes, of course, I'll bring help-"

The orc charged, fangs bared, "RUN!"

With a squeak, the druid took flight, narrowly missing the swing of her axe. As he swooped away through the treetops, her enraged howl followed him.

Now alone in the woods, the orc threw her weapon down, cleaving deep into the soil. Still quivering with bloodlust, she stalked to the nearest boulder, hefted it to her shoulder with a grunt, and heaved it as hard as she could. It sailed through the underbrush, leaving a damp trail of crushed plants. The orc screamed at its wake.

Feeling slightly calmer, she turned and rushed to her fallen companion's side. With steady fingers she pressed a clean handkerchief to the oozing wound marring his face. He smelled singed where the moonfire had struck his mane. There were long gouges around his eyes, and blood matted his head and shoulders. The orc said nothing, simply keeping pressure on the wound and gently feeling for broken bones. All she could do was wait.

The Leatherworkers [Tier 9]

From the drag came the constant drone of cicadas punctuated with shrieks of laughter from the orphans watching Midsummer torch jugglers. Inside the shop, the air was still and heavy, and the leatherworkers themselves even more so.

Most were working, or at least attempting to. The tauren, however, had finally succumbed to lethargy and was snoring softly over his pile of unfinished bracers.

"You don't even feel the cold, do you?" the orc asked, voice muffled by the thick, furred helm covering her face. 

The tauren shrugged. "I've got a permanent fur coat keeping me warm."

His partner nodded and slapped her hands together a few times before reaching for their supply bags. "Let's get this over with. At least Dalaran is moderately warm compared to here." 

They began to chisel sheets of ice from the cliff wall. The tauren tried not to look over his shoulder. "This place gives me the creeps. I feel like I'm being watched." 

The orc studiously ignored the enormous frost giant at their back. Tiny dwarves dotted its shoulders. "They're all frozen. Completely harmless." A strong gust of wind whistled through the crystalline figures, making the orc curse.

Carefully, the orc reached out towards the tauren. The other leatherworkers watched with interest as she balanced something on his snout. They snickered when she withdrew her arm without incident.

The Sons of Hodir had agreed to help the leatherworkers after successful negotiations with the Cenarion Circle and more than one exchange of heavy purses. Now the pair sat in the expansive workshop of Dun Niffelem, adhering the carved ice sheets to pauldrons made of wooly rhino hide. The work was monotonous, and the tauren almost didn't notice when the orc snapped the last ring into place and stepped back.

"Time to get the big guy to work his magic," she said, rolling her neck.

The frost giant used a special technique to permanently freeze and fuse the components together. The ice sheets would remain frozen, impervious to any weather, making the thick hide lining indispensable. Unfortunately, the process was too cold for the leatherworkers to even watch. They retreated to another room.

"The waiting is the worst part," the tauren complained. "I'm so bored." He settled himself on a bench and leaned against the wall with a yawn. 

The orc rolled her eyes behind the orange glass of her goggles. "I'll agree that it's the worst, but at least you're warm while you wait." She didn't bother to sit, but instead headed straight for the door. "I'm going to hover around the forge."

The tauren's eyes were already drifting shut. He grunted wordlessly at her back.

A sudden snort cut through the barely suppressed chuckling in the room. The tauren opened his eyes and sat up straight, blinking owlishly as he gathered his senses. He looked at the orc next to him, who gazed back as if nothing were amiss.

"I was so bored that I fell asleep in my dream," he told her. The movement caused the perfectly balanced stack of jump rings on his snout to cascade down his front. "What the...?" He looked from the orc to the others in the room. They dissolved into guffaws.

The New Recruit (guest post!)

You guys, I have amazing friends. Anytime someone is like "people you know on the internet totes aren't really friends" you smack 'em and show 'em the posts and post ideas I've gotten from my guildie buddies. Like this week! Here I am flipping my shit over visa paperwork and my friend Dah comes up with some lovely guest posts about his tauren toons to help me out. And you had better hope this becomes a regular thing because THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME. (Previously from Dah: Dahakha's Finale)

~~~~~

Hadakha nodded to the tauren as he brushed aside the curtain covering the doorway. The sounds of Orgrimmar faded a little as the heavy hide fell back into place. The tauren grimaced, pushed himself to his feet and tugged a rope near his workbench. A soft chime sounded above, on the upper level of the building, and a moment later footsteps clumped down the ramp. The orc checked herself as she caught sight of Hadakha, then sighed and descended to the floor.

"I don't suppose the Circle has a moderately.....what's the word I'm looking for....uneventful request for us this time?" she asked half-resignedly.

Hadakha gave her a wry grin. "I would never presume to make your lives boring,", he said, "but the fact is that you have proven yourselves to be very resourceful in the past, and as such the Circle has come to rely upon the ingenuity of leatherworkers of your calibre. Of course, since this armour has never been made before, you have complete freedom of design. We are interested only in the results."

"Of course you are..." The orc turned to the tauren. "Well? Once more into the thick of it?" As the tauren grunted his assent she looked sharply at Hadakha. "You have a suitable commission for us, naturally?"

Reaching into his tunic, Hadakha pulled out a large pouch, which he tossed to her. It tinkled as she caught it and passed it to her partner. The tauren spilled out a small pool of gems, perfectly cut and glittering in the light. He met the orc's eyes, and they grinned at each other.

"Here are the Circle's requirements." Hadakha handed over a sheaf of tightly bound scrolls. "Any other concerns?"

The tauren stared at Hadakha's tabard thoughtfully. "That looks familiar.....we had a customer a few weeks ago wearing one. Druid....wanted us to fix some old armour of hers....I thought you were an agent of the Cenarion Circle. Since when have you joined a guild of adventurers?"

"Ah yes, Akabeko mentioned the good work you had done for her. And yes, I am still a representative of the Circle, however I am on a mission that requires my presence in this guild. I can rely on your discretion, I trust." It was not a question.

At their nods, Hadakha gave them a slight bow and turned to leave. "Good hunting", he said as he pulled the hide back and stepped out into the bustle of the city. He did not envy them their work.

SALTY

Finally, after months and months and months of rolling up to one or both of the fishing contests, only to have my ass handed to me after 15 frantic minutes of fishing, I emerge victorious!

Most contests, I would be somewhere in the 32 - 37 Tastyfish range when the winner was announced. One time I actually got all 40 and hearthed to Booty Bay, only to be a split second behind the winner that day. I tried turning off addons, playing with my graphics settings, and engaging in mental acrobatics much like learning how to fly (according to The Hitchhiker's Guide): "It's no good deliberately intending to miss the ground because you won't." You can't go into the contest thinking you'll win. In fact, you must approach it as an unimportant but necessary task and downplay the importance of winning.

For me, it seems the crucial strategy was showing up just barely on time, throwing on my trusty Fishing Hat just before reaching my usual starting point (south of Grom'gol), complaining to a friend about obnoxious pool-sharers and uncharacteristically flying north along the coast, and then proceeding to nerdrage every time my bobber landed just to the side of the actual pool. Finally, I realized that I had only a few fish left and enough pools around me to reach it without traveling too far. Waiting for fish #40, I was practically vibrating in my seat, muttering "come on, come on, come on." It was an Oily Blackmouth. Cue gnashing of teeth and rending of clothes! I cast again, sure that a winner would be announced while I waited for the splash.

Tastyfish!! I hearthed to Booty Bay, promptly ran into the wall, then managed to navigate outside and run/fly to the turn-in. I didn't realize that the rewards had changed (or perhaps I never paid close enough attention to them in the first place), but didn't want to lose any time reading the item descriptions. I got a blue item that apparently turns me into a fish, which ain't half bad! Even better, this was the last achievement I needed to finally be awarded the Salty title!

guildie: Salty Akabeko, coming to a restaurant near you
me: nuuuu D:
guildie: what does Akabeko mean anyway?
me: ...red cow...
guildie: bahaha perfect

I look forward to resetting my hearthstone. Booty Bay was good to me, but I can't be tied down! I look forward to leisurely working on the rest of my fishing endeavors, namely hooking the riding turtle (agghh! Turtles again!) and doing some cross-faction stealth-fishing!

The Leatherworkers [Tier 6]

The sun had just passed its midday peak when the skins across the doorway opened, jingling the tiny bells sewed into the bottom and alerting the leatherworkers in the shop to a customer. Akabeko blinked in the sudden shadow, a bundled set of armor tucked under one arm. An orc seated near the doorway set down her tools and approached the druid. The only other leatherworker in the front room, a wide-set tauren, briefly glanced up from his work.

"What can I help you with?" the orc asked, reaching out for the bundle and taking it to a clear work table.

Akabeko followed her. "Just general upkeep," she explained. "I've been waxing and polishing it myself, but the shoulders especially are starting to show their age."

The orc turned one pauldron over in her hands. The enchantment that made the skull's empty eyesockets glow blue was starting to fade, and the feathers were beginning to look dry and wilted. The orc ran calloused fingers across the dome of the skull, stopping when they met and uncharacteristic notch in the bone just above the left eye. She peered at the dent curiously.

Akabeko noticed her scrutiny. "That's been there since I bought the piece. The armorer told me there's no easy way to mend it, and I've come to like it anyway. It gives it character," she finished with a grin.

The orc grinned back. Her fingers continued to gently worry the mark. "There is no good way to mend it, not without interfering with the unique enchantment on the pauldron. It just surprised me to see it, because I'm the one that put it there."

This caused the so-far silent tauren to look up. "Is it one of ours?" he asked his partner.

The orc held up the piece in question to point out the nick. "Do you remember the first time we hunted kaliri?"

"Ahh, yes," the tauren interrupted. "Our plan was to bait one and lasso it." He laughed. "That was such a terrible idea!"

"Come on, it wasn't that bad. How could you have known it would call so many others to help?"

Akabeko looked back and forth between the pair, listening with interest.

The tauren set down his tools. "I didn't know, but my job is to take the hits while you do the hard work, so I should have done my research to be as safe as possible!"

"I have to admit, when the kaliri screeched and those three others burst out of the trees, I went a little berserk. They all went straight for you, with your hands full of feathers and nothing but a shield!"

"Believe it or not, I was still trying to keep the bodies intact. I stunned the one we caught with my shield before I went after the others."

The orc shook her head. "I wasn't being careful. It's only luck that I took the first pair's heads off instead of anything else. That last one..."

The tauren laughed. "When you jumped over me I thought you might sprout wings and fly away yourself!"

"Yes, well," the orc shrugged sheepishly. "It was in your blind spot. So I smashed it in the face."

Akabeko blinked at her armor with newfound appreciation.

"As you can see," the orc continued conversationally, "we're in an off season and having a slow day. I can have this ready for you by sunset tomorrow."

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Akabeko replied, heading to the door. She nodded at the tauren, who waved a pair of scissors at her, already back at work. "Afternoon!"

The Leatherworkers [Noblegarden]

This year for the Great Blog Noblegarden Egg Hunt, I created a silly 4 panel comic featuring the leatherworkers! It was originally hidden in the "3" of my Tier 3 link, but now gets its own special page. Enjoy!

Darkmoon Faire

The Darkmoon Faire! I love those guys. And by the Earthmother, they sure love me too. I did bring them a whole cartload of cards and card accessories, after all. And now they have a proper carnival - their very own private island to decorate and populate as they like.

The atmosphere borrows heavily from the Tol Barad/Gilneas aesthetic, with and ominous purple filter overlay. The lighting and colors suggest a damp chill clinging to the place, and even at midday it's as dark as twilight. The haunting gloom is well-contrasted with the Faire's cheery strings of fairy lights, torches, and even fire breathers lighting the paths. If you leave the Faire to explore the island, you'll find shipwrecks, decomposing skeletons, woebegone ghosts, and a cook with a penchant for the Most Dangerous Game. Within the Faire, it's all business from the carnies. The brightly lit atmosphere puts an exciting, almost frantic veneer on the sinister undertones of the island, and makes me think that we'll meet a deranged wife in the attic or find out we could see dead people all along.

The monthly profession dailies are extremely satisfying on many levels (although you do need a minimum of 75 skill to see them, which discourages loading up all of your alts with cooking, fishing, and first aid). Only a few require extra materials from the player, and you can easily take the portal back to your home city if you forget to bring them. Then, collect a few items, skin or DE or craft them together, and bam! you get a couple tickets. At 85, the 250 Grisly Trophies can easily be farmed in any number of places if you won't collect them all during your regular activities.

What really bothers me is the daily quests. You have to pay for tokens, and receive only one ticket and no gold in return. Well, all right, that's pretty standard fare for carnivals. In keeping with the "screw the customer" style, most of the games cannot complete their associated dailies in one go. What's even worse is that you can almost finish your quest in the first round, meaning you only really need a few seconds at the beginning of the next. I typically turn in my quest after completing it, which always stops the game time. The NPCs tell me, "Don't stop now! You still have time to play!" Overwhelmingly, my response is no. Why is that? It's not like I'm unfamiliar with painful grinds or dailies that don't have time limits. And even fun dailies like pygmy smacking in Uldum aren't fun enough to keep me whacking after the quest objective is completed. It's just that, with the exception of Whack-a-Gnoll (I play a healer, go fig), my only reason for playing the Faire games is to complete a quest. Having to "queue" for two rounds of a game when I only need one and a half just irks me.

During February's Faire, the Hogger mobs spawned fast and thick, and I was able to complete my daily in one game round. It was incredibly satisfying! In March, they must have slowed the spawn rate because I typically get about 25/30 credits in the first round. In April, there were times I stopped and waited for several seconds for a gnoll, any gnoll to spawn. (BABIES EVERYWHERE) Having to replay just to get the last 5 is an excruciating annoyance. Doing it every day... In this case, I'd like for them to cut back on the spirit of carnivals in favor of being able to finish a quest all in one go. I don't mind the money for the tokens, but I do mind having to redo a game that isn't all that engaging to begin with.

Nowadays, we can join an anonymous collection of strangers and defeat Deathwing with little more than a fart, max out our professions using only vendor goods and quests, and buy mounts lovely enough they could be rare drops with cash money. I think the Darkmoon dailies should be tweaked until you can finish a quest in a single round of play!

[Shared Topic] Rats and Turtles and Pinchy, oh my!

I'm slipping in just under the wire for this week's Blog Azeroth shared topic, suggested by Stringtheory of Perish Twice, who asks:

Fishing is an odd sort of minigame in WoW and people I’ve talked to either love it or hate it. So what’s your take on the most grindy of sports?

There's a lot to like about this topic; for one, the title is evocative of The Wizard of Oz, which was my favorite child movie. Finding the perfect ruby slippers has been one of my lifelong goals. Then there's the fact that it's about fishing, meaning fish, which reminds me of my fishing jig. (Yeah, I sing Strong Bad songs when I'm fishing. I also give pep talks to my eggs when boiling. Are you really surprised?)

Catch this, nerds!

In meatspace, I have zero interest in fishing. When I was a kid my dad used to walk me and my brother down to the nearby pond and try to teach us to fish. Mostly, he would fish while T and I threw bread crumbs at the alligators that came to investigate our activities. ("Ok, so you hold the pole like this and wait for the fish to bite!" "DAD!! I hit that one right in the nostril!") We never caught any fish.

WoW fishing is mostly a means to an end. The end of course being achievements, or more importantly, loot. I love my fishing pets! I get just as excited about them as I do any other rare or highly coveted drop. Fishing with a goal, be it to catch a rare fish or stock up on cooking mats, is the only way I can get myself to fish for any extended period of time. It can be nice to crank up a podcast or my sweet karaoke playlist and while away the time, but fishing is a slightly more annoying sort of grind in my opinion. When you are camping something, you can basically set up shop, turn up all the sounds, and walk away from the computer. When you are grinding something, you have to move around either looting or killing, so you are always doing something. Fishing is the worst kind of wait, where you have to actually pay attention, but aren't always doing something. Mostly you're watching the bobber and waiting for it to move, and hoping that your stupid ears pick up the sound before the cast ends. Then there's the maddening dance to get your bobber to land in the stupid pool! You'd think they would have worked out some sort of targeting system that makes your cast gravitate towards the pool, rather than cast about willy nilly like you've got all the time in the world to cast 5, 6, 7 times until you finally land the pool. Akabeko has maxed fishing and a sweet fishing-buff pole; why can't she hit the damn pool on the first try? DO I NEED TO BE HITCAPPED FOR THIS?!

Ok rant's done, time for silly photos.

You look kinda tasty...

Oh Mr. Pinchy! You taste so good with butter!

Chuck is making friends with this wild pinchy

I found you, elusive Summer Bass!

I'll always love Sholazar

The Leatherworkers [Tier 3]

"All right, so just as the gear was changing, I quit my job as a leatherworker. Since I had been rehabilitated, I was eager to get back to my original profession." The orc held up a finger to stave off any protest from her companion. "Yes, yes, I know this has absolutely nothing to do with gathering."

The tauren obediently closed his mouth. The orc quirked an eyebrow at him and took a sip of her drink before continuing.

"The Horde assault on Naxxramas had just begun. I applied to rejoin my old battalion, and as soon as they proved I could swing an axe and take a hit, they sent me off to the front lines. I was expecting complete madness, and I got it. My battalion was commanded by a troll who had already been into Naxxramas several times. He led us against the patchwork creatures in the Construct Quarter, and it was horrible."

The orc paused to drink and swallow. She used the condensation from her glass to draw a tiny picture on the bar, then smeared it out.

"There were undead...scientists in that quarter. They scavenged body parts to create bodies for the souls they had harvested. There were big constructs, taller than three orcs stacked on each others shoulders, but they were big and slow and hard to create. The little ghouls, however..." she scrubbed a hand across her head. "Sometimes patrols would go missing. Or we would lose a comrade in a skirmish. If we - if you didn't recover the body, the scientists would. And then they could use it for parts. So we had to collect the dead, even the ghouls' bodies, and burn them. Otherwise, you'd find yourself fighting a familiar face attached to a mishmash of decaying limbs. The fresher the construct, the more  familiar they sounded."

The tauren shifted uncomfortably and licked his lips. The fur on the back of his neck was standing on end.

Lost in her own recollection, the orc didn't notice. "But the worst part was the sound. The big constructs, you see, were made out of regular bodies. They just took more parts to make. And some of the bodies were still alive and aware when they were sewn in. They knew what was happening. So they screamed. Whatever magic kept them alive kept them from needing food or sleep. They didn't have to do anything but scream or cry or beg for death. And we could always hear their voices echoing in the halls."

Her eyes lost focus and her voice dropped. Now the story was mostly for herself. "Our captain had been there a long time. He hadn't gotten a break from the voices. So one night, when I was on watch duty, he snapped. Started screaming about how he wouldn't let us fall prey to the monsters. He grabbed his axe and set upon the sleeping soldiers. Everyone woke up. The guards all ran, but I got there first. I stopped him."

She rubbed the back of her hand across her dry lips. "There were multiple witnesses, so I was convicted of no crime. They understood; there had been similar incidents. I was honorably discharged and received valor commendations." The orc drew the chain around her neck out of her shirt, revealing a signet ring and two thick medals. "For being wounded in combat," she indicated one medal, "for valor," the other medal, "and for loyal service to the Horde," the ring. The tauren admired each in turn.

Suddenly the orc laughed, breaking the oppressive mood. "I apologize for telling you all that. I'm afraid I'm a maudlin drinking partner."

"Not at all," the tauren protested. "Never in all my days have I seen anything like that."

"But, you're still wondering about the point of the story, aren't you?" He tried too hard to appear nonchalant and gave his curiosity away. "Don't worry; this is the good part. Since I had left the military, I returned to leatherworking. The top-end gear was being crafted to specifically combat the creatures in Naxxramas, and the crafters wanted leather from the source! I still had some interest in seeing everything in that hellhole dead, so I volunteered to lead a team of  gatherers. They were happy to have a veteran at the head. I got clearance from the Horde War Generals to harvest leather from the creatures in the Arachnid Quarter. I didn't want to risk the Construct Quarter again. We followed behind and orc company, sometimes harvesting leather from their kills, sometimes helping in the battle. The leatherworkers with me were very skilled, and our only casualties were unavoidable. Our campaign lasted nearly a month before we had scared up enough spiders to meet our leather quota, and then we returned to Orgrimmar to deliver, collect our pay,and wait for our next turn in the rotation. My old master said he was glad to have me back in his shop, and I think I was, too."

The tauren grunted. "Now that was a satisfying story."

Happy Valentine's Day!

I hope everyone is enjoying their ultra pink day of love in whatever capacity you chose! I spent the better part of Sunday with a friend baking up a storm. (We decided against the more typical Japanese method of "melt chocolate, reform it into other still-chocolate shapes, plus sprinkles" for valentine production.) She made caramel thumbprint cookies and a so-so Martha Stewart version of thin mints, and I made the Lunar Festival Pies created by The Gamer's Fridge! Even better is there were minimal oven-related casualties!

batter!

baked!

frosted!

sandwich'd!

CONSUMED!

bonus caramel coconut cookies

and pseudo thin mints!

If you're looking for something sweet to eat, I highly recommend whipping up a batch of the Lunar Festival Pies. They are super easy to make, bake really quickly, and the frosting recipe is the PERFECT amount for the cookies, so you don't have any pesky leftovers! And they are delicious!!

The Leatherworkers [Tier 2]

The orc slid back onto her stool and reached for her fresh drink. The tauren was already working on his. "Where were we?" she asked into her tankard.

"How you went from delicate quilter to the shrewdest gatherer I've ever met." He pantomimed a gentle sewing motion, then changed it into violently bludgeoning something. The orc could easily imagine any number of somethings.

She belched, patted her chest, and took another sip. "Right, well, just as the fashionable gear was changing, I was ready for physical therapy to get my legs back into working order. I spent my mornings relearning to stand, then hobbled over to the shop to work. The good thing about the job was that I could make comfortable padding for my crutches out of scraps."

The tauren hummed in amusement. It was hard to imagine the orc next to him as even remotely incapacitated. Even though he knew her extremely well after working closely with her for so long, this was still an aspect about her he couldn't quite comprehend. In ill weather, in dangerous situations, and even in pain, she didn't seek comfort. He was always trying to be stronger, just to measure up.

"At first, it was very slow going," the orc continued, unaware of her companions brew-fueled ruminations. "The therapy was so exhausting that I had to sit afterwards, so I was at first tasked with sewing layers of those eternal enchanted leaves on to the robe. At least I had seniority over newer apprentices, so I didn't have to go back to fitting the base armor. Or worse, embroidery." They both grimaced. "That gear was covered in crescent-shaped embroidery, which had to be done at twilight, or just before dawn, or the spelled thread would...react. One of the newbies lost a knuckle from his little finger!"

"Yikes!" the tauren said sympathetically. "I never had to do much needlework," he confided. "I was too clumsy, and my technique was messy, and they usually set me to tanning hides instead."

"Ugh, my least favorite activity."

"Agreed. But when did you become a gatherer?"

The orc laughed. "Hold your kodos; I'm getting there. I got to a point where I could stand and move around for a while, so they moved me on to other work. The gear at the time had these huge antlers and even bigger claws. I would have loved to be on the team that went hunting those beasts. But for me, they set me to...polishing. I polished antlers as wide as my arms and claws as big around as my fists!" She closed her hand for reference, and the tauren looked impressed.

"Those must have been fierce hunts indeed! But you didn't go hunting for them, right? When did you join the hunting team?"

She snorted. "Here I am telling you my life story, and all you care about is how I got my current job? Talk about a one-track mind!"

The tauren looked apologetic. "No, it's not that I don't care about the rest! But you told me when we first met that you were a warrior, and then you became a gatherer for leatherworking materials. So far you've only told me about limping around and sewing leaves to hide!"

"Well, it's a long story!" the orc huffed out irritably.

Lunar Festival: Our City's Great Triumph

新年快樂! Happy Lunar New Year! I hope you're ready for some serious partying. On Earth, we want "out with the old and in with the new," whereas in Azeroth, revelers celebrate "their triumph of many thousands of years ago, when an alliance of good races defeated a terrible evil called the Burning Legion!" The Lunar Festival runs from January 22 to February 11 this year, coinciding with its inspiring holidays, the Lunar New Year and Lantern Festival.

This new year celebration occurs in either January or February and is based on the phases of the moon. The lunar calendar is made up of 29.5 day months, and is 11 days shorter than the 365 day calendar. This is paired with the Chinese solar calendar, which is divided into 24 different segments or climates and focuses on how seasonal changes affect agricultural activity.

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In preparation for the new year, people begin cleaning and throwing out old things in mid-December - rather than spring cleaning, this massive undertaking occurs in winter. Decorations such as prints of poetry, door gods, and other popular auspicious imagery are displayed along with the characters for "spring" (春) and "fortune" (福). These characters may be hung upside-down, as the word for "inverted" is a homonym for "arrive." The many homonyms in Chinese make for lots of word association - more on that in later sections! As it is considered unlucky to use a cooking fire during the new year, families will prepare the meal beforehand. They will also decorate the household altar with oranges, spring rice, flowers, and New Year cake as a fresh offering for gods returning to Earth.

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The New Year's Eve meal features many foods that are either linguistically or physically auspicious. Vegetables, chicken, clams, fish/shrimp/meatballs, and dumplings are common staples. Fish, being a homonym for surplus, is often present but not eaten, or at least finished. It wouldn't do to eat all of the coming year's surplus in one night! Families gather to share this important meal, and places are set for those who cannot attend. Typically, a married couple will spend this day with the husband's family and visit the wife's family on the second or third day of the new year. Staying up all night talking signifies long life for older relatives, and as such this evening is also called Longevity Night.

While Earthlings are honoring their familial ancestors, Azerothians are paying their respects to the night elf, tauren, taunka, and earthen warriors who fought against the Burning Legion. The main celebration takes place in Moonglade, and players can get a free teleport there from the introductory quest. Although this holiday is time-consuming in-game, it's extremely straight-forward. Players can shoot off fireworks, buy a plethora of firework and tailoring patterns, defeat a seasonal world boss, and visit every last Elder on the planet. The initial quests reward Cenarion Circle reputation, but visiting the Elders will give you faction reputation and the holiday currency Coin of Ancestry.

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Eight hours after visiting an Elder, they will mail you a Lucky Red Envelope. In addition to clogging your mailbox, these may contain either an Elder's Moonstone or a Lucky Rocket Cluster. Since the dearly departed don't typically send letters on Earth, married couples and older relatives give red packets containing even amounts of coins or bills to children and unmarried adults on New Year's Day. If someone requests a red packet, it's bad luck not to give one. There are even some kids and teens who use the joke greeting "Congratulations and be prosperous, now give me a red envelope!"

The New Year lasts for 15 days, finally culminating in the Lantern Festival which is sometimes called the "second new year." The first day of the new moon is for being together with family, honoring one's ancestors, and welcoming the gods back to Earth. The second day is for prayer, to ancestors and gods alike. On the third and fourth days, families visit the wife's home. The fifth day is for staying inside, as it's bad luck to venture out. It's also the day to welcome the God of Wealth. During the sixth through twelfth days, people visit friends, families, and temples. When visiting, it's important to bring a small gift for the host, and the host should reciprocate with sweets for their guest. Businesses should be open by this time. The thirteenth day is for a simple meal of congee and mustard greens, and the fourteenth is for preparing for the upcoming Lantern Festival.

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Finally, the fifteenth day is for parades and dragon dances, in addition to spectacular fireworks and lantern festivals. Annual events include the Taipei Lantern Festival, the Tainan Yanshui Fireworks Display, and the Taipei Pinghsi Sky Lanterns. Temples display lanterns with paintings of birds, famous historical figures, and legends. Some lanterns feature riddles for observers to puzzle out. Lanterns are carried, floated on water, and released into the sky. Noisy fireworks are released late into the night, although the explosives have caused enough physical and property damage to warrant firecracker bans. Players can drop 70 Coins of Ancestry on a faction-specific Festival or Lunar Lantern of their very own, but be prepared to spend some serious gold to get the other faction's off of the auction house!

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Players can purchase Festival Dumplings, the in-game equivalent of the special tang yuan dumplings eaten during the Lantern Festival, for 1 Coin of Ancestry. The vendor also sells festive clothing, a fireworks pack, and Elune's Candle. It's common for people to buy new clothes and shoes, or get a haircut in order to ring in the new year right, so be sure to pick up a Festival Dress or Suit! These are based on the cheongsam and what appears to be a tang jacket and pants. If you really want to dress the part, be sure to have a tailor make you the lucky red version. Elune's Candle has 88 charges, as the number 8 is lucky, due to being a homonym of "prosperity."

You can bring your bedecked self to Stormwind, Thunderbluff, Booty Bay, or Moonglade on New Year's Day to enjoy holiday celebrations, or wait for the big event at Lake Elune'ara on the last day. In addition to fireworks, players should notice even more lanterns on display for this event. Before then, high level players should do their part to put Omen back to rest. Once a demi-god blessed by Elune, Omen was injured in the fight against the Burning Legion. Although he once wandered Azeroth, offering help, luck, and advice to those he encountered, he was driven mad by fel nightmares and went on a murderous rampage. He was blinded and bound by moonlight in the town of Nighthaven, and each year wakes again to terrorize Moonglade. Defeating him will reward the player with Elune's Lantern, which can be used to make Elune Stones all year round.

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Omen is based on the legendary monster known as Nian. (In the Chinese version of WoW, the NPC is simply called Nian.) A ferocious creature with the body of a bull and the head of a lion, Nian came down from the mountains to raid villages for food in the thin winter months. One day, an old man suggested that they use loud noises, fire, and the bright color red to scare Nian away from their village. The next time Nian came to devour the villagers, they assaulted him with loud firecrackers, burning bonfires, and scarlet papers hung on the buildings. In some stories, Nian is simply chased away, while in others the old man reveals himself to be a deity and claims Nian as his mount. (Sadly, players cannot do the same.)

There are 17 current achievements for a total of 190 achievement points in this holiday. The meta achievement rewards the title "Elder" and counts towards What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been. You can find a guide to completing all of the elders quests here at WoW Insider, and Wowhead's holiday guide here.