Ferocious Inspiration

Within the hush of the looming twilight, the bright sun begins it’s covert retirement into the horizon. The dancing shades of coral and gold waltz tranquilly with the impending dusk as it flickers eloquently on the trees and mountains of Bloodmyst Isle.

In amongst the labyrinth of trees and hills, an elegant and statuesque Draenei Hunter steadies her crossbow. Hidden stealthily behind an ancient stone, she aims strategically at an Elder Brown Bear lumbering through a nearby meadow. She momentarily pauses, wistfully thinking of her beloved Shaman beau, training afar at the Exodar. She’d rarely attempted any expeditions without him by her side.

The hunter's eager sidekick, a translucent pearl white saber. Remaining still, he salivates with anticipation of the impending meal, loyally awaiting the kill command from his beloved master.

Steadying her shot, pulse racing, the hunter begins her quest by firing unrestrained at her prey.

The arrow narrowly grazes the bear's chest, missing the critical strike. Alarmed and angry, the bear turns, now charging his aggressor. The novice hunter quickly releases her eager pet to prevent the beast from ravaging her. The loyal young cat is brave and fierce, but is no match for the immense, vicious bear. The young saber stumbles and falls, lying helplessly in the meadow.

Abandoning the wounded cat, the bear turns and furiously charges at the young hunter, who has frantically been firing her weapon to no avail. Flailing her sword wildly at the beast seems now only to be in vain.

The Draenei, now realizing the errors of her ways, turns and desperately attempts to run from her impending death. Her hooves tremble beneath her, beads of sweat bleed precariously down her lavender brow. Her glowing silver eyes sting with tears of regret as she curses herself for not heeding the wise advice of the elder hunters of her tribe.

The bear’s paws pound forcefully along the terrain, occasionally swiping his large claws at the petrified Draenei. Just as it is within reach of thrashing the young hunter's delicate leather bodice, an enormous and ferocious red cat bursts boldly and magnificently through some nearby bushes.

The crimson beast growls and lowers his head with intimidation, strategically taunting and distracting the bear from the Draenei. Swiftly he begins an assault on the bear with the precision and prowess of a trained assassin.

Bewildered, the frightened Draenei quickly seeks shelter beside a nearby cave, glancing sadly at her painfully injured saber lying helplessly on the ground.

She observes in awe the advanced fighting techniques and talents of the huge crimson feline, provoking and clawing the bear with flawless delivery.

Then, from above her, on the side of the mountain, a gunshot could be heard echoing triumphantly through the cool air. She turns her head toward the shot and sees a stout and sturdy red-bearded Dwarf, firing at the bear with such agility and ease of effort. Immediately she is amazed at his flawless and masterful predatory skills. Gaping at his astonishing weapons and armor, she realizes with disbelief the identity of this lone gladiator.

Was this the legendary red-bearded Dwarf of Dun Morogh? Her people had often told tales of an epic lone hunter and his feline companion that morphs into a large, red tank when angered. It was rumored that the duo were to have soloed all the lands of Azeroth, unmatched in talent and spirit. Killing evil elites effortlessly where ever he dared to tread.

He relentlessly fires his longrifle at the raging beast. Within mere moments, the great bear staggers clumsily and falls pitifully to his death, releasing one final exhausted growl as he succumbs.

The Dwarf leaps gracefully from his perch on the mountainside, his cat returning quickly and faithfully to his side. His war axe clinging proudly to his back. Removing his chain helm, he respectfully approaches the crouching Draenei, smiles kindly and offers her his hand. She warily accepts and stands.

For the rest of the evening, they sit around a campfire, eating bear stew and drinking heartily. He tells amazing tales of terrifying instances and raids in far distant lands. His voice booming as he recounts battles with enormous monsters in the black depths of the underworld. Then, quietly and tenderly speaking of his loving wife back home in Dun Morogh.

Telling tales well into the night, he offered the young, inexperienced hunter precious insights into the craft of hunting, which she graciously accepts from the wise, old master.

The heat of the campfire barely reaches the great slumbering cat, his large, muscular body resting contentedly after a hard day’s battle. His paws tinged red from the recent onslaught, he purrs peacefully, dreaming of glorious future crusades. His chain collar flickers hypnotically along with the dance of the flames of the campfire. Imprinted on a small truesilver tag, an affectionate inscription can faintly be read, “Big Red Kitty”.