Roleplaying, Warcraft

Kitsunecho’s Story: Wanderer Returns

This was originally written as a post on the Moonglade forums, but idiot me (knowing how sucky their forums are) forgot to copy it to a text file before submitting, and it was eaten. *sigh*

Kitsune tossed her dusty bags and travelling gear into a heap in the corner. She was exhausted and filthy from the long journey, and looking forward to a bath and a nap, not necessarily in that order. The inn was plain and the room small, but everything was clean and the bed looked like heaven.

From behind her she heard a surreptitious creak of bedsprings, and turning around she saw her huge black armored boar, Ennui, trying to look inconspicuous in the middle of the bed.

“Hey, fleabag! Get your fat self off that bed!” Ennui heaved a deep sigh, and closed his eyes. “Ah, well…move your great arse over, and make room.” She flopped on the bed next to the boar, and he happily rolled over onto his back so that she could scratch his stomach. Kit noticed that she had dried blood rimming each fingernail, and there was a distinct odor that she honestly couldn’t claim was boar. She needed a bath.

There was a mirror hanging over the cracked clothes chest, and she stood for a moment looking into it. Used to seeing her reflection in water, if at all, she flinched a bit as she studied her scarred face. There was more extensive scarring on her back, and around her wrists, but usually that was covered up by mail. Her face felt so exposed.

Ah, well – she’d never been a beauty, and having been imprisoned in Grom Hellscream’s hellhole for so long hadn’t improved her looks. As a young druid in training in Ashenvale, she’d been looking forward to her initiation ceremony and tattoos, but then the orcs had swept in and changed all of that. Her parents were some of the first to go down before the onslaught…so much lost, so much time, so much changed.

But anyway…what was needed was a pint or five of strong dwarven ale. She quickly washed, rebraided her long white hair, and stripped off the blood-spattered outer armor. It was easier, she reflected, to face a room full of demons and undead than to walk downstairs into a crowded tavern and try to start up a conversation, and make some friends.

Thats’ why she was here, after all…the long years of solitude in the autumn woods of Azshara had done a lot of healing, and she was almost ready to rejoin the world.

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