Post by Gidgiddoni on Jan 28, 2009 10:23:43 GMT -5
Selki spurred her skeletal winged steed onward and swooped low over the Borean Tundra. She scanned to the right and left looking for herbs, but saw none. Just as well. She knew Gibble would be waiting impatiently. He was always antsy and anxious to be going somewhere, even when it was nowhere in particular.
Their plan was to do daily quests in Icecrown, but Gibble said he wanted to hunt mammoth on the tundra first. Gibble loved to cook and was fond of saying, “Mammoth meals make me mighty mean!”
She found it hard to disagree with him. It seemed he was, more often than not, grumpy about something.
She flew over the goblin airport and brought her mount down for a perfect landing near the open field where Gibble usually hunted. His mechanostrider was parked nearby, still smoking, hissing steam and sputtering. But the gnome was not to be seen.
“Gibble!” she called and her voice echoed across the tundra. No answer, only the plodding thump of a nearby heard of great beasts.
She spied a growth of goldclover on the edge of a knoll and climbed a little hill to fetch it. As she topped the rise and looked down the other side she saw something most curious and strange. A herd of mammoths, large ones and small, was clustered near a whirling dust storm. The storm reminded her of the surging air elementals of Silithus. But this one was spinning and teetering and howling like nothing she had seen before.
Biff! Bop! Bam! came a noise from the tempest, and suddenly a mammoth went hurtling through the air. Kablam! Kaboom! Kabluuey! came more noises from the wind, and all the mammoths began to rumble and stomp and bellow as yet another went flying into the blue sky.
“What de sam hills is dat?” Selki said to nobody in particular.
“Yeeehaw!” came a holler from inside the gusting turbulence, and Selki ducked as a small mammoth flew over her head and landed in a heap.
“To be sure that hollering do sound familiar,” she said.
She watched as though bewitched. The cloud of dust tumbled this way and that, and here and there she would see the flash of a hand or a wee little foot, and then she heard, “Heeyaa! Ayeeeeiiii!”
And every last one of the mammoths bowled over, leaving the whirling wind alone in the midst. It whooshed and it swished and then, as though the gods had turned off the gusts of a hurricane, the little tornado stopped and … as the dust settled … she saw him … Gibble. His hands were clenched in little fists of fury and he stood there with his bare feet firmly rooted on the tundra.
“Gibble?” she whispered as though she were seeing a ghost.
“YeeeeeAAAA!” he yelled as he jumped high in the air and landed only inches from her. His eyes were bulging, and he waved his arms like a tiny windmill before assuming a pose that looked like a pelican trying to eat a tuna.
“What has come over you?” she stuttered.
“I ams now de mastah of de Knuckles Sammich! Fear de mighty Gibble and hims flying feets and fists of doom and mayhems!” said the gnome.
Their plan was to do daily quests in Icecrown, but Gibble said he wanted to hunt mammoth on the tundra first. Gibble loved to cook and was fond of saying, “Mammoth meals make me mighty mean!”
She found it hard to disagree with him. It seemed he was, more often than not, grumpy about something.
She flew over the goblin airport and brought her mount down for a perfect landing near the open field where Gibble usually hunted. His mechanostrider was parked nearby, still smoking, hissing steam and sputtering. But the gnome was not to be seen.
“Gibble!” she called and her voice echoed across the tundra. No answer, only the plodding thump of a nearby heard of great beasts.
She spied a growth of goldclover on the edge of a knoll and climbed a little hill to fetch it. As she topped the rise and looked down the other side she saw something most curious and strange. A herd of mammoths, large ones and small, was clustered near a whirling dust storm. The storm reminded her of the surging air elementals of Silithus. But this one was spinning and teetering and howling like nothing she had seen before.
Biff! Bop! Bam! came a noise from the tempest, and suddenly a mammoth went hurtling through the air. Kablam! Kaboom! Kabluuey! came more noises from the wind, and all the mammoths began to rumble and stomp and bellow as yet another went flying into the blue sky.
“What de sam hills is dat?” Selki said to nobody in particular.
“Yeeehaw!” came a holler from inside the gusting turbulence, and Selki ducked as a small mammoth flew over her head and landed in a heap.
“To be sure that hollering do sound familiar,” she said.
She watched as though bewitched. The cloud of dust tumbled this way and that, and here and there she would see the flash of a hand or a wee little foot, and then she heard, “Heeyaa! Ayeeeeiiii!”
And every last one of the mammoths bowled over, leaving the whirling wind alone in the midst. It whooshed and it swished and then, as though the gods had turned off the gusts of a hurricane, the little tornado stopped and … as the dust settled … she saw him … Gibble. His hands were clenched in little fists of fury and he stood there with his bare feet firmly rooted on the tundra.
“Gibble?” she whispered as though she were seeing a ghost.
“YeeeeeAAAA!” he yelled as he jumped high in the air and landed only inches from her. His eyes were bulging, and he waved his arms like a tiny windmill before assuming a pose that looked like a pelican trying to eat a tuna.
“What has come over you?” she stuttered.
“I ams now de mastah of de Knuckles Sammich! Fear de mighty Gibble and hims flying feets and fists of doom and mayhems!” said the gnome.