Pol's New Pet
Stormwind, Polindra thought to herself, always so busy-busy-busy, rush-rush-rush.
Twisting and quick-stepping to avoid a running childer, she muttered an apology under her breath when she bumped into someone's horse, then cursed to herself when she realized it wasn't a childer but one of the strange little people called gnomes, and that the horse she bumped was switching a hellfire tail. Both the mount and its rider turned their heads to glare at her before continuing to forge their own way across the busy square.
Finally reaching the quieter side streets of the city's Trade District, Pol breathed a sigh of relief, only to tangle her horns in one of the dangling street lamps. Embarrassed, she glanced around to ensure she wasn't seen while she removed the thing.
Good mood spoiled, she hefted her packs over her shoulder, striking out once again for the tavern she'd been recommended to. The Pig and Whistle catered to travelers, understanding their often—unique—requirements, and if they didn't have it on hand, they knew where to get it.
She continued walking, glancing down at a scrap of parchment covered in smeared glyphs, comparing them with the signs around her. Coming to a fork in the road, she tilted the scrap into the light, slowly mouthing out the letters.
"C…u…t…h…ah!" She looked up and grinned, turning down the maze of narrow streets, not realizing that the rest of the letters spelled out Cutthroat Alley, instead of Cuthbert Way.
Two lefts, a right, and several winding paths that became progressively narrower later, Pol determined that she should have been standing in front of the legendary inn, but instead was faced with a ramshackle building that appeared to have been scavenged from a dozen different places. Weeds sprouted from cracked cobbles, and the smell of too many animals in too close quarters wafted out through the narrow doorway.
Something skittered in the shadows behind her, the noise faint to her ears, leather scuffing on stone. Moving slowly, she turned her head slightly to the right, just enough to let someone observant know she was aware of them. And if they weren't observant, well, that would be an issue they could take up with a healer. Or a gravedigger.
Pol quietly whistled three quick notes and flicked her fingers in a pattern she'd practiced for months to master. With a tiny spark, a miniature whirlwind appeared, perched quietly on the palm of her hand. The zephyr whistled back, before beginning to flit around the shaman's body, causing her cloak to flair and her pigtails to flip.
The little creature paused on her shoulder before suddenly whistling shrilly and darting into the dimly lit shack.
"Kakoui…?"
Polindra jumped in surprise, half-drawing her axe. A quick glance behind showed her that her stalker had decided on the better part of valor, and she charged through the door just as a shout went up!
"Kaaaiiiii—ya?"
Her triumphant battle-cry, practiced for hours in the woods of Terokkar, broke off in astonishment, her axe stopped just inches from a heavy counter. The elemental swirled in front of her, flashes of light chasing away the shadows as it drew power to itself to grow larger. Zephyrs weren't meant for battle but already it was nearly two feet tall and if it tried to get much larger was likely to explode!
The shout had come from one of the more disreputable humans she'd seen in her travels. His bald head was breaking out in a sweat, and what muscle he might have had long since run to fat. Still, she gave the human points for bringing up a heavy broadsword and assuming what might be a defensive stance. If she turned sideways. And squinted. Hard.
"Kill it! Kill it!" the human yelled, swinging the sword wildly and nearly taking off part of his own leg.
The zephyr simply flickered out of the way before the lightening started to solidify in the heart of it. Within seconds it would be ready to discharge, likely killing the wild-eyed tradesman behind the counter.
Polindra focused, touching that part of her that served as conduit and control for the spirits she shared her path with. She whistled sharply, demanding the zephyr's attention and obedience while keeping an eye on the sword.
Evil! Evilevilevil! Trap! Traptraptrap!
Frowning, Pol shot a look at the quivering pile of lard on the other side of the counter. There was evil, and there was evil, and the spirit's definition ran a bit narrower than that of the mortal realm.
What evil is here? she whistled back.
The zephyr gave her back the sequence that meant like-but-not, one that usually indicated the same element, but a different rank in the structure. There was an odd inflection to it, though….
Like-but-not? Pol asked, trying to repeat the same twist.
The elemental lunged forward, but stopped when the human shrieked and waved the sword again. Splinters flew from the edge of the rotted counter, proving the blade was still sharp for its age.
Show me, Pol whistled, turning her attention to the goods on display and discovering the source of the smell.
Cage upon cage of small animals were stacked around the tiny shop. Rodents and small birds crowded side-by-side with what had to be three litters of kittens, a dozen owls and some kind of big-eyed, furry thing with a long tail.
The elemental ignored it all, stopping in front of a tiny cage, too small for anything bigger than a rat to be comfortable in, hidden in a dank corner. Squinting, Pol could just make out what could be matted gold and white fur and a long, tufted tail.
Strange, she thought, it is…trilling?
Zephyr dancing around her in agitation, the shaman worked the cage free from its corner before unlatching the front and swinging the door open.
Pol gasped and nearly fell backwards, when the white head twisted towards her revealing big gold eyes and a raptor's beak.
"Vell…aren't you dey pretty one…," she cooed.
Reaching carefully into the cage, Polindra paused when the tiny gryphon tried to mantle, ear tufts going back and wings half-spreading as it tried to get to its feet.
This one? Pol whistled.
Yes. Like-but-not.
The elemental, now that help was at hand, began to grow smaller, letting the ambient energy return to the air around it. Within seconds it had returned to its normal size, able to dance on its shaman's palm with room to spare. It no longer whistled fiercely, but coaxed and whispered while flitting around the pair. In turn, the fledgling relaxed as well, watching the zephyr like a new playmate.
Polindra scooped the cat-sized creature out of the cage, careful of wings and tail, to cradle it against her chest. A quick examination revealed it to be underfed, in need of a good grooming, and female.
Still crouched, Pol swiveled on her hooves, her eyes tracking the human still behind the counter. Catching his rolling eyes with hers, she stood, slowly, cradling an infant gryphon in her left arm, air elemental balancing on her left shoulder, drawing herself to her full height, a good head-and-a-half taller than the shopkeeper. She paused, keeping her eyes locked with his, letting the idea of her size seep into his awareness.
Slowly then, she stalked across the room, each hoof clipping against the wood floor like a death knell. Reaching the counter she paused just across from him, pleased that the shivering and sweating had passed into prey-stillness.
"Und vhere did you find dis lovely one?" she asked him, voice soft and gentle, a stark contrast to her eyes and the tilt of her head.
For a moment, she simply watched his mouth move without sound. "A…a…a breeder…fr-from Kalimdor. Said it was the runt of the litter." His eyes flicked down, clearly indicating the fledge. "Sold it to me cheap. "
"Hmmmm." Polidra tilted her head. "I did not know one could measure living craytures in liters. It is something to remember. How much?" she asked abruptly.
The glint of greed sparked in the human's eyes, and Polidra could see him coming back to himself.
"How much? Well, I paid seven, so I could see my way for … ten gold."
Pol pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, coldly eyeing the merchant.
"Agreed."
The shaman dropped one of her packs on the counter and deftly opened it one-handed, drawing out a parchment, then quill and ink. A moments work and she shoved the small scroll across the counter, returning the rest to her pack before securing it again.
"What's this?" the human demanded, pink beginning to flush his cheeks.
"A draft on dey Bank of Exodar for ten gold, as agreed," she answered calmly, "as gut as dey gold in dey Bank of Stormwind. Present it at dey vindow and dey vill redeem it."
She leaned forward just a little, before pulling back and throwing her packs over her shoulder again and turning toward the door.
"Dey gryphon is crayture of air made flesh; all elemental kind knows dis and recognizes it. A thing to remember, no?"
She smiled at the human who was so torn between greed, outrage and fear she was afraid his heart would give out. And if her smile showed just the tiniest glimpse of the very sharp teeth many forgot her people had, well….
"Gut healt', long life."
With long, slow, deliberate strides she left the building and began retracing her steps to the Trade District. Usually there were druids gathered in the Park at this time of day, and there was a mage in the Mage District that owed her a favor.
And if the Light was shining, there would be a farmer tomorrow who would be richer by one sheep.