A day in the life of your toon

We stumbled upon a few bloggers doing this challenge from Z & Cinder, and it got us thinking about what a day in the life of Soforah and Sardoken would be like.

Sardoken’s day

Just like everyday, I don’t wait for the sun to rise, I get up and I do my exercises: one thousand push-ups (on one hand) and 5 rounds of Orgrimmar, I don’t even break a sweat. What did you think, that I had these fabulous muscles for free, it takes a lot of work, you know?!

Then, I go to the market to buy some groceries. My awesome new tattoos don’t go unnoticed, a group of young nymphets scream when they see me, but I’m used to it and I don’t even look at them.

I get back to our home and I do the chores. I try to remain as silent as I can, I wouldn’t want to wake up Soforah who’s still dreaming (probably of me).
I know that I spoil her, my friends don’t even know how to cook or how to clean. But she deserves the best, and I think we can safely say that this is exactly what she gets.

After having prepared her breakfast, I write a little note to my pumpkin pie. I let her know that I’ll be spending the day honoring the flame at the bonfire of Suramar. My old friend Marcel, probably the holiest guy I’ve ever known, has been asked to take care of it. I’ll be back before dawn.

I then take a windrider to Meredil and meet my old buddy. Very respectfully, we share a drink and memories of the past.

At that moment, I notice a young Night Elf girl approaching silently, a bucket in her hand. She thinks that she goes unnoticed, but nothing escapes my keen eyes. I also see three Suramar guards closing in on her, but she’s so focused on not spilling the water, that she pays no attention to them.

Horde or Alliance, it doesn’t matter to me. You see, I’m made of pure hero material, I can’t let a lady get in trouble. It’s a good occasion to practice my blind shooting, so I fire a shot over my shoulder, using only my hearing, not my sight. As expected, the bullet kills all three guards at once.

I walk to to the poor thing, she’s still shaking, but I sense that it isn’t out of fear anymore. I understand what’s going on… Like so many before her, she’s falling for my natural charm. Eventhough I can’t understand her language, I know that she’s probably offering herself to me. And, just like so many before her, I respectfully decline. You see, this magnificent Orc is already taken. I could get her name though… Alunaria. Well, little elf, your name will be on the list of my broken hearts.

An hour later, guess who decides to show up. Yep, Soforah finally got out of bed. She missed the action, but I feel better knowing that she was safe.

Soforah’s day

It’s eleven in the morning, and I’ve already done so much. The shopping is done and the dinner is ready for this evening. Sardoken, as usual, is still sleeping. He snores so loud that the cuttlery on the table is moving on its own.

I’d say that I do the chores silently, but honestly nothing could wake this slumbering Orc, only the smell of his coffee. It’s nearly noon when he finally decides to show up. He drinks what he calls his morning cup of Joe, I call it a bucket. Before I realise, he’s already gone and he has left me an almost unreadable note: Marcel – Bonfire – Suramar. My man, the poet.

I’d better go there myself, you have no idea what these two are capable of. Let me describe you the famous best friend of my husband: You already knew green Orcs and brown Orcs, but you propably didn’t know about red Orcs. Well, to my knowledge, there is only one. Marcel drinks so much that he’s permanently red-faced and his nose is deformed by the thousands (millions?) of beers he drank in his life. I don’t think that I’d hurt his feelings by calling him “the local town drunk”, he’d probably take it as a compliment.

While I love my man, I also know that he is not a saint. These two together is the perfect recipe for disaster. If we would want to get rid of the Legion, we’d just have to send these two with a few bottles of beer. Few are those who could survive it. Fortunately, I’m one of them. That’s why I’m heading to Meredil.

My mount hasn’t landed yet, but I can already hear their laughter. As I approach the place where the flame is located, I almost trip over the empty bottles they’ve left behind.
Here it is, the mighty scene of Sardoken and Marcel “honoring” the flame. They can’t even stand anymore, so drunk they are. All they can do is singing songs that would violate the most sinful ears. This bonfire has to be the most unholy in the entire festival.

Not far from them, I notice a young Night Elf approaching the fire to extinguish it. She didn’t notice the three Suramar guards closing in on her. I can’t expect my two heroes to do anything. In the state that they are, they probably can’t see anything anymore.

As I start to run, I ready my bow. My arrows reach their aim almost before my wolf could take care of the hostiles. The Night Elf says something, but I don’t understand her language. However, I can see that she’s grateful. She drops her bucket as a way to say that she won’t desecrate this fire.

I pick up the bucket and spill its entire content on Sardoken, who can barely stand. I drop him on the back of my mount and bring him back home, where he falls in a deep coma, until the next day…