#naktah longhoof

[bethabunnywrites]

Warcraft Zoology Prompts! Buckle up, theres a lot! I'm demanding af. For Hura: Wyvern. For Nak: Hecklefang Hyena. For Ji: Shoveltusk. For Mathani: Skytalon AND Mudjumper Toad for all four but you can limit to just one wish if you like!

OH BOY.Hura: Is there someone in your character’s life they feel indebted to? How does your character prefer to “return a favor”?~ Honestly, Hura has always been a very…grateful person, I guess.  She’s quick to thank the Earthmother or Rah or pretty much anyone else for anything that has gone well in her life, and she’s quick to offer help in return in any way she can.  More recently, however, she feels she owes Imry and Tosori, as well as Rah’s parents, for all of their help with the baby and her efforts to get back into a good place, and it bothers her immensely that there’s no real way for her to make it up to them or express those feelings.  And she owes her life to the rest of her unit in Azsuna, but there’s nothing that she *can* do to repay them.

Nak’tah: How is your character’s sense of humor? What are some things that your character finds funny? What makes them laugh?~Nak isn’t actually nearly as grumpy as I like to say he is.  He’s struggling through pretty severe depression, but he’ll guffaw with the rest of them at a raunchy joke or good prank.  His own sense of humor is very sarcastic and teasing, and he’ll grin like the big goofy kid he is and spoil any sort of joke that would require a straight face.Ji-hing: Is there a talent your character has that not many people know about?~ Ermm.  Ummm.  I’ve rped a lot of her talents, honestly.  Herbalism, linguistics, a love of literature and cooking.  I guess for one that no one really knows, she has a decent singing voice.  She doesn’t think so, of course, but her low velvety tones would lend well to a modern AU involving dark, smoky jazz bars or speakeasies and lots of straight liquor in dirty glasses.  What trope have I NOT used with her? Mathani: Does your character remember their dreams? What is a reoccurring dream your character has? Any nightmares?~ Mathani has one very particular recurring nightmare.  It’s one of the only dreams she still has, really, and occasionally it is bad enough to be considered more of a night terror despite being an actual memory.  She was on her way to the Crossroads to trade when she heard and felt the earth being ripped apart by the Cataclysm.  The Barrens were ripped into two and her home was located just along the line.  She was still close enough to home to turn back in hopes of helping in some way, but all that managed to get her was the memory of her children screaming as the hut fell into the crack.  She usually wakes up at that point. (sorry that got dark quick)And the last one: Your character gets to make three wishes. What would they be?Hura: 1. For her family to be together forever with no one running off and joining any more wars. 2. For all of the animal companions she’s ever had to be alive and healthy and happy and in one big cuddle pile with the rest of her family, and Rah to be okay with that.  3. For Ashkii to grow up to be anywhere near as amazing as Rah is in her eyes.Nak: 1. To feel like he’s capable of being anything other than a soldier. 2. Companionship.  Platonic or romantic, it doesn’t even matter anymore. 3. To get to a place where he doesn’t consider running into battle without a shield just to see if his fate is to stay on this world another day or not.Ji: 1. She will get Akota to talk about his feelings, one of these days. 2. A nice cold glass of a good brew, at any given moment. 3. A cup of tea and a good book back at her little apartment, with Akota’s arm around her and her favorite incense burning.Mathani: 1, 2, 3. Her mate, her daughter, and her son.  

[bethabunnywrites]

A little on Nak’tah

Okay, so a few months ago I wrote about my warrior, Nak’tah, and I actually liked it enough that I haven’t since deleted it.  That’s quite a feat for me.  This was back when he almost sort of kind of had a boyfriend (that didn’t work out), and he was still staying in Orgrimmar.  So, I dunno, have some PTSD.  Tagging with trigger warnings, because suicidal thoughts and other not at all lovely stuff.

The quiet little room with hardly more than a cot and scattered armor was bathed in the soft sunlight of the late morning, a few soft rays poking through the drawn shutters of the solitary window, but more than enough to set the meager room ablaze.  Still, it was not enough to wake a warrior from a deep sleep; or at least, it had not yet pierced through the pillow pulled over his face.  

The sleep was far from restful, however - his hooves kicked and tangled in the blankets, his breathing was harsh and quick, with even a few muffled whimpers escaping his throat.  Whatever terror disturbed his rest was cut short as he sat bolt upright, his breath catching in his lungs as the pillow fell forgotten to the floor.  Steel grey eyes scanned the room urgently, searching for a threat that he was certain would be there, only to find nothing but the few things he could actually call his possessions.  Still, the bull trembled as he pulled the sheets free of his hooves and brought them over the side of the cot to touch the scuffed wood of the floor, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, a futile attempt to gather himself.  He could recite that it was only a dream until he had forgotten all other words, but it simply did not dispel the knots in his stomach, nor bring the air back to his desperate lungs.

Gods, when had he ever been this afraid, before?  He had nearly forgotten what true fear felt like - anxiety, yes, but this was something new.  He had not been this frightened since…

That dream.  It was the same one he had a few nights ago, one he was becoming increasingly familiar with as it came with more frequency.  Simply attempting to recollect it made him ill, and he reached for the flask on his bedside table as if it held the very key to life itself.  Key to life or ticket to an early grave, it was no matter.  The lid screwed off and the mouth of the bottle pressed to his lips yielded naught but an exasperated groan as only air touched his lustful tongue.  His pulse began to slow without the liquid courage, though, his breaths becoming deeper and slower.  This was not the first time that he had been left with his unclouded thoughts, and he had some confidence that he could at least make it down to the inn despite the utter torture of sobriety.

He stood to do exactly that, tugging a worn and moth-eaten shirt over his scarred chest.  He was desperate enough to consider leaving without even dressing in his armor, but for some reason the thought of being bare in the city caused another flutter in his abdomen, his hands still not alleviated of their shaking from before.  Practiced and precise, if scarred and calloused, hands dressed him in the plate composing his second skin, buckles snapping and straps tightened before he reaches to the axes leaned against the wall.  His hand paused, hesitating between the larger and the smaller, but finally settling on the second and scooping up a shield to be strapped alongside it.  The presence of the blade on his hip brought him some comfort, at least; enough to get him down to the tavern for the rest of his throat-burning relaxation.

Heavy hoofsteps carried him to the door with two beats of bone on wood, but the gauntleted hand he raised to the latch paused there.  He willed it to move, but to no avail, and the palm pressed against the worn wood was quickly followed by his forehead as he leaned against it.  It was just a staircase, then a street, then a tavern that would have little to no other business at so early an hour.  His stomach churned, the serpents of his anxiety writhing around and hissing their disapproval of such a simple activity.  The deep breaths he took in an attempt to settle them did no good, that open palm against the door curling into a fist that beat against the wood, dust cascading from the frame inside and out as it strained against its hinges.  He had not meant to hit it so hard, but that phrase alone could explain much of his life.

Another deep breath and he uncurled the hand, having to command it to do so and to come back to rest on the latch.  He tugged it with his eyes closed, the light of the morning warming the umber fur of his face as his nostrils took in the unmistakable odor of the Horde capital.  A focused effort brought his lids up and the city gradually into focus, his tongue dragging across his dry lips as he remembered his reasons for leaving the quiet of his rented room.  His long strides carried him quickly and easily to the tavern, his entire will bent on putting one leg forward, then the other.  His pale eyes scanned from side to side as he walked, narrowed suspiciously as he tried desperately to control his breathing.  Something was wrong, he could feel it - they must have found him, it could not have been hard.  Would the Horde even protect him if they came to claim their property?

He shook his head in hopes of knocking that thought loose, this breath shuddering in his lungs as he tried to will the fear away.  He had not been this paranoid about it in so long, but that dream...That dream brought it fresh to the surface of his mind, so vivid that he could almost feel the shackles on his wrists and ankles, rubbing gauntleted fingers over the bracers that had never before felt so constrictive on his flesh.

His steps were gathering speed as he resisted his panic, moving quickly as if to somehow escape his very mind, or at least in hope that the booze would allow him to do so.  The bartender started at the sound of the plated bull all but storming into the darkened room, but he saw the far too familiar face and pulled a bottle from beneath the bar.  Coins were exchanged with looks their only companions, and the warrior turned on a heel without so much as opening his mouth.  He knew.  They all knew, really.  All of Orgrimmar probably knew his face by now, which was about the least comforting thought he could bring to mind.  

Mindless steps carried him toward the rear exit of the city as he yanked at the cork of the bottle with his teeth, a practiced motion that quickly yielded him the spoils of his journey.  He tipped the bottle up without a moment’s hesitation, paying no mind to any who stopped to stare at the overlarge bull trying his damnedest to achieve drunkenness before afternoon tea.  His tolerance was building far beyond what it had ever been, but that came as no surprise as he gradually eased his way from one bottle a day to two and three.  Whatever it took to stop thinking about it, to stop looking around for signs of attack, signs that a random passerby may be more than that.  He had not taken a deep breath since he had left his room, and his chest and lungs began to ache beneath the weight of his breastplate.

He turned outside of the gate, walking almost subconsciously toward the cliffs overlooking the sea.  His steps came with more ease outside of the city, but far less than he needed to function like a normal, living, breathing Shu’halo, his muscles tensed and the fingers clutching his bottle far more fearfully than affectionately.  This was the worst it had ever been, by far, his night terrors typically something dismissed upon waking and not thought of anymore for sake of his sanity.  Worrying about worrying was a damned stupid thing to do, but he supposed he must be damned stupid, at this point.

The sound of waves breaking on rocks brought him some relief from the din between his ears, and he quickened his already fast pace, nearly jogging until he reached the very edge and causing himself to skid to a stop just short of going over.  Somehow the thought of that terrified him worlds less than anything else had that day, and he found himself pondering it again.  Sure, his sister would miss him, if she ever found out.  His brother would, of course, once she passed the news along.  But, really, what else held him in this life?  Family that he was estranged from?  What had the Earthmother blessed him with in his twenty years, aside from physical and emotional torture to the point that it was still excruciating several years later?  The bartenders would miss him practically handing over his wallet, but who…

He closed his eyes as ebony fur enters his mind’s eye, the hoof that had lifted itself from the rocky edge to move forward suddenly remembering itself and planting itself back a step, the other quickly following it.  Of course he would care, wouldn’t he?  That thought only seemed to worsen the clenching of his stomach, and he let his knees buckle and bring him to the ground.  Once there he at least had the presence of mind to make himself comfortable, scooting forward just enough to let his hooves hang over the ledge as he nursed his bottle.  Gods, some days those blue eyes had been the only thing that kept him from coming here, for this exact reason...so many times he had considered it, but not once had he had the balls to do it.  Whether he still had some vague sense of self preservation or he simply could not inflict more pain on himself, he was unsure, but neither had stopped him today.

He could not tell the other bull, of course.  That would get him nothing but a constant watch, or some sort of calfsitter for drunken suicidal adults - if such a thing existed, he would definitely know of it.  But, then again, there was always the war.  He didn’t even care where he was shipped off to, at this point, if there was a chance to swing an axe with the less and less secretive hope that another would be swung at him with more skill.  Letting that thought flow through his mind so clearly, so unashamedly felt odd, being so typically one that he shoved to the back of his conscious in strict denial that he actually did want to die.  

Impending doom or not, it would not occur today.  He gave himself a little nod in agreement as that decision was set in stone, the bottle raised to his lips once more.  Not today, nor tomorrow.  Perhaps not even anytime soon, and certainly not of his own hand.  He was too damn proud for that.

But...perhaps he could sit a bit longer.

[bethabunnywrites]

Nak’tah Longhoof

The tall, broad bull that stands before you has clearly spent most of his short life in battle.  Bulky muscles ripple throughout his young frame, and his face looks as if he would not know how to smile.  If one were to somehow see him without his armor, their eyes would immediately be drawn to the scars riddling his pale brown fur as if he were a target dummy reincarnated.  His fur is patchy and rough due to the sheer amount of pink and purple scars running through it, and he behaves almost as if he is self conscious of it.  He rarely speaks unless he has a damned good reason to do so, and rarely does he find such a reason in the company of other people.

His armor tends to be simple and practical plate and mail, patched and worn as if it has not been replaced in many years, and he favors a two handed axe that shows the wear and tear of a treasured but well-used heirloom.  On occasion he will instead carry a smaller axe and a shield, but if so he has every intention of being in a fight.  If he is wearing a cloak, there is a chill in the air - he has no time nor patience for bravado.  His silver eyes are always calculating and analytical, suggesting notable intelligence behind the gruff demeanor, but an overwhelming anxiety and general nervousness.  They have seen far too much for his age, and he doesn’t seem to handle that well.

He keeps his mane unceremoniously braided, and his beard clipped close more from necessity than for aesthetic.  His horns are long and unbroken, a dark charcoal grey with surprisingly few nicks and cracks considering the condition of his hide.  The ring in his nose is a simple, gold-toned thing, entirely free of any sort of adornment or engraving, much like the rest of his person.

He will not speak of his past, and may become angry if questioned extensively, but really his gruffness comes more from anxiety and a pinch of shyness than any sort of desire to be edgy or tough.  If one did manage to engage him in a more lengthy conversation, they would likely find him thoughtful, if defensive and distant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Best of luck getting him to talk about it.  Anything you would know, you would have heard as a rumor from someone else.

(You may know him if you served on the Mor’shan Rampart Cata-MoP, or in Wor’var during early WoD.  He’s currently stationed in/around Thunder Totem))

[bethabunnywrites]

One more to clean out my Drive

(Another Nak’tah appearance, featuring mystery Highmountain girl))

Nak'tah very slowly began to wake, opening his eyes only to wonder if they had actually opened. He was enveloped in darkness, black and suffocating. His chest tightened with panic and he thrashed around in an attempt to sit up, only for the tightening to be joined by a stabbing pain near his heart. He took a slow, calming breath, feeling around in an attempt to grasp his surroundings. His fingers found thick fur, likely some sort of bedding, and he began to make out the outline of a tent.

He carefully attempted to sit up again, his head throbbing and his chest only seeming to get worse as he raised himself up on his hands. He winced and grunted, lifting a hand to his bare chest and finding it wrapped with thick bandages.

Footsteps approached outside of whatever dwelling in which he had found himself, and he reached for an axe that wasn't there just as a smirking face appeared from behind a flap. Her auburn fur was illuminated by flickering firelight, and she let herself in without even thinking to ask permission.

"Hey, look who's awake! The dumbass." Her tones were melodic, the deep ringing of her voice like a smooth velvet or a well aged red wine in the heavy darkness. Her horns were the antlers of the Highmountain, shining in the dim light and reflecting in sparkling mahogany eyes. She was the kind of woman that could take a man's breath away in a single glance.

Well, a straight man. The bull sitting in front of her was far more concerned with the pain in his chest and the fact that a stranger had not only insulted him but apparently stripped him of his weapons. "Who the fuck d'you think you are?" He rasped at her, quickly realizing that breathing was going to require far more effort than it typically did. Still, he couldn't let her get away with that shit.

"The girl who saved your ass, grumpypants, but I guess a 'thank you' was a lot to expect from an outsider." Her voice kept a sarcastic edge, and he could just make out the curling of her lips in the firelight. She was loving this, and it only served to enrage him more.

"I dunno what you're talking about." He grumbles, certainly earning the 'grumpypants' title whether he liked it or not. "How did I get here?"

"I told you, I saved your ass. You're lucky I was mounted or I couldn't have dragged you back here. You're ridiculously big, do you know that?"

"All I know is I'm getting tired of your shit." He huffed, pushing himself up and all but jumping to his feet. As the world spun and went black, the last thing his brain processed was the breathless laughter of the mystery girl.

*** He awoke again in the morning to the sound of meat sizzling in a pan and what was essentially a hangover without the fun part that comes before. His head was throbbing even worse, his mouth was so dry his tongue was scratching the roof, and if he were offered the chance to die he would gladly accept.

He sat up despite the ache in his chest, this time very slowly pulling himself to his feet and bracing his weight on the frame of the tent. He pushed past the flap to see the girl from before cooking eggs and meat over a campfire, and his dry mouth somehow found the time to salivate. The girl looked up with a sly smirk as she saw him, expertly flipping the eggs without looking.

"Good morning, sunshine. Are we in a better mood today?"

He was not, of course, and he plopped down on a log across from her and scratched at the bandage on his chest without bothering to reply, instead quietly grumbling, "what did you do to me" in a rhetorical manner. Still, she snickered, cocking her head to the side as she eyed the muscular bull.

"I have to say, you're the first person I've ever seen dumb enough to try to fight an earth elemental head on like that. No surprise he got you square in the chest~" she slid the food onto a ceramic plate, holding it out toward him in offering. "How does it feel, by the way? You're lucky your ribs are intact."

Vague images of the events she mentioned floated through his clouded mind as he took the plate. There was certainly something large and vaguely rock shaped that ran at him, and he was pretty sure it had a horn on his head...that must be what pierced his hide. He mused on this as he lifted a piece of unidentified meat between two fingers, sniffing at it suspiciously. "Why did you help me?" It was the thought at the forefront of his mind, at least as much as he could think clearly at the moment.

This brought a scowl to the Highmountain's face, and she shook her antlered head as she responded with an exasperated tone. "I couldn't fucking leave you there to die. An'she above, it's a miracle you didn't fall off of Thunder Totem. I've never seen someone nearly die while they were still that close to the fucking city."

Of course, his frown deepened at that, and he glanced up at the large totem that really was nearly close enough to touch. They were hardly more than a short walk down the river, and his embarrassment disguised itself as a deeper, more intense grump. "You don't even know me. It was probably worse for you to grab me than to leave me." He eyed her suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. "What do you want from me?"

"Obviously your glorious outsider cock." She managed to keep a straight face for a moment before a hearty laugh overtook her, and she slapped her knee with a rather rude guffaw before exclaiming, "dear gods, you should've seen your FACE! I have a mate, grumpypants, I'm sorry to inform you. You'll have to try for the next girl who saves you from near death.  Or, do you have a mate already?”

Nak stumbled with that question, stammering a bit in the most obvious of ways.  Did he have someone?  It had certainly seemed like it, at least for a few weeks, but how long had it been since he had seen him?  A couple of months, now?  The Highmountain girl caught his hesitation and raised an eyebrow, saving him from the lengthening silence with a nod and continuing in a less jovial manner.  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, my wife ran off for that ridiculous trial of strength that’s going on in Stormheim.  Fucking Bloodtotems, man.  At least it kept her away from the corruption that’s been going through their tribe, but it really does suck to have a thing for a nice, solid bitch face.  And, if nothing else, they do say that the size of our antlers is a decent judge of the size of our-”

She was cut off by a sudden yell, saving Nak’tah from the growing flush on his cheeks as she jumped to her feet, ears perked.  “Well, that’s my cue to leave.  Do you think you can find your way back to the city from here?  It’s, you know, right there.  Maybe you can hold onto the rails on the bridges so you don’t fall off or anything.”

And just like that, she was gone, shouldering a fishing rod that he hadn’t even noticed and sprinting down to a boat that was docked closer to the farmland downriver.  The bull felt suddenly oddly alone, and went about cautiously nibbling the food she had weirdly, selflessly made him, all while giving him hell.

 It had been a weird fucking morning.

[bethabunnywrites]

11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?

Welp, my answer for this is a big, boring no, so how about I just give some basic dietary habits on the main few?Hura will eat pretty much anything.  And probably too much of it.  Her favorites are dumplings from the little tavern in Halfhill, and chicken wings from the Faire.Ji-hing, in contrast, discovered the meat & taters lifestyle when she came to Kalimdor, and never looked back.  But, she does end most days with a few mugs of beer or a pot of tea.Nak’tah is getting a lot better about having food at meals instead of liquor.  I’m proud of him.Pay’ashe…well, do you remember those commercials for Hardees or Carl’s Jr or whatever where the lady is eating a cheeseburger, but sexy?  That’s Paya.Yurthelle doesn’t eat except in social situations.  For obvious reasons.

[bethabunnywrites]

(Bestows a tray of orange iced cinnamon rolls for Nak'tah)

Nak'tah seems confused, at first, leaning over the tray and inspecting them with a furrowed brow. “What are these?” he rumbles half to himself, but realization slowly descends upon him and his eyes widen as he flushes scarlet. “For…for me? Are you sure? Surely, they’re not…well, I guess I could just take one…”

tl;dr: *hearteyes*

[bethabunnywrites]

28 and 29 for Nak'tah!

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?- Nak'tah is afraid of being alone, and of his own apathy. Sometimes he’ll drink it away, or sleep it off, but most of the time he’ll just sink down into a nasty pit of depression. He considers it acceptance of the inevitable, but he’s just scared. 
29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? - This answer is actually kind of both? If he, for example, found out that Akota is afraid of spiders or something, he would find it hilarious and give him shit about it for eternity. But if it’s something that he considered a more “valid” fear, or the person legitimately seemed terrified, he’d be much more gentle and maybe even hold them until they felt better. But that would be reserved for only a couple of people. One person. Something like that.

[bethabunnywrites]

☄☄☄ for Hisin and Nak'tah!

Oh goodness. I’m assuming you mean three for each, so here goes.

Hisin:- if there were Hawaiian shirts in WoW, he’d be wearing one. So modern!au Hisin would be in that, and socks with sandals. And old man khakis. - he will tell you tales of his “conquests” all day long, but he actually didn’t sow his wild oats more than your average healer. Take that however you want ;)- he spends at least fifteen minutes every morning trying to get his mustache to lay right

Nak'tah:- the arenas where he spent his developmental years were a really homophobic environment. That’s part of why he’s so withdrawn and assumes the worst when he has the gall to have feelings. - when he’s around other soldiers he’s casual and super sarcastic, but it’s pretty much just a front (as you’ve seen). Gods forbid he show any weakness, right?- he favors axes, both one and two handed, but he’s trained in pretty much everything that you can kill someone with. Swords, maces, polearms, whatever. He’s good to go.

[bethabunnywrites]

"'It's just a cut.' Really?!" (From Lixi to Nak'tah)

“Really, it is.” The warrior grins and shrugs his shoulders as if he can’t possibly comprehend there being any more to the conversation, but the twinkle in his silver eyes says otherwise. He’s clenching his left forearm in his other hand, a trickle of blood leaking through his thick fingers and matting his fur. “It would dry up in no time, if you just left it be. But you won’t.”

[bethabunnywrites]

🐉 - Mythical Creature ⚡️ - Weather and 🌼 - Flower for Ji, Mathani and Nak'tah (Because I'm greediest~)

I’m cheating and looking up flower symbolism, just FYI.  PS THIS WAS HARD.

Ji-hing:

-Mythical Creature: Not to go with stereotypes, but I’m pretty sure her short temper and book hoarding would qualify Ji as a dragon by most definitions.

-Weather: One of those summer storms that suddenly appear in a blue sky, with thunder and lightning galore, but gone just as quickly as it arrived.

-Flower: An amaryllis, both because of the legend/myth behind it and its actual meaning of determination and love.  I won’t bore you with a copy/paste of the story, but just know that it’s almost as dramatic as she is.

Nak’tah:

-Mythical Creature: All right, I know this is ironic because he’s a Tauren, but for real, a minotaur.  They can be symbolic of internal conflict and the struggle with one’s animal nature, which I think is a great parallel to Nak’s struggle with his life as a warrior and nothing more.

-Weather: April showers.  It may eventually give way to May flowers, but we’ll just have to see.  As of right now, it’s mostly rain and an annoying variation in temperatures from day to day.

-Flower: A foxtail lily, for endurance.  He’s just kept on trucking through all of the shit life has thrown at him (despite some close calls), and he’ll continue to do so.  It has to get better at some point, right?

Mathani:

-Mythical Creature: A Will-o’-the-wisp.  She’s hardly more than a ghost, and seems harmless at a glance, but if followed she’ll lead you far from safe paths.  OR, BECAUSE I’M INDECISIVE, a wraith, a mere shadow or ghost of who she once was, clinging to this world by a thread.

-Weather: The eerie calm during a tornado warning, when the air is a bit too still and your hair is standing on end.

-Flower: Bellwort.  It symbolizes hopelessness.  Enough said.

[bethabunnywrites]

Memory Ask Meme Ji - ❣️💙💔, Nak - 💘💟, Mathani - 💖💚

Ji-hing -

1. A memory that leaves them laughing. ~ I think this would be the way she met Akota. She certainly didn’t expect anyone to notice that she was reading a raunchy romance novel, much less comment on the shirtless tauren on the front. It was probably the most embarrassing moment of her life, at the time, but looking back she finds it hilarious.

2. A memory that makes them cry. ~ When she very nearly lost Akota. Flipping through every book on herbs and healing she had, her hair falling in her face because she couldn’t be bothered to take the seconds away from her efforts to tie it up again, the knot in her stomach that at least kept her from needing to eat during the whole mess. It frightened her more than anything else in her life ever had, and it still hurts her to think about.

3. A memory that leaves them feeling lonely. ~ After a year or two of that only child life, Ji quickly found herself sharing a room with, oh, half a dozen sisters and cousins. Of course they fought constantly, favorite blankets and hair ties would go missing, but every now and then they would have a night of peace and get along well with one another. The night before Ji left for training was one of those, with all of the girls talking of silly things like the sorts of boys (or girls) she might meet, insisting that she do something nicer with her hair just in case, and mostly getting in some quality time before they lost the eldest of their lot. She really can’t handle sleeping in a room alone, now.

Nak'tah -

1. A memory that gets their heart pounding. ~ His first kiss, without a doubt. The guy is long gone, and he can barely even remember where they were or how it came about, but he certainly remembers the butterflies and soft lips and feeling kind of dizzy? And being entirely overwhelmed in the best of ways.

2. Wildcard!!! A memory that leaves them feeling lonely. ~ The first time that he realized that his family wasn’t coming to save him. The entire trip with the slavers, he was certain that they would be there at any moment to bring him back home, but after the first day he was handed an axe and thrown into the arena, reality began to sink in. He curled up in a ball and cried and cried, but it became quickly apparent that it wasn’t going to do a damn thing to help him. I suppose you could say he has some issues trusting people, now.

Mathani -

1. A memory that made them feel special. ~ You know, I let this one in particular stew in my brain overnight. I thought about writing something from far in her past to put here, but at this point in her life she’s blocked all of that out. So, I’m going to take the easy but accurate route, here, and say that there isn’t one.

2. A memory that makes them feel guilty. ~ That would easily be the loss of her family. It was one of the few times that they weren’t making a family day of taking their produce to trade, so she mounted their kodo alone and ended up being the only one spared in the Cataclysm. That final goodbye, insisting to the kids that they stay with their father and do their chores instead of coming along with her, just this once…

[bethabunnywrites]

Character Heights

Malayeh Bloodroar: 10'4" (she big) Nak'tah Longhoof: 8'6" Pay'ashe Gloomfeather: 8'2" Zihna Gloomfeather: 7'8" Bahuurra Breezestrider: 7'3" Yurthelle Morimaker: 5'5" Ji-Hing Firebreeze: 5' (she smol)

[bethabunnywrites]

Nak’tah Longhoof

The tall, broad bull that stands before you has clearly spent most of his short life in battle.  Bulky muscles ripple throughout his young frame, and his face looks as if he would not know how to smile.  If one were to somehow see him without his armor, their eyes would immediately be drawn to the scars riddling his pale brown fur as if he were a target dummy reincarnated.  His fur is patchy and rough due to the sheer amount of scars running through it, and he seems almost self conscious of it.  He rarely speaks unless he has a damned good reason to do so, and rarely does he find such a reason.

His armor tends to be simple and practical plate, patched and worn as if it has not been replaced in many years, and he favors a two handed axe that shows the wear and tear of a treasured but well-used heirloom.  If he is wearing a cloak, there is a chill in the air - he has no time nor patience for bravado.  His silver eyes are always calculating and analytical, suggesting intelligence behind the gruff demeanor.

He keeps his mane unceremoniously braided, and his beard clipped close more from necessity than for aesthetic.  His horns are long and unbroken, and his fur short and coarse.  If you were to somehow see him without his armor, you would notice his torso and limbs nearly covered in scars from what might appear to be the training of a fighter, or a gladiator.

He will not speak of his past, and may become angry if questioned extensively.  Tread carefully.

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Best of luck getting him to talk about it.  Anything you would know, you would have heard as a rumor from someone else.

(You may know him if you served on the Mor’shan Rampart Cata-MoP, or in Wor’var during early WoD.  He’s currently stationed in Thunder Totem))