[RP]'Taming' Predatoria, the Snow Beast(more)

Emerald Dream
Day1: The search begins

I’ve heard much about a particular beast. They say she’s a furious, bloodthirsty killer. They say she’s a beautiful, white snow cat. There are a lot of snow cats that have picked off a man or two from a venturing party, but they say much more about this, this Predatoria. That’s what they call her. I must find her. I must see her for myself; a beast of such notoriety surely deserves a visit from Ol’ Hemet. For this reason, I have set off on another great adventure, the ultimate expedition into the cold wastes of this Winterspring.
Day2: The Decision

It would soil my great name to not come home with my prize, be it alive or dead. Yes. I, the great Hemet Nesingwary, hunter extraordinaire, will find and take this Predatoria from her home. The perplexing question, however, is whether I find her to be more of value alive or dead. This question, indeed, will require intense evaluation on my part as to whether I can turn more fame and fortune for myself having slain, or having captured her alive. Living, I could show her off as my own. Dead, well, I’ve heard a thing or two about the quality of her hide. I reckon it’d be a fitting gift for King Magni himself, to garner up a bit of royal leverage.

But … there is a third option. Could I tame her? Beckon her to fight alongside me? Just think, Hemet Nesingwary, the notorious, the famous, the glorious hunter extraordinaire, alongside the most feared, untamed, wild beast of Azeroth. Together, nothing would elude our grasp. We’d be unstoppable. No beast, no man, nothing would stand a chance united. Yes! That’s it. I will tame Predatoria.
Day3: How to tame a beast

In my vast experience as a hunter and a profiteer I’ve learned a few things about beasts and how their heads work. They aren’t like us Dwarves, or, really any intelligent race for that matter. Even those stink’n Trolls have more brains than a common mountain lion. Beasts, they’re like children. You can’t force a captured creature to do your bidding any easier than you can a child to eat their vegetables with direct coercion. Be as tough as you wish, you’d sooner put the beast down than force them to fight your battles. But Ol’ Hemet knows how to charm beasts. For reference in case I perish in this frosty waste, here’s how it’s done.

Step 1: Trap the beast. The beast must be immobilized for obvious reasons. I may be a world class hunter, but I am no fool, and my beard’s grown grey with age for my practice of proper caution. Approaching a ferocious animal without the proper precautions is a fools way to lose a hand, a foot, your life, or worse … your beard. A Dwarf without a beard … Oy, let’s not go there. For more information on trapping felines, see [Hemet’s Guide to Creature Capture, Chapter 7: Large Felines]. I won’t be making more detail of the art here.

Step 2: ‘Rescue’ the beast. Predatoria is a feline. She’s a predator, and likely the apex of this wilderness at that. That means a lot. Predators are a different situation from herbivores entirely, harboring levels of intelligence that continues to surprise even this Ol’ Dwarf in his advancing age. Prey animals are often easy to break into submission. To get a Kodo to carry your camp is to out drink a Gnome. Easy. To truly tame a predator, especially of the feline variety, requires a particular type of cunning, and a tad of luck at that. She’ll have to truly believe me to be her rescuer, a scenario I haven’t quite worked out yet.

Step 3: Gain the beasts trust. This is where many falter. Predatory animals can sense fear. If one is afraid, one will die. That’s one of the traits that separate me from hunters that could only dream of my greatness. I am truly not afraid. You must look the beast in the eyes and assert dominance. Not verbally, not with gesture, but with cold, hard truth. Believe you are the alpha, and they will believe it too. Falter in this belief, and it may be the last blunder you ever make.

Now, how will all of this come together? Only a bit of scouting, ingenuity, and a bit of opportunity will tell. Tomorrow, the hunt begins.
Day4: Stalking her prey

Hemet Nesingwary, a name I’ve heard before. A Dwarf, described by lesser senses to be of grey hair, a thick, lustrous beard, and always carries a gun. I would’ve known it was him just by his scent. The Dwarf stinks of death and destruction that I could detect miles away through a blizzard! Nonetheless, there he was, encroached onto none other than my hunting grounds earlier today! It took every ounce of my capacity to not rip the foul demon to shreds on first sight, but I decided to investigate his purpose a bit further out of personal curiosity.

He was with a party of eight, their gear hauled by a pair of white rams and a sled fashioned for travel on snowy terrain. Stalking for hours, the ‘great’ Hemet never caught notice of my presence. He seemed to be following an Orc I’ve had my eyes on for quite some time. Contrary to Orcish belief, I only kill when they deserve it, which admittedly is the majority of the time. I’ve spared him for the time being. Living meat keeps better anyways, and my belly’s quite full.
Day5: Lucky Find!

An Orc! Predatoria’s favorite prey, as rumors tell. This was a lucky find today indeed. He seems to be stationed out near a lake. From the looks of it, he appears to be a winter fisherman, a local loner from the rest of his kind. Surely the beast would feel threatened should she find herself trapped in his presence. That’s exactly what I will do, at that. A devious invention of the finest gnomish engineers, an infrared sensor coupled to a hair trigger, optically aimed by a malachite optical piece. A snare only tripped by her body heat, not the Orcs, as he stands high and she low to the ground. Surely she’ll attempt to predate on this Orc in the near future. When she does, she’ll find herself in need of a ‘rescue.’ And the rescuer will be none other than Hemet Nesingwary, hunter extraordinaire, and future tamer of the Predatoria. Sometimes I surprise even myself with my genius. It takes more than a big gun to out hunt Ol’ Hemet!
Day6: Tamed?

He set a trap, the details of which I found intriguing. A simple snare buried beneath the snow triggered to release when a thermal camera detected the presence of a body emitting sufficient infrared radiation, placed right in the center of that lone Orcs base camp. Here’s the intriguing part. The snare was set such that the Orc wouldn’t set it off. He walked over it twice while traversing his makeshift camp, as if the infrared detector was angled such that only a crouching body would allow tripping. He’s after a cat, obviously. Is he after me? Perhaps he’s heard of me as I him.

Of course, I went and triggered the trap for a bit of fun. I just couldn’t resist such a tempting, cute little trap set just for me! It’s as if they still haven’t learned I can just morph out of their snares effortlessly. As I escape and give chase, it’s so exhilarating to watch their faces alter from expressions of joy to disbelief, then terror. Utter terror. How they run, they flee, and they die, screaming, squealing, begging for mercy they wouldn’t’ve ever shed on me should the situation be reversed. This trap, however, was a bit different. I must admit, Hemet is still living, for now.

The Orc, present at the time, cautiously approached me with an axe when I snared the trap, pretending to roar and writhe in helpless agony. I was correct in my assumption he’d be an opportunist of a perceived free saber pelt and meat. Here’s the part that intrigued me the most, however. Hemet showed up shortly after, shot the Orc dead center in the forehead, and proceeded to … to … to ‘tame’ me. He acted as if he was rescuing me from the Orc, though little did he know the extent of my knowledge. I played along and now … I’m his ‘pet.’ An embarrassing title, but an artificial one I will wear for a short time.

Hemet will surely die in due time to my claws, but perhaps I should take opportunity here. There are many who commit crimes against the natural world, many of whom likely associate with criminals like Hemet. Let’s see what I can find out regarding who to kill from being his new best ‘friend’.
Day6: Success!

I can’t believe it. I … I can’t believe it! We did it. Wait. I did it. Hemet Nesingwary, hunter extraordinaire, king of the frozen wilds, and owner of the great beast, Predatoria. Ales for all! Tonight was a glorious night, as I haven’t been this excited after a hunt in years!

Admittedly though, she’s not quite as I imagined. In fact, at first I thought a young Frostsaber had triggered my trap by sheer bad luck, but tales do grow taller as time passes I suppose. She’s quite a small cat, actually, her shoulder height not much past my chest. It took me a while to recognize she truly was the Predatoria, the bloodthirsty, savage beast rumored to have slain hundreds … no, thousands with her own paws. She’s a real beauty though. I knew it was her as soon as I looked into her eyes.

I look forward to the glory of my return, with Predatoria by my side. So many warned me, told me, even joked I’d never make it back from this cold wasteland alive, be it from her claws or from the ridiculous cold. I’ll show them. I’ll return and show them my prize, and reap the glory.
Day 7: Time with the 'master'

If this idiot shoots one more rabbit for target practice I think I’m going to kill him here and now. Patience. Self-restraint. I must continue. I must endure this reckless buffoon and ignore his minor grievances for the greater good of all who call the forest home.

This predicament feels so wrong. How do other beasts put up with this nonsense? Following orders from a ‘master’ is so demeaning. Are they all faking it like me? Surely the sabers back around my den wouldn’t put up with this. Does his little charming trick actually work on other beasts? Sometimes I think I undervalue my sentience and intellect, and fail to realize these gifts and their extent.

I’ll kill him soon enough. I just need to lie dormant a bit and pretend to be his loyal pet.
Day10: My pet is scary.

This pet of mine, Predatoria, she nearly scares me to death. That’s saying a lot for the fearless Hemet Nesingwary, hunter extraordinaire, king of the frosty wilds, and owner of this great beast, the Predatoria, rarely fears anything besides a shortage of ale! I sure am glad that snare didn’t fail back at the Orcs camp; else I’d surely be done for.

I saw her take a bullet today, from a Nesingwary 4000 at that! She shrugged it off and ripped the poor lad to shreds, then ate the corpse! What is this beast? I can’t even find a bullet hole in ‘er hide. She has the thickest, glossiest coat I’ve ever seen on a feline, but surely she’d have at least bled from it. Blood should’ve shown up clean on her white coat easy, but I don’t see a single spot.

I sure am glad I won her over. If she ever turns on me, not even my blunderbuss will save me. This creature terrifies me.

(More entries on page two)
This is great! I'd love to be there to see that arrogant dwarf ripped apart by your sharp claws. Your stories are <3
Kick !@# love it
This is my new favorite thing on the internet.
I love this <3
love it
Clearly an impostor. Hemet would never tame something that could make a nice wall trophy.
Lol, this is awesome! :D Continue it, please!
09/10/2015 10:33 PMPosted by Colbor
Clearly an impostor. Hemet would never tame something that could make a nice wall trophy.

Lad, ye head be crooked. Too much fumes from yer bike, I reckon. Do ye really think any ol' Dwarf could mimic a beard of this glory? Bah, amateurs. I'd be a fool t' be kill'n somet'n that could further m' career, and she suits m' better alive as is the current time. Will I be tak'n 'er head fer me wall eventually? O'course lad! T's soon as she is o' no further value. Need not t' say I have some bus'ness needs t' be tak'n care of in Tanaan Jungle. Never underestimate t' help o' a loyal beast by yer side to further yer hunt.

I'm glad ye all enjoyed m' tales o' tam'n the beast. Honestly, it wasn't so hard. Then again, yer look'n at t' finest hunter o' all Azeroth! The illustrious Hemet Nesingwary, hunter extraordinaire, conqueror of the frozen wilds of Winterspring, and owner of Predatoria, the vile, vicious, ferocious snow beast. I could do it again w' the remnants of last nights ale cloud'n me head, I reckon!

Grab a chair, sit by t' fire roast'n the boar from last nights hunt. I'll be tell'n the story further soon, lads.
Bumping for rp day. I unfortunately didn't get around to writing more yet
Leave it to green-horn to tame a feral cat.

The only right thing to do is to drop it dead in it's tracks, salvage the skin, and whatever meat isn't wormy, and toss the carcass into the sea to feed the fish.

Dam flat-landers molesting my hunt.

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