[WoW Fanfiction] You don't want to know where else the mud is.

“Maurata, what are we even doing here?” Rhasody asked as she got tired of standing on a hillock in the middle of a Bloodtroll infested swamp. If the chance of being mobbed by trolls wasn’t enough, the place had a thousand bugs that could bite through fur, smelled like something a year dead and occasionally had a weird howling yelp that sounded and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to meet the originator of the noise.

“Looking for new ingredients to make yummy things with.” Maurata replied patiently. She was crouched over a green, leafed thing, that looked like all the other green, leafed, things. She felt like she’d explained this a few times. It wasn’t like Rhas had to come!

“You said that an hour ago, we’ve been here for an hour while you look at the same plants over and over.” Rhasody griped. Not quite true, Maurata had moved at least seven steps from one clump of plants to another.

Maurata sighed and rolled her eyes, “Flit’s having fun!” she gestured towards Rhasody’s pet mana ray.

Flit was diving in and out of the swamp water and making happy chirping noises. It had been a long time since he’d been in a swamp so similar to his home. The little swamp bath that Maurata had made him in their home was nice, but it didn’t compare.

“Yes, I’m trying not to think of the smell.” Rhasody grumbled. Bathing a mana ray who thought splashing and flying was a great combination left a lot to be desired.

“Oh lighten up.” Maurata teased, standing up to tweak Rhas’ ear. “Here we are, brave new world --”

“Horrible carnivorous new monsters.” muttered Rhasody.

“-- pretty new scenery, nice new friends --” continued Maurata, ignoring the hunter.

“Who only probably want to eat us.” grumbled Rhasody.

“-- all sorts of yummy new foods and ingredients --”

“That are probably poisonous.”

“-- And new healers to learn from!” Maurata finished, facing her lover,  hands on her hips attempting to look fierce.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. Though, their druid forms are just weird.”

“Oh for biscuit’s sake!” Mauratasaid, exasperated. “You complain buckets have holes!”

Rhasody blinked at that, even Flit stopped mid-dive to chirp at her. Neither Pandaren were quite sure how smart the mana ray was.  “Uhm..”

“IN THE TOP! THE BUCKET IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE A HOLE!” Maurata threw her hands up. Flit chirred at her.

“Are you okay?” Rhasody asked.

Maurata ran a hand through her hair. “Fine.. fine.. Let’s go find a local expert. You’re right, all these plans are very similar.”

Rhasody had the good grace not to smirk. As the two women turned to walk back to the camp of Tortollan they’d passed earlier she lightly elbowed Maurata in the ribs. “I didn’t even get to complain about the mud between my toes.”

“It is kind of gross.” Maurata agreed.

“Its MOVING. Even when I’m standing still, the mud MOVES.” Rhasody griped good naturedly. “And I bet if we asked one of the Zandalari about it, they’d be all like ‘The loa move in mysterious ways, mon.”

Maurata shook her head, “I think you’re confusing a Lorekeeper with a Troll.”

“Nono, one has soothing tea the other has “mystic” tea.” Rhasody even made the air quotes.

Maurate snickered. “I know a sourpuss who could use a little mystic tea.”

Rhasody looked at her with wide-eyed innocence. “Flit! Do you need mystic tea?” she asked her pet.

Flit flitted over and accepted a head scritch from Rhasody with a chirring-purr.

“I think he’s fine.” Rhasody said with a smile.

“You’re impossible!” Maurata declared as they scrambled over some fallen bricks to gain entrance to the camp. Sure, they could have gone around, but there was more mud that way.

“No, just improbable.” Rhasody corrected. She made a beeline for the nearest bench and started scraping mud off her feet. “So what’s for dinner?”

“What’s for..” Maurata threw her hands up in the air.

The next thing Rhasody knew was that she had a ball of water explode against her shoulder and splash up into her face. “What the..?” She looked up to see the water shaman, healer extraordinaire, readying another globe of water.

“Bitch and complain all day, insist on following me on the ingredient hunt anyway, and then ask me what I’m cooking you for dinner?!” She threw the ball with another splash.

Rhasody spluttered. “You don’t like my cooking!”

“You think two ingredient recipes are good ideas!” Another ball of water, another splash.

Rhasody gurgled and shook her head, sending water spray from her fur. “It was ONE TIME!” she defended herself as the Tortollan looked on with amusement. Obviously a story in the making. “And we were UNDER FIRE by some very angry ogres!”

“That’s no excuse for bad food!” Maurata replied, throwing two balls of water. "Spices aren't optional!" Splash, splash.

“Oh that’s it!” Rhasody declared, grabbing a nearby bucket. “I’ll replace this.” she told the nearest Tortollan who just blinked slowly at her. She then threw the contents in a geat arc straight towards Maurata.

Maurata was no one’s fool and she dodged to one side and redirected the stream of water.

“Oh shit.” Rhasody said.

Maurata turned and saw where the water had gone -- face first into a rather irritated looking Draenei. She took a step back, “Er..” She didn’t really want to join the battles between Horde and Alliance that both Panderan had been avoiding.

The Draenei looked down at her soaking wet self. Her eyes narrowed as Rhasody dashed across the clearing and grabbed Maurata’s hand. “Run.”

Maurata didn’t feel like arguing since the Draenei was making some very sweeping gestures and she could feel the elements starting to answer the dripping woman.

The two had made it perhaps half a dozen steps before a large pool of water formed overhead and a deluge of rain opened over their heads and half-drowned them both.

“Ha!” said the Draenei who then turned on her hoof and squelched off, tail lashing. She muttered in common, probably very impolite things about playful pandaren and innocent bystanders.

Rhasody sneezed.

Maurata attempted to wring out her shirt.

“So. Dinner?” Rhasody asked.

Maurata smacked the back of Rhas’ head.

[WoW FanFiction] A force to be reckoned with.

With the cold war turned fiery hot, things were uneasy among the clean-up crews across the broken shore. Most of the orcs had been pulled back to Orgrimmar but a few had been left behind to keep an eye on the elves and druids of Val’sharah. Living beside Gilneans wasn’t easy but Hauruk was trying his best. His best rather frazzled when he opened his hut’s door to find a goblin ear pinned there with a knife. Damn dogs!

He grabbed the knife, letting the ear fall to the ground. Enough was enough! It was time to show those alliance apologists who was chief of these forests and he knew exactly who to tell! The problem was, however, when he arrived at the village the mayor and his posse were nowhere to be seen.

As Hauruk turned, growling under his breath, an elderly woman somehow snuck up on his and poked his shoulder with a boney finger. “YOU!”

“Don’t touch me, old woman!” he snarled down at her.

With speed that would make a leopard blush she grabbed his ear and twisted. He yowled as she hauled his face down to her level. “Now, don’t you talk to me like that, Sonny! Show some respect for your elders! I bet you were raised better!”

Hauruk blinked, ear burning and breathing hot breath onto a completely unphased old Gilnean woman. Was she mad? “I am not a Sonny.” he managed.

“No, I suppose not.” She sniffed and let go of his ear. He very bravely managed not to rub it and whimper. For someone who appeared to be made of kindling, she was very strong. “I suppose all those bits and bones mean you’re someone important then?”

He humped and thumped his chest, “I am Senior Sergeant Hauruk Stormblood!”

“Oh, very important.” the little old Gilnean lady patted him on the arm and started to toddle back to one of the small cottages. “And I”m Granny Weatherapple. Let’s go have some tea.”

“I am not here to drink tea!” Hauruk protested, stamping a foot, “I am here to find the person who left a goblin ear on my door!”

“You’re being rude again.” She said, stopping and pointing at him with her cane.

“OF COURSE I’M RUDE! I’M AN ORC!” He bellowed.

“And what would your mother’s mother do if you talked to her like that, young man?” she asked in a very stern grandmotherly voice.

Hauruk blinked at her.

Granny Weatherapple put a fist on one hip and stared at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry.” He managed, speaking to his feet. “I would like tea. Should I bring you biscuits?” The orc wasn’t actually sure where he’d find biscuits. He didn’t think she’d be very happy if he just plundered one of the other cottages.

“No no, that’s fine.” She gestured ‘come on then’ and turned back to her cottage. “You can bring biscuits next time.”

‘Next time?’ Hauruk wondered in a mild stage of panic. However, he dutifully followed her into her home, almost bending a third over to fit through the door.

“The Worgen have to do the same. You’d think we’d learn to build bigger!” she tutted as she fetched an already boiling kettle off the stove. She peered in, “Oh good, plenty of water still in there. You won’t have to go to the well.”

The senior sergeant wondered why it would be him going to the well and if any force would prevent him from going and fetching the water if she demanded it.

“Don’t just stand around! Sit down!” Granny nagged.

Hauruk looked around at the delicate-seeming furniture with the doilies and flowery upholstery. The only thing that lent to the idea that this was in the middle of the wilderness was the collection of rifles on one wall. “Uh..”

Granny pointed at a kitchen table that seemed to be made of wood, wool, and wishful thinking. “If my grandson can sit on that in mid-teenage Worgen grump, you can sit on it just fine,” She put down the delicate teacup and saucer on his side of the table before fetching her own and sitting down.

The Orc warily and slowly lowered himself into the chair that Granny Weatherapple was looking at expectantly. He was pleasantly surprised it didn’t even creek, although he did have to practically put his entire legs under the chair so they wouldn’t crash into the table. He ended up hunched over and taking the teacup in forefinger and thumb and trying not crush it. He took a cautious sip. He probably looked as startled as he felt.

“Gilnean Gold, best there is. Well, was, till that bitch Sylvanas burnt it all.” Granny growled, a startlingly almost wolven sound. “Still have some stocks though, hopefully will get them in the ground come spring!”

“Er, yes.” He managed and decided sipping more tea was safest.

“Now don’t slurp. Young man like you has better manners than that, I know. You boys, get in a few wars and you forget everything your mothers taught you!”

Hauruk wasn’t going to explain that his mother mostly taught him how to kill humans quickly to escape.

“Oh sure, you remember the death and dismemberment bits, but when it comes to wiping your feet and pleases and thank yous, gone like the wind!” she continued.

Or maybe Gilnean mothers had more in common with orcs than he thought.

Granny Weatherapple put down her half finished cup of tea and reached behind her for a tin. “Biscuit?” she asked, holding it out.

Hauruk very careful took one, not touching any others as he wasn’t quite sure when he’d last washed his hands. It was round, tan in colour, with a darker chocolate coating on one side.

“They’re best if you dunk them in your tea!” Granny Weatherapple offered, showing him with her own biscuit and tea.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the mushy biscuit that resulted. The texture was odd but the flavour was quite enjoyable. “Thank you,” he remembered to say.

“You’re welcome. Now, you wanted to talk about the Goblin ear on your door.” She said.

“Yes.” He replied warily. “Please!” he quickly added.

“You’re a good boy!” Granny Weatherapple told him, leaning forward to pat his hand.  “Well, it’s no grand mystery. I did it. I cut off that goblin’s ear and sent him packing!”

“What!” Hauruk almost jumped to his feet but when his thighs thumped against the table just from the prepping to stand he realized he’d knock everything every which way if he did and he didn’t want to destroy the house. Well, not yet anyway, he reassured himself.

“Well, he was cutting down our trees. Didn’t even ask. Just brought up his big shredder, woke up half the neighbourhood before the cock had even crowed and started chopping down those trees. So I got up and went and had a chat with him. I even threw the bits of his machine after him.”

Hauruk wasn’t quite sure what to say at this point.

“Oh, close your mouth. You’ll catch flies if you leave it open like that!” Granny admonished. “And don’t look so horrified! His ear will grow back! I left you the ear so you’d know WHY the Goblins had buggered off and WHY your neighbours weren’t very happy with you lot right now.”

“Uh.”

“I know that that Sylvanas is up to her old tricks and nastiness and our King has his fur in knots, but that doesn’t mean we have to be uncivilized. Now finish your tea.”

Head whirling, Hauruk managed a “Yes, Granny.”

“See! You’re a good boy. Your mother would be proud.”

His mother would probably be very confused at him sitting in this human’s kitchen drinking tea and eating biscuits.

He found himself discussing the winter’s weather and what crops the orcs planned to farm. He had to explain that orcs were more ranchers than farmers to which she seemed rather happy about since that would mean trade.

When tea and socialization was done a very confused Hauruk got to his feet. “I mean no offense Granny Weatherapple, but why are you not leading the Gilneans if not the Alliance?”

“Oh, well, Genn does a good enough job and we Grannies don’t have time for silly things like meetings and paperwork!”

Grannies, plural? Poor Hauruk’s already whirling head went into a spin. The Horde was truly doomed if the gilnean grandmothers ever teamed up and went on the offensive.

[Pirates of the Caribbean Fanfiction] [Rabbits] Of hats and horses.

(Stock photo stand in for Baby D)

It was time for Captain Jack’s weekly visit to the Rum Rabbit to collect his hats from the hat stealing varmint of a rabbit Captain Ren called a first mate. He’d tried just letting her keep the hat and live without but she’d then started stealing his bandanas, and bracelets, and beads, and finally just chewing holes in his clothes where one didn’t want holes to be. Sailing winter waves and drafts in dodgy places didn’t mix, even in the Caribbean.

It was a busy wharf but he knew he was going the right way when he passed the longship of rabbits dumping their haul out onto the dock. There seemed to be two piles of loot, one of rabbit-friendly food things and chewable things while the second pile seemed to be shiny things. Captain Jack couldn’t say why a boatload of rabbits with Viking helmets were unloading their vessel in Tortuga but they seemed pretty enthusiastic about it. He had to wonder where they’d found a gold plated toilet brush and why they’d brought it all this way. At least he knew it wasn’t the rum making him see things when he saw rabbits were involved.

However, a large brown horse was another matter. He blinked and rubbed his eyes as he swaggered up the gangplank of the Rum Rabbit to find Captain Ren scolding said horse. The horse, for his part, seemed to be completely ignoring the Captain.  It was rubbing noses with a large white rabbit who also appeared to be completely ignoring the Captain. Not that anything was new there, most sensible beings ignored Captain Ren. She could get very naggy and scoldy if one let her.

“You do realize, don’t you love, you have a horse on your deck?” Captain Jack Sparrow asked at his most casual conversational.

“OF COURSE I BLOODY REALIZE I HAVE A HORSE ON MY DECK!” The short but dangerous blonde growled as she whirled on the pirate.  The horse in question was now exchanging nose rubs with a brown bunny with a white star on her nose as a small lagomorphic crowd was gathering to watch the show.  “HE!” She continued, “IS SUPPOSED TO BE IN HIS BARN!”

The horse turned his head away from the rabbit so he could snort on Captain Ren. He swished his tail while the captain of the Rum Rabbit seemed to be counting to ten. She did turn a lovely shade of red before she was about to explode. She wiped the horse snot off her face and chest and onto the shoulder of the horse.

“YOU!” she pointed at Captain Jack Sparrow. He made the ‘me?’ gesture of a hand on his chest and his best most innocent look. “Go get your hats.” she turned to the horse, “And YOU! Get off my bloody main deck! You’re in the way of everything!”

Captain Jack decided discretion was a better part of valour and he always did think of better plans when he had his hat on. Perhaps Miss Cindy would have a few ideas for mayhem while he was negotiating the return of his chapeau. Or at least, know where the rum was.

He ignored the very large splash of a large brown horse jumping off the side of the ship and into the very mucky harbour waters. He also ignored the scream of anguish of a frustrated Captain as she cursed after her horse and yelled for nets to be fetched. Human crew appeared to assist since the rabbits weren’t about to dirty their paws with manual labour.
Wait, had she said hats plural?

Captain Jack entered the First Mate’s quarters scratching his head. Some might call it the Captain’s quarters, but anyone with any sense knew that Cindy was just letting Ren use them now and then.

The small white rabbit in question was curled up on a pile of hats on the bed, snoring. Her black markings around her eyes looking like pirately applied mascara and shadow.  Only two of the hats were his. In fact, it seemed the rabbit had extended her thievery. Perhaps she was planning on opening a millinery since Captain Ren didn’t seem to get out on the waves much these days.

“Ahem.” Captain Jack Sparrow, Captain (sometimes) of the Black Pearl, master of the waves, defeater of Kraken and Davy Jones alike cleared his throat and stared down at a less than four-pound rabbit.

The rabbit in question opened an eye, got up, turned around to present her butt in his general direction and apparently went back to sleep.

He sat on the edge of the bed, a white ear turning in his direction. “Look, darlin’, we can do this dance every week where you steal me hats, an’ I try an’ find what’d make you happy to get them back, but I’m sayin’ for this week, yer missin’ the show of the century as there’s a horse swimming in the harbour and your Cap’n’ is tryin’ to fish him out like an unruly merman. So I be thinkin’, if you go be watchin’ and havin’ a good laugh, I can take me hats and you can be stealin’ them again anyway, savvy?”

The ear tip twitched thoughtfully. Cindy yawned and stretched, hopping off the hat-bed and onto the floor. A few foot flicks in the direction of the (sometimes) captain of the Black Pearl and the door opened at a glance. If he could find a rabbit that would open doors for him like that, he’d have a lot easier time making a decent profit, he would.

Ignoring the pile of hats, for now, he rifled through Captain Ren’s drawers and chests. Frilly knickers, frilly bras, frilly shirts.. AH! The rum! Jack industrially took two bottles, wrapped them up in bandanas, some of them even his own, and stuffed them inside the hat he didn’t put on his head.

Sauntering out on the deck he found bunnies crowded around the exterior bulkhead laughing their cotton tails off as a Captain and her crew tried to net a horse who was having entirely too much fun staying out of reach of the nets and ropes as he paddled around in the harbour.

“He’s gotta get tired eventually.” Captain Jack offered as he made his way to the gangplank. While two bottles of rum was a perfectly reasonable payment for the inconvenience of his having to come and collect his hats, Captain Ren didn’t always see it that way. Perhaps it was that he’d taken two barrels a few weeks ago.

“Not bloodly likely.” Captain Ren muttered. She gave Captain Jack stink-eye, but he wasn’t clanking or slooshing so she decided whatever he’d stolen this time probably wasn’t worth the effort of trying to reclaim.

Captain Jack ambled his way down the gangplank and looked from the horse to the shore. “Why don’t ya be meetin’ me at the launch and I’ll see if can be gettin’ ye some rum?” he called to the horse.

“NO!” Called Captain Ren as the horse’s ears perked up and he immediately started swimming to the boat launch on the beach. She buried her hand in her face, “Even my bloody horse is a rum-sodden pirate.”

“Only type of pirate to be!” Captain Jack told her with a bow and flourish of his freshly claimed hat. “For without rum, the world would be a dull place indeed.”