(no subject)
It had been well over a month of toil.
Matojo's entry to Pandaria had occurred as the result of an airship crash, and his introduction to the Pandaren was as part of a small and battered military company. He had been taken directly from prison to the airship, loaded up like livestock with the other soldiers, equipped, and sent into a place he wasn't prepared for -- further time there didn't serve to help with that issue, either. Nope. Every day was the same thing, made up of preparing the camps and fighting with the local Alliance battalions.
Every day, Matojo watched for a chance to get out. He kept to the back, picking off stragglers or taking out soldiers that tried to attack the healers. He did just enough so that his commander wouldn't get suspicious, but did little enough that he wouldn't be considered a huge threat.
And then, one day, an unexpected attack came and it gave the old Troll just the break he needed. In the ensuing chaos, he broke off from his troop and chased some retreating Alliance off into new territory. He stopped on occasion to mumble something at a small book he kept in his shirt pocket, but otherwise he kept moving -- and he moved quickly. He knew he had a lot of ground to cover if he was going to get out of sight before his commander realized something was wrong.
Before he knew it, he was climbing higher and higher into the mountains. He shouted in Common, "Geddown heah, cowahds!", though he believed himself to be alone, and marched onward.
And onward.
Upon reaching the top, charging past Pandaren and their tiny companions, he started following his nose. A plan was forming in his head. Sheer drops of thousands of feet were within reach, heavy armour on his person that he'd be better off abandoning for the sake of speed, meat somewhere that he'd be able to use.
The first creature that he encountered, that he felt would be good enough, was a big yeti. He did not hesitate to consider what he was doing -- he had made up his mind -- and he charged the creature, smashed it in the face with his shield, and jammed his sword deep into its body. He tore into it like the predator that he had been in his youth, and he made quick work of massive, drunken animal. When the yeti was dead, Matojo set to work.
First, he cut away the beast's hide. It was not clean, but that didn't matter. Then, he carved the body up -- roughly, occasionally pulling it apart with gauntlet-clad hands -- and he set the meat out, arranging it in an approximation of his own mass. When he was satisfied, he stripped down to his underclothes, stuffed his armour with the meat, and dragged it to the nearest cliff.
With a yell, he shoved it all over the side and onto the jagged cliffside below.
To complete the illusion, all he had to do was --
Matojo took the tome from his pocket, ripped out the pages, and let the whole package fly on the wind to wherever it would go.
- - -
Dear Talash, the letter read. I am writing to you on behalf of a friend. You may hear some bad news soon. Do not worry, it is not true. Everything will be just fine.
The letter was signed with the stamp of a monk from the Peak of Serenity.
Matojo's entry to Pandaria had occurred as the result of an airship crash, and his introduction to the Pandaren was as part of a small and battered military company. He had been taken directly from prison to the airship, loaded up like livestock with the other soldiers, equipped, and sent into a place he wasn't prepared for -- further time there didn't serve to help with that issue, either. Nope. Every day was the same thing, made up of preparing the camps and fighting with the local Alliance battalions.
Every day, Matojo watched for a chance to get out. He kept to the back, picking off stragglers or taking out soldiers that tried to attack the healers. He did just enough so that his commander wouldn't get suspicious, but did little enough that he wouldn't be considered a huge threat.
And then, one day, an unexpected attack came and it gave the old Troll just the break he needed. In the ensuing chaos, he broke off from his troop and chased some retreating Alliance off into new territory. He stopped on occasion to mumble something at a small book he kept in his shirt pocket, but otherwise he kept moving -- and he moved quickly. He knew he had a lot of ground to cover if he was going to get out of sight before his commander realized something was wrong.
Before he knew it, he was climbing higher and higher into the mountains. He shouted in Common, "Geddown heah, cowahds!", though he believed himself to be alone, and marched onward.
And onward.
Upon reaching the top, charging past Pandaren and their tiny companions, he started following his nose. A plan was forming in his head. Sheer drops of thousands of feet were within reach, heavy armour on his person that he'd be better off abandoning for the sake of speed, meat somewhere that he'd be able to use.
The first creature that he encountered, that he felt would be good enough, was a big yeti. He did not hesitate to consider what he was doing -- he had made up his mind -- and he charged the creature, smashed it in the face with his shield, and jammed his sword deep into its body. He tore into it like the predator that he had been in his youth, and he made quick work of massive, drunken animal. When the yeti was dead, Matojo set to work.
First, he cut away the beast's hide. It was not clean, but that didn't matter. Then, he carved the body up -- roughly, occasionally pulling it apart with gauntlet-clad hands -- and he set the meat out, arranging it in an approximation of his own mass. When he was satisfied, he stripped down to his underclothes, stuffed his armour with the meat, and dragged it to the nearest cliff.
With a yell, he shoved it all over the side and onto the jagged cliffside below.
To complete the illusion, all he had to do was --
Matojo took the tome from his pocket, ripped out the pages, and let the whole package fly on the wind to wherever it would go.
- - -
Dear Talash, the letter read. I am writing to you on behalf of a friend. You may hear some bad news soon. Do not worry, it is not true. Everything will be just fine.
The letter was signed with the stamp of a monk from the Peak of Serenity.