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#inspiration #I'M GONNA BE A MIGHTY KING SO ENEMIES BEWARE

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Wtf…

#the man the myth the legend #yes good

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Across the Portal

One hoof in front of the other. Crunch.Just one more. Squelch. Then another. Shouting. Another. Screming. Another. Another. Another. Another... The portal swallowed her whole. It was dark. It was crushing. The void between worlds was cold and merciless. -

Was she wading in the surf- no. It was blood. Bodies. Gore. Not just her brothers and sisters of hoof and horn. Savage, fel tainted Orc brethren she knew like no other, and Voodoo bound, Loa stained powerful Trolls. Corpses once long dead and still Forsaken, the ethereal sun bronzed, light touched Elves, and the wily resourceful Goblins who smelt more like fire than fire itself. Vanguard one and all. Were they of the Warband? She could not spot the tabards they wore. She was too busy blocking the next thrust, the next riposte, the next cleave, the magic, the arrows, the bolts, the death.

Allowyn spun her staff around, swinging it behind her to hit an enemy about to sink a blood covered sword into her back. She didn't even know he was there, but it hit, and she was alive, and she was lucky. Not like others. The staff hit the Iron Horde Orc on the head, and he fell back through the portal. To the dirt of her home word. To the dry air of the Blasted Lands. His head came sailing back through. It was brown. Why was his skin brown. Why were the Orcs who came through the portal not fel tainted? The questions came to her amidst the chaos of the battle.

There was an Orc in front of her, what was the expression on his face, Surprise? Why was he surprised? Was it because of her height? She stood a full 3 feet above him. Or her race? Horns, fur, powerful stance. Or even her gender? I mean really, tits made no difference in battle... She took advantage of that to brace one leg; her bad side, and then kick him down. He was trampled under the weight of his comrades who were eager to join in on the slaughter, and then one question was knocked out of the equation. She faced a female Orc in leather that the oddly detached side of her examined in less than a blink and judged to be of superior quality than her hand grown hardened wooden armour. The Orc seemed to gleefully aim a blow at her chest, and as Allo brought her staff down to block it she fell for the feint. Her weapon wrenched out of her hands and forever lost in the crowd, the Tauren not-so-silently mourned for her now lost friend as she proceeded to make up for the deed by punching the Orc in the jaw so hard that the lower half went spinning off to join her hardy, battle worn staff.

There was so much violence all around. Azeroth lay behind her, and this clearly wasn't the Outlands. So she strode forward, she advanced, she made progress and fought with those of whom she knew she would never fight beside again. She loved them, she saluted them, and their bravery and courage gave her strength. Horde and Alliance. There were the small Humans, the fleshy breakable things that just kept going. The Draenei, beacons of the light kept the faith and stood tall, beside them, of all the Alliance races she felt closest too, the eternal night elves. She could have sworn one of their priestesses caught her eye and winked, as her Druid life companion called down the wrath of the weather on their foes. A worgen was gleefully rending apart whoever she could see, and two smaller beings, a dwarf and a gnome, were using technology she had never even considered could be made to set their foes on fire.

She couldn't see any of the Pandaren. Allowyn hoped that was a good thing.

Her feral forms tugged at the corners of her mind. The bear to wreak havoc and catch attention, the big cat to extract revenge and rip lovingly to rend flesh from life, the moonkin form of magic to burn her enemies with the power of the sun, the fast stag with antlers to impale any who would dare impede her fleeing from battle, even the winged, keen eyed scout with a razor sharp beak.

But not the healer. That was a life lead long ago, and one that she could never return to.

Still, the Tauren resisted. She advanced on the enemies and she stayed Tauren. She stayed Allowyn Spirithoof. Not the Tauren turned cat, or Allo the bear. Not the Dreadsunder Winged Scout, or the Northrend Tundra Horde Messenger. Her favourite form, the most feral, of tooth and claw and tail, of slit pupils and keen hearing, of a taste for red meat and the instinct for hunt like none other, it called to her. She had heard of this; the dangerous need to shift, to change, to meld again. To stay, and stay, and stay, until she could never remember how to change back. It was war like this that caused it, that made her forget who she was and what she thought for.

'I am Allowyn, and I fight for Thrax'roth Dreadsunder and his mate Grek'thala Dreadsunder. I fight for Kalthrar Dreadsunder, and Kruthak Bloodsong. I fight for Drek'rall. I fight for Harzbek. I fight for Zolon and Vexoria. I fight for Jof'wazi and that other one, the Bloodtusk troll. Earthmother guide that ballsey asshole and his boney knees and I hope that he never jumps on my back again. I fight for the Warband, and I fight to know those in it whom I have yet not met. I fight for my mother, my sister, my father, my brother, my clan, my people. I fight for Azeroth. I fight for the Horde.' It was a mantra she spoke over and over, names of those not yet met and those long gone.

With a heaving cry, she threw herself at her enemies. Then she advanced some more. Their weapons were good, and they had conviction, but had they not met a Tauren before? Did they not realise how hard they had to cut to pierce the fat layer under her fur, let alone to incapacitate her muscles to cripple then kill? Or were they inexperienced with battle in general. As she stepped on the head of one Iron Horde Orc to ground his brain matter under her hoof she advanced again. Wait. Why were they slowin-

The portal flickered and the fighting stopped.

Allowyn raised her eyes to the portal as it flickered again. It was so far away.

Wait. How had she advanced this far. How was she not the bottom of the stairs but far in the fray of the battle for this not Outla-

The portal stopped. It just, ceased. The junglescape behind it was breath-taking, but for all the wrong reasons. An anguished cry left her throat.

Azeroth.

No...

“No. NO!” She scrambled back towards the empty space between the pillars. Or tried to. She had known this was a mission she would never come back from, but there was still an ember of hope she had held in her heart. That ember had flickered and died in time with the portal and a cold finality settled upon the Druid.

Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm, it slipped off once- she wasn't sure if it was because of the blood on him, or her, but then a firm grip seized her again. She whirled around, teeth bared, ready to shift into a better form to fight. But her younger Tauren eyes met older Orc ones. He wore white on brown. His scars outnumbered hers by far. Allowyn gasped in recognition.

“We will live to fight another day, girl. Pull yourself together, we still have an entire army to get through.” Drek'rall grinned at her with a mean glean in his eyes, one arm swept towards their foes who were just now turning back to face them. Allowyn looked at him again. Was she as battle worn as the old orc? How long had they even been fighting? She glanced at the weapon he held, was it a testament to how hard he had worked to get to her side or did they end up here by sheer accident? Either way, she'd never seen something so riddled with splintered bone and dripping guts.

He must have been able to see the despair in her eyes for he slapped her in the face and yanked her down to his heigh by one horn.

“What did I just tell you, Allowyn?!” he growled at her. “You will never see Azeroth again if you die here so fight! FIGHT DAMN YOU!” He must have seen something as the next thing she knew he was pushing her out of the way to bock an axe that had been swung at her back. She stumbled, trying to catch her footing, but her hoof got tangled in her kilt and a sword was falling with its razor sharp truesteel edge gleaming grinning bloodily at her and the orc behind it laughing at her uselessness-

Calloused paws landed in the blood mud only to spring out of the way, the feral form, the big cat, turned sharply on the spot and leapt at her foe. She had shifted out of habit. That was dangerous, but she could not consider that until she was safe enough think about it. Now was about survival, even if it meant giving up a part of her to do so. Needle point claws ripped through a throat, her jaws wrapped with an iron grip around a hand that had been about to thrust a dagger Drek'rall. She clamped down even harder and bit the thing off, her muzzle a beautiful ruby red in the dim light. She backed up and felt the old Orc behind her, they were standing back to back in the middle of the Iron Horde itself. Some had turned to take on easier prey ahead, but most of them eyed the Dreadsunder pair. If Tauren has scared them, then a Tauren shifting into a predatory killing machine would have made them shit their pants. Yet it only made them stay back for one heartbeat, two, three...

Drek'rall threw back his head and shouted his challenge and at the same time, somehow, by some unknown signal, Allowyn furiously roared out hers. With the semi-silence broken the Iron Horde charged them, not seeing the blood lust shine from their eyes, not knowing that this would be their only battle against those of Azeroth, they ran to meet their deaths in the form of an old fel tainted, battle worn orc, and a scarred, campaign hardened, Tauren-turned-cat.

#Allowyn's Writing #Dreadsunder Warband #Warlords of Draenor #Across the Portal #Wyrmrest Accord #Horde #Drek'rall

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"'Unty 'un. 'Unty tooh. 'Unty foar. 'Unty elevunty." Squat peon, in all honesty, really had no idea how to count, but that was what he noticed what some members of the Horde did when they worked out. Squat peon did not work out though, he only did squats. Squats were for real peons. Yeah! Squats!

"'Enty fix. 'Enty eventy. 'Enty 'enty." Squat Peon was angry. Squat Peon was Squatting because he had volunteered for a simple supply escort mission today and had been turned down. The supplies had not needed his Iron Buns protecting them, they were beneath his Crushing Thighs, but he had really wanted to show off to the Warband members that he saw around Dread'mar. Well, not show off. Squat Peon had noticed that their squatting techniques were lacking. They did not spend every waking hour Squatting. He was very confused by this, and had maybe thought that he could show them how it was done. Now he could not, and Squat peon was angry.

“Firty noine. Firty free. Firty 'unty. Foar.” With practised ease, Squat Peon moved the pile of wood he was carrying from the Gem Boutique over to the Tannery. Squat Peon had no idea what those words meant. Squat Peon called them Shiny Shiny, and Smelly Tent Place. Squat Peon also had no idea where the pile of wood he carries was meant to go, or even where it had come from, but he had noticed that if he held it while doing Squats, no Squatless Overpeon would tell him what to do. Squat Peon was Smart Squat Peon.

“Eventy tooh. Eventy-” Squat Peon was rudely interrupted by a very very loud noise. The ground under him shook, nearby snow crashed off the various rocks and buildings, everyone in Dread'mar ducked for cover in fear it was another Iron Horde invasion. Squat Peon stopped Squatting to stare at the sky, trying to find where the Big Noise That Had Nothing To Do With Squatting came from. He then dropped his pile of wood in horror; Squat Peon had stopped counting!

Squat Peon muttered to himself as he rushed to pick up the logs he had dropped, ignoring all of the warlike preparations of those around him. Conveniently forgetting he could not count, Squat Peon was now even angrier that he had lost his count and would have to start all over again. Not that he minded, he liked Squatting a lot, but he did not like the counting part. Counting was hard.

Squat Peon made sure to Squat for every log he picked up. Squat Peon sometimes lost logs and had to pick them up again. People were returning to normal after a few minutes with no invasion. Squat Peon was still log collecting and Squatting. It did not occur to him that the supply run guards, Allowyn, Orhuume, Doshaqa, and Kenrid, had been gone for a long time. Nor did it occur to him that Wol'vok, had been gone a while too. Squat Peon had also too busy Squatting to see Conclave member Jof'wazi return with a mutilated Shadowmoon Orc corpse.

It took Squat Peon so long to pick up his logs, that when a purple mass of void energy came flying in over the walls from the north-east, he was still at it. As he bent down to pick up one of the final logs, he felt something get reflected off of his Iron Buns. Squat Peon finished picking up the log. Squat Peon turned around. Squat Peon noticed the shadow magic mass on the ground in front of him.

Squat Peon considered the situation, and then made a decision. Nodding in firm resolve of what he was about to do; Squat Peon turned back around. Squat Peon Squatted down. Squat Peon squished the mass of life draining void magic with his Iron Buns. Squat Peon Squatted back up. Squat Peon turned back around, and saw no more Bad Orc Non-Squatting Magic. Squat Peon grunted in satisfaction.

Squat Peon looked around, and he saw that there were more small pockets of shadow magic, and so he repeated his act of Squatting the magic away.

Squat Peon then got back to the very important task of Squatting without interruption. And all was well in Dread'mar.  

#Dreadsunder Warband #Squat Peon #Wyrmrest Accord #Horde #Allowyn's Writing

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*Allowyn intensifies*

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Allowyn suffered a little glitch….But she seems happy enough about it!

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i guess i’ll upload some stuff here i mean why not eh!!

#inspiration #Tauren #Druid #Tauren Druid

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Cutie Tauren commissions are the way to my heart.

♥Available on my Society6 store as a print, T-shirt, cards and more! ♥

DeviantArt Page  |   Sketch Tumblr  |   Society6 Store

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Tranquility

#Inspiration #Tauren #Druid #Orc #Blood Elf

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The Roleplayers by Zirngibl

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"Teina Cloudstalker" by NamesJames

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A commission for LadyAllowyn of her Tauren druid from World of Warcraft.

#Allowyn Spirithoof #Tauren #Horde #Obsidian Storm

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The masses of the Iron Horde surrounded Stonard, and the Warband; this raggedy collection of Orcs, Sin’dorei, Forsaken, Trolls, and Tauren, all stood shoulder to shoulder. Narrowed eyes watched the lines, Chimeras and Wyverns and Wolves all broke the silence with barely concealed challenge cries.

One lone Druid, a limp in her right side, shouldered her way into the forefront of the defenders line. Eyes flickered towards her, glances from recent friends, and new pairs that she had not yet met. A few watched as she shifted, her form bulking massively, hulking over those beside her, the razor sharp teeth and fore-claws glinting in the dim swamp light. “Move.” She growled lowly, forcing an orc to shuffle to make room for her.

On the other side of the now-bear, a one armed troll wielding a chainsaw eyed her up and down. His collection of battle scars matched her own, and his eyes gleamed wickedly.

“LET MEH RIDE YA’?! WILL BEH SOOOOO FUN!”

Allowyn Spirithoof turned to the leather clad troll she called brother, even in the absence of a name. Her form was not really for riding, as formidable as the sight would be.

“I doubt you could stay on.” she stated simply. The words came out in growls and were snapped off in the mouth that was not really shaped for speech.

Evidently he chose to not wait for a response, as halfway through her sentence her leapt onto her back. His legs gripped just behind her shoulders, and she barely felt his weight on her back.

“I will take my chances!” he said madly, pointing his fist weapon towards the enemy.

And so a one armed, chainsaw waving troll rode a massive bear-druid into battle, and while she charged over and crushed any Iron Horde in her way, he hacked at any that attacked from the sides. They left in their wake a pile of half crushed and limbless orc bodies, and exited the field covered in blood. And it was a good day that dawned on Stonard.  

#Allowyn's Writing #Allowyn Spirithoof #Wyrmrest Accord #Dreadsunder Warband