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.

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!

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."

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.

Ring giveaway!

Remember the totally sweet druid ring I mentioned? It's made by Tesh of Tish Tosh Tesh and available from Tish Tosh Tesh Toys via the Shapeways website. I said before that I am getting a replacement in another material, which means that I have a lovely spare ring to give away!

You want this thing!

The color compared to a silver ring.

The full story is that I ordered the ring in stainless steel, thinking I wouldn't have a reaction to the metal despite having sensitivities to copper and nickel. However, Shapeways coats their stainless steel pieces in a bronze mixture, which gave me a nasty discolored rash. I (will be) getting a replacement ring in silver, so one of you can have this ring for free!

It's a ladies US size 9 (do some googling or have a jeweler at the mall measure you). I will mail it to you (possibly with a letter! I might even include some  Japanese snacks!). It costs you nothing - although I will graciously accept any donations of brownie mix :P

Yeah! Take this thing from me!

I realize that there's probably a very small population of people who want a slim, size 9 resto druid leaf/moon pattern ring and aren't sensitive to copper/bronze, so please help me spread the word by retweeting and linking! And if this isn't your size or spec but you're interested in druid gear, get thee to Tesh's page on Shapeways and order your own :D

Resto druids! Free ring!

The Leatherworkers [Tier 1]

"First round's on me," the orc said firmly, signaling the bartender. Her wooden stool creaked under the weight of thick muscles as she shifted into a more comfortable sprawl. Having washed the pungent Zangarmarsh mud from herself - and her clothes - the orc now wore a thin linen shirt, soft leather breeches, and simple boots. A thick silver chain disappeared down the front of her shirt. At her belt was a coin purse and an unassuming dagger, but anyone interested in the first would notice the second. In conjunction with the corded muscles visible at her neck and forearms, a prospective thief would think twice.

Her companion was similarly attired. The tauren had rebraided his mane into two plaits clinking with silver and clay beads, and now wore a coarse shirt, mostly unlaced to accommodate his barrel chest, and loose breeches that ended below his knees. In addition to a coin purse and plain dagger, he carried a wooden mace with his clan's sigil carved along the handle. He didn't take that mace to work, but he liked to carry it when they were off duty.

Their drinks arrived. The orc raised hers to her partner before taking a satisfying swallow of the lager. They both sighed with pleasure. For a moment, they listened in silence to the sounds of the fire in the tavern hearth, the soft clink of tankards, and the murmur of many conversations. A troll woman's throaty laugh suddenly rang out.

"So how did you become a leatherworker, anyway?" the tauren asked, drumming on his glass. "I know you were a warrior at some point before that."

The orc rubbed a calloused hand across her smooth scalp. Tiny scars stood out white across her green knuckles. "I was injured. I broke both my legs in a skirmish and had to be evacuated to Orgrimmar for healing." She stuck out a leg, turning it left and right as if admiring it. The leather of her breeches stretched and strained. "The healing worked, but I couldn't walk for some time," she continued. "While I was recovering, I got roped into helping my neighbor with his work."

The tauren raised an eyebrow. "You? Get talked into something you didn't want to do?"

"Keep in mind that they had me dosed on all kinds of herbal wines. A shaman even came by once a week to do voodoo on the pain." The tauren snorted appreciatively. "Besides, I was going stircrazy missing the battlefield. I needed the distraction."

"All right," the tauren allowed. "I take it your neighbor was a leatherworker." He watched the orc drain her glass and signaled for another round, adding, "My turn."

She inclined her head in thanks. "He was, in fact, a leatherworker, a big bull specializing in druid leathers. His daughter was a druid. Probably still is, but I only met her once before her dad died. Anyway, he started me on simple tasks: stitching, branding, pattern-making. Things I could do sitting down. Every morning I would wheel myself to his workshop and spend the daylight cutting out pieces for pauldrons or strips of belt, stitching leggings, or affixing hides to bucklers."

The tauren nodded. He had done similar tasks in his apprenticeship, although he had also been set to more physically demanding work. Of course, he could also stand without difficulty.

"Eventually, he trusted me enough to do more serious pieces of armor. I don't know if you remember the style at the time-" he shook his head "-but druids wore a quilted, fire resistant robe. He would set me up with the specially tanned and cured hide and a bag of stuffing - enchanted, of course - and I would quilt."

A quiet huff pulled the orc's attention to her partner. The tauren was hunched over the bar, holding back what sounded suspiciously like giggles. She tried to glare, but eventually gave in and began to chuckle. This only encouraged the tauren, who threw his head back and began to laugh in earnest. Soon, they were leaning against each other helplessly, shaking with mirth.

"Qu-quilting!" the tauren gasped. "A war hero - quilting!"

The orc responded with a guffaw and tried to calm herself. "Not really my style, is it?" she choked out between giggles.

"Not even close!" He wiped tears from his eyes. "I mean, my grandfather was a tailor, and I watched him quilt and loom, and I can't see you doing that without tearing the cloth or snapping the needle!"

"Remember, I was medicated!" She regained her composure with effort. "And when I could do that well enough, he started letting me affix the rest of the armor, which at the time was mostly a handful of foliage. Somehow, the druids enchanted the leaves and twigs to stay green, and even with my clumsy handiwork they looked like they were growing naturally out of the leather."

The tauren swirled his ale thoughtfully. "That sounds familiar, at least. So, how did you move from assembling to gathering?"

The orc stood and clapped her companion on one broad shoulder. "Patience! I'm going to the little orc's room. Order me another pint, and I'll tell you." She left with a smirk, and the tauren turned to the barkeep.

The Leatherworkers [Tier 13]

“This is just ridiculous,” grumbled the orc, dropping her trowel in the mud. Her gloves were coated in a thick, stinking layer of algae and mud, as was her entire lower half.

“You know how particular druids are,” replied her companion. “Always looking for new ways to commune with nature.” He continued to dig in the mud.

“Yes, but mushrooms? From the Outlands?” She peered at one of the fist-sized, glowing blue fungi she had extricated from the marshy lakebed. “They don't look so special to me.”

“Eat one and find out,” suggested the tauren. He only laughed when the orc flicked mud at him. “What I wanna know,” he said, sitting back on his heels and gesturing with his trowel,” is how they incorporate the plant matter into the leather so that it changes when the druids shapeshift.”

The orc stabbed into the mud, rooting for another mushroom. “Whatever it is, it's more magic than I could muster. That's why I'm just a gatherer.”

The tauren waded into the shallows to wash off the mushrooms he had collected. He exchanged them with the orc, who handed him her haul to rinse while she wrapped the cleaned mushrooms in waxed cloth.

The orc swung the bundle on her back. “Let's go check the trap.”

They set off across the perpetually damp, spongy ground, weaving among the comically tall mushroom trees and glowing foliage. As they approached the clearing where they had set the trap that morning, the tauren motioned for the orc to hang back, then snuck on ahead.

Although the tauren was taller and wider than her, the orc was again struck with how quietly he could move. It was with roguelike, almost delicate steps that he crept to the edge of the clearing to check on their quarry.

The tauren motioned the orc forward, and she went to his side. In the clearing was a sporebat, placidly eating from the mound of food they had set and completely missing the fact that it was now entangled in their trap. The orc readied her materials – a pouch of soft, rubbery material and a length of cord.

Before the sporebat could register what was happening, the tauren had grabbed it and deftly flipped it upside down. At his companion's questioning look, he explained, “It makes them sleepy.” True to his word, the panicked thrashing soon resided into minute tremors. The orc took hold of the sporebat's twin tails and held them over the open mouth of her pouch.

“Let 'er rip,” she instructed the tauren. He began to tickle the sporebat on the glowing sphere of its underbelly, and in response, glittering spores puffed out of its tail and into the waiting bag. “I'm curious as to how you discovered this...method,” the orc said conversationally, trying to keep a smirk off her face.

The tauren had moved on to the pointed tips of the sporebat's tiny wings. The spores changed color. “The locals keep sporebats as pets. Apparently they are quite ticklish.”

When the sporebat was all tickled out, the orc carefully closed the pouch and stowed it along with the mushrooms. The tauren righted the sporebat and gently cut it free of their trap, then fed it a cracker before it floated away.

The orc watched this with amusement, then summoned her wind rider, which gave her an appreciative sniff. “I could do with a shower and a drink, how about you?”

The Leatherworkers [Tier 12]

The tauren made a quiet whuffling sound in the back of his throat, which the orc recognized as a snore. They had been up very early for their first appointment, acquired after weeks of rituals, paperwork, and more rituals. The druids of Hyjal would sing wood for armor, if the leatherworker was dedicated enough to undergo long ceremonies praising and thanking the tree. The pair had done that, and finally been approved for the singing ceremony, which had taken place that morning while the sun rose.

It was a beautiful ceremony, the orc mused. Just time-consuming. The pair had waited awkwardly while a team of druids sang in the pre-dawn coolness. For a while, it had seemed as though nothing was happening. Then, bark began to peel away from the tree in thick strips to coil heavily at the druids' feet. When they finished singing, the leatherworkers had a formidable pile of bark, and the tree looked as though the bark had been removed weeks prior.

The druids had helped to pack the bark away after another lengthy ceremony, and then seen the leatherworkers off. And that wasn't even the hardest part of the day.

Their windriders touched down in a curious grove sporting a whirling portal to the Firelands. The orc nudged her companion awake, and he snorted. Together, they led their mounts through the portal and trudged to the steam geysers. The Firelands were oppressively hot, but they waited until they had reached their destination before donning their fire-resistant gear.

Thick aprons and gloves, a face cover, and long-handled tongs completed the ensemble. They flipped a coin to see who would go first. Sighing in defeat, the orc lowered her mask and grabbed the tongs. Several minutes later, she was gingerly holding a strip of bark over a bubbling vent. Every so often it would emit a bubble of noxious smelling gas. Soon, it began to pop and hiss, and the orc steeled herself.

"I hate this part," she whispered like a mantra. "I hate this part I hate this part I hate this-" the geyser erupted in a pillar of flame, charring the proffered bark. When it subsided, the bark glistened blackly, and the orc's flame-retardant gloves were on fire.

She roared wordlessly, and the tauren put out the fire in short order. She placed the still-smoking bark into a thick, inflammable bag, where it would remain hot until magically quenched and affixed to leather. That finished, she settled down to rub a cooling salve into her hands.

The tauren took up the tongs for the next piece. He decided to say nothing about his companion's missing eyebrows.

Gratuitous Post of Yourself (GPOY)

Time for a gratuitous Beko post! I mostly disappeared under a rock in August, but now that the weather is (slowly!) cooling off and I no longer feel physically compelled to watch the next episode of TNG (just kidding, and now I am also engrossed in BSG) I have been getting back into my WoW groove.

I actually started doing my dailies again, which means I finally finished up my Molten Front chunk of achievements and got my sweet new mount! I really wish you didn't have to do so many intro dailies just to get to the final stage each day. I just wanna help my birdie buddies! (By the by, did you know that if you jump off the edge near the Talon druids, they will catch you and fly you to the other side? Don't ask how I know this!)

ALTS

I am nearly finished leveling JC on my paladin, although it is someone hampered by the mountain of items I craft and then need to DE, AH, or straight up vendor. Now I'm scrounging for more blue WOTLK gems to push myself into Cata levels. I saved a lot of grief by having some honor lying around which I used to by patterns from Wintergrasp - although I did have to wait days for it to change hands. On my bank alt, I'm trying to keep up with my humble bag and pet business, which is a slow and steady sort of race. Especially when every other month or so some asshole crashes the netherweave bags market! I also have been wanting to play my mage, but since I'm so behind on the Goblin Journal entries, I'm holding off.

TRANSMOGRIFABULOUS

What an interesting and long-awaited development! It's definitely teamed up with Void Storage to cause me plenty of heartache. A guildie asked me what I would do with Beko's outfit; to be honest, I have no idea! I do have a fair amount of sets in my banks, lovingly collected and assembled into the most fashionable of druid leathers. But which to wear? Whatever I don't wear will likely go into storage along with my rare tabards and priceless artifacts. But, knowing me, I'll want to change my look more often, since I'll still be wearing my actual gear anyway. Then again, will I be able to appreciate the current tier's look if I cover it up with T3? DECISIONS. Even more troubling is the wealth of nontier gear sets available to me. There are so many blogs providing good resources and lists for gear. Too many options!!

The one thing I don't understand is the ban on legendaries. I get that legendaries are freaking hard to get. But so is grinding old gear! Most of my MC rep grind was done alongside gear and legendary chasers - we both spent a bajillion hours grinding various drops. I even helped them with other parts of questlines! So why can I show off my Cenarion duds, and the guy with Thunderfury has to leave it in the bank?

TIER 13

Speaking of tier gear. So I know that the inspiration this time around is "wear your new Cataclysm class spell." Unless of course you're a warrior in which case it's "look like a total fucking badass because YOU ARE DEATHWING." It's not that I think the spell being translated into gear is a bad idea, and in fact it could be a very awesome idea, but when you're compared to THE DESTROYER himself it comes up a little short. Warriors get to look like they ripped off Deathwing's armor plates and bolted them to their bodies, and druids look like they just got dug out of a lakebed in Zangarmarsh. I don't know. Tell me how to like this new tier!

HORSES...NOW WITH MORE ARMOR!

Worgen are getting some horses to ride! I guess that means they don't have to do that awkward hunched over running business anymore. I think you know how I feel about mounts, so I have no problem with this addition. I am a little disappointed in the model they used, however. Sure, worgen are former humans, but couldn't their horses be even a little different? Maybe I can finally get my worgen past level 13 and get her a mount too.

RAIDS

So it looks like I will still be missing Wednesday night, the first day of our weekly raiding schedule, due to scheduling conflicts. That sucks a lot, but at least I think I'll be able to make it to Thursday, Sunday, and Monday if everything works out. Having missed so many raid nights for the past few months has left me feeling a little overwhelmed with my character progression. Although I did take the time to make myself a gear list, I haven't been paying very close attention to it, so even when I finished my dailies grind I had to be reminded to check for gear upgrades. Bad Beko, no cookie. :( At least we are very close to downing Rags (having 2-shot Majordomo, which felt a little cheap to me) so hopefully I can be present for that.

The new raids, however, hnnnggg. The pictures look so ominous and amazing. I really love that we are returning to Northrend, especially since all of the changes to the world took place on Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor. Despite, you know, Northrend being part of Azeroth. A few bosses have pretty good backstory, as well. In Firelands I felt genuinely interested in Alysrazor, Staghelm, and Ragnaros, and all the other bosses were just fiery pixels with sweet loot. Reading the stories for the the new raid, however, I feel like a higher percentage have a good story or reason to be involved. I'm looking forward to doing the new heroics as well! (Nozdormu wants us to destroy a "mysterious dragon known as Murozond"? GEE WHATEVER COULD THAT MEAN)

One thing that feels unfinished, however is a final encounter with Neptulon in some capacity or another. So far, we have taken care of the air and fire elemental lords, and made an ally of the earth. We need some conclusion with water! Especially since the last time we saw him, he was being carried off for who knows what nefarious purposes! Maybe the Neptulon conclusion can be the awkward little raid that will be smushed in the downtime between Dragon Soul and the next expansion.

DARKMOON FAIRE

OMG. YOU GUYS. First off, I expect a bottle of champagne and some complimentary minipets the moment I get to the Faire, due to my exceptional relationship with Darkmoon. I'm so so glad they decided to expand this fun little flavor event. The Faire always seemed like this random, forgotten event that cropped up every once in a while and was important to the small percentage of people who either want to go Insane or get their fleeting BiS trinket. Now, there will hopefully be more intriguing and consistent reasons to visit, and it's fun carny atmosphere can last all year round!

The Leatherworkers [Tier 11]

Crouched behind a prickly bush, the orc shifted with a grace surprising for her bulk. "'How much worse could it get?' he had to ask," she grumbled to herself as she moved quietly. A nettle poked into her side. Blowing out a soft breath, she tried to settle into stillness again.

Across the clearing, her companion was just barely visible as a dark shadow in a small cluster of shrubs. He was much closer to the trap they had set. The meat had long since begun to collect flies, and the fruit stank unapologetically. Fortunately, despite the sun, the upper reaches of Mount Hyjal remained cool even in summer.

Minutes passed. The orc was slowly stretching a limb cramped from hours of waiting when she first heard the shuffling in the trees. After more scritching and snuffling, an enormous bird entered the clearing and went curiously to the pile of food. Neither of the leatherworkers moved as it circled the offering, sniffed appreciatively, and began to eat.

The first time the orc had seen this kind of bird, she had laughed despite herself. Completely land-bound, with stubby wings on an enormous body, and two long, powerful legs, the bird was quite a sight. It was prized for its lovely - and more importantly - magical blue feathers. This one had not been plucked in quite a while and looked relatively normal. The orc kept her face grim, remembering the feel of the bird's foot cracking into her ribs as she cackled helplessly that first time.

Suddenly, the tauren exploded out of his hiding place, armed with ropes to net and truss their quarry. The orc sprang into action as well, helping him wrestle the bird to the ground and tie knots. After several breathless minutes, the tauren was sitting securely astride the subdued creature, which was hissing and scrabbling ineffectually with its claws. Even with his steel-enforced leather gloves, the tauren kept his hands well behind the creature's snapping beak.

"Now for the fun part," the orc said dryly. She reached across the tauren, separating the silken feathers. After a moment, she selected one, held her breath, and gave a sharp tug.

The bird squawked indignantly and began thrashing anew. The tauren rode this out patiently, checked the ropes were not fraying, and kept the head under control. The orc was already looking for another suitable feather. Another tug, another squabble. An hour passed before the orc had enough feathers for one piece. She sat back on her heels and exhaled, but stood and began gathering her materials when she saw the miserable tauren still astride the equally miserable bird.

The feathers were pressed carefully between two oiled strips of cloth, then wrapped awkwardly in a stiff leather roll. This she slung on her back before summoning her mount - a harnessed wind rider trailing a curious sling. The orc draped the sling around her companion and tightened the securing straps. She climbed onto the mount before asking, "Ready?"

He merely grunted, and she guided the wind rider into a low hover. The straps to the sling pulled taut, and the tauren grunted again as he was awkwardly tugged up and down. "Hate this part," he muttered, and began to saw tiny cuts into the rope. Immediately, the bird resumed struggling, snapping several restraints. "Getting the head..." he called, then quickly slashed the primary restraint and threw himself away from the bird. At the same time, the orc spurred the wind rider up, and it lifted both from harm's way. Incensed, the bird sprang to its feet and snapped at them as they skimmed above the trees.

The tauren bellowed in irritation and shouted, "It clipped my hoof!"

Day 18: My favorite outfit

This is the next day in Saga of Spellbound's 20 days of...WoW blogging challenge. You can find more participants here.

Catch up on Day 17: My favorite spot

Most of my favorite inspirations come from tier, specifically because it is designed to match and evoke a certain image. I'm not super familiar with other matching sets, but I do have a certain fondness for the Twill set. My DK-banker sports 8/8 full Twill and a Diamond-Tipped Cane. /flex epeen

Akabeko has the following druid sets:

Thunderheart

Cenarion

Feralheart

Genesis

Nightsong

Lately I have really liked druid tier; even Lasherweave grew on me (although that helm...eehhhh). T12 is the first in a while that made me say wow, what? The helm looks like a dog cone (obligatory worgen joke), and it's incredibly drab, neither fiery nor green.

Go to Day 19: The Things Aka Carried