Brekk wiped his hands on his thick hide pants, pausing to poke at a bit of loose stitching in the seam of one leg. "Damn," he grumbled. He gave his hands a sniff, big bovine nostrils flaring. Yep, his hands still smelled like ham. "Damn," he repeated, as he pushed his huge frame into a standing position. His mane itched, but he ignored the compulsion to reach back and scritch at the thick hair that ran from the back of his head to halfway down his spine. Shaking his mane out, he snorted and stretched. The tauren lumbered toward the river.

They'd made their camp in a dry, grassy plain known only as the Barrens. Brekk's bed was a spot on the ground and a tree he could lean back against. His traveling partner, Luanne would make her bed on his chest or the ground nearby. It would be her choice, of course. Luanne wasn't a force to be reckoned with. Besides the tree and the hard ground with its itchy dry grass, they also had Brekk's bow and quiver, as well as a pair of knives he'd "found" on one of those sissy Night Elves that had been unfortunate to cross the hulking tauren's path. "Shoot. He ain't gonna need it no more," Brekk had chuckled to Luanne as he discarded his battered and broken weapons which he had previously "found" on a dwarf. Then he'd pissed on the elf's corpse before gathering his things, and his Luanne, and heading off to new adventures.

Stopping short at the bank, Brekk snorted and shook his mane, one massive hoof pawing nervously at the ground. The river was deep. At least three feet at its deepest point, by the looks of it. He would have to use extreme caution. A vague shape, darker green than the algae that coated the rocky shallows, rose until it was identifiable as an adolescent crocolisk. While it was small enough to fit in the maw of a hungry adult of the same species, it was hardly a hatchling and could certainly deliver one hell of a messy bite.

Startlingly blue eyes studied the croc as it floated a few yards away. With a snort, he shook his head and returned his gaze to the treacherous water. Glancing around furtively, the tauren reached down to remove his pants and toss them haphazardly to the side, where they landed atop a bush. Trying to keep his ham-hands clear of a perfectly clean shirt (He'd only been wearing it a week now and would get another week out of it if he played his cards right. Buying new shirts was a royal ass-pain when you ripped nearly everything you tried on when you moved your arms. It was also expensive), he wiggled his arms and massive shoulders until he had shimmied the shirt up over his head. He was annoyed to hear some ripping sounds as the top of the shirt caught on one horn. "Son of a...," he growled in a deep baritone. The shirt had buttons, but the wearer had huge, three fingered hands, the ends tipped with what resembled little hooves more closely than fingernails. He should have asked the merchant to unbutton the stupid shirt so he could just wear it open. The ladies liked to see a little chest...

There was the hiss of dried grass parting in the wake of something that was either huge or moving clumsily and Brekk tensed, his shirt still over his head, both thick arms pointed skyward. He fairly melted in relief when he heard a very welcome grating voice. "Lulu ya nearly scared the sh-" Brekk tensed again, "Aw LuANNE, I ain't DEcent!," he bellowed as he sought to bring down his hands and cover himself. The shirt made more ripping noises and he snorted and stomped a hoof in frustration. "Lulu Baby? Ya still there?" His inquiry was greeted with silence and he breathed a sigh of relief. He shouldn't have yelled at her like that, but there were some things a man had to do in private, and bathing was one of them, followed closely by shitting. Or maybe vice-versa. He'd have to ponder that the next time he took a shit.

Fuzzy ears twitched at a new sound, that of water being agitated. "Aw now what in the h- GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!," Brekk roared. And this time the shirt did rip, his arms flying down to his sides with a slap as he hollered in pain and leaned forward to see what in the hell was making his leg hurt so bad. "Why you little..." Brekk was in the habit of not finishing his sentences, though he wasn't aware of it and Luanne had never bothered to tell him.

Had there been any passersby, they'd likely have been quite amused at the scene. Here was a burly tauren with a cowboy hat that was a bit small for his big skull, buck-naked with a very brilliant white and cuddly-looking tummy for one so huge and pissed-off, if the thrashing tail were any indicator of mood. Aside from the hat, he wore only a pair of weathered and cracked leather bracers about his wrists. Black spots covered everything but his ever-so-slightly pudgy belly and his face which was also black.

If the sight of the big, muscular, pudgy belly, buck-naked tauren with a tiny hat and a nervously shrunken weiner wasn't comical enough, he was bending forward to stare down at a three-foot-long crocolisk that had left the safety of the river to crawl up the bank and latch itself, in what appeared to be a very painful fashion, onto the bellowing tauren's right leg, just below the knee.

Brekk stopped screaming to stare down at the bothersome little bastard that had sunk inch-long teeth deep into his leg. His pale blue eyes seethed with hatred as he grabbed it by the tail and yanked. It didn't let go. Brekk yelled again but didn't release the thickly scaled and thrashing tail. "Hey hey HEY! Now ya cut that out ya little jerk!" he was referring to the way the crocolisk had tucked in all six of its legs and was now thrashing as if it thought it might take a good chunk of leg-of-Brekk back to its watery home.

He released his grip on the thing's tail, noting with some satisfaction the fact that he had left deep a crimp in it. "Howsat fer a handshake, ya little- OW SHEEEE-IT!" It tightened its bite and dug its rear legs into the ground, attempting to backpedal with the mighty tauren's leg in tow. Looking around frantically, Brekk marched over to the nearest tree, dragging the bothersome croc along with him, and snapped off a pathetically skinny dry branch… More of a stick than a branch… Maybe more like a really long twig.

"Get. The. Hell. OFF!" Brekk yelled, accenting each word with a smack on the croc's streamlined, thrashing body. Further up on the bank, Luanne watched calmly. Her expression was unimpressed. Beady black eyes regarded the tauren, who was now dancing along the shore, whipping the crocolisk that was still fastened to his leg. Blinking mutely, the big pink bird swiveled her head on her long neck and began preening the feathers on her back.

Hissing around the bloody prize it was intent on not releasing, causing a fine froth of red mist to spatter the white fur there, the croc lifted its tail and let loose a watery, rancid stool that managed to flick off its tail and spatter the side of Brekk's uninjured, left leg. "Aw gross! That's just nasty!" Brekk complained, the pitch of his voice rising girlishly in disgust. Recovering his deep, drawling tone, Brekk grumbled angrily, "Oh now yer cruisin' fer a bruisin', mister." Grabbing the repulsively poop-slick tail, Brekk ignored the agonizing white-hot pain that roared through his head and made his ears buzz. He wrenched the crocolisk free, managing to retain most of his leg-flesh, though it was quite shredded.

Roaring senselessly, Brekk brought back his arm, the croc slapping against his shoulder before he launched it, hissing and thrashing through the air toward the opposite bank. The croc's head hit a boulder with a sickening crunch and it slid down the incline until it was half submerged, bloody crushed head lying on the dry shore. Brekk cursed as he watched the very-much-dead croc slide to a halt. "Sheeit, I coulda eaten that," He snorted. "Well, I ain't goin' on the deep side for no stinkin' dead lizard," he continued. The deep side he referred to was a three-foot drop before the bank.

Brekk scratched the short, messy beard, which was black to match the mane, that decorated his chin all the way along his thick square jaw. A breeze kicked up and the wind cooled the flattened-down fur on the top of his head. His hat had gotten knocked off during the epic battle! Snorting loudly, the tauren turned to search the shore. He sighed in relief as he lifted the hat tenderly, shaking it off before sliding it home between the two horns that jutted straight up and then forward from his thick skull. "What smells? Aw fudge!" he exclaimed in disgust. He still had some crocolisk poo on his hand. Luckily, he'd used the unsoiled (but hammy) hand to replace the much-loved cowboy hat.

"Bitch," he stomped one mighty hoof. He made his way back down to the river, tail lashing like an angry snake, hand held far from his body as he stared at it cautiously as though it were a dead thing he'd found in his bedroll (before he'd inadvertently torn it in two during a particularly interesting battle-dream). He wore a disgusted frown, his fat bottom lip sticking out; his uneven white teeth showing a bit. As he leaned forward to wash his hands, something moved on the water's surface. Without hesitation, the naked, angry tauren lifted the nearest rock, which happened to be large enough to require both hands, and slammed it down on… his own reflection. "Oh," he muttered, his ears flattening. He was still a little edgy, apparently.

Shaking his head in disgust, so much for taking a nap after dinner, he stepped gingerly into the water, snorting nervously as he became submerged up to his high, thick unguligrade* ankles. "Ain't that bad," he commented, though his voice was forced and definitely trembled. A shiver ran up his spine and he shook his massive shoulders. "Nope. Not bad at all," he let out a nervous chuckle.

Stooping low, Brekk rinsed his hands thoroughly, rubbing sandy silt between his fingers for good measure. He sniffed his fingers and shook his head at the smell, washing his hands again. With an uncomfortable huffing sound and several loud snorts, the tauren cautiously lowered himself until he was sitting in the shallow water, both legs straight out in front of him. After glancing around prudently, he proceeded to wash his "junk", as he would call it, and then continue to his chest, arms and shoulders. He bent forward, reaching for his own foot, which was a bit of a task, given his bulky build, despite the fact that his arms were very long. Brekk was a very muscular fellow, but agility wasn't one of his strong points. His physical grace ranked somewhere below his reading comprehension level and just above his social skills. "C'mere ya little… gotcha," he rumbled as he used a stick to scrape the dirt off of the bottom of each hoof.

Finally clean, well, as clean as one could get sitting in a shallow river, Brekk stood and cracked his neck. He removed his hat to keep it from escaping again as he shook out his still-dry mane and slapped off the drops of water that tickled his chest and biceps. As he replaced the hat, he turned around to catch his flamingo-colored plainstrider standing on the bank, her thick and scaly legs spread in a wide V shape as she tilted lowered her head and let out a grating cry, "Raaaah."

Brekk automatically removed his hat again and used it to cover himself. "LUAAANE! I told ya Daddy ain't decent! Now turn around, Babe. I gotta get dressed!" Luanne regarded him with beady eyes, or maybe she merely stared at the sky or the river or the grassy plain that surrounded the unlikely pair. Her eyes were pretty far apart and mostly pupil, so it was tough to ascertain where exactly she was gazing. The inside of his ears flushing a bright scarlet, Brekk shook his head and lowered it as he marched past the motionless, staring bird. "Tell ya a man can't get no privacy…" Brekk continued to mutter under his breath as he lumbered back to his retrieve his pants and now-useless shirt from the bushes.

Plainstriders were a large species of bird, comparable in size and form to an ostrich. They had long, sturdy legs that could carry the clumsily fat-looking body at alarming speeds. While they subsided on an omnivorous diet, leaning more toward the herbivorous when given the choice, they had powerful, hooked bills that were useful for tearing flesh. Along with the formidable claws on their feet, a plainstrider was well-equipped to prove a formidable opponent. The animals were notorious for their aggressive attitude and short fuse, and Luanne could be considered no different, though she put up with an unusual amount of clumsy handling by her travel partner. As far as plainstriders went, Luanne was quite stoic.

Eyeing his "girl" cautiously over one shoulder, Brekk hesitantly replaced his hat before reaching for the tan hide pants that he had flung into the bushes. He lifted his left leg and stomped it into the pants. He lifted the right and let out a low whistle before losing his balance and falling onto his ass with a loud thump. The fall on his butt elicited only a quiet grunt from the tauren, whose attention was fixed on his right leg, or more appropriately, the nasty bite that was covered in blood and surrounded by very shredded, furry flesh. "Crap," Brekk moaned, though it came out sounding more like "crayup"

Piercing blue-gray eyes studied the injury closely for several minutes. He sniffed once and batted away a fly that buzzed up near his nose. Flies always seemed to find Brekk; though he wasn't sure what it was that they wanted. As far as he could tell, they just liked to show up in ones and pairs to buzz around his face. He'd had the brilliant idea of getting a frog to sit on his shoulder and take care of the problem, but he'd been a little heavy-handed in capturing the frog and, needless to say it wasn't in any condition to be on any shoulder doing any job. So he'd cooked and eaten it.

Unblinking, icy eyes took in every detail and nuance of the ragged, damaged flesh. Strands of muscle showed in the center of the deep rip. "Hmm. That ain't good," he commented quietly.

Brilliant, sky-colored eyes, the skin between them wrinkling with growing concern, flicked from side to side as they carefully inspected the wound he had sustained from his epic battle. After ten minutes of staring intently, barely blinking, Brekk had come to a conclusion. "Yep. That's a bite."

After yanking his pants on, the act of which brought forth another roar of pain, Brekk stood and shook his head at the two halves of his shirt, which lay spread in the mud like the tattered wings of a giant, dead butterfly. Without the stress of being nude to distract him, the tauren was very aware of the ache in his lower leg. Limping slightly, he gathered the empty sack where he kept his food and water skins. "C'mon Lulu," he mumbled in defeat. The two headed downriver to find the bridge that would take them to Durotar. Then it would be a long trek across the desert to the nearest town, known as Orgrimmar.

A fly buzzed around the pile of stripped ham-bones the tauren had left behind. Landing in the deep crater where he'd planted his ass, it swiveled its head from side to side, rubbing threadlike legs over its eyes before returning to the pile of salty bones.


*Unguligrade refers to the legs of animals that have hooves with high ankles, and can also be used to describe the animals that walk on such legs. Take, for instance, a horse. Or a draenei. Or a tauren! It's a clumsy word and definitely one of my favorites n_n

Website with stupid Brekk screenshots: YayMyStories . com