[storybit] Striding Into the Future
((One of the changes scheduled for the next patch is that taurens will be allowed to ride raptors, skellyhorses, and chokobos. Given how the hawkstrider vendors have responded to inquiries from tauren in the past, I have to imagine that they aren't at all pleased about the change...))
Perascamin wrung his hands as he paced the offices of Thuron's Livery. Outside, he could hear that the crowd was growing. He would have to open the stables for sales in just a few minutes, and his stomach was knotted with the tension. Glancing through the back door, he caught sight of Winaestra standing among the birds, her arms around two of their necks, head bent into their feathers as they pecked at her hair with their massive beaks. Her back shook from crying. Perascamin didn’t blame her at all.
He’d tried, Sun knows he’d tried, everything in his power to block this travesty from coming about. He’d petitioned, lobbied, bribed, and would have hired assassins if he’d been able to figure out whose death would prevent this terrible day. True, the new strains of hawkstriders they’d brought in were larger and sturdier; the white battle striders that had been captured in Kael’thas’ own stables had bred true, producing mounts that were capable of handling… he shuddered, rubbing his eyes hard.
Pacing over to the front door, Perascamin carefully tugged aside a corner of the filmy purple drapes hiding the side windows, and glanced at the - yes, herd, outside. Massive, furry bodies, hooves churning up the lawn, a forest of horns… some had brought friends, the whole motley Horde was represented: corpses, cannibals, and barbarians. And he even saw a scattering of Sin’dorei, a betrayal of his own kind that made his jaw ache from clenching. Many of the huge beasts were holding papers, the required award from Regent Lord Lor’themar Theron, stating that their services to Silvermoon entitled them to purchase one of his precious mounts. They shouted cheerfully to each other in their deep voices. Four guards stood nearby, watching the proceedings with calm, expressionless faces.
It didn’t help that he recognized some of the animals, from their earlier attempts to purchase hawkstriders. He’d sneered at them, of course, been dismissively rude in the confidence that his bias was based on a simple fact of nature, and backed by Sin’dorei law. The looks on their faces, as much as he could understand their bestial expressions, seemed full of smug triumph. Some of them - oh, Sun preserve, some of them were dancing.
On the table behind him, an elegant brass device chimed once. A roar went up from the mob, and he let the curtain fall as they turned to look expectantly at the door. Perascamin looked back over his shoulder, and noted with approval that Winaestra had composed herself, and was standing ready just inside the stables. Only her fingers, clenched white on the scribe-board that held the papers for each hawkstriders, showed her feelings. She had also been - less than friendly, in the past, to many of the creatures that she would soon be dealing with. She nodded, once.
He took a deep breath, straightened his jacket, constructed a careful smile that he hoped would last him through the day, and unlocked the door. As it swung open, another cheer went up, and he flinched slightly at the noise. "Welcome to Thuron's Livery," he shouted, as sincerely as he could manage. "The new breed of hawkstriders have arrived, and we are - pleased to have them available for our noble allies, the Tauren, to purchase and ride for the first time!" As the tide of massive, hairy bodies rushed towards him, Perascamin spared a moment to console himself with the thought of how full his coffers would be by the end of the day.
Perascamin wrung his hands as he paced the offices of Thuron's Livery. Outside, he could hear that the crowd was growing. He would have to open the stables for sales in just a few minutes, and his stomach was knotted with the tension. Glancing through the back door, he caught sight of Winaestra standing among the birds, her arms around two of their necks, head bent into their feathers as they pecked at her hair with their massive beaks. Her back shook from crying. Perascamin didn’t blame her at all.
He’d tried, Sun knows he’d tried, everything in his power to block this travesty from coming about. He’d petitioned, lobbied, bribed, and would have hired assassins if he’d been able to figure out whose death would prevent this terrible day. True, the new strains of hawkstriders they’d brought in were larger and sturdier; the white battle striders that had been captured in Kael’thas’ own stables had bred true, producing mounts that were capable of handling… he shuddered, rubbing his eyes hard.
Pacing over to the front door, Perascamin carefully tugged aside a corner of the filmy purple drapes hiding the side windows, and glanced at the - yes, herd, outside. Massive, furry bodies, hooves churning up the lawn, a forest of horns… some had brought friends, the whole motley Horde was represented: corpses, cannibals, and barbarians. And he even saw a scattering of Sin’dorei, a betrayal of his own kind that made his jaw ache from clenching. Many of the huge beasts were holding papers, the required award from Regent Lord Lor’themar Theron, stating that their services to Silvermoon entitled them to purchase one of his precious mounts. They shouted cheerfully to each other in their deep voices. Four guards stood nearby, watching the proceedings with calm, expressionless faces.
It didn’t help that he recognized some of the animals, from their earlier attempts to purchase hawkstriders. He’d sneered at them, of course, been dismissively rude in the confidence that his bias was based on a simple fact of nature, and backed by Sin’dorei law. The looks on their faces, as much as he could understand their bestial expressions, seemed full of smug triumph. Some of them - oh, Sun preserve, some of them were dancing.
On the table behind him, an elegant brass device chimed once. A roar went up from the mob, and he let the curtain fall as they turned to look expectantly at the door. Perascamin looked back over his shoulder, and noted with approval that Winaestra had composed herself, and was standing ready just inside the stables. Only her fingers, clenched white on the scribe-board that held the papers for each hawkstriders, showed her feelings. She had also been - less than friendly, in the past, to many of the creatures that she would soon be dealing with. She nodded, once.
He took a deep breath, straightened his jacket, constructed a careful smile that he hoped would last him through the day, and unlocked the door. As it swung open, another cheer went up, and he flinched slightly at the noise. "Welcome to Thuron's Livery," he shouted, as sincerely as he could manage. "The new breed of hawkstriders have arrived, and we are - pleased to have them available for our noble allies, the Tauren, to purchase and ride for the first time!" As the tide of massive, hairy bodies rushed towards him, Perascamin spared a moment to console himself with the thought of how full his coffers would be by the end of the day.