#kun lai

Well, here it is ... it's snowing and it's windy, I put it in Kun Lai sauce!

bon ben voila... comme il neige et en plus il fait du vent, je le met à la sauce Kun Lai !

Weird glitch during a Timewalking run of the Shado-Pan Monastery:

That is far too loud, thought Osprey as the hunting knife she had hurled at the man’s back connected. He turned his head round toward her, dark eyes filled with untempered rage. And then he dropped to the ground, holding his abdomen. Kestrel had stuck the man several times with his kris; several times in quick succession. Osprey was already drawing her semi-automatic sidearm, chambering a round, when Swan called out –

“Avalanche!”

Kestrel had stopped short, hesitating over the body of their fallen assailant; the man’s cutlasses, quite bright and well-maintained, had fallen onto the icy path and skittered down the path along the frozen granite. Osprey, however, did not hesitate. She flipped the sidearm in her hand and held it by the barrel. One of the remaining members of the ambush party – tall, thin, blonde, seemingly androgynous – was staring at the wall of snow that had begun to flood down upon them from the sides of the box canyon. Osprey swung as hard as she could at the person’s temple, pistol-whipping them. She caught the assailant as they crumpled to the ground, and started to drag them up the slippery path by their collar.

“You stupid motherfu–” she shouted at the unconscious body she was dragging behind her just as the snow had overtaken them all – her, Kestrel, Swan, and whoever this person was. She could feel herself start toward the ground as the snow closed around her ankles, her calves, her waist. And then she felt nothing at all.

–

When she awoke, the orange, swirling light of their Neverest basecamp made her screw her eyes shut. She could hear Birdhat and the other grummels tending to Wren and Kestrel. She had seen Kestrel gain a nasty, bloody gash to his forearm just before she threw her hunting knife into his assailant’s back, but was not quite sure what was wrong with Wren.

All she could hear were excited voices, panicked shouts of coördination amongst the sherpas. She realized she was cold, but was not shivering. She forced herself to open her eyes. Twilight had long since past; the light from their bonfire cast the steadily falling snow ablaze. Her eyes flit about the camp. At least Lark had dropped that ridiculous horse form and decided to use her hands, rather than her hooves. Baby steps. She was conferring with Albatross about something, more likely than not her missed trip to the Valley.

Osprey sighed heavily; she was extraordinarily drowsy. She started to rub her arms with her hands, desperate to bring some kind of movement to her body, to inspire herself into warmth. All to no avail. Nature, it would seem, was too strong for her. She had no desire to die on this mountain – yet would have not been surprised if she did.

Grummle:  “Look, pretty girl, look!  The nice void elf brought some kafa treats for you!”