Bess Blackhoof

Rebirth

The putrid stench of blight and formaldehyde crept across the battlefield. With a roar, the massive glowing bear charged at her undead foes, unlikely companions mere steps behind her. Chunks of rotten fetid flesh were sent flying through the air by her rending claws while brittle bones snapped between her jaws. The druid shifted to her natural form, that of a 9 foot tall minotaur, just long enough to shout to her companions, before shifting into a giant golden eagle and taking to the air to scout for wounded allies. Zigzagging across the field, her sharp eyes caught sight of a human about to be torn asunder by a jagged axe wielded by a troll missing half his torso, but as she dove a poisoned arrow found its mark. The druid fell, tumbling as she shifted once again. With a groan she regained her footing, reaching to snap the shaft flush with her leather armor, giant strides closing the gap to snatch the human and toss him over her good shoulder. “Hold fast,” she choked out in the unfamiliar common tongue, before taking off to the nearest encampment nestled in the trees just outside the battle. She reached the edge of the camp before collapsing in pain and exhaustion, and the last thing she heard was the apothecary's words. “They've changed the composition of the blight. She's not likely to survive if we don't get her to the healers in Stormwind, and quickly!”

The druid awoke to the sound of waves lapping at her thighs, and the completely unfamiliar feeling of sand and sea grass between her toes. Wait, toes?? Her eyes cracked open and she flexed a hand with too many fingers before her face. Droplets of seawater glistened on smooth, dark skin where black fur had once been.

A mostly naked feline figure made her way across the sand, muttering to herself in a thick mountain-dweller's accent. “What in the Llymlaen's name washed up on my beach this time?” The cat stuck the handle of her fishing spear into the sand and crouched next to the much larger woman, retrieving dried fish from her belt pouch and taking a nibble before handing out a waterskin. “Well aren't ya a sorry sight,” she drawled in something similar to the common tongue, but somehow easier to understand.

The druid let her hand drop onto her face before attempting to sit up. “What of the battle? What of Lordaeron?”

“Whoa there, take it easy. Ya hit yet head afore goin' fer a swim? Take a drink first.” The cat shook the skin of fresh spring water and the druid took it, the cool clean liquid flowing across parched lips and tongue. The cat pulled another piece of fish from her pouch, offering it, and the druid shook her head. “I'm Yara, but most folks call me K. You are...?” she trailed off as she tucked the extra piece of fish away.

“Name's Bess, of Kalimdor. Nice to meet you, and thanks for the drink, but I need to get back to my friends.” She capped the waterskin and dropped it to the sands, struggling to get to her feet.

“Ya might want to sit a bit afore ya go anywhere. I'd say ya took quite a spill.” Yara settled back onto her heels, eyeing the newcomer. “What did ya say ya were lookin' fer? Lord-a-who?”

Bess did what the cat said, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees. “Lordaeron. It's a place, not a who. I need to get back there, my friends need my help.”

“Never heard o' it, but yer welcome to stay here until the next trading ship comes. Should be here in the next three suns.”

Bess was aghast. “Three days?!”

“Aye, that'll take ya to the port o' Moraby Bay,” Yara said around a mouthful of fish. “Then it's a short chocobo ride to the city of Limsa, although I doubt anyone there'll know what yer jawin' about.”

“That won't be necessary. Just point me in the right direction and I'll...” Bess again struggled to her feet, swaying a bit as she prepared to shift to her bird form and... nothing happened. She tried twice more with the same result. “Why...? And why am I a human?!”

“Dunno what that was s'posed to be, but as I said yer welcome to stay here while ya wait fer the boat. Ya need a few good meals and some proper clothes afore ya go anywhere besides.” The corners of Yara's snout turned upward in a smirk as Bess desperately tried to cover herself. She finally stood, barely reaching the druid's elbow. “I'm no seamstress, but I can prolly whip up somethin' suitable. Yer a big one and look like ya could hold yer own in a fight, other'n leavin' half yer wits in the sea; I'd suggest checkin' in with Baderon at the Drownin' Wench. That's the inn and Adventurer's Guild in Limsa.” Yara grabbed her spear and turned to head up the trail to her hut on the ridge. “Follow me. Got some dodo stew on the fire and fresh bread I just baked this morn.”

The next few days were spent sharing recipes and stories of their homelands, and Yara told Bess all about the three city-states and how to navigate between them (“Ul'dah, the city in the deserts of Thanalan - den of cutpurses and greedy bureaucrats alike, but also home of what ya'd call a brawlers' guild, good gil to be made there; Limsa Lominsa - trade hub where most of the Roegadyn reside, that's yer kind by the way, they 'ave a lucrative black market; and Gridania, best leatherworkers in all o' Eorzea though the Wildwoods can be a bit stick-in-the-mud toward outsiders”), and when the trade ship arrived the cat wished her new friend well on her journey to find a way back home.

((Bess has been ported over to FFXIV!))