Saddle Sore

It seems to me that the world plays cruel tricks on people.

I had been looking forward to buying a mount for some time now. For some absurd reason the stable masters refused me service until I reached a seemingly arbitrary rank. But, when your standard bag of tricks doesn't work you're usually left with only two options... stab and worry about tomorrow ...tomorrow, or play by the rules and come back later.

So, not looking to have my first ride through the wilderness be made while being pursued by town guards... I chose to wait.

Squirreled away some money and merrily went on my way killing for the sake of the Alliance. And there's usually no shortage of work for a gal with two blades and the will to use them. Handsome profits and a rising status both came my way.

So when I reached the requisite age to procure my mount I wasted no time in setting out to acquire my pretty new horse.

Having recently spent some time in the wetlands surrounding Menethil Harbor, I'd often times taken a break from the muck and sludge of that countryside to eat a meal, and watch the stable hands tend the horses they kept there.

Admittedly, knowing very little about horses... I tended to judge the beasts on their beauty, and moxie. I think it's wise enough advice, that in the absence of true knowledge gut instinct should prevail... and my gut was telling me, that only a feisty, and strong horse would suit my needs. Gods know I've had to get myself out of all manner of situations. Can't let a window, or a 4 story drop, or the threat of impending death or torture get in the way of your objective. Especially if your objective is escape. So I'd sit under a tree, and try and pick which animals looked liked they'd not be the sort to hesitate in the face of extreme peril.

And being a girl partial to sticking to the shadows, my eyes always seemed to linger on the black stallions stabled in Menethil.

So when the time came to purchase my mount, I went directly to Menethil, taking the gryphon out of Ironforge... cursing the cold mountain wind and the light garb I'd worn in anticipation of a first run through marshland. I landed and made my way to the stables.

Intending to wait and observe one last time the horses being led around the paddock, I instead brashly walked up to the horse dealer and demanded the most unruly stallion he had to sell.

The stable master looked me over... his little pig eyes lingering mayhap a little too long on everywhere but my eyes and then pointed to a blackie standing in the far stall.

"If wild's what yer after m'lady...then that stallion will do you." He said. And growing sick of his stench and wandering eyes I quickly paid him his due and had his assistant saddle my new horse.

The stable hand was a much more agreeable person. His actions were concise, and practical. He dressed the horse, using his firm hands to quiet the beast upon first entering its stall, and then quickly fixing the saddle and other various bits of tac to the beast.

He was kind enough to ask if I knew how to ride... so I felt obligated, and was kind enough to lie that I did.

Why bother the lad with the petty task of teaching me to ride the animal. My gut told me it'd be fairly straight forward. Hold on tight, lead the beast where you'd want it to go, kick it to go faster.

So when he was done with the saddle, and handed me the reins, I moved in close to thank him. Slipping a gold coin into his hand and placing a quick kiss on his cheek. Surprisingly enough, the stable hand, who probably spent more of his day in these stalls up close and personal with the horses had a pleasant scent of hay and musk about him. While the stable master... who, my gut told me, never left the training yard, wreaked of manure and hubris from 20 paces.

Having the animal in the training yard, I put a foot in the stirrup and swung myself up. The stable master had made a move to "assist" me on mounting the horse, so my gut told me better to learn fast and on my own...than let roaming hands "assist" me too often for no gain.

Getting atop the beast I instantly felt that I was a bit out of sorts. My weight was nothing to the animal, although it shifted and turned in the training yard several times as if in protest of the presence on its back.

"Ye sure you can handle that beast m'lady?" the stable master called to me. But at the sound of his condescending voice, both me and my new mount seemed to stiffen with resolve to put some distance between us and him. And wheeling the horse around, doing my best to point the creature towards the exit gate I made bet to do just that.

"Tis a wild beast dear heart, I'd half a mind to break him via the plow for you asked for 'em" Continued the stable master. The stench of manure seemed to spread out before him as he came closer. "You take my advice, ...beat the wildness outa  'm or ye never gain the beast's loyalty.  ....nothin wild ever served no one any good to be left free.  gotta rein it in, or it'll forever run." the stable master concluded.

"well sir," I said turning one last, and hopefully final time to stable master manure.... "it's a fools trick to turn something wild into something good. best to channel wickedness into gain through other means."

and with that I put the spurs to my new horse, and after a quick startle and an initial attempt to toss me from it's back, the stallion made a break for the exit.

The break was a bit off though, and the gate was approaching at a gallop, a few paces to the right... and it dawned on me that this might very well be the shortest ride ever if the fence surrounding the paddock had any say in the matter.

but my mount never slowed, near to smashing headlong into the fence it merely leapt over it. My heart catching in my throat as the great weight of the creature lifted off the ground and then slammed back into it on the other side... I instantly knew I'd found a kindred.

Racing out of Menethil it was hard to tell who was leading who. The horse stuck to the hard packed trail leading out of the wetlands and we were soon on our way out the mountain passages towards the Loch.

The horsed seemed more to like the open range of the flat lands of the marsh, than the narrow paths leading to the Loch, but that was fine by me. The beast showed no sign of fear or hesitation as we went past signs of trouble in the wetlands, or dodged orcs in the mountain passes of Loch Modan.

I was enjoying the feel of the wind through my hair and the strong press of the animal beneath me...

The sound of its hooves on the hard earth seemed to match the pounding in my chest. More than once as the beast picked up speed on some straight length of trail, I couldn't resist casting a shout to echo off the hills and mountains near Ironforge. And as we rode on, my body moving up and down in steady motion with the strides of the animal. My gut told me we were both learning each other on this first journey.

We reached the dwarven capital in no time. Remembering that journey from days long since past I was extremely glad never to have to make it on foot again. I quickly lead the horse to the gnomish section of town and into the tram tunnel.

It had dawned on me earlier that it may've been smarter to travel from Menethil across the sea, and then back across to reach my final destination of Booty Bay. As it stood, we still had to make it to Stormwind and then ride south through Stranglethorn jungle. I hope the beast had stamina enough to make the trip. But either way it was a good test for new friends.

The tram clearly un-nerved the beast. The clank and brall of the machines, the enclosure of the tram tunnel. The creature was not happy but it was well enough. I found that if I drew close to the animal, and stroked his face.... he seemed to calm.

Making it to Stormwind and then out it's front gate went fairly smoothly. The horse seemed to have no concern for the finely dressed citizens of Stormwind. The heroes dressed in their shiny and glowing adornments held just as little interest for my new mount as they ever did for me.

I ...or it, decided to stop just outside of Stormwind to munch and apple or two from the orchards just outside the gates, and take a drink from a slight spring nearby. The impulse was fair, so I took the opportunity to make sure a few extra apples wound up in my pouches for later. For all intents and purposes, me and this horse were partners, and I'd do my best to watch out for it.

We soon set off again, passing through Goldshire and then the ruined farmlands of Westfall, the apples would probably serve well indeed. Hardly anything grew between here and Booty Bay. For all that remained before the jungle was the murky woods of Darkshire.

We made fair time through all. And soon, the newly familiar landscape of Stranglethorn Jungle was our view.

My mount seemed not to care, although our speed had been reduced to an idle trot from a full out gallop. but we in essence had run the length of the continent, so I easily forgave the change in pace.

The noises from the great cats of the jungle gave my new mount cause for concern, although my gut tells me it may've been more so from the unfamiliarity of the noises than any true fear. The troll ruins and their odd carvings gave no pause to the animal. Nor did the happenstance of the random Horde who passed up by.

Upon spotting the giant shark jaw leading to Booty Bay I urged my mount on just a little further, uttering words of thanks and encouragement. And as the beast and I passed through the tunnel to the town proper (such as anything in Booty Bay is proper) I instantly fell in love with the sound of hooves on the planks of the piers. A hollow wooden noise. Creaks and grunts as the old salty planks groaned under the weight of the two of us.

I made quick to the local stable, and dismounted. For the first time, noticing a bit of raw pain in my legs. But one would expect such things from such a long ride.

I paid the goblin for the board of my new horse, and made sure he caught sight of my blades when i mentioned my desire for my new mount to be treated well. Although in truth, the additional few silver I slipped the 'lil green bastard probably got the job done just the same.

Retreating to the local tavern, it hit me all of a sudden just how tired I was. The trip had been fast and quick. With much of the countryside racing by. But the sheer distance we covered finally sunk in. Even the welcome sounds of the bar weren't enough to perk me up. I had hoped to play a bit of dice, and then find a young sailor to take to bed. But as it stood, I simply paid for a room for only myself and ordered a bottle of rum sent up, and for word to be passed along to San'ji that I had need of his services.

San'ji was a troll shaman, who specialized in healing salves, anti-poisons and the occasional curse removal. In my travels throughout Stranglethorn, I had found some need in his wares, and quickly discovered the troll's penchant for granting discounts to women customers who allowed him to "properly apply" his various potions and salves.

And after a few brief minutes settling myself in my room the knock at the door revealed San'ji and my rum had arrived.

San'ji's salves helped, as did his quick and firm hands... the rum helped forget that it was San'ji's hands, and after healthy application of both I quickly drifted off to sleep. The welts and soreness in my legs and ass fading into the cool blackness of unfettered sleep. My gut told me San'ji wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything while I slept and would probably just help himself to the remainder of my rum and be on his way.

Waking up to the moon, I was pleased to find San'ji gone. Less pleased, but no less shocked to see the rum gone as well. And after gingerly getting dressed, slipped out the window and along the plank rooftops of Booty Bay towards the stables.

I found my new mount resting in his stall. The stable merchant could be seen ahead tending to some matter, but he never heard me enter. I took a brush from off a shelf and entered my horse's stall. Calming him first with my hand on his muzzle and then slowly brushing him down. The horse had done well. It dawned on me that I'd need to find a name for him. Lest the annoyance of being unnamed become a rift between the two of us.

I fished an apple out of one of my pouches and offered it to the horse. He leaned his big head over and sniffed at the apple. Taking it in several greedy bites. The horse then sniffed at my legs, pausing a moment to make sense of the strange aroma that could only be San'ji's salve before nosing at the pouch with the remaining apples.

"Yes..you did that my friend. Although I suppose I bare some of the blame for it as well." I said to my new horse as I offered up another apple to him. "'tis alright though... a little pain to seal a pact between new partners is fine by me. You ran hard and fast today... and showed no signs of fear.   I ask only exactly that every day we ride together...and I promise you just rewards."

And with the formal offer made to her new mount, she took as acceptance on his part... the happy consumption of a third apple. So it was settled. Partners...

Creeping back to the room, I tried to decide if the name "Blister" was suitable for a horse. It rang with a bit of irony. And was devoid of pompous fluff. And yet had meanings for speed and toughness if you looked at it a certain way. Although the obvious unsightly connotations were also apparent. But, I tend to listen to my gut. And that's the name that first came to me.

So mayhap the simplest wisdom is to order up another bottle of rum. I've always believed it better to have something else to blame a bad decision on... And rum normally fits that bill.

Fits quite nicely indeed...