(Written by Sethian of Prophecy, who managed to depict Saranini's personality perfectly)
She sits there, at the river’s edge, a rose in her hair. Her silhouette rests against the old oak, slowly rising as she walks down to the stream.
Thorwick O’Sprigwranckle was a typical gnome. Though gifted with an expansive mind and tiny hands, fit for creating the tiniest components for the grandest of machinery, he never was much of a ladies’ man. As he aged he began to crave for someone to share those moments of glory when you attach that last bolt into a device that wouldn’t – this time – explode to smithereens, to discuss the latest articles Engineer’s World had to offer and perhaps even to mother a gnomeling or two for him.
It wasn’t much of a surprise that when a friend of his suggested he could set up a blind date with an acquintance of his, Thorwick seized the opportunity immediately.
He regretted not having been more patient and waiting to hear something about the lady now that the moment was here, though. He was peeking from behind a large tree, wondering how he should introduce himself, what they would talk about. Heck, he hadn’t even thought of where they would go. This meeting spot seemed awfully romantic and he feared it would raise expectations too high.
Come on, Thorwick. Grab yourself by the neck. “Hi, I’m Thorwick,” that’s all it takes. Let’s go, old chap.
Thorwick began to move. The gnomette returned back to the old oak where they were supposed to meet.
By glorious Gnomeregan, she’s beautiful. Even her hair has an aura of sublimity to it. How can it, defying all laws of nature, stand so tall on it’s own...
But as he got closer, the silhouette began to gain color, and under the red evening sun he was left face to face with a rather... disgruntled lady.
“G-g-g-good day, m’am,” said Thorwick, bowing deep. “I am-“
“YOU ARE LATE IS WHAT YOU ARE,” screamed the gnomette. Still bowing, Thorwick gulped before standing up to hide his sudden, or rather suddenly increased, insecurity.
“Ahem, yes, and I apologise for it, I truly am sorry. I hope I can make it up to you, miss...”
“Saranini,” she muttered and shoved a hand in his face.
“Thorwick O’Sprigwranckle,” Thorwick said and gently kissed the hand. “So... where would you like to go?”
“You... You tell me...” Saranini stuttered and Thorwick thought the air began vibrating suddenly. Thorwick yelped and fell backwards as the vibration around Saranini exploded. “YOU DARE COME TO ME AN HOUR LATE AND THEN MAKE ME COME UP WITH THE EVENTS?!”
What has Lugger gotten me into, though Thorwick, furiously shaking his head from side to side. Now was the time to come up with something, and do so fast.
“No! No! That is not at all what I meant! I, uh, just meant if you had thought of something...” he began, dodged a fireball and continued “which of course was silly of me and I have everything planned out!”.
The fires subsided and the distortion of wrath faded from Saranini’s face, melting into the gentlest smile.
“How pleasant. What have you in mind?”
“Well, I was planning on...” Thorwick muttered, glanced around nervously for any leads. He noticed a salmon jumping up the river. “Fishing! Yes, I hear the fish are just nibbling...”
“Sounds marvelous!” Saranini said, clapping her hands together. “Grizzly Hills are simply stunning at this season!”
Grizzly Hills? Thorwick had been thinking of Westfall. He quickly glanced in his pocket, the boat was free of charge due to some campaign event, but gryphon rides cost an arm and a leg these days.
“Uh, I was thinking...”
He was interrupted as Saranini grabbed him into a portal.
After Thorwick had done vomiting in the middle of the Silver Enclave (“could’ve mentioned you’ve never taken a portal, usually the waste comes out of the other end,” muttered Saranini, tapping her foot next to Thorwick) they jumped off the landing area of Dalaran, gliding through the air towards Grizzly Hills.
“So... what’re you into,” said Thorwick finally, to break the silence.
“What?!” yelled Saranini back at him.
“I asked what are you into!” Thorwick replied. Guess it wasn’t so silent, what with the howling wind and all.
Saranini thought a moment, before simply replying “fire!” with an innocent smile.
“Ah, yes. Fire, without it, we would be... well, cold atleast! What do you specifically like about fire?”
“Well, for starters it’s so versatile! You can cook, and roast, and toast, and burn and incinerate...”
“Yes, it certainly is useful for cooking.”
“I was talking of ways to kill a man,” Saranini said with a lunatic glare in her eyes, then noticed Thorwick leering at her.
“I kid.”
Thorwick didn’t respond. They spent the rest of the flight quiet.
They landed right next to a river flowing through the woodlands. An idyllic scene: the aforementioned river flowing through the aforementioned woodlands, deers with eyes the size of plates getting maimed and eaten by wolves with fangs the size of large daggers or small shortswords.
“Ah, the cycle of nature,” said Saranini, watching the maiming, then turned to Thorwick. “Gimme my rod, please.”
Thorwick looked at her, then around them, lifted a finger to signal for her to wait a moment and pulled out his gnomish army knife. He ran up to a young tree and began chopping it down with the miniscule blade.
Saranini sighed at him trying to get the sproutling down, told him to move aside and let forth a spray of flame from her palms, knocking down a great tree.
The flames bit their way through the ancient wood until two gnome-sized, charred fishing rods where all that remained.
“There! Now we fish,” said Saranini happily and tried tying a bait on the rod.
Except they had no bait.
Nor anything to tie it to.
Tapping her foot disgruntled, Thorwick excused himself to quickly run down to the Alliance basecamp to buy some bait and thread to serve as fishing line.
Well, this isn’t the least what I’d expected, sighed Thorwick as he returned with the bait. She’s more... temperamental than what Thorwick had hoped for.
He found her standing in the water, trying to catch fish with her bare hands. Suddenly Thorwick was overcome with a feeling that can only be described with the word “aww”. Thorwick didn’t think she would be this close to nature.
A salmon jumped past Saranini, who with a wild scream shot a fireball out of her hand, sending the fish flying into a pile a distance away from the stream.
I should’ve seen this coming, thought Thorwick and rolled his eyes.
“I see you got down to business already.”
“Yup.”
“I suppose you don’t need these then?”
“Nope. This is more fun,” she said and launched a flaming boulder at a bear approaching her turf, smashing it’s head clean off.
There’s a fine line between barbaric and close to nature, Thorwick thought, examining the newly headless bear. Thorwick didn’t get much fishing done. After Saranini got bored of knocking fish out of the water, Thorwick asked if they would begin dining soon. Saranini then informed fish disgusted her, and to emphasise turned the river into a steaming pile of... steam, and to further emphasise scorched the flopping fish that remained.
By then, Thorwick had pretty much given up hope of saving the evening and decided to escort her back home. After saying their goodbyes and good nights Thorwick turned to leave, only to be caught by the sleeve by Saranini.
“Hey, when’ll we see each other again?”
The sudden turn of events caught Thorwick by surprise.
“Uh? Oh, um, I hadn’t really thought about it. I thought you didn’t really like me.”
“Are you kidding? I had a blast! Did you know blue-gilled grizzlyfish only lives at the river you took me to?”
“Really? I had no idea.”
“Neither will the future generations,” cackled Saranini.
They went out a few more times after that. The relationship ended when Thorwick made the mistake of describing spending time with Saranini as “cool”, setting forth manslaughter that ended the O’Sprigwranckle family line.