Note: Sollers is the average saber tiger skin (Orange and Black stripes) If you want a WMV and gear list for Rezza, feel free to PM me or i'll just post below. Thanks for reading. <3
A bolt of orange and black fur raced towards me. The ground shook as the four powerful paws of a great beast hit the earth. My heart jumped as I prepared for what was to come. Two green eyes peered at me from across the field, and two massive fangs rested in the gaping mouth of a rushing tiger.
Impact.
I fell backwards into a soft patch of brush, and the beautiful, loving saber placed his paws on my chest. I was greeted by the friendly flicks of a sandpaper tongue as I placed my hands on the sides of his great striped head. He growled contently and flicked his tail across my legs. With one sharp whistle and a quick nuzzle, he hopped off of my tiny, mail armor adorned body. My beast obeyed with no hesitation. He always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. Grabbing my bow, I hopped up with great haste as my companion darted to my right. Lined up in formation, he crouched low in the grass. My eyes scanned the field. Suddenly, the grass at the far end moved slightly. A small white tail showed itself above the tall grass.
I held up my head. No wind.
Raising my bow, I looked towards the great cat. Still crouching, he moved stealthily through the grass, making sure to always keep track of me. I closed one eye, raised my smooth maple bow, and took aim. It was strong and sturdy in the hands of an experienced hunter. Slowly, I raised it, without making any sharp movements. The saber waited patiently for his mark. I drew an arrow from my black leather quiver. The white feathers ruffled gently as I positioned it on the bow and pulled it back. With one deep breath, I contracted my core and clicked my jaw. Suddenly, the beast took off running and an elder antelope raised his head at the other end of the field. Before it could even make a move, I let my arrow fly. I watched the ceremonial feathers rustle as it sliced through the thick summer air. It struck directly in the chest.
My tiger sprung up from the towering grass out of nowhere, and quickly launched himself onto the now suffering antelope. Showing all of his skill and ability in one hunt was always a prominent trait he possessed, even when it wasn’t completely necessary. Swiftly, he took down the prey and sunk his sharp fangs into the animal’s neck, and the struggle of the antelope ceased. I let fourth a sharp whistle. Automatically, my companion picked up his kill, and gently dragged it back to his master. I grinned and greeted him warmly. Inspecting our catch, I praised my tiger and ran my fingers through the thick fur of his neck. I could feel every muscle of the great hulking beast, strong and proud as any good hunter pet should be. Carefully, I grabbed the shaft of my arrow and withdrew it from the carcass, cleaned it with a scrap of fabric from the side of my quiver, and deposited it back with the others inside the handcrafted pouch on my back. Gently, I picked up the antelope and swung it over my shoulders. My tiger followed alongside me, excited to be returning home after a good night’s hunt.
The sun created a visage in the sky, more respectable than any art I had ever come across in my days of travel. My bow was held at my side by my grip, and my cat was held close to my heart. He seemed to know it, as he would occasionally brush his tail against my thigh as we walked. Seeing the sun was setting, I knew that we needed to make haste, even with the radiant orange glow that shimmered across the sky that seemed to stretch on forever. No lone hunter should be out in the Barrens after dark. Suddenly, my beast growled with uneasiness. I stopped and scanned the horizon, and I tensed my grip over my bow. I heard a rustle in the bushes behind me. My tiger launched itself into the brush, as I was struck abruptly with a sharp pain in my left shoulder. I fell to my knees and roared in pain. The sun disappeared over the skyline. I lay alone in the middle of the savanna, not knowing what was to come, or if I would even make it to see daylight once more.
I awoke to the foul stench of blood on my skin. As I tried to recuperate my senses, I patted the ground in search of my bow. It was gone. I still lay underneath the great tree from the night before. I tried desperately to stand up. Clumsily, I gained my footing and searched for my tiger. Scanning the area, I noticed a lot of things that littered the ground that I had no memory of seeing last night. Hunter traps, cages, swords, tents. Foreign objects that looked not to be crafted by any of the orcs, tauren, or trolls that made home of the Barrens. Embers of a burnt out fire still smoldered in small pits around the camp. My heart began to beat like a drum…
What if they had taken my tiger?
My thoughts flashed back to the day I became a Huntress. In order to be truly a master of my craft, I was required at a young age to craft a bow, and tame my companion. I took a six-day unaccompanied journey to the dangerous Ashenvale to craft my bow out of one of the towering maple trees so sought after by the Orcs. Rumored to have a hint of magic which ran through the soil from the world tree, the wood was priceless. I chose carefully and crafted it using every bit of my training and knowledge. My quiver was passed down to me by my mother, and my arrows were crafted from the trees at home on the Echo Isles. After I returned, I was greeted by the other hunters of my tribe, and I was told I was now ready to tame my beast.
Most Trolls went out into Durotar or the Echo Isles to seek a beast to call their own, but my journey was just a little different. I caught the quickest zeppelin I could to Stranglethorn Vale. Before I tamed my beast, I wanted a glimpse of my savage heritage. I wandered the seemingly endless jungle, searching for the infamous Zul’Gurub. There, it was rumored, was a hidden empire of Zulian trolls, kept wild and savage for ages, trained their new generations the same bloodthirsty way they did for the past thousand years. To this day, I still wonder why I was so fixated on catching a glimpse before I went off on my own journey. It was dangerous for a young troll to be alone in Stranglethorn Vale, nevermind seeking such a savage horde of brutes. As I wandered through the jungle, holding my newly crafted bow, I couldn’t help but look at all of the strange beasts I’d never been told about before. Hulking crocolisks, strange apes, and even panthers were all around me. I strayed far away as not to attract any of them. The elder hunters told me I would feel a special connection with my lifelong beast, which I certainly was not feeling with any of these inhabitants. I wandered the jungle for hours, not seeing one statue or trace of the Zulian trolls. With a sigh, I sauntered on. I reached a river, and went down for a drink. I kneeled down alongside the crystal waters, cupped my hands, and took down a cool, refreshing gulp. Beads of water dripped down my tusks. I was curious why the other Trolls didn’t like it here. I felt so at home.
I heard a growl from the bushes behind me. Two green eyes peered curiously out of the bright shrubs, taking in every move I made. I froze. I tensed my grip on my bow, and prepared to shoot. My hand moved back to my quiver. I withdrew an arrow, and pulled back the bow string. The green eyes did not blink. With much hesitation, I stood up and slowly walked closer. The beast flinched, and two massive paws revealed themselves from the brush. They were beautifully patterned in a bright orange complimented by black stripes. The eyes still stared at me. I took a deep breath, and slowly placed my bow on the ground. The tiger took a step closer so his head and torso was out of the bushes. I took one step back, and the beast lingered even closer. The eyes watched me still, and I began to grow fond of the way the beast looked at me, like he wanted something but didn’t know what. I looked down at the ground and lowered my head. When I looked back up, the tiger was at my feet. I slowly reached out a hand, and touched his great head. The beast lay down slowly and closed his eyes. I ran a hand down his neck and over his muscular shoulders. His fur was riddled with mud and debris, but even so, still absolutely stunning to me. His large fangs rested in his upper jaw.
Another rustle behind me.
I turned around, swiftly, and my new friend stood up hastily. There, behind us, stood a hulking black panther. It roared menacingly and sprinted in my direction. I grabbed my bow off the ground and withdrew an arrow. The tiger stood defensively to my right. I pulled the arrow back, took a deep breath, tensed my core, and let it fly. The panther lunged, but so did the tiger. The panther feel to the ground, as my arrow pierced his shoulder. The tiger leapt on top of him, claws retracted and fangs bore. The struggle was futile. Growls and roars echoed across the jungle, and the two beasts fought tooth and claw for survival. I withdrew another arrow to help my protector, but I recoiled in fear I would miss my target and hit him. It seemed to go on for hours. With every groan of pain that arose from either of the two cats, I cringed and shut my eyes. Finally, the roars ceased. I heard a corpse hit the ground. I quickly opened my eyes and saw the victor come trotting triumphantly towards me. A smile crossed my lips. My new companion flicked his tail against my thigh. We sat by the edge of the river and watched the moon reflect over the water. Stroking his head, I nuzzled against him. “Sollers,” I murmered. Strength, in a foreign tongue.
In the Barrens, I desperately wanted to see Sollers. Without him, I did not feel whole. We had trained together and adventured as one for the past few years. We had a lifelong bond that demonstrated a good duo of hunter and pet. I tried to move slowly, murmuring his name under my breath and clicking my jaw. I heard a growl of desperation. Seeing the camp was empty, I began to run. I searched for any sign of my saber with no hesitation. Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks. There, caged and hurt, Sollers waited patiently for his huntress. I ran to the cage and tore at the bars. My shoulder ached from my recent wound. He slowly arose and licked my face. I smoothed back my green hair, and futilely pulled at the strong iron bars once more until I could barely stand. Quickly, I ran and picked up a large rock off the ground, ran back, and hit the bars with all my might. They began to weaken. Again and again I struck, determined to break my companion free. After an hour of banging, one bar crumbled. Sollers hopped out of his confine and nuzzled me until I fell onto my back. I hugged him tightly and scanned the area for my bow and quiver. My wound was bleeding profusely, and I was dizzy and exhausted, but at least I had my tiger back. Then, I heard a war cry and the thundering of hooves….
