Post by Deleted on Jan 17, 2010 15:18:08 GMT -5
((Update - 12/2010))
Raven hair that falls to mid-back is pulled back and held with a simple clip made of some viridian stone. Wisps of hair frame her face and spill into her eyes, which has her constantly brushing them away. Perfectly sculpted eyebrows arch over her icy blue eyes. The eyes glow with an inner fire that marks her as a member of the Ebon Blade. Her skin still has a healthy tone, as if she had been reanimated very quickly after she fell, but there is still that hint of death present. Her lips are full and slightly pouty, while the corners are nearly always curved into a friendly smile.
Her body is very strong and capable, which translates into deadly effectiveness in battle. Yet, the way in which she carries herself is extremely feminine. Her body is rather attractive when not shrouded from head to toe in plate armor. She was gifted with an ample chest, slender waist, curvy hips, and long legs. Her muscles are firm and toned, perhaps a bit much for the taste of some, but not outrageously so.
There are relatively few marks on her skin, but the most noticeable is a perfectly straight scar about the length of a palm, excluding the fingers, just above her left breast exactly over her heart. It did not look like a wound that one would have received during battle, which is perhaps why it is so noticeable. Three runes are inscribed in a line down her spine. The first is a scarlet blood rune emblazoned between her shoulder blades. The second is a cobalt frost rune drawn mid-way down her back, nearly even with the base of her rib cage. The third is a chartreuse unholy rune crafted on the small of her back, nearly touching her bottom. They are easily missed, unless one is looking for them or she is seen during an intense activity, such as battle. The rest of her skin is smooth, soft, and cold – almost icy – to the touch.
She carries herself with an air of confidence that may be misconstrued as arrogance, but her interactions with others lay those thoughts to rest. Kindness and compassion are ever-present expressions on her face. Rather than the stench of undeath that follow some of her kind, she leaves the pleasant scents of peacebloom and mageroyal in her wake. Her unique voice echoes with the power that animates her, but that is rarely noticed over the tones of sincerity and kindness that color it.
((Update - 11/2010 | Note: Sumi in tauren form continues as in her 10/2010 Update. Thanks!))
The hustle and bustle in the streets of the floating mage city, Dalaran, makes the relative silence of The Filthy Animal a welcome reprieve. The banging of pots and pans, requests for ale and the like from the bar, and the sultry comments from the dancing barmaids, is a somewhat relaxing ambiance. You take heavy and exhausted steps, dragging your packs and satchels behind you, toward one of the many cooking tables scattered around the open lower level of the inn. Longing for a chair, rather than the cold, hard floor covered only by a woven rug, has you peering around for some sort of compromise. There are tables laden with food, and matching benches, to your right as you enter, but it is chilly and a place by the fire would be more satisfying. So, with a heavy sigh, you remove your cloak. Folded into a sort of pillow, you place it under the table and plop down on top of it. The floor was not as cold as you had assumed, but the make-shift cushion was better than the hard floor. Heat from the table’s surface, and the warmth from the fire, starts to warm you through the armor you wear. You remove your gloves, one finger at a time, and place them next to your knee. That is followed by the furious rubbing of your hands together.
‘Mittens would be nice,’ you think to yourself, ‘At least my body heat would keep my fingers warm. But, Fel knows how hard it is to fight in mittens.’ You laugh to yourself, shaking your head, pulling one of your packs closer to you. As you sift through the sundry objects haphazardly thrown inside, you are deciding whether you were looking for your coin purse or your preserved rations. Movement from near the fireplace catches your attention and you look up to see what was causing it.
A large cat, not unlike the lions that prowl The Barrens, lies before the giant fireplace. The sleek fur covering the agile frame is a black so dark that it almost seems blue. It is situated on the bear skin rug, which sits to the right of the hearth. Its chin is resting on top of the deceased bear’s head and its massive paws lay motionless beside it. It looks harmless enough, lying there asleep, so you don’t bother to hide the fact that you’re staring at it. You tear your gaze away to look for the hunter to whom this lion should belong. After all, you have seen one or two black lions in your adventures around Azeroth. They are rare, but they do exist. Besides a priest and a mage sitting at the bar, there doesn’t appear to be anyone else on the lower level. You picked yourself up and walked passed the cat to the stairs along the back wall of the inn. It only took three steps to be able to see that there was no one there either.
‘Strange,’ you think, returning to your seat at the cooking table. You adjust the cloak cushion and reclaim your place. You look around to see if anyone else was intrigued by the beast lying there, but everyone else seemed indisposed with whatever it was that they were doing. Another flick of motion draws your attention back, but this time you catch the tail swishing back and forth. She lifted her head from its resting place and turned to stare right at you. You averted your gaze quickly, as if to imply that you hadn’t been staring. When you next sneak a glance in its direction, it is gone. A voice is then heard as the cat slinks out of what seems like thin air behind you.
“Did your mother forget to tell you that it is impolite to stare?” the voice asked. It was definitely female, though it was deep and there was a trace of either purr or growl in it. You secretly hoped that it was the former. “What do you want?” It was a simple enough question, but you couldn’t find the words to provide a quick answer. She stalked around your right side and sat before you. “Well?” she asked again. Her face was not as harsh as her voice had led you to believe.
Golden eyes that seemed to glow with their own inner light peered into your own. As she blinked and the glow was momentarily interrupted, you would catch a glimpse of an odd color – not yellow-green or amber as you had expected, but something else entirely. It could have been pink. She blinked again and you changed your mind. They were light purple. The unusual eyes draw your attention to markings that started at the inside corner of her eyes and continued a few inches down her cheeks. They were red – as if she’d been crying blood instead of tears. She had no eyebrows to speak of, but there were some short whiskers protruding from where they would be, and some trick of the light traced the outlines above her eyes. Topping that, her mane framed her face. It was a lighter color than the rest of her fur, and not as thick, full, and majestic as one would expect. Instead, it was short, fine, and fuzzy – more like a lion cub than an adult.
There was almost no indentation separating her nose from the forehead under her measly mane. Her face appeared nearly flat. On each side of her muzzle, three crimson lines were etched, like scars, into her fur. They started just behind her nose and ended just before the lines from her eyes. The nose itself seemed to be just the rounded end of her snout. The nostrils were shaped like a bird in flight as viewed from the ground – the section of skin separating the nostrils was much like the body, while the nostrils themselves resembled outstretched wings. Below the ‘body’ section of her nose, her prow was devided into the characteristic feline mouth. Her lips were split into two rounded sections one on each side. Her bottom lip completed her face, making her muzzle appear to be egg-shaped with the fatter end on top. There was something about the face that made you believe that she could display a wide variety of emotions and expressions.
“Hello-o,” she said rather sarcastically, and your suspicions were right. Her ‘eyebrows’ were raised and her eyes were full of irritation. Her mouth was set somewhere between a frown and a scowl. The purr had subtly become more growl, “Either you tell me what you want with me or I will show you to the door – none too gently, I might add.” You stammer a meek apology, holding your hands up in the air. She snorts through her nose at you and stalks back over to her seat on the rug that had once been a bear. While she turns, you take advantage of the opportunity to inspect the rest of her while she wasn’t looking.
Protruding out of her skimpy mane, rounded ears were folded back against her neck. There was a scarlet spot, about the size of a gold piece, at the tip of each one. Fastened around her neck was a vermillion collar. Stitched in bold, black letters was something too far away to make out. Hanging from the collar were two small decorations: a tiny paw of some kind, flanked by animal teeth and separated by beads; and, below that, a strange orb that was too small to really identify.
Decorating each shoulder were burgundy runes marking her as a druid. The runes resemble a crescent moon embracing the sun. You silently chide yourself for having not noticed them before. However, as she stalks to her place by the fire, the runes all but disappear into the ebony fur. You could only have seen them if you knew that they were there.
Her rolling gait drew attention to her nimble body. The muscles of her shoulders, back, and legs worked fluidly beneath her skin as she swaggered away from you. She picked her way across the floor, around broken bottles and the like, until she came to her spot. Turning three times, she curled herself into a ball on the rug and began to lick her sizable paw. Her tail rose and fell as if compelled by the beat of a drum, yet there was no music. Some trick of the firelight backlit her mane, illuminating the sparkles of sapphire blue scattered throughout her mane and coat. You have a somewhat amazed look on your face as your gaze takes in her entirety. She stopped licking her paw, though it is still near her mouth. Her glare shoots daggers at you while her face displays a mix of apprehension, irritation, and levity.
“I thought you said you did not have business with me,” she remarked, returning her attention to her paw. Looking at you, she speaks between licks, “Well…then,” she snorts. Her paw is lowered to the rug and she adjusts herself into a laying position on her belly, “You had better tell me your name…” the pause was intimidating, “…Because, I need to know what to put on your tombstone.” With that, she stands, creeps toward you, prepares to pounce! And then promptly disappears. The sound of laughter seems to bounce off the walls and echo in the room. There is no way for you to know where it was coming from, so you sit there bracing yourself for a blow.
But, it never came. She is gone. And you feel rather silly.
((What Sumi would look like if she were a real lion:))
((And what she sounds like/how she acts:))
((Update - 10/2010))
Sumi is still a runt compared to other tauren, but her body still captures the attention of many bulls. Her fur is still as black as ebony, though it seems to be graying ever so slightly. Odd highlights continue to wink in a flash of sapphire when the sun shines just so, yet her lovely braids have been hacked off just below her shoulders and are now bound with straps made of thick, tanned leather. Lavender eyes – the same color as mageroyal – still captivate those who see them, but not with the innocence that they had once held. Despite the signs of aging that any tauren undergoes, there is something markedly different about her.
She is very rarely intimidated now, standing boldly rather than cowering. Harsh words leap to her tongue just as easily as kind ones had before. The usually sweet demeanor that she had always presented is now spicier. Her smiles have morphed into grins. Eyes that once held possibility are now filled with practicality. And, even her tail has been forgotten.
Many new things have been added to the sparse collection attached about her person. The tribal necklace made of small, brown beads and a small, grey wolf’s paw still adorns her neck, but teeth and claws have been added – trophies of her recent kills. Red and black feathers have been tied into her mane, taken from the Swoops around Bloodhoof Village. A cluster of beads hangs from each leather strap binding her hair – two red, two blue, two yellow, and two green beads make up each cluster. A blood-red skull, bordered by bones of the same shade, is emblazoned on both the chest and back of a jet black tabard; it is well cared for and worn with pride wherever she goes. Finally, a small bauble has been tied to the end of her tail, just below the tuft of hair, with a thin strap of red leather; black clouds swirl beneath the surface of the orb, only visible if one attempted to look through it.
The drastic changes in her attitude and the way she presents herself, has made it difficult for even her closest friends to recognize her. However, she still remains fiercely loyal to those that she cares about and is nearly herself around those that she loves – as if the changes were only a mask for her to hide behind.
((Sumiratana Skyhoof - Original Description, 1/2010))
At first glance, the tauren before you may appear quite ordinary. The black fur covering her body may look like nothing more than black fur; the black braids framing her muzzle, nothing more than black braids; the tiny black horns sprouting from either side of her head, nothing more than horns. However, if one were to look closely, the black fur is actually flecked with highlights.
The highlights are a blue so dark that it can only be seen when she is standing just so. The sparkles might remind you of the meadows of Mulgore – the thousands of tiny dewdrops on each blade of grass, glistening in the first rays of sunlight each morning. Or, perhaps even more accurate, like the stars shining out from the ebony canvas that is the night sky.
The texture of the fur is also surprising. It is as soft as the fur of a baby rabbit. Fur as soft as that is not common among the tauren as the hot, dusty environment has favored a thicker, coarser coat. Her hair, as well, is not what is expected of a tauren. It is as soft and fine as the down on a plainstrider, not the thick and wiry texture most often felt.
The traditional braids framing each side of this tauren’s face are just as deceiving as the rest of her appearance. Like her fur, the hair only appears black. However, the hair is actually made up of thousands of strands of sapphire blue. Looking closely at the braids, one would see the tracks of blue winding through one another. The leather straps binding the braids are died blue as well, making the color in her hair more easily visible. One may think that the ancestors infused the tauren with hair spun from the finest crystal to be found in Azeroth.
The eyes set into the pitch-black face are another surprise, for instead of being the traditional brown, they are deep lavender – a color seen only in the varieties of Mageroyal found in Ashenvale. A color like that has never been seen in any tauren – or any member of the Horde in general.
The strange, ‘newness’ of this tauren is also unnerving. Her body is as petite as a youngster’s and she carries herself in a similar manner; tripping over her own hooves, pulling on her tail when she is nervous or bored, and appearing as if she is seeing the world for the first time. However, her overall physical appearance is that of a fully grown adult.
Her body is adorned with well toned and agile muscles, offering the potential for an ease of movement not common to a tauren, should she ‘grow into her hooves’ enough to use them. The hourglass figure she possesses is really the only thing about her that is true to her race. Her chest flows perfectly into a strong, yet slender, waist that is finished by thick, curvy hips. Though she is tiny for her age, she owns the body that any tauren male would be happy to share.
Raven hair that falls to mid-back is pulled back and held with a simple clip made of some viridian stone. Wisps of hair frame her face and spill into her eyes, which has her constantly brushing them away. Perfectly sculpted eyebrows arch over her icy blue eyes. The eyes glow with an inner fire that marks her as a member of the Ebon Blade. Her skin still has a healthy tone, as if she had been reanimated very quickly after she fell, but there is still that hint of death present. Her lips are full and slightly pouty, while the corners are nearly always curved into a friendly smile.
Her body is very strong and capable, which translates into deadly effectiveness in battle. Yet, the way in which she carries herself is extremely feminine. Her body is rather attractive when not shrouded from head to toe in plate armor. She was gifted with an ample chest, slender waist, curvy hips, and long legs. Her muscles are firm and toned, perhaps a bit much for the taste of some, but not outrageously so.
There are relatively few marks on her skin, but the most noticeable is a perfectly straight scar about the length of a palm, excluding the fingers, just above her left breast exactly over her heart. It did not look like a wound that one would have received during battle, which is perhaps why it is so noticeable. Three runes are inscribed in a line down her spine. The first is a scarlet blood rune emblazoned between her shoulder blades. The second is a cobalt frost rune drawn mid-way down her back, nearly even with the base of her rib cage. The third is a chartreuse unholy rune crafted on the small of her back, nearly touching her bottom. They are easily missed, unless one is looking for them or she is seen during an intense activity, such as battle. The rest of her skin is smooth, soft, and cold – almost icy – to the touch.
She carries herself with an air of confidence that may be misconstrued as arrogance, but her interactions with others lay those thoughts to rest. Kindness and compassion are ever-present expressions on her face. Rather than the stench of undeath that follow some of her kind, she leaves the pleasant scents of peacebloom and mageroyal in her wake. Her unique voice echoes with the power that animates her, but that is rarely noticed over the tones of sincerity and kindness that color it.
((Update - 11/2010 | Note: Sumi in tauren form continues as in her 10/2010 Update. Thanks!))
The hustle and bustle in the streets of the floating mage city, Dalaran, makes the relative silence of The Filthy Animal a welcome reprieve. The banging of pots and pans, requests for ale and the like from the bar, and the sultry comments from the dancing barmaids, is a somewhat relaxing ambiance. You take heavy and exhausted steps, dragging your packs and satchels behind you, toward one of the many cooking tables scattered around the open lower level of the inn. Longing for a chair, rather than the cold, hard floor covered only by a woven rug, has you peering around for some sort of compromise. There are tables laden with food, and matching benches, to your right as you enter, but it is chilly and a place by the fire would be more satisfying. So, with a heavy sigh, you remove your cloak. Folded into a sort of pillow, you place it under the table and plop down on top of it. The floor was not as cold as you had assumed, but the make-shift cushion was better than the hard floor. Heat from the table’s surface, and the warmth from the fire, starts to warm you through the armor you wear. You remove your gloves, one finger at a time, and place them next to your knee. That is followed by the furious rubbing of your hands together.
‘Mittens would be nice,’ you think to yourself, ‘At least my body heat would keep my fingers warm. But, Fel knows how hard it is to fight in mittens.’ You laugh to yourself, shaking your head, pulling one of your packs closer to you. As you sift through the sundry objects haphazardly thrown inside, you are deciding whether you were looking for your coin purse or your preserved rations. Movement from near the fireplace catches your attention and you look up to see what was causing it.
A large cat, not unlike the lions that prowl The Barrens, lies before the giant fireplace. The sleek fur covering the agile frame is a black so dark that it almost seems blue. It is situated on the bear skin rug, which sits to the right of the hearth. Its chin is resting on top of the deceased bear’s head and its massive paws lay motionless beside it. It looks harmless enough, lying there asleep, so you don’t bother to hide the fact that you’re staring at it. You tear your gaze away to look for the hunter to whom this lion should belong. After all, you have seen one or two black lions in your adventures around Azeroth. They are rare, but they do exist. Besides a priest and a mage sitting at the bar, there doesn’t appear to be anyone else on the lower level. You picked yourself up and walked passed the cat to the stairs along the back wall of the inn. It only took three steps to be able to see that there was no one there either.
‘Strange,’ you think, returning to your seat at the cooking table. You adjust the cloak cushion and reclaim your place. You look around to see if anyone else was intrigued by the beast lying there, but everyone else seemed indisposed with whatever it was that they were doing. Another flick of motion draws your attention back, but this time you catch the tail swishing back and forth. She lifted her head from its resting place and turned to stare right at you. You averted your gaze quickly, as if to imply that you hadn’t been staring. When you next sneak a glance in its direction, it is gone. A voice is then heard as the cat slinks out of what seems like thin air behind you.
“Did your mother forget to tell you that it is impolite to stare?” the voice asked. It was definitely female, though it was deep and there was a trace of either purr or growl in it. You secretly hoped that it was the former. “What do you want?” It was a simple enough question, but you couldn’t find the words to provide a quick answer. She stalked around your right side and sat before you. “Well?” she asked again. Her face was not as harsh as her voice had led you to believe.
Golden eyes that seemed to glow with their own inner light peered into your own. As she blinked and the glow was momentarily interrupted, you would catch a glimpse of an odd color – not yellow-green or amber as you had expected, but something else entirely. It could have been pink. She blinked again and you changed your mind. They were light purple. The unusual eyes draw your attention to markings that started at the inside corner of her eyes and continued a few inches down her cheeks. They were red – as if she’d been crying blood instead of tears. She had no eyebrows to speak of, but there were some short whiskers protruding from where they would be, and some trick of the light traced the outlines above her eyes. Topping that, her mane framed her face. It was a lighter color than the rest of her fur, and not as thick, full, and majestic as one would expect. Instead, it was short, fine, and fuzzy – more like a lion cub than an adult.
There was almost no indentation separating her nose from the forehead under her measly mane. Her face appeared nearly flat. On each side of her muzzle, three crimson lines were etched, like scars, into her fur. They started just behind her nose and ended just before the lines from her eyes. The nose itself seemed to be just the rounded end of her snout. The nostrils were shaped like a bird in flight as viewed from the ground – the section of skin separating the nostrils was much like the body, while the nostrils themselves resembled outstretched wings. Below the ‘body’ section of her nose, her prow was devided into the characteristic feline mouth. Her lips were split into two rounded sections one on each side. Her bottom lip completed her face, making her muzzle appear to be egg-shaped with the fatter end on top. There was something about the face that made you believe that she could display a wide variety of emotions and expressions.
“Hello-o,” she said rather sarcastically, and your suspicions were right. Her ‘eyebrows’ were raised and her eyes were full of irritation. Her mouth was set somewhere between a frown and a scowl. The purr had subtly become more growl, “Either you tell me what you want with me or I will show you to the door – none too gently, I might add.” You stammer a meek apology, holding your hands up in the air. She snorts through her nose at you and stalks back over to her seat on the rug that had once been a bear. While she turns, you take advantage of the opportunity to inspect the rest of her while she wasn’t looking.
Protruding out of her skimpy mane, rounded ears were folded back against her neck. There was a scarlet spot, about the size of a gold piece, at the tip of each one. Fastened around her neck was a vermillion collar. Stitched in bold, black letters was something too far away to make out. Hanging from the collar were two small decorations: a tiny paw of some kind, flanked by animal teeth and separated by beads; and, below that, a strange orb that was too small to really identify.
Decorating each shoulder were burgundy runes marking her as a druid. The runes resemble a crescent moon embracing the sun. You silently chide yourself for having not noticed them before. However, as she stalks to her place by the fire, the runes all but disappear into the ebony fur. You could only have seen them if you knew that they were there.
Her rolling gait drew attention to her nimble body. The muscles of her shoulders, back, and legs worked fluidly beneath her skin as she swaggered away from you. She picked her way across the floor, around broken bottles and the like, until she came to her spot. Turning three times, she curled herself into a ball on the rug and began to lick her sizable paw. Her tail rose and fell as if compelled by the beat of a drum, yet there was no music. Some trick of the firelight backlit her mane, illuminating the sparkles of sapphire blue scattered throughout her mane and coat. You have a somewhat amazed look on your face as your gaze takes in her entirety. She stopped licking her paw, though it is still near her mouth. Her glare shoots daggers at you while her face displays a mix of apprehension, irritation, and levity.
“I thought you said you did not have business with me,” she remarked, returning her attention to her paw. Looking at you, she speaks between licks, “Well…then,” she snorts. Her paw is lowered to the rug and she adjusts herself into a laying position on her belly, “You had better tell me your name…” the pause was intimidating, “…Because, I need to know what to put on your tombstone.” With that, she stands, creeps toward you, prepares to pounce! And then promptly disappears. The sound of laughter seems to bounce off the walls and echo in the room. There is no way for you to know where it was coming from, so you sit there bracing yourself for a blow.
But, it never came. She is gone. And you feel rather silly.
((What Sumi would look like if she were a real lion:))
((And what she sounds like/how she acts:))
((Update - 10/2010))
Sumi is still a runt compared to other tauren, but her body still captures the attention of many bulls. Her fur is still as black as ebony, though it seems to be graying ever so slightly. Odd highlights continue to wink in a flash of sapphire when the sun shines just so, yet her lovely braids have been hacked off just below her shoulders and are now bound with straps made of thick, tanned leather. Lavender eyes – the same color as mageroyal – still captivate those who see them, but not with the innocence that they had once held. Despite the signs of aging that any tauren undergoes, there is something markedly different about her.
She is very rarely intimidated now, standing boldly rather than cowering. Harsh words leap to her tongue just as easily as kind ones had before. The usually sweet demeanor that she had always presented is now spicier. Her smiles have morphed into grins. Eyes that once held possibility are now filled with practicality. And, even her tail has been forgotten.
Many new things have been added to the sparse collection attached about her person. The tribal necklace made of small, brown beads and a small, grey wolf’s paw still adorns her neck, but teeth and claws have been added – trophies of her recent kills. Red and black feathers have been tied into her mane, taken from the Swoops around Bloodhoof Village. A cluster of beads hangs from each leather strap binding her hair – two red, two blue, two yellow, and two green beads make up each cluster. A blood-red skull, bordered by bones of the same shade, is emblazoned on both the chest and back of a jet black tabard; it is well cared for and worn with pride wherever she goes. Finally, a small bauble has been tied to the end of her tail, just below the tuft of hair, with a thin strap of red leather; black clouds swirl beneath the surface of the orb, only visible if one attempted to look through it.
The drastic changes in her attitude and the way she presents herself, has made it difficult for even her closest friends to recognize her. However, she still remains fiercely loyal to those that she cares about and is nearly herself around those that she loves – as if the changes were only a mask for her to hide behind.
((Sumiratana Skyhoof - Original Description, 1/2010))
At first glance, the tauren before you may appear quite ordinary. The black fur covering her body may look like nothing more than black fur; the black braids framing her muzzle, nothing more than black braids; the tiny black horns sprouting from either side of her head, nothing more than horns. However, if one were to look closely, the black fur is actually flecked with highlights.
The highlights are a blue so dark that it can only be seen when she is standing just so. The sparkles might remind you of the meadows of Mulgore – the thousands of tiny dewdrops on each blade of grass, glistening in the first rays of sunlight each morning. Or, perhaps even more accurate, like the stars shining out from the ebony canvas that is the night sky.
The texture of the fur is also surprising. It is as soft as the fur of a baby rabbit. Fur as soft as that is not common among the tauren as the hot, dusty environment has favored a thicker, coarser coat. Her hair, as well, is not what is expected of a tauren. It is as soft and fine as the down on a plainstrider, not the thick and wiry texture most often felt.
The traditional braids framing each side of this tauren’s face are just as deceiving as the rest of her appearance. Like her fur, the hair only appears black. However, the hair is actually made up of thousands of strands of sapphire blue. Looking closely at the braids, one would see the tracks of blue winding through one another. The leather straps binding the braids are died blue as well, making the color in her hair more easily visible. One may think that the ancestors infused the tauren with hair spun from the finest crystal to be found in Azeroth.
The eyes set into the pitch-black face are another surprise, for instead of being the traditional brown, they are deep lavender – a color seen only in the varieties of Mageroyal found in Ashenvale. A color like that has never been seen in any tauren – or any member of the Horde in general.
The strange, ‘newness’ of this tauren is also unnerving. Her body is as petite as a youngster’s and she carries herself in a similar manner; tripping over her own hooves, pulling on her tail when she is nervous or bored, and appearing as if she is seeing the world for the first time. However, her overall physical appearance is that of a fully grown adult.
Her body is adorned with well toned and agile muscles, offering the potential for an ease of movement not common to a tauren, should she ‘grow into her hooves’ enough to use them. The hourglass figure she possesses is really the only thing about her that is true to her race. Her chest flows perfectly into a strong, yet slender, waist that is finished by thick, curvy hips. Though she is tiny for her age, she owns the body that any tauren male would be happy to share.
See you in game!))
))
Founded April 26, 2005