The study in lack of fashion sense stood yawning sleepily on her balcony in the hero’s rest. Blearily she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, muttering darkly at the commotion on the streets of Dalaran below.
She poked the still snoring pink haired gnome on the bed in the ribs.
“Get up Napth, something big is happening.”
“Jus fie mor minut lov.”
Rhane sighed. There was no waking the gnome if she didn’t want waking. Instead she pulled off her bright pink pyjamas, and began to gird herself in her armour.
For the most part it was intricately sculpted titanium, some of the finest work The Alliance’s armour smiths had ever created. As she did every morning, Rhane sighed softly upon looking at it. As a dedicated member of the mitheral order, and grandmaster armour smith in her own right she could appreciate the exquisite craftsmanship like few others. And, like every morning, she regretted, at least slightly, that she couldn’t simply spend her days practicing her art. And just like every morning, she pushed aside the regret. It might have been good to be a smith all the time, but while she knew many smiths who were her betters, she knew very few warriors who were her equals. Mabye in a couple of thousand years she might be ready to retire to an armoury somewhere in Ironforge, but for now, there were scourge to be slain. The titanium plating embraced her body comfortingly, securing her in a fashion that, although she’d never admit it, the arms of her gnomish lover never could. Out of sheer habit from spending too much time campaigning in Silithius, she shook her armoured boots upside down to check for stingers before sliding the evil looking Saronite greaves on, their blackish green clashing horribly with the burnished blue of her armour. She stamped several times, the plate clashing loudly as it settled into place then scooped a light purple helmet off the nightstand. Carefully she tucked her foot long ears through the holes she had carefully cut and padded settling the wicked looking axe crested monstrosity into place. Concealed by the helmet, she twisted her face horribly for a second, then relaxed. As a result of the contortions, her whisker like eyebrows popped through the holes she had cut specifically for them. It was, Rhane considered, the worst thing about being a warrior. Very few helmets were designed by Sentinels. Those few that were, tended to be more suited for those night elf warriors who favoured ranged combat. This was the best helmet she’d ever owned, but it had obviously been made by some orc or something before the dragon had eaten him and stashed I in her lair. It had taken days of work to cut the holes, then file and pad them so a rough edge wouldn’t accidentally sever an ear and leave her looking like senior Morri. It was worth it though, to have access to her normal sensory suite. For what was possibly the millionth time since encountering the other races of Azaroth, she wondered how such tiny ears could hear, and how anyone could read the wind with such insignificant eyebrows. She was ready to face the day. All that was needed now was a gnome by her side.
“NAPTH!” she bellowed. The pink pigtails twitched. Rhane sighed in frustration. Taking her double bitted axe up carefully, she used its wickedly spiked center to carefully pull back the covers. Foom! A ball of arcane fire shot from the hand of the now awakened gnome, passing exactly where it would have been logical for a normal person to pull back the covers. It hit the target pained crudely onto the wall, where it set the paint to smouldering. Attracted by the bustling noise, the short, tubby naked gnome wondered to the balcony, and began jumping to see over the rail. Grinning, Rhane removed her gauntletsn and picked her up, covering her gnomish assets with her relatively enormous hands and lifting her high enough to see while protecting her modesty.
“Ohhh.. It looks exciting down there. Why don’t we go and find out what the fuss is?” Behind her ugly hat Rhane grinned. If there was one thing guaranteed to get a gnome firing on all 6 steam engines first thing in the morning, it was the prospect of something new and unusual. And it was having a reaction that even Rhane’s hands, calloused from the forge and swinging axes in anger could read. She didn’t have to look at napths face to see the wicked grin that was plastered over it, she knew it was there by the way the gnome was wiggling.v “Or perhaps we could go back to bed for a few hours, and wait the intital fuss out.”
In her oh to innocent voice Napth spoke “But I’m not sleepy any more!”
Rhane laughed loudly. “I didn’t say sleep. I thaught we might play a game.”
“Ohh which game is that?”
“Well I was thinking Twing Twang.”
The noise from outside grew louder as people raised their voices in bitter complaint over something or other, but the pair didn’t care. Rhane’s armour was scattered back over the floor, and the two were making quite enough noise to drown out the racket.