How kind of the Darkmoon Faire!

They provided us a litter-box!

Druid Chorus: "Lip Sync" Video

We didn't start the fire.

I greatly enjoyed this video for some reason. I think it's a cute idea :)



I found myself mouthing along at the chorus with the druid trio. So you can sing along too, lyrics:


Druid Chorus:
We didn't start the fire
It was always burnin'
Since the world's been turnin'
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

Transmog: My Chosen Fashioncraft

I'm really enjoying the transmogrification feature of 4.3. While the "showing off" factor of sporting heroic t12 made me smirk when puggers dropped their jaws at their healer's gear, I didn't really like the look of it, and most of your time is spent in a mashup of mixed-color gear anyway while you work through bosses.

Now, I can at least match my gear to look like I am not a kindergartner who has insisted on dressing all by herself (the kind that wants to wear rain galoshes and a football helmet)... or completely forego the tier model and avoid looking like I'm decaying (t13 mushrooms). Instead... I am dressing as sailor moon with bird wings!

There have been elements of previous tier gear that I really liked, and revisiting their appearance, even in a mashup of tiers and expansions, is fun!

• Hat: Conqueror's Nightsong Headpiece (Ulduar)
• Shoulders: Passive Resistor Spaulders (BWD heroic)
• Chest: Obsidian Arborweave Raiment (Firelands normal)
• Gloves: Obsidian Arborweave Handwraps (Firelands normal)
• Belt: Firescar Sash (Firelands vendor)
• Legs: Kilt of Immortal Nature (Black Temple)
• Staff: Staff of the Plague Beast (WotLK Naxx) - I like the bit of Celtic design to it
  

Haven't decided yet what I will do when I pick up the spellpower dagger and offhand, but I like this look :) My alts, alas, don't have near as much gear to pick and choose between.

Shh...

Care of Ketheres, the undead deathknight I am always trying to keep from revisiting death (again). He'd be the sleepy one.



Too funny not to spread.

Surprises from the Sky

I have a bad habit of procrastinating more and more, the longer I am away from something. I keep telling myself "I need to take the time to write a post" and "there's nothing really keeping me from writing another post" and yet... days kept slipping by. I even had ideas, I just didn't seem to be able to get up the willpower to drop my other distractions and actually sign into blogger to share them.

Bad Kae.

Well, this morning I got the proverbial kick-start, in the form of an unguilded death knight dropping down on my head in the far corner of the world.

"Kae! :D "

I was out in Silithus at the time, having just finished collecting a survey node out in those horrible ruins full of poor, tormented druid NPCs, during my seemingly never-ending quest to make Tyrande's doll. I tilt my head slightly at the new arrival, mousing over her (female character), guessing that she must be one of my guildies' alts. Especially when she announces she has gifts for me. I have guildies drop me basilisk livers and potions at unexpected times. And an unguilded alt may just be passing me herbs or something to dump in the guild bank. All reasonable guesses, right?

I was wrong in my guess. He was Sakaki of Azgalor, author of Tree Sproutling, come along with some shiny gifts just because he felt like saying hi to me.

Stalker. *heart*

This was probably the best possible incentive to get me to sign into blogger and make a post. Thank you, Sakaki, for the minipet, for the dress, and for the motivation, even if it was unintentional! Was great to meet you :D

Two Weeks of Crazy

Incoming long ramble. It's been a while since I've posted, so I'm giving fair warning :)

I have greatly enjoyed my resto druid in Cataclysm. She has her strengths and weaknesses, as I have found, and they've led me to feeling rather happy with her as she provides a challenge for me. The weaknesses, of course, provide some entertaining lessons of their own.


CC, lol.
Healers have very low if any +hit. Avoid promising any CC to the party if you value your health bar. If you absolutely MUST use CC (because of running with a group of, oh, 3 warriors and a deathknight) then get your hots rolling on the tank before attempting to root/hibernate/cyclone/whatever! Or the tank will keel over dead because you were too busy running around screaming with your CC target chomping on your tail.

So, avoid being assigned CC as a healer. Of course, you can still use CC if you have the mana and time to spare... I find a quick cyclone can tie up a wildly swinging melee mob and give the tank's health bar a breather while DPS focus-fire down another mob.

Ultimately, though, my most-used CC has been Nature's Grasp. I have it bound to a mouse button in a lovely little barkskin+grasp macro that pops me 3 chances to root an offending melee mob that is trying to nom my furry hide. Yes, tanks should be rescueing their healer, or even a friendly helpful DPS with their own CC, but sometimes they're busy or distracted or dead or have things on cooldown because you know what? Heroics are hard. Or, sometimes, they're just blind idiots. Regardless, it's a CC I've found I want very quick access to.


AoE Healing?
...is no longer our forte. Wild Growth has a monstrous cooldown, and Tranquility's is even longer. Swiftmend has a cooldown for its use and subsequent green puddle of aoe healing, but the puddle itself is insufficient for healing more than a sliver of health at current gear levels.

...and ToL
Treeform has become my "OMG RAID HEALS NAO" cooldown as I then spread lifebloom across the raid like a rampant infestation of kudzu. If I need to pop treeform to begin rolling lifebloom on two tanks, I try to time it to coincide with an early point of a boss fight where I can make use of that extra lifebloom love I can share with the raid. Like with the Ascendant Council when Fluvi-whasisface starts novaing and for some reason beyond my comprehension we don't interrupt it immediately. I should probably go look up why we don't immediately interrupt the first cast, but I've been busy so I'll just type out here a note to myself to go look at it later. ;)

I do enjoy that we can roll lifebloom on multiple targets after ToL ends, by refreshing one or another with HT/Nourish. What I do not like is when my nourish cast, in an attempt to refresh it on said tank, is interrupted or fails due to the tank running out of range, or due to some giant monster leaping through the air and landing on my head, only to send me flying across the room as though I were a gnome to be punted. I think that this particular circumstance is a racial punishment brought down by the evil gnome overlords in vengeance against tauren kind.


Mana.
Mana mana. Doo doo, de doo doo. Yes, mana is an issue, and as Scythe so adequately described it to me, healer mana has become the raid's built-in enrage timer. If the tank pulls while I'm drinking back at the last trash pack, I usually let them die. If I go completely OOM, I have been known to run around bandaging players.

If anyone is taking unnecessary damage, I think it's okay to let them die or yell at them to pop cooldowns, healthstones, potions, bandages, etc. Or to, I dunno, GET OUT OF THE FIRE. Or maybe move when a debuff says you should move or you'll die horribly: is red light, green light really that difficult of a game?? Or when there's a flayer sitting there clawing wildly at the air and people think he's gonna give them a nice facial rather than attempt to julienne their bodies into dinner. Even tanks can move out of that, you know.


Pug Tank Egos.
....ugh. Okay, here's the scenario: guild group of DPS + healer, all with Bane of the Fallen King titles, gets a pug tank. My guildies know to CC when given a mark or directions, but this particular tank seems to think he can take everything. Mind, we're all in varying levels of blues as is the tank, and this is Heroic Grim Batol with massive packs of easily CCable targets, and have the CC available to use. So he runs in, nearly dies on the first few pulls, bitches about "Don't be Bad" when he looses aggro on things because he's got terrible threat (ahem, when healer gets aggro on things), and I sit down to drink after a pull. I say, "mana." He crosses the bridge and pulls one of the hardest roaming trash packs in the first hallway while I'm drinking down the hall at half mana.

You can imagine where this leads. I scurry across with my half mana and quickly try to save him with my limited healing cooldowns and getting hots rolling on him, while he's not using a single one of his tank cooldowns, and then, predictably, he dies from massive amounts of raw damage. He sighs and the group wipes and we start running back, DPSers beginning to suggest maybe we should CC something? His response: "Heal more. Stop being bad."

Me: "O_o ...you're joking, right?"
Him: "Not really."

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I growl, literally, and initiate a vote-kick on the tank.

Unfortunately, the vote-kick tool may have somehow bugged, as it didn't give my fellow guidlies a chance to vote before it "failed" and went away. We're all in vent together at the time, and I simply said, "I am not putting up with this tank," and I left the party. I suggested they leave, too. We could find another tank. In fact, one of our guild tanks offered then to fill in for us.

Meanwhile, back in the party (I am hearing this over vent), the dpsers told the tank he shouldn't be pissing off his healers. His response, as I hear, was that "You guys can leave too, I don't care. I'm not the one with the 40-minute queue." Obviously, he missed the fact that they were queuing WITH the healer, who had a maybe 3-minute queue. Oblivious ego tank is oblivious. The DPS then vote-kick the offending tank from the party; this time it is able to actually be voted upon, and the tank is swiftly removed from the instance with a massive, ethereal boot.

Initiate re-invite of the seething Kaelynn and a helpful guild tank, we warp back into the instance, and clear the entire place without any problems. Of course, we all blacklisted the first tank to our ignore lists.

Who would've thought I had an inner paladin? RIGHTEOUS FURY!


Holidays with a Puppy
Travel/guests explosion. This was the first long-distance overnight trip with River, who at almost 6 months old, is a 60-lb puppy who can't sit still for long in the car. She tried sleeping in my lap during a 3-hour drive and that didn't work; she had to settle for just resting her head in my lap while I sang along to Glee soundtracks.

Both sides of my family have dogs of their own: dogs that don't quite know how to wrestle and play with other dogs. These dogs are people-only dogs that tolerate the presence of other canines as long as they leave each other alone.

River is not like that.

River is a puppy who thinks that every dog she meets will want to play with her, unless they're just old and grumpy. Ironically, the one dog we found she got along best with is a tiny little dachsund/chihuahua mix who is 14 years old and nearly blind: she just growled at our massive puppy and River backed off.

The others, sadly, mistook River's attempts at play as attacks. The youngest had been attacked by another dog before, so she freaked out every time River made a play-lunge at her, though to her credit she did TRY to play with River. She even play-bowed and brought toys over to my puppy. It was torture to River that every time she tried to play back, the other dog would then freak and snarl and turn it into a real fight. The other dogs just had no interest in playing chase or tug-of-war or wrestling, and would straight-out snarl and try to fight, misinterpreting River's overtures of play.

It was a learning experience for me, and for River. All of the dogs River has met prior to the family's are dogs that know how to play with other dogs. They wrestle and bite at each other in play, and chase and tumble and run into each other. Whether bigger than her or tiny, none have ever gotten hurt. It is play. But some dogs just haven't been socialized to be able to play with other dogs. I am glad I have been able to socialize River with other dogs, that she knows how to play with them: but I am going to have to teach her that not all dogs are willing to play with her.

Aside, she did get photos with Santa.


Shortly after the whole hectic holiday travel (in driving snow and ice, no less) I had to take River to get fixed. This means: cone of shame.

Contrary to most dogs, however, River seems oblivious to the cone of shame. Like, completely oblivious, to the point that she's nearly taken peoples' faces off while romping past them. It is merely a diversion that makes loud noises when she catches it on walls, doors, cabinet handles, corners, bowls, toys, sticks, bushes, the floor, the crate, people, etc. Something that makes chewing on her bone more of an interesting challenge. Something that, in itself, is a challenge to chew on. And, occasionally, an annoyance that she can't lick at her healing stitches.

Yes, I will get pictures up. I promise.

Now, the healing wound also requires that we try to keep her calm and docile, and not go up and down stairs, and be restrained by a leash while doing her business to keep her from tearing around the yard. Leash-walking a half-grown malamute who's been cooped up in "recovery" is an feat in itself, nevermind when it's done on a steep slope covered in snow and ice. It also doesn't prevent her from going absolutely bonkers when she's back inside, much to the amusement of the three guests we had over New Year's weekend (hi, Jae and Lundrac!)


New Years'
Lego Harry Potter, Rock Band, geeky movies like Dorkness Rising and Avatar, karate training (perks to having a 3rd degree blackbelt visit for a few days), and a giggly Kae after the others found she didn't mind the taste of rum + coke, provided it was properly diluted (I usually despise the taste of alcohol). All while wrangling a boisterous puppy with a massive cone around her collar who wasn't technically allowed to run and jump and romp and zip circles around the TV room, but did anyway.

I am still recovering from the past few weeks. I would like a day to just hibernate. But, alas, the "work" monster returned so I'll have to wait until Friday for that :)

Quick Link

An online magazine made a post about the 7 most Catastrophic moments in WoW's history that was a fun little walk down memory lane. If you haven't been playing long, it's got videos, so it's a good history lesson on some of the big events--or rather, big problems--players have faced, in terms of bugs, lag, concerns, and "working as UNintended."

My favorite was the corrupted blood incident from Hakkar, which was somewhat replicated on a smaller extent from Vaelestrasz' bomb in BWL. KABOOM.

http://www.wired.com/gamelife/2010/12/world-of-warcraft-catastrophes/

WTF I want my Cattakissems!

When I went to pick up my copy of the game, I did it over a lunch break. I was on a limited timetable, needed to still eat lunch and drive home and let River out to do her business, and I looked at the line in the pick-up section of the store and thought, "hey, it's short, this shouldn't take long."

I was wrong.

I stood there with my hubby, waiting. There were two lanes open and 2 people in front of us.

Lane one went through both of the customers ahead of us. Lane two was struggling with confusion over a request for a gift exchange, where in he'd already exchanged it for gift cards (the computer systems track these things, people) and was trying to get it exchanged again using the old receipt, ie trying to pull a fast one for free stuff. Thanks bud for lieing, getting caught, and closing up one lane of the customer support line for half an hour or more.

So, lane one. Slow-moving customer support desk. The 2nd guy is wrapping up his pickup of his own Cataclysm game, and I'm getting ready to walk up when some guy comes around the corner and, walking behind the desk, grabs a vacuum cleaner box and puts it on the counter. Coming back around to the customer side, he waits right next to the other customer, watches him wrap up his transaction, and then immediately speaks up to the young woman behind the counter. "Can I pick this up now?"

....

WTF I want my Cattakissems!!

You, sir, have just been thrown mental daggers at by a rather pissed off gamer on her lunch break who is channeling her inner rogue alt. Hope you like those iLevel 232 dagger hilts sticking out of your skull, you LINE CUTTER.

I set my jaw and glare at the back of his head as he goes through his pickup of his vacuum cleaner. Angry Kae WTF-tree powers activated. I stand there thinking, "If I were working here, I'd've told him to go to the back of the line. The staff are rewarding him for his rude behavior by letting him get it. What is the world coming to?"

He doesn't even hurry with the transaction. He takes his time.

Finally, he leaves, and I get to pick up my big ole collector's ed box next to the guy who's still arguing that he wants to exchange something he doesn't own anymore for more merchandise, and rush home and let River go potty and give her lunch and pick up a COFFEE NOM MOCHA and head back to work for the afternoon, my soundtrack tucked under my arm.

My spot in line got ninja'd, though, and it rankles me. Grr. Argh.

/moonfires the vacuum.




Things I wish I could speak up and bitch about in-person, but haven't the guts or the time to make a scene about. /sigh.

Literal Cataclysm Trailer

...credits go to Sember for posting this to the guild forums :)

Trade Chat Awesomeness

Usually, I ignore trade chat. I even have a whole separate chat window set up that filters out trade and general, to save my sanity from the deluge of filth that plagues its text.

But, sometimes, there is a conversation there that gives me hope.

And amusement.



Thank you, Turalyon trade chat. You made my day.


*sings*
Dance magic dance, magic dance...
Jump magic jump, magic jump...!

Sand Kitten Bafflement

Kaeya refrained from stabbing the cat. She's a big ole softie inside, and stopped by to check in on it and give it a bowl of milk as she continually passed by on her mithril-farming route for Kotonni. But shhh... don't tell anyone.


Edit: what a horrible wildlife specialist I am! Sand cats are real desert creatures in Africa. Thanks for the comments! Mystery solved!

Druid Shifts and the Law of Conservation of Mass

I walk into these things way too easily.
Also, Alyae has not seen MASSIVETREEOFDOOMSHIFT, yet ;)

RP: Alts and Ore and Angsty Rogues

November 22nd
5:30 pm
Dalaran Streets

Kaeya leaned back against the sun-warmed stone, staring off over the worn walls of Dalaran to the distant, snow-capped mountains. The sun was dipping down through the clouds that shrouded the mountain range, and the rogue had a thoughtful expression on her youthful face as she studied the colors it painted the sky.

“Hello,” a polite voice came from beside her. She turned her green gaze, raising an eyebrow slightly to note the speaker: a young woman, blood elf like herself, with long, curled locks of red hair.

Kaeya tilted her head, wondering what she wanted. The last person who’d attempted to beg coin from her had ended up floating in the Undercity gutter, and Dalaran had a wonderful shark in its sewers here to dispose of corpses. “Lockbox?” she asked mildly, as that would be the only other plausible reason a complete stranger would be questioning her.

The girl smiled gently. “Oh, no. Kaelynn sent me… you’re Kaeya, right?”

Kaelynn. What was that druid up to? The rogue’s eyes narrowed as she studied the other elf: some mail gear, a crossbow slung over the shoulder, a faint smell of engine grease and… animal? A hunter. “Yes, I am Kaeya,” she replied carefully.

“Oh good,” the girl’s smile deepened. “She said you could help me with gathering ore… you see, I am trying to level my professions, engineering and jewelcrafting, and she said you were one of our farmers.”

The rogue grew still, staring hard at the hunter; only her hair moved, blond strands drifting in the faint breeze. “Our…?” She said after a long moment. Her gaze studied the hunter more carefully, eyes moving up and down, noting the battered boots and rusted gauntlets, and… that dagger. With lightening speed, her hand darted down and unsheathed the dagger from the hunter’s belt, flipping it deftly in her hand to study it. The hunter made a face and started to complain, but she held up her other hand to silence the girl while she looked over the blade. Heirloom quality. Agility enchant. Familiar grip. Nock in the blade, 2.3 inches up from the hilt, from…

Kaeya’s eyes narrowed to slits. Turning the blade in her hand to offer the handle back to the hunter, she sniffed. “A fellow alt. I see. So that’s why the cursor hasn’t been doing anything to remedy my weapon situation in recent weeks. Feh.” She looked back to the sunset, a dour mood now souring the view.

Looking over the blade herself with curiosity, the hunter now seemed skittish. “I’m… sorry? Um, well, I will be needing ore… starting with copper, actually. I had originally been an alchemist, but the shaman took over on that front…”

“The shaman, yes,” Kaeya said moodily. “At least she was able to farm for herself. Do you have epic flying?”

“Um, no—“

“Hmph. Suppose you’ll be plundering my hard-earned gold, too?”

There was a snarl to her right, and Kaeya just raised her eyebrows. Of course, a hunter, there would be a pet.

“Kisa!” the hunter chided her pet. A white leopard was just faintly visible, prowling up to Kaeya’s side with its lips curled up around its saber fangs.

Kaeya rolled her eyes: the prowling shadows were HER domain. “Down, kitty, it’s not like I haven’t dealt with feral druids more powerful than you. Hmph.”

“Kisa, come,” the hunter asked, pointing behind her. The cat hissed at Kaeya once more as it padded around her and obediently sat behind the girl, then began licking its paw nonchalantly. “I’m… sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression… look, I don’t really care about the epic flying. I mean, I have two drakes idling in the bank, but for a hunter, that’s kind of expected, you know? Stables… pets…” she watched the rogue, noting her attempt at humor had failed. “I just need some ore is all, and I thought the alts were supposed to help each other.”

“Great. Well, I guess this means I may actually see some play time,” Kaeya remarked.

The hunter smiled genuinely, “See, there’s always a silver lining!”

“I was being sarcastic. Did you fall and hit your head during the opening character creation cinematic?”

The hunter blushed. “No…”

Kaeya gave her a sidelong glare, silent for a moment. Then she stood, straightening, and dug a whistle out of her pocket. “What’s your name? I have to mail the ore somewhere.”

“Oh! Um, Kotonni.”

“Is that Umkotonni or just Kotonni?” Kaeya said, rolling her eyes.

“Just… Kotonni.”

“Right. Ore. Copper all the way up. What a quest. You want it smelted to bars, or can I just lob chunks of ore at the nearest mailbox and listen to the mailman complain of rock dust and property damage?”

“Oh… half and half, I guess. I need to prospect some for gems.”

The rogue blew on the whistle, and after a moment, a large war-feathered raptor dropped down from its perch on the roof. It bent its head, sniffing predatorily at the hunter’s pet, and warbled to itself as Kaeya caught its reins. “Shinies!” Kaeya mocked, admittedly jealous as she swung up onto the raptor’s back. “Well, Kot, this will take a while. Don’t pressure me or you’ll be getting [Pocket Lint] in the mail.”

Kotonni grimaced. “Please don’t call me that…”

“What, Kot?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Seeya, Kot.” With that, the rogue urged the raptor forth into the busy streets of Dalaran.

Little did she know that that evening, as she pitched her tent under the stars in the red sands of Durotar, that the world was about to change.

Comic: Spell Rebellion

As I commented yesterday,
"Regrowth came out of nowhere and beat Nourish upside the head with one of our fallen tree limbs, and dumped the unconscious Nourish in the Undercity gutter. Nourish has not recovered from the traumatic experience, yet."

Meanwhile, Rejuv, Wild Growth, Swiftmend, and Lifebloom are out partying with the new girl, Efflorescence, and Tranquility is crying on Beranabus' shoulder.

Comic: Earth, Wind, and Fire 10m

Took us a few attempts to work out how long Alyae could last solo-tanking an enraged Koralon. Panicking resto druid!



Yes, the maces look like shovels.
*I* thought it was funny. :3

...as your pathetic reset point betrays you!

Once upon a time, rather than having to engage Sindragosa upon the death of her lesser winged comrades, we would reset her by pulling her through the gates into the gauntlet room, thereby giving us the opportunity to pull her at our own choosing and without prior combat engagement with another dragon.



Yeah. That's not happening anymore. I narrowly escaped doom by making it up the elevator shaft, and the guy beside me was no so lucky as she teleported him to her before she decided to despawn.

Because Vidyala and Zelmaru are Awesome...

So, I've had a mild running joke in my years of play about using post-it notes to block out peoples' health bars in raids. I had noticed the addon GridStatusIgnored, but the "success of the raid/party outweighs my personal opinions of pugger assholes" has kept me from seriously considering downloading it. Maybe if I were still in a larger, more casual raiding guild I might consider it.

In a bit of wonderful satire, Vidyala of pugging pally has spoofed a guide about the (mythical) addon, GridStatusStupidity. You must go read it.

(Edit: Is a guest post by Zelmaru, but Vidyala is still awesome :) )

OT: Sintel

Sintel is a short film produced using open source 3D software (Blender). Short, sweet, and sad, it was released at the end of September and made its way to my feedreader, where it impressed me greatly. Some of the animation could use more work (the blood pooling on the rooftop, for example) and I really wanted MORE to what felt like a predictable story in a world I wanted to explore in more depth, but I still loved it.



The dragon design reminds me of the wyrms in WoW, mixed with demons. Gargoyle-wyrm-demons. :)

Highlight: Postcards from Azeroth

Every few days as I'm checking my RSS feed reader, a simple postcard will pop in. A screenshot from a city, or quest, or NPC, or some event in World of Warcraft; a relic of the past, a memory that makes me smile. Sometimes, a place I have never seen. Things I may have walked past and met with a blind eye, things I may have never taken the time to admire, things I may have taken for granted and then forgotten.

Many of them things that may not be there, come Cataclysm.

These are pictures that tell the story of us all: the quests we have run, and in turn, the times we spent there and the people we saw it with. That first victory over Ragnaros, or Illidan. That leveling buddy, or the girl who was working on Loremaster with me. That applicant who whispered me for information while I was questing around the downed balloon in the marsh, who later became a fellow healer and blogger. That time I stealthed all the way into Orgrimmar, and saw their sights for the first time, then died to a few dozen spitting enemies. The time my guild posed around that skull for a victory screenshot. The time I spent playing against the Warlords team in Arathi Basin and Warsong Gulch, getting bored and trading HKs and caps; then waiting around the Arathi Highlands or Ashenvale for the next queue. Getting my first bug mount, and the joke about it matching my elf's blue hair, and that other druid who was color blind or something saying he wanted a blue one to match his (green) hair. That crazy feral druid I met at level 15 and died to Westfall's Defias with, 5 years ago, and you still keep in touch. That dance party I had with my first raiding guild in that empty inn in the Dwarven District. That ship at the docks that I've never really fully explored. That quest chain that tugged at my heart-strings as I watched an NPC die, myself unable to help.

Postcards from Azeroth. Rioriel does an amazing job of capturing the world we play in, and reminding us of all that the game has to offer.

Off-topic: A Raven Red Riding Hood

I've been working on a post regarding raid cooldowns, but as it's still in development, I decided in the meantime to share a short story I wrote. I hate to write ill of a wolf, but as personified, some people are good, and some are cruel.

Enjoy :)



The nest near which she perched was rimmed in black down and moss, but that was barely visible around the seven pudgy chicks crowded within the branches. "Gran! Gran!" they chirped. "Story, Gran! Story?"

The old raven chuckled at the hatchlings' eagerness, and addressed the father who knelt at the nest's edge. "A thirst for knowledge and wisdom, I am hearing? This brood may do you proud."

The male raven, far younger than she, inclined his long, curved beak in respect. "Your lore teaches what could otherwise lead to death, if one waited but on experience," he intoned.

The old raven chuckled again, preening her sleek feathers before settling back into a story. "You know of wolves, hatchlings?"

"Yes, Gran, yes!" they chirped, all but climbing over one another. The largest fluttered wildly and pecked another on the head, fighting for the right to be the one to recite. The others leaned away, allowing the boisterous one to speak for them. "Wolves are ground-runners, large and fast/They bring down prey, rip them open for repast/A raven must remember: the wolves eat first; birds last."

The old raven clapped her wings, the long feathers striking together in a swift motion without even leaving her perch on the branch. "An excellent verse to remember, Youngling. A wolf and its pack can be a sure ticket to a meal, but always beware that those teeth that open your lunch could just as easily be turned to your own skin."

Here she paused, letting her gaze slide over the landscape of the valley, and then she began. "There was once a wolf who sought a raven's help. 'Here, Raven, look what I have found,' he called out. And sure enough, he had found a bracelet of beads, human-made, and even washed them of the blood in the stream so that they sparkled in the sun."

"He killed a human for the beads," one of the chicks half-whispered, and another bat a wing at the first and rolled his eyes at what was, to him, a dumb remark stating the obvious. The old raven merely nodded slightly in confirmation and continued with her story.

"The raven swept down to a lower branch to inspect the wolf's find, and did indeed covet the prize. Knowing that rare was the wolf who would keep such things, the raven did ask, 'What a fine thing! And what could this humble Raven do if, perchance, the Mighty Wolf wish to trade?'

"The wolf let the bracelet dangle from his teeth as he spoke, 'Your aid, Lady Raven, for I seek to find a Trespasser! Your sharp eyes and strong wings could surely find the Mongrel Filth who have stolen into my pack's lands.' The raven cocked her head in curiosity, and did say, 'Specifics may aid in your Quest, Lord Wolf, for my avian eyes may not see Royalty from Whelps, among the canid kind.'

"The wolf trotted slowly closer to the branch, bringing the bauble closer to the raven's perch; it shone in the sun like a string of stars. 'Strange wolves to this land, Winged One, who entered from Far South. Last my pack tracked them to the Rolling Hills, and there lost them, after the troublemakers did injure my Dear Son.' The raven did flutter her wings at this news, for she had not heard of it yet; 'Your pup, injured?' she asked, and the wolf nodded gravely. But the raven was wise, and knew the year to be growing late, and so said 'Surely your pup could stand its own ground, being full grown by now?'

"The wolf was caught in its attempt to sway judgment, and its triangle ears did flatten back briefly, but after a pause, the wolf stepped again closer with the bracelet, 'A fight most unfair, given the Trespass upon our land and the Poaching of our prey,' he now said. 'They must be driven away, and quickly; surely you know of where they have gone, with your eyes so keen in the Sky?'

"The raven looked again at the bauble, weighing options, for it had indeed seen these strange wolves in the valley before. Who could not have noticed? Loud calls bringing together a band of strangers, fights amongst the resident pack and these new arrivals, and all the prey creatures growing skittish with the territorial howls ringing in the woods? But the wolf was growing impatient as the raven mulled this over, and he said 'I do not offer just any trinket for your aid, Wise Raven; come and look more closely. For within these jewels lies the fire tamed by humans, itself! I had to douse them in the river just to cool them. Come closer, you must see!'

"The raven was startled by so strange a thing, that the raven fluttered down from the branch and did go closer to the wolf, who held the human beads within his teeth. 'Ah ha!' cried the wolf, and he leapt with great speed upon the raven!"

The old raven paused here dramatically, flaring her wings out in emphasis, the expansive tips brushing through the leaves of a nearby branch. The chicks squawked and chittered, and their father chuckled.

"The raven was pinned beneath the wolf's heavy feet, the very bauble she sought now pressing into the feathers of her breast, along with the wolf's sharp teeth. Teeth that were used to rip through hide and crush through bone! And from around his deadly grip, the wolf now snarled..." and the story teller lowered her voice into the ominous, gutteral tones of a wolf, " 'Tell me where the mangy filth is, bird, or I'll be feeding your heart to my alpha!' "

It looked like one of the chicks fainted. It was an act, of course; after bit of rustling, her head popped back up amongst nervous giggles.

"Now the raven knew the wolf would track down the strangers with her help or not, and whether the bracelet was ever traded became a moot point next to preserving her own life. So the raven squawked angrily, 'I would of course tell you, Cruel Wolf, who talks so Sweetly when I am in the tree! I can divulge the location of one now, in fact, last as I had seen the Creature wander; if you but let me up now, I can share it, and then seek out others in trade for your Prize.' The wolf's hot breath stunk over the raven's feathers as he considered, and at last he growled, 'Tell me the location of the One, first, and then I shall let you go to find the others.'

"The raven knew a wolf could track by scent, and so told him the honest truth, 'One did go to the shallow den by the Ancient Hickory, the one gnarled and dieing at its crown, where the Great Horned Owl does sleep. You may find your Stranger there. The others are more dispersed, but I can find them quickly, should my Wing be uninjured,' the raven said darkly. The wolf relented and relinquished his grasp, letting the raven beat rapidly back up into the tree; the bracelet remained in his jaws, locked around his sharp back teeth. 'Seek out the others, then,' the wolf now ordered, 'Return here regularly to report. When they have all been found and killed, you can have your human trash,' and the wolf now bounded away.

"The raven preened, smoothing out feathers in the fading sunlight, noting quite happily that the wolf had not taken the whole pack to take down what he thought to be one weak and alone Stranger-Wolf cornered in a shallow cave. As the sun began to spin towards the horizon, the raven took wing and flew to that cave, alighting on the safe branches of the Ancient Hickory to see what had come of the Cruel Wolf.

"In the fading light of dusk, the wolf's carcass lay, split open by claws longer than flight feathers. Just within his gaping jaw still sat the bracelet, dull now with the wolf's blood. The raven checked to be sure no one else was in sight. She then flitted down quickly, snatching up both bracelet and meat, savoring greatly her meal for all the trouble this wolf had given."

The old raven swept back in a grand bow, her story winding towards its end. "Had that Wolf not so threatened the Raven, it may have lived its full life; but also, had the Raven not thought so quickly, it may have been dead, itself, that day." The old raven paused here, watching the faces of the chicks as they mulled over the story thus far.

After a moment, one chick asked the question the old storyteller was waiting for, "Did the Stranger-Wolf kill the Cruel One, Gran?"

The storyteller gave a sharp, gleeful laugh. "Oh no," she said, "That is the best part: for the Cruel Wolf had threatened her life and harmed her pride, the Raven chose to tell a half-truth. Indeed, the Stranger had denned there one night recently, but just that morning, the Raven had seen a great Grizzly napping at that cave, three Bumbling Cubs rolling about her. A lone wolf is no match for a bear, let alone one so fierce as a mother protecting her cubs."

The chicks sighed appreciatively at the Raven's honest trick. The old raven preened her feathers again, the iridescence still shining bright blues and purples in spite of her age.

"The bracelet," another asked, "Did it really contain Human Fire and Stars?"

The old storyteller chuckled and winked, "Perhaps it did, perhaps not. If it were truly of fire, though, how could a raven keep it without her nest burning to cinders?"

The chicks pondered. "A secret stream nest!" one finally suggested. "With a waterfall!"

The chick's father chuckled at his daughter's creativity. "That would be a sight to see."

"Remember my story well, Younglings," the old Raven now said, returning her gaze to the valley, "and I bid you good day."

"Gran, Gran! Another story?"

The old raven chuckled, "Perhaps another time," she said, and she spread her great wings and swept out from the tree, catching a warm air current to lift up under her wings, letting her soar over the valley.