Content Warnings:

If you see (adult) next to any of the stories, chances are there are things there that aren't kid-appropriate. Be it extreme violence or sex or any other thing you wouldn't want your twelve year old reading about. If the story is out-of-this world mature, I'll add a note at the beginning to warn the reader in more detail.

There are no pornographic images hosted on this website. The author claims no responsibility for content that may be found on other sites that are linked. Basically, if Barnes and Nobles (at least the one where I live) wouldn't stop a minor from buying it, it can be found here.

Enjoy and please don't copy.

     Stars twinkled in the cloudless night sky. The full moon shone
 brightly. I'wilo dismounted and removed the saddle, leaving his raptor
 free to search the tall grass for small animals to terrorize. He placed
 the saddle on the ground and picked up the package, having laid it
 aside to deal with his mount.

     Holding the parcel to his bare chest, I'wilo paused to admire the
 beautiful animal; its magenta scales glimmering a deep blue-violet in
 the low light. It regarded him briefly, curved white teeth winking brightly
 in its permanently fixed grin. The dinosaur turned and lumbered off,
                                                 tail twitching in its wake.

    I'wilo smiled broadly, his own teeth showing in the dark as he shook his head and turned - his smile froze.

    There, on the ground at the foot of the tee-pee, was a perfect likeness of I'wilo's own face. His grip loosened on the package he was carrying and he caught it just before it could tumble to the ground, his breath hissing in between his teeth. His eyes never left the picture as he stood for several minutes, mesmerized by the way his own depiction sneered back at him; the upper lip lifted crookedly, just as his own naturally did.

    It was likely he'd have stayed that way, head craned forward, eyes fixed on the ground, blinking dumbly, but then the picture began to move. The grains of sand that comprised the more minute details rolled away to quickly form a halo around the image. The effect was hypnotic, as the sand flew away and reorganized itself in a circle that built up higher and his own portrait faded back into the earth.

    Finally, only a perfect circle with a very smooth, blank center remained. The sand that marked the edges then lifted several inches into the air and began to spin rapidly until a swirling vortex had formed. The tiny tornado tilted from side to side, dancing madly on its tapered tail before I'wilo's wide-eyed gaze. Suddenly, the sand fell to the ground with an audible whump.

    Still holding the package tightly, I'wilo gazed at the new rendering; that of a perfect cupcake. "Pasteh", he began to mouth the word. His comment was interrupted by a deep, bestial growl that sounded within his friend's home. I'wilo's eyes snapped up sharply as the sound repeated itself.

    It was dark inside of the tent. I'wilo let the flap fall behind him... There was no point in keeping it open, as the moonlight stopped just at the threshold, barred by unseen magic. The dark enveloped him as he stepped further in, his long ears twitching as his pupils dilated and overtook the crimson irises, searching the impenetrable blackness.

    Suddenly, the tee-pee erupted in a brilliant glow, so bright that I'wilo quickly closed his eyes and brought up his free hand to cover them. "Dimmah!", he cried. After a moment's pause, the light obediently dimmed. Slowly, hesitantly, the troll lowered his hand and blinked several times to clear the negative image of several glowing orbs at his peripheral vision. He raised his eyebrows at the beast before him.

    It was a bear, or a parody of one. The creature was grotesquely massive, dominating the inside of the tent, whose interior was at least ten times the size it appeared to be from the outside. It was obvious that this was no trick of the light, the tee-pee's plain, small exterior being another deception perpetuated by the inherent magic of the place where it had been erected.

    The bear sat back on its haunches, the whites of its eyes showing in shocking contrast to the black fur that surrounded them. I'wilo could easily have fit inside of the monster bear's mouth, whose black lips were peeled back in an unsettling grin that showed two rows of pointed, yellow teeth.

    I'wilo's jewelry was dwarfed by the huge, golden ring that swung heavily from the bear's nostrils, thick enough to have fit around I'wilo's thigh. The bear panted heavily, the tip of it's tongue twitching in the gap between the upper and lower front teeth as it stared at him unblinkingly.

    The creature was framed by a pair of huge, thick vines that curled out of the floor on either side of the tent. Each of the vines split in two at their tops, and the tips ended, instead of with flowers, in golden spheres of light the size of the troll's head. The four spheres, which had at first blinded the troll, now perfectly illuminated the inside of the massive tent.

    The bear shook its head suddenly, spittle flying from its slavering jaws as it closed its eyes and the loose skin on its neck twisted from side to side. The mane that ran down the length of its spine wiggled as it continued to shake itself.

    "Ya almost mehd meh drop yah pastehs, broddah", I'wilo furrowed his brow as he admonished the startled-looking monster. Blinking rapidly, the bear began to shrink, and as it shrunk, it began to appear hazy, losing substance. For a split second, it became completely unrecognizable and then it was replaced entirely... by a very plain, if a bit dumb-looking tauren.

    The tauren, a big, dark brown, minotaur-like creature, regarded the troll with liquid brown eyes. He was frowning, his bottom lip pouting out in a very childlike manner. Everything the druid did was always childlike, to the point that at a glance he appeared to be a feeble-minded idiot. In a certain sense, the tauren was more than a bit addled, due to a long-ago accident that nearly took his life. But I'wilo knew better than to underestimate his friends wisdom and power... and propensity for mischief.

    "Ya feelin' plehfahl todeh, Kekkeh. Ah cahn see see daht." Kekkek chortled in response, raising his huge fists in the air as he drummed at the ground with the heels of his massive hooves. I'wilo quirked an eyebrow and lifted his chin to the side as he shook his head, "Now if ya go tehnin' me intah sahmtin' Ah've got no business o' bein', ya pahl Wil gonna rahn oah fly oah slithah right out dis tent ahnd leave ya all on yah lonesahm."

    Kekkek's laughter gave way to an alarmed gasp as he stilled his legs and pointed at the troll with one giant finger, the hoof-like protuberance that served as a fingernail covered in sand. His other hand he still held up in a fist, squeezing at the air until the skin on his knuckles, invisible beneath the dark brown fur, became several shades paler. His eyes were as round as dinner plates.

    I'wilo's expression softened as he folded his long legs, his black pants bunching at the knees as he lowered himself to the floor. "Ah've got sahmtin' foah ya." While the floor beneath him resembled sand, it felt as smooth and cool as tile. Nothing regarding Kekkek was ever as it seemed.

    Tail twitching frantically behind him, Kekkek lowered his fist to his lap and slowly turned over the hand that was pointing at I'wilo, spreading the fingers to reveal his palm. He looked at the troll.

    "Cupcup", he stated simply.

    Opening the box and placing it between them himself and the druid, I'wilo couldn't help but chuckle. Kekkek's entire demeanor had changed instantly, and he now held his hand out with unwavering expectation, stating "cupcup" in a kingly, regal tone that left no room for argument.

    "Coahs Ah brought ya cahpcahp, Kekkeh. Ya know Ah alwehs do." He plucked one of the garishly iced confections and placed it in the center of Kekkek's hand. Without hesitation, the tauren lifted his hand to his face and pressed the 'cupcup' between his fat lips, sucking the pink icing into his mouth but sparing plenty for his chin.

    Outside of the tee-pee, I'wilo's raptor lifted its head briefly at the sound of his laughter. Although the lizard stood right next to the tent, the sound was very far away and it quickly lost interest.

    After shoving five of the cupcakes into his muzzle, Kekkek lifted the last one from the box and held it out toward I'wilo's face. "Cupcup?", he grinned. I'wilo shook his head, waving the cupcake away. "Ya know Ah don't like daht stuff. Daht's all yah's broddah." Kekkek nodded and fed himself the last cupcake, spraying crumbs as he asked, "F-foohoo?".

    The troll shook his head again, shrugging, "Still fahstin' broddah, but tank ya." I'wilo hadn't had anything but water for three days now. If anyone understood his decision to fast from time to time, it was Kekkek. Not that he'd ever seen Kekkek abstain from food. The tauren seemed to understand all things spiritual, never needing to question I'wilo's sometimes superstitious behavior.

    "Live", Kekkek said. It was the druid's answer for many things, but I'wilo found it to be of more value than the lengthy and sage advice of many he'd met in his travels. "Live", I'wilo repeated. Both friends nodded, the tauren more dramatically.

    Kekkek folded his hands in his lap, shrugged and tilted his head, smiling crookedly as he forced his upper left lip to rise in a sneer. I'wilo began to do the same, but noted the mimicry and stopped himself, his cheeks coloring with uncharacteristic self-consciousness. He quickly recovered from the jest and tapped his own upper right lip. "Ya got da wrong side." The tauren tried, unsuccessfully to make his right lip lift but gave up after a minute or two. Kekkek shrugged again and I'wilo shook his head, smiling (crookedly) before rising and holding up a finger at Kekkek.

    I'wilo turned to exit the tee-pee. As he stepped into the cool night air, he noted that the image in the sand had gone. The temperature had dropped significantly in the time he'd been inside, but his raptor, whose unmistakable silhouette he could see in the distance, seemed unperturbed as it bent shook its head. Something stringing hung from its jaws and it threw its head back to swallow it before bending once again to rip free another chunk of the hapless prey.

    Grabbing the discarded saddle, I'wilo dragged it closer to the deceptively small-looking abode, before opening his saddlebags to retrieve several dozen plain leather pouches that were filled and cinched tightly with long drawstrings.

    From the bags, he also produced sealed vials of paint and a rolled and tied mat filled with assorted brushes. Finally, he removed a few fistfuls of beads, which he shoved into his pockets along with some thick needles and a wide spool of catgut.

    I'wilo brought the armload of supplies back into the tee-pee. He was still awed by the tent's massive interior, though he'd witnessed this and other such tricks often during the year since he'd met the druid. Upon reentering the tee-pee, he found Kekkek much the same, seated at the dwelling's center, glowing orbs illuminating the vast space that surrounded him and highlighting the pink icing that still clung to his chin hairs.

    I'wilo sat close to his good friend, placing the many overstuffed and bulging leather pouches - soon to be what I'wilo referred to as "j'jua pouches" - between them. Smiling serenely, Kekkek gently picked up a single pouch, pinching the cord that bound it between the little black hooves of his thumb and forefinger.

    The druid, Kekkek, was a normal-looking tauren, for the most part. He had the broad, powerful build typical of his kind, a very bovine head (though to call a tauren a "bull" or, gods forbid, a "cow" would be perceived by many as fighting words.) with a broad muzzle and large, flaring nostrils.

    He was just over 7' tall, average height for a male tauren. His big brown eyes did often take on the vacant cast of the farm animal his kind so resembled. This could easily be attributed to the same grievous injury that had left him short one long, curved horn and permanently scrambled the part of his brain that controlled speech.

    Said injury also left a long crack or furrow that ran the length of the tauren's skull; a flaw that was not visible to the eye, but which became apparent when one laid a hand atop his head. The horn never grew back but remained a cracked stump that lent the tauren a very unbalanced look. I'wilo assumed the druid prevented the horn's regrowth by magical means for some personal reason... maybe just on an eccentric whim. Gods knew he entertained many of those.

    Though tauren generally carried themselves upright, their backs protruded in a hump that blended the back of their head with the spine, giving the impression that they had no proper neck when viewed from behind. Kekkek was no different in this regard, nor was it unique that he sported a thick, horse-like mane that ran from his skull down part of his spine.

    As far as garments were concerned, I'wilo had seen the tauren in all manner of dress, from regal robes to a plain loincloth. He'd even visited on one or two occasions, to find the druid was stark naked, though it never fazed the troll. I'wilo himself often wore next-to-nothing compared to others that made their home this side of Azeroth. Sometimes his lack of clothing earned him awkward glances. He hailed from a much cooler clime, though he didn't mind the stares. If they affected them at all they only served to amuse him.

    Nudity was not the tauren's wardrobe choice this evening, though the garb (of sorts) that he wore was no less natural. Tonight, Kekkek was wrapped in morning glories and bright emerald ivory.

    Still-living, the plants snaked up from the impossibly smooth floor and wound their way over and around the tauren's body, curling up his midsection to continue along his prominent back hunch, the vines and leaves blending with his mane rather than obscuring it.

    A single, thin vine had found its way to the tip of the undamaged horn and a bright purple morning glory blossom perched there.

    The blossom turned to face the nearest light as Kekkek bowed his great, shaggy head to inspect the pouch that hung and spun on its cord. He snorted and shook his mane absently as he gently lowered the pouch onto the palm of his other outstretched hand. As pouch met palm, a wondrous green glow formed, radiating from between the tauren's fingers as he closed them over the pouch.

    I'wilo recognized this green aura, not as the fetid taint of the demonic burning legion, which had corrupted not only many of the hapless orcs but all manner of fauna and flora as they sought entrance into Azeroth... No, this was the glow that permeated everything in the parts of the Emerald Dream that remained untouched by the mysteriously frightening and ever-growing Nightmare.

    Though he had no business being in the Dream, I'wilo recognized the signature shade from personal experience.

    His mind began to wander to the day when Kekkek had brought him into the dream, allowing him a brief glimpse of the beauty of the land... a mirror of the same Azeroth where they lived, but different... perfect and untouched, the way the Creators had intended. And that clean, emerald glow had permeated everything there. It would have been a pleasant journey, had there not been the foreboding presence of the nightmare and the thing that had lashed out at the pair, failing to reach them but still coming far too close for I'wilo's comfort.

    Then they'd been back in their version of Azeroth and I'wilo had sobbed like a weak human whelp, trembling in his friend's embrace. Kekkek had apologized silently as he stroked the huge troll's clammy brow. It was a rare moment for the troll... one of the very few times he had been truly afraid. One of two times thus far that he could remember ever weeping.

    I'wilo blinked and shook his head to clear the unpleasant memory. He'd only had a glimpse of the dark, nightmare presence and he wasn't sure what he had seen or if he'd even seen anything, but it had been there and it had been far worse than anything he could fathom.

    The troll's thoughts became quite calm as he regarded the tauren's vacant gaze. Many would have said that Kekkek had "checked out", and he had, in a sense but now he was turned inward. Though he appeared to be asleep, he was concentrating on the task at hand. The glow continued to pulsate through and around the druid's closed fist as he infused the pouch with power.

   I'wilo blinked slowly as he too became lost in Kekkek's gaze, drawn in easily until he was floating from instance to instance, revisiting some of his fondest memories and experiencing them anew.

    Both tauren and troll squeezed their eyes shut simultaneously and then blinked them open. Kekkek licked his wide lips with his thick, slimy tongue. "K-kekek ka kakek... hooh... hoohoo."

    I'wilo blinked, waiting patiently. Kekkek snorted and stuck his fat tongue out, slapping it with his own hand and rolling his eyes in frustration. He took a deep breath and spoke again, more loudly, "F-fiffoor f-fuffeer... f-fooor hahooha. KEK! hahaaart."

    Lifting a brush and reaching for a jar of red paint, I'wilo narrowed his eyes, the druid reflected in the bright crimson pupils as he ventured, "A feah woahd? Ta give ya haht? To woahd off feah?"

    To hear the two speak, one might think they were speaking their own personal language and not plain orcish. Kekkek nodded, grinning and letting out a quiet, "Kek".

    I'wilo accepted the pouch back from the tauren and quickly painted a simple depiction of a heart before sliding two beads, one black and one red, down the drawstring cord. He placed the j'jua pouch aside and handed a second to Kekkek.

    The sensation of sharing in the druid's magic was both pleasant and calming for the young hunter.

    "Kek. Ka.", Kekkek snorted and bopped himself on the skull with one fist. "Sor.. s-sorsor... kek ... sorsorsoreehee."

    I'wilo nodded, "Sosoreh woahd... dahk mahgic." "Kek!". He chose black paint this time, drawing a symbol that roughly resembled an eye in the center of a circle. He chose and applied a single bead of white quartz. Another j'jua pouch, this one meant to serve as a ward against dark sorcery, was complete. He added it to the other and handed a third pouch over.

    They repeated the ritual for several hours, together creating enchanted pouches for all different purposes... Many to ward off harmful forces, others to strengthen the positive attributes of the wearer or attract a specific energy that might be necessary for a journey or battle.

    I'wilo didn't know the names or faces of those who would wear the pouches, but he knew from experience that for every single pouch they made he would meet an individual whose needs it matched perfectly. Whether they knew it or not.

    And for those that refused to take the pouch from the imposing troll with the bizarre manner of self-decoration and the suspicious accent, well, he would say a prayer to his own gods and break the pouch open in their name, or do whatever other ritual happened to feel appropriate at the spur of the moment.

    I'wilo had broken many pouches, and he would break many more. In a world where many nations were at war over territory or simple prejudice, where even demons from other dimensions sought to invade and destroy every living thing... a world of bandits and mercenaries, mindless undead scourge creatures controlled by a power-insane Lich King, and constant battling between races, species, and factions... it was a small wonder that people didn't trust a gigantic, tattooed and painted troll who offered magic pouches to strangers and didn't ask for anything in return.

    Indeed, it wasn't rare for I'wilo's signature, "Live, lahv, ahnd celahbret! Weh meh wake ahp dead tomorrow!" to be met with rude gestures, barely concealed threats and the like. But for it all, I'wilo was a basically content troll. And, judging by the regular bouts of merry chortling, Kekkek was a happy tauren.

    Kekkek laughed now, as he infused another pouch with the inherent energies found in all of Azeroth, tapped into by varying degrees, by all druids. "D-dehe-d-d-d... kek kek! Ded. HA! Dedeheth."

    ... "Death?", I'wilo tilted his head curiously, his hand frozen midair over the assortment of paints. Kekkek nodded, chuckling quietly. "Death.", he repeated again, lowering the brush as he looked at the druid. Kekkek nodded.

    "... ahnd daht mehk ya lahf, Kekkeh?" The troll's prominent brow furrowed as he contemplated this. Bright red eyes gazed into warm brown ones and I'wilo shook his head, confused but not concerned, as he painted a black skull on the bag and slid a black and silver marbled bead on, before tying in a crow feather. He felt compelled to sew on a few more small beads, and so he did, reaching for the catgut and needle and working diligently, his eyes trained on Kekkek all the while. When he was finished, the crude skull was surrounded by a rainbow of small glass and stone beads. "Death."

    Despite the death's head that adorned the now-colorful pouch, the ahik (as the troll would have termed it) that could be felt radiating from within was in no way malicious. Without questioning the druid's reaction any further, I'wilo reached out and handed over the final, yet-to-be-enchanted pouch.

    Sucking his lips into his mouth and flaring his nostrils, Kekkek leaned forward suddenly and wrapped the troll's wrist in a firm grip. They stared into each others' eyes and I'wilo suddenly closed his, his hands clenching and unclenching on his thighs as he knelt, though he felt the strong urge to bring them to his chest.

    His heart. His heart ached miserably, eliciting a quiet sigh from the naturally stoic troll. The pain there wasn't Kekkek's doing, rather the druid had sought the ache and brought it forward for some reason.

    I'wilo normally chose not to dwell on this burden, but rather to live, love, and celebrate... "foah weh meh wehk ahp dead tomorrow." But now Kekkek was digging out his sorrow and though it wasn't likely his intention in doing so, he was hurting I'wilo horribly.

    Hurting his spirit.

    But through the raw and painful emotion that gripped him and quickened his breath as his friend still held his wrist, I'wilo recognized he was safe. Whatever he sought to do was for the troll's benefit.

    After a few moments that felt like an eternity, Kekkek released his wrist and sat back. I'wilo remained still, his eyes closed as he felt the pain he'd become so accustomed to burying sink back in that hidden place in his heart. A few minutes passed before he opened his eyes.

    Kekkek pointed and I'wilo followed the tauren's gaze to behold his own shaking hand, still holding the paint-slicked brush. He lifted it slowly, tired suddenly, and handed it to the druid. Kekkek nodded and pointed at a green pot of paint. I'wilo obediently handed it over. With a few careless swipes, Kekkek painted a sloppy symbol. It was all spheres and jagged edges and the paint dripped thickly. He handed it to I'wilo.

    "L-la-live... L-l-l-lala... Lo-loss."

    "Loss", I'wilo whispered, taking the pouch and pulling the cord over his head, letting it drop around his neck. The pouch fell against his chest and for a moment it felt heavy against his heart, though in reality it weighed barely more than an ounce. I'wilo took another deep breath and let it out in a sigh. Some of the excess paint dripped off the pouch and left a streak on I'wilo's flat stomach. He didn't notice or care.

    "L-live", Kekkek reminded him. "Ah keep doin' it, Kekkeh. Ah keep livin'." The troll yawned tiredly, not bothering to cover his mouth, but instead scratching the back of his head with one hand, letting the other lay on his thigh. Kekkek gestured toward something behind I'wilo and when he turned he was not entirely surprised to behold a hammock formed by a pair of short trees, their branches intertwined to form a spacious sleeping surface.

With another yawn and a grateful nod the troll stood, patting his friend on the shoulder, and turned to climb into the hammock, pausing only to remove his weapon belt and pants... the latter of which he walked out of rather than pulled off.

    The hammock was comfortable and seemed to swing ever so slightly after the tired troll had settled down. The lights that bloomed on either side of the druid dimmed very gradually and I'wilo found himself returning the druid's gaze dreamily. Kekkek didn't move or a make a sound, but kept his eyes fixed on I'wilo's, never moving from his seat on the tee-pee floor. Before he knew it, I'wilo was dreaming.

    And in his sleep, somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the pouch still against his chest, and his heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time.

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