Quick Note: This is a freshly written story. Unlike the shorter ones that I find in my old computer, this one will hopefully show my progression to write, and include a wide array of detail for anyone reading. Thus we split both Jorifen and Drevias and send them off to their own stories and adventures. Enjoy!
Also. These didn't happen in RolePlay. Simply playing with words.
To Track a Worgen
Earning a keep by chasing down fugitives and either killing them or dragging them back beaten and bloodied is enough to make anyone reconsider the choices they've made in life. Though breaking the daily grind was his obsession with hunting animals for their leathers, meats, claws, and anything of value he could manage to sell upon others from his stall within Ashenvale or Darkshore. Unable to enter the city due to his still lingering exile. His wares sold for much less, yet there was always something to be done besides standing there reading raunchy books, drinking, or stuffing himself with rice cakes. Always a board to walk up to, pull down a wanted poster, and run off after whichever the sentinels wanted next.
It was one of those days as the hunter sat, propped up against the wall of the nearby inn, watching Kaldorei pass his stall with only a few glances to his product. The helmet he often wore sitting atop the head of the red, lava-fused Core Hound which slobbered a nice little puddle of orange goop as it stood the same. Lazy, or relaxing you might call it. Of course the city of Auberdine had recently been attacked by the Horde, luckily the repairs were underway and there was plenty of loud noises. Banging nails into roof shingles. Digging holes for the posts that had burnt to ash and using the dirt from said digging to plug in some pot holes in the road. Beautiful Kaldorei women walking busily in the dark woods, lithe frames yet each one with a distinct characteristic. Drevias would move his eyes, not his neck, as he managed to sneak a glance at each and every 'distinction'. However only one woman caught his eye as she wandered to a nearby board and hammered something in. Frowning, curious as to what it was Drevias scooped all his product in his bag and dropped it in one of the mouths of the now yawning Core Hound. Pulling his helmet to his head and crossing the veil over his face, and pulling down the metal plate which covered his left eye. He clicked his tongue and both the adult Core Hound, and a baby core hound took to each heel.
"Wonder whats on today's menu, girls." he mumbled to his companions. Pulling the parchment down and eying it over while mindlessly reaching for the bag in the hounds mouth to sling that over his shoulder. "Great. Another Worgen stealing goods, and sniffing the civilians..." he sighed, folding the paper skillfully with three fingers and tucking it into his belt. "Last seen... Ashenvale... That narrows it down." he grumbled as he walked out of the small town, crossing one of the bridges and heading towards the more war-torn area's of Ashenvale. Sure that he'd be able to find some indication that his prey was around that area.
"Keep your noses open for the smell of Worgen. You remember that scent. Smells like wet dog, even when dry." he chuckles, then realizes he's making jokes to two Core Hounds who, from his knowladge can't speak in return. He looks to them, and each of the four heads look back up at him. "Shut up." he mumbles. Making his way down the winding road.
Busily sniffing about, the pup wanders between Drevias' legs as both heads drag along the ground nose first. Before they stop, and in turn, Drevias and the larger hound stop as well. Both of the pups heads bark before splitting and aiming two different ways.
"For fucks sake." Drev couldn't help but place his palm against his face, stepping over the pups and continuing onward.
A little further and they saw a few furblogs, fixing their huts and conversing in their own language before they spot Drevias.
"You. Elf thing." one of them points at him, and Drev's eyebrow rises. Brushing along the brim of the metal helmet.
"I've really got to quit drinking..."
"Wot? No drink here. Worgen. Killing my people. Eating my people."
"Wait... a second... Aren't you trying to kill MY people?" both of the Core Hounds growl in sync with the world 'kill'
"Yes. Past. Uh... you go kill Worgen hiding back there. We not attack you."
Drevias nods, walking past the furblogs before aiming his gun with one hand towards one of them, pulling the loose trigger and sending a large slug into one of their chests.
"Sorry. Hair trigger on this thing." he mumbles, the furblogs running to the aid of their murdered friend. The Core Hounds following, sniffing around, trying to locate the Worgen directly.
The Worgen, who was indeed gorging himself on the succulent bodies of the furblogs looked quite feral. His eyes glowing red as he glared down at his freshly slaughtered meal. Tearing at its coat to get to the soft bits. He was far too busy to notice the cliche fashion Drevias and his hounds hid themselves in the top of the nearest tree. Only the small pup finding it easy by resting on Drevias' head. Alimore finding it difficult to grip on the branches, using both heads to try to keep itself balanced and upright.
Drev pulled the paper from his belt and looked it through. "Alright. Kill, bring back head. Alive, triple price for bounties head... Do I wish to have a Worgen head in my bags which might be eaten by hungry hounds... or a live Worgen who may in turn, eat me." He would continue to try and decide this for himself before a very large, purple Stormcrow perched itself on a nearby branch, and a small black box crackled out in a voice very familiar to Drev,
"Just knock it out."
"Son of a bitch..." Drevias took a swing at the bird, before him, both Core Hounds, and by managing to grab the crows tail, him as well. Fell down the tree. Bouncing on every branch along the way.
The Stormcrows box echoed out a pained voice when it spoke.
"Clearly you're the brains of the family..."
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