ARI SCARA

Origins

Being at the edge of war with the alliance the great war chief Thrall was quick to discover the need for smaller strike forces to overcome challenges that demands subtlety, there are scenarios where an entire legion of horde soldiers would do more damage than good by their presence. Hence came the guilds, each specializing in ways to serve the Horde in their own way. As the conflict evolved these guilds grew and many developed partly beyond the war chiefs control having private agendas that didn't always involve the will of the war chief. Ari Scara is one of those guilds that although has the Hordes goals as their primary concern, still manage to grow prosper and strengthen their ranks without the aid of the war chief or the horde.

The Name

The name Ari Scara means Spirit Wolf in orchish and is chosen because we felt it compelling to have a role-playing name that meant something game related. It’s a reference to the spirit of the wolf who resides in every true champion of the horde. It is wild, ferocious and untamed.

Area of operation

The Ari Scara operate all over Kalimdor and Azeroth, gathering intelligence and artefacts and operating where needed in order to keep the opposition at bay and hindering all out open war. Prefering peace and diplomacy to blood and violence, the Ari Scara never brings the torch or pitchfork to allianc settlements. But as with most guilds of the Horde, whenever there is a call to arms, the Ari Scara are the frontrunners in the defence -force without fear of death or extinction. Although this has often led to foolhardiness in the heat of battle, no one questions Ari Scara courage.

World History

Fore those interested in the history of Azeroth wowvault.ign.com has, among other things, provided a good compilation of the worlds history from beginning to present day. It is also available here in a less fancy presentation: warcraftHistory.txt . Right click and select "save target as" for download.

Lore of the world a travellers journal by Shmee

On my travels to the humans lands I have come a cross lore of how they think the world is created, they think it is made by titans. Huge manlike things and after what I know the Trogg's was the first thing they made, and then the dwarfs. But in my heart I know it was the Earthmother that created the world, she was the one to give us life and form the lands of which we walk upon. She did it all, not titans like the humans think she gave us the sun and the moon out of love for us. But there may be some true words in what the lore of humans tell, but before I know more of the titan's I will trust the Earthmother as I always have

The lore of the titans is blurred and incoherent to me but as I travel the world I will discover more, and get what I need to know of them and see if there is a bound between the titans and the Earthmother.

The Earthmother is all around us and help us when we are in danger; she provides us with her fruit and beasts for us to eat, and her waters and winds quench our thirst and guide us in our paths. We must honour her love by guarding her vulnerabilities and protect her virtues.

All this I learned in my time of travel, and what I find I in the future I will share in this journal

What I know of the titans is that they travel from world to world and mould them as they see fit. Creating life artificially and making the world as they like, they experimenting with new forms of life on all the worlds they visit and no world is the same once they have left. The Orcs is from one of the worlds and are unlike all we have on Azeroth, I know less of this world, Dreanor, and can't say much of it, what I do know is what I´ve learned from reading.
The world we live in is nothing like the world the Orcs come from. But I can't say I acknowledge the titan lore as much is hidden and lost, and I don't
think the humans know much more then I. Much is hidden in shadows and hard get and much is rewritten to further the human agenda.

Edited slightly by Cajuungumbo

Who are we

Cajuungumbo and the forming of the Ari Scara

Son on a fisherman and a cook and being raised in Zen´Jin village when his parents moved their after Thrall landed on the Shores of Kalimdor. Being the offspring of two rudimentary Trolls whose main duty to the horde during the war had been making rations, he never really got into the hole "for the horde" thing and didnt learn how to fight until very late, instead he followed in the footsteps of his parents and learned how to fish and cook. But as time grew troublesome in the years that followed the great conflict he had to enlist in the service of the Horde by orders of the Great war chief. He tried to convince the sergeant at the bootcamp at the Valley of Trials that he didn't knew how to fight or kill but was excellent at preparing meat and soup. Due to the stress of the potential threat of war, and the fact that orcs always seem to draw parralels to battle, this got interpreted as a Shaman.

Not quite content he decided not to make a fuss about it and started his training by learning the ways of the spirits and elements. Although the training was long and hard he secretly managed sneak of from time to time and pursue his true goals. At day he manipulated the elements under supervision of the Spirit tutor and at night he snuck of home to Zen´Jin and the ocean where he fished, cooked and ate.

when his training was complete he was sent of to report to a local warboss in Razor Hill where he was to be stationed. Along the way he met Ghazkull, Zouljab and Kaldor who were, just as he, fresh out of bootcamp. They formed a band of friends and promised that they would stick together no matter what the world bid them. Although the discipline was strict in the beginning, they soon earned the respect after performing several crucial tasks for Razor Hill defence and was later released from active duty. They now ventured to Orc Grimmar where they met with the Great war chief and it was he who ordered the forming of the Ari Scara as a precision tool used were the presence of an entire legion would do more harm than good. The period that followed they journeyed throughout the Mid-Western Kalimdor.

Cajuun wandered the lands, a cook disguised as a Shaman, and aided the Orcs, Trolls and Taurens wherever he could, not always alone but often in the company of his friends. On the steppes of Mulgore he one day came across a Tauren surrounded by a mob of kobolds, injured but fiercly fighting them off. He aided the mighty Druid and they immediately became friends. Cajuun explained him of the task that was layed upon him by the war chief and altough reluctant at first he later decided to join the cause and has been a valuable asset ever since. Although many pursued power Cajuun coveted knowledge above all else and was filled with joy everytime he came across a book or tome filled with wonderous stories of the history of the world. He especially enjoyed those that contained the history of the Trolls as his old folks never really explained why and how they came into the service of the horde.

As time passed his knowledge of history grew and the Ari Scara expanded and their exploits sometimes extended overseas although they still withhold that their home is the Barrens and they all met occasionally for beer and the sharing of stories from their countless adventures and battles at the warm inn in the Crossroads.

Kaldor, da mighty warlock

All memories from Kaldors youth is a blur and that is good. Occasionally a memory of a savage beating from his fellow orcs or some trolls mocking him for being to weak pops up, but they are quickly locked away again.

There are also faint memories of the Valley of Trials and the only reason that they aren't locked away as well, is because some good is among them. Namely the meeting of his friends Cajuungumbo, Ghazkull and Zouljab. It was because of these three he kept going, but even though they were great friends they couldn't make up for the fact that Kaldor was not fit to be a soldier.

Not a day went by without Kaldor being mocked or even beaten by the horde soldiers, and one day after a particular savage beating, Kaldor fled into the Cleft of Shadows under Orgrimmar. From a dark place between two huts, Kaldor swore a silent oath of revenge on the entire horde, and as he finished that thought he was approached by an old orc, who introduced himself as Grol'dar. He showed Kaldor to his hut and there he started teaching him the way of the Warlock.

Kaldor was amazed by the secrets of the otherworld and each time he learned a new power, he wanted more. He started summoning demons into the world and learned the secrets to enslave them. He sucked the lifeforce from his enemy and called giant fireballs down from the skies, but most important of all: He learned of the place called Undercity.

Here the boundaries between life and death were a little less... real and people like Kaldor, who drew his power from the otherworld weren't looked down on, as it was the case in Kalimdor. He spend a lot of time in the lands of the undead and learned even more dark secrets, but no matter how much he learned, it could never settle his craving for more power. Soon he would have his revenge...

Ghazkull, Armsmaster of The Ari Scara.

Son of Mokkrash, Ghazkull was born in freedom. His father was a Blacksmith according to the long and lasting tradition in the bloodline of the family. From early childhood, Ghazkull was taught the secrets of Mining and Blacksmithing. And Mokkrash was a skilled teacher indeed. But even with his father’s tutelage it was soon obvious that Ghazkull possessed more than just talent as a Blacksmith. He was powerfully built and had a great passion for combat and fighting. His father taught him what he could with the various weapons he himself had skills with.

Ghazkull grew both in power as a Warrior and in skill as a Smith. He gained the respect of many from his tribe. But the Elders were worried.. Mokkrash was one of those who had been tainted with the Deamon Blood that once threatened to destroy the Tribes. That had been ended when Thrall freed them from their demonic enslavers. But Ghazkull had an almost unnatural skill at the forge, inventing and finding new weapons and armor far beyond what was normal for his age and knowledge. Some spoke of a taint while others dismissed it as stupid fears. His skills did his tribe good and most saw no use in putting an end to that.

Then it all came to an aprupt end when the Ogres attacked. Out of the blue a tribe of Ogres led by the Ogre Mage Gol’Darr stormed Ghazkull’s village killing most and enslaving the rest of the tribe. Gol’darr had heard rumors about an Orc with smithing skills without equal.. The remains of the tribe was brought back to the Ogre’s stronghold high in the mountains and there Gol’darr forced Mokkrash to work at the forge supllying and supervising the crafting of armors and weapons for the Ogres. Little did Gol’darr realize that it was the son of Mokkrash that possessed the skill he was looking for...

Mokkrash decided that even though it could cost him his own life he would protect his son and did the Ogre Mage’s bidding. He tried his best to hide Gol’darr’s mistake by surpassing himself in his work even though he knew that he was helping those who had killed his kinsmen.

And so time passed... For years the remaining Orcs were held captive in the mines of the Ogres. And even though the Ogre Mage could see that his armoury was being stocked with items of great quality, none of them possessed the power he yearned for. Believing that Mokkrash possessed the power but denied it to Gol’darr, the Ogre Mage tortured Mokkrash and finally killed him in anger of the Orc’s unwillingness to yield..

This was Gol’darr’s undoing. When Ghazkull heard of his fathers death he was caught by an unquenchable bloodlust. He grapped a red hot poker and slew the nearest guards. Seizing a huge two-handed axe he quickly gathered a band of Orcs and started rebelling against the Ogres and fighting his way through to Gol’darr.

After hours of bloody close quarter fighting he reached the Ogre Mage’s inner chambers. As his fellow Orcs fought the bodyguards of Gol’darr, Ghazkull went straight for the Ogre Mage. Finally he slew Gol’darr and the few remainging Orcs fought their way to freedom. But when they left the Ogre stronghold they realized that Ghazkull was nowhere to be seen. They fled the mountain mourning the loss of Mokkrash, Ghazkull and those who had fallen in the fighting.

Days later Ghazkull’s body was found on the southern coasts of Durotar by none other than Vol’Jin, leader of the Darkspear Trolls. Immediately Vol’Jin sensed that Ghazkull was an Orc with immense potential but he also sensed somthing else.. He could not decide what it was but had a felling that would not be so easily dismissed. Finally he decided to contact Thrall and send Ghazkull to Orgrimmar. There Ghazkull recovered while the war chief himself watched over him trying to uncover what secret was buried in the young orc. He decided that he would keep an eye on Ghazkull and after talking with him, sent him on his first quest to the Valley of Trials. Ghazkull was ordered to report back to the war chief whenever important news would come his way. And so in showing Ghazkull trust he found a way to watch the young Orc’s progress as he would grow in power.

Ghazkull left for The Valley of Trials and soon found friends there in Cajuungumbo, Zouljab and Kaldor. And thus his adventures began...

Gradunk, Hunter and Engineer of Ari Scara

For as long as he could remember, Gradunk never thrived in the city and villages of the Horde. Not even the village where he was born seemed to please him. In his youth his parents tried their best to make him play with the other children in the village, but with little luck. As soon as he got outside their house, he would venture into the forest, and not come home until late at night... and sometime not come home until he was found by the local forest ranger. The rangers name was H'ratok, and he had allways had a special relation to Gradunk. Gradunk had always looked up to H'ratok because of H'ratoks ability to talk to the trees and the animals, he was a part of the nature. That was something that Gradunk deeply admired, and Gradunk saw H'ratok more as his father than he did his own.

H'ratok, for many years, got Gradunk back to his parrents night after night. But both the parents and the old ranger knew that Gradunk would never thrive in a village or city. So they sat down on Gradunks 12-years birthday,and asked him if he would like to be Hra'toks apprentice and live with him in his hut by the forest. Gradunk was silent for almost a minute, as if the question had paralyzed him. And then he jumped up shouting "yes", and he ran to his room, and started packing. This really broke his mothers heart, but Gradunk was too young to understand.

After that night Gradunk only saw his parents on rare occasions... and 4 later he was told that his parents had died. This reached deeper into Gradunks pool of emotions than he thought possible, and for the first time, he realized what they had given up on... The chance to watch their boy grow, and become a man.

Gradunk Lived with H'ratok for some years. One day Gradunk had wandered the forest, and it had been full of life. But all of a sudden, it was as if the entire forest died. Not a sound was to be heard. The animals just sat silent where they were and not a wind move in the trees. Gradunk scouted everywhere in the forest, but couldn't find anything that could silence an entire forest. Puzzled he ran back to H'ratoks hut to ask the old ranger for his advice. As he got back to the hut, it too was silent. As he stepped inside he saw Hra'tok sleeping on his bed. At first he didn't think further of this, so he tried to wake up H'ratok. Only then he did he realize, that this too was wrong. He couldn't wake up H'ratok, no matter what he did... he then knew that H'ratok was dead. He died where he was happy... Near the forest. Gradunk did an old Ranger-ritual that H'ratok once told him of. He took H'ratoks body and wrapped it in leaves and berries, and then he buried him among the roots of an ancient tree.

Gradunk tried to lift the burden, which H'ratok had left when he died. But there was too much sorrow bound to this place. So Gradunk packed his riffle and summoned his pet VenomSpike, an armoured scorpid, and set out to find a new meaning in his life. For almost a year he wandered around Kalimdor, with no destination. He met a warrior who encouraged Gradunk to head for a place called the Valley of Trials. The Warrior said that they were looking for new recruits for the rank in the army of The Horde.

At the Valley of Trials Gradunk trained hard, and became a good marksman. he was honoured for his skills with a riffle. When his time at the Valley of Trials was over, he headed out to help the people of Kalimdor. It wouldn't take long until he heard tales of a newfound guild, called Ari Scara, which was on everybody’s tongue. And after a few weeks of tracking the Ari Scara he found some of them gathered at Cross Roads. He immediately sought membership... the rest is history...

Taureness Meda

By Tauren standards, Meda was coined one of the ''Fortunate Ones'' - those who had survived the Great War without great loss or injury. Perhaps they were right in their own way of thinking, for there were none in Meda's immediate family who were killed or maimed. Her parents and brother all survived relatively unscathed.. physically at least.

Meda was but a toddler during the wave of the invasion. That which brought forth an onslaught led by the cowardly centaurs who wished for nothing less than complete control and authority over all of Mulgore and the extinction of the Tauren people. The Kolkars barreled forth from nearly every direction as if a swarm of locusts, wielding tools of genocide.

Meda's recollections of the Kolkar Invasion remain but a hazy blur to her now. Her parents had an extensive network due to their prestige and standing not only in Mulgore, but throughout all regions of Kalimdor, and they made good use of these connections to hide Meda and her brother way, just days before the gathering centaurs began their assault. She would return to Thunder Bluff just as the smoke and flames of funeral pyres of the first cremations had begun to lose their intensity. She had smelled the smoke from the back of a giant Kodo mount before they had even reached the borders of Mulgor.

Meda's father wasted no time in making an example of the brutal realities of war. She was shown the worst of the battlefields by him, a place where the ground was stained crimson, where the scent of recently killed flesh flared her nostrils. Corpses so tangled and bloodied that it was nearly impossible to tell one from the next... where one body began and where it ended.

These were the images that were burned into Meda's childhood memories. The lessons her father had given her of pride and prejudice, lessons of war which he illustrated with a tour of the Golden Plains, forever marred to a young Tauren girl.

Although the Tauren pushed the half-horse men back from their borders and dwindled the population as well, their own Tribe had taken a severe hit in numbers, nearly diminished to half of what the thriving Tauren once were.

When at last what remained of centaurian bodies had burned, their ashes whisked away by swift Mulgorean winds, and the last Tauren had received proper burial rites, Thunder Bluff slowly began to recover. But the vrey winds that took hold of enemy ashes, too delivered a somber air to Meda and her family. They mourned the loss of their people, of friends and familiars. But somewhere along the lines, came superstitious whispers of the ''the fortunate one'' to follow Meda's trail. And so began the rumors and gossip that Meda's father had been a traitor to the Tauren. That he had sold critical information of Tauren war strategy to the Kolkars in exchange for his family's safe passage out of Thunder Bluff. So outrageous the claims, that Cairne Bloodhoof would chair a council meeting to put the lies to rest, yet it took years before the damage begun to unwind.

Meda's intense hatred of the Kolkars had landed her in situations she should have not have found herself in. Often did she cross into the Barrens, far too young, simply to taunt and throw rocks at Kolkar patrols. She was lucky to escape them as often as she did. But luck would not always smile upon her.

Meda had turned a ripe 16 years old, when deciding that she was worthy of her own freedom to do as she wished. She crossed into Mulgore, hugging the incline of the mountains in the east, when she had run into a massive band of Kolkars. With vile Razormane defenders behind her, and the Kolkars closing in, she was trapped and as it was, soon to be discovered by one of the centaur's hyena slave hounds. She fought them tooth and nail, and it was not until her spirit had begun to depart her that they had turned away from her. Meda's mind flashed with hope that perhaps that had taken mercy upon her, but still she knew this could not be. And in fact it wasn't. There was an orc, in the distance, slaughtering the Kolkar easily. Through blurred vision, Meda watched him, until he had approached her, bloodied somewhat, but victorious. He lifted her, telling her his name Ghazkull, one that she would never forget. And while she healed, he spoke to her of her hasty actions, warning that acting foolishly in the grips of hatred would do nothing other than bring her death.

She tagged after him, young Meda did. And it was during this time that Meda questioned his apparel. He belonged to the Ari Scara, ''wolf spirit'' in the orcish tongue. After hounding him to no end, it was then he brought her to a meeting of the guild, and soon, Meda too was a member of the Ari Scara.

However Ghazkull did manage to fall upon her was a mystery for some time. Meda never asked so much about it, for she was ashamed by her brash, sloppy attack. But Ghazkull would reveal his motives for being in those parts in his own time...

Emongolus the Shaman

Son of a Kodo herder and alchemist he was born in Thunderbluff and was raised to be a Kodo herder but his father and mother where killed by some night elves when they where looking for some woolly Kodo's in the barrens. The ill news was brought by his grandfather who was a high shaman. Emongolus understood mourned and craved for revenge.

He asked his grandfather to teach him the way of the spirits and elements. He knew that the training was long and difficult but he desperately wanted to go through with it and after a year he became recognized as a respectable Tauren shaman and he sought the audience of Cairne Bloodhoof. The Tauren chief sent him on a mission to the Barrens. He went there without anybody knowing that he was after the blood of the elves that killed his parents. When he left Thunderbluff he had nothing left his grandmother and grandfather had prior to his leaving been overrun by a stampede of Kodos and died instantly.

After a long journey he arrived in the Barrens. Here he met a Tauren called Pelklou who was also seeking the death of the night elves. Together they wandered the Barrens looking for signs of the elves, and when they had finally tracked them down they attacked and fought valiantly. It was a hard earned victory and the battle lasted long. They celebrated this victory in the inn in Crossroads and that was the same place where they decided to split up and since then, they never saw each other again...

After they had said goodbye Emongolus met Cajuungumbo. The old troll shaman had noted his bravery on the battlefield and offered to teach him the craft of leatherworking. Emongolus accepted and asked if he could join his guild of mighty warriors known as the Ari Scara…

Stomper Horngor

Interview with the Bullman: Here follows the precise and accurate account of my chance meeting with the Tauren known as Horngor. It took place in the early hours in a dirty tavern in Ratchet.

by Gulliver Flintstone: Travelling Storyteller and fungus vendor.

Me: That's an interesting name you got there Horngor. Is it okay if I call you Horngor?
H: U be talking to me?
Me: Uhm - yes. I hope thats okay. I would like to ask you a few questions if thats allright?
H: Umhf - ok den, but don u be asking bout my past. Dat be private. I be strong, mysterious type.
Me: Ah - No problem. What are you doing in Rachet. Hunting pirates perhaps?
H: Well if u be insisting - I got it when I was only a wee runt - My mum used to say - don stick ur horn in de food, or i'll shave your mane, an break of the other horn. U see - I lost my right horn when I was playing with my younger brother Stikkelsberg, spying on de Kolkars. Get it? HORN - GOR...
Me: Uh - eh - I thought you didn't like talking about your past.
H: Well, don ask me den u nibwit.
Me: Oh - "pause" - ok, well. Lets get back to the interview. What are you doing in Ratchet now?
H: So when I be 7 winters old I thought to miself. If I gonna be sumthin in dis world, I better get started now. So one night, when mum was sleepin, an Stikkelsberg was put to bed - U know - hes only my halfbrother, an Stikkelsberg be just a nickname, I packed sum food, slung my good ol' hammer over my back, an den I set off to meet Cairn Blodhoof.
Me: .... mkaaay!
H: Yes dat's right - de big chief himself. Some say he be five hundreds winters old.
Me: And thats where you became a warrior?
H: I'm no warrior, Who u be calling a warrior. U BE CALLING ME A WARRIOR?
Me: Forgive me, I thought, well - you have a sword, and a very big helmet.
H: I BE COOK - GOT IT? An a damn good one if I must say so. I do a little blacksmithing an fishing on de side as well. In dis world, u gots to be a good stomper in order to get all de right ingredients - u see. Dem critters wont give up their meat without a fight. Dats where all de swords armour an what-have-you comes in. It be all part of your standard cooking gear.
...
I do a little mercenaring as well - just on de side. To get monny fer spices an such... U see?
Me: Ah - I see. My mother used to make this excellent stew with clams and spider testicles!
H: Oh mercy me - I get dis all de time. My mother used to make dis an dat. My son likes to bake cookies. My Sister makes de best omlets. ENOUGH ALLREADY.

The conversation continues for several hours, all the while Horngor gets more confusing and incoherent. By now the reader should have a general idea of H's background and motivations. Any questions should be directed to Horngor by mail. Answers are not quaranteed...

Priestess Elizabetha

***
Elizabetha's memoirs are kept within a large, leather bound tome. Upon close inspection, it becomes clear that this was once a lustrous copy of the "Lordaeron Book of Common Prayer". All that remains, however, of this once proud treatise is its binding, the pages having long since been ripped out and replaced with rougher Orcish paper.

The end result is that the memoirs are a rather confusing affair. This poor quality is not helped by the fact that the memoirs seem to have been written by several people, or, on occasion, someone clearly not in their right mind. There are a good few pages that have script in an almost childlike hand, contrasted by the vast majority that are inked in fine and flowing characters.

Still, should a reader make the effort to seek the wisdom contained within the jumbled mass of text, then it is clear that there are great rewards to be gained. The writer, after all, is one of the most powerful practitioners of the Shadow art in all of Azeroth and she has seen a great many things that most lay people could only dream of.

Here follows a selection of entries from this aforementioned work, updated as further translation comes to light or as Elizabetha chooses to add to what is, essentially, a work in progress that will never end.

***

Have a lot of regrets, that is for sure.

It is a curious thing, in truth, that I, who have such a limited past to recall, have chosen to build a new one that surely contains more doubt and error than that of many mortal lifetimes combined. We often relive mistakes, it seems...even if we have been given a chance to try and avoid them.

My memoirs, it strikes me, will not be the lightest of reading. Really, there are very few good moments that I have been blessed with. Nonetheless, it is a sobering truth that many, who have been more lucky, are not alive this day to tell their tale. Misery, after all, is a protective teacher.

*Unintelligable scrawl*

Yes. It is with a heavy heart that i recall those first days in the town with no name. True, it must have had a name once, but when we arose it was but a ruin. Chaos raged in the streets and clawed its way out of the earth. The madness all started there. Nobody cared when I arose.

The creatures running about on those streets and in those dwellings were not really people as one would know them. True, they wore clothes and had names, but something about them had gone. They were like machines, as the gnomes would call them...copies of the people they once were...acting with minds that had taken their bodies as puppets.

The Forsaken, everywhere, in one night of fire and tribulation, fell upon the Farmers of the nearby villages and literally tore them apart. I do not remember much of it, for perhaps my mind was still too weak to do so and, in a way, i am thankful for that. I do not know if I could live with the things I did in the name of the terrible anger that drove me. It was that anger, however, that kept me alive.

...

I still do not know the name of that town, despite my efforts at research. It is as if the gods themselves have chosen to forget its existence. I think it is a blindness that has afflicted me...my own past's effort to stay hidden from the thing that I have become. I don't blame her really....the person i used to be, that dutiful farmer's wife or whatever fancy took me in those days. I don't remember.

But I see her sometimes...looking at me.

I think she feels sad, but i just see her as weak.

...

All Forsaken come to that time. It is a time when the body and mind cease to function. One floats on the astral breeze...it is a realm of dreams. For truly I am not meant to be alive and neither are my kin. We are but shells held together by wills of iron and anger. We are blasphemies against nature and all that she holds dear. But it endures, this shell and so I write my tale. My body is not really a part of me, i feel...it is just a shell I inhabit...like a crab.

But on the matter of dreams...it is that time when the walls of my shell grow very thin. I find myself gazing out and seeing things i can never really have. I wish for a happier life, a different life and i have a terrible urge to go home.

But I don't know where home is...not anymore.

*Scribbled text*

It isn't among the Horde, that is for sure. We are not truly welcome here and rightly so. Sylvanas and her Ilk would have the Horde slain. The Tauren religion declares us to be some sort of unnatural horror.

Rightly so.

So that leaves me in this very sad predicament. No home. No past as such and realistically no future. I find it quite funny, but i don’t really know why. Perhaps it is because it is so awful that admitting it were true would end it all. It would end me and I would simply no longer be.

...

No.

...

Emptiness is not my friend, but the will to live has not left me and that is why. I am alive because life has treated me so badly. I am still here because the universe needs someone for all these terrible things to happen to. I am Misery made manifest and that is why I am such a powerful practitioner of the Shadow way.

I am no priest of light and i despise those who would walk that way.

But perhaps there is some good in it. After all, if these things happen to me then i spare others that suffering. I carry the burden of them all, albeit unwillingly. Others would say there was some good in that. It is as if they speak from far away...it is hard to hear them.

I see it in their eyes, you know. The Alliance, when I see them, for they fear me and hate me in equal measure. But I am not like them and that I do take comfort in.

For one thing i am not is weak. I endure and i carry all this suffering without, upon my flesh and within, beside my soul. They are weak.

They fear me, because I am the thing they do not wish to become. I am, for want of a better phrase, "Forsaken by the Light".

Here I am for all to see, living proof of Uncaring in the world. Yes, it is true, that the light has looked down upon one of its followers and given all this suffering to me with not a jot of care.

If it can happen to me then it can happen to them.

That is what they fear.

...

Am I the one to tell this to them?

No. But they cannot ignore the truth when I am tearing the air from their throat and smiling as i run my claws through their flesh.

I am a messenger, from the Light indeed, with a special message for all of them that the time of their reckoning has come. They will all die, in horrible ways and I have been given immortality that i should be the one to administer and watch their suffering.

I am like a grave digger and the age of man is dead.

They just don't admit it.

...

The Horde, of course, has already died. Not unlike myself it has died and returned. I have no need to cast my holy judgement upon them, for their hearts and minds are pure, having been baptised in fire.

The time will come when I and my kind sweep away the rule of man and we become guardians of the Empire's ruins. Perhaps the Horde will revere us as elemental spirits. A dark reminder of the human foe.

A shadow of the past.

I envy the Horde for they are at their life's beginning. Not unlike me they are stuck within a desolate shell and are fighting to claim their life from the Human Empire that chooses to take it away. I find some solace with them and that is great mercy indeed, despite their often distrust in my nature.

I have a love of life when I am in Horde lands and their life is a pure and brittle thing. Like a shining star or a child's cry.

For all their bestial nature they are life incarnate and I am greatly proud to act as curator to it. One must protect and nurture the new even as he grinds the old into the earth. Thus it is that I am protector and shield to all of them, from Orgrimmar to Thunder Bluff. I have protective wings.

Brightness, when I think of these things.

Shadow when i recall the past.

...

Wocnam Druid

Wocnam had a simple childhood. He was left unharmed by the Great War, simply because his family lived in the high mountains near the Thousand Needles. He learned many useful things in his youth as the family was simple gatherers. Life in hiding was not bountiful but peaceful, much more peaceful than the fellow Tauren. The simple life gave Wocnam a close relationship with nature and put him in contact with his calling as a preserver of Nature’s Balance and a chosen one of the Earthmother.

Wocnam’s parents were adept at making the best of the Earth, taking simple flowers and strange roots in the ground and turn them into strong and health soups and potions that kept the family alive during the period in which they were hiding. But life away from others isn’t easy for a young male Tauren – something within him calls to him to seek out more than the insides of a small skin hut together with a small family, not even large enough to be called a village or an outpost.

Wocnam asked his parents to let him seek experience elsewhere – in order to seek a closer connection with the Earthmother, and let Wocnam better understand the dreams that had begun to haunt his sleep.

Dreams that showed a young Taureness in trouble, she had been sent on a quest by the spirits, but a quest that she could not complete herself. She simply did not posses the inner strength to complete the task before her. Unfortunately it was a quest that the Taureness needed to have completed in order to find peace with her self. This could of course mean nothing, but to Wocnam it meant everything – he needed to identify this young Taureness and help her in her endeavours and ensure that she would find the inner peace she needed.

Wocnam travelled to Mulgore and sought out the druidic trainers to seek their council. He needed help to interpret his dreams – dreams that had come to take place even during the day. Dreams that had turned into visions, visions of pain and suffering, but also of happiness and bliss, and Wocnam was ever more often dragged into a state of trance where he saw nothing but two very distinct visions for the young female Tauren – a Taureness that he still did not know the name of, but he most clearly had begun to have feelings for – strange feelings, feelings of wanting her to have the best, and definitely knowing that he did not want her to experience the harms he envisioned for her, should she set out to complete the task set before her.

Wocnam had sought the advise of the Elders in Mulgore, and he had had help communicating with the Spirits and clear thoughts with the Earthmother. She taught him to see straight into people and see their name – because this was the only way for him to accomplish the task that he had taken upon himself – to seek out this young Taureness and take the task for her, to complete her task and in that way ensure that she would be able to get the happiness that she deserved.

As he travelled the paths and plains of Mulgore seeking this Taureness he finally found her – Llubehs. A strong and beautiful Taurenes with many inner daemons that she needed to fight – in order to find the peace she deserved. Wocnam sought her out and won her heart – and took upon his shoulders to complete the tasks that had been given to her – so that she would have the peace she deserved.

And so it came that Wocnam took upon his shoulders to fulfil Llubehs tasks – amongst these her commitment to the Ariscara.

He still travels seeking to interpret the visions he has in order to complete the tasks given to her – as well as those laid out before him self.

Ishiguro, Tauren Druid.

Ishiguro, son of Inoshiro and Tamar Earthensong. His life and the tracks his hooves have left in their passing over the great plains have been shaped most by the teachings of his father, the hunter Inoshiro, and his mother Tamar, one knowledgeable of the history and beauty of the plants of the earth.

His clan is a small clan, yet one much respected by the Tauren of Bloodhoof. As a young Tauren, his father would bring him to the great hunts, strapped tight to his back in a leather harness as he hunted the great beasts of our lands. His earliest memories are of the glint of his fathers skinning blade, the neatly folded leathers placed aside him on the rich earth of his home, and of the vibrancy and colour of the blood left on the plains by the great hunts of our people.

As Ishiguro grew into adolescence, his father began to bring him to the smaller, isolated skirmishes between Tauren and Kolkar. He was taught how to use a staff to end their rampage over the land and in time learned to wield it with skill.

As each passing year would draw to a close his father would set aside the hides they could not use to offer to the Tauren of Bloodhoof. This talent with the skinning blade was not passed on to Ishiguro, his father wished him to learn knowledge of the lands from the elder druids, rather than take the path of the hunter. His training brought him skill in gathering the herbs of the land, and later as an alchemist, making use of the medicine plants of the plains. Despite his years of druidic learning, he feels that all the core of his learning comes from his parents. The hoof that gathers herbs from the earth is guided by his mother's spirit, and the hoof that holds the staff in hunting is guided swift to its prey by his father's given knowledge.

It is not something that is shared with many; the telling brings pain and sorrow. As a young Tauren, Ishiguro found his father dead, on a quiet evening in the mountains of our lands. He had been killed by a band of Kolkar while heavily laden with hides. There is nothing more to tell of this, here. His clan suffered less than many, in those times, and his mother lives, alone, not having sought another after his father's death, in a calm and simple place in the high reaches of Mulgore.

A quiet Tauren, a great joy swells within his spirit when he is at one with the land. His is a desire to bring balance to the world, of knowing the place for the hunt as well as the place for creating, and bringing forth new life, of taking the bounty of the earth, and of passing into the earth once more with age. He finds himself most comfortable in challenging hunting, with prey that may leave a gash or two upon his flesh. He wishes to see much of the earth, and travel far across its surface. At rest, the return to his homelands brings his hooves relief, and the taste of Mulgore Spice bread from Bloodhoof village is like none other.

He joined the Ari Scara as a young Tauren druid, brought into the fold of the Spirit Wolf by one whose own spirit shines brightly with the strength and untamed nobility most fitting in a Taureness. In hunting alongside her she offered him a place in the ranks of the Ari Scara. He does not know where his hooves will take him next, yet each day brings new sights, new hunting, and this, among other things, pleases him greatly. His learning as a druid has brought him the forms of the bear, the cat, and of the cheetah, and his talents and knowledge grow greater each day.

He feels glad to have found other Tauren, other horde, to join with, and hopes he will make the Ari Scara glad of his presence. He will be alongside them in their hunting, and also in their times of rest.

Shakul Urthadar Traitor

Marek Dagarkin was a knight when he was alive, once when he was sent out to fight the horde, his group fled from the battle, and left him alone to be killed by the orcs, before his death he promised that he would have his revenge on those who betrayed him. That is all that he remembers from when he was alive. When he woke up as a forsaken, he was full of hatred, hatred for the humans and all of their allies. When he left the grave, and saw the ruins of Lordaeron, he soon learned that this was the work of the scourge, this was the time that the hatred of the scourge struck him, and it felt like he was burning up inside. He had two goals he had to accomplish, the first was to kill all humans and the second was to destroy the scourge. He wanted to forget his old life, and chose to live under the name of Shakul Urthadar. He felt that he was two persons and referred to himself that way.

He fled from Lordaeron to Durotar, he entered Orgrimmar to see the local warrior trainer, but the trainer drew his sword because he thought that it Shakul was a member of the scourge, so he had to run, he ran down into The Cleft of Shadows and hid himself, only one person saw him, Ormok, he asked why he was hiding, Shakul told him everything, Ormok asked if he would join the rogues, and Shakul did, he was trained personally by Ormok, because no one trusted him, after his training he was told that he should go to The Valley of Trials to test himself. Shakul sneaked around in Orgrimmar, where he saw the wolf riding instructor and the wolf master, he asked them how much a wolf and training would cost, but they said that they would only help orcs and those who proved to them, that they were worthy of a wolf, so Shakul decided, that he wanted to prove himself worthy of a wolf.

When he was done in Orgrimmar, he went to The Valley of Trials, here he proved to the orcs and trolls that he was ready to get out in the world. He was sent to Sen’jin Village, where he helped them against Zalazane and his trolls. When he was sent further on his way to Razor Hill, he met an orc who told him that if he really wanted to prove worthy to the warchief he needed a guild, he learned that if he wanted to know different guilds and their ways of serving the horde he had to go to Orgrimmar, he was also taught how to use the soul stone to contact other people. He wasn’t happy about going back to Orgrimmar, but he had to if he wanted the orcs to trust him. He used three days studying guilds, and he learned of Ari Scara

Safran the Feral

The story of Safran ...is a story of suffering. Her mother, Myev was stolen from her clan by the ruthless orc by the name of Gragath the Exiled. He was a warlock of some power and was utterly corrupted by the darkness from the other world. Gragath despised women and abused Myev and others in his self made harem. All the women children his flock gave birth to, were thrown to the wolves since Gragath only wanted male children. When it came to Safran's turn an old wolf female for some reason took her under her wing and protected Safran from the others in the wolf pack. Perhaps it was that the old wolf had lost her litter just recently or perhaps it was something else that saved Safran's life from the fate her sisters had suffered in years past. Nonetheless the old wolf took Safran into the mountains and took care of her like she was her own cub.

Safran later learned that a contingent of Thrall's army had smashed the coven, her father ruled over, several years after Safran had left, and they had killed everybody for the taint they all carried. Gragath's body was never recovered.

So Safran grew up in the mountains along the wolves and when she was able to, took her own place in the pack. She only realized that she was a different kind of wolf, deformed at best. So for a few years she moved with the pack, avoiding all contact with others of her race until a fateful day came when a group of hunters from an orcish village caught her. At first they were puzzled by this half-orc half-wolf creature and were resolute at slaying her. The village elders were puzzled with what to do and locked her in a cage. Her case was not helped by the baying of wolves heard from all around the village. However come morning, fate was fortunate for Safran for the second time and a passing druid was able to communicate with Safran and she was able to relate parts of her tale.

The druid Morein, took Safran under his care, and to the relief of the villagers, took her back to his hut in the wilderness. There he was slowly able to break through Safran's defences and convince her that she was indeed an orc and not a wolf. The druid was able to divine her past from benign animal spirits, and she learned much she had lost. Things seemed to be on the rise for Safran.

However this was not to last as a group of human paladins slew the peace loving druid Morein and Safran barely escaped with her life. She was once again tossed into the world. This time armed with the knowledge of her origins she started making her way towards Durotar and found herself in the Valley of Trials.

The orc trainers did not seem to mind the fierce orcish woman and recognized the warrior within her. The training was hard but rewarding and Safran truly blossomed in that valley. She left the valley after they had nothing more to teach her. Even though the road ahead taught her much in the ways of battle she still yearned for the closeness of the wolf pack.

First she heard whispers of some who also felt the wolf spirit. She travelled far and wide to discover whether these rumours held any truth. Always alone, always searching for a home. Until one day she heard the name Ari Scara, and the name Cajuungumbo...

Shaman Shmee

Shmee did not live like the rest of the Tauren do now a day, when he was young he left to find a new life in the world of Kalimdor, never to long in one place at a time. Travelling from one place too a new one. Did like too meet new people, but did not stay long. Now a day he walks in the snowy fields of Winterspring where the land is good. Most of what he knows is from the people he meet on the road, one time he was in need of help and did get it from a great Priestess, he was in need of the help too over come a great foe, and with the help of the Priestess he did win the fight, after the fight they talked, the undead was nothing like the forsaken he had met on the eastern kingdom, her name was Elizabetha. They did not meet that much afterwards, but when they did, they talked.

He was happy in Winterspring where he is most of the time, hunting and living of the land. But he some times travels to Ogrimmar to sell the things he has found and made in Winterspring.

As a young Tauren he did travel all over the world but never did see any of the "cows" or "bulls" people say that the Tauren look like, so he doesn’t like to be called bullman.

As a young Tauren he cared little for the orcish language and is not one of the best at it, but after many years on the road he has picked up enough to speak the language.

He likes to help where he can, and don't say no when people ask for help.

Well he doesn’t give gold to people.

But if you are up north in Winterspring you may just run in to him.

Baramurth Plaitmuzzle, Tauren Shaman and Engineer of Ari Scara

Baramurth Plaitmuzzle grew up in Camp Narache, Southern Mulgore. His father, Barathram, is a totem-crafter of long tradition, and his mother, Hillon-Minnea, is a druid. Barathrum spent his childhood with his brethren and his many brothers and sisters out in the green fields of Red Cloud Mesa. His parents taught him the ways, beauty and flow of the nature; each detail, each passing moment a miraculous creation of the Earth Mother. He was also taught the skills of crafting and doing by hand, and he understood the importance of Taurens, both as a race and as individuals, their irreplaceable role as instruments of the Earth Mother.

Soon after his teens, with his career as a totem-crafter ahead of him, following a long family tradition, he caught the attention of Meela Dawnstrider, the shaman of Camp Narache. The shaman offered to take Baramurth as her pupil for a test period of time. Baramurth's parents were honoured by such a rare opportunity and so began Baramurth's years following the paths of the spirits. After his successful test period he was given the option to move to Bloodhoof Village and study the shamanic ways under the guidance of Mull Thunderhorn, an elder Tauren shaman. Reluctant to leave his family, but determined to pursue the will of the spirits, Baramurth accepted.
Baramurth's training went as well as Meela Dawnstrider had predicted, and after a few years' training Mull Thunderhorn sent him on a perilous journey: he was to seek the legendary Shrine of the Dormant Flame in Durotar. He was to cross the sun-tanned lands of the Barrens as well as the mighty Southfury River. So Baramurth set off. After many a predicament he finally arrived half-way his journey, to Crossroads -- only to find the Horde encampment under siege and heavily mauled by an armada of Night Elves. Every story his mother had told him about the valiance and nobility of the Night Elves shattered in those moments of horror he watched Crossroads burn. Despite his efforts to use his magicks of a shaman apprentice to aid his fellow orcs and trolls to battle the Elf pestilence, he could do no more but watch the allies of his brothers’ fall, lifeless, blood flowing to the cracks of the arid ground.

Badly wounded, Baramurth managed to get safe to the Crossroads inn -- one of the few buildings left intact and not in flames. But the Elven forces pressed on. Just when everything seemed lost, there was the distant boom of Horde battle horns -- reinforcements from Orgrimmar! A legion of orcs mounted on wolves flowed over Crossroads like a flooding river and drove the now scattered Night Elves back North to the magical forests of Ashenvale.

Since then, Baramurth has advanced further in his shamanic studies as well as developed his engineering skills that grant him a way to channel what he learned of making objects from his father. His hatred towards the Night Elves has even mildly lessened as he was truly impressed by the grace and honour with which a group of Night Elves attained the wedding of the Taurens Meda and Ishiguro in Mulgore.

Baramurth befriended with priestess Elizabetha, mage Annabel and several other members of Ari Scara, and soon found himself a part of the big family of the great Wolf Spirit.

Baramurth has strived to do his very best to serve the Horde; he has fought in the lines of Sylvanas in Silverpine Forest as well as battled the Alliance in Westfall, and awed at the beauty of the Earth Mother's creations like the gracious stone formations in the canyon of the Thousand Needles. Any extra coins he earns -- be it adventuring, designing new things, or otherwise -- he sends by post to his family in Camp Narache.

Sometimes a longing for the more peaceful days in Mulgore fill his heart, and he hopes for the wars to end to be able to return to Mulgore, settle down and establish a family... But first the wars must be won, and peace must be won. Until that day, Barathrum has vowed to follow the paths of Ari Scara and go with his new family.

Telthor - an undead warrior born in Stormwind Castle, reborn in Deathknell.

In life he was raised amongst the finest of people, his parents being extremely wealthy. They where one of the many noble families in Stormwind, which gave Varg (Telthor's name in life) the opportunity for a good childhood - or so it seemed...

Many years of his childhood he was overlooked by his arrogant parents, resulting in a dire need for attention the only one who had time for Varg was his uncle, an old hunter living alone in a cabin, somewhere in Elwynn Forest. His name was Telthor Ett´Drera, a true protector of the woods, hunting for food and surviving in the harsh nature, he was Vargs idol. In his teens, Varg secretly snuck out of the manor at night, to meet up with his uncle, who learned him the technique of how to master a sword, how to act in battle-situations, how to survive, and other useful things that would serve Varg well in life. He also told Varg the sinister history of his family, the story of how Telthor was coldly abandoned by his own family because he was different, because he liked to fight, because he liked nature. The Ett´Drera family never went outside the walls of Stormwind they stayed inside in safety. Away from the monsters, away from the poor people, away from all danger. Because Telthor was very much against this state of arrogance, he was banished from the manor, forced to survive in the nature in solitude, until Varg came. Varg and Telthor where having a great time together, and Varg enjoyed every second. He too, build up a certain form of hate towards his family (just as Telthor did in his teens), and started to get more and more rebellious at home.

The Ett´Drera family investigated this behaviour, and soon found out about the secret meetings between Telthor and Varg. This had to be stopped, and one night where Varg went to visit his uncle, he found his lifeless corpse lying on the ground, cut-wounds scattered across his body. Varg was shocked and wept the whole night in sorrow and darkness. The cut-wounds weren’t caused by any beast or animal Varg saw that it was the work of swords. Telthor would never loose against a beast from the woods, and bandits where never seen in those parts of Elwynn so it had to be his family, his hated family.

Varg rushed home in fury, sword in hand, and let the bloodbath begin. The guards of the house where slain by Varg’s sword, the guests of the house where slain by Varg’s sword, even his own family (including his parents) where slain by Varg’s sword many that night fell under Varg’s rage, and the next day it continued. And the next day again three days of slaughter went, where after it finally ended. Varg had killed extremely many and realised, that he would be punished and killed, if he stayed in town. Therefore he packed a backpack, with food, with survival-kits, and other useful items. He travelled outside Stormwind, far up north, until the one day, where Varg’s path came to an end. One single wolf killed him but this couldn’t be a normal wolf. Varg had killed many wolves before, but this one was bigger and fiercer than ever seen before. It took on Varg with one single bite...

Varg arose again taking the name of his late uncle: Telthor. A Telthor is a spirit protecting the nature, and so will Telthor continue in the future with his new and better family Ari Scara, eternal hails to Ari Scara!!!

Zach of Narache

The Story of Zach is a story of three brothers named Kakii, Makih and of course Zach. The three brothers spend their childhood in a peacefully camp called Narache. Makih who was the oldest brother had joined the camp’s militia, and his parents Mika and Hazu Lonehoof were so proud. They wanted Zach to join the militia as well, but Zach was not born to be a warrior like his brother, even Kakii the youngest of the three, had the warrior spirit. As the time went by and Zach got older, he went to the local Shaman teacher to seek knowledge in the ways of the elementals. Though Zach got stronger in the ways of the elementals, he kept training his combat abilities with his brothers, even Kakii was better in melee attacks than Zach. But one day it happened that the tribe of Darkcloud raided the little camp. The camps militia were fighting bravely, Zach and Kakii was watching their brother fight, in a range of safety. Makih was slaying many enemies, but the enemies kept coming, if it hadn’t been for Zach, who jumped in and healed him, he would have been dead. But so they jumped Zach as well, Makih saw that and tried fighting his way to his brother, but suddenly he was surrounded by enemies, and so he disappeared in the crowd. Zach was blocking the enemies’ blows with his shield, but as the enemies number increased, Zach couldn’t hold them out. On a split second Zach fell to the ground with massive wounds, he even got his right horn chopped off. Zach’s vision began to fate, as he saw an enemy raise his sword to give Zach the finally killing blow, but just then the reinforcement from Thunderbluff had arrived and the enemies were fleeing like animals…

Many had died in this massive battle, and so there were held a huge funeral that lasted three days, to honour those who had fallen. Makih was nowhere to be found not even his corpse were found, so it was declared that he was assumed dead. But Zach couldn’t accept that his brother was “assumed dead”. Zach was now aged, and he began his adventure in search of his brother. But fast Zach realised that it required money and food to adventure, so he start helping people with quests, In return he got money and food even weapons and armour. Zach got company from many friends and even his younger brother Kakii. As Zach travelled around he saw many different places, and made many new friends…

And so it happened that Zach’s adventures started, with out knowing one of these adventures would lead him into the might of a glorious brotherhood, Ari Scara.

As Zach was helping an old friend to find his lost see-booster in the mist of Dustswallow Marsh, he suddenly ran into an unconscious Orc Warlock, and it appeared that this Orc had some strange markings on his chest. When Zach has helped the Orc out of his sleep, the Orc seemed very confused, but still he could remember his name, Kaldor. But after sometimes of talking, an entire Horde group arrived. The group was a search group, but they were not searching for a See-booster like Zach, they were looking for Kaldor. They all seemed happy to get united once again, but after the reunion they suddenly start asking Zach about the finding. Zach tried the best he could to remember what exactly happened, and when he mentioned the markings, everybody looked at Kaldor. They seemed worry about the markings, when they wouldn’t come off. The leader of the group, Meda, insisted that they should bring Kaldor and Zach to the Lupus.

On the way back to The Crossroads, Zach asked several times who this Lupus was, but with out a useful answer. Zach asked Kaldor about different things on the way back, but Kaldor couldn’t remember much.

When they arrived to The Crossroads, Zach was confronted with The Lupus, who turned out to be a Mighty Shaman named Cajuungumbo. Most of a big brotherhood was talking about what to do with the markings when Elmonk, a wise Warlock stood up and explained that the markings were indicating a blood pact. After this The Lupus used his powers to get Kaldors memory back, but suddenly Kaldor ran off. He was soon found though. Kaldor told us that he had seen a face in the mists, and that face looked like Safran. The blood pact turned out to be with an evil Warlord of the Burning Legion, but sadly also Safrans farther.

Safran told us the story about her childhood and her farther, which was a very sad story. We talked long about what to do about this threat. As the meeting started to end they told Zach and a young warrior, what the guild was and what they did. After the meeting Zach had collected courage to ask Lupus, if he could join this Brotherhood of Wolfs. The Lupus decided that if was to be Kaldor who should invite Zach, when it was Zach who helped him in the mists.

And so it is that Zach had made many friends and even joined a new brotherhood and he was yet again ready for another adventure…

Nar the Seeker

Nar sits thinking over the recent events with the Ari Scara, Of friends made and aid both given and received. Slowly his glazed eyes clear and he razes his head and looks around at those gathered for a quiet drink and to watch the sun set over the Barrens.
"I consider myself lucky to be with you my friends."
"For those of you that wish to listen I will tell my story."
He shifts himself into a more comfortable position before he starts his tale.
" I wish I could start at the beginning but I can not. Not because I do not wish to tell but because I do not know my own beginning. My first memories are off a kindly old Tauren couple tending to me in a place I had not seen before."
A broad smile appears on his face at the memories of the old couple. At the same time he wipes a small tear from the corner of his eye.
He clears his throat quietly and continues " They told me that they had come across me washed up upon the shores of Durotar somewhere near Sen'Jin Village whilst on a last trip to see the sights and beauties of the land."
"They were, a long time ago, both great Druids and protectors of the land and taught me much of the importance of respect and set me on the path to becoming a druid and herbalist."
"I spent much time learning and exploring the land around my new home in the barrens. All was new to me though hints of skills I had known before came through. Some skills I learnt far faster than should have been possible. It was this that lead my adopted parents to try to return the memories of my past to me."
"They called upon their collective knowledge and skills to do everything they could to help me. They spent days locked in thought and frequently brought me in to try again."
He stops to pull a drink from his pack and wet his dry throat and there is a short pause.
"Nothing they did worked and they gave up. Joking that I was stubborn for one so young. A few days later I heard an argument from the hut we called home and as I approached my father came out to get me. He told me they had found a way to restore my memory to me, that it would be a long process but I was not to worry and all would be fine."
"He took me inside, quickly silencing my questions about the argument, and they began. From the start I was in a daze and time seemed to slow. They called upon the earth mother to aid me, to heal me and to make me whole once more. Just as it felt like something was happening and a glimmer of hope came to me that I would know who I was at last the door slammed shut again in my mind and my father collapsed in front of me unmoving."
There is another, slightly longer pause before he continues.
"My mother let out a gasp and fell to her knees, unable to continue alone and failing to accept the reality that was coming upon her. She crawled over and took my fathers head in her lap. I was stuck, unable to move, unable to help staring helplessly at them."
A blank expression covers his face now. Masking the grief still felt.
"A breath escaped the lips of my father and his eyes opened slightly. My mother obviously exhausted jumped at the sound and as quickly as she was able tried to heal him. I could see what little energy left flow into my father and he seemed to recover slightly. That was the scene as I lost consciousness, still unable to help."
"I do not know how long I was unconscious for but when I awoke my father was sat against the wall cradling my mother and crying. I struggled to my feet feeling weak and confused and went to my parents. My mother was cold to touch and I could get no sense from my father."
"Finally I managed to get him to rest but he refused all nourishment. For three days I saw him fade and nothing I could do helped him. I cursed my inability to help and inside I already mourned his loss along with my mother."
"He passed away without making a sound all will to live gone with his wife. I sent them both back to the earth mother on their last journey and prayed that they would find happiness together once more."
"In a daze I gathered a few of my things and walked out into the cool evening air. I travelled for several days unsure of my destination and found myself come to a much greener land to the west. Shortly after I came into a settlement called Bloodhoof. The guards there took pity on me. They fed and clothed me and sent me to Red Cloud Mesa where I could be cared for."
"I was silent and despondent for a long time after reaching my new home. It took much time and patience from those set the task of taking care of me to bring me back to the world."
He takes a small mouthful more of his drink and continues anew slightly faster as if in a hurry to come to the end of the tale.
"I slowly recovered my strength and my voice until it was decided I was strong enough o continue with the training started by my parents. So I was taken in by the Druid and I gratefully began learning all I could so that I could go forth and stop other people from going through what I had been through."
"And there you have it, I went out and travelled Mulgore and rediscovered the Barrens. It was there, defending the crossroads against the alliance, healing those I could and mourning those I could not that I first met Shakul. And he showed me the kindness to bring me to the pack. To my new friends."
And with the concluding of his tale Nar slowly and shakily stands before walking out into the night. In search of something to bring back his lost memories, for himself and for the memory of his foster parents.

Tokaar

Tokaar son of Nokhaar Tokaar a Tauren druid that once lived in the great forests of Ashenvale under the protection of the cenarion circle with his father, Nokhaar a great and wise druid and his mother, Demaah, a shaman that had learned in many years about the ways of the alchemist and herbalist and most often used to make the minor healing potions for hers beloved son Tokaar, when he got wounds when he was out playing with the critters and beasts of nature. Everything was perfect, nothing did disturb the peace, not even the elves of Ashenvale, it was just Tokaar , Nokhaar , Demaah and the nature of the land.
But... The day when the family celebrated Tokaars 14 th birthday the horrible news of the Burning Legions invasion on Azerotht whispered trough the wind to Nokhaar.
Nokhaar and Demaah had decided to not enter this war until it was necessary, but when they heard about the battle, that was about to come forth around the tree of life, they couldn’t do nothing else than join the battle. Tokaars parents sent him south of Ashenvale, to the great plains of Mulgore where he would be safe during this war.
During the travel to Mulgore Tokaar was on his own as his parents couldn’t send anyone to protect him since every druid and Tauren was about to defend the tree of life. He where have to stay one night in the barrens but was very scared, The prowlers of the Barrens where hungry and the kodos maybe even wouldn’t see young Tokaar and just walk over him. Next day Tokaar hurried to Mulgore as the last night had been horrific. He got in to a battle against a ferocious raptor but a friendly troll named Treem’a got in to the fight and defeated the raptor.
Ever since that day Tokaar and Treem’a where the best of friends. Some time after the meeting, Treem’a got infected with a strange illness, which wore him down in the end took his life.
Some say it was because of Voodoo, Other said it was because of the plague from the east, But Tokaar him self thought it was a tainted sickness from the Burning Legion. After that Tokaar left the Barrens at least but just to enter it some time after..
Word reached Tokaars, when he first arrived to Mulgore, the terrible news of his parents death under the blade of the Burning Legion. But at least the Burning Legion had been defeated and the great war of Azeroth’s faith was ended, but just to be started later on between two other factions...
It was from this day he sworn a pact , by his parents death , that if he ever saw any agent , servant or even member of the Burning Legion , he would do anything , to turn ‘’ Man ‘’ back from the darkness or slay this man who ever it might be, as fast as he could ...
The years past and now Tokaar had became 18 years old. Under these 4 years Tokaar had learned the basics of the druid, Alchemist and the herbalist just like his parents.
And when he felt his training was complete he decided to join the great hunt for becoming a true member of the tribe and a wise druid of the cenarion circle.
And so his skills, spells and knowledge developed and expanded after hunting down Kodos, slaying members of the Venrure Company and was sent to Cairne Bloodhoof himself that told him that it was an honour to send Tokaar on a mission that would take him to the great dessert, The Barrens..
But just some time before this was about to happen, he met Azabondia a great druid of the healing hands on his 60 th birthday near stonebull lake , there Azabondia accepted him into the healing hands a great tribe of druids , priests , and all other classes of Azeroth.
But then one day, the leader of the Healing hands told him dire news, it appeared that Tokaar was too young for this tribe and that he had to mature before they could accept him.
Now, Tokaar was lonely and was thinking about to take rest in Ashenvale and end his adventure in becoming a great and wise druid.
But when he was going to report to an Orc Recruiter in the Crossroads he saw a great meeting, that of the Ari Scara.
There he whispered to Zach a member of the pack if he could join this great tribe.
After Tokaars bidding to Zach, He spoke to Alpharal Ghazkull and Tokaar got accepted to the Pack of the Ari Scara and got many new friends like Ghazkull, Zach , Ebonfur , Ishiguro , Safran , Nar, Emongolus , Meda , and Shakul.
And it was how Tokaars real life really got started and how he really got accepted to the great pack of Ari Scara...

Amunet "Pathfinder"

Amunet grew up in a large family in the safe plains of Mulgore. Her parents were hunters, as were her great-grand parents, great-great-grand parents and generations before. Living of the land and respecting all Earth Mother’s creations was not something that was learned, it was inherited. Although the family was large, it was very rare many were at their little home in the hills at the same time. For as the whole family sought to live of the lands, explore all that the Earth Mother had to give they also had an indefinable urge to travel. Amunet’s parents, Borhk and Leleita, often were away traveling, sometimes alone, sometimes taking some of the children to teach them the ways of the land. Just like her many brothers and sisters Amunet roamed the plains as well, either alone or with the company of a family member. Life was peaceful and war was not known.

However, the family was concerned for little Amunet, for she was a little different then the others. She had not inherited the great tracking skills of the family, considered utterly important for a hunter. Amunet could be lost for days, only to find out she had circling around the same area the whole time. It seemed, little Amunet was interested in everything and did have a specific goal but would just follow what at the time would seem most interesting. Although the family was concerned, Amunet’s lack of fear, courage and determination always returned her home.

At the age of 13 Amunet left her home to explore Azeroth and everything that the Earth Mother had created. Knowing no war, just the peace and quiet of her solitude or the company of her family she was shocked to learn the harsh times that were torturing the land, she learned of betrayal, death, loss, enemies and allies, yet her faith in the Earth Mother never left her. Although she did not understand the concept of war Amunet decided she would do anything to protect the Earth Mother and all her creations. Giving in to her inherited longing to travel, explore, to learn and seek she set out into Azeroth.

On a fine day, some years later, Amunet set out to see her family and old home again. Arriving in Mulgore, she learned of a wedding between Meda and Ishiguro, members of the Ari Scara pack of whom she had heard many stories already. Intrigued by this thing called love and by the stories she had heard of great warriors and leaders that would be gathered at the wedding she set out to Bloodhoof Village. Here she witnessed a beautiful ceremony and was overjoyed when she was asked to join the pack, for she knew there was a whole lot she could learn of them. And although she loved to roam Kalimdor alone, she had missed the company of brothers and sisters, which she now had found again.

Nariathley Ma'uinna, knows as Naria

Flashbacks from Naria’s past

Lost in her thoughts, she was rubbing the tender skin of her hands. With her finger, she followed the line where the healthy and damaged skin meets others. It was not the first time she burned her hands when trying to repeat the magic tricks of Jacia; to be more specific, she failed constantly, but refused to give up.
"Me be gettin' rap for this", she mutters with an aching feeling,
"but yet me will...".
She opened her bag and put out an herb scroll made by her mother. She grits her teeth while she smeared her wounds with the mixture. The mixture was hurting, but also gave a powerful feeling of heat and Naria led down on the sand looking at the cloudless sky that opens over her. "Yet me will show dem all!", she though, closed her eyes and let her thoughts fly on.
* * *
"Papa!", Ananta and Neelam were shouting from one mouth while running to village. "Papa, where ya be?!", they continued gaspingly and arrived to the middle of the village where Chitzo used to tell stories to his children and youngsters of the village.
"Papa, papa!", Ananta continued while Neelam takes a breath in her father's arms, "we be hearin' dat Yoc be missin' from da other on da woods and they been trackin' Yoc for hours!". Father quickly picked himself up still holding Neelam, he looked at her daughter and gave her to Naria. Then he took couple steps forward looking at the youngsters and when he noticed Tamquidel, he beckoned to him and they both run to home to get their hunting equipments. Without wasting a time they run to the north, to the direction where the boys of the village have gone to practise their hunting skills.
* * *
Naria laced up her new dress while Chitzo handed another same kind of dress to Zharisa. "Dese be nah da same kinda of dresse ya be used ta wear", Chitzo said and continued: "Dese be harda, but nah ta protecti ya from all da dangees, so ya muste be extreem kaarful and look afta others".
Zharisa put her dress on little reluctantly and mutters something about that her old dress was much prettier on her. Naria grinned to her sister and helped to lace up her dress.
"More far ya traveel, more dangeer da road be. Dat me be knoowin where ya be and how ya do, me wanna, dat ya visit here often and ya mail ta me if ya be knoowin anythin of yas brothers", Chitzo continued and gave sharp look to sisters,
"Me pray and hope me be nah loosin ya too".
Naria crabbed the hands of her old father, looked him to his eyes and said,
"Father, me be promisin' dat me be lookin' after Zharisa and me be sure she be lookin' after me too, even though there be no necessity",
Naria grinned and continued,
"but we be promisin' to inform ya when we have a change, even then when we have nothin' to tell". Naria hugged her father and took her backpack and staff. Chitzo also hugged Zharisa and said, "ya taak good kaar of yaself and sis, may da spirits guide yas path".
Sisters said goodbye to rest of their siblings and walked to the northern side of the village where Rocktoe was waiting for them.
* * *
"Naria?", Zharisa asked at one night at the inn of Crossroads, "Ya sleepin sis?".
Naria turned at her bed and mutters something what makes Zharisa come to a conclusion that her sister was awake.
"Me be fond of one troll and decided to follow my heart",
Zharisa continued and stroke a sleeping kitten who was purring next to her.
"So, when followin my heart, me cant be at your side all da time", Zharisa babbles,
"Any way, we could look brothers from different directions and keep this inn at our base, like another home".
Naria tightened her blanket and mutters behind her sleep, What ever sis, what ever".
* * *
"Aye there! I couldn't miss seeing your fighting against there aggravating hyenas", said the orc who was following Naria's and Rocktoe's actions while standing next to the road. The orc continues
"have just established a new guild that would need members like you two. Would you like to join us?".
Naria looked at her husband and returned her eyes to orc, "Yes, lord.. ?".
"Gutlag, my name is Gutlag and the name of our guild is Deathstalkers. Our purpose is to support Thrall and help Horde any way we can. Are you interested?",
Gutlag continued with fast tempo. Naria at looked her husband again who was raising his shoulders. Rocktoe was not a very talkative troll and Naria knew that she could make the decision for both of them.
"Well yes mon, we could join ya. Me be Nariathley Ma'uinna, rather knows as Naria, and this be my husband Rocktoe", Naria beckoned.
"Yes, we will join ya. It be needin' safeness around and surely we be willin' to help Horde at any way we can", Naria continued.
"Good!", Gutlag shouted, "I'm a little hurry right now, but I will contact you later at the evening. Welcome to the Deathstalkers!".
Gutlag waved his goodbye to the couple and continued his journey to Crossroads. Once again, Naria looked her husband and they carried on killing hyenas, waiting for Gutlag's contact.
* * *
In the inn of Crossroads the wave of the agony was torturing the sleep of Naria and she was turning around constantly at her bed. Dark clouds and red flashes were taken her firstly so peaceful dream. They kept her tight and make her hard to breath.

She woke up of innkeepers strong shaking and noticed gaze of many wanderers. Her clothes were wet of her sweat and she was puffing, "somethin' be wrong", she though and let her eye wander around the inn. Innkeeper changed cold bandage to her forehead and gave her a warm smile. "somethin' be wrong", the message was repeating in her head. She tried to sit with help of others and looked at the bed next to hers.
"Rocktoe! Where be Rocktoe!".
* * *
"Me be havin' a question", Naria announced at the meeting of Deathstalkers. None seemed to react and they continued their conversation of issue what Naria finds to be unimportant. Conversation continued and continued until Gutlag asked if anyone has anything in their mind. "Me be havin' a question", Naria announced, but again none listens her and they continued their chatting, dancing and drinking.
They all moved to upstairs and continued their meeting, talking about things Naria still finds to be less important. Once again Gutlag asked if someone wants to talk about something.
"Me be havin' a question!", Naria announced firmly and still none seemed to listen her,
“Cant they hear me?”. In a minute Gutlag informed that the meeting is over else someone has anything important to say. Naria stood up, left others to have their fun, continued to downstairs and headed to Ratchet. She felt herself a very outsider.
Day or two after, Naria found herself at Orgrimmar reading the guild poster which tells about Ari Scara. She remembers that she have heard about that pack before and decided to take contact to one of their members, to Ishiguro. They talked some time and Naria told him hers wish to be one of the wolves.

Heirn

I am Heirn, son of Aimen and Gran of the Leafhoof tribe. My earliest memories are of traveling, We never stopped anywhere for longer than a week. Our tribe was small and we relied on speed to avoid the centaur clans that had driven us away from our ancestral lands. I hated it. There seemed to be no place for us. We lived by hunting beasts and gathering edible or otherwise useful treats of Earthmother. What surplus we made, we usally traded for things that we couldnt make ourselves. My father was skilled tracker and my mother worked as a gatherer. When I was old enough, I was chosen as a gatherer. I was heartbroken at the time. I wanted so much to be a hunter like my father. To proudly walk into the camp after a hunting trip, tell exiting stories by the campfire at night...

Even after all the arguing I was still a gatherer. At first I was less than enthusiastic about my given profession but as season passed, I became quite good at finding herbs and later on, learned about their different properties and uses. My life contiuned like this for many turns of the seasons under Earthmothers two eyes. Then one time, when we were trading our goods in a settlement that is today known as Crossroads strange rumours of odd, fierce and green creatures from across the sea reached us. Apparently they had joined forces with Cairne Bloodhoof and his tribe and had driven the foul centaurs from the green plains of Mulgore! They might have been odd but they were honorable and strong! The whole Leafhoof tribe headed for Mulgore to confirm the rumours of gathering of the tauren tribes. The joy of having a land of our own was short lived. Something else also came from across the sea. A vast army of foul creatures that we at first could not belive to be allowed to exist by Earthmother. But the death and destruction they wrought was real enough and soon call to arms sounded across the plains. Most of the Leafhooves joined the army that we were forming with the orcs but some of our eldest were unable or unwilling to take part in this, too set in their ways I guess. They were left behind with others too old or too young to fight. My mother was among them. But the rest of us joined. My immature dreams of honour and glory were once more put down by a officer who was responsible for selecting people for different tasks in the "Horde" as I was told our newly formed army was called. I was not to be a warrior or a scout, I was assingned as a "auxiliary" to a large camp which would handle suppylying the main Horde war-group and take care of the wounded sent from the front lines. My knowledge of different herbs earned me a place as a healers assistant. I saw much blood and death during that time. Sometimes in my dreams I still hear the groaning and moaning of the wounded. You couldnt pick a single voice among the noise. It was the sound of a single huge creature, mindless wail of death and suffering. Finally the war was won. I dont need to go to details, everyone has heard the stories. After the war the remaining Leafhooves gathered together again. There werent many left. My mother and many others had gone to join the ancestors and my father had been badly wounded in the war. We swore allegiance to the Bloodhoof tribe and spent most part of the next years building our great tauren city of Thunder Bluff. I was part of a work group tasked with erecting the great lodge on a mesa that would become known as Elder Rise. Before the lodge was even completed a tauren named Hamuul Runetotem was teaching there. He spoke of upholding the balance and of a new way to serve and honor Earthmother. He spoke about the forgotten way of a druid. I was deeply moved by his words and pretty soon I spent more time listening to him teach than actually building the lodges on the mesa. Camp Narache was my next stop after that rudimentary druid training. And from there my travels started. I learned to use weapons to defend myself and participated in Great Hunt. I learned the art of alchemy so I could use the herbs and other Earthmothers gifts to make useful potions and mixtures. I walked alone for a long time occasionaly joining up with different groups to overcome chalanges that Earthmother placed in my path.

Then one night in the Barrens I heard the drums from Crossroads calling for help. The Alliance, as our allies from the past war called themselves, were brutally attacking! I answered the summons and joined in the defence. The battle seemed fierce and long but in the end, meant nothing. Then the messangers arrived. It had been a ruse to lure us away from their real target. Thunder Bluff was under attack! Cairn himself was their real target! Normally swift wyverns seemed to crawl foward in the air like moss crawls over a stone when I rushed to the defence of my capital. As soon as I landed I sought my father out. He works as a Bluffwatcher there and I found him where the battle was the fiercest, atop of the main mesa, right outside Cairnes lodge. I was not the only one who had answered, the mesa was packed with other races of the Horde. The attacking force was quickly and utterly crushed and their lifeless bodies thrown down from the top of the mesa. The day was ours! But I was still disgusted. What had they tried to achieve here?
When some of the defenders started to shout out for counter-attack, I retreated to the fringes of the crowd and left them to scheme their plans that would keep the vicious cirle of attack and counter-attack going. Here I met Ishiguro, a fellow druid who I had met earlier in the Moonglade. We talked and he told me of Ari Scara. I was facinated by his words and by the manner which he carried himself out and asked to know more of the Wolf Spirit and of the people who also followed its creed. He directed me to the guild poster so I could learn more and learn more I did! Since my former guild was experincing internal strife and had allready decayed badly, I was glad to accept the invitation to join Ari Scara.

I have walked far and wide under Eartmothers eyes, seen much and want to see even more. I hope to share my experiences, both good and bad, with other people in Ari Scara. I am looking foward to working with you all.
May Earthmother be with us!

Rynoe Narahe -Tauren Hunter

He awoke with the frightful images of the night in the cave upon him. It was the last time he had seen his brother Shearhorn, and the first time he had ingested the mushroom that would separate their lives for good. The Rites of The Earthmother had taken their toll on both, but Rynoe was weaker than his brother and the visions had been harsh. He was sure that they were real, and he was sure his brother was with him. If only it had been real, then the recurring nightmares would not have become such a part of this young Tauren’s life.

Shearhorn & Rynoe - Last Seen Together at the Cave of DreamsThey had left Camp Narache aged just 17. The Camp had remained their home for 2 years following the disappearance of their sister. They did not know whether she had left or whether she had been taken. They preferred to think the later as her free spirit had marked her upbringing and had she not been forced to become their carers they knew she would have left much earlier. Shearhorn, Rynoe and Kalissa’s parents had both been killed in the wars with the Centaurs, and Kalissa as the eldest had assumed all duties of care for the two young Taurens. Perhaps she could take no more?
And so Shearhorn and Rynoe headed out into Mulgore. In search of the sister they loved. Entering Bloodhoof Village their hearts raced. Perhaps Kalissa was here. Day after day they questioned and searched, but no sign was to be found of Kalissa. The boys grew in strength and knowledge, both extremely skilled in the way of the hunter. But the cave was the last time they saw each other. A letter from Shearhorn describing the Barrens was the last contact Rynoe received. He headed directly there not even stopping to collect supplies. The Barrens was a complete shock to Rynoe and he yearned to go back to Mulgore. The pull of his brother’s spirit drew him onwards. Arriving at the Crossroads he asked after Shearhorn and was taken under the wing of two extremely kind individuals, Naria and Abrom. They offered help and assistance in tracking down the missing brother. Their friendship grew despite the infrequency of their meetings, yet there was no sign of Shearhorn. Rynoe joined Abrom and Naria in their guild and finally felt that he was a part of something bigger than his immediate family. His search continued, but his heart was eased somewhat.
But the spirit of the young hunter was restless, and the guild he had relied upon in the early days had become more of a burden to him than his search for Shearhorn. He spoke to Naria and she kindly arranged for introductions to be made to the Ari Scara. “The spirit of the wolf is strong in this one”, pronounced the guild elders. In a short ceremony Naria and Rynoe burned his old guild tabard and he was invited to join…

Blackpearl’s history

On a beautiful day Wharfmaster Lozgil of Booty Bay found a little package, it was unattended and exceptionally wrapped. He was surprised because nothing happened on his wharf without him knowing of it. He waited and waited for someone to claim it, but when the sun went down, he gave up. It had been a long day and he was hungry, so he decided to go home and take the package with him.
Arrived at home, his wife Dizzydet asked him what he took with him. “Is that a gift for me???” Lozgil put the package on the table and then suddenly he heard some strange noises coming from it. He jumped up, because the package also started to budge. There was something inside and it was alive.
The curious Dizzydet opened it up and she found a little Taureness. Beside her were some herbs to keep her quiet and sleepy and there was a small envelope. Lozgil took the envelope and found a letter and a little black pearl. After reading he looked sad and picked up the little Taureness. “You’re mother and father can’t take care of you anymore… They are at war with the Centaurs and want you to be safe. We will take care of you!” Dizzydet took the letter, she wanted to read it herself. She broke into tears, because she felt the pain and sorrow. “Lozgil , we will keep this little baby and raise her with good character and teach her everything we know. We will call her Blackpearl, after the little valuable black pearl her parents left her.”
Years went by and Blackpearl learned to fish in the Sea. But she also wanted to hunt and make things of the leather she skinned, she loved the Earth. She could look at the Sky for days and feel the power of Fire by a watch fire, but she never understood why and where these feelings came from. Lozgil saw that Blackpearl had become a grown Taureness and decided it was time to tell her the truth about her parents and the way she was brought to Booty Bay. Blackpearl was sad for days but regained her Spirit and decided to travel to ThunderBluff, the city of Taurens. Lozgil gave her all the money he could miss and knew she would return. Blackpearl needed to know more about her roots and the things her people do, maybe she could even find her parents.
So she traveled by boat and Wyvern to the large capital of Taurens. With hope and Spirit she went to Cairn Bloodhoof to ask for her parents. Unfortunately a lot of Taurens took part in the war and he didn’t know of a couple who had given away a little baby. Blackpearl wandered around the rises and accidentally bumped into Siln. She looked familiar, but they had never met. Siln felt the same connection and asked Blackpearl to come closer. “What is your name? Are you new in town?” Blackpearl answered and told her name came from the little black pearl her parents left her. Siln bursted into tears, because Blackpearl’s mother used to be a very close friend of her. They sat and talked for hours. Siln told Blackpearl parents Sherada and Borgulous died in the war and didn’t want their baby to be part of hatred and violence. Blackpearl understood and was happy to have found someone who was related to her parents.
Siln suggested to do a little Shaman test with Blackpearl and she agreed. Siln thought she must have inherited some of the powers of her mother. Blackpearl passed the tetst and finally understood why she had a connection with the elements and Earth Mother.
Blackpearl became a Shaman apprentice, and now she knew what her roots were, she felt safe and happy. Although she knew Booty Bay was her home, she wanted to be with Taurens, Orcs and Trolls. And maybe even with the Undead, but would never forget what Lozgil and Dizzydet did for her. So she decided to travel and earn enough gold so Lozgil and Dizzydet could retire and buy the little house on the shore they always wanted.
Blackpearl trained and trained and sold a lot of things she made. One day she needed some elixirs and couldn’t buy them anywhere. She got a tip to ask for Ishiguro. That must have been her destiny, because a couple of days before she accidentally attended his wedding with Meda. She wrote him a letter and a few days later she received a package. She was amazed by the fact Ishiguro had done this for her. In Ogrimmar she bumped into him a couple of times and they talked about life in Mulgore and the War.
A couple of weeks later, she received a note from Ishiguro and Meda. They wanted to talk to her about something. Blackpearl was curious and went to see them. Ishiguro and Meda asked Blackpearl to join their Guild Ari Scara. Blackpearl was surprised and delighted, since she always wanted to be part of a Guild, a “familiy”. The Guild she was in at that time wasn’t much of a comfort, despite of Gosh, her fiancée. She had doubts, because she didn’t want to leave Gosh, but fortunately he gave his approval. She talked to her Guildmaster and announced her leaving. After that she contacted Ishiguro and told him she was free to join. They sat a little outside Crossroads and talked about the Wolf Spirit. Blackpearl knew she had the Wolf Spirit and wanted to be part of Ari Scara. She finally had found herself a family, a Pack.

Corendor

When he was alive, he was Corendor Meron. Tailor, husband to Karicia, father to Kirani.

The came the Blight. And the Scourge.

Corendor's last memories of life are standing in a doorway, fighting off Scourge, his wife and daughter hiding in a room behind him. He remembers, with painful clarity, the agony when his skull was bashed in by a war club. He died, already infected with Blight. The last thing he heard in life was the screaming of his family.

Corenor rose into undeath and later was freed from the grip of the Lich King along the rest of Forsaken. However, the damage suffered just before his death had caused his memories to shatter, and it took quite some time and skills of many apothecaries to restore them to the point he could function properly.
To this day, his memories remain a jumble - shattered, like pieces of a mirror. He writes these splinters of memories down in notebooks, trying to reconstruct whole memories from the debris of his mind.

Corendor left to find himself and his place in the world as well any trace of his wife and daughter. He hopes to find their graves, the thought of them being forced to exist in this un-living state, or worse, as Scourge, pains him.

Later, when he crossed over to Kalimdor, Corendor quickly noticed that even it has only been a few years from the last war, there were already warmongers among the Horde. Not seeing any point in useless conflicts that only cost lives and destroy property, Corendor kept to himself, shying away from the fools that think war is all there is. Then one day, while watching young Horde warriors duel amongst themselves at Crossroads, Corendor was talking to himself, commenting the pointlessness of such games and was surprised to hear an answer behind him.

The commentor was Cajuungumbo of the Ari Scara, who was waiting for other Ari Scarans to appear for a meeting. Corendor And Cajuungumbo chatted until the meeting started, during which Corendor listened carefully.

After researching Ari Scara and listening at few more of their meetings, Corendor was satisfied that he had found likeminded people he could ally himself with. He was accepted into the pack, and has not looked back since.

Ebonfur

Several years ago, the inhabitants of the world called Azeroth faced their latest war in a series of many great wars. This time, however, it would not be the old conflict of "Human versus Orc". This time, the free peoples of Azeroth united against a common enemy: the Burning Legion, a pack of powerful and warmongering demons that were not of this world; that came from somewhere beyond the great seas that borderd the landmasses of Azeroth - supposedly from a realm called the "Twisting Nether". The events of this last great war did not only shatter the face of the already scarred world of Azeroth; they also helped new alliances to form and new friendships to create - some of which lasted longer than others... One of the longerlasting friendships that where created those days is surely the bond of the noble Tauren race with that of the Orcs and Trolls, who together with the Forsaken are now known as "The Horde". When the armies of Azeroth united against the Legion and steel clashed against steel at the battle of Mount Hyjal, there where still many individuals in the world, who knew nothing about the epic conflict and lived in the relative peace of seclusion and unsuspectingness. One of these individuals was the Tauren boy Ebonfur Mountaincaller.

Ebonfur's family had heard vague rumors about the Tauren clans beginning to unite and even had heard about some green-skinned creatures their "leader" Cairne had befriended. Yet, Ebonfur's father, Ashenmane, who had always prefered seclusion over the crowded encampments of his kinsmen, had led his family to the mountains between Mulgore and Fearals more than a decade ago and he did not even dream of leaving his home and leading this new life of the "Horde", that he had heard about. Ashenmane, according to his own statement, had befriended the mountains as early as in his youth, and he had even changed his family's name to Mountaincaller many years ago - Ebonfur did not even know his father's original name. Ebonfur had not led a bad life: His parents cared well for him and his father had taught him many a thing about the mountains. Yet, the older Ebonfur grew, the more he craved to know more about the world beyond the borders of the familiy's den - a world his father had forbid him to explore. His only link to the outside world was Ebonfur's uncle Ivenhoof - Ashenmane's brother. Ivenhoof regularly travelled the Barrens and other areas of Kalimdor and to Ashenmane's disliking, Ivenhoof would regularly visit the Mountaincallers and then Ebonfur would sit upon a high mesa with his uncle deep into the night. The moon would shine upon the two Tauren and Ivenhoof would tell his nephew many stories about the lands he had travelled, the adventures he had overcome and the creatures and the people he had encountered.

Ashenmane knew that he could not keep his son from travelling with Ivenhoof forever, for Ebonfur grew in both strength and wisdom and the day would come when the aura of childhood would forever fade from his son. Yet, Ebonfur's bond to his family and home was stronger than his father suspected and the young Tauren lacked a true motive for travelling along with his uncle. Ebonfur, despite the many great stories he had heard about the world, actually liked the life of his mother and father and so the years went by and when the demonlord Archimonde was long vanquished from the world and the great city of Thunderbluff had already been errected, Ebonfur still lived his quiet life with his parents, high in the mountains between Mulgore and Fearalas, where he would help his father with his work during the day and dream about his uncle's stories during the night. It seemed, that Ebonfur would step in the shoes of his father and remain there until the end of his time. But one day, that changed! One day, the lack of motive, which had prevented Ebonfur from exploring the world beyond the mountains, would be no more!

It was the day of Ebonfur's 17th birthday, and his uncle Ivenhoof had once again come to visit his brother's family. That day, Ebonfur's father allowed his son to travel some miles with Ivenhoof and Ebonfur was very happy about it. His uncle had brought a large hammer with him, and when Ebonfur asked him about it (they had already set off for their stroll across the mountains to the northwest) Ivenhoof proudly told him about the fact that he had accepted a job at the "Crossroads Patrol", which was a band of soldiers whose job it was to guard the town of Crossroads in the midst of the Barrens. Ivenhoof told Ebonfur about his weeks of training and how he learned to wield his new warhammer. Ebonfur, who was not familiar with the concept of "war" but who had already come to appreciate the newfound strength his now grown-up body provided him with, was very impressed by this mighty hammer and how it even bolstered his uncle's already remarkable strength. The two had traveled some more miles, when they came into a small valley. The sun stood already very low and the rocks and hills around them where bathed in twilight. Suddenly his uncle made a gesture to Ebonfur to stop. The two Tauren stopped walking and Ivenhoof thoroughly looked around. "It's quiet here" he said..."too quiet!". That moment, a pack of centaur ambushers came running towards them from three sides! They had obviously hid behind some large rocks and only waited for unsuspecting wanderers in this god-forsaken wilderness. Ivenhoof stood protectively in front of his nephew and wielded his warhammer. Three centaurs approched the two Tauren, accompanied by a pack of three bloodhounds. The hounds attacked Ivenhoof and he fell to the ground. It happened too quickly. Helplessly Ebonfur had to watch, as his uncle's face was torn appart by the bloodhound's fangs. He was even more petrified, when suddenly one of the centaurs wielded a large spear and tossed it right into Ivenhoof's chest, thus quickly making an end of the Tauren's life. Now the three centaurs turned towards Ebonfur, a malicious grinning on their faces. But as the last rays of sun illuminated this gruesome scenario (the bloodhounds were still busy with Ivenhoof's remains), the feelings of Ebonfur began to change rapidly. Ebonfur suddenly became aware of his uncle's warhammer that had fallen to the ground just in front of him. And Ebonfur began to sense a feeling inside him, that he had never even remotely felt in his life: Revenge! It took him only seconds to make a bow and pick up the warhammer. The weapon felt surprisingly good in his hands. He began wielding it and when he saw that one of the centaurs backed away, he swung it even more hastily around himself. Finally, the two other centaurs attacked. But Ebonfur had come across a new kind of strength; the warhammer somehow seemed to extend his arms. The strength of his young Tauren body seemed to have doubled. Ebonfur felt as if the weapon and his body were one entity. One single entity whose only purpose was to crush the enemies to bloody pulp and give them their well-earned "rewards". The centaurs already charged. But now, Ebonfur attacked! Seconds later, one of the centaurs lay bleeding on the dusty ground, his skull crushed by a mighty warhammer. The other two centaurs fled the valley from terror as fast as they could, the bloodhounds following them. Ebonfur threw his hammer after them and screamed: A roar of bestial vigor, that reverberated fiercely between the dimmly lit walls of the mountains for a whole minute it seemed!
Ebonfur then kneeled before the mutilated body of Ivenhoof for what seemed an eternity, praying to the mountains and the Earthmother, that the soul of his uncle would be welcomed amongst the spirits of his ancestors. Ebonfur then buried his uncle beneath a pile of stones. He felt weak and finally he began to walk homewards. But just before leaving the acursed valley, Ebonfur turned once more: His gaze fell upon the warhammer, which he had thrown after his enemies and which still lay between some stones and little rocks in the middle of the valley. He walked towards it and picked up the hammer. Immediately, the strength returned to his body. The weakness faded from him.

Later that night, Ebonfur lay sleeplessly in his room, and he could hear his father's mourning over the death of his brother from the adjecent room. Ebonfur knew, that the time had come to leave his family and follow the path of his uncle. Ebonfur knew, that he had to fulfill the destiny that his uncle had just begun. Ebonfur wanted to meet the "Horde", he wanted to become part of it. He wanted to become a warrior, like his uncle. He wanted to wield the most powerful warhammers, that the craftsmen of Azeroth had to offer.

He would never be weak again!

The following day, Ebonfur said his parents farewell, and set of to the new Tauren homeland, Mulgore, to begin his warrior training. Telling all of the adventures of Ebonfur, that he encountered while travelling the distant lands of Azeroth, would surely be beyond the scope of this tale. But it should be mentioned, that Ebonfur soon befriended a mage of the Forsaken, Fearoth, with whom he travelled most of his time. Despite many Orcs' Trolls' and Taurens' suspicions towards this strange new "Forsaken" allies, Ebonfur - not being a very bigoted person - liked his new friend and quickly rose in the favor of many of the Dark Ladie's "creations". Most of their battles, the two friends fought alone, relying and trusting in their own strength to overcome challenges of any kind. But Ebonfur knew, that the challenges were growing with the renown the two combatants gained, and that they would not be able to overcome everything with just two people. The Horde was a powerful ally, but Ebonfur and Fearoth sometimes missed the familiarity of a smaller band of brothers and sisters. Yet, they did not know which group to join for a long time.
That changed one day, when they made friends with a remarkable Troll shaman, Cajuungumbo, who helped the Tauren and the Forsaken out of a dire situation in the village of Brackenwall in Dustwallow Marsh. Cajuungumbo told the two about his guild, the Ari Scara: a pack of trustworthy, brave and noble fighters of all kinds, who had banded together for mutual benefit. Ebonfur and Fearoth did not hesitate for long and quickly became Wolfcubs of the Ari Scara. With the help of their new pack, they would now be able to overcome challenges, that would otherwise be impossible.

They would never be weak again!

Arturrius

Arturrius is a descendant of an ancient type of Warrior Orcs whose existence came to an almost complete extinction when the Dranei assassins, of what is now known as Outland, snuck into their camps and slayed most of them in their sleep. Only a couple survived the slaughter and went to a more major Orc settlement. After the defeat of the warrior race, the remaining went and joined the expeditionary Orc forces. When the Dark Portal was opened is when the Expeditionary force went further into Stranglethorn Vale and eventually got almost wiped out when they stumbled upon a Human Naval base. Arturrius was born into captivity and was used as slave labour for repairing boats and lifting heavy objects. With the Orcs dominating southern Azeroth the Humans eventually picked up and left to reinforce Stormwind, leaving Arturrius out in the wilderness. Once the Horde finally reached Stranglethorn Vale and establishing Grom’Gol Base camp a scout stumbled upon Arturrius’s bruised and beaten body on the beach where they pulled him into safety. Eventually one of the Warriors taught him armed combat and they realised his potential after he almost managed to cut through one of the support beams for one of the buildings they were constructing. They sent him to the Swamp of Sorrows where his training would further continue. Arturrius came of age shortly after the plague struck Lordaeron and when the majority of the Horde pulled away under Thralls guidance he went with them to use his skills to aid various centaur assaults. Although he followed Thrall to Kalimdor he was never really of a specific clan and as a result he didn’t take to orders very well, which got him viewed as an outcast by some. He never really took part of any of the major battles instead infamous little skirmishes. Eventually he became friends with a Tauren by the name of Nard whose name was known well by that time and Arturrius swore a life debt Nard, which meant protecting him wherever he goes. To this day Arturrius remains true to this debt even after various Heroic like fights. As a result Arturrius was allowed into the Blackhorn Tribe where he was later bestowed with the powers of N’Rak, Nards father. After most of the Blackhorn Tribe was wiped out he went with those remaining to Ari Scara, where he currently resides to this day.

Nard

Nard, Last of the original Black Horn Tribe, Son of N'rak, who was captured by humans after making a deal with the Elves in learning the ways of a Druid. N'rak became powerful and was a threat to the alliance. Captured and held in the Dalaran Shield by the wizards. Nard has had to take his fathers place as Chieftain until recently when all other Black Horn members became seriously ill and died. The rerason behind there death is suspicious but it is beleaved to be the doing of N'Rak. Nard beleaves that he died and his Magical powers infected the Black Horn tribe as a punishment for misuse of the magic. Why Nard was not infected is a mystery, Maybe the ancestors of this world keep him safe. On the night of N'Raks death Nard was visited by an Orc Warlock named Opos, Once a mighty Warlock of Thralls army, Who fell to his death at Hyjal 4 years ago. opos has been sent back to life by the Ancestors of The young Chieftain to protect him and keep his Tribe from extinction. Along with Opos, Nard is also protected by his other 2 orc friends Arturrius and Schlutt, Who have sworn to protect him under any curcumstances. Nard Became friends with a Druid named Nar during the peace march to the enemy lines, Both Nard and Nar knelt before the enemy unarmed and open for attack, From these actions Nard and Nar became more friendly until Nar heard of the Blackhorns being wiped out, Worried for his Friend Nard he contacted him and invited him to meet in Orgrimmar. As They spoke Nar offered the Black Horns refuge within Ari Scara, After organising a meeting with Cajuun Nard realised that that Ari Scara had lots to offer him, and he had lots to offer them. He is now a proud member of the guild Ari Scara and so are his Orc guards.

Mintaurden

I was born 26 years ago, in a hut where Camp Taurajo now stands. My father, Blaine Coarsemane, by trade a skinner and leatherworker, had heard of druidism from a night elf traveller. Not fully understanding the meaning, he decided to take up druidism (despite the fact that druidism was unknown among the Tauren at that time) and many called him insane. The greatest act of power he ever acheived was killing a rat with what I now think could have been a very weak Wrath spell. My mother, Hera Coarsemaine, nee Sharphorn, a herbalist and alchemist, looked after me. However, I knew neither of them for long, as they both died trying to save me from a Thunder Lizard when I was just 5 years old. Many blamed the deaths of my mother and father on my father, they said he could have done more to defend my mother. My father's dying words to me were, "Follow in my footsteps, my dear son." I now seek to eradicate the threat of the Thunder Lizards from the world. After that, I went to live with my grandmother. My grandfather had died around the time of the second war, though he did not die fighting in it. I lived in a very remote seaside village with her, far from the centaur who plagued our lands, so I never saw much combat. One time, when I was 13, my grandmother was dying. I went to fetch the nearest healer, a troll shaman who lived in a nerby hut. When he saw me, he said, "The mana is strong in you, young Tauren, use it as best you can, to help your fellow mons!" He came back to our house and cured my grandmother, and when she fully recovered he spoke about sending me to a shaman trainer. I did not want to be a shaman, because of what my father had said, but my grandmother insisted. She sent me off to live with the troll for 5 years, before being sent off to live on my own. I was a hopeless shaman, much to the annoyance of my trainer. I always lost control, one time almost burning down the troll's hut. I wandered alone for 5 years, having found out that my grandmother had died in her sleep. I had no family, I was a beggar on the streets,. I desperatle wanted to carry out myy father's dying wish, but no one could teach druidism, let alone had heard of it. Until then the great city of Thunder Bluff was built. The city opportunity, they called it. I went there to see if there was anyone who could teach me the ways of the druid, and found that druidism was common knowledge there, and there was even an areas dedicated to it. I trained long and hard, perfecting each talent as I went along. However, deep in my heart there was something missing. I went to talk to the arch druid, who told me that I must find a family. I had already dedicated all of my love to nature, so I could not marry. I was wondering around Thunder Bluff when I saw Ari Scara having a meeting, you all looked so close, and you were calling eachother the names of family members. I longed to join you, so I wondered over and asked if I could join you. I was overjoyed when you said yes, and happily accepted your invitation into my new family. My life was whole again, I had fond happiness.

Thoraxe

This is the Story of Thoraxe:
Im a lone wolf that keeps to him self..

A long time ago was my father killed. He was a proud warrior of the horde. His name was Drek and her helped free the captive Orc Clans, but he fell in battle and was killed at Durnholde thas the name of the slave camp that held our Leader Thrall captive.
Thrall led the attack on Durnholde but in that Battle we lost our Great Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer, my father was a Warrior that did battle along side of Orgrim and he allso fell in battle that day and Thrall became the New Warchief and leader of the Horde.
After my father was killed my mother Volry took me left for the Barrens. Our journey was hard and full of danger. My Mother was heading for a small Town called Crossroads. The Centaur clans at that time held dominion over the Barrens and they preyed on the travelers and caravans heading for the Crossroads.
Me and my mother traveled by night.. the daytime was to dangerous with all them Centeurs on the move. One night me and my mother where attacked by a small Raiding party and although my mother did the best she could to protect me she was no warrior and got killed.. the Centeurs made me there slave..
I hade a hard time growing up.. it was not easy but i kept my self alive with the hope that one day i would be free again. The Centeur taught me the ways of the hunt. After a while i got pretty good with bow and arrow. One night there was alot of noise going on in the Camp a Orc Warparty had found there camp and had attacked it. After the battle was over and the Orc Warriors found me the set me free to wander the world onces more as a Free Orc.
Not long after that i found my way to Crossroads where i learned more about my kin and the ways of the Orcs at some point i was hunting in the lands of the Thousand Needles and that is where i met Baramurth and he became my friend and introduced me to the Ari Scara wolfpack...

Rota'Senin

Róta sat cross-legged on her blanket and for the fourth time examined the pointy end of the quill she held in her hand. It seemed to be perfectly formed and held the right amount of ink, but still none of the words she had in her head wanted to come out onto the parchment in front of her. Leaning forward towards the campfire she turned the quillboar meat over to cook on the other side, pondering that it had been much easier to catch, kill, take a quill and cook it than this writing business.
The firelight cast its glow into a small area of the Barrens and made her feel cosy and warm, and she peered up into the purple-black sky to find Cajuun's star. She smiled and was content, she belonged here as she did to both her families; that of her blood and that of Ari Scara. She remembered being a girl and it made her smile, and the memories flowed from her onto the crisp, blank parchment.
' I was 5 years old when I realised that not all folks could disappear anytime they wanted. I could and so could Ma and Pa and all my brothers and sisters but being the youngest of 17 meant I was spoilt and protected by everyone. Ma especially kept me close, saying I'd be her last and so it was that she took me with her that day.
She needed roots and herbs for poisons and I usually got the job of wriggling into small spaces to pick those out of her reach. It was a hot, beautiful day and we walked far out of our valley and up into the mountains. It was the furthest I'd been from the village and I could see down into the next valley, soft and green just like ours. I watched an old troll who was also collecting herbs. He was bent and slow, and would stop now and then to straighten his back and raise his face to the sun.
Who saw them first is something I'll never know, but I don't suppose it matters. I only realised there was something wrong when Ma dropped the bag she'd been carrying and grabbed my arm. Pulling me to the nearest tree she lifted me high into its leafy branches, 'Stealth, girl,' she hissed at me, 'and be stayin' stealthed till I comes back for ya.' Then she disappeared too and I looked frantically around to see what had happened.
The old troll was looking at something too, his herb basket clutched to him and even at that distance I could smell his fear. I looked in the same direction and saw what he and my Ma had seen, two night elves racing through the valley, bows armed with cruel arrows, in the direction of the troll. Their intention apparent even to me. But I was unconcerned, assuming he would vanish and they would go away, and so scanned the valley for some trace of Ma.
His death was quick and, I hope, painless. He stood with his basket, not attempting to hide or run until they were almost at him and one arrow felled him. I watched him fall backward into the grass and the elves stop and dismount to make sure he was dead, their laughter carried in the wind to me. My only thought at this point was why he hadn't vanished, it seemed inexplicable.
Several things then happened; in what seemed like slow motion one of the night elves tipped his head backwards, a splash of red spurting from his throat; Ma appeared behind him, her arm around his neck and a glint of steel in her hand and the other elf turned towards her, drawing his sword. As a child my concern was for Ma, and I saw only blood and heard the grunts of battle as they circled and cut at each other for what seemed like forever. Eventually tiredness rather than technique swung the fight Ma's way and the elf was struck a fatal blow.
She returned to me tired and bleeding, but no worse than I had seen her return from battle many times before. She smiled softly at me, and swung me down from my branch, 'Ya can unstealth now ma pet, trouble over,' she said.
But I was too puzzled even to do that, ' Why, Ma?, I asked, 'the man. Why did he just stand der and let em do it?'
'He was old my love, too old to run and he knew it. Why give dem der sport?'
'No, no,' I struggled to make my words come in a way that made sense, 'why he not stealth, den dey not find him?'
Ma smiled at that, 'Why my pet, he couldn't, not everyone can. We be special folks. We knows how to do it but the world is full o the folks that can't.' She pulled me close and held me tighter than I ever remembered. 'Dats why ya family is important, manys folks are scared of what we can do, so they hate us for it. We mostly not liked at all, but ya family dey always loves ya, no matter what.' Then turned and with me in the crook of her arm carried my still stealthed form back home.
Once I grew older it became my time to leave the family and make my way in the world, so with a heavy heart and a light pack I bid my farewells and looked for adventure. I travelled to many places and saw many things but Ma's words stayed with me, family was important, and without it a persons heart can grow heavy with loneliness.
And loneliness can do bad things to your soul, take away what you know is right and good and fill the space with a need to be needed, despite anything.'
At this Róta stopped and stared again at the night sky, she sighed and thought that she did not want to write down what happened next. Shame made her skin flush hot and she moved away from the fire's embers. Her word did, at least now, mean something to her and she had told Nar that she would do this, so do it she must.
'My loneliness grew and grew until I was too sad to walk any further. The Crossroads was near by and I decided to rest there. I sat on a hill overlooking the Barrens and tried to decide what I should do. My heart felt heavy with sadness. A little time later I was approached by a priest, who sat beside me and talked. He spoke of things I had never seen, far off places and asked me about my travels. It was good to talk again. After a while he asked if I would be prepared to help him with a task. He wanted me to become a member of a group in his place and said he would of course pay me for my trouble. At first I was wary, but he talked and flattered me and stupidly I agreed to his plan. My heart felt less empty because of his attentions.
It was then he told me that the group was called Ari Scara.
And so I joined the pack, not honourably as everyone else but deviously. From the start I realised my mistake. I had found a family where I felt secure and protected but I was an impostor, a serpent in their midst. Very troubled by this I decided to declare my true self to the pack and confess my deceit. I realised that there was a chance that they would ask me to leave but I would have preferred that to the feeling of treachery.
To my delight I was accepted despite my mistake and Ari Scara has become my true family. With them I have found a second place where I am loved, no matter what I am.

Mordrins tale

I was born in a hut; memory does not serve well so I do not know where. I was brought up by my mother and father and frequently played with my brother Mintaurden, who I recently found out being my brother. My mother was an expert in Fishing and Cooking and my father in Skinning and Leatherworking. Mintaurden was always very interested in my mother's cooking. My father was also a pretty lousy druid. He had heard the term when an ancient night elf ventured through The Barrens.
It was the middle of the night, we were all sleeping peacefully. Suddenly a Stormsnout or Thunder Lizard, I am not very sure which one, charged through our hut and trampled my parents. Mintaurden and I fled, absolutely terrified and mourning our loss. I then fell unconscious and dropped to the ground. When I woke up Mintaurden had gone, I was scared, I thought that the creature had killed him too. I ran onto the road and was nearly trampled by a kodo. The kodo stopped and a rider stepped off of it's back. The rider told me that he was the messenger of our Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof and that he knew someone who could teach me the way of the hunt. I was then taken to Hunter Rise in Thunderbluff and trained there in the way of the hunt. I was then old enough to accomplish my Rites and managed to slay the great kodo, Arra'chea. I was free to venture anywhere I wished, now that I had become an official bull. I then chose to venture to The Barrens in the hope of finding my brother. My searching finally leads me to the guild Ari Scara where Mintaurden, whom I thought was my cousin at the time, told me that he was my brother. I was overjoyed after finding him at last after so long. This brings me up to recent events where I am writing this letter to you.

Iglorays Curse

With the recent death of a friend I just made, I walked sadly to the great gates of Ogrimmar. When I entered Ogrimmar, I noticed a group of Tauren speaking with each other, and I noticed the crest on their tabards, they were exactly as my friend described once. Walking towards the group, I asked if they were Ari Scara. One of them nodded. I told them I was seeking a group of friends to join, as mine was eaten a short while ago. That same day I joined Ari Scara.

With a proud feeling I went with two of the Taurens to Razorhill to chat a bit. But then I noticed it just turned midnight. The view of the Taurens turned vage and my eyes blackened. I was having one of the visions I had each day at the same time. I saw strange figures moving in my visions, long ears, purple skin... Night Elves! And then... Always that same grim face, a female Night Elf looking with fury in her eyes at me. Then my vision stopped, it always stopped after the Night Elf.

After I woke up I told the Taurens about the visions I had been having. One of the Taurens, Ishiguro, seemed to be really willing to help. I said the next day at the same time., I will have a vision again. That day, I continued in training in the ways of the Mage. I met Ishiguro in the inn in Ratchet. We chatted about family. I didn't have much to tell, because I don't know anything at all about my family... Then I asked Ishiguro how late it was. He walked outside to see what the time was. Then everything suddenly turned vage again, and again my eyes blackened. I again saw the Night Elven figures, only shooting bows this time. Then I saw her face again. She looked in to my eyes with anger, but this time the vision didn't end that fast. I tryed to say something, and I managed! "Why are you looking at me in that way?!" I asked. Ishiguro seemed to be hearing what I said, as he said after I woke up. "What are you doing in my visions, you damn Troll? Must I seek you and kill you?! Get away from my mind!" I was surprised! She understood my language aswell as I understood hers. Then I woke up. Ishiguro seemed very concerned. He asked if I was alright, I said yes. He told me he heared me talking and speaking for the Night Elf aswell. I said I was going to be fine.

Then something unusual happend. I got a sudden headache and everything blackened, and I started to see figures. Later I woke up, and strangely, I was lying on the beach north of Ratchet. Ishiguro looked with a grim face at me. He insulted me! What did I do? I asked if it really was Ishiguro, and his face changed of expression. "Igloray? Is that you?" It seemed the Night Elf had found a way out to control my mind.

I had a hard day of work, and just went to Ogrimmar to learn some new spells. I was again not watching the time. I had a vision again. This time I saw a small Warlock muttering some words. Tiljaedens face appeared. "Did you see that Gnome? He put this curse on me! He binded my mind with you in visions, but I know how to control your mind thanks to this curse, one of us must die to end this curse!" I plead her not to control my mind. Then I woke up.
The next day it happend. Suddenly somewhere at one of the oases in the Barrens I blacked out. I did not know what she told Ari Scara. I saw her patrolling past the tower in my vision again, the same time. I woke up, and it was evening.
I went to Ishiguro in Ratchet and told him I had a plan. We were going to set up an ambush on Tiljaeden. And it was going to happen just an hour we planned it. I fell asleep and Ishiguro wen't to the tower in the barrens to await Tiljaeden. I woke up later, and it seemed Tiljaeden escaped. Ishiguro came wounded towards me. I asked if he was okay. He nodded.

The next night I was afraid. Afraid Tiljaeden would hunt me down in my sleep. I went to Sen'Jin village and got my vision there. No words were given to each other this time. I woke up, and decided to sleep again. What I did not know, was that Tiljaeden sneeked into the Valley of Trials...

I woke up, and received a warm smile of Ishiguro. He was under blood and cuts, it wasn't a pleasant sight... I asked what happend and he told me Tiljaeden was dead. I asked him where her corpse laid and he told me North of Sen'Jin. I was astonished! She was that close to her victory! Ishiguro had to leave, and I waved him goodbye and hugged him as thanks. After the goodbye I walked North of Sen'Jin to seek Tiljaedens body. Nowhere. I did see signs of battle, but I couldn't see Tiljaeden. I turned around and I suddenly got a stab in my lung. Tiljaeden must have been ressurected.
The next night I slept without having a vision. The curse was no more... But Tiljaeden seemed to be seeking revenge.

Sointu's Lost Diary

dear diary.

this is my first time i ever write in to you, it feels kinda stupid to just speak to the book, but dad says that it could comfort me since mom died.. oh ancestors, i miss her so much.. why did she have to leave? there come's my brother "proud druid of the family"! nah.. i just need to hide you.. under the bed perhaps.. good bye now.

hi again. that jerk findet you! (my brother) he readet it and said that im a.. something, i cant really understand what he said, but im sure it was something bad! anyway, he said that im far too old to write diary "thats girls stuff" well say what he wants.. i think he like's me, after all he teases me a lot and naggs everything, but he's still my brother.. dad's calling uss for dinner, i remember when mom used to do that..

I found it! i know, dad wants me to come druid or shaman or something like that, but i dont agree! i want to be a warrior, i saw one reeaaallyy good looking brave one today, and he's a warrior.. girls say that i have crush on him but im not! anyway, i heard people talking that my mother was a warrior too, thats one more reason to come one! no hard words you have to remember all the time and the training is lot more fit for me.. ps: i saw a undead today, he was one the hunter's rise where me and my brother was fooling around.. he stinked awfull! and looked! rotting meat all over him bone's and the cloths ware all ripped, i hope i wont see a nother one!

hi diary sorry for not be writing for a while, but im all over with the training, it much harder than i thought! and dad did find out.. first he was furious and yelled all the time, then he said something like "..and in the end you propaply get killed like your" then he stopped, sighed and mumblet something like "..i shouldnt say that.." then with sad eye's he said "your not gonna be a warrior, and thats it, its not place for a girl like you.. now go pick flowers or something.." then he left, he has been gone all day..

whats going on! dad commed home last night, really drunk, went off to bed and passed out. on the morning, he isnt speaking to me! well, i will not stop my training as a warrior, even if my mom did.. well, i must be going, i write more on the night! same day, my trainer said that i have come a good warrior, and wishes me seek out more, and travel of from mulgore. when i telled my dad, he just said "your not going" and gazed away from me.. i feel terrible about him.. i havent telled my brother yet, and i'm going anyway. i dont want him to ruin my plans!

hello barrens! one findet my way to crossroad, and im exhausted, im just gonna spell a bit.. well, the way wasent easy, i got lost few time's and almost killed by raptors and things like that.. well im off to bed, see you later! ps: crossroad has really good looking guy's, i havent seen really many females here, but some.. ofcourse not all are handsome and pretty! and im not having a crush on anybody, "im waiting for one"

Wachtower guess what, guess what, i met really nice tauren to night at the wachtower! he got some scars, but he's still handsome and really really nice. he said that his name is Nard, but im not so sure.. it can be a fake name, cant it? maby he's just someone who hits girls for fun.. but he dosent feel like it, and donsent seem like one.. gotta be carefull you know? well, i really like him and we will see again, he promished.. he said that he's waching over barrens, meaby there is enemy sneeking out to crossroad.. well, anyway, i'll go out for a date with him, and see how it goes

*seems like a one page is ripped off from here*

dear diary this time im not going to write about Nard, just becourse everyone says that im talking way too much of him.. well, as i said last time, i solved it out with my dad and brother.. im off to look new place's, i have got some really good friends and i have joined one Guild, Wildfire, it seems really nice, and i have got lots of friends.. well, more later!

*rest page's are blank, seems like she lots her diary*

The story of Schlutt the Hunter

In a small un-named village in the south west of Durotar some 22 years ago, Schlutt was born to a young orc tradeswomen and a warrior father he would never meet.

His upbringing was typical of most small tribes with tradition and respect being placed at the foremost in every situation, Schlutt grew to young adulthood learning the ways of the tribe and the teachings of the elders to which he excelled in all but one, Although he was coached by the most skilled armourers in the village it was quite apparent that the boy was no warrior. Where as the other young ones, his brothers included would spend their free time in small groups training with their chosen arms and bragging of their recent (albeit humble) conquests he would spend the time with his sister, Jahadiel, or collecting small items from the local woods for his mothers wares.

Returning from a hunting trip to collect meat for his family’s evening meal, Schlutt peered down from the cliff top above his village only to be met with a scene of utter devastation, The huts smoldered and the ground tremor as the alliance horsemen raged through his once peaceful home, His first thought was for his mother but then another thought struck him like a mace in the head…

…he had left his young sister at the hunting grounds looking at flowers while he strode off ahead to deliver his “trophy” to his family.

Without thinking Schlutt dropped the weighty carcass of the strider and turned without looking, He did not see the blow from the night elf warriors club until it made contact with his neck, as darkness enveloped him his only thought was for his sister and the only word he could muster the will and strength to utter was simple…Revenge!

As the light flooded painfully into his vision and the sound of the nearby camp fire seared in his skull Schlutt heard a deep calming voice as if from a distance, He tried hard to focus but could only make out the shape of a giant man with horns As his senses slowly came back to the young orc he was aware of the mighty tauren kneeling beside him and the orc warrior stood at the mouth of the cave wearing armour that made the air around it hum and crackle, He tried to speak but the tauren simply placed a hoof to his lips and assured him he would be ok.

Over the months that passed Schlutt regained his health and vitality with the help of his new found friends, Nard the last of the black horns and Arturrius the brave orc warrior, He had been told of the brutal attack on his village and how they had been passing nearby when they had heard the commotion of battle and came in search of survivors.

With great pride in his heart Schlutt was awarded the title of black horn by Nard and vowed that while the tauren chief still drew breath he would serve him as a protector and friend….nard told Schlutt of the ways of the Hunter and took him to an old hunter in the valley of trials to be trained in the art of tracking and long range combat This he took to with great speed, knowing one day his new found skills would help him recover what had been taken from him so cruelly by the alliance raid that left him for dead.

And so it was when Nar proclaimed that the last of the Black horns would have a place within Ari Scara that Schlutt re-took his place by nards side to defend the mighty guild and the Horde itself from the wrong doings of the malevolent alliance…..

But this story is far from over…

Jahadiel the Warlock

She shivered as she looked round at her surroundings. Nights in the Barrens were always as cold as the days were searing, and she’d forgotten to bring her fur-lined cloak with her. The paltry campfire she’d managed to scrape together out of the bits of brush around her camping spot was giving out next to no heat, and she didn’t dare make it bigger for fear of attracting the larger predators that roamed the arid landscape. Not for the first time she considered the circumstances that had brought her to this point. The youngest child in a large family, Jahadiel was usually the one overlooked by the rest, especially at mealtimes, which explained her small stature. Scrawny and short, with deep violet hair, and blue-green skin, she was a poor specimen of orc, even for a warlock, but the strength of her spirit and stubborn will had seen her through many situations where muscles might have failed.
Watching the flames dancing in front of her, Jahadiel thought back to that fateful day many years ago that had put her underdeveloped feet onto the path she now followed.....

Screeching loudly, the Plainstrider struggled uselessly in the woven rope that was now stretched taut around its neck. With a final wrenching snap, the bird’s bones gave in and it tumbled to the ground in a flurry of feathers. Schlutt stood up from behind the bush where he was hiding and gave out a hearty laugh. “See, Jaha?” he roared as he surveyed yet another triumph, “it’s easy when you know how! Decent food tonight!” He drew his hunting knife with a flourish and deftly cut through the rope. Hauling the carcass over his shoulder, he set off at a steady lope back to their home to the north, shouting, “Don’t be late, Jaha! You don’t want just bones again, do you?” Schlutt was a few years older than Jahadiel, and it was a foregone conclusion that his future role would be as a Hunter. Dextrous and swift, yet powerful, his skills were already being remarked upon by Horde officers stationed near their home. Jaha pouted and sullenly yelled back, “Yeah? Well maybe I like the bones!” but he was already out of earshot. “Maybe they’re the best bit and no-one else knows,” she grumbled. “Not that I’d have a basis for comparison – not with leftovers being my ’favourite’...”
She sighed and picked up her knapsack. Turning to go, she spied a dust cloud in the distance. Her curiosity piqued, she peered at it, wondering who could be approaching that fast. With a growing feeling of horror in the pit of her stomach, she realised that it was an Alliance raid, and it was headed straight for her village. Knowing full well that the soldiers garrisoned at their outpost were on a scout mission and that there were far too few to defend, she sped off in the direction of home. As she ran, her foot caught on a briar, tripping her, and as her head hit the ground, she knew no more. When she came to, her first thought was for her family. She ran as fast as she could back to the house, but was devastated to find the place ransacked but deserted. There were no bodies, but though she wandered searching for days, she found no trace of them. Finally, exhausted from heat and thirst, she collapsed in front of a cave.
She woke to find herself in a bed, her blistered skin soothed and an old wizened orc standing over her. “Don’t think you can lay there all day,” he sneered. “I’ve spent valuable supplies on you. You’ll stay here and work off what you owe me, and in return I’ll feed you and give you a place to sleep. And maybe I’ll teach you a thing or two about how to really take care of yourself...” This last was said in a cryptic tone, as if he had the secrets of the universe at his disposal.
As time wore on, Jahadiel discovered the old orc was a warlock, and in return for certain services, he agreed to take her as his apprentice. But sadly for Jaha, the old warlock was not all he seemed. One night, she followed him to a cave in the hills, where she found him preparing for the Ultimate Summon, a ritual that required the sacrifice of another, and for a particularly strong summon, preferably another warlock.....She crept back to bed, summoning her succubus and instructing it to hide under her bed, then when he came in with his Voidwalker, she killed them both.....

Her eyes wandered to the star studded sky as she contemplated her past.... not knowing where her family was had been an ache she had learned to deal with, yet she had a feeling, a sense that old wounds were going to be opened, and not entirely sure that it would be a bad thing.
Standing up and kicking sand over the fire, she shouldered her pack. There was bound to be a Mottled Boar somewhere that would provide her with materials for a cloak. With this in mind, she set off down the road, determined to find the answers to her past.....

Kelthutha, Priest and Seeker of Knowledge

At a mass grave in Durotar, Kelthuthas was brutally pulled from the grasp of death as he heard the voice of one of the Lich King's loyal servants. "Rise.. Rise and be known as Kelthuthas.. Rise!! Servant of the Lich King". And yet another servant was added to the ranks of the Lich Kings army. Its name was Kelthuthas.

From the day Kelthuthas was raised he was studied to see if he had any talents, or if he was to be yet another mindless slave. It didn't take the ones who was observing Kelthuthas long to see that he had the power over life and death. From the day it was discovered that Kelthuthas had that special power, he was a disciple of the priest Tomal who was a high ranking priest in the Lich King's army.

From he day he started his priestly training he made progress. Tomal was pleased with his disciple. When Kelthuthas had been under Tomal's guidance for 4 month he could heal as good as any priest who had practiced for years. After 6 month of guidance in the art of healing Tomal had to admit that he could not teach Kelthuthas more, and he recommended Kelthuhtas to be taugh the ability to raise the dead. Kelthuthas was honored and accepted so he could make his mentor Tomal proud. By this time he got the rank of "Priest of the Scourge". Tomal suspected that Kelthuthas had the ability to heal from when he had lived, but Kelthuthas had no memory of it.

It didn't take long for Kelthuthas to learn how to raise the dead, and after 3 years of raising servants for the army of the Lich King, Kelthuthas was promoted to the rank of High Priest of the Scourge...

Then one day when Kelthuthas was in Deathknell, at the graveyards, he suddenly felt unshackled. He could not hear the Lich King inside his head any more... Instead he heard a female voice, a seductive yet firm voice. It was the voice of the Banshee Queen Lady Sylvanas. The Lich King had lost his grasp of much of his army, he had been weakened! But it was not only the Lich King who had lost power, Kelthuthas had lost his too. He still remembered how to cast the spells, but without the power of his master... he could not cast one spell!

Lady Sylvanas asked Kelthuthas to join the Forsaken, she asked all who the Lick King had lost his grasp upon. Kelthuthas, not knowing what to do with his newfound freedom, accepted her offer and joined the Forsaken. He began the struggle to regain his power. But the road was long, and Kelthuthas felt he had walked it several times before.

Varimathras, who was a former Dreadlord in the Burning Legion and now Lady Sylvanas right hand and General, asked Kelthuthas to venture to the Ragefire Chasm. Kelthuthas vent to Orgrimmar and into the Ragefire Chasm. but the monsters down there was to stong for him, and he left the place. Then an Orc warrior came to his and offered to aid him. Kelthuthas was surprised, that the warrior would even consider helping him, but thanked him and they ventured into the Ragefire Chasm. Ghazkull, which was the name of the warrior, killed what needed to be killed.

After the trip Kelthuthas thanked Ghazkull, and the left for Undercity.

Many month later Kelthuthas, who had made it his mission to seek knowledge elsewhere than the library, decided to go to Orgrimmar to find fellowship. He felt he had been alone to long..

In Orgrimmar he met Ghazkull, who was leader of a pack called the Ari Scara. He asked to join the Ari Scara, and was accepted...

Painhoof - The Mysterious Shaman

My home? It used to be the Red Cloud Mesa. I grew up there, and it was where I had my first encounter with the elements. I was not old when I threw my first bolt of electricity, nor did it take me long to pick up on the ways of the leatherworker.
As fine as our little village was, and still is for that matter, I sought more.
One day while I was out hunting for Kodo Leather a strange creature spawned before me, a spectral being, not of our world. It took the shape of a wolf, and howled at me. Filled with fear and fascination, I stepped closer, with my simple weapons at the ready. As I approached, the wolf turned around and ran north. For what seemed to be hours I chased it, and when caught up with it, at last, it was swept away by the wind like smoke. I had never been in these areas of Mulgore, and the beasts in the area were far beyond my strength. I found refuge in a cave by the mountainside. To my surprise I was greeted by a very old Tauren, and when I explained what had happened, he told me to calm down and be happy. The Earth Mother herself had sent me a vision, a sign that I was ready to dive further into the shamanistic arts.
I stayed with the old one for several weeks until he told me that it was time for me to move on. I was told to seek out the Elders of Thunder Bluff. Several rites had to be done before I was allowed to enter the city, but my newfound hunger for more power made it a quick task. My deeds did not go by unspoken of, and I soon found myself carrying out commands from the Bloodhoof Chieftan himself. I learned to treat everyone in my path with respect, both ally and enemy.

Time passed, and my journeys took me to places I had only heard of in stories of long-forgotten battles. I started working for the Orcs, which led me to the great horde city by the name of Orgrimmar. I was told to cleanse the caves below Orgrimmar, called the Ragefire Chasm by locals, from demons and whatever else dwelled there. Among the warlocks outside the cave I met a dead man. He said he was of the Forsaken, a member of the Horde. He slaughtered masses of Troggs and other hellspawn as we ventured deeper into the Chasm together. Even the leaders of this twisted cult fell without much hustle. The dead man explained to me that he did not kill them, merely "put them to sleep". I'm guessing you have to have a quite different view on death after dying yourself. From the ashes of our enemies I managed to salvage quite a few magically objects, that I use with pride even to this day.
I received gifts from the Thrall, the Warchief, as a token of his gratitude. The undead had powers far beyond my comprehension, and was clearly completely mad. I have heard of these wielders of Frost and Flame before, the mages.
They grow addicted to magic; it alters them into terrible beings. I pray to the Earth Mother that I will never turn into such a Night bringer.
Again time went by, and the journey took a, cough, rotten turn. I was sent to Undercity, hometown of the Forsaken.
Varimathras, a terrible looking fellow, sent me to the Silverpine Forest. They told me that Archmage Arugal, who ruled the Shadowfang Keep, had to die.
Being sent to fight someone as mad as the night bringers, sent chills down my spine. I called upon my Forsaken ally, who I now called friend. I'm pretty sure he hates me, but not more than everything else on this earth.
The keep was a living nightmare, and I'm glad I can't recall much. Arugal did die though, and I also got myself a shield from what was once a holy warrior of the alliance. When I returned to Undercity Lady Sylvanas herself gave me a ring, glowing with pure power.
Many a tale is now catching up with me. Among my recent exploits are a visit to the Wailing Caverns of the Barrens, again with the night bringer, and I have also been spending much time fighting off the constant Alliance intruders in the Warsong Gulch.
Recently I met another Undead Mage, by the name of Amotettdrera, and he told me about the Ari Scara. I found Naria, and joined the guild.
Only the Earth Mother knows where my journey will take me now, but I can rest assured that I will have powerful friends and allies to guide and aid me.

Fearoth - The Fire Mage

Morgan Kell was a very gifted Alchemist of great renown who lived a peaceful life with his family in Lordaeron. Never having been a warrior or a Soldier, he survived all the wars of the past, including the many civil wars and conflicts through the protection of the Royal guards. --- Until one day the fate of the world itself was on the edge of doom, as the overwhelming threat of the Burning legion drew ever closer. In a last desperate attempt to stop the assault of the Burning Legion the free people of Azeroth united and so the Humans of Lordaeron moved to mount Hyjal with all fighting force they could muster. They together with the Dwarves formed the first of three lines of defence that the legion would have to breach, should it want to reach the world tree and corrupt it until the end of time.

Only this time it was not exclusively for those skilled in the art of war craft to venture into the fray. This time, the ones of sufficient physical strength, as well as the artisans of important Professions had to fulfil their duty as well beyond the burden that life had already laid upon them.
And so, Morgan bid his farewell as he was beginning to feel - last goodbye to his Family and drew out with the troops to brew potions and aid in the treatment of the wounded in the encampments of the Humans and Dwarves in the heat of Battle.

The fray lasted for an eternity and Morgan Kell was able to save the lives of several comrades. His knowledge about strengthening or agitating potions or those that granted wizards the ability to throw even more lethal spells against their enemies also aided the defenders of Hyjal in keeping their defences up a bit longer.

But then it came to pass, that Archimonde sent his most formidable lieutenant into battle: Azgalor, Successor of Mannoroth and new Master of the Pitlords. His incredible vileness and power finally brought an outcome to the front lines between men, dwarves and the Scourge. Even the greatest warriors and heroic fighters were literally mowed down by Azgalors burning blade and in a matter of minutes the whole encampment was burned down to a pile of ash.
It happened to occur just then, that it was Morgan’s turn to deliver newly brewed potions to the front of battle. And so, as Morgan rode unknowingly to the front lines, he rode towards his doom.

And the light extinguished. But only a few seconds later it was replaced by utter pain and an unknown force wrenched Morgan to his feet, before he even had time to consider the horror that had just occurred to him.
His body was mangled, his spirit lost in a deep fog but nonetheless he jumped up, suddenly driven by bloodlust, pain and hatred towards all good and living things that still were in the world.

Morgan did not yet know what it was, that could ease his pain but blindly he followed Azgalor, his new master like a deity into battle. The defenders were literally executed and slain and when it was over the minions of the Scourge feasted upon the bodies, many of whom rose as possessed slaves soon afterwards.

It was then, that Azgalor gave orders to bring forth even more fresh minions to serve as cannon fodder for the upcoming assault on the next line of defence.

No one was supposed to be spared. And thus, even the one who had once been called Morgan Kell, grabbed the bloodiest blade he could find to hunt down those, who had escaped into the forests and deliver them a most gruesome death.

However, Morgan was blessed with a high fortitude. Facing his slain comrades and their defiled bodies, he began to slowly understand what hat happened and what he had done as Azgalors influence lessened with increasing distance between him and Morgan.

Full of rage, Morgan turned towards the Scourge again and he managed to redeem some of its followers close to him from their torment. However, this didn’t go unnoticed. The man, who walked between life and death soon realized, that Azgalor would soon be informed of him.

Driven by panic he escaped, until he came across a band of dwarves. Happily he was about to ask them to take him with them to the orc encampment but before he could utter a word, they raised their rifles against him. Having believed all this to be nothing but a brief nightmare, Morgan now quickly came to realize the truth and what it meant to him. And the world seemed to collapse around him.
He managed to escape from the dwarves and for a long time, he strode lonely through the forests, knowing that he would be neither welcomed by friend nor foe. He thought about his family and he realized that they must never know about the gruesome message: That Morgan would henceforth walk the earth as undead. No, he had to spare them this pain.
The pain began to consume him.

After a week of aimless wandering, he finally sat down, and totally succumbed to his grief and hatred. He began to ravage the vicinity and many plants and beasts of the forest had to serve as a valve for his torment. Until at last a thought struck his brain: Who happened to have won the Battle of Mt. Hyjal? Would the Scourge now rule the world? Would it soon overrun the cities of man?

Hatred was replaced by fear, pity and grief for his family and he managed to walk back to Mt. Hyjal within a day. Having arrived, he hid and observed and thus he was eventually reassured of the frays lucky outcome. For the first time in many days, he was overcome by feelings of relief and happiness.

Firmly believing, that his family would live on happily, remembering him as a brave and lovable person he turned to go. Full of joy, he walked into the most desolated areas of Ashenvale Forest, where he lay down beneath the most beautiful tree he could find, to die.

And there he lay for a long time.

He ceased counting the hours, the days. And he prayed that, although he noticed he could not starve, death would ultimately find him.

But nothing happened.

Despair once again rose within him. As a last resort, he decided to find one of the most formidable bears of Ashenvale and tease him until the bear would tear him apart, releasing him from his Doom.

He found a bear and he teased it. But just when the beast was about to charge him, the incredible happened. A fire bolt dashed from the thicket behind and incinerated the bear in a single huge flame. As Morgan turned around, he beheld a robe-clad woman, obviously undead and he immediately sensed that this being did not belong to the Scourge.

He had met the Forsaken and thus, fate allowed him to do what he had stopped thinking possible. Morgan once again, was able to join a community. And he developed arcane skills that had ever since hibernated within him finally awakened by his Undeath.

And a new sense of life came upon him.

He was reborn as Fearoth, the fire mage and he decided to become one of the most lethal magi of Azeroth to make the Scourge pay for all that it had inflicted upon him and all free beings of the world.

FOR THE HORDE!!!

((acknowledgment)) ((i have finished writing this story a long time ago. Unfortunately I was missing both, the time and the skill to translate such a story into English. That is why Im deeply indebted to Ebonfur, without whose help I could never have completed this Story))

Szargh Lethalclaw

He was born in one of the bigest and proudest clan, the Blackrock Clan, just before terible war with Gul’dan and his shadow council. His early years were very hard, during the war, after warchief Orgim the Doomhammer’s death, Blackrock Clan was diveded. Many of his clan brothers joined evil Rend Blackhand but some of them were still loyal to the Horde and stayed with young warchief Thrall. Szarg familly was loyal to the new warchief and they setlled in the Orgimar city. In the Big O (orgrimmar), Szargh started his spiritual education and when he was 17 he passed his shaman test. For many years he was training his skills and gaining the elder’s respect.
One day something happened which changed his life for ever. Dhorm, grandson of Orgim came to the city with vision of rebuilding glory of the Blackrock Clan. Szargh with out any hestitation joined with Dhorm. Together they were traveling throught the Kalimodor, looking for old members of they clan. After three years Blackrock, was again big and even important clan with Dhorm as its chieftain and Szargh as Farseer.
This were good days of his life but sadly didn’t last very long. Szargh fall in love with Vixza, a young orcish girl. But she was behaving like he didn’t exist. Szargh was so frustrated, that he did everything to pay attention to her. One day he made a big mistake, he asked the spirits for help in winning Vixza’s heart. The spirit started were infuriorated with him, because he disregarded an ancient agreement betwen shamans and spirits. With out his shamnistic power he was noone in the eyes of his clan brothers and sisters, so he left them and went on the very long journey to the Stonetalon Mountains. He found there his old friend Zunji, a pridewing of the great wyvernpeak tribe, who helped him get back the feeling of his own worth. After that Szargh did everyhing to reclaim his lost powers. Fortunately spirits took pity on him and once more he could speak with them.
He learned about the Ari Scara from a member of the Chillwind Covenant at a meeting, but only later he realised that it would be place perfect for him. He met Lupus, and asked him to tell something about his pack. Szargh was amazed, and on this meeting he became one of you. Now he has feeling that he is not alone on this planet, he had lost to many things in his life to afford losing anymore, so he will do everything within his power to keep his new pack safe.
Finally in his life he found peace and good fortune.

Magistrat the Troll Mage

Five years after his birth, a troll male thought he had been abandoned in the coldest mountains there are in all Azeroth. All that had been wrapped around his body were some sheets of linen and one of wool in the freezing cold that would have frozen anything liquid in only but a few seconds. Strangely but he was drawn into sleep, but that sleep went on for days, transforming into a certain trance. When he woke up from that trance, he felt himself burning but in a certain way he was still freezing, for he was into the coldest mountains of all. He then stood up feeling his legs move against his will towards the peak of the mountains ... and ... as he was moving not being able to control anything but his very own two eyes , he saw unimaginable things such as frost twisters and hurricanes of fire hurling over the freezing lands and rain made of pure arcane power.

Indeed he could not realise what he was seeing or feeling , for he was burning from the intense fire , freezing from the coldest ice shards surrounding him and all the lands and being struck by pure arcane magic .

His legs still moving towards a portal he then realised that it was not this place he was abandoned to, but this being something else, something that could not exist in the lands of Azeroth. He then suddenly stopped, his legs being as heavy as the mountain itself, impossible to move. After a few moments of clear conscience, or perhaps clear is not the proper word for it, all fire, frost and arcane stopped, they formed some sort of circle all together, and in one second it surrounded him, not even 5 yards away from his fragile and small body. All three schools of magic struck him, hurricanes of fire, icy winds and ice shards and enormous arcane missiles raining from the sky, all as never seen before struck the poor troll child, raising him from the ground, inducing a trance upon him.

Surprisingly, he woke up in an unknown to him village. But another surprise was the fact that he was not the small child anymore, he was indeed a tall and fit troll male. The fear though did not change; it was still there weakening his heart. He fell off the tree he woke up in, and falling next to the chief of that certain village, he stood up and apologizes to him. The chieftain looks upon his face and tusks, and knew something was amiss about that troll, but welcomed him into the tribe.

After one year, the chieftain and that male troll became friends, and when the certain troll male had enough trust for the chief of the village that he recently discovered to be Sen`Jin village, he told him that he does not remember how but he knows he was abandoned when he was five years old. Then the chieftain realised what was a miss about the troll male, and he told him he remembers who he is, and that he knew his parents also, but then the chieftains face lowers into his chest, and guilt falls upon him as he remembers that his parents threw him in the river with no mercy or though of what might happen to him.

Rage filled the young troll male’s heart and mind when he heard what his parents had done to him, and at that moment he stood up, ran outside with raging icy tears when falling upon the ground had frozen anything on it, his hands surrounded by pure arcane and fire bursting through the frozen ground, saying something that no one understood, he ran away into the desert lands called The Barrens where he stopped, fell on his knees , and wept for days.

After a couple of days he returned to Sen`Jin, apologized for any damage done, and moments after ... the chieftain whispered slowly to his ear:" You are indeed a powerful mage, and that place you talked about when we were talking by the fire a while ago is the Twisting Nether, a place where only a mage is brought to and only one of the most honour full ones are allowed to survive and see the might of arcane, fire and frost.

I ... Magistrat... was that Troll male which, after years and years of unimaginable sufferance and torment, became a mage. And on that day in Sen`Jin village when i realised what I am, I swore to defend these lands and protect them and be as honourable as I can be, helping others when in need and protecting anyone that is in harm’s way.

And one day, as I ventured into the lands of Durotar, I came along a warlock named Jahadiel and although she was a warlock, she had goodness in her, unlike any warlock I’ve met before. She saw the honour in me perhaps, she saw I was looking for greater things to accomplish, and she took my hand and told me to follow her. And so I did, seeing she respected creatures instead of killing them all like a warlock who has no respect for beautiful and good things, I respected her as well and followed her with all the trust I could find inside of me to a meeting of a guild ... a mighty and wise guild ... a truly honour full guild that wished perhaps the same things I did and do still ... and I was amazed by it, I was captured by it and I was honoured and still am and will be, that on that day when the sky seemed to be falling on me once again, she ...Jahadiel, and an honoured Orc named who was the chief of that certain guild, and not only him but him as the chief, honoured me by welcoming me into their guild . And so began my dream to protect the lands with the powers that lie in the Twisting Nether, the powers that were granted to me for a purpose that I think is the same as the cause I live for, and it was easier and more pleasurable to do it with the proud members of the truly wonderful guild ...the Ari Scara, protectors of the Horde.

Asheen

Asheen grew up in a small hut in the mountains outside Sen'jin. Her family consisted of her two elder brothers Ash'Ek and Ash'Ak, her mother and her father. Ever since her earliest years she had possessed a strange gift. Fire didn't seem to hurt her. At times it even engulfed her hands without any apparent reason.

Because of that, her mother thought it better to keep her away from school and the other children from the village. Never having trusted others much she thought they might be mean to Asheen because of her gift. Instead she took care of Asheen's education as good as she could. Teaching her how to read, write and make the most of the nature around her. Even though she loved learning new things writing and reading proved to be very hard for her to learn. She had a habit of setting the paper on fire, especially when she was writing. But after a while she had mastered at least reading just out of pure stubbornness. But her favorite thing to do was mixing potions and collecting herbs.

Asheen's brothers loved exploring the world and were always away on various adventures. She too wanted to see the world, but her mother always told her she wasn't old enough. Finally one day she told Asheen that next spring, she could make her first journey to Orgrimmar, the big city north of Sen'jin. Although she had to be accompanied by her brothers.

Finally Spring came. Asheen had looked forward to this for a long time. Accompanied by her two brothers she went to Orgrimmar. There she met Enyo, one of the mage trainers. She agreed to train Asheen in the art of fire magic since she clearly had talent for that. After a while she was allowed to go to Orgrimmar without her brothers as they headed for the Undercity, a city they always had wanted to visit.

On one of Asheen's trips to Orgrimmar she met another who caught her interest. It was a troll named Culjon. They really liked each others company and he brought her along on many journeys all across the world. He also introduced her to Nar and Naria, two members of Ari Scara. She had been looking for a group of people who didn't think war was the most important thing in life, just as she, and it seemed like she had finally found one. It didn't take long for her to became a member of the pack. During the coming period of her life she either spent her time with Culjon or adventuring with Nar, Thoraxe, Elmonk and Baramurth from Ari Scara.

Times were good, but of course they couldn't stay that way forever. One day Culjon told her he was going on a journey on some goblin ship. She didn't like the sound of that, as she had never trusted the goblins. Her fears seemed to come true since Culjon has yet to return from his voyage. Shortly afterwards she got word that her father, who had always been smoking a bit too much peacebloom, had died. Getting overcome with grief she fled to her beloved forest in Feralas to mourn her losses. She spent several months in Feralas alone with her squirrel Rusty, avoiding contact with others. After a while though she felt that it was time to move on and return to the pack and her friends once again. She travelled to Camp Mojache and took the wind rider to Orgrimmar..

ROCHNAR Born in blood

It was a dull warm night at Northwatch Hold. The guards attention was slacking through their boring hours staring over the sea and the shore. Their gazes enlighted by the pale moon that stood as high as it could get. It were rough times, these...
Food had to come from quite a distance for both Alliance and Horde.
But in Northwatch Hold had come a new shipment of foodcrates earlier that day, delivered from Booty Bay. ‘The Pact’ knew about this, because they have been spying the fortress for days now. ‘The pact’ was a group of three skilled hunters and three crafty warlocks. They used to live together in a small town, but this got overrun by Alliance troops. So they travel around together in order to survive. Their was one female Orc in ‘The Pact’. A warlock, she was the wife of one of the hunters. She and two other Orcish females made sure that they all survived when there was a battle, a fight or a desease among them. ‘The Pact’ had set up their small hidden camp against the cliffwalls, where they were kept safe by the shadows. Campfire was out of order, since they camped so close to Northwatch. This night ‘The pact’ would descent to steal some foodcrates out of Northwatch Hold. Throughout the years they all had learned to move stealthy and fast. But tonight, only five of the six members where going on mission.
A husband, two fathers and their daughters would move out into the fortress of the Alliance, snatch all the food they can carry and get out. Before anyone in the Hold would notice anything, they’d be long gone. But the warlock who was not participating in this mission had a good reason. Her pregnancie had reached the point where she would become a mother and her husband a proud father. Within the deerskin tent she layed upon a selfmade bed of leafs and bearskin, with a happy smile and tears of joy she wished her husband good luck and safe return. ‘The pact’ moved out and not long after they had left, she felt that the time had come. Pain started to gather in her belly and she started to push...
With all the strength she had, she tried to surpress the noise she made during the birth of her son.But at the final push, the pain was unbearable and she let out a loud agonising scream. At Northwatch Hold the guards were alerted by this scream, they rallyed and started to check the horizons. Ofcourse, all guards now stood at attention and it didn’t take long before the rest of ‘The pact’ was spotted within the walls. They never stood a chance, the small army that lived within the fortress took all the joy they could in capturing the Orcs and torture them for the rest of the night. None of them told anything about the mage they had left behind.
To conclusion they got spat under by almost every living man in the fortress, before their throats got slit with the vile blade of the Alliance. As a warning to the rest of the Horde they bound ropes around the wrists of the corpses, the other ends to the studs of the wall. And so they hanged against the Northern wall, their blood seeping out of the slitted vanes.

Within the camp an other tragedy had taken place. The mage had so much conviction that she’d be able to get back on her feet on her own with the help of her healing powers that she didn’t want any other to stay wit her. She was crafty and powerfull, yes. But, her exhaustion had taken control of her body and mind. Her bloodloss was tremendous and no one there to help her. She layed there, alone. Hoping for her husband to return fast enough to safe her from the death she felt coming near. She didn’t even have the strength any more to take her newborn child into her arms. The child just layed on the other end of the bed, still between the legs of his mother in the blood that came out the same body as he did. No one came to save her, she died alone...Not even knowing what her son looked like. His father’s last words were “Stand strong, my son!!” Then his words got cut off by the blade that carved through the flesh of his neck. The small Orcish boy never made a sound, as if he knew he would sign his own deathcharter if he did.

The light from the sun started to oblige the beach, scaring away the shadows that concealed the camp. An old Orc with a large backpack walked over the beach against the cliffwalls so he wouldn’t get spotted by the Alliance on his journey. He was a tradesman, this old Orc. His eyes went so far open as they could get when he spotted the three small tents against the cliffwall. No sign of life to spot over there...suspiciousely he sneaked closer and closer checking the first tent. Two beds, some backpacks, hunter’s gear. But the owners were nowhere to be seen. He checked the second tent and there what he saw in there was unbelievable wretched. A true tragedy, the old Orc’s mouth fell open as he saw the dead body of the Orc woman with the baby still between her legs. The small Orc looked up to the old tradesman and started to cry. He picked up the child and ran away from the camp in the direction of Ratchet. If the guards of Northwatch would hear this howling in the wind they’d definetely move out to seek where it came from. To the tradesman’s own regrets he couldn’t give the mother a proper burial, he had to move fast. After a long walk he finally arrived at Ratchet where he entered the first house he came across, asking for some clean water and something to feed to child. He washed the the little one with such care as if it was his own.

For a young Orc that had only seen twelve summers, this one was quite muscled. His father, named Rochnar, made sure of that by putting the youngster to work every day on the farm they inhabited. The old Rochnar had reached an age where he wasn’t able to do the work himself. At this age, the young Orc’s curiousity started to reach it’ s level. Day after day he asked his father why he never named him, why he never told him who and where his mother is. The old Orc answered every time with the same: “Did you finish your work for today?”
His young companion always took peace with it untill the next day, he asked the same question and receiving the same answer. The two lived together in peace. A bit isolated from the rest of the world, you could say. During cold nights they sat together at the fireplace. Rochnar told the youngster stories of the past. The burning Legion, Draenor, the slavery, the alliance...
He told his young companion about the times he was young. Rochnar used to be a warrior for The Horde. He told tales about glorious battles and how he fought at the frontlines of many wars. He did this while he had his thick war axe resting on his lap, thinking about the blood that used to give his weapon so much joy. The youngster always looked so wonderous at the impressing axe. The old man noticed this for a long time, but still foridded him to touch it.

“Son, I have a surprise for you.” The old Orc called out to the young one.
He remembered it was now exactly 13 years ago that he found the child.
The youngster came to his father and asked him exidetly what it was, he had never been given a surprise before.
“You have now reached the same age as I did, when I learned to forge my first Axe. And in the mourning the blacksmith of Razor Hill will stand at our door to learn you exactly how.” The boy smiled, not saying a word. His own axe, he waited so long to be able to hold one of those and now he’s going to learn to make his own.

Suddenly out of the cold darkness outside there was the galming of a horn. Rochnar looked worried and said: “Son, we’re out of firewood. Run off to Razor Hill and get some!” “But...but, there’s..”.
“But nothing!! I feed you, I give you clothes and chelter, run off.NOW!!!”

The young Orc took his bearskin cloak and went out through the backdoor.
Although, he knew Razor Hill is quite a distance, he obeyed his father and started to run. After a while he felt the wind in his back and the smell of fire filled his nose.
He turned around and saw flames rising from the farm, without thinking he ran back. He entered the farmhouse again through the backdoor. He saw his father laying on the floor, with his hand on his belly. He was laying in a puddle of guts and blood, but his eyes were open. He also saw four tall, skinny, pointy eared creatures carrying a simular creature to their horses outside. The axe also had blood on it and rested in the palm of Rochnar.
The creatures reached their horses and the son approached his father.

“Damn, elves.”He said.”At least I got one of them, if I was younger I’d would have slain them all.” The young one heared there was still anger in the voice of his father.
“What must I do? Tell me...”
“It’s too late...” Rochnar lifted the one hand of his belly showing their was a huge chunk missing.
The boy cried out” But father.”Rochnar interrupted him.
“Curse me, young Orc. I am not your father and this is the reason I never named you. I found you on a bed by your mother.She died giving birth to you.”
“NO!!You are my father!” He yelled throughout his tears.
Hearing this made Rochnar smile and sigh out his last breath.
The young Orc hugged the corpse of the only person he knew.
Then he heard some kind of laughter behind him. He turned around and saw one the Elves standing behind him, laughing at what seemed pathetic to him. He saw the Elve standing there surrounded by the flames that were consuming the home he lived in, this creature murdered his one and only sheppard. The grief made place for anger, the young Orc stood on his feet and tried to lift the axe of Rochnar. The weapon was not made for young Orcs, he could bearely get it off the ground. The Elf laughed even harder seeing this display of futile resistance. The anger kept growing by the noise of the mock and the flames whispered in his ears.”Kill him...Kill him...”
Anger evolved into rage in one second. The young one roared with all the emotions he felled and swinged the heavy axe to the Elf. The creature did not expect this and the axe planted itself in it’s chest, throwing his body to the floor.
The other three had heard the fierce roar and came to inspect. The Orc now took the lighter sword of his enemy, still enraged with a hellish look in his eyes he awaited the elves to enter the burning house. This young Orc was prepared to turn this fire his enemies had brought, into the fire of vengeance, into the fire of a hell he’d create for them.
The threesome entered the doorway and the Orc swinged and stabbed the sword in all possible directions, slaying the surprised Elves to the floor. Without any further thought he lifted the axe once more and chopped all of their heads off. He took these heads outside along with the swords. He walked up to the horse carrying the corpse of the Elf that Rochnar had killed. He smacked the behind of the stallion and it started to run. Someone was bind to come it across and this would let anyone know of the tragedy that had happened.
The young Orc planted the swords in the ground in front of the collapsing burning building and rammed on each of the four swords a head of his now sworn enemies.

Owning nothing but what he wears and carrying Rochnar’s axe, he walks away from his home. Into the direction of Razor Hill. When the mourning arrived, he was still walking, gazing to his front with stone cold empty eyes. He arrived at Razor Hill where a big Orcish hand suddenly grabbed him by his shirt. It was the blacksmith that was supposed to come to the farm. Ironicly he was the one that found the horse with the dead Elf on it’s back.
He had already been to the farm, finding it burned to the ground. The blacksmith tried to get a word out of the young Orc, but he didn’t say a word. Nevertheless, the smith had a suspicion that this was the one who slaughtered them all. Rochnar was too old to could have done this. This smith was about the same age as Rochnar, they were brothers in battle and both chose to take it easier as their age went up. But this youngster, this was warrior material.
It didn’t take long before a warrior trainer arrived and took the Orc with him to The Den. Here he would get filled with weaponstraining, controlling rage, being merciless and brutal. Four years they trained him before they released him into this world. And untill that very day he was released no one asked him for his name, but when they did...he answered: “Rochnar, my name is Rochnar.”

On Petarda

Petarda is an orphan raised at the Orphanage of Orcgrimmar, and this is all she remembers of her childhood. Her first memories are of that place, of the other boys and girls mocking her, calling her names and even in some times hitting her. She grew as a lonely little orc that knew nothing but suffering. When the time came when she had to start learning she was awkward, shy and poorly concentrated on the task at hand. So her tutors thought she was not bright enough to learn anything really useful, therefore she spent most of the time sit on top of the walls staring at the plains outside the city, or at the guard towers, silently watching everything around, yearning for something she couldn't quite grasp. And so the years passed.

One day she got determined to emulate the guards of the city, strong, brave and respected by everyone, so started taking lessons in fighting and swords. She trained most hours of the day till the bruises in her body hurt so much she couldn’t sleep, but she grew stronger than ever. She enjoyed the lessons so much and the activity that she decided to leave the city in search of more new ways to improve. She gathered her few possession and departed to unknown lands. Wandering…exploring… staying here and there whenever she found someone who could push further her training and increase her skills and abilities. She learned about many things, the War between the Horde and the Alliance, the Burning Blade, and many more other phenomena of the world...

In one of those travels she met a tauren Druid that introduced her to the Guild named Santa Compaña. They were a friendly group of adventurers that welcomed her and gave her comfort and something near a family. Something she never had met before. The tauren druid looked after her and taught her the most important lesson Petarda could have learned: Tenderness and Friendship. But still, despite they were like brothers to her, she felt sometimes the necessity to wander away all alone, still she didn't feel complete or in peace with her spirit. This, the druid noticed and suggested Petarda she should go search someone from a group named Ari Scara, and talk to him or her; encouraging her even to leave Santa Compaña if she felt the need to, promising they would still be her friends.

So she did, Petarda stayed attentive and one day, introduced herself to a member of the pack, and that is where she is now. (Fragment of a letter found in the Thunder Bluff inn)

Sensehoof tells his story

Well, it isn’t much to tell about my years of growth, but I can tell you about when I was born and my childhood. It all started when my mother and father met, at the bank in Thunder Bluff...
My father was about to purchase another slot in addition to his former slots in the bank, from the bankier that stood in front of him.
- Damn! I don’t have enough money for this!
-May I ask what your problem is Mr……?
-Grumphoof, Jebb Grumphoof.
As you surely understand, my father did not have enough money, so…
- That is not a problem Mr. Grumphoof, I will loan you some money.
So, the first lead to the other and so on, and it didn’t last long before I was born. My father was rather proud about me, and he taught me to fight, and I was with him all day long, until my mom became ill, and my father was desperate! He was drinking a lot, and he often travelled to Booty Bay to buy booze, and left me behind with mom…
This was the not so good part of my childhood, and it didn’t go so well either when my mom died just two weeks after my father left.
Now I was on my own… I was raised by a couple, called the Kassen’s. I really liked them, and I almost forgot about my own father and mother for a while. But of course, that is a hard thing to forget...
As I grew up, I learned how to use maces and staves, both one-handed, and two-handed. When I was old enough, I left for Thunder Bluff. That was a place I’d just heard about in my father’s fairy-tales and, of course, how mom and dad met...
Well ahead, I met a girl Tauren, called Crahli. She was a nice girl and helped me on my way to Thunder Bluff. When we reached Thunder Bluff, we met an, well I don’t know if I’m allowed to Say this… but, ehm, old Tauren. His name was Mintaurden, and I can remember he asked me what my weapon of choise was.
Hehe, I suppose I was scared, because I did not answer him. He had to move on, and me and Crahli bought a house in Thunder Bluff. On day, I heard that the Darkmoon Faire was coming to town. I had heard stories about the Darkmoon Faire, and that they were recruiting new members. I had learned some tricks' from Crahli and also the Elder Taurens in Thunder Bluff. I ran down to the Goblins who were recruiting the members, and when I showed them my tricks', they were overexcited!
I taught to myself that this was the beginning of something big. One day I overheard that they had to throw some of the Darkmoon Faire members out from the circus, and I was really scared that I, could be one of them.
Now that I had left Crahli behind in Thunder Bluff, who would take care of me?
When the day came, I was one of the thirteen others that that had to leave. I was literary kicked out on the streets, and I felt miserable. But...there, Mintaurden and Crahli, stood before me. Crahli told me that it was time to move on to the big orcish city, Orgrimmar. When we reached Orgrimmar, Crahli and I were all alone, and no-one cared about us. When I was there I thought about my loneliness, and I don’t think I would have made it if it wasn’t for Crahli…
But there was more to come. Crahli suddenly had to leave, and I was left behind, with nobody to take care of me. But I stood up the fight, and I suddenly found myself in The Barrens. I got tasks to do, and I earned my own money.
I followed my father’s footsteps and joined groups to The Wailing Caverns, to fight against beasts from the deepest within the caves. Some of those tasks was to hard for me to do alone, so I got help. From a big Tauren who carried pain in his chest and the weapons he slayed the beasts with. And he slayed them with such wrath! When the beasts in the area were no longer a challenge, I went on to Ashenvale, there was more defiant beasts, so I could get a lot more experience in terms of fighting.
The Tauren I was talking of, was a Tauren called Painhoof, and it was through him I would later join the Ari Scara...

Bala's Story

I was born of Rainhoof Proudhorn and Marigold Blacktail. I had one elder sister named Vailor, who was born weak, yet extremely brave. We where happy for a year or so...
Then my mother disappeared, and my father was troubled. He searched for a year... And he found her. Dead. With no traces of the cause. He lost heart that day, but he still brought me and my sister up as best he could. He taught us the only thing he could; how to hunt. After a while, he suddenly wanted to make a difference in the world.
My sister came of age, and left us. I saw her very seldom.
Rainhoof got into politics. He wanted to have peace between the horde and the alliance.
He used to talk to me for hours... Telling me stories of the Hero Cham Ashen-Far.
And of all the good that would come if we could have peace. He contacted all alliance races, in a fair offering of peace.
One day, only months before I came of age, he got a letter. It was from the Defias leader. Edwin van Cleef. He wanted to meet my father to discuss a peace treaty. My father was overjoyed, and went with some of his closest friends.
A week later, one of them came back, half dead. They had been betrayed. Mr Van Cleef had thought my father a threat against his war on Stormwind, and had removed him.
My father’s remains had been scattered across the Deadmines in Westfall. Not long after the sole survivor died, and I swore my revenge.

I finally became of age myself..
I left my childhood home, Mulgore, and saw many of the sights my father had told me about.
A wolf came to me then, and he followed me. I took him up on his offer of friendship.
He became my best friend and confidant. I named him Tardain, after a elven heroine that my father that told me of.
I met a tauren male too. I fell in love. But he left me and as time passed I believed him dead.
One day I came back to Bloodhoof... An enemy showed himself. An evil undead-seeming God-come-flesh named Syrabane. He was torturing some of my tauren brethren, and I felt righteous wrath... I instantly joined my brethren and fought with them.
We lost the battle, but I had shown my worth, so they asked me to join their guild: The Watchers of Azeroth.
In this guild, I found the guild leader to be my mothers true brother, who had broken with my father when he got into politics.
He was overjoyed to find me again, and promptly adopted me.
I was happy for a while, but Syrabane had not forgotten me.
He set two of his minions on me, because he knew I was my guild leaders niece. It would break his spirit if I died.
He sent the two rogues, Shàdòw and Ailèn. Shàdòw I didn’t see much too, but Ailèn stalked me from time to time. I kept finding dead bodies now and then, but I shrugged it of thinking it probably was some bandits taken by other adventurers.
I met a new tauren, a guild brother. He was young and wonderful. But he was too eager to prove himself and died trying.
Then one day, Ailèn attacked. She kept me tethering on the brink of life and death.
And she slew my wolf.
I would have forgiven her for taking me, but.. My beloved wolf...
She killed him, with pain and his love to me.
But when she had gotten what she wanted, she didn’t kill me. She left me, my previous golden fur now turned whiter than new snow.
She thought I had lost all my power, but I was alive.
Alive, and angry.
I painfully awoke each day, until I was strong enough to hunt her down. I wanted to give her as much pain as she had given me, but... I couldn’t. I saw her love for her evil Lord. And I knew the only thing that could defeat him, was love. So...
I released her from her pain of unlife. Giving her the embrace of the Earthmother.
I soon became strong enough to avenge my father, and search for his bones. I have avenged many times, and have most of the remains now.
I met a third man, my Grasshopper. He proved himself faithful and more than adequate, even for my adopted father. We are engaged.
Shádów proved to be a friend, not an enemy. The bodies I had found where assassins, sent for me, that he had slain. Shádów proclaimed his love for me, and I was taken back.
Yet, I could not return his love, and all he wanted was to be close to me. He knew he could never have me.
Yet he is always there. You can feel him by the slight scent of cinnamon.
Yet. I was not happy. Cham, my childhood Hero, and adult friend, had wanted me to be the conscience of the Horde. He knew if I was, there would never be war. He talked often of the Covenant, and his friends there.
I therefore contacted them. After som initial misunderstandings, I chose the Ari Scara, and asked them humbly to accept me.
When they did. I was very happy.
I now search for a new meaning and new purpose to my existence. And some new friends.

Scraps of life - Irinn’s tale

Once upon a time there was a Zandalar Troll warrior. While he was wanderin’ through the world he fell in love with a Zul’Farrak troll, witch doctor – Ixinna. They wanted to be together but all the tribe thought that the pair will be cursed ‘cause of the unlawful relationship. When they had a child (this was my bro’- Yix) the Chief wanted to sacrifice him to take off curse to be. A brave Troll hunter – master Keen’relay one of the Revantusk tribe rescued the child from the alter. He took him and trained in the ways of hunter.
Ixinna was pregnant again and the two Trolls had to run away, otherwise they would be killed. They have traveled threw the lands sufferin’ from lack of food and coldness, finally stoppin’ in a small village at the coast of Durotar - Sen’jin, almost dead ‘cause of the exhaustion. The same night they came there in the sheen of dawn she gave birth to a trollish girly- it was ma.
The father named both of the children after parts of their mum’s name. He luwed her so much that he wanted their names to remind him about her.
The mother became a doctor of the village and the father a guard of the area.
The little Trolly seen him rarely ‘cause he was riding around on him black raptor protectin’ the weak ones who needed help. The mother taught her daughter all that she knew about healin’.
***
I’m in some way similar to the sunburned, scorchin’ hills of the land I’ve been growin’ in. I’m a spitfire – always doin’ before thinkin’, without any patience and getting’ angry really quick. I’m like a flame. I may be this kinda person ‘cause of my fathers genes – I hear that the Zandalar tribe are “fire-natured”.
***
When I was a child I luwed sittin’ at the coast gazin’ at the forests of the Echo Isles. They were so green, full of trees. It was a phenomenon for me; a Troll rose up in the desert with almost no plants. I luwed goin’ there alone, sittin’ surrounded by nature. I think it was the only thing that could calm down my wild soul. I also think that’s the reason I wanted to become a druid, to learn the ways of nature. But have ya eva seen a Troll druid?
It was impossible. My mother wanted me to become a warrior as my dad was. I chose to be a shaman-healer to associate these two ideas.
***
My parents were still persecuted ‘cause of their different ancestry. Everybody knew where they are from and what they have done.
When I was sent to The Valley of Trials to be subjected to a probation to check if I’m worth to become a shaman, it was the reason why I wasn’t treated well. Also I am a little bit too frank. Always sayin’ exactly what I think. Frankly, nobody really appreciates when ya say what is wrong with them… Anyway, tests said I’m quite talented and I knew a lot about healin’ already. I started trainin’. My contemporaries didn’t like ma and the trainers demanded from ma more than from the other children. In the result I started to live with my dreams. Upon from that, I learned a lot and with pleasure, but these were difficult days full of sweat and tears.
***
Soon after I started to learn in the Valley a letter came to me. It said my parents were murdered by someone of the Zul’Farrak. Somethin’ bad happened to the tribe and their Chief thought that the reason of it was my parent’s relationship. It was a big wound to my heart. I didn’t even cry. It was more than a thing I would cry about. I just haven’t spoken to anybody for a long time. After this I continued my trainin’ normally, but there is still a scar on my heart.
***
When I left the first place of trainin’ I felt relieved. There everything reminded me about my parents.
But now I started to work at my own.
***
I have luck with Taurens. I’ve always had. If I needed help or company there were always a bull to help me. I guess they are just really kind and friendly.
One day I was in Ogrimmar. I desperately needed some leathers for my task. Suddenly, a big and handsome Tauren appeared in front of ma and said:
‘ Hello I’m Mordrin. Here ya are, my lady’ and he gave me the item I needed. I smiled at him. We started to talk and we got to know each other in few days. We was goin’ out together for a while when he asked ma if I want to join his guild.
***
There was Ghazkull, waitin’ for ma at the entrance of the Ring of Valor. I was a bit nervous. It was the first time I would meet the new pack. He welcomed me and we went inside. Mordrin was already there and I felt great sittin’ next to him while Ghazkull introduced me to the members of my new family.

Garudans tale

I was brought into this world by the Earthmother’s Grace near what is now Bloodhoof Village in Mulgore. My tribe tended to the vast plains, and in return the land provided for them. So we lived in harmony, as our ancestors had done, for many years.
Trouble was brewing in our lands. The Centaurs from the south grew more aggressive. We would occasionally get travellers from afar, recounting the tales of what they had seen. A cloud seemed to follow them. We asked for the Earthmother’s guidance and protection in these dark times.
It was in this world, that everything changed.
I was sent to mend a well, far on the edge of our lands. Most of the tribesmen had been sent to aid with a centaur uprising. I was too young to hold a spear and could not join them. I reflected on my age and on the future as I walked across the plains to the well.
I reached the well after a day and a half of travel. The sails were torn and battered and would take time to repair. I locked the sails in place and started to work. It was then that I collapsed. I remember the well falling away from me, the sky looking very clear as I landed on my back, before the world faded out.
I do not remember much of what happened to me… I can only remember the occasional fragment of what I saw. Sometimes it feels that the world reminds me so much of my sleep, but sometimes it does not.
When I awoke, the world had changed. The grass was long around me, the well weather-worn and battered. There was a change in the air that could almost be tasted. The clouds seem to look different. The more I wandered, the more I saw the changes.
In time, I found Sitsi Redthorn, an old friend. She helped me to come to terms with what had happened, showing me new places and people. With her help, along with my newfound family, I have learned to change with the world

Summary of The Book of the Runaway by Ekhemna Vai'Jun

Ekhemna was born deep in the Stranglethorn jungles, in one of the trollish ruins. She was too young at the time to now be able to remember which one.
Her tribe had no sense of love for the young, and every whelp was early weened. Ekhemna never knew her mother, and it was probable that not even her mother knew who her father was. The youngest whelps still had their instincts to sense that something was wrong with this tribe, but in all but Ekhemna this wore off as they got used to their surroundings.
The tribe was lead by a wicked voodoo master named Zanza'khene, and he showed great interest in Ekhemnas strong mind.
He preformed wicked magic, stealing the spirit of every still born child, and using them for his own personal gain.
He had five wives whose spirits he had stolen, and they were left as empty shells only controlled by primal instincts, being his body guards.
When his interest in Ekhemna scared her too much, at the age of ten, she ran away. He had said that she would be beautiful one day and that he would come after her then and makes her his own. She tried to survive on her own in the jungle, but it was more dangerous than expected. As she tried to make her way to Booty Bay, she ran in to the great white tiger of Stranglethorn, who let her live because of her curious talents to understand what he said.
When she wondered why he didn't kill her now when he was sure to win, so he wouldn't risk her killing him if she came back as an adult, he said "It's okay. Everything dies. Sometime." Those words stuck with her for ever since.
Booty Bay was too close to the ruins for her to feel safe, so she got on a ship to Kalimdor, hiding behind crates and sharing food with rats.
Once she reached Ratchet, she struck a deal with a goblin named Kazzax Sparkbolt, which she'd work for him in exchange for her getting food and somewhere to stay.
He was a great engineer, and she learned much from him.
His nasty demeanour got a bit much after a while however, and so she started inquiring for work in other places. When Kazzax heard this he got enraged, and he burned her with his stamp that he used on the wood of his machines, to mark her as his property. Like cattle.
Ekhemna got more proof of his mean persuasion when he took her with him in a great slow machine, over to what she later got to know was Mulgore. There he let his machine tear harpies’ wings off, while they were still alive, and then trample them. She never knew why he did this. She got inspired to learn more engineering, just to beat Kazzax in his own skill, both for his cruelness and because he kept claiming her to be an unintelligent fool.
One day Ekhemna realised her ability to talk to animals had diminished. Even if she could still make herself understood, she couldn't understand them as well anymore.
As Kazzax was being mean to her one day, and fiddling with his new invention - a pure slaughtering machine to be able to kill loads of animals in one go instead of hunting them one by one - she eventually got enraged and hit him with a wrench so he passed out. Having done so, she threw the wrench into the activated machine, shortcutting it.
Seeing the sparks however she got afraid that his other machines would come and hurt her, and so she ran away from there.
She knew he wouldn't follow her, but if their paths ever crossed again she thought that he'd probably send his horrible machines on her, as he did to so many other people that made him angry, or scared.
So she got over to Durotar, and the valley of trials. There she met Madjib, a lovable stray troll. When asking what his last name was he claimed he did not know, because he'd forgotten to ask before he left home.
They both joined the ranks of the horde; she being too young still didn't get questioned. Madjib was a few years older than herself, and they fought side by side.
Having joined the ranks of the horde, Ekhemna got to learn the ways of the hunter - already being skilled with animals. When she'd gotten to the crossroads, she managed to tame a tallstrider whose name was Kix, and they soon became best friends.
One early morning in Orgrimmar she met Nar, who quickly won her fondness by showing her his animal forms. He took her to Ashenvale and told of the emerald dream and the nightmare, and showed her the dragons.
This earned her deep loyalty and trust, even though she found some parts of his kind behaviour a little insulting.
She loves as fiercely as she hates, only really knowing the extreme of both ends. She forms opinions very quickly, and is quite easily affected by others.
To the untrained eye she might seem to have quite a deep crush on Nar, but for anyone who knows better it is apparent that she looks up to him as a role-model, for the things he has told her. A parental or brotherly figure, which she has never known in her entire life.
Nar told her of his family, but thinking about her tribe she was in doubt. However, after having fought at the crossroads side by side, and sitting down by a campfire, she did not doubt when being invited to join his family. And thus she became a member of the Ari Scara.

Mersadion – Warlock of the Forsaken

Screaming, darkness, and the sound of battle, enough to stir even the heaviest of sleepers.

Waking with a start, Theo M. Fenril scrambled from his bed, tripping over the many scrolls and volumes that littered his floor. He flung open the heavy shutters of his home – and froze, a thousand questions surged through his mind, who, what…why.

The town guard were barely mobilised, children were screaming in homes all across Stratholme – Knights bearing the seal of The King were riding into homes, trampling any who got in there way. Theo recognised friends in the melee, friends, barley recognisable….limbless – lurching through the town like something from a nightmare.

Theo slammed the shutters closed, no sooner had he done so the sound of splintering wood filled his home, voices barking orders
“THEY ARE ALL INFECTED….SLAY THEM ALL….GIVE NO QUARTER!”.
Theo rushed to the door of his room, a futile gesture in all honesty. The door was destroyed in one swing of a sword. Soldiers filled the room – soldiers of The King – none of this made sense.
“Please….what is all this….I…”
The sentence was never finished, Theo fell, broken….his blood staining the pages of his latest work…one incidentally he really wasn’t happy with….not that any of that mattered any more.

DARKNESS

A WHISPER

A VOICE

HYPNOTISING

Theo stirred – the stench of death filled his nostrils – not that it bothered him in the slightest - as he stood, he took in his surroundings, some kind of catacomb….he looked at his hands….decay….flesh hanging from his bones, Theo fainted, only he didn’t. He felt…different…his will was steeled, a new vigour flowed through him he felt…..powerful.

Still he heard her voice in his mind, he had to learn more. Venturing from the crypt he found others…..stories were being exchanged.
“Welcome” a particularly desiccated individual nodded at Theo. “Who might you be?”
An interesting question Theo thought…who was he…he pondered it for a moment
“I am, Mersadion” Theo replied a thin smile spreading across his greyed lips “yes Mersadion, that is who I am”.

Theo Mersadion Fenril – Writer, poet, lover – “The nicest lad you’ll ever meet”…my god, how many times had he heard that.
An only child – to a family he hadn’t spoken too in years – a family of soldiers – all too much like hard work for Theo.
Theo dispised his middle name – the name given to him by his mother and father. It was somewhat of a talking point late at night with his friends.
“So come on Theo, when you going to tell us what the “M” stands for?”
“Marvellous, Miraculous…..” these were the common replies

This change of circumstances (if you will) had changed the once placid. carefree Theo Fenril he felt eager…hungry.

Casting off the WEAKLING that was Theo Fenril – Mersadion sought power, he buried himself in tomes, learned of the demon world…of the power that dwelt in the dark places of this world……he relished his place in the Forsaken. One thing he was sure of, where there was power…he would be

Kalour Sproketspring the Hunter

Kalour was brought up by a small goblin in Gadgetzan, known as the Sproketspring. Kalour was found washed upon the beach just south of Steamwheedle port. An engineer named Nixx was tinkering with his gadgets, he decided to take a stroll down the beach to clear his head of schematics and plans. As he turned to look how far he had gone he noticed someone had stolen his schematics from the docks but he also heard a faint cry of a child in the air. He made the choice of giving up his life’s work for a gut feeling that this child may be hurt, so he left what looked like a dwarf to steal is work and ran to the cry, as he got closer he saw a large straw basket. He ran to see what noise came from, as he came closer he saw that there was a baby Tauren in the basket with a piece of paper clipped to the top it said ‘Kalour’. He took the paper as stuffed it into his pocket and dragged the basket to Steamwheedle port, from there he gets a ride of a local in the back of a half empty fishing trailer, back to Gadgetzan.

As Kalour grew to the age 14 at an early age saw that he did not fit in at the schools and in the cities his dad took him to. So Kalour asked his father where he came from and why he was there, his father explained how he was found and where his people came from. So later that night Kalour snuck out and made his way to the Freewind post hopping to find his family or someone that my know of them. As he reached the lift’s he saw that the Centaur were attacking the Freewind post so he ran where he came from and saw that more were coming and ran towards The Great Lift. As he got free he saw that he could not go the way he came, so he followed the path but he came to a split in the road with no signs he took his chance and followed the path left which led him towards Feralas. As he got closer to the woods of Feralas he noticed a small band of Night Elves dressed in black, before he could hide one looked you gazing in his direction and spotted him. The elves vanished into a cloud of smoke, Kalour looked around him in panic for the Elves, wondering if they were plotting to attack him or leave him alone. With this in mind Kalour started to run, as he did he saw a large mysterious shadow with in the woods, as he ran he became fixated on this figure and did not see the Elf waiting for him, as Kalour passed he turned as he heard a whisper in the air, the Elf wounded Kalour in the chest with his dagger. As Kalour fell he saw this bright light shine in the air and saw the Elves surrounding him, as he hit the ground he fainted, as the pain of the wound of the wound was too much.

As Kalour awoke he heard is father talking to someone, as he opened his eyes he saw that he was in a familiar room and looked around and saw the shadowed figure again as his eyes adjusted he saw what looked like a small Ogre, but also like an Orc. He began to panic, but he realised that his father was talking to this Ogre/Orc, Nixx saw that Kalour was awake and ran over to him. Nixx asked him
“Why Kalour, why did you run away that you know how dangerous it is out there?” The Ogre/Orc said “Don’t be to harsh on the boy he has only just awaked, from what would seem like a nightmare” As the Ogre/Orc left he said
“Your boy has what it takes to become a great hunter. I Rexxar of the son Mok’Nathal will train him when he become of age.””
Then Rexxar left the house.

Six years passed and Kalour is celebrating his 20th birthday having fun drinking with the locals of Gadgetzan. When Kalour returns home he sees a familiar shadow in the distance and the shadow says
“You are now of age you will come and live with me as a hunter, you will learn how to survive with nature”
Nixx expected this day to come but not so soon, and waved good bye to his son as he walked into the dark night.

Thus Kalour began his training and the search for his parents...

Shacho Thwomphoof

It’s hard to forget my coming of age ceremony. I had waited for so long. It’s the day when everyone in your village gathers and gives you a gift. I got some great things to put in the back pack my mother had sewn for me. But then I got the best gift of them all. Our village Elder requested my presence in his hut. He told me that all strong Tauren must chose a path and with that He laid four weapons in front of me.
”The weapon you choose will determine the disciplines that I shall train you in. Please take your time and choose wisely”
There was a huge maul, a weapon of great strength, to be wielded only by the strongest warrior, a small mace, for a shaman so he can keep a hand free for his shield and for dropping totems, a wooden staff, the choice of the druid to help him focus as he contorts nature to his desires, the fourth was a small chopping axe.
As I gazed at it, I began to understand its simplicity. It was a compact and light weapon, yet if kept sharp it was as swift and deadly as any blade. There was more to it though, it symbolised survival, not only could I kill my targets, I could *do* things with it. I could chop wood for fires; I could craft traps to thwart my foes. It offered a world of possibilities.
”This one” I nodded as our elder pointed at the axe.
”This young Shacho, this is the weapon of the Hunter. You will follow the most noble of paths. A hunter is driven by his lust for the hunt, the chase, the kill. You’re training begins in the morning when you will draw your first blood. Rest until then Shacho, tomorrow will be very special”

My Elder marked a Plainstrider with a red ”X” on it’s beak and then release it into the plains surrounding our village. I was tasked with tracking it and returning with its beak. I walked the plains for a day or so, observing the Plainstriders. I had a hard time getting close to them, they were fast and timid. It didn’t take much to spook them and then that was it, they ran. I studied them closer, what they ate, when they slept, how they grouped and how they defended one another. After much searching I found the one my Elder had marked as it slept and gave it a mark of my own, I smeared a hand full of war paint across its left side and ran before the flock tore me apart. Now I could see it from hundreds of yards If I could kill it at a distance I would be one step closer to achieving my goal I remembered that above the fireplace in my home was a bow that belonged to my father, I knew that he would have wanted me to use it to claim my first blood.

The next day I returned to the plains with my bow and some arrows that I had crafted using my axe. I saw the marked bird, drew my bow, and let off an arrow the seconds felt like hours as I watched the arrow cut through the air and finally stab deep into its chest. With its lungs punctured - it fell to the ground gasping and choking. The other Plainstriders scattered in fear of suffering the same fate. I walked over calmly and claimed my prize, the beak of the Plainstrider was placed in my backpack and I walked back to the village, standing as tall as the tallest tree.

When I arrived in the village, my Elder was stood awaiting me.
”Well done Shacho, this is a big moment for you. You have stalked and killed your first prey. Come closer, I need to mark you with its blood before it dries” I knelt before him as he dipped his fingers into the beak like a pot of paint then marked my face with the Plainstrider’s cold red blood.
”Rise Hunter Shacho, we have much work to do and you have only just begun”

I have killed many since then, my first years were spent killing the beasts of Mulgore for the good of the village. I was also tasked with thinning the numbers of encroaching enemies like Harpies and Quilboar. Since this I have moved on to stronger prey, The spiders of Stonetalon, the Furbolgs of Ashenvale. The yeti’s of Hillsbrad and more recently the Raptors of Stranglethorn.
Along the way I have also hunted specific people and beasts for reasons personal to those whom hired my services. Much blood has been shed and I have trained myself to be a keen bowman and leatherworker. I have not done it alone though, Some time ago whilst hunting a great Wolf I found myself in a new position. After a lengthy well matched fight, the beast laid wounded at my feet awaiting my killing blow. Its eyes were still burning with the pride of knowing it put up the best fight it could and give it everything. It was at that moment that I decided to spare the beasts life. I carried it back to my camp where I healed and nurtured the beast until it was fit to fight again. I took it to the location of our original battle and set it loose so that we could fight again but it lay down at my feet. This beast was now tame. I trained it to obey me and found it more than useful. The beast would fight my target and keep it occupied whilst I stood back and took my time to land better aimed shots. This beast was now my greatest weapon.

I have been adventuring since, stalking the raptors of Stranglethorn, skinning their hides and crafting them into armour for other adventurers.

During my adventures I have been in groups with many other warriors from all over Azeroth but the bravest have all shared a common mark, The mark of the Spirit Wolf; The Ari Scara. I was intrigued by these people; they had equipment and training no better than any other, yet they fought harder than anyone and when they were together with others of their pack their strength grew further. I approached a member of their coven and was invited to join I had to take this opportunity, I had to become a member of their wolf pack. I knew that with the strength of the wolf I would be stronger than ever before.

Ayasha Whitehorn a.k.a Lilroar

Hello my name is Ayasha Whitehorn, but you all know me as Lil Roar. I suppose I should start with how I got my name. When I was just a little pup I was often wondering of and causing mischief. On one of these little adventures I found myself a friend, from what my parents told me they found me curled up with a small prowler cub, from then on I was always known as Little Roar or as you know me now Lil Roar.

I grew up with my family watching and learning their trade of skinning and tanning. My life back then was simple but happy. Most of my days were spent helping my father out with the animals, and he started to show me the ways of the Earth Mother. And so the years past until one day the call came for my father to venture of on behalf of the Cenarion circle to investigate strange disturbances at the gate into the emerald dream at Bough Shadow in Ashenvale. We heard nothing back from him for several days we were beginning to grow anxious having not heard anything at all. Finally news was brought back to us by another druid from the bluffs, but we could tell from his approach that it was not good news. He told us of my fathers fate... corruption had spread amongst the mighty green dragon flight and the have broken through from the dream into Azeroth. The party sent to investigate had stood no chance against the dragon named Emeriss. Two days later my father’s remains were returned to the Earth Mother. It was on that day I swore to kill Emeriss and avenge my father’s death.

Having just lost her husband my mother refused to let me go off to train as a druid. More and more arguments broke out between us, but I refused to let this stop me completing my vow. A few days later I packed my few belongings and headed off to Bloodhoof village. There I started my training and learnt the ways of the druids like my father had done. I progressed quickly and soon found myself leaving Mulgore for the first time in my life. Having reached the Crossroads I was feeling excited at the prospect of new places ahead of me, but I was already missing a place to call home. Realizing my training would carry me far and wide a normal home would be of little use to me. It was then that I met Nar who told me of his pack. It seemed that I had found a new home, somewhere I could belong.

Greave - Being dead, but not really..

Day one
Darkness...cold harsh darkness…not just your ordinary everyday blocked light darkness, but the very absence of light, as if it’s scared of something and doesn’t want to show it’s face..
That’s what I saw when I opened my eyes…well, I think I opened them, since I didn’t see anything. I tried to stand, but hit my head on the ceiling...
“Low ceiling” I thought to myself “perhaps I’m in a cellar”.

I couldn’t be more wrong...

I tried to find a way out, towards the light...there was no way out...I was trapped...

Day two
Darkness...still no light...not much room to move, and no food or water...
Sound…as small stones hit the ground in a strange tempo…
I slammed my hands on the ceiling, walls and ground trying to get attention.
And attention is what I got...
The ceiling opened up...light poured into my “cellar”...

As my eyes grew used to the flood of light I discovered my cellar really was a coffin.
I took a look around the area; I’m in the woods...
I hear a voice...a grating voice, as if it’s been used for an eternity...I look behind me and see a corpse! Walking and talking to me in a language I never heard before, yet I could understand every word she said...
“Are you okay?” she asked. Slightly scared I answered “y-yes…I think so.. w-where am I?”.
The lady didn’t say anything...that frightened me even more..

My fingers where cold…I looked at my hands and saw…
BONES!! And rotting flesh! “WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?” I shouted.
The lady introduced herself as “Mirar” she tried to calm me down.
Soothing words didn’t make any difference, and she knew that.
She told me to go to Deathknell, and things would come clear there…

I went to sleep..

Day Three
I wake up, in the church of deathknell, apparently...
A figure walks up to me and says “I’m Sarvis, shadowpriest and your guide trough the first couple of days young forsaken”
“Forsaken?!” I think to myself “is that how they call themselves?”
He tells me what happened, though I did not listen…the word “forsaken” keeps haunting my mind..

Am I truly dead now, what happened to me?

I couldn’t remember anything…

Still I don’t know who I was, what I was…and what I am now…

Sarvis asked me if I had a name…I tried to remember.. but I couldn’t..
He said that “Greave” would suit me just fine, and I liked the ring of it…
“Greave” it sounded…dark…sinister...strong…
I myself added the name Kuollut to it…I was told later that it meant “Dead” in a foreign language. Found it quite funny, really...

The day ended…

Day four
Sarvis woke me up, telling I was needed at the church.
Since I didn’t knew what he was on about, I listened to him and followed him to the church.
I was asked to slay Scarlet Crusaders…
I didn’t feel any hate against them, so I asked why on earth they wanted to do that…
Sarvis and his servant explained one and another to me, and I agreed with them.
I went to slay humans…
There was only one problem…how? The shadow priest directed me to his servant. She could teach me some tricks…asked me if I had any strange feelings the last couple of days…
I told her my fingers where quite cold, and things around me started to move somewhat slower…“frost powers” she said to sarvis.
“So, you’re a mage”, he told me...mages have great powers, not as much as me though.

He laughed

Day five
I was needed in Brill, sarvis told me…something to do with the crusaders…
So away I went, and as soon as I left the safety of Deathknell I met Gordo…
He’s a nice abomination, though...a bit on the slow side...collecting the wrong kind of herbs.
As I helped him, I made it to Brill. I started to talk to a couple of guards and inhabitants. All needed favours of me…though the rewards where quite nice.
I helped most of them, gathered a small amount of money and bought myself some fresh meat…

A tendril of drool runs down my chin, thinking of that delicious meat...

I started to feel lonely without the creepy but familiar Sarvis around me.. I longed for some friends...a tribe...a pack...
I called out to the people in Tirisfall glades, and there was no reply..
I tried a catchy line, some reactions…someone liked it…I got contacted by someone…
She called herself Állya. She told me to contact a brave Orc named Ghazkull…
She seemed quite friendly so I obeyed and contacted him. At first I was a little bit scared, since I heard he was a powerful person. I was quite honoured to talk to him, and to be invited to a meeting two days later…

Day six
A dull day...awfully tired…
Things kept haunting my head…why’d I become what I am…what did I do to deserve this.
I cried…I cried so hard my head did start to hurt…
I stopped and thought…I thought about crying and how it usually made my head hurt…
I REMEMBERED SOMETHING!
I got scared...why doesn’t my head hurt?!
I took a better look at myself in the mirror at the Inn I was staying in…
I saw my kneecaps...no flesh...
My hands where all rotten...elbows…no flesh…shoulders sticking trough my clothes…
All these wounds and no blood? No wonder my head didn’t hurt…
I started to see the advantage.. I AM dead.. no more time wasted because of food, and drinks..
Don’t need to watch my figure…the law couldn’t grab me...I realised I was a free man!
A free man with powers...my frost skills increased a lot during these days…
As did my fire power...though, I preferred the coldness of frost.. it reminded me of my first day as forsaken…cold and dark destroying power…that, I am…Greave Kuollut.
I shouted at the world ”I AM GREAVE, AND I AM FREE!!”
some people started to complain about the noise.. little did I care..
I started a victory dance

Day seven The day started late for me…
I danced and partied all night…
I woke up in Brill, in a coffin next to the inn…I remembered I needed to be somewhere…
The meeting. THE MEETING!
I was going to be late...LATE! I hurried my way to the Zeppeling tower in Brill…nearly took the wrong airship…arrived in Orgrimmar…way to late!
Contacted Ghazkull...apologising…
He said the meeting was nearly over...I felt quite sad…
Luckily he could stall it a bit for me…I got there late, listened to Nard’s story…
Then I introduced myself, and Ghazkull himself invited me into the pack.

I felt like 1000 gold!

From this day forward I’m a proud member of Ari Scara…

Shateen

Named after my grandma i was. A proud troll that all way was there for our family in warm jungles of Stranglethorn. I grow up there with my mother, father, his mother and my younger brother. I was meant to stay there and learn how to drive on of these balloons.
I was worthless on it, I had such a trouble with the different maps, and when my mother died in a battle with a human in the jungle, dad sent me away to Mulgore to start train and become.. a what he calls it "revenge machine".
But I never became that either, my training started and my eyes shined up like flames when i saw the talent I got for it. But still.. the maps...

I was standing all alone in the big city of the orcs and trolls. Ogrimmar... I don’t know where to find the man i was going to delivery a packet to. I felt lost, and when I tried to ask someone they didn’t hear me or just ignored me because I was a small youngster to troll...
But suddenly i saw something in front of me, he tried to smile but instead his face turned into a disgusting grin...
He stared at me and the grin lies on his face, i got a bit scared, he was all bone, no skin, no flesh. But he didn’t hurt me; instead he took me to the man who stood next to the big Thrall waiting for the post.

The undead’s name was Greave, a very nice pal, even if he didn’t look very friendly in my eyes. He talked about a pack of wolves. And told me how they helped him when he was new around. We talked like we had knew each other all life, but i know that wasn’t true, i had never seen an undead before. Anyway, I got nosy on the pack, was they really that nice and fun?

"Lets go and take a drink with them, tusk face, I’m sure you will like them" He said, and i thought, why not?

The pack were really fun, i danced with a tauren two or three times, i heard stories and jokes from a troll with eye patch and an big green orc who gave us drinks.
I felt like home, and they all did cheer me up to the top. Crashya, a troll took a seat next to me, she looked almost exact like me, a bit scary, but still fun.

The troll with the eye patch invited me to their guild meeting the day after, i was nerves like never before, i read in the library and I shook when I finely sat in the ring.

"What does Ari Scara stands for?" I lost everything i had read. i knew it, come on! but i was to stiff and nerves to say wrong. i tried to say it again, but there was no sound from my throat. They was waiting, and the time was going. I had to say it... now!.... now then? NOW! When the eye patch troll, Cajuun, was going to ask someone ells to say it for me f finally let out!

"Spirit wolf...in orcish.." they cheered around be, pat me and laughed. I made it, i was now a part of the pack, a wolf pack! And i hope with all my heart I will stay with them, the great pack, I will ever regret the day I meet and followed Greave to meet, Ari Scara, the pack of wolves.

Now my journey goes on, with a pac on my way to be a great fire mage.

Jekktarr

Born into the wild tribes of the Bloodscalps, Jekktarr, few minutes after his birth heard the cracking sound of his mother’s skull being knocked in, later in his upbringing he was to know she was of Darkspear lineage. He grew up in a little group of the Bloodscalps, settled outside the main ruin. The small pack of trolls were mainly hunters and scouts, lead by a shaman. Jekk was taken under the shamans’ wing in his early years, where he showed great potential. But as he grew, and as his interests grew in other directions, he got tossed aside again. He was then, of course, drastically behind the other trolls, raised as hunters and scouts. He was sent on impossible missions, but time and time again seemed to survive, he was sent to spy on the Skullsplitters, and when he got spotted, managed to flee by running across the crocolisk-filled river. He was put to spy on the goblins, and had in some point during his long waiting hours, attained a ghostly-animalistic shape, which resulted in several goblins put a price on this creatures head as it of course would be worth a lot to the right buyer.

The last time he ever went out for the Bloodscalps, he was sent to the Gurubashi capital, Zul’Gurub, and Jekktarr, not being stupid went on his mission, only to flee to the pirates. He’d spent a lot of time watching these people, and the Brady bunch they were. He came to them, and when the humans first saw his bloodshot eyes, their first instinct was to attack him. With nowhere else to go, he stood his ground, and tossed off the first two pirates, with aid from the totem his shaman tutor had made for him. The next pirates rushed towards him, and the ground seemed to grapple their feet, and a voice speaking an unfamiliar language called, and the pirates stopped. An Orc sitting near the fireplace they all had gathered around got to his feet. The orc stepped up to Jekktarr and looked him over. He then murmured a few more words, and Jekk was knocked out.

Months passed, as Jekktarr worked as a deckhand. The orc who was the boatswain of the ship, was kind enough to teach Jekk orcish words at the end of a whip, each time he didn’t understand them. This has resulted in his very heavy trollish accent. The small fleet of pirate ships, consisting of five boats, were plundering the trade ships that made their way to Booty Bay. Jekk trained the shaman skills while working hard, when water was splashing in, he almost never got wet, the wind always cooled him down in the burning sun. Occasionally they took trips to Kalimdor, around the Barrens area. During a storm on their way back to Stranglethorn, Jekk got thrown overboard, and was knocked unconscious.

He woke up; the beach was deserted, except for the Makrura that woke him up, by deciding to try to pinch his arm off. He made very little attention to it as he broke the head off of it. He could see a small band of huts, and the certain sound of troll drums. He slowly got up and decided to walk to the village. There he found the Darkspears. Several stared at him as they recognized his mother in him. The elder of the tribe sent him to The Den where he was to join the horde, and as he gathered the only partially safe place for him. He were there for a few days before he ran into Naria and her sister Zharisa, the very first people he met in this strange new region of the world, that actually responded to him, though they were a lot more experienced than him.

On his travels he encountered Azooqi, and with her charming personality, and Jekktarrs’ love for flirting, they began spending a lot of time together. Though she already had a man in her life she was about to marry, he couldn’t just let her go on. The man was Zurockhai, Skullsplitter troll, enemies of the Bloodscalps as well. Jekktarr couldn’t get himself to attend the wedding, and so he sat back and waited. Zurockhai didn’t seem to spend much time along with his wife, but Jekktarr did. They were hard to find as individuals. Where one was, the other was close by, and the flirting that were thrown between them, could not go unnoticed. In fact it got so noticed that the demon blood husband of hers, heard the whispers. And so it was, when Jekktarr was standing in Badlands, two persons approached him. A tauren and a troll, the troll with a net gun, should Jekktarr try to flee. So they stood there, waiting for orders from Zurockhai. It seemed that Azooqi had persuaded Zurockhai to spare him. In exchange the next time Jekktarr met up with Azooqi, the flirting was gone, she had vowed not to do so any longer and she would keep her word. Sad, angry and broken, Jekktarr began his training; rid this world of Zurockhai he would, if it was the last he would do. But before he was even close to be able to do so. Azooqi and Zurockhai disappeared. Azooqi had mixed her blood with Zurockhai at the wedding, tainting her with the demon blood in his veins. They had taken a portal, through which their demon would be torn from their body.

Months had passed; Jekktarr had been alone, wandering killing mercilessly, his anger being reflected onto the world, his innocence was gone, so far he had put up with people, he had taken the whip and smiled afterwards, but no more, those who did him wrong should taste the pain he was in. He had made a pact with another troll named Bumiijah, also feeling the stab from Azooqi’s departure, they would punish her for her stupidity should she return. But she didn’t. She sent her blood sister. Jekktarr got contacted by Mookah the Matriarch of the Wyvernpeak tribe, a woman would come bearing news about Azooqi.
And so he sat there, in the back of the cave, pulsing with rage and sadness, as the woman entered, Sheyja. He could see Azooqi in her eyes, her movements were as hers, and obviously they had trained together. His anger reached the boiling point, he yelled and barked at all present, challenging everybody, cursing them all to the outlands. Lexxe stepped up besides him, apparently the only person understanding his misery, made a portal and shoved him into it. Now standing in Undercity, pounding at the walls and yelling at everything, he slowly calmed down. A week passed, he had decided that Sheyja was Azooqi, and she should receive her punishment. But as he spent time tormenting her, he slowly realised that they were not the same person, and his cold heart slowly began to dry for her. Soon Jekktarr spent most his time guiding Sheyja through Azeroth, that he had come to know so well. He showed her all the beautiful places he had discovered in his scouting, all the quiet little places where one could be alone and think. She was a relief in his tormented world. After he escaped from the Bloodscalps, his sole fear was to be alone. And she was keeping him up, almost floating through his day. As his love for her grew, he even began to tell her secrets he had never even thought about telling Azooqi. But she didn’t seem to respond that well to his feelings, almost as if she tried not to.

Jekktarr grinned in his mind as he kissed Sheyja. For a long time he had tried to soften her heart and it seemed she had used just as much power as he, to keep him away, trying to hide the fact that she had feelings. He loved her, and he had already let one love go, he wouldn’t let this happen again. He couldn’t bear it again. He didn’t know how he would do it, but happen it should. He had planned a ritual never used before, with full intention of seeing if he could get Sheyja to make up her mind. Sheyja looked at the wyvernbones he had tossed for her and grinned slightly. All he used was his cunning tongue, and finally his words, along with her naivety, he had forced her to open her eyes, look at her heart and admitting that it was full of love for him. Long time passed, and Lexxe had been infected, more demons around, seven of them Jekk had encountered by now, and the other times his way to cure them was to simply kill the vessel. He was urged not to kill Lexxe, but as he became a danger to Sheyja, Jekktarr could not just stand by. He came to him, before a tribes meeting in the Stonetalon Mountains.

“I guess I had this coming for some time” Lexxe said while looking at Jekktarr.

“Ow, more dan jus’ sum time puny mahn, me gonna take great pleasure in dis.” Jekktarr said while narrowing his eyes.

He walked slowly up to Lexxe, stared him in the eyes, before violently piercing his torso with his tusks. As Lexxe sunk to the ground Jekktarrs’ inner Bloodscalp came up in him, and he began to pound the corpse, biting off a piece of the nose, and tearing off an ear, before getting up, and walked to the cave where the tribes meeting was being held.

Not so long passed, the tribe was falling apart with accusations towards one another. Jekktarr decided that if punishment towards him was what would save the Wyvernpeak, he would stand trial. Most likely death would be what would redeem his act in the tribe’s eyes. He made it through the trial; he had served himself on a platter in front of people that deep down really wanted him gone, and not a single one took the chance, even the victim of his crime, Lexxe had returned to witness this, and even he spoke against Jekktarrs’ death.

A time after, when he sat there, with his still hurting hand that Sheyja had crushed while giving birth, washing his newly born daughter with a wet piece of cloth, his mind was running a mile an hour. All the things he had seen, everything he had tried, and he had never felt this full, never this happy. Sheyja sat a bit behind him, tired after the birth. He gently kisses his daughter, to be named Azooró. After his lost love and Sheyja’s lost sister Azooqi and their common friend Róta, who was also to be Azooró’s second mother should something, happen to Jekk and Shey.

As the Wyvernpeak was slowly dissolving through lack of leadership and lost priorities, Jekktarr felt the need for a change in the winds. He wanted peace for his wife and the mother of his child. And he would seek it amongst friends, and a lot of those were in the ranks of the Ari Scara.

Sheyja

Somewhere over the rainbow way up high...
At dawn the male troll looked deeply in Sheyja's eyes. The nearly orange corona, which circled the dark red iris of his eyes, mirrored the colour of the rising sun. The cold morning wind played lovingly with a strand of her dark hair. Smiling he smoothed the strand back behind her ear and caressed her cheek. The wind carried his voice over the cliffs as he sang softly.
The day is done, the night is gone
No star will light my coming night
My soul embracing death with dawn
My eyes will never see day's light
The day is done, the night is gone
My eyes meet yours, death comes with dawn

Ending his song with a smile he leaned close to her and kissed her lips. Sheyja returned the kiss very gently. The blade of her dagger shimmered red in the first beams of the sun when she cut his throat with a swift motion. For a moment she stared to the tops of the Stonetalon Mountains which where covered in bloodred light. The wind ran through her hair and pulled out the little strand of hair again. For the blink of an eye it caressed her cheek before it was blown across her face. She blinked and the little glittering tear in the corner of her eye rolled slowly down her cheek. It left a moist trace on her blue skin which the northwind dried as quickly as the drops of blood on her hand. Slowly the young amazon warrioress smoothed the strand of hair back behind her ear while she watched her heart turning into a stone as cold as the rocks on which her dead lover lay.

That's where you'll find me... With swift steps Sheyja took the path through the Stonetalon Mountains Azooqi, her bloodsister, had described her. She would reach the cave in some minutes and with that a new life. Sheyja had left her tribe, the Bloodcry amazons, behind, answering Azooqi's plea to take her stead, to uphold her honour. Azooqi had made a promise to Wyvernpeak Tribe to fight with them, thus reclaiming their lands that had been taken by the harpies. Now she had feared not to be able to keep that promise and so she had asked from Sheyja to take her place. Sheyja had waited several weeks but Azooqi had not returned. Something bad must have happened, things must have gone wrong. Frowning slightly Sheyja forced herself to bury her worries deep into her heart. She must be strong now to convince the Wyvernpeaks - and above all Mookah, the Matriarch - to accept her blade, honour, and vows instead of Azooqi's. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath: "Bound by blood, by soul an‘ by bone, promises made older dan stone." She reached the entrance of the cave and looked around. Her eyes fell on a male jungletroll with red hair who sat in a corner and eyed her coldly up and down. Slowly Jekktarr got up and walked over to Sheyja – finally a new victim on whom he could project all the fury and anger he felt since Azooqi had left him alone.

Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops...
Jekktarr had been outright hostile to Sheyja for over a week now. She had tried to talk with him, explain her blood sister’s reasons and wondered how on earth Azooqi got the idea that he was a charming pirate. "Take care of mah heartie, sis", she had said with a smile. Sheyja snorted. He had challenged her patience long enough now. But then slowly things had changed. Jekktarr seemed to enjoy the time he spent in Sheyja’s company as it lifted his spirits. He began showing her lovely places and telling her of his past life, sharing secrets and letting her look at his heart and soul. Often he found himself smiling at her, when she sang for him or told one of her stories. And so it came to pass that one day he found his heart filled with love for the young Amazon.

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me...

Sheyja laughed happily as she kissed Jekktarr. For a long time the Bloodcalp troll had tried to soften her heart and she had fended him off, desperately trying to neglect the feelings she had for him and keeping up the walls she had raised to protect her heart. Ever since her amazon tribe had made her kill the first man she took to her bed, she had forced herself not to fall in love. But Jekktarr, being the sly pirate he was, had played a trick on her. Sheyja looked at the wyvern bones he had tossed for her and grinned slightly. With the trollish ritual he had forced her to open her eyes, look at her heart and admitting that it was full of love for him. Smiling, she looked at him. For the first time in her life she felt truly happy. Whatever life would bring them, they would face it together for all the risings and settings of the sun. Sheyja broke into a smile as she looked into Jekktarr’s eyes that mirrored the happiness that engulfed them both like a soft breeze in the heat of the jungle.

Someday I'll wish upon a star...
Holding tight to Sapphire, her raptor, Sheyja closed her eyes as the peaks of Stonetalon Mountain came into sight. She pictured the majestic mountains briefly in the mind's eye, then opened her eyes again and enjoyed the wave of happiness to return home slowly swashing through her. The last days had been filled with dread and sadness, sorrow and tears. Jekktarr would be put on trial for the murder of Lexxe on the next tribe meeting. It was likely that he was sentenced to death by the tribesmons. The time left for them would be less than a week. A few last days to say goodbye to each other, to cherish the love in their hearts and share the dreams of their souls. A few last days to add new memories to the ones they treasured in their hearts already. A few last days of happiness, laughter and love instead of sorrow, tears and thoughts of parting. A smile crossed Sheyja's lips as the reply of Jekktarr drifted to her mind when she asked of him to squeeze the lemon to the last drop. "Ah decided to throw away da lemon an' take da orange instead, Shey."
The stars glittered on the dark night sky as they both stood on the top of the mountain of Malaka'Jin. Here Jekktarr had tossed the wyvernbones for her. She felt the soft touch of the wyvern bones around her neck; he had given her as a lucky charm. A memory hold dear in her heart and they would add a new one now by marrying each other. A few last days as wife and husband...
They had no ceremonies to follow for she was a Bloodcry Amazon and was never meant to marry and he was a Bloodscalp who simply take a woman to their hut. They had to follow their hearts. Looking Sheyja in the eyes, Jekktarr took his dagger and cut his palm, offering the dagger to her. With a quick motion she also cut her palm, leaving a thin dark red line. He dipped his finger in the pool of blood that gathered swiftly in the palm of his hand and began to draw the pattern of his facial markings on Sheyja's face with tender movements. When he had finished she followed his example, tracing his markings with her blood. Lovingly they caressed each other's lips with their blood, colouring them dark red. Jekktarr ran his blood covered finger across Sheyja's lips, down her throat and her chest while she spoke: "Me choose ya as mah soulmate in life an' death, Jekktarr Can'jin. Me bind mahself to ya for all eterniteh." Looking into her eyes, he replied: "Me choose ya as mah soulmate an' life companion, Sheyja - Found Lovah. Me will stai wid ya 'till time is nah more." Smiling, Sheyja leaned closer to kiss Jekktarr, whispering softly: "We share life, luv an' death." He pulled her into his arms, answering: "We share 'appiness, sorrow an' peace." "We share butterflies in da belly an' cherry pies under a blue sky." "We share da song in oor souls an' da fira in oor hearts."
They didn't notice the single falling star, glittering for the blink of an eye like a glowing tear drop on the black night sky, as they kissed not their lips but their souls. A few last nights...

And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true...
Grimacing painfully Jekktarr let the healing glow flow through his squashed hand. Sheyja was still in labour and seemed to be more than fond of sharing her pain with him. Twice she had already hit his upper arm – but soon their daughter would be born. And after that they would approach Ari Scara to take the three of them into their pack after Mookah had decided not to follow the path of the Matriarch of Wyvernpeak Tribe any longer. Helplessly he looked at Sheyja who hunched down again and moaned with pain. "Breathe, womahn!" Sheyja clenched her teeth. "Dat be all ya fault, pirate!", she glared at him.
Later Jekktarr smiled as he looked down at the newborn baby. Carefully he bound a strand of his hair around the umbilical cord and cut it with his dagger. Sheyja beamed with happiness as she smiled at the child in her arms. Her name would be Azooró Can’jin, a name to honour her dead bloodsister Azooqi and Róta, her second mother – an old tradition of her amazon tribe. She would take care of the child in case something happened to Jekktarr or her. Sheyja smiled and gently stroked the soft baby skin. Azooró was a perfect little girl, who had inherited the hair of her father and hopefully the nature of her mother. Regarding her parents she would be quite the charmer. Sheyja grinned slightly at the thought of all the headaches Azooró would give her father and all the poor suitors he would try to chase off by barking at them.
Tired she sat in the shadow of the tree and watched Jekktarr wash his daughter very carefully in the warm water of the jungle river. A soft breeze stirred the leaves of the trees and made little sunspots dance on the little family. Sheyja smiled. An open road lay before them, filled with adventure and love. Time may pass, fortune may smile, trials may come, no matter what, they would travel the road together, both when it was hard and when it was easy.

Zudja story as told by her

Da name be Zudja Garrin'. Ah was born wit da mountain trolls, bu' mah muthah be Darkspear. Mah famileh be mostleh Mages, bu' mah sistah Rizalié an' ah, had more talent wit da beasts dan anehtang else.
Ah guess ah quickleh undahstood how important da war be, 'cause me mutha be caught by dem elves, an' ah nevah saw 'er 'gain. Ah was'na caught because ah hid in da mountains. Ah'll nevah ferget it, an' ah hate dem elves fer it. Alwais did. So, soon as ah was readeh, ah went tu Durotar tu join da war.
Me two cousins was alreadeh in da war, both shamans, an' dey was guud at it alreadeh when ah started mah trainin'. Bizzgul was one o' dem.. he latah disappeared. Dunno tu where.. Bu' da otha be Jekktarr. Dey introduced meh tu Yirrah.
Dey helped meh alot. Yirrah used tu supply meh wit leatha armor, an' Bizz an' Jekk wuuld help me oot wit tasks all da time. We had sum great times. Us four, we started da Pack. We used tu meet up wit new membahs in Razor Hill, an' we'd talk tu 'em in da Barracks. We was is da Wyvernpeak Tribe shortleh before da Pack realleh got on its feet, Jekk stayed dere mostleh.. Ah was beta wolf, along wit Bizzgul. Yirrah an' Jekk was da Alpha pair. Did'na last though. Ah was on dis trip fer 'few weeks, an' when ah got back, all da mons be gone. Even Fingmir an' Kantharr...
Apparentleh dey'd started da Covenant Security Agenceh.. Ah didn' realleh like da idea, bu' dey was mah best friends so ah joined. Dis was aboot da time dat Bizzgul went up an' disappeared...
At sum point, a deadie had asked me fer help tu kill Zunaj. Ah did'na know da mon, an' wha' she told o' 'im, 'e deserved it... Ah did da onleh tang dat ah trusted in. Ah told 'er tu contact Jekk. 'E knew Zunaj, an' wuuld know wha' tu do.
Latah, ah foond oot dat da deadie was from da Dawn, an' Bumijah told me dat 'e cuuld 'elp me.. gif me a wai oota da trouble. Ah did'na believe 'im. 'E kept sayin' how Yirrah wuuld be angreh wit me. Ah knew dat if Yirrah didn' kill me fer dis, mah fatha wuuld. Ah sent 'im a lettah, sayin' dat ah'd take mah punishment, an' dat 'e wuuld no' haf tu kill 'is daughtah. Ah jumped off o' Thundah Bluff.
Riz was sent tu confirm mah death aftah dat.. an' tu bring back mah head so fatha knew she was'na lyin'. Dat's wha' she sais anehwai.

Fact is, by da time she foond mah corpse, a young shaman had spent huurs tryin' tu ressurect meh. 'E finalleh succeeded. Righ' in front o' her. It be ratha stressful tu re-entah dis world, lemme tell ya dat. Ah was quite confused tu tell ya da truth. Ah well. Since den, ah've been protectin' Rizalié an' mahself from oor famileh. 'Cause dey be tryin' tu kill us both.

Aftah sum time, da Covenant.. had na need fer da Agenceh. An' ah guess dey was righ' tu no' want us 'roond. So we all joined da Wyverns 'gain. Dis time, ah wanted tu stay fer guud. 'Cause ah like fer tangs tu be littla stabil 'roond meh. Especialleh aftah havin' tu take care o' little sis as well.
It was all guud fer sum time. A foond Elowyll.. oor 'e foond me, ah dunno. We be tugetha naw an' he ve veray sweet.

Trouble was'na ovah dough. Mookah sais dat da Wyvernpeak Tribe be dead. An' so she be disbandin' da Tribe, da people dat was supposed tu be famileh. At firs' ah was jus' angreh.. den sad. Bu' ah guess dat's da wai it goes.
Jekk mentioned da Ari Scara tu meh.. an' ah'd heard lot's even met sum o' ya.. through da Covenant. Jekk said dat ya be guud people, an' ah guess dat's wha' made meh wanna join.
Aftah considerin' fer 'few dais, ah decided tu contact Nard, an' den 'e tuuk da time tu talk wit meh.. Da rest o' mah storeh.. be mah time wit da Ari Scara. Which ya alreadeh know..
Naw ya know mah past tu...

Endeth: Gutterspeak – To Never Die.

Endeth a Son and Warrior of the Forsaken, rose from the corpse pile, in pain and suffering, bewildered by his surroundings, confused and alone, the fury that burns within will demolish all those who appose him. Told by the Undead of Deathknell not to trust the living, he is a loner who tries to understand his beginnings, his present and future. Not knowing his past, his mother or his father, he roams the known world in search for the answer of his existence, his pain, and torment.

Finding beauty all around, only to be shunned by the living, until befriended by Kalour a large Tauren who almost mistook him for a scourge, having soothed Endeth’s anger and hatred and taught him the ways of the Pack, the Ari Scara. Now knowing a sense of family, Endeth no longer fears nor hates the living, taking solace in his hobbies of harvesting herbs and creating all manner of potions, now with a sense of a future, and purpose.

Story of Elegra

It was a nice day.. me and the other trolls were running around playing, but suddently.. we are attacked by elves, they come charging in on their sabers, arrows flying through the air.

The next day, the battle was over, we had defended our city, though at a high cost.. many of us were dead, and now the elves knew where we live, so we decided to move, we travelled day and night, to finally find a nice place for settling down, there we lived in peace.. or we thought we did.

About a week after, i were out bathing in the lake, and suddently i hear screaming, the village is under attack, all my fellow trolls get slaughtered, they dont even have mercy for the troll children or womens, they salughter everything, including our animals, except me.. they leave soon after, thinking they had killed everything, so i ran and ran, til suddently i bumped into three elves and a human, the elves on sabers, the human on a horse.. they captured me, used me as a slave.. though the "alliance members" got overrun by orcs.. orc cultist from skull rock, again i was used as a slave.. ritual slave mostly, but i didnt either get peace at the nights, i was abused repeatedly

six years later.. i escaped from th orcs, and fleed to Sen'Jin Village, there i began my training as a Warrior, and that training i am still doing, tough one change has also happened..

I met the Ari Scara, i have heard alot whipering about the society, and i decided to search for them, i found them, and is now a member of their society.

The history of Duloc

I am Duloc, or better to say I were Duloc. Before the plague, before the Scourge I was something different. Many years before I lived in a small village, which name I now no longer remember. The proud father of five children, and husband of a loving wife. A small house, but life was good. Then the plague came. I remember the cries of the families who lost there loved ones, I remember the cry of my wife when our children died, and I remember my own cry when I saw wake again as mindless corpses. One should never have to kill there own children….. My wife took her own life after that. She was always the smart one. Death to the plague came quickly to me. Most people think that dying is a terrible thing, but they are wrong. Undying is a terror. I found my self in a graveyard. Memories and voices swirling in my head, and one single voice commanding to do his biding, to join his army. The voice was so strong, nearly wiping the thoughts from my mind. But another feeling sprang to life in me. The hatred to those who stole my family and a thirst for revenge on the world. Slowly the voice diminished, and left the hatred with me. I wandered fare and wide, contemplating how to obtain the power necessary to have my revenge or to relive me of the torment of living. In a cave in the mountains I found a cave where a demon was chained. It spoke to me. “If you remove the chain I will give you the power you seek, for I see in you that this is what you crave”, it said. I heard stories of demons and their lies, but I removed the chain anyway hoping that it would end my life at least. “Where you any other I would have taken you soul” it said, “but it will amuse me more to grant you the power you crave, for I see the damage you will bring to the world”. It granted me abilities I never heard of before, and told me that it now had laid out a path for me, but it was up to me to follow it. A warlock I’ve become. Time pasted. I can’t keep count. Months…. Years….. Decades….. I don’t know. Always one single task ahead. To achieve power that could destroy goods. Funny how things sometimes work. Sitting on a cliff, thinking of my past, a troll disturbs me. He laughs and says that he’d never seen a creatur looking sad when its been given the opportunity to return from death. I remember the stories I told my children of trolls of how they stole children who been bad. This one probably wasn’t any better. And I told him. But instead of being mad, he laughed again. And then he suddenly became serious. Like he could look right through me he said “I know what you desire and I can help”. But I told him that I needed more than he alone could give, and besides that what need would I have from a nasty little troll. But the troll took no notice of the insult, but said in his own way “Power lies also in numbers, and friends are good to have”. He took me to a meeting in the Ari Scara guild, and there I saw the might the troll was talking about. Through this I could have my revenges on the world.

Zagrir plainsmistress

As far as ah know, ah was born in Sen’jin Village. Ah cant really be sure, since ah grew up wid an’ ol’ orc out at Zoram Strand. Oh’ ya think ‘how did this happen’...well ah better tell like he tol’ me. ‘you see Zag’ he said ta me one evenin’ ‘a few years back I was visiting an old mate in Orgrimmar, talking old war stories and things like that. We decides to go out and see some of the places we fought just to remember old times. There we is, just wandering about in Durotar, when out of nowhere we is attacked by a band of elves. HA! We showed them their error and we was swift about it to!
After we is done killing them we hears a strange sound in the distance..like a baby crying. Of course we went to see, and see we did. The elves had killed an entire troll family! Or so we thought. Hidden in the bushes we found a little baby - yes Zag it was you. First we didn’t know what to do, but then you smiled at me, and I just knew I had to take you home with me.’

Course ah cried a lot dat night, but not for long. Ah dinna remember any othah parent but Mogran, an ah’ luv’d him very much.
Ah had a happy childhood growin’ up wid him. He’d retired from de war an’ was makin’ a livin’ as a fisherman, an ah enjoied helpin’ out wid de nets an’ stuff. Most of de time ah would jus’ play around, like kids do, an’ get in trouble sum times. In de evenin’s we would sit by de fire, an’ he be tellin’ stories...most ‘bout battles an’ heroes. Ah luv’d dat!

Sum’thin’ important happen’d when ah was ‘bout eight – ah think. We be goin’ ta Orgrimmar on sum buissness an’ ‘course ah soon got bored an’ went outside ta play. So dere ah was, jus’ runnin’ about teasing de boars an’ stuff, when a raptor attacks me! Almost killed me too!

Ah was saved by a troll wo’mon, dat jus’ kill’d de raptor widout any trouble! Ah was jus’ sittin’ dere wid blood all over mah face, an’ lookin’ at her, an’ she’s givin’ me a hard time, yelin’ at me ta be carefull an’ stuff.

When she be dun yellin’ she took me inside de city to mah dad, an’ got me clean up an bandaged, an den dey put me ta bed. Ah could hear dad an’ Zudja – yes it be Zudja who saved me, an not for de last time either – sittin’ an’ talkin’ until ah fell asleep.
‘Cause of her, ah chose ta become a hunter. An’ a good choice it be.

De years went by, wid mah dad workin’ an’ me bein’ away learnin’ ‘bout huntin most of de time, until one night he died in he’s sleep. Ah was lucky, sort of, ta be dere when it happen’d – jus’ sittin’ dere holdin’ his hand. De next mornin’ ah burried him, an’ went out into de world – on mah own now.

Most of de time ah was by mahself, havin’ a hard time belongin’ anywhere. Maybe ‘cause ah feel like an’ orc on de inside, an’ be a troll on de outside. Dat all changed when ah met de Wyvernpeak tribe – dey welcomed me an’ became mah new family.
Sadly all was not good in de tribe. De mons where fightin’ an’ sum’ where even tryin’ ta kill each othah! It ended wid de tribe bein’ torn apart as ya know.
One good thing came of dat – in de tribe ah met a mon, dat ah fell in luv wid! He be so kind, an’ sweet, an’ romantic. Ah luv him so much!

Ah spent a lot of time wid him ‘f course, an’ dinna worry to much ‘bout findin’ a new family, until one day Jekktarr tol’ me ‘bout de Ari Scara. He tol’ me how ta find de library, an’ ah went dere an’ read all ah could find ‘bout de pack.
Ah was real exited – de pack be mah kind af mons!
So ah went to a meetin’ an’ asked if ah could join. Cajuun was real nice, an’ tol’ a lot ‘bout de pack. An’ den Elmonk asked a lot of stuff – he wasn’t bein’ to hard on me *smiles* - an’ den ah join’d de pack.
So here ah am – Zagrir Moi’jan - Mistress of de plains.

Hamako Kei'jin, Last tribesman of the Redwind Trolls.

A night as ordinary as any. The moon shined upon the village of the Redwind Tribe, as the nightly patrols was out patrolling the village or up in the towers, watching the nearby forest. At first, this night seemed to bring nothing but sleep to the remotely located village, but as the scouts patrolling outside the village found something, something attacked them. No one knows what they were attacked by, except for the dead. However, whatever attacked them seemed to have a thirst for blood, not easily quenched. That night, the whole village of the Redwind Tribe was burned to the ground, along with everyone living in it... Everyone, except a small newborn baby Troll. Lying under a basket, crying as dawn drew nearer, an old Tauren woman by the name of Anjali found him as she was out picking herbs. She took him with her to her home in Mulgore and raised him as her son. This Troll, which she named Hamako, after whoever was the previous owner of the bracelet he was found with, was raised as a Hunter in the traditional Taurish way. He quickly became adept at using a bow, how to use his senses to track beasts, Orcs and other entities, and how to befriend, or even tame the animals around him. One day, as he was playing outside his mother's hut, he found a young tiger cub. It had obviously become separated from the rest of its flock and had found its way to this hut. As Hamako carefully approached the young tiger, he noticed that it had been hurt by some malicious person or another animal. Taking pity upon the crippled little cub, Hamako took the young tiger with him home to his mother where they tended to its wounds, helping it to survive the damage it had suffered. He named his new beastly friend to Anjali, after his Tauren foster-mother. As Hamako grew up, so did his friend. Wherever Hamako went to, the tiger followed him, always forever loyal. If Hamako was attacked by a stray predator, Anjali defended him, no matter what. In short, they were the best friends there could ever be. As they both grew older, learned about new things and experienced events together, Hamako more and more thought of this tiger as his sister. But the end of this story is nowhere near now. One fateful day, Hamako's foster-mother fell prey to a fatal sickness. She explained to Hamako what had happened to her, and begged him to find a cure for this probably unnatural illness. Hamako promised his beloved foster-mother's that he would find a cure and save her life. He took his bow, his axe and some food, packed it into his backpack and went out in a search for any herb that could cure his mother. He searched in nearly every corner of the continent, but found nothing. As he traveled back home one morning to his mother and told her of these bad news, she told him that there probably was no cure for this decease and that his search had probably been for nothing. As Hamako sat with his mother where she lied in the bed, she told him about how she had found him, how she had seen the burnt down village and the dead bodes that lied scattered in the ashes, and the mysterious bracelet that she had found under the same basket that Hamako he had been lying under. Right before Hamako's mother passed away, she gave him the bracelet and asked of him to find out just what it was that had attacked the village. Later that evening, he carried his mother out on the plains and arranged for a ceremonial funeral, where the body of the dead one was burnt and the ashes were spread in the passing winds, he swore that he would find whatever it was that had killed his family and hopefully put an end to its existence. He packed everything he on his journey in his backpack, called for his tiger and headed for the land of the Orcs: Durotar. There, he perfected his hunting abilities with some help from one of his new friend, Makaru 'Zil. As he trained in the Valley of Trials, he became stronger and faster and could move on into the big world out there. He learned of many places, both near and far. One of the places sounded especially enticing to Hamako - The capital city of the Orcs of Azeroth: Orgrimmar! Soon after that he had heard of this place, he traveled through Durotar to finally set his eyes on the gates of this mighty city. As he entered, he was both curious about this big place, but at the same time disappointed as it wasn't as wonderful as he had hoped it to be. As he walked around on the streets with his tiger, he met a fellow Troll who introduced herself to him as Róta. They talked for some time, and Hamako told her about what had happened to his village and his mother. As Hamako told Róta that he no longer had any family, she offered him a place in a new home, a new family. Hamako, who was intrigued by her offer, asked about the name of this Tribe. She replied: The Ari Scara. A few days later, they met again and Hamako told Róta that he had decided to join the Ari Scara, as he had nowhere else to go. Róta then happily invited Hamako to the guild and he happily accepted. Hamako had never before been this welcome anywhere, and he shortly after that felt that he had found his place in this world...

Ven'Jun Spirittusk

Ven'jun grew up with his mother. She told tales of weird and wonderful spirits, that one day Ven'jun would discover. He would listen to his mother for hours on end facinated about what she told him. He always dreamt of one day becoming a Shaman; so one night he decided to leave home, and go on a journey into the unknown world that is Azeroth.

This journey took him to Razor hill, where he learnt alot about himself, that he was born to be a spiritual adviser. Ven'jun then discovered Ari Scara. He had heard about the Shamans that were there and he thought this would be a perfect oppertunity to gain wisdom and learn more about himself.
--

From Ven'jun Spiritusk.

Gazthok Wolfhowl

Gazthok Wolfhowl was born into the Frostwolf Clan a few months after the orcs entered Azeroth, he was there as a small child when they were exiled to Alterac Valley and he was there when Thrall took his rightful place as the Leader of the Frostwolf Clan.
As Gazthok matured within the Frostwolf Clan he was branded as one of the many other warriors for the frontline against the ever increasing Dwarves of the Stormpike Clan, trained in the arts of battle and warfare Gazthok swiftly moved through the ranks until only the Trials of Live Combat were left. Within the Frostwolf Clan it was often by custom that the warriors would be paired up to spar, and eventually train with and fight alongside in combat, It was this that lead to Gazthok's downfall and his subsequent change of beliefs.
During his preliminary training Gazthok had been smitten by a Troll whose name was Shyntae, she was one of the few Darkspear trolls whom were volunteering to aid in the valley for the benefit of the Horde. After weeks and months of courting Gazthok and Shyntae were going to wed on the full moon as it was custom in the Clan, but things took a turn for the worst and Gazthok could remember every one of the dreaded words that caused the following tragedy.

Battle master Skul paced quickly between the recruits, pausing at individuals and reading off names at random until he reached Gazthok, Skul had never liked Gazthok because he was generally always told how wrong he was whenever he tried to demonstrate anything to the other recruits.
"Ah Gaz my old friend, how are you?" Asking in a very sarcastic tone Skul patted him on the back with about as much force as a hammer.
"I am well, sir." Gazthok replied curtly.
"I see you are as polite as always, well for that I have a suprise for you" Skul spoke with a sneer, Gazthok knew something was coming "Now lets see whos left to partner you with, hmm Gegan? no you'd kill him in seconds, ahh.. I know...” Turning to Shyntae stood at the other end of the recruits line. Clapping his hands together Skul spoke.
"You will be partnered with Shyntae, Gazthok. And you will fight her and when the time comes you will do the Trial of Blood to prove yourself"
Visibly shaking gazthok was left to contemplate what had just happened, he was told that he was to fight and probably kill his fiancé.
Chasing Skul Gazthok tried to get his attention.
"Sir I cannot fight her, I will not fight her" He said quickly before Skul walked away. "You will fight her and if you do not I will have your head" Skul shouted back at Gazthok.
Shaken and horrified at the thought Gazthok collapsed to his knees began crying. Gazthok walked onto the training field slowly understanding what was about to happen, the day before his wedding he was to fight Shyntae, and he knew she would fight for she had a fighter's spirit, he had often sat and watched her spar with others and was all the more attracted to her for it, but today he wished she was just a plain woman who cared for her own sake. It was no small rumour that Gazthok had killed a previous sparring partner with his training weapon and that he was possibly the most vicious warrior out of the current recruits, he loved to fight but right now he felt sick to even hold his weapon, since it was live training he was allowed to use his own weapon, a thick two handed axe nicknamed the 'Corpsemaker' that his father had taken fro mthe corpse of a rather vicious Quillboar in the Razorfen Kraul on Kalimdor.
Walking to his position on the bloody field Gazthok stood there and waited, a few minutes later his 'opponent' stood in front of him clad in her own battle gear, a long hand and a half sword was slung on her back with a small and very vicious looking dagger at her waist which he knew she could be quick with, a blow to the right spot and he would be dead and he knew it, similarly she also knew that she might die if she was not quick enough.
Taking their stances they waited for the call to begin.
"You are to fight on the sound of the drums, for five minutes you must fight and if you do not perform at your best you will be removed 'forcefully' from the Frostwolf Clan as punishment, we expect the best and you will give it" Skul boomed, taking great delight on certain words. "Killing your opponent here is allowed but not looked upon well, we need all the recruits we can get." Skul spoke a little more than a whisper when he said that, he wanted Gazthok to die.
"Now begin!" Skul yelled at the top of his voice whilst simultaneously banging a thick war drum.
Circling each other at first Gazthok and Shyntae eyed each other with that of the view of a cunning opponent but also that of two people who cared for each other. Suddenly leaping at each other they locked together and began a bloody dance of death, both people took wounds throughout the fight and during one of these encounters words were exchanged.
"Why are we doing this Shyntae?" Gazthok said whilst trying to hold his own. "Because we have to, we fight for the glory of it and the thrill, I want to see you at your best if you are to be my husband" She said in reply.
"But I do not want to kill you, you don't want to kill me! why are we trying so hard to do things we don't want to?" He said hastily parrying a blow for his head.
"We do it because we want to see each other perform, we both know we cannot best each other" She said from behind "Or maybe I can best you?" putting a dagger to his neck, Gazthok expected a call from Skul that the bout was ended and that he'd lost, but no call was heard, looking over he could see Skul stood there laughing.
"Don't... Please." Gazthok whispered.
"Its not like you to beg Gaz" pressing the dagger into his neck he felt a trickle of blood slowly escape the wound, and raging with fury that she might kill him he did the only thing any orc would do, defend himself with everything they could muster. Spinning round he grabbed Shyntae and bodily threw her nearly 10 meters across the yard in which they were fighting.
"That’s more like it Gaz!" springing to her feet and laughing.
"Stop this now before we kill each other!" Gazthok yelled at Shyntae, which was met by jeers and boo's from a gathering crowd of on lookers, who had obviously wanted to see this years best perform.
Locking together once more Gazthok took mighty swings at Shyntae trying to simply keep her away, he didn't want to hurt her but at the same time he had the primal instinct's of survival clouding his judgement, closing his eyes as he swung once more he felt his arms suddenly shudder and stop their motions of death.
Hearing a sudden intake of breath from the crowd Gazthok opened his eyes and started screaming. His axe which he had now let go of was imbedded in the side of the now limp body of Shyntae, fearing the worst Gazthok began cradling Shyntae, crying into her hair as he gripped her to his chest. Hearing a faint sound from Shyntae he looked down had saw her looking at him through clouded eyes.
"I'm sorry...” He began but was cut off.
"Don't be... you were doing what I made you do, I pushed you to really see who you are and you showed me, I truly am happy for us.." She said weakly, wincing in pain as she began talking.
"Is there a healer here? Where is the healer?!" Gazthok shouted at the crowd, looking for the healer who usually attends the Trial of Blood "Where is the healer!?" He began sobbing again, and then he looked up and saw Skul slowly trying to slink away. Yelling at the top of his voice "Skul, you did this!" grabbing Skul's discarded Double-Edged Axe he ran after Skul "I'll get you for this Skul, you'll pay in blood for what you have done!" Tossing the axe with the hand he held it he heard a distinct thud as he turned away; looking back he saw that the axe had literally cleaved Skul's head in half.
"Any of you who tries to kill me for that, right now, will have to answer to the rage that is inside me, anyone who touches me or her unless I say will die just as Skul did, now get me a damn healer!" Gazthok screamed at the crowd as he turned round slowly pointing at everyone with his fists.

Shyntae died that day and Gazthok was promptly removed from the training grounds, whilst not entirely from the Clan he lost privileges which he all too soon forgot as he left Alterac Completely. The next few months Gazthok wandered and all too often thought of his deeds, he had not only killed a prominent member of the Clan but also his own love, he was heart broken and he felt there was nothing more to do, he was a warrior and one without his heart, suddenly throwing his axe from his hands in disgust realizing he still kept that bloody weapon or death, he slowly huddled into a small cave and slept without warmth or comfort.
Waking to the sounds of wolves howling and birds screeching he peered out the cave mouth, to his astonishment he saw the strangest of things he had ever seen, a humanoid creature similar to that of an Elf, except she had dark purple skin with even darker purple hair. Eyeing her up and down he saw that she now carried his axe and an assortment of other weapons, with the thoughts of a murderous assassin Gazthok slinked into the side of the cave with no means to shield himself he simply hoped that she had not seen him. He was wrong.
The Night Elf had been watching from the shadows since Gazthok had crawled into the cave where she had planned to set up camp, having already encountered many orcs before she was surprised to see him throw away his weapon with such fright. Picking up the weapon as he slept she held it in her hand, it was of unknown metal or origin and that it was quite a ferocious weapon, she had no doubt that he might best her in a fight, but what shocked her was she felt the axe was alive, that something dwelled inside she just didn’t quite understand. Feeling a compassion for the orc she roused the nearby creatures so that they might wake him.
Gazthok watched her slowly walk into the cave and look at him, staring her into the eyes he saw an ancient well of knowledge and understanding, but a sharp cunning and predatory awareness. Trying to back further into the wall Gazthok was gripped firmly by the arm and looking away in fear as if he expected to die he didn’t feel the weight of his axe being returned to him. Looking down at his hands after several seconds he saw he was now holding that weapon he so despised, but at the same time he felt something telling him to let go of his hate, fear and doubt and to keep on going.

Stepping off the zeppelin from the Undercity Gazthok took in the warm Durotar air, Gazthok had found the new land of the Orc's in which he could bury his sorrows. Walking through Ogrimmar Gazthok was amazed by all the people, personally he had never met or seen a Tauren before so when he first saw one he was shocked that they were his 'allies', but he soon grew accustomed to the new sights and races of the lands he had travelled to, on his arrival he headed straight to Thrall's chamber after he had found its where about and swiftly gained a audience with Thrall to explain his 'troubles' and 'problems', after talking for some time Thrall told him the best he could do is find one of the current factions growing within the Horde, or guilds as they were known to find a home as many owned Guild Houses where they could stay in times of peace to rest.

Soon Gazthok had found a home in a guild known as 'Fury of the Storm' and stayed with them for several months, during that time he grew stronger and was even shown the ways of the spirits and that of a shaman, learning from many of the most powerful shamans in Ogrimmar and its surrounding areas Gazthok swiftly changed his views on life, he understood how spirits might live on and that the elements, nature and its creatures often help those in need as Gazthok soon found. Waking one day from a dream of Shyntae Gazthok walked into the guild house courtyard, many were still awake at the time of night, discussing the ways of the land, the monsters they had slayed, the friends who had been lost. None of this interested Gazthok, what did was the weapons rack, walking over he removed the lock and peered inside, to his wonder he lifted his Axe 'Corpsemaker' out and stared at it, what had once been a normal axe now glowed with that of fire, holding it to his hand he felt nothing, however as he looked back into the rack he found all the other weapons had burnt or melted away. Swinging the axe experimentally he found it felt the same, except in the back of his mind he knew what it was.
It was the spirit of Shyntae wanting to live on.

Standing a top of Freewind Post Gazthok wondered where the weeks had gone, he no longer wished to be part of the 'Storm', he grew tired of their troublesome ways, and eventually he found a solution.
During his travels he happened upon a unconscious Orc lying at the base of the Freewind post lifts, feeling a need to help the Orc before some cursed creature came along to eat it, Gazthok reached into his well of powers and drew forth the necessary requirements to 'wake up' the Orc. Pouring the spiritual energy into the Orc he suddenly felt that sense of doing something right and good to the world, he back away and waited the necessary ten seconds for the effects to take place, after those ten seconds a extremely visible improvement was made, that she was standing up and brushing the dust off her armor.
After a short exchange of pleasantries Gazthok and the Orc, who he now knew as Jahadiel, Gazthok learned that Jahadiel was part of a ‘pack’ known as Ari Scara, Gazthok’s interest in leaving the ‘Storm’ grew and he explained his situation to Jahadiel as they walked back to Ogrimmar. Learning that he might be able to join Ari Scara Gazthok promptly agreed to have an ‘interview’, meeting Jahadiel a few moments later in the Ring of Valour after she had ‘acquired’ a few drinks from the local tavern.
After a lengthy bout of story telling Gazthok told Jahadiel how he had ended up in Kalimdor and why he wanted to start afresh after the leader of the ‘Storm’, Rhath, had taunted him over his past. Parting ways Jahadiel briefly told him that Gazthok needed to attend a meeting the nest day in hope of joining Ari Scara.
The next day he did in fact go to the said meeting place to find that no one was there, walking out of the building he thought to himself why was no one there, remembering that Ari Scara often helped defend the Horde towns or simply went to Horde towns to get drunk he set off, pulling at his own spirit to change he swiftly turned into a Spirit Wolf and began running down the Orgrimmar streets to the Flightmaster.
Flying to the Crossroads since it was the closest of the places he might be able to go he saw a group of people gathering at one of the village entrances; looking at them he saw the tell-tale tabard of the Ari Scara as he smirked to himself, right as always. Landing and swiftly walking to the inn to change his clothes to something more suitable Gazthok walked and leaned on the mailbox, too far away to hear anything but close enough to see, he peered at the group; mainly Orcs, Trolls and the occasional Tauren, he did not see any forsaken which he was glad of at the time, they often smelled ‘worse’ in the hot weather.
Seeing a Tauren rise from the group and walk over slowly Gazthok hailed him and explained how he had gone to the place he had been told there was a meeting, yet no one was present and how he had gone ‘looking’ for any of the members.
As the Tauren he now knew as Nar motioned for him to follow he did aware that the others were now watching him, letting Nar introduce him he stepped forward and began his tale and why he wanted to join, that is after the trolls he now knew as Rota and Cajuungumbo made a fire.
After the extremely long talk, much of which was Cajuun rattling on about something he called Axioms, Gazthok was accepted into the Ari Scara with an extremely bad headache and an even larger sense of pride and success.

What happens after will be anyones guess.

Nithnar

Nithnar of The Shattered Hand Nithnar Nar’ugmor was born in Hinterlands as very young her parents were killed in an ambush. Nithnar was then found by a scouting group of Darkspear trolls. They took Nithnar with them to the newly founded city of Orgrimmar where Nithnar was shown to the great troll Vol’Jin he decided that Nithnar was to join the Darkspear Trolls and not be told about her past life in the Hinterlands. Nithnar was taught in the arts of a rogue. As Nithnar grew up she was trained by members of the Shattered Hand. Nithnar was taught how to strike the foe without being seen, she was taught in how to avoid the foes strikes. Nithnar became more and more skilled in the ways of poisons and blades. As Nithnar grew older and stronger she decided to journey out into the world. On her journey she met friends and foes Nithnar grew wiser of how to defeat her opponents in new ways. As her journey continued further away from her land of Durotar Nithnar was told by an old troll from the Hinterlands he told Nithnar a story from his homeland: It was a wet and cold night our tribe was about to settle down for the night. When suddenly we where attacked by the Witherbark trolls. Few survived I saw a little troll she was terrified and was hiding in a bush nearby. As she was hiding she saw her parents get slaughtered by the witherbarks. I managed to get away with a broken leg and a thrown dagger in my arm. I do not know what happened to the little troll. All I know of her is that her last name was Nar’ugmor. Nithnar was confused all her life she was told she was a Darkspear now she found out she was of a tribe in Hinterlands. Nithnar became curious and wanted to know more of her past. Nithnar seeks to find the truth about her past. As Nithnar grows stronger she hopes to return to Hinterlands and find out who she really belongs to. Nithnar met a new friend the tauren Tolkada he introduced Nithnar to one of his friends Gazthok who became a very good friend to Nithnar. He asked Nithnar if she wanted to join Ari Scara and she thought that she might get to meet new allies and get help finding out more about her past.

Ninona

Ninona was once a princess her mother was a queen Ninona never had met her father Ninona mother was a kind loving orc her name was Miratrax she was not like other orcs that wanted go for war and kill she was for peace and love. Ninona was very happy and that she was only four years old she was very big for her age. One day when Ninona and her mother were walking down the road human soldiers came they attack. Ninona hide behind a big rock and watch her mother fight she was real good she must have killed six or seven of them. Then it happened a arrow hit her mother in her back and she fall down dead.

After that Ninona was alone she walk down the road and try to find some work but it was hard for her. One day she met her best friend Lex she was her best friend and they walk together. But the problem started when Ninona met draco she was a killer and a murderer draco turn Ninona to a evil woman. Lex try to get Ninona out but she was cought in draco gang Lex escape and she was never seen again.

Ninona was darker and darker for every day that going she killed, robbed and even tortured she had forgot her mothers word about peace and loving now Ninona was trapped in darkness the years went very fast Ninona was known as the black hawk all called her everyone was scared for Ninona.

When Ninona had been in the gang for ten years she change after a fight a young boy was trying to run from the village and he got killed after that Ninona feel that she must stop hurting people she escape from the gang and was never seen again until one day she show up near the Den.

After the hard and evil life Ninona just want a calm life whit happiness and joy. Lex never met Ninona again and Ninona miss her so much.

Tredius

"A reaver you shall be, and a reaver you will be! As long as i am your father, you obey my orders!" was shouted by Armak. Armak slapped the young tauren standing next to him. A tear fell on Tredius's cheek. Armak slapped the tauren again, and young Tredius fell to the ground. "Next time, we wont discuss about your future. Leave." said Armak. Tredius got up on his legs and moved away from his father. Grumbling something about stupidity he wiped the tears off from his cheek. Tredius went to one of his friends and asked him to have a fight with him with wooden swords. The friend agreed, knowing that Tredius was not the strongest one in the tribe. A short battle, and Tredius was on ground again, having his wooden sword hit away. "You know.. You really are not that good fighter. You always come here challenging me, why?" said Tredius's friend. "Because of my.. my father. He want's me to be an warrior. And as you see, i cant fight enough good with sword's to be one! What good is a warrior without the required strength?" said Tredius. "You know.. i might have something for you. Something that'ld suit you better. Or how could i know, but i'll show it to you anyway. Come!" replied the friend. They went inside a tent of the friend's family, and the friend grabbed an old bow from the corner. The friend threw the bow at Tredius and Tredius caught it. "At least you have some reflexes." said the friend. Tredius smiled and was watching at the bow. What am i supposed to do with this, he thinked. I am no good with swords, how could i be good with this? This time the friend handed Tredius a few arrows, not throwing them, he didnt rely on Tredius's reflexes that much. "Let's go outside and i'll show you how to use that." said the friend. They walked to the so called archery range the friend had built. The friend showed how to fire the bow, and Tredius tried it. He carefully fired the bow, and hit the marker almost in the middle. The friend looked at him with a strange look, and without saying anything handed him an another arrow. Tredius flexed the string, and again, hit the target in the middle. "Look's like we've finally found something that you're good at." said the friend. "Maybe they were luck..." Tredius's speech was cut off when somebody put a hand on his mouth. The friend didn't have any time to react, as someone grabbed him too and silenced him. Their eyes were folded, and they were put in bags. Tredius heard that they discussed something about Armak being close. He tried to shout something, and then felt a hit on his head. And another. And then everything went black... -- Tredius woke up in the tent of Cairne Bloodhoof, chief of the Bloodhoof tauren. Cairne was standing next to Tredius, and said nothing. Tredius knew who he was, as he had been told about the leader of the betrayors. He panicked and tried to run. For nothing. He had been tied up in a pole of some kind. Cairne smiled, and watched at the young tauren. Cairne told him why was he there. Who are the Grimtotem's, and who are the real betrayors. After that, Tredius was allowed to leave the tent and make himself comfortable with Thunder Bluff. But he was not allowed to leave the mighty city, he was guarded. He had all the time he wanted, but after that he had to get back to Cairne, as he had something important to tell him. -- Tredius felt ready, and he got back into Cairne's tent. Cairne told him that his father is wanted. For several crimes. But why is Armak still free? Because nobody can get to him, Darkcloud Pinnacle being so heavily guarded. The task was to go, and eliminate the man. Or he could spend the rest of his life imprisoned. As tauren are peaceful people, this was an exception. For so long they have wanted Armak's head, and here's someone that could do it. But to kill his own father, that was something that Cairne didn't know. Tredius thought about it, and accepted. He hated his father. After all that Cairne had told him, he hated his own tribe, which is very unusual. Tredius accepted the mission and went to a journey that would be a very dangerous one. He was escorted near the Darkcloud Pinnacle, and then he was told to go there, and tell he got free. Which he did. After that, leader of the tribe, Armak Grimtotem had a talk with his son outside. Armak slapped his son, which was for being so foolish that he let himself be cought. Tredius had never felt such an anger inside him. He grabbed his father and pushed him away. That was a fatal push. They were standing near to a cliff, and Armak slipped and fell down. Fell down to a water, and nobody suspected anything. Without thinking any further, Tredius ran. He ran away and out from the Darkcloud Pinnacle. Nobody asked him anything, as he was the leader's son. The escort waited him short away from the Darkcloud Pinnacle. He told the men, that the mission was succesfull. He was escorted back to Thunder Bluff, got his freedom and also got himself a honored person inside the Thunder Bluff. Nobody still knows that who is his father. And sadly, Tredius doesn't know what happened to the friend of him. Hopefully he will find out some day.

Blueshade Frostchild

The winter near IronForge was one of the coldest in decades.
For a troll coming from Sen’jin it felt even worse. But Mor’jah did not care.
She’d found the signs of a fight. She could tell by the wreckage of a kart that their must have been trolls involved. So she searched. She search for any clue of the fight that for no doubt had been there. Most of the ravage was buried under the snow. This mountain trail was probably not used for a long time. With freezing fingertips she shoved away the cold snow. There was something shiny buried under it. Soon the discovered a dwarven helmet. As she looked up from it she saw another kart wreckage further up the trail.
This must have been a heavy fight.
Curious as she was, she started digging in the snow again.
Her hands bumped on something frozen but fragile. As she took her hands out of the snow, she saw she was holding a handful of hair. Blue hair, it was clearly from a troll.
Shivers rolled up her spine, not from the cold. With a little more hesitation she started to move the snow from the troll, afraid of what she might find. Still she did not stop until she finished digging out the troll. It was a woman, completely frozen in the snow. In her head there was a gap of a bullet wound. But that was not what shocked Mor’jah. In the hands of the dead woman there was a child. The wide open eyes of the child seemed to look at her. They did not at all seem dead eyes to her. Without fully understanding she gasped at the child. She could swear she saw the baby’s eyes blink. That couldn’t be possible. Mor’jah pinched herself, but she was sure she was awake. There it was again! The frozen child blinked at her.
Mor’jah reached out for the baby and pulled it from her mothers arms. The mothers arms shattered, leaving a bracelet in the snow. With the bracelet in her pocket, and the child closely to her chest, Mor’jah ran back to the caravan she came with.

Me granny told me dis story a hundered times. Mor’jah, me foster mother, found me dat day and took care of me ever since.
Dey called me Blueshade, ‘cuz of me skin colour and Frostchild, ‘cuz….well dat’s obvious.
Me new parents took me back to Sen’jin Village where dey live. Dey still live dere. I grew up in a very lovin’ environment. Me three brothers and me sister took me up like their own. I never felt different, and I probably will never do.
Me new granny, tha one dat always told me dat story, was a different kind of troll. She was a witchdoctor and possessed tha powers of voodoo. A dangerous art. Even more dangerous if ya like to joke ‘bout it. As she did. Dere was a man named As’tir, he was a witchdoctor two. He wanted to learn from her and visited her quite frequently. But me granny got annoyed by dat. She cursed him several times. As’tir grew more terrified by her with tha day, and as ‘is angst grew, so did a new feeling, love. One day me granny disappeared. And we didn’t see her or As’tir for a long time.

In tha meantime, I found out dat I could freeze water wit me hands. It was a very hot day. I was wishin’ me drink was colder, so I’d cool off better. And then it happened, me drink froze from the point I was holdin’ tha glass. Me parents sent me to a mage, cuz dey thought he’d know wat to do. And he did. He learned me control me magical powers. All me time went to me studies. I had less time to tinker wit me brothers equipment. He bought a lot of mechanical tings of a gnome. And I played wit it in me free time. Me lessons wit tha mage were long and exhaustin’ I almost forgot about me granny missin’. Then she showed. As a bird she entered tha village.
Tha parrot flew directly to me. “It’s me,” she said “Ya granny!”
She told me As’tir changed her to a bird, so he could keep her in a cage. Me granny had of course escaped. “Go find me a cure child!” she said in a demandin’ voice “Ya tha mage now, show me ya powers, find a cure!”
So I left Sen’jin. Every day me granny loses more of her memories, but I am not givin’ up.
As I left me daddy said I should find a guild to join. For no apparent reason I bumped into tha Ari Scare, tha pack gave me a new home like me parents once did.

Zuljiah

"Father! Father!" Those were the last words I ever spoke to my father. It was one of the few words I knew when Admiral Proudmoore and his fleet attacked our settlement. I remember my father as a loving troll. He was a retired veteran of the second war, where he fought back to back with the great Zul'jin. This fact is also why I have recieved my name. I were named Zuljiah after the greatest warrior there has ever been. Or so say my father's journal. Allthough I can't read, I always carry it with me.
His death is the only memory I have from the period before growing up in Sen'jin. I weren't old, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. Scared troll women and men fleeing for their lives, only to be slashed down by swords or shot by bows and guns. So many lives were lost, I just cannot comprehend it, even to this day. So meaningless. There does not go a day without me thinking about that day.
Luckily for me, my mother managed to get to Orgrimmar safely, with me on her back. She were given shelter by the horde, and as soon as Sen'jin village stood ready, she moved us there. That's where I grew up, and also where my journey with the elements started.
My mother was always trained in the ways of the beastmaster, and always tried to teach me those ways. However, I were more interested in a book that my father had drawn for me whilst he was alive. He had tucked it into my mother's pack as the raid on the village started. This book tells of the ways of the elements and the spirits. I started following my father's teachings, and after many years of meditation, practice and pain, I knew how to call down lightning at my will and how to mend external wounds by channeling the elements. When I reached the final page, the drawings stopped and words took over. I got my mother to read it loud to me. It read: "Zuljiah, my dearest. Well done on achieving the stage you now are at. You've come to the point where written words cannot guide you further. Go to the Valley of Trials. Yndam, an old friend of mine, were teaching the ways there. He was old at that time, so one of his apprentices is likely to have continued his work. Go there and learn. Become strong, so you may defend your homelands against the armies of the future. Be strong, daughter of mine".
I were concidering if I should leave my mother or not, as I care deeply for her, but she made the call for me. One morning when I woke up, I found a note. She had gone to explore the world, something she'd always wanted. She also told me to come seek her out when I had gone through the training.
Since my mother decided for me, I went to the valley. Here I learnt so much that I sometimes felt my head would explode. The training ended with my mentor giving me a bottle of sapta and told me to go find the greater spirit of earth. I climbed a mountain to find him, and when I had, I were given the powers of a totemic. With a small totem, I could call down totems to assist both myself and my allies in battle.
With this newfound power, I ventured to Orgrimmar. From here I took a wyvern to Thunder Bluff to learn from the tauren shamen. But it took me a long time to get to those shamen. Next to the small pond in Thunder Bluff sat the two people I came to call my two best friends: Róta and Cajuun. I were so captivated by the story Cajuun were telling, I sat down a tad away from then to eavesdrop.
Cajuun and myself started talking not long after, and the next day, I were invited to become a member of the pack. I am Zuljiah, one of the Ari Scara

Tarli

Tarli was born barely 20 years ago, already with a small tuft of dark hair on her head, and white eyes. Blind as a bat, but always smiling. She grew up to be a polite, slightly shy girl, together with her older brother and her mother and father, in the city of Lordearon. Her father and mother had a small shop there, where they tailored and sold clothes. Thus also Tarli got to learn the craft of sewing, though slightly hindered by her sight. Times went on, and soon, as all young girls, even Tarli found love, and a marriage was to be, with the young Ezkar. But just weeks before the wedding-date, the Scourge wandered upon Lordearon. Tarli was spared the sight of her lover getting ripped apart, but her plagued body had sat its mark.. and she sunk into the numbness, of the Lich King's power. Time that she cant tell herself, during the time of his power, all was black. But one day she woke up from it all. And was transported to Undercity. Thats the story of young Tarli before she meet the people of Ari scara.

Fynik

You'd be genuinely surprised if you knew how well cactus apples taste to a person that likes that sort of fruit. The fact that this someone is eating something he likes and therefore it has a good taste, is purely conciendental.

Oh, and scorpids do tend to be slightly dangerous. But it'll still be about cactucs apples, for the main part.

It was about day. It wasn't evening, for the sun was still shining down upon the little valley. Yep, valley. The Valley of Trials to be exact. This happens to be the place where almost all future warriors of the Horde start their training. Under the warm bristling sun, the rugged landscape, and the high pitched:"Do better ya dogs!" shouts from the trainers. Quite the place to start a military carrier. There's another very interesting thing about this valley too, it's the only place to find cactus apples. By some evil twist of fate the plants, or cactuses as they are, grow no other places. Add one troll that quite enjoys these fruits, and you're already hanging on the current situation...

"Ouch!" was the yelp he let out as the thorn pierced his right hand. And with a indiginated look on his face he pulled said hand back. The wound started bleeding too, and the hint of blood wasn't really unlikely to occur in this valley. It was usually mixed with (blood,) sweat (and tears) coming from the toiling soldiers. And Fynik scowled at his finger, while un-ceremoinalisticly (( quite aware that's not a word )) licking of the blood. The worst of it was that his target, a nice red apple, was still hanging on it's little branch surrounded by it's not little at all thorns. The troll tried again. And again. And one more time. And he failed quite miserably in taking hold of the apple each time. By the end of it, his right hand was covered in small bruises and scratches. By this point Fynik gave up on the resistant apple and turned around to find another one. He tried this for a hour or so, until it was apparant he had managed to scavange the area dry. His bag (brown and made of that scratchy linen) contained about eight apples. Plenty enough to snack him trough the rest of the day, he thought as he walked towards The Den.

He failed at hearing the clattering feet behind him. Boars and wildlife is quite abundant around the entire valley, scorpids, sleeping peons, imps, cultists, the entire area is in fact and despite it's barren appearance a place teming with life. That life does, as said, also contain scorpids. These are huge scorpions, larger than normal, and they are heavily armored. They move in a rigid and unflexible way, as their chitinous hides keep them from doing the most advanced of spinal movements, and they're generally low to the ground because of their resemblence to scorpions. They attack and devour most other prey, and they can occasionally enjoy a apple from a cactus. This last part is worth noticing.

And it was about here that Fynik felt something claw the back of his boots. His eyes automatically widdened slightly in panic, and he also lashed out (vicsiously) with said foot. Trough the leather of the footwear he could feel himself kicking against something living. He did not do the smart thing here and turn around to look, instead he kicked backwards again. The scorpids heavy right claw tore his boot to shreds and got a decent bite of his foot too. The troll yelped, and this time he did turn around. And then the troll blinked, dazzled. Fear wasn't something all warriors have to contend with, but Fynik wasn't a warrior at all. He couldn't move, paralyzed to the spot, as the moving wall of scales made it's way closer to him. And then his body, deciding his brain was taking to long, turned around and ran for it. The scorpid followed.

The two made a interesting and perhaps slightly comical figure as they, respectively, ran and skittered across the rocky ground. It's just to bad that scorpids have four legs to move with, while trolls only have two. And as he felt something snap into his feet for the second time that day, Fynik also felt that this was a different sort of "snap". The pincer sort.

By the way, scorpids do, like scorpions, have pincers. These things are mounted on the back of their bodies and they contain a form of toxin. The toxin varies from scorpid to scorpid, but most of it is either directly dangerous or incapacitating. Well anyway, I assume that's enough anatomy for you.

By the time Fynik woke up again, his bag had been clawed open and his apples were naught but gone. He felt uncomfortably numb, all over, and his mind was hazy. The sun had settled and the stars had taken their place, shining in a way he could only manage to describe as glorious. The stars always made him feel better. They seemed so nicely far and distant, not at all like the real world with all it's annoying problems. Such as, for one, scorpids. He pushed himself back up on staggering arms and he almost tumbled sideways when he had gotten up. Right, time for those combat lessons that's for sure. Last time any scorpids had managed to steal his apples, definatly. He tumbled towards the Den and with it his bed in the same fashion as a very drunken man. He fell down on the carpet he called "Bed", right next to the cup he called "Plate, cup, and all the other uses I manage to have for it", and fell asleep.

Again, much akin to a drunken man.

Azamai

Born to a wealthy family of High Elf nobles, Azamai carried the hallmarks of the archetypical fantasy - a fine childhood, good health and a doting Mother and Father. In spite of her comfort though, throughout puberty 'Mai became restless and discontent - believing there was a world beyond that of satin and silk, of wine and tutoring. Fascinated with the myth and legend of their past, of the Sundering and Highbourne exile, she dreamt of being able to see these beings for real - break away from a pampered life and eschew comfort for fact. A lingering belief that maybe - just maybe - she could contribute her own little story to history.

As it happened, the Scourge nearly brought that to an end before it could even begin.

The horrors she witnessed and the losses she suffered during Silvermoon's fall left Azamai with a numb, hollow feeling. Any desire to leave had been swept in a tide of undead hunger. Would give anything, anything to bring everyone back, to make her people strong again. So when Kael'thas began to preach of Outland and their "saviour" beyond the gate, she was willing to join the Blood Elf cause and feed the addiction which had blighted the Elves so.

It wasn't until Tauren came to the city that she finally woke up from her dreamworld.

They spoke of the Earthmother and her "children", of respecting the natural world and finding your place alongside the beasts, rather than in control of them. Their words struck a chord with the young woman, and before long she had turned her back on Lor'themar Theron and fled from Silvermoon. A stream of bounty hunters were ordered to bring her back - for reasons that have never been disclosed - but soon gave up when Azeroth itself had been left behind.

Now she makes her home in Thunderbluff, considering herself to be one of the Tauren in all but flesh and blood. Though quite a few would mock her enthusiasm, some going even so far as to believe it's little more than false bravado, she has nontheless proven herself capable in the New Horde.

It was perhaps the rather unusual rumours about her that first drew Cajuungumbo to the Elf, but any doubts seemed to be cleared away as they spoke at length - a hearty conversation and slaying of marauding Venture Co miners leading to her eventual acception into the ranks of Ari Scara.

Czele

My life..

I was told, by my teachers, that I was sent to training after my third winter. I do not remember my family at all. All I know is that my father’s name is Caligo, and that his name was more meaning than individual name. I am yet unable to find its meaning, however.

My studies were of demons, but more than that, I was taught of our society. I quickly found out where to find the files on other warlocks and Elves, explaining their progress or lack of same. Naturally, I read my own too. I made them believe that I knew nothing of them, because I knew in my gut, that knowledge would be my only defense should anything go wrong. I can’t explain how I knew that something would, but I had a feeling that it would.

It was on my graduation… what should be a great day, that I discovered my addiction. No one had told me that it was this, only that we were all born with the ability to take magic from other creatures, and to use it for our own. We were drinking. The more drunk we got, the more we lost control –of course. But I’d have never known it would be that bad.

I felt a sickening feeling, but not nausea. I got weaker, at first slowly, and then suddenly, I was gone. Not the I that one normally refers to, but the I that knew how to control everything inside. I had no idea.

When I woke up, I was told that my training would have to start over. The training I had undergone since the age of three. I had no power, no understanding of magic. It took me almost four years to learn how to wield the shadows again. But I’m learning faster this time, and my control increases day by day. But with my new studies, I have learnt what Silvermoon City really is, and what the old Silvermoon City was. A prison, endless amounts of magic trapped inside of the walls themselves, just sitting there, keeping us hungry. I had to get away.

Just before last Winter’s Veil, I moved to Orgrimmar, telling my teachers that I wanted to see new shores during my training this time. They have given me orders… orders I would not execute. Orders I will not execute. I asked strangers for help, who would have thought?

They told me of Ari Scara. They said that Ari Scara took in those of my kind, who do not wish to follow Kael’thas Sunstrider in his quest to regain power.

I won’t go back, so I seek my home with you, Ari Scara. ~Czele Caligo

Taelle Sunflash

"Not good enough? I'll show you not good enough!" Taelle heaved her great polearm above her head and brought it whistling down upon her opponent. A large crack was heard and a piece of the crystalline armor flew past her ear, nearly severing the lobe from the rest of it. As it was, the razor-sharp edge nicked her skin, sending spatters of blood across the shoulder piece of her armor. The elf in front of her careered backwards, falling on his back. He lay there, chest heaving, and began to make strange sounds. For a moment Taelle thought he was crying, but as she leaned over him, she saw he was actually laughing. "Well it's about time you pulled something up out of yourself! I was starting to wonder if the Manalust had killed your spirit..."
Taelle leaned her weapon's end on the ground, tilting her head to one side, staring at her fallen opponent curiously. "Do you honestly think you'd goad me into a fatal mistake Brother? Hardly..."
Her brother got to his feet, dusting himself off, noticing with distaste the chip in his armor. "Well Sister dear, I'll take my chances while I have them - after all, if the Prophecy is brought into being on your behalf instead of mine, my chances are gone, aren't they?"
Taelle stared with narrowed eyes. "That Prophecy isn't worth the Mana spent to tug it from the Nether Everiel, and you know it." But she didn't look so sure.

---

The Wolfshead from the banner torn
The Greeneyed Bearer of Light will come
The fangs of hammer black will save
The Lightbearer from the sibling's blade

The Wolf, the Hammer, The Light, The Blade
The four that show to turn the fate
The siblings born under sky of song
Wolf's will by Bearer of Light be done
A shiver ran down Taelle's spine as she read the two verses again. She held no store by the Prophecy, but it was the last one given by their mother as she gasped in her bed, giving birth to Taelle and her twin. As the two infants had given their first wails, an unearthly song had been heard, so she was told, seemingly coming from all around...and her mother had opened the roof some hours before, so that the stars themselves seemed to be singing. Everyone she had grown up around had impressed the importance of "not being the one to fall under the Prophecy's heel"...though she had no doubt that Everiel had been told the same thing.

---

She slung her weapon over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the terrain. The keep loomed in front of her, and an unearthly howl was heard in the hills surrounding the eerie castle. She was headed inside the cursed place, knowing full well that the mad wizard Arugal and his loyal Worgen were in there, waiting for the next foolhardy do-gooder to venture inside its walls. Still, she was going in there with Everiel to reclaim the crate of bloodforged ingots from the stables...then they would truly be Blood Knights with the weapon to match! Her eyes glowed fiercely as she contemplated this possibility.

The pair of them sat by the drawbridge near the entrance, having a last bite to eat before tackling the horrors that lay within. As they sat in silence, glancing at one another occasionally, they heard a jingling sound. Everiel jumped to his feet, peering into the gloom. A wolf approached, a blue-green skinned orc sat atop its back, a pure white cat padding by their side. The orc looked at the two elves and smiled. Her golden eyes flashed as she did so, her face an open book of honor and friendship. "You two speak Orcish? Of course you do...who doesn't these days...after all, we're all allies now, aren't we?" She grinned at the two elves, watching as Taelle got up and stood next to her brother.

Everiel looked the orc over, lip curling slightly as he struggled to hide his distaste. "Yes...I suppose...if that's what you would call it..." He shouldered his polearm and turned. "Come sister, we have work to do," and he headed for the entrance without looking back. Taelle made to follow as the orc was dismounting, but, as she turned, she caught a flash of white out of the corner of her eye. Turning back to the orc, she saw she was wearing a red tabard...with a wolf's head on it. Suppressing a shiver, she made to follow her brother. "Wait!" called the orc, as they both headed over the bridge. "What are you going in there for? You know there's a madman in there, don't you?" Taelle shook her head and carried on walking, seeing her brother's back disappear round the corner, just through the entrance.

---

They paused amongst the carnage, trying to get their breath. The stink of Worgen blood filled their nostrils, mingled with the scent of death and madness that permeated the whole keep. Taelle slumped against a wall, vainly trying to find a drink in her bags. If she didn't manage to heal herself, the wounds she had already would prove...distracting. But her link to the Naaru that was imprisoned in the basement of their most fair of all cities was weak, and she needed to marshal her energies. Glancing over at Everiel, she saw he was in a similar position. He managed a grin at her, but something disturbed her...there was a hint of something in his eyes, but she didn't know what. Narrowing her eyes and dipping her head, she carried on searching for a bottle of...something. As her hand closed round something cool and reassuringly smooth, she sat down, pulling it out and uncorking it with her teeth. Spitting the cork across the floor, she threw its contents down her throat in one swallow. As she did so, she heard footsteps. Staggering to her feet, reaching round for her weapon, she watched as the orc from outside wandered round the corner, a pair of swords in her hands. The orc caught sight of them both and grinned widely. "Figured you could use a hand...I wasn't really going anywhere vitally important...and this place ain't very welcoming, as it would seem you're finding out," she winked and gestured to the pair, bleeding and looking thoroughly knocked about. Everiel looked coolly at the orc and made some strange gestures, speaking a few words in his native tongue. A flash of light filled the dank stone room, enveloping the elf. When it had faded, he looked as hale and hearty as he had when they had been outside. He sneered openly at the orc, no pretence of acceptance this time. "As you can see, orc, we don't need your help. In fact, we don't need anything you have to offer. So go back to your pigsty or whatever it is that you call a home and leave us to our business!" With these words he stalked off in the direction of the cells. Taelle stared after him. Glancing at the orc, she bowed her head slightly. "My brother is hot headed and foolish, he says things that do not necessarily tally with the rest of our race. I beg you, do not think ill of us for his hasty words." she crossed her fingers and hoped her diplomacy lessons had paid off. She was held in high regard with the orcish people only because of her quick tongue and the deeds she had performed in their service, and she did not intend for her hard work to have been in vain. Good relations with the entire Horde was something she was working to achieve for her own purposes. If Everiel had offended this woman, the consequences would be dire. Still no reply from the orc....she raised her head and risked a glance at the woman, who, to her surprise, was sat on the floor, sharpening one of her blades with a whetstone. The orc looked up and smiled cheerfully. "None taken! Let's face it, I know about your people's...um...problem...and I understand it must make you all short tempered at times," once again the orc winked, her golden eyes glinting in the flickering torchlight. "By Thrall, I've woken up on the wrong side of the fire before myself!" Her work finished, the stone was stowed in the practical-looking carryall strapped to her back and she got to her feet. Walking over to Taelle, she held out a large hand, rough with calluses. "Come on, let's go find him. This place ain't no picnic - he'll get himself killed...or in this place, worse..." at this her face darkened and her voice took on a hard edge. "We'll give them a taste of steel!" Taelle looked at the orc, confusion evident on her face, but did not take the proffered hand. Instead, she gestured in the direction her brother had gone and walked slowly, glancing to see if there were any signs of violence as she did so.

As they headed round the corner to the door that would take them to the courtyard, they saw Everiel, set upon by several spirits, Worgen and wolves. Letting out a harsh roar, the orc surged forward. Whirling her blades like a storm of death, the orc laid into Everiel's attackers, parrying blows and deftly moving out of the way of the enemy attacks. Her feet moved steadily, as though choreographed in a grotesque dance of death. Taelle raised her weapon above her head and jumped off the side of the steps, landing in the middle of a group of wolfmen. Throwing herself into the fray with the orc and her brother, the 3 of them were focused on the fight, utterly absorbed in their actions. But the combined strength of the 3 of them looked to be fading...they were being beaten back against a wall...the orc tried to move out of the way to use the large gun strapped to her back, but couldn't get far enough away to risk catching the elves in the fire - even her great white cat was failing. Taelle summoned up all of her focus and pulled on the link to the Naaru, siphoning off its energy like a sponge. She spoke clear, fluting words of Thalassian, arraying the orc in healing white fire. But it was too much. As she fell to her knees, she saw Everiel drawing closer, apparently escaping enemy notice for the moment. She sighed thankfully, waiting for her brother to heal her. He leaned closer to her and whispered "Some say Fate is inescapable sister - I say Fate is what you make of it...the Prophecy must be broken...and there is no-one to save you now..." His blade, already wet with the blood of the wolfmen, pushed in between her ribs as a queer smile crossed her brother's face. Taelle's eyes widened, in shock, pain, anger...her lifeblood gushing out to coat Everiel's hands...she stared at her brother's face and there it was again, that flicker of something else...her brother opened his lips again and this time a cracked whisper floated out..."The Lich King will rise again...and you will not stop him, 'sister'!" Everiel began to laugh, an unnatural sound, echoing off the walls of the courtyard. Taelle gasped, trying to draw breath - it felt as though she were drowning, choking...she coughed harshly and tears cascaded down her face as blood showered from her lips to join the ever-widening puddle on the stony ground. She looked upward, pleading, and a shadow fell over the two of them. "This may not be my fight, but murder is murder..." The orc's face was stone, and her voice hard as diamond. "Snowfall...you know what we do with murderers," the cat padded silently over, slow, steady movements, but as her mistress gestured towards the traitorous elf, the cat roared and pounced, her teeth ripping out the elf's throat and swiftly rejoining the orc. Taelle watched this exchange with a detached fascination, still choking out her lifeblood. She was so cold..couldn't concentrate...the orc grabbed her head firmly, tipping her head back. Reaching round into a back pocket, she pulled out a glass bottle. Flipping the stopper off, she poured the entire contents down Taelle's throat. Suddenly, the cold was gone. Her whole body was suffused with a warm glow, the pain was fading, lessening. Looking down to where her arms were folded over herself, she pulled away the hand that was clenched firmly over the hole in her side. There was dried blood on it, but nothing fresh. She was healed...taking a deep breath, she shakily got to her feet and steadied herself on her polearm. She stared at the orc, who was watching her solemnly. The beautiful red tabard was torn, the front of it drooping down so the wolf's head was no longer visible. "Wh...why did you do that? You owed us nothing..." The orc smiled sadly. "Because you would have done the same for me," she said simply, and turned to go. Taelle lifted a hand, unsure what to say. "But...wait...I don't even know your name!" The orc's voice floated back to her. "Jahadiel Blackhammer....but you can call me Jaha friend....now let's get out of here!"

Blackhammer...fangs of hammer black...the sibling's blade...she was the one...Taelle raced after the orc, her vigour returned in a rush of elation. "You...you are...the Wolf...the Blackhammer.."she stuttered at Jaha, shaking her head, trying to make sense of it. Jaha studied the elf curiously. "Did you take too many blows to the head friend? You seem a little muddled..." Looking at the elf, she fished out a piece of roasted fish and gave it to her. "Here, eat this while we get out of here, then we'll find somewhere a little more cheery to sit...I understand you just lost your brother...and I may be at fault with that..." Jaha looked a little uncomfortable. "But you'd be dead and he would be walking around sullying your memory with some story about how you turned on him more than likely..." Putting her arm around the trembling elf, she lead her to the entrance of the keep. "Come on...I'll make us a fire..."

---

Taelle sat on the springy grass, hugging her knees, staring at the dancing fire. Jaha studied her. Was she going mad? She had just been through quite a traumatic experience. Oh Thrall...what if she decided that Jaha was at fault? Would she try to attack her? Her cat raised her head and watched her mistress. Jaha gently patted the great beast, smiling. Perhaps best to let her sleep...Jaha was about to suggest that very thing when Taelle spoke.

"The Wolfshead from the banner torn
The Greeneyed Bearer of Light will come
The fangs of hammer black will save
The Lightbearer from the sibling's blade

The Wolf, the Hammer, The Light, The Blade
The four that show to turn the fate
The siblings born under sky of song
Wolf's will by Bearer of Light be done"

The elf looked at Jaha, an almost-pleading look in her eyes. A change from the haughty, smooth woman Jaha dealt with earlier, that was for sure. "So," said Jaha cautiously, "that was a pretty poem...thank you for sharing it with me," she watched the elf as her face became smoother, more relaxed. "It is a prophecy given on the day of our birth," she said, and then told Jaha the full story, of how they had lived with its shadow hanging over them their whole lives, how she never thought it would be Everiel. "But it means...you are the Wolf it spoke of, and I...I must be the Lightbearer..." Taelle got to her feet, reaching for her weapon. Jaha watched her guardedly, standing, hands resting on the hilts of her swords. The elf walked around the fire and stood in front of Jaha. "There is only one thing left to do," she said and took her polearm in both hands. Jaha tensed, ready to fight and, if need be, kill the elf. But Taelle placed the weapon down on the ground in front of the orc, kneeling as she did so.
"By the City of Silvermoon, by the Light that serves us, by the Honor of the Blood Knights, and by my own personal honor, I give myself freely into your service. I will carry out your will through death and beyond. So say I, Taelle Sunflash, Blood Knight Apprentice of the Sin'dorei."
Jaha looked down at the elf in astonishment. "Well this is going to take some explaining," she sighed, then started laughing.

Amotettdrera

When you are a fulltime accountant and work in as a statistical revisions analyst, death doesnt seem that radical a change to your every day

"Fiery hell of damnation thee thy curthe of mine very existance ith haunted by the memories of a once gloriouth patht with a love and pathion for the moth beautiful creature of them all!" The first skeleton cried out.
"Pain and misery forever my companions now as I walk alone with fear in the valley of the shadow of death among poor wretched gangrels of their former existances" the second, a zombie, exclaimed
Feeling the a bit odd about the whole thing Amot tried to chime in not to feel out of place, but he couldnt think of anything dramatic so he carefully uttered what was the last thing he remembered
"Erhm...I am an statistical revisions analyst and accountant!" The two other re-animated corpses looked at him and both started crying.
"Cruel fate why doth thou mock our forthaken brother! Thith ith worthe than anything fathomable, your curthe in death so wickedly viciouth ... waaahaaaaa" the first one yelled again
"I am not quite dead" Amot added but the two others seemed to be caught in a loop of mediocre metaphors wallowing on about being death.

The place was a tomb and the three skeleton zombies had just been animated, by whom none of them knew but the two others, Amot thought, seemed to be taking it very bad, they kept moaning and crying about their misfortune of being alive or whatever it was that they were.

You would think such company would be depressing but for one such as Amot it was but a nuisance at best so he got up and walked up the stairs and left them to their wails while he in his mind tried to piece together what had happened to him.

"Mage a letter has arrived!" The voice seemed enthusiastic but clearly, Amot thought, he had been mistaken for a Kirin Tor Agent as he had little save perhaps his disappering thumb trick, to relate to a practitioner of the arcane arts. Yet curiosity spurred and he reached for the envelope that was handed to him As he opened it the oddest thing happened, an involountary combustion of his hand and before he knew it the letter he was reading was aflame, the strange thing though - he didnt feel pain, but an instinct from his former life made him quickly dip his fiery hand in a barrel of water extiguishing both it and letter, leaving it a charred and wet note but with his name and a person he should speak to as the only intelligeble words left.

The place had changed. The village seemed to be filled with walking corpses a few of them relatively sentient but most just walking aimlessly about. He spoke to a mage trainer, the sender of the letter, in the remnants of an old chapel that helped clear up a few things "The dark gift varies from animation to animaition, regardless of your past you are bestowed with power so you can serve the Dark Lady, some are risen as warriors, some warlocks and some, such as yourself, a mage" the trainer had said.

A series of trials and tasks, mostly in removing some of the non sentient denizens of the village, made Amot familiarize himself with some of the new powers that was the 'Dark Gift' but after a while it became trivial and he was instructed to travel to Undercity.

The place was where he had worked when he was alive, as an accountant and market analyst for a merchant guild in the great capitol of Lordaron. The place seemed more vertical and disgusting though than he remembered but oddly enough that didnt bother him as senses such as smell and taste had seized functioning.

To his great disappointment someone was in the stall where he used to be and after a brief dialogue Amot came to the conclusion that the new guy, in what was known in as cubicle 7D by accountants, had no intention of leaving or offering Amot his old job back.

Without purpose or any feel of dramitic destiny as some of the other skeletons seemed to posses he wandered about aimlessly but when he had done so for about 2 weeks (sleep and nurishment seemed not needed) a sudden fear struck him "have I become one of the braindead zombie drones I saw at the village?!". He looked about and saw what confirmed this fear, many like him just wandered about in undercity without any form of purpose or destination, like their brains had slowly stopped working, or perhaps been caugh in some sort of loop on what was once their licing duties but unable to break the circle of repetetive nothingness when detained from their lively occupation by circumstance.

"Oh my light I have to get out of here lest I lose my mind completely!" he thought and ran for the exit.

He kept running as fast as his animated legs could carry him till he came to a tower and up the stairs till he reached a platform. Near panicking as it seemed a dead end he was about to jump to free himself but then a zeppelin arrived and from it boarding creatures he had only read about in fairy tales, there was a minotaur, a troll and three orcs, but all of them wearing clothes and armour and they hastily descended.
Puzzled he watched them as they ran east along the road.

"They are from Orgrimmar friend!" a voice spoke in knee height Amot looked down and saw a goblin
"You should go there it is a lot more exciting than this light forsaken place" the goblin motioned at the zeppelin.
"Alright I will!" Amot replied and walked the ramp onboard the zeppelin.

The flight was quicker than he thought or perhaps his loss of sense of time had depprived him of the ability to register what time had actually passed but it had arrived at an arid place with in a canyon, one wall seeming constructed in a crude and barberous manner "This must be it" he said and walked through the great gate and into the city.

There was a lot of traffic, overwhelming with the myriad of what seemed like soldiers most, although only few wore anything remotey matchin in uniforms, but all of them running about on errands and affairs that Amot could not possibly calculate or determine as it seemed as random as ants in an anthill. One creature though sat in its own near a cluster of large clay jars in between two tower like huts, it was a troll with a pink ponytail standing straight up in the air and neatly tied by leather bands.
For reasons unexplicable to Amot, he was drawn to this creature that seemed unaffected by the buzzing of bypassers.

"Greetings forsaken what brings you to Orgrimmar" the troll spoke. "I dont know" was the only reply Amot could offer and it was infact the truth. "Alright. What do you do for a living?" The troll seemed unnaturally friendly but everything about thids place and his new existance seemed surreal so it didnt startle him like he would have supposed had someone suggested Amot the notion of a talking troll while he was alive.
"Hmm...some has suggested that I am a mage...but I know nothing of the arcane or sorcery for that matter"
"A mage! That is great! You can be a mighty hero, fighting demons and deafeating villains for the horde and bring peace and justice in these troubled times!" The troll spoke again and chuckled heartily.
"Hmm..I...erh...am not that familiar with the life outside..erhm...outside...outside..." he seemed to be stuck in the thought as truth be told Amot knew little to nothing about anything save crunching numbers and performing statistical analyse of influxuations of prices.
"What do you know of?" The troll asked.
"Well I am pretty good with an abbacus" Amot said with pride in his voice. "You are? That is wonderful, I envy you that" The troll look down on the ground "I am not that good at it, not that I cant count or anything, it just takes longer as I have less to work with hehe" he held up a three fingered hand.
"Say would you be interested in working for me? I have need of someone that understands numbers and can work them and someone to administer a dymanic inventory of various trade goods".

Amot was thrilled as this seemed a great opportunity for a man with his qualifications but he hid his emotions well, as was the code of accountancy, and instead of jumping up in joy as he honestly felt like he replied in a dry tone
"I need a written contract containing an decent dental plan and 3 weeks paid vacation a year plus a minor ammount of my sallery be put in a retirement font!"
"Deal! When can you start?" the troll said with a smile
"Seeing as I no longer need sleep and food...now I suppose"

And thus Amot began his carreer as a personal banker for Cajuungumbo, he was given an office with a cubible, and as time passed he gradually overcame the trauma of being an animated corpse for as wise folk say

Home is where your heart is

And with Amot it was statistical analysis and accountancy!

On his paid vacations he spend time honing his fire magic although he did not care much for the outdoor life, and he also learned to enchant and disenchant items so that he could increase their market value.

The hope of glory from Renessanse Amberlight

This girl has a legend in her eyes�, my mother, Marniel Amberlight, often said to me when I was feeling sad and lonely during my childhood. Though, she would never say why and how. Her eyes glowed strangely, but in grief and sorrow. Then, who am I?

Ill try to paint a picture of myself. Though, its hard doing it in orcish. I hope you understand my story and hope for the future.

Mother gave me the name Renessanse Amberlight. Even my name tells me that something is not what it should be. In a foreign language that means rebirth or The one who has lived in another life�. When dreaming through the nights, I often see myself fighting around the holy Well of Eternity. I see the trolls that overwhelm me and assault the secret Well of Sunlight. When a spear enters my flesh, I wake up, in tears and despair. This has been a nightmare for many years. Over and over again.

I was born and lived my early days in Fairbreeze village outside the great city of Silvermoon. My father, Belil, works in the city training pupils in mining in Farstrider square. He often called me Princess and told me that I would be a lovely holy paladin. I must have been destroying a lot of hope and dreams when I told him and my mother that I had secretly sworn friendship with the children of Illidan Stormrake.

For several years now I have studied demonology and alchemy. I still do. I love my minions and am thrilled by the beauty in flowers. Through the years I have become an influential warlock. But also a lonely elf. Not many of my relatives or elves of my age have come to me for companionship. I have grown to be independent, but also shy and silent.

During the lonely travels through Eversong woods searching for flowers, I have spent a lot of time thinking of my past and future. There are three words that keep coming to my mind. Becoming my values in life. The values are freedom, responsibility and pluralism.

I want freedom. We should all have the opportunity to become what we want to be. Not follow the expectations of society.

But not without responsibility. We have to stand up for our rights, but take the consequences for our actions and choices. I can’t deny that my choices inflict on the life of others. But that does not stop me from choosing what I think is right. I am maybe a bit too predictable.

And we are all different individuals living in a pluralistic society. We should all have respect for others equal thoughts, ideas and values. That means I cannot hate the trolls in general because they hunt me down in my dreams. And assaulted the holy Well. Or hate the humans for the injustice that Kaelthas made in the past. But if they want an enemy, they find one in me.

I tolerate a lot. Up to a point. If anyone threatens my values, I can be furious making the enemies flee in fear and cursing them beyond their death. I never duel for fun, kill only if I have to. But if someone attacks, I will never kneel. Though, the worse anyone can do to me, are to take me for granted, ignore me or leave me behind. If that happens, I once again feel the spear in my wound. And react.

I often seek comfort in Fairbreeze along with my mother. Its relaxing to just find peace and quietness in the inn, my home.

My goal in life is to understand my past and find peace for me and my fellow alliance. I wish to find a way to restore the Well of beloved Sun and make the kingdom of Quel’Thalas once again alive. I dont know if that will ever happen, but I hope that, some place in the book of aged history, there will be the name of Renessanse Amberlight in the library of QuelThalas. In honour and glory.

Sheizan of the Stoneblood

I was born and raised in a small village near the Stonetalon Mountains, where I had a wonderful childhood, even if my mother was away from home a lot. I still had my father who was an unusual troll in the sense that he showed me a lot of love and care.

I my eyes he was the best hunter in the world, and the times he told me of tracking and of the ways of the beasts I will always treasure. He is an old man now, and does not hunt anymore, but the time we spend together when I visit is as wonderful as ever.

My mother is a priest like all the women of my family. It has been that way for so many generations that no one knows when it began. So I have always known that I would become a priest, and for myself I have chosen the path of the holy, and have taken up the secret art of communicating with the spirit world. These secrets I learned from my grandmother - a fearsome woman.

At an early age my life became training, training and more training….how to cast spells, how to draw upon the shadows to defend yourself and so on. Fortunately there was also a lot of exiting sessions in the making of potions, charms and amulets. And before anyone asks – I do not make love potions! I did that once and it’s a mistake I will not make again.

I will not bore you with details of my training - and most of it I'm not allowed to tell you anyway.

Instead I'll tell you how I came to be here.

When I came of age, I was sent out into the world, as is the practice in my family. My mother supplied me with a variety of charms and some medical equipment, and of course with a lot of advice, which I pretended to listen to, and then with my heart pumping with excitement…I was on my way.

Like so many other young people I settled down in the Crossroads, and was quite happy there. I learned quickly however that it is not a place for peace and meditation! For some reason we where attacked by bandits almost on a daily basis. Most of the times we where able to scare them away without much trouble, but at other times we suffered terrible losses.

After one of these attacks I was operating on a young orc, who had no less than three arrows through his body. To be honest I had very little hope that he would survive, so I asked a woman standing nearby to help me comfort him – I simply did not have the time to talk to him, since the procedure was so complicated. Amazingly the operation was a success, and the young man did in fact survive.

Anyway, the woman and I went to Booty Bay afterwards to rest and have a drink or two, and we both felt that we where old friends who had just met – if you know what I mean. She invited me to join her family – The Stoneblood Amazones - where I met some amazing women. My primary function among the sisters became summoning Enoia – our supreme leader and spiritual guide – and performing ….certain rituals. You will have to forgive me for not giving you the details, but their nature is still a secret.

Enoia was not pleased with our efforts though, and finally she ordered us to find other families and instructed us to make a difference in whatever family we joined.

I spent a lot of evenings thinking about this and Zudja’s tales of Ari Scara often came to mind. I don’t know if you realize this, but she can go on about you for hours….

You all know how busy life can be sometimes…so between helping treasure hunters and gathering herbs and whatnot, it took me quite a while to find you. As luck would have it, I stumbled into some of you enjoying the evening in Thunder Bluff… As you all can see, I was accepted into the family, and I will do my very best to earn the trust you have shown me by doing so.

Warrior Schlut

He peered out of the window down towards the busy street below him watching the citizens and guards of orgrimmar go about their chores, The fresh autumn breeze carried with it the smell of freshly spitted meat and the acrid tang of smoke from the fires that cooked it, Whilst the sounds around him told of joy and festivity. Yes , This is home, This is Orgrimmar, This is where he belonged.

A glimmer from the shadows behind him caught his eye and he found himself instinctively reaching for the dagger at his belt before reassuring himself it was just his beloved jaha’s necklace shining in the light of the candles by the pile of furs and hides they jokingly called their bed, He watched as she slept heavily in the flickering light bundled tightly in the warmth of the furs, By her feet lay two large cats softly purring as they slept away the small hours.

He looked to the window again, A fight had broken out on the boardwalk of the tavern and spectators encircled the two drunken combatants jeering and screaming waiting for fresh blood to be spilled, Within seconds it was over and fresh drinks were being poured and the celebrations started again.

He swiftly gathered his things together and started placing them in a large Hessian sack, Every thing was in order it was now just a matter of waiting for the right time to make his way.

He made his way through the twisting streets of orgrimmar one hand carrying the large sack whilst the other kept the soft leather hood bound tightly around his face as to hide his appearance to anyone that might know him, if he was going to do this he wanted to keep it to himself until the time was right, He made his way through the drag passing the many stores of the city, Places to buy cloth and leather, Places to buy vials and herbs, Even the old junk shop that old man droffer ran where you could buy just about anything as long as you didn’t want it to work, all were closed, their owners most likely asleep or in a drinking pit spending their hard earned coin. He made a sharp turn at the post box nodding at a grunt as he passed by on his nightly patrols, the grunt half heartedly returned the gesture and carried on about his duties

He was almost there now, He could see his destination, this was it now no turning back.

He thrust the crude blade at his intended target only to watch the giant orc gracefully sidestep out of the way of his blow, Without notice his target snatched out with his hand and grabbed him by the wrist and with a swift jerk left the hunter unarmed and off balance and with a gentle push he found himself on his back looking up at his “target”.

“What do you think you did wrong lad?” snarled the giant orc
“I didn’t think quick enough?” he said “I should have countered”
“wrong!” came the sharp reply as the giant orc hoisted the young hunter to his feet, “wrong wrong wrong”
“but I thought…” the hunter protested
“that’s your problem boy” said the orc cutting him off mid sentence “you think too much”
The orc crouched down and picked up the training sword inspecting the crude iron blade as he spoke,
“being a warrior isn’t about thinking boy, its about acting “
“acting?” asked the hunter
“aye. Acting on your instincts lad”
“I understand” said the hunter bowing curtly to the old orc weapon master
“being a warrior is about balance boy” said the weapon master as he approached the hunter”
“ now……. Again” he threw the crude sword at the young hunters feet.” I’ll make a warrior of you yet….even if it kills you”

The story of Groak Edgestorm

Groak was born on the move during the wars what raged between the Horde and the Alliance. His father, Warrior by blood and flesh is named Groak. He and his wife raised the new Son of Edgestorm to the way of battle, discipline and power. The war ended too early for Groak to take up weapons. He lived few years of his childhood in the internement camp with his parents until the Horde was freed. He then continued the training what was set in motion years before. Groak's mother fell in combat on the day of battle high up on the Mount Hyjal. He and his father returned to the barren wastelands of Durotar with the rest of the orcs and started building the mighty city of Orgrimmar.

Years after Groak had reached maturity. His training still unfinished, he helped his people aroundthe Horde settlements and experienced real combat. Those times awarded him the rank of Sergeant. Still not experienced enough, he left the settlements to find his own group of people. Those he could trust, and accompany with.

He fought his way in the vast caverns beneath Orgrimmar with the rogue Fynik. He told him of the Ari Scara wolfpack. He was instantly interested of the pack and started looking for the guild. During his journey he met a troll girl named Lalithe. After getting to know each other better, he told her of his intentions on finding Ari Scara, and hoping to join it. Lalithe followed him, and they both came tothe meeting. A week after he was asked the question. "What day do we slay the Alliance?". He answered: "We don't do that" and it was the correct answer. Lupus Ghazkull chose to become his patron. He was welcomed to the pack. Happy of his acception, he pledged loyalty to the pack for his lifetime. Time shows... Will it hold.

This is Lindua's Backstory

Lindua used to live in Silvermoon with her parents as Lindua Earthstrider. Her mother was a priest and her father was a holy warrior. From the start she never had the strength of her father, nor the tallent in magic of her mother. When she decided to become a huntress they were not happy about it and she hasn't heard from them since. After helping to fight the scurge invasion on the dead scar, she left and started traveling. While traveling she met Rajind Lightdusk through her first guild, the forsaken brotherhood. A few months ago they were married and she became Lindua Earthstrider-Lightdusk.

Chorus’ story.

Chorus does not know everything about his past. He was born in Ashenvale but his parents left him at members of their coven(two Elves) It’s strange Tauren live in Ashenvale but that’s the only place where they can practice magic. Chorus wasn’t raised with the Earthmother. His family and tribe have their own religion. It’s about praying to the Goddess and God and casting spells. When his parents left him he spent some time of his childhood at Teldrassil. He learned to cast spells and learned to communicate with the spirits. That’s one of the reasons Chorus’ Tribe(The Nariwunu Tribe) wasn’t allowed in the Horde Regions. Even Elves objected for him being on Teldrassil. But his foster-parents found a way to keep him there. When he was old enough he left Teldrassil and travelled to Mulgore. He continued his training as Druid there and became a young and fierce man. A couple of years later his training was finished and Chorus started specializing in the teaching of the Wildkin. Chorus could feel the power running through him when he shape shifted into a Wildkin. After completing the final test he went to search for a guild. Tons of guilds weren’t interested in someone like him. They said he was a traitor. While he cried once sitting lonely in the Barrens, a shaman called Yirrah appeared. She peered at Chorus and asked: Whut be wrong mon?’ Chorus replied: ‘No one wants me in their guild. They call me a traitor.’ Yirrah smiled and said: Aah, don’t worry mon! I might know a guild that is perfect for you mon!’ Chorus gasped. Yirrah started talking again: The Ari Scara. Proud members of the Horde who defend their people. You might like ‘em. Go talk to Cajuungumbo ,he be very important there! Chorus smiled and replied: Thank you miss. May the God and Goddess protect you! Yirrah walked away and Chorus sat there for a while,thinking. Sometime later Chorus wrote a letter to this Cajuungumbo. He got a reply that Cajuungumbo wanted to meet him in person. The same day they met. Chorus liked the idea’s from the guild very much. Cajuungumbo was very nice and answered his questions. Chorus asked if he could join. Cajuungumbo nodded and told him he was still on trial to prove himself. Chorus is now enjoying every meeting and would like to stay in the guild The future is yet to come… Written by Chorus

Lalithe tells her story.

Like ya othahs me will tell ya a lill’ about mah past. Ah dun be glad nor sad about wha ‘appened but ah tink it was the best tang dat could ‘appen.

Ah dun remembeh much of mah child’ood. It’s mostleh foggeh memories. But ah du know dat da tribe me lived in was a small exiled tribe who was descendent to da Gurubashi Empire an’ dem ‘Akkar lovin’ trolls. We dun worshipped aneh gods or godesses, but lived rathah peaceful deep in ‘em jungles, which we ‘ad done foh centuries or even more.

Ah do mostleh remembeh when me was playin’ wid mah fouh brothahs. Mah favourite one was mah half brothah Gabunta. ‘Is mothah was a fierce ice troll but dat didn’t mattah foh me. ‘E teached me ‘ow ta fight, ‘ow ta drink, ‘ow ta unt an’ ‘ow to drain blood in da best way wid’oout lettin’ da animals suffeh. Ah also remembeh mah lill’ wolf puppeh. ‘E an’ me alwaiis went out in da dark night ta go on big an’ new adventures.We both were rathah unruly but we luved it. Didn’t mattah ‘ow much da oldah tribe trolls punished us. Dey couldn’t tame us. Togetheh, we were one.

One tang dat me remembeh da most, was when me were in mah new wuman years. Mah brothahs ‘ad left lon’ time ago ta seek deir destines an’ mah ol’ papa cum ta tell me ta pack mah tangs. We went in da dawn towards our big adventure. Ah ‘ad no idea by den dat dis would be da last time ah saw mah beloved ‘ome, tribe an’ mah now grown up wolf. Me an’ papa ‘ad been wanderin’ foh maneh maneh days, da landshape was different an’ it was loads of new strange animals an’ colours of da forest. Ah thought it was beautiful.

One night when me an’ papa ‘ad ‘unted down a big big deer an’ eated us satisfied a big an’ monstrous predator ‘ad snuck up on us when we was asleep. Ah woke up when ah ‘eard mah papa roar out ‘is angeh an’ saw ‘im charge into da black beast who ‘ad its yellow eyes fixed on me. Ah remembeh it if it was yestehday. ‘Ow papa stabbed it wid ‘is axe, turned aroun’ ta strike again when da big beast who was more flexible dan ol’ papa jumped ovah ‘im an’ rasped ‘is back wid ‘is big claws. Da claws sunk deep into papa’s flesh... Makin’ it pump out warm blood. Papa tried to turn ‘round an’ stab it but da beast was fastah an’ bit ‘im ovah ‘is chest... Rippin’ aweh a big flesh piece. Papa roared wid pain... An’ me was paralyzed. Just sittin’ der. Watchin papa tears to pieces. Den suddenleh, aftah wha’ felt like ‘ours mah papa was layin’ on da ground. Da big beast was gone. Ah stayed wid papa foh days, but ‘e was dead... Weeks, months passed. Ah didn’t knuw where ta go. Ah ‘ad let mah papa died an’ ta go ‘ome meant death foh me. Selfish as ah was ah contiuned forward. Till one day ah decided ta lay down an’ nut go one anehmore.

Ah dun know ‘ow long me ‘ad laid der but ah remembeh dat ah woke up inside sum silleh tree ‘ouse an’ der was a fierce Night Elf tendin’ mah wounds. Strange ‘ow fast me accepted ‘is ‘elp an’ just acceptin’ ta be around a enemy of mine. Dat’s when a learnt dat peeps dun alwaiis be wha’ we tink dey be.

Ah lived wid da Elf foh a year or two. ‘E ‘elped me come back ta life, find ma spirit again. Me often sat in da birchgrove, wid mah feet into da lill’ pond listenin’ ta ‘is endless singin’. One night’ ah noticed ‘ow ‘e prepered tangs an’ on da next mornin’ ‘e was gone. Ah stayed some more days till ah decided ta leave. Dat’s was when me met three tauren nomads. Dey were nice an’ said ah could fullow ‘em. Dis also be one part of mah life me dun remembeh much from. But dey left me in Valley of Trials, a dirteh an’ dry place wid orcs an’ taurens runnin’ ‘roound. Since ah ‘ad been livin’ in exile most of mah life ah ‘ad nut met maneh trolls, orcs, tauren an’ specialleh not forsakens. It was new an’ strange. But ah liked it. Ah soon ‘ad gotten a new friend. A orc female called Ferine. We fought togetheh an’ one day when we were doin’ arrends in Camp Turajo we saw a group of mons an’ decided ta ‘af a look. Der, in da middle of da crowd ah saw da kaya smokin’ troll wid white ‘air. Da ‘appiness ah felt back den was enourmous. It was mah lost brothah Gabunta! Ah remembeh ‘ow we leaped on each othah. ‘ittin an’ growlin at each othah foh losin’ contact. Dat was also da day when me an’ Ferine joined da wolf pack mah brothah ‘ad joined. Da Storm Wolf Clan. Dat was da first day me felt like ah was bein’ ‘ome again.

Nowadays, ah dun be ah ‘untah of da ‘orde. But dat mons, dat be anothah storeh.

Tersiphone Shadesinger - The origins

The Quel'dorei has a long and noble history, however distorted some facts may have become in time.

Certainly, they are tenacious; a cataclysm tore the world apart and drowned most of their culture, pulling their Queen Azshara into the waves?

No matter, they ventured to the new continent, drove away a troll empire, and set up shop there (we do not talk about the fact that they were exiled for their hubris and addiction to magic).

When the Shadesinger family served Queen Azshara, we were nobles. We were her favoured ones, like so many others. And with the destruction of the Well of Eternity, well, there came a shift in status. The druids were the new nobles of the Kaldorei, and eventually, my great-grandfather conspired with Dath'remar Sunstrider to demand that the Quel'dorei be allowed to use magic. For their efforts, they were exiled, and traveled to what the humans and the Forsaken now call Lordaeron. And in two generations, we fell. Ours was not the most prosperous family, to be sure, and what holdings we had were wiped out in the troll wars. My grandfather was forced to subsist on his hobby, alchemy, and that became my father's trade, much later.

I was born some three-hundred odd years ago, in a shady part of Silvermoon. My mother was a whore, and had paid for my father's infertility potions by servicing him. Needless to say, my conception and birth ruined that part of his business, and taught him the valuable lesson of not watering down his merchandise for increased profits.

From the time I could walk, I was trained in tricks of my parents' shady trades; my mother worked the streets, and my father, out of some misguided sense of familial responsibility (and, quite possibly, the desire to leave a legacy) began training me in the craft of alchemy. I supplemented our meagre income by cutting purses in the bazaar, avoiding the Arcane Guardians and the Guards of Silvermoon. When I was in my teens, I began working the streets alongside my mother.

As an aside; I am descended from the Quel'dorei. They say magic is in our blood, and we feel it most keenly in it's absence. I have little magic of my own, and really, what I have is misdirection and sleight-of-hand rather than arcane practices. I could not weave an enchantment to make a broom sweep the streets, and I am a far cry from the arcane mastery of the magisters. But I make do, as much without magic as I can. And for now, it has worked.

Words came from the humans to the South that some strange new threat had surfaced in far-off lands, green-skinned humanoids calling themselves orcs that were wrecking the human lands. I thought little of it, for it did not affect me, as was my way. And, truth be told, the Quel'dorei remained fairly distant during the First War against the Horde.

Then came the second war; when Orcish warships laid siege to Lordaeron, and several outposts of our southern borders were slaughtered by them. This is history, and I'm sure you can find the details in any worth-while library. But it has some effect on my own story, and that is why I mention it.

You see, it was around that time that I managed to cut the wrong purse, and a magister had my captured by the guards, and brought before the judges for sentencing. However, far be it for Silvermoon, in its outrage, to kill perfectly good soldiers. Especially when there were orcs threatening our southern border willing to do it for them. And so, in lieu of a more drastic sentence, I was drafted. Given the choice between losing my head (yes, I know. I figured the Magister over-reacted too) and potentially losing my head, I choose the latter.

After a few weeks of training, I was a pathstalker. Some would say it is foolishness to send a condemned criminal out to scout, risking the betrayal of your own forces, but you have to understand... I was Quel'dorei. Our way of life was threatened. I've never been an idealist, but I do pride myself on having some measure of loyalty.

Needless to say, I survived. Though not without losses; I remember in particular a cold night in the Alteracs that left our squad missing half it's numbers and gave the rest of us severe frostbite.

And that, really, was the Second War for me. I did not go to Draenor. I did follow an orc raid that had stolen some artifact or another (but I wasn't cleared to know what, exactly), but I never went through the portal, and as a condemned prisoner, I got very little leave to visit my family.

We withdrew from the Alliance, then. And I was assigned to guard the perimeter, getting into trouble with my superiors every other month, when boredom would drive me into doing something reckless, or generally un-wise. I survived the attack of the Scourge upon Eversong only because I had been sent, as punishment, to scout on the humans in the Arathi Highlands. Oh, I saw the undead monstrosities. But a single elf is much more mobile than a gleaming jewel of a city. And they were not very subtle; I had my orders, and I was going to follow them. In the end, I do not think that I had much advance warning, or that my words would have changed much.

But I did notice when Arthas the Kin-slayer defiled the Sunwell. Why?

It's hard to describe accurately, but imagine that all of your life, you have been frolicking in water, enjoying the feeling of the liquid on your skin. Then, in one moment, you are transported and thrown naked into the Shimmering Flats. The salt crystals annoy your skin, the air is drying out your mouth, and your eyes hurt because of the lack of moisture in the air. Gradually, your body weakens from the lack of water, and any water you find is poisoned by the ever-present salt.

That's a little like how it felt; one moment I was secure and safe, if far away from home. The next, I was utterly alone in the world and only my misery could keep me company.

By the time I made it back, scavenging for magic here and there, Kael'thas had returned. And with him, he brought the Naga. They would go to Draenor. They would find a way.

And they did... The only cost was that my eyes changed colour, and that I can now feed on demonic energies as well as arcane ones.

Make no mistake, though... I still hunger. But I can distract myself, and that is what I do. The army no longer wanted me, claiming I was far too disruptive in the new regime. So they sent me on my way, warning me that I would not be given a second tour of duty if I was caught breaking the law again. Instead, I became a bit of a Jill of All Trades; my main source of income is still my alchemy, but I supplement it by travelling Azeroth, looking for distractions and aiding our new allies in the Horde.
I do not hold grudges; I'l put down the humans out of instinct by now, but I have far better things to do with my time than hold ill will. I still hold some loyalty to Silvermoon and Quel'thalas, but I realize that our situation is desperate. We need the Horde to survive, and the Horde could certainly use us, so I have pledged my loyalty to the horde as well.

As for the Ari Scara...

I was in Thunder Bluff, exploring, and came upon Arylith, a friend of mine. She had become embroiled in some sort of diplomatic (excuse the term) clusterfuck, and was now congregating with the injured party, which was part of the greater Horde. After spending an evening listening, and impressing the Silvermane Cajuun with my oh-so-sharp tongue (I swear, sometimes I cut myself), he invited me to join the pack. And how could I refuse? They are, after all, a symbol of Thrall's new horde. But more than that... They're becoming family.

[OOC: Please note that this history is written in the first person perspective and therefore events as represented may not be 100% objectively accurate; they are, however, how Tersiphone herself considers them to have happened, even if she underplays the hint of desperation in her sensate's creed of distraction from her addictions.]

Coljun's Story

Joining the pack was a case of pure coincidence for me. Had I not gone to Sen’Jin village on that evening then I had not met you. Yet I did go there and I did see your meeting, where I saw Lalithe, a fellow Storm Wolf. Memories tucked away in a corner of my mind resurfaced. There and then I decided that I wanted to join your pack. So I came again to the next meeting, and after waiting two weeks I was finally accepted among you. As you can see telling you how I came to join the pack is not really interesting. Why I was in Sen’Jin village might be more interesting however, so here is the beginning of my story. A random day about 8 or 9 years ago I can’t remember exactly. Coljun hung upside down from the branch and looked at the two Trolls who walked away from him back to the village. He grinned, they were looking for him for days now, but they hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him. His grin faded and he pulled himself on to the branch. It shouldn’t be like this, they shouldn’t even be looking for him. He wasn’t guilty of anything. He glided down via the trunk of the tree and hopped into the bushes in the opposite direction of the other two Trolls. Time for food, he thought. He climbed into another tree and plucked a few pieces of fruit when he heard voices coming from below him. The young Troll froze when he looked, there were several large greenskinned creatures standing below him. They spoke in a language he didn’t understand, but they didn’t look particularly friendly. Two of them wore large double bladed axes and the third wore a wolfsskin and had enormous claws. First the pinkskins had come and driven them off of one of the islands and now greenskins, what was going on? Coljun sighed in relief as the three greenskins walked on, though he stayed in the tree for a little longer until he was certain they were gone. He let himself to the ground again and ran to his little hideout deeper in the jungle. “Ack!”, was the only thing he managed to say before the tree in which he slept fell over and his face connected with the ground. He lay still for a little while listening to wood being chopped and the occasional tree falling down. He rubbed his head as he sat up, not the best way to start a day he thought. Two greenskins were chopping at his tree, they didn’t look as dangerous as the other two, but they were still large creatures and they wielded large enough axes that could no doubt hurt him in ways that he’d rather not think about. In fact he’d rather get away while they didn’t notice him yet. He struggled with getting up as much as you would expect after someone fell down from a tree. “I wonder what they are doing?”, Coljun said to himself when he figured he was a good way out of earshot. He got his answer as he moved on towards the coast. There he saw Trolls and greenskins working together on large ships, when suddenly the whole island shook. “The seawitch is very mad today”, Coljun muttered to himself. Just after he had said this the seawitch cursed them all, threatening to sink the island. A large greenskin came running towards the working Trolls and greenskins and started shouting orders, urging them to hurry up. Quicker then Coljun had ever seen the boats were repaired and a horn sounded. All the greenskins and Trolls gathered, a realization dawned in Coljun’s mind, they were leaving. At that moment a group of greenskins passed and Coljun fell in with their trot. They were not going to leave him behind, not today.

Lunesca

The dust caught the winds from the coast of Sen’jin as the quiet clatters of the sea life caught the ears of the Darkspear tribe. There was a silence that night, a silence that was rare within these parts. The sounds of the land rang harshly as a storm approached from across the Echo Isles.

Lunesca tilted her head and gazed up into the star spattered skies sighing deeply in thought. For so long now she had called this tiny village home, for so long this had been the place she had returned to in her tired and sometimes drunken states, “Da world be turnin’ and da skies be ragin’ and yet I be da same, da same as I be when me be small, jus’ as naïve, jus’ as normal…” she stated blankly, looking over to Val’Jarn.

“Ya neva be normal Lune,” the rather large and brightly coloured troll replied, “Ya bein’ da daughter of da greatest hunta of da Luna’Skari ya never be normal. Gid yaself time an’ ya be like ‘im ya know.”

Val’Jarn was once a great friend of Lune’s father. He was a tall troll, far taller than his kin, he stood a good foot taller than even the biggest of Tauren and his dark eyes and sinister markings made him seem like the most formidable of beings. His hair such a ferocious shade of red that in pure sunlight it seemed to burn like fire reaching to the sky.

Lunesca knew him better than to think of him as formidable, since she was small Val’Jarn had never failed to be easy to talk to or share with. His strength and force of will was undeniable but his demeanour was that of friendliness and good will. Once he had saved her from a Murloc wandering the coastline by handing her the first weapon she had ever held and teaching her to fight it away herself. He was a kind troll though, he believed in teaching through experience and would always keep more of an eye on the young troll than she realised.

Sighing once more Lunesca rose to her feet, dusting the dirt and sand from herself and walked over to the small pool within the middle of the village. She wondered to herself, could she ever really be like her father? Did she have the strength or the will to become such a great hunter? Often Lune would question these things but tonight more than ever before, it was time for her to decide upon an answer…

To explain Lunesca means to explain the people and places that caused this young hunter to make the decisions she had made in her life. Though young she was an intelligent and thoughtful troll, always looking for the best of all answers to the most confusing of all questions… on that note I shall first tell you of the Luna’Skari.

Many years ago the Darkspear tribe contained a family of trolls so hardened in their skills that they believed themselves to be capable of far greater things should they be able to act independently from the Darkspear. The family was raised on equal intelligence to their ferocity in battle and taught never to make a move without considering all consequences. They were tried and tested time after time, first by means of puzzles and obstacles put before them to test their mental agility and as they grew they would face the trials of battle.

Her dreaming turned to herself now, the night in which she would begin to undertake the trials to become worthy of following the path of a true and strong hunter.

Lunesca was at a point in her life where the first trial of battle was upon her, she must face a gauntlet of opponents, alone and unarmed. She would not know who or what she was to face until it began meaning she would be left to rely on her own knowledge to serve her well, and quickly.

All trials must be taken at night, the Luna’Skari were great believers in the powers of the moon and the effect nightfall would have on the lands. They believed that all children of the tribe must be conceived on the night of a full moon so as to give them a unspoken tie to one another and that which they worshipped. Once born the children born in this way were given a mark, a mark identifying them as a “pure born” this mark was nought more than a branding upon their left shoulder of a moon within a dark sky infused with ink showing the patterns. The children of the Luna’Skari whom were not conceived at the correct time would be sent out into the lands to prove themselves of worth. Should they fail, they would be banished from the sights of the tribe. Should they succeed they would then face the same trials as the other young, the right to learn their path whether it be as a shaman, mage, warrior hunter or otherwise.

Lunesca had never been a fan of the tradition, much like her father she had always thought more of grouping together as kin and caring for them all under one banner. She had seen the banished walk away from the tribe only for their bodies to be returned to the tribe battle worn, bloodied and inevitably death for the child would soon follow. Weeping parents of the lost young would cry themselves to sleep at night washing a constant wave of anguish and sorrow over the tribe.

Tears welled up into her eyes as she looked away from her friend. He knew she had always been left on the outside of the Luna’Skari, like a black sheep in a field full of albino. “Ya be tinkin about it again Lune, ya be knowin dere be no sense in it.” He stated matter of factly before gulping down the remains of his Junglevine. Lunesca ignored him and moved her dreaming to her parents.

Hulazan and Skarrazi, in their younger years had been intended for one another. Skarrazi much in love with his wife through all his years but Hulazan had never been one for sticking to one troll. Many of the tribesmen adored and lusted after her beauty and her seduction and yet time after time Skarrazi would turn a blind eye in fear of loosing the woman he loved more than he could bare to admit even to himself.

They began as hunters, the both of them testing their skills against one another… but Hulazan had always been less than talented in anything but her bed swapping. Skarrazi would however step back and always allow her to excel beyond him through the intent to encourage her and save disgrace. He loved her enough to suffer the taunting and jibes of his peers, always knowing in his heart that he could not survive seeing a single tear fall from the eyes of his beloved.

In time though he was forced to reveal his true potential when, for his third trial of battle her was pitched against a dragon by the name of Somnus.

Somnus was a greater dragon of the Green Dragon Flight, his trial was to not only fight but to receive the fire gland within his throat and return it to be used in a ritual to be performed by the elders to power the great blade of the Luna’Skari to burn anyone whom should attempt to steal it. The problem being, he was to race another younger to this and return successfully before his opponent could. What Skarrazi didn’t know was that it was in fact his love whom he had been pitched against.

Lunesca was still only of a very young age then. Bore by Hulazan only a moon before and yet she remembered the sounds of preparation her father had indulged himself in the whole day. She could remember as the great troll had hoisted his polearm onto his back, run his bow strings through his fingers as if caressing the soft melody of a harp string and kiss his daughter on the nose whispering words of love and joy at the arrival of his child.

What was to come from that moment on Lunesca had known only through her father’s words on his return, but in her dreaming the events played out before her sleeping eyes as her father walked out into the night and away to Ratchet to catch his boat ride to the eastern kingdoms.

Equipped only with enough food to last him five days Skarrazi had been obviously rather intent on returning successfully in the shortest time he could manage so as to return to his daughter before she had realised he was gone. He knew this meant he would not sleep again before returning to his tribe as the journey alone would be the most time consuming of this whole event.

The travel in itself was not exactly eventful. Skarrazi would allow his thoughts to wander around the events of his life as it was and sigh from time to time knowing not all was as he would have wanted it to be. His daughter had come for him just at the right time. Hulazan was still his beloved but nothing could prepare him for the love he felt towards his child. So calm and peaceful she had lay in her cot giggling at the starts and from time to time grabbing hold of her fathers fingers so tightly he was sure she would never let him go. She was such a beautiful little thing. So happy and full of life and love. Skazzari wondered if he had begun that way… and even more incredulously, had Hulazan? Had there once been a time when she too was innocent had thought of nothing more than the lights in the sky and her next meal?

Now she was older her time seemed mostly spent in pursuit of her next conquest or flirting with the tribe elders and attempting to gain some form of authority. Why did he turn his eyes away so often? Why did he allow his heartbreak so play itself out in front of him over and over? What more could he have done to stop it? She was the mother of his child and still to this day the only woman he had ever loved. She knew this, and Skarazzi was more than aware this was why she continued to act this way. She knew he would never leave her… his wasted heart always calling for her even on those cold nights when he knew she was in the arms of another man.

Finally the boat came to dock across the waves and Skarrazi began on the final stretch of the journey towards the swamps. He felt a small ache in his heart as he realised this was it… this would be the deciding time. Would he ever again lay his eyes on the face of his child? Would he ever touch Hulazan again? Before he had even had time to think through his answers he had landed. In the base of Stonard.

The base was dark and damp beneath the towering trees overhead. The ground was almost solid but for a few moments Skarrazi was sure he could feel just a slight give in the ground beneath him which almost caused his feet to bounce a little with each step. The only sounds to be heard were the occasional grunts from the guards that surrounded the area and from long in the distance a long, echoing and almost haunting moan, the origins of which Skarrazi couldn’t quite decide. The air remained so still, no breeze whatsoever sweeping past to freshen the face of the troll as he tried to catch his breath in the humidity.

His eyes searched the camp’s exits, none of which seemed preferable to another. Skarrazi moved himself forward towards one of the few guards remaining who weren’t falling asleep and began to question him quietly on the possible direction of the dragon.

The Orc in question looked into Skarrazi’s face almost amused. “You think we go out looking for dragons? Heh, there’s enough of them up by the Temple sunk in the lake over there,” the stout and rather unfriendly Orc pointed his large chunky finger out in to the distance ahead, “You go out there towards the Temple and you’ll find all the dragon kin you’ll be needing.” He continued dropping his arm back to his side and grinning. “Bear in mind though, what with being a troll and all, you ain’t likely to come back if you really are hunting dragons.” Skarrazi’s face remained calm while his hand slowly wrapped around the polearm attached firmly to his back. With one swift and beautifully aimed swipe the buckle from the girdle of the orc had been removed causing no bodily harm. “I’ll be skinning’ dat beast alive before it be killin’ me.” He replied, his expression still that of absolute tranquillity as the undergarments of his new friend fell to the floor leaving him rather red in the face.

Placing his weapon onto his back once more and shifting his bags into place Skarrazi took to the path, following it until he began to see a small area of marshland before a lake. The orc had been right, dragon kin after dragon kin could be seen in the distance… each one armoured to their beady eyeballs and keeping more than vicious expressions across their faces. Skarrazi stood still, observing their movements and patrols when it came to him, the easiest way through. If the beasts saw him they would most likely come to the aid and protection of one of their greater drakes, therefore his mission would be to lure Somnus away from the hordes of younglings before his attack. Skarrazi fell to the floor laying his body flat to the ground and moved through the undergrowth causing no more noise than the insects that surrounded him. As he drew closer he saw his opportunity as the two beasts that stood between he and the water turned their backs on one another and stopped, sniffing the air lazily. Faster that a cheetah Skarrazi was on his feet leaping across the roots on the ground and ducking below the branches above. Not five seconds later his tall, muscular and lithe body was submerged in the water of the lake.

Now in the centre of the lake he could see everything he needed to. He spied Somnus slowly making his way across the water to what Skarrazi assumed was the Temple his orc acquaintance had told him of. It appeared as if the majority of the temple had been lost under the surface but as Skarrazi looked up through the surface of the water he could see Somnus resting himself upon a flight of steps leading up to almost the top of the pyramid shape. Silently pushing himself once more beneath the cool liquid he began to swim further and further towards the temple. Once he arrived moving himself noiselessly behind the dragon…

Suffice to say her realisation that her husband had triumphed over her gained him no more love than he had already been able to earn from her. In her anger at having been beaten by the man who’s first child she had recently bore and who’s second child was soon to arrive she refused to speak another word to him until the day she went into labour. Lunesca now was capable of speech, walking by herself and had even begun to inspect her father’s bow from time to time. She had been so happy when he had returned from his trial… managing her first words. “Me be ‘appy te’ see ya D... daddy!”

The two hunters had gone to visit Hulazan in the healing hut across the centre fire. She looked less than impressed to be laid there when through her window she could hear the shouting and bellowing of the tribe celebrating their liquor in the bar next door. She could never resist a gathering of men and tonight she was in a particularly black mood. “What?” she enquired sharply as her husband and daughter entered. “Come to see me in pain? Or are you truly looking forward to me spawning another useless brat for you?” she said, her face leering at Skarrazi only a step away from hatefully. “You know I don’t enjoy seeing you in pain Hulazan, but yes I am truly happy that tonight we will be blessed with another beautiful child.” Lunesca’s father replied, unwavering under the weight of his wife’s scorn.

“Do you need anything Hulazan my love? Something to eat or drink?” he continued picking his daughter up and placing her carefully onto his lap. “Well, first you can get that,” she said pointing a perfectly groomed hand at Lunesca, “That… child, out of here. I don’t need to be reminded of the last time I was ripped in two because of you!” Her eyes flashed a look of pure resentment at the small troll who was obliviously curling her father’s hair between her fingers. “I will listen to much of your venom Hulazan but do not begin to believe I will not protect my own child even against yourself my love. I adore and love you but my children are my world.” Skarrazi said still smiling into the eyes of his daughter as he spoke. “Then if you wouldn’t mind Skarrazi, kindly fuck off and find me a real man. A man who’s physical…’features’ live up to my needs.” Hulazan replied, now obviously willing for the reaction from her husband she seemed to be failing to acquire. Skarrazi looked up, a genuine grin still spread across his handsome and open features. “Oh my love, for all your adventures with your friends you never fail to return to my bed. I wonder, and inquire if I may… if my features fail to meet your needs why should you return so often?” Hulazan allowed a small and almost beaten sigh to leave her throat obviously unable to reply and turned herself over onto her side and began to plait her hair.

Hours passed as Skarrazi played with his daughter never forgetting to offer his wife anything and everything she needed and in turn, never cracking under the words that rolled so effortlessly from her vicious and spiteful lips.

And then, it was time.

Lunesca looked up to her mother as her face reddened and twisted in pain, each breath violently attempting to escape her lungs in time with every convulsion. She couldn’t help but notice that as her mother screamed and pushed her father’s tears fell to the floor. For all his words of encouragement and all his efforts to help her, and even after all Hulazan’s jibes and bile… he still could not stand to see his wife in any kind of pain.

It was sunrise when the child was finally raised into the air, clean and wrapped in blankets. Her skin was so blue Lunesca’s eyes could not help but look up at her little sister and smile brightly. Skarrazi fell in love with the child the moment he saw her. “She is a beauty my love,” he said, the same smile on his face he always sported with his eldest, “what should we call her?” Hulazan looked up from her nails replying emotionlessly excluding a small tint of what could be described as frustration. “Yes Skarrazi, because I actually care!” She turned her attention now to the wooden bath next to her bed. “I am going to clean up and sleep, I have things to do tonight and I don’t wish to waste anymore time or energy on you or your children.”

Walking back to their hut Lunesca looked up at her father who smiled kindly down on her. “Dad, what are you going to name her?” she asked excitedly, so happy to have a smaller sister. Her father smiled upon his eldest daughter and then again looking at the new child. “Tyrramir, we will call her Tyrramir. The ceremony is tomorrow night so we still have something to look forward to.”

Still to this day Lunesca could remember little of the ceremony. But she remembered the events that followed. Tyrramir learnt fast like her older sister. Lunesca would watch her little sister smiling, so proud that she had a younger sibling so talented and so pretty. Her dislike for her mother however was now growing. Where her father would teach Tyrramir one way, Hulazan would go out of her way to tell her different. It was often she would see her younger sister not only confused but dizzy from the discussions she held with her parents.

From time to time Lunesca would try to help Tyrramir decide for herself between the options her parents put before her rather than blindly believing everything she was told and in time Tyrramir grew to be just as thoughtful and contemplative as Lunesca.

One night the children made their way inside from the cold evening air to find their father sat at the table alone and quiet. Realising something was wrong Lunesca took Tyrramir behind the wolf skin curtains and put her into the bath their father had prepared for his daughters. “I be back in a minuet Tyr okay?” she said, double checking the water was not deep enough to be a danger.

Lunesca sat across the table from her father and put both of her hands around her father’s. “Where she be?” she asked quietly, looking up into her fathers watery eyes. “She left, said she’d come back sometime but…” Skarrazi looked down to the floor, “Come here child,” he said affectionately, holding back the lump in his throat. “You and your sister, I love you both very much you know? You are the only things in the world more important to me than your mother. Whatever happens, wherever she goes I will never cast you aside my Lunesca.”

“She doesn’t be wantin’ us does she?” Lunesca asked, surprisingly less upset than she thought she would be. “Your mother…your mother doesn’t love anyone Lunesca, there is nothing wrong with you. You know this.” Lunesca nodded and wrapped her arms around her father who held on to his daughter so tightly but carefully. “Let’s go see Tyrramir shall we?” he said, a smile returning to his face.

Five weeks passed as the children and their father bonded. He would teach them both to cook, make bandages, make camp fires and even how to fish. They would laugh and smile and in the evenings return home to eat, tell stories and sleep. Life was wonderful if only for a short time they were happy together. But, it was not meant to last as on the full moon at the end of the five weeks… Hulazan was to return with an Amani troll in tow.

Kara’aa was an interesting troll. Dressed in a purple rimmed hat lined with Zevra leather and a matching pair of pants he caused a rather interesting first impression. Giving no explanation to his presence or her whereabouts for so long she simply packed her belongings into a case and moved into the hut he had just bought for her across the fire leaving Skarrazi alone once again with no explanation and two children.

Time moved on and Skarazzi sunk himself into the pursuit of becoming one of the greatest hunters Azeroth would ever see. His strength and wit grew day after day as his collection of armour and weapons expanded so much they had to invest in a new home. Day after day Skarrazi would leave early in the morning so as to return by dusk to spend time with his daughters.

From time to time Hulazan would come to the door and speak to him, sneering and sniping at every possible opportunity yet never meeting with anything less than warm and kindly comments. She would take money from their father and leave again never even ‘stooping so low’ as to thank him.

It was during this time in which Skarrazi was called to audience with Vol’Jin, the great leader of the Darkspear tribe and friend to Thrall. Skarrazi was to meet with him to receive an honour for saving the life of one of his tribesmen. On one of his many journeys out into Azeroth, Skarrazi had freed a Darkspear tribesman from the grasps of a rather nasty group of Dark Iron dwarves. To honour this he would receive a talisman which would strengthen the blows of his arrows.

It was upon hearing of this honour, Hulazan came to visit her husband and charm her way into an invite offering to be there to help him keep up the appearance in front of the leader of the horde trolls. Skarrazi knew then it was nothing of the sort, she wished to meet Vol’Jin so she could bed him, but even so the smile she sported on leaving their home seemed to be enough to satisfy him after extending a rather strained invitation.

It was only when entering the valley of wisdom that it truly hit Lunesca, the magnificent but almost primal surroundings which made the forces of the horde so inspiring. Drums were beaten allowing a low and trembling vibration to sweep across the ground underfoot as the rhythm from each pound onto the taught surface of Kodo skin echoed not only through her ears but the entire of her body. Emotion swelled up inside the small troll, like a fire raging in her heart that warmed her body as if she was home, for the first time she was truly somewhere she belonged.

Lunesca noticed as her father entered the great hall, his family not a step behind him, why this was to be such a great honour. Thrall himself was no more than a few steps away from Lunesca as she looked up to him and kneeled remembering her manners. “Lok’thar young troll. Rise from your knees so I can see you.” Thrall addressed her in a friendly tone, looking down into her eyes with a smile on his face. Lunesca rose to her feet timidly. Thrall was only a foot or so taller than she but his presence was impressive. You see, trolls of the Luna’Skari, in fact… most trolls, grow quickly in comparison to other races however their lifespan is much shorter. Lunesca at even this young age was of adult size in comparison to humans or elves.

Thrall was dressed in armour of black and gold, his face was that of a wizened and knowledgeable orc. Even his voice held a tone of unspoken authority without once attempting to enforce it. “You are young troll, but your eyes show a thirst for better things. Tell me, when you were born what path were you destined for?” Lunesca took a moment to absorb the question. When she was to answer, she would answer as best she could. Allowing a large breath into her chest she replied, taking care not to allow her words to falter. “My path not be clear to me yet, if I be knowin’ mah destiny I be havin’ nothing ta learn. But what I be knowin’ is dat I am tuned to the skill wid axe and bow, like ma father and mother.”

Thrall threw his head back in laughter and smiled with an affection towards the youngling that stood before him. “You are wise beyond your years little one, you must cause your parents to suffer great pride in you. It is rare even from people who would be your elders for me to hear such a humble answer. You are welcomed to Orgrimmar and to the lands of the Horde with open arms.” With that Thrall gestured Lunesca to Vol’Jin and her parents still smiling just as before.

Skarrazi was stood before the leader of the Darkspear whom was placing a pendant around her father’s neck. Obviously having heard the words to have just passed between Thrall and Skarrazi’s daughter he looked towards her and her sister he had commented that “The daughters of those with beauty and strength were the women who of natural consequence would mate with the best of men and become the best of their blood.” Yet had not commented upon the looks of Hulazan personally, in fact ignoring her advances entirely as she flirted and fluttered her eyelashes at him causing Lunesca to feel more than nauseous.

It was only upon leaving Orgrimmar Lunesca’s heart pulled at her chest… she knew one day she would return here alone and with far more to think on than she did now.

Lunesca turned over in her bed, facing out towards the moonlit grounds outside the hut and closed her eyes once more. Her dreams so haunting, so painful she could barely force herself once more to sleep in hope they would lift and allow her to sleep in pure nothingness.

Tyrramir was the younger of the two, both of the daughters being exceptionally beautiful in the eyes of trolls. However, she was one of the children soon to be tested for their worthiness of gaining the mark. Lunesca being the older had caused more than a few problems over this eventuality… personally lashing out at the Elders in verbal torrents of abuse for their belief that it was their right to send her sister to a possible death.

Her affection for her younger sister grew each day as she watched her playfully nurturing sparks and flames on her fingertips and sending them flashing forward like small fireworks popping and dancing in the winds. Ever since the naming ceremony it had been evident to her family that Tyrramir was destined to wield the powers of the elements. Her affinity however with the element of fire was both useful and worrying. She couldn’t even count the times on two hands that Tyrramir had managed to boil her own bath water while still sat in it, set fire to random appliances around the house and caused the entire of their home to warm up instantly on her return each evening.

She had a specific talent for cooking surprisingly enough, Lunesca had given up attempting to cook for the family for by now it had come to the stage where Tyrramir’s kills in Durotar would be bought home already nicely cooked through. Lunesca couldn’t complain though… it was nice to see her younger sister able to proudly present dinner to her father on the evenings.

It was on the night of the half moon before Tyrramir’s birthday that the sisters sat out on the shores of the closest of the echo isles and began to talk. They both knew that Lunesca was soon to face her second trial of battle, not long to be followed by Tyrramir’s trial for right of passage into the Luna’Skari. As Tyrramir had not been conceived under the light of the full moon she would face a trial giving her the right to begin on the trials that Lunesca was soon to continue to attempt. In a way it was almost a trial to prove your right to be in the tribe and continue to risk your life to prove your worth as a full blood.

Lunesca hated keeping back her knowledge of what her younger sister was to face. He father and her had hoped their continual opposition against the Elders traditions would have been effective before the time came. But it was at this stage Lunesca was beginning to doubt their ability to change anything.

Lunesca looked to the sky, sighing heavily under the weight of this burden and addressed her sister. “Ya be okay Tyr? The night be warmer than I expected or is it just the company I be keeping?” she said winking playfully at the youngling. “I can’t help it you know?” Tyrramir replied, sitting herself down next to Lune. “Ya be getting’ stronger little sister,” Lunesca looked over the horizon and out into the distance, “Father and me be proud of ya!” “I’m not al that strong yet Luney,” came a sullen voice from beside her, “I can feel the powers inside of me but… I can’t reach it, it’s always just too far away.” Lunesca moved closer to her sister putting her arm around the little troll’s shoulders. “Ya know, I feel like dat too sometimes, I tink we all do. It be when ya have talent but ya still need to learn.”

“It’s different for you though, you have your pet, you have father to learn from. I have to learn on my own and I still keep setting the house on fire.” Tyrramir was now looking up into the sky overhead a small tear glimmering in one eye.

“You have Veri’ta, he is a shaman, he taught you to do da ting with da earth where it all starts ta shake.”

Tyrramir sighed, allowing the single tear to roll down her cheek. “The earth is boring though Luney, and he doesn’t understand fire like I do. He thinks it’s the same with all the elements. Fire is so much more… powerful.”

Lunesca shivered as a cold adrenaline surged through her spine. She reached into her pack and removed a bottle of water which she passed to her sister. Unbeknown to her, the solid form of ice within the bottle that left her hand melted in the scorching grasp of her sister whom took a sip and passed it back, the boiling water cooling and freezing once more at the touch of Lunesca’s fingertips. Lunesca tipped the bottle back holding it to her lips.

“None left, we be goin’ home I t’ink den.” She said as Tyrramir got to her feet.

Lunesca’s second trial was to pass far more quickly and easily than she had thought. She was to master the art of poisoning an arrow and shooting it into the heart of a great beast…once she had achieved this she was to lure the beast back to the village before it died from the poison and present it to the alchemist of Sen’Jin so as to allow him to experiment on the creature and hopefully discover how to remove the ailment.

Even then she had known that this level of skill was beneath her. It was of standard for a second trial but like her father Lunesca was excelling and learning rapidly. The shot was fired and less than an hour later she returned to Sen’Jin unchallenged and unsatisfied by her so called achievement. Leaving the alchemist to his work Lunesca could overhear the voices of the Elders and her father in great debate over the fate of Tyrramir.

“I do not see, council, why it should be that my daughter must face this trial when we are all present in this room knowing full well she is of my blood and therefore part of this bloodline whether conceived by the moon or otherwise. It is not by her failing that her mother and myself happened to make love on a night you didn’t have scribed into your journals as acceptable or convenient.” Lunesca rarely heard her father’s voice so angry as he sounded at this moment. “I don’t see why an innocent child should be put up against an extra trial for the sake of something her parent’s did while young and full of mojo!”

Lunesca had to give it to her father, even in his anger he had attempted to soften the hearts of the council with his humour, but to no avail. Upon hearing such replies as “The child is weak in comparison to those of us blessed wid da moonlight,” and “It has been tradition for da children of da Luna’Skari, why would we be makin’ an exception for you and you only?” Lunesca felt compelled to enter herself into the discussion.

“Ma sister be strong as any of da tribe mon, she be out dere every day doin’ tings dat each’a ya own young not be darin’ ta do even fully prepared. But ya know full well ya be more harsh on da trials of the half moons dan ya are on ya own! She be facin’ trials even if ya accept her as a true Luna’Skari sa why ya gotta be makin’ ‘er face death so young?” Lunesca’s voice caused the Elders to fall silent as looks of rage passed across each of their faces. “GET THAT CHILD OUT OF HERE NOW!” came a voice from behind the crowd of trolls. Lunesca recognised it immediately and as she saw the figure that immerged from the direction from which the shrill screams had been heard her fear was confirmed. Dressed in council robes right before her very eyes was Hulazan and Kara’aa her new found friend.

“You won’t be getting’ rid a me dat easily when ya be sendin’ YOUR OWN DAUGHTER into da midst of her own death! You ain’t doin’ it ya hear me? Even if she be sent out dere ya gonna regret it. Each fu…” Lunesca looked up at her father who stood not to far from her, just as shocked as the council but where their faces showed rage and frustration her father seemed almost proud.

“…each one of you. She’ll come back I’ll see to it she does. An’ one day when ya all be old, yeah Hula OLD, ya be hatin’ tha day ya did dis. Take mercy on ‘er please mother. Please. Ya mus’ love ‘er somewhere in dat black heart of yours. Please?” The small troll’s words faded into sobbing as her mother smirked and cackled with amusement.

Lunesca’s calls of mercy however were to go unheard and on the night of Tyrramir’s removal she was to find herself torn between her father and following the sister that could already be walking dead. The elders strapped armour to Tyrramir’s tiny frame, the leather harnesses far to large for her and looked to be more of a hindrance than help. Lunesca had been bound by her wrists for most of the evening having attempted to find out where it was the youngling was being sent and why by sneaking into the councilmen‘s hut and ransacking it in her hurry to find the parchment she was looking for.

Tyrramir had now turned to face the crowd, her eyes glistening as torrents of tears spilt from her eyes. Her father couldn’t be seen in the crowd, (having been “temporarily incarcerated for allowing a minor to breach council security”) but her young eyes fell upon the sight of her sister, fighting and struggling against the two huge trolls whom held her in place. “Luney!” She cried over the noise, her voice trembling. “Luney, you’re here! You are coming too right? You said you’d never leave me and you are here! I knew you wouldn’t break your promise. Where’s daddy? Is he coming too? Oh, it’ll all be okay if you are there Luney, it’s all going to be okay!” the small troll’s eyes glimmered with hope as she forced a smile along with her belief that she may not have been about to face the cold, black night alone. “I, get off me ya damn brute, fu… get off me!” Lunesca screamed kicking and struggling with all she had left in her.

“It’s okay Luney they’re going to put on your armour for you it’s easier if you don’t struggle. Look! They put armour on me too!” Tyrramir called spinning on the spot to show her sister. “Are you proud of me Luney? Look, I’ve got my own staff too!” The staff the small child held up to the sky was far bigger than the child that held it, it’s feeble wooden poles held together with little more than linen and string. It’s likelihood to stand up to anything in a fight was doubtful. “Oh and Luney… can we take more food? I’m hungry and I’ve only got one piece of bread.” Tyrramir said, beginning to loose faith in the likelihood her sister would be joining her as she watched the two large troll’s force their hands around Lunesca’s mouth. “…Luney?” Tyrramir whispered beginning to despair.

Lunesca managed to free herself from the clutches of her wardens for long enough to scream to her sister, the last words she could manage spilling from her mouth so fast and panicked that she almost choked on them. “Tyr, I’ll find you… I will, I will find you. Don’t go getting’ inta trouble okay? Jus’ wait…” with that, everything went dark as a mace was forced down onto her skull cracking the bone beneath it’s force.

It was a few hours that passed before Lunesca dragged her weakened frame to it’s feet. Shaking off the pain of a headache stabbing into her brain the realisation of what had taken place sunk once more into the thoughts.

She fell to her knees crying out her sister’s name over and over until the only replies she could hear were the echoes the mountains surrounding her would return.

“Tyr, ya be okay… ya be okay ya know. I’ll find ya, I will. They be pay…” the mark branded onto her left shoulder began to itch as Lunesca stood. She knew what she was about to do. Taking a short blade from the floor of the hut she sat by the fire taunting it with the cold metal until it began to glow red, then white. It was at this moment she entered the hut where the council were gathered.

“Shut… up!” She demanded, her voice failing her. “SHUT UP!” She tried again, this time succeeding as the room around her fell into a eerie silence.

Lunesca moved her way across the room, placed the blade into the fire in the centre and spoke.

“Ya all ’ave sent her to what could be ’er final days. Ya have scarred me and da father we love dearly. Ya have shown no mercy an’ in ya time shown no ties in heart to da true Luna’Skari. I not be a part of it no more!”

Her hand wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, it’s blade once more glowing white from the heat. Placed it to the skin of her left shoulder and began to saw away at the flesh upon which her branding lay. A strange sensation coursed through her as the heat met with her skin. Where the blade met it would slice through with ease at fist contact but after less than a second it would become so cold the sensation almost burnt. Lunesca persisted and after a slow few minuets green flesh fell onto the floor as blood poured from the wound as black and thick as tar.

“I be telling’ ya now, send me out dere… send me on da trial she be facin’. Make me prove ma worth now I ‘ave cut ya from ma body. LET ME GO FIGHT IT AND BRING ‘ER BACK!”

Tyrramir was never to find out about Lunesca’s dealings with the council from there on. But, only through cowering to the rage of the children’s father did the council agree to accept both daughters back into the tribe. On the understanding that they were successful in the tasks that they were charged with.

The story of Lunesca’s trial is less than entertaining, thus I shall not bore you with it’s details. The simple way to tell of what happened is to say that the threat from Zalazane of the Echo isles is no longer something anyone need fear. As always Lunesca returned successful in the task she had been given but far less than triumphant. She doubted highly that she had been sent on the same quest her sister had. In fact the possibility she had even been in the same area was pretty shaky. But she had to try… surely?

The sun would rise and set, day after day the possible return of Tyrramir became less and less of a likelihood. Lunesca had made a name for herself as a bad influence. Opposing the council at every turn and acting against her mother every step of the way. She would pass her trials over and over never once failing through true determination to spite the Elders. She suffered more trials than it had ever been known a younger to face but in time she began to enjoy the opportunity to venture out and look for Tyrramir under the guise of yet another trial.

It was on the day of her birthday that in one foul swoop, Lunesca was about to loose all she had left.

Whispers began amongst the tribe that a new foe had been discovered. A beast of unbelievable power, capable of disguise and trickery, leader of a brood of younglings just as dark of heart as their brood mother. Many of the Luna’Skari had fallen in their attempts to slay this great beast… blood shed and screams of agony howled towards the moon still echoed like whispers carried by the winds back to the homeland of the tribe. Only one name needed to be whispered to strike fear into the hearts of even their most hardened fighters, the name of the lady of the Black Dragonflight; Onyxia.

Lunesca and her father knew a long time before it was said, Skarrazi was to be chosen to lead the wave into her lair, and in time and under the guise of it being “The Trail of the Greatest Hunter” or his initiation onto the Elder Council, the mission was passed to him. It was that day their fears were confirmed. Their hearts were not similar enough to the Skari, they were merciful and found more honour in allowing an enemy to have a chance of seeing their wrongs whereas the Luna’Skari were becoming more and more infected by the bastard sons of Hulazan and whichever council member had bid more gold for her on the nights of a full moon. They were vile beings and the Elder Council was now full of more and more of the young, meaning most of them were younger than Lunesca herself, and far more blood thirsty.

Under the influence of their mother, the council had wanted rid of them for a long time believing that mercy was a weakness of heart, and this was how they were about to achieve their goal. That night, the last night Skarrazi would spend in his home and with his daughter he wept. He had been a father and a friend to Lunesca and always remained faithful to the woman who was still to this day his wife. He went out into the centre of the village and sung the ancient hymn of the moon to his daughter, and the window of his one love’s hut. A song long forgotten by the Luna’Skari of that day. His voice would travel across the lands so far that eve those who took time to listen to the passing of the wind would hear his voice melodically and passionately singing the song of his heart. His last words to Hulazan were those of love. She may have never heard them and he may never have realised but Lunesca’s heart flashed pure darkness when she was sure she heard her mothers laugh in reply to Skarrazi’s words.

“It be by moon, it be by da light of da sun… me be lovin’ only you and da miracles you ‘ave given me, I fogiv’ ya Hulazan. My blood make ya proud of me.”

The next evening he was to depart, the great quest he was about to take upon was to begin. Knowing that there were still those he believed to be loyal to him he instructed them in his last law. You see, when a Luna’Skari sets out upon their great quest they may pass a law of blood to be followed by those he would leave behind. His law was that no troll under the banner of the horde or of a neutral stance was to ever be harmed by a member of the Luna’Skari unless in self defence. If they don’t spill troll blood, neither do you.

His departure was a torturous one for his remaining child. Lunesca begged her father to let her go with him over and over pleading him not to leave her and not to let her loose him. She was scared and alone, without him how would she grow strong enough to find Tyrramir? Without him… she had no guidance and worst of all she would loose the last person she dared to love. Her words, though heartbreaking to the ears of her father were to no avail and all to quickly his final words were spoken and he had disappeared into the darkness leaving the last tears he would ever cry on the hand of his beloved daughter. Lunesca stood still and immovable for hours until the sun began to rise overhead, her father’s words still ringing in her ears.

“Ya be more dan I am one day ma child, ya be da greatest of all hunters and da legend I can neva be. Me love ya child and ma spirit be wid da true followers of da moonlight… always.”

Even in sleep the words did not rest, did not jumble, did not move. They ran over and over through Lunesca’s mind stabbing into her heart as she remembered so many things she had always wished to ask him. Her father, the man who had raised her and her sister may never see her again.

The next morning Lunesca watched from her hut as the events the tribe had so desperately tried to hide from her father came to light. The Luna’Skari were soon to perform a ritual, summoning an elemental lord to give them powers beyond what should naturally have been their own. Lunesca listened and watched the Elder Council as they bought together their plans and spoke about them now so openly she felt sick.

The ritual would make her mother a Shaman of unimaginable power. A Shaman personally attuned to a fire lord and capable of calling upon HIS powers as well as her own. Not only had her mother humiliated her husband, abandoned her children and disgraced the true Luna’Skari, but now she was to steal a power the gods had never intended for her.

The ritual was to take place atop the mountain not far from their home. The Elders were so elated with the powers the tribe was soon to be “blessed with” they didn’t even notice as the young hunter gathered her weapons and followed behind, hatred and revenge glistening in her eyes. She was no longer one of them. She was now alone, their orders for her to remain in the village meant less than nothing to her.

They trekked the steep sides of the mountain and after only a short while the group of ritualist shamans had circled around Hulazan each holding their required symbol of elements. The ritual began, chanting sweeping across the lands as the guards began to sing. Flames rose from the ground seemingly from nowhere, lashing up the bodies of the Elders as they continued to call upon the powers of the great fire lord.

Lunesca lay down watching and after what must have been more than a few hours a large figure appeared in the central circle. It was almost ghost like had it not been surrounded by a fiery red glow, it was the shape of, Lunesca could only describe as a tornado… flames lashing around it’s incorporeal body whirling so hypnotically it began to cause her to feel dizzy.

All of a sudden the ritual fell silent and so still they were nought more than statues. The only people remaining animate being Hulazan who stood within the middle with this being and Lunesca, too far away from the circle to be effected by the wave of silent petrification.

“Who dares disturb the work of my brethren? It has been many an age since I was last called upon Troll, do not waste my time!” The being’s earth shatteringly deep voice causing cracks to appear in the ground beneath him.

“I call upon you great fire lord to bless me with the elemental powers you hold. In return I pledge to you my services and undying loyalties.” Hulazan’s shrill voice replied. She sounded as if she was suffering, in agony almost… without strength. Lunesca crawled slowly and furtively across the flat ground remaining just out of sight from her mother but also more than capable of seeing both figures that now stood in silence before each other.

Her mother’s skin once of the deepest purple was beginning to pinken and bleed… the flesh of her face bubbled under the great heat emitting from the fire lord’s aura. Her hair was beginning to shrivel not so much burning as melting slowly into her scalp.

“Why should I form allegiance with such a weak and pathetic race? I have alliances far more powerful and far more numerous than this… this “tribe” I see standing around you! I wonder if you even truly know who I am, so blinded by your need to steal the powers you were never born with! Tell me, TROLL… as you stand before me burning to ashes before my very eyes, how exactly do you propose to be of use to me?”

“As we speak lord, armies of alliance and horde alike flood the mountain of Blackrock… surging through and depleting your supporters numbers. You as you well know will not be leaving the core too soon. My tribe does not know of whom they have summoned but you are wrong… I am aware of who and what you are. You are Ragnaros, the servant of the old gods, the fire lord whom stood against the titans. Strong as you are you have proved yourself not to be indestructible. Even in my state as I am now I offer you…”

“YOU OFFER ME NOTHING! THE TITANS DID THEIR WORK AGAINST ME AND YET I AM STILL HERE! THE HORDE NOR THE ALLIANCE HAVE THE FORCES OR NUMBERS TO SHOW A TRUE MATCH FOR MY STRENGTH!”

The cracks within the floor below began to widen and spew molten lava like blood from the deepest of wounds. Lunesca shuddered as the heat from the ground caused blisters to rise from her bare skin.

Her mother, now little more than bare flesh and blood spoke now with a determined and unreal strength.

“I offer you a force capable of allegiance with the forces of the horde. A army of growing numbers capable of wandering the lands of Azeroth without suspicion. You forget surely that you and your numbers remain within the volcano… and reach not much further. I am offering you a chance to, branch out shall we say?”

Silence fell over the mountain, the only sounds to be heard were those of the flames still lashing around the great figure that Lunesca now knew as Ragnaros. After what seemed like an age the burning figure of the fire lord emitted what can only be described as a loud and thundering howl.

“I can wander these lands, I can move forward and into Azeroth. Do not forget troll, if you know so much; it was I who served the old Gods, it is I who returned from the prison the titans attempted to keep me in… it is I who stands as the victor over the Thunder prince Thunderaan and consumed his pathetic essence. YOU have done little more than fail in everything you have done within your… ‘trials’. Explain therefore how you believe yourself to be strong enough not to fail?”

To Lunesca’s surprise Hulazan let out the loudest and most cold laugh Lunesca had ever heard.

“I have overthrown one of the strongest horde affiliated tribes using nothing more than my wit and beauty. My skill with bow and axe were not as good as my husband’s… or that ‘offspring’ of mine. But what you do not realise is that I gave birth to a child who needs not to be taught her alignment with the elements. I bore a child who naturally possesses the powers of your elements. She may not even know what this means yet but I have seen it. My womb has spewed fourth nothing that means more to me than great power. My tribe is strong where I am weak and yet I still control them more than any other who has attempted to rule through violence. My only weakness is my own power within battle. What you may not know is that none of my children are deemed of age. Lunesca will become of age within our blood in two moons from now she therefore is worthless. Tyrramir though…”

Lunesca’s heart sank as every moment of her life leading to this point flashed before her eyes. How had she not seen this sooner? How had she not realised what was now about to happen?

“Tyrramir is of strength, elementally attuned and as she is now, not of age… she is still under the tie of my blood meaning…”

The booming voice finally thundered across the plains below shattering the lands into craters of fire below.

“Meaning you are still her charge, capable of sacrificing without her will as a necessity.”

“Exactly,” replied Hulazan, her skin beginning to slowly heal in the flames as her hair grew once more into long strands reaching down her back. “Through me you can settle part of yourself within her without her presence being needed. No longer will you be entirely whole as a strand of your being will lie within the child. This being for your protection… part of you will live beyond any imprisonment, part of you will live outside any cage and who would turn to a small troll believing it to be harbouring your essence? You will become a formidable power more so than you are now… all for the price of giving me what I ask for.”

“And what makes you think you are about to walk away from me, alive and well?”

“Should you kill me, your tie to her cannot be bridged and one I leave this circle I am beyond your reach. You have seven moons in which to complete the rituals it will require to do this. I am necessary as Tyrramir will not do such a thing when she becomes independent of my will and blood tie. I am her mother and still capable of making such a decision without her knowledge. The final ritual will take place and I shall die, you will allow me to be reborn with the powers I have asked for because if you don’t, you loose the protection my tribe will provide for Tyrramir within Azeroth. I don’t think you will want to loose something so precious to you through killing me.”

“And the child… she will not suspect the tribe that has rejoined her after casting her aside so easily?”

“Tyrramir returned to Sen’jin upon completing her trial. She had been successful which is when I realised what I had to do. She was sent away once more… banished from our sights. We were lucky that Lunesca had been sent out that night… for all her youth she is much like her father and we would have suffered serious losses had she understood then what was happening. She is a clever one you see… right now she hides in the mountain beyond my sight but has listened to every moment of this. Just how I intended. But she is not part of the tribe. As long as I stand, even upon hearing this… she will fight for her sister and the memory of her father through spite for what I have done…”

“But she is not your tribe…”

“The tribe will soon disown her this is true, but already Val’Jarn stalks Tyrramir watching and protecting her every move. He was her fathers… friend,” at the word ‘friend’ she burst out laughing. “I needed him from the start and upon realising that I had the curves only I could serve to him… he agreed to help me. Skarazzi trusted Val’Jarn with his life and when the time came it was Val’Jarn who convinced the stupid troll to go on this quest to his death. After this I sent him out to watch Tyrramir because, should she notice him she will trust him just as her moron father did. As for Lunesca, on hearing this she will follow her sisters path even knowing that it is as I planned. She will not attempt to kill Val’Jarn as long as he is stronger and therefore far more capable of watching her sister. In time Lunesca will overthrow Val’Jarn but by then it will be too late. Our time will have come and Lunesca… well… she will not harm her sister. Val’Jarn acts upon my orders only, bless him he loves me as much as Skarazzi did. Even his softened heart for Lunesca will not sway him.”

“As for the rest of the tribe? And what makes you believe Lunesca will not simply tell her sister of Val’Jarn’s betrayal?”

Hulazan stopped in her tracks and sighed openly at the great figure before her.

“Would you trust the sister you believed had allowed you to leave, allowed you to be banished and allowed your father to wander out to quest alone and die? Or would you trust the troll who had tracked and watched you, befriended your father for many years and seemingly come to help you?”

She paused, looking down at her body which was now fully restored to it’s original appearance. Fire flickering from her fingertips.

“As for the tribe, we will befriend the horde and when the time comes… when they venture into the core we will stand along side them all. When the time is right we will strike by YOUR side and spread our forces out into Azeroth with your minions. In time, as you know… it is believed that the Thunder prince Thunderaan will be reborn. He wields the great blade Thunderfury. In honour to you we will slay what remains of his essence since you consumed him and bring you the blade in your honour. Side by side, Sulfuron, your hand… and the blade of Thunderfury will become mounted upon your cave walls and you will hold two of the most legendary weapons known to these lands. You have this guarantee because should we fail… you can and will take back the powers you have bestowed upon us.”

With that the fire lord grew, soaring into the air above his now huge and formidable shape larger than the mountain on which he stood. Fire poured from the scars in the land as lava and flames licked their way across the mountain top.

“I, FIRELORD RAGNAROS PLEDGE AN ALLIGIANCE TO THE TRIBE OF THE LUNA’SKARI. YOUR POWER AND LIVES NOW ATTUNED TO THAT OF THE PATH OF FIRE. YOU SHALL BE GRANTED YOUR WISH FROM THIS DAY FOURTH MAY THE POWERS OF THE SHAMAN COME SWIFTLY TO YOU AND YOUR BLOOD.”

With that… the land around Lunesca dissolved, and all went dark.

When she awoke Lunesca was alone, in the same place she had passed out. The land was now cool and silent, no scars or remaining wounds in the land were visible and the lava and flames she had seen what had only seemed like moments before had vanished leaving no trace. She drew herself up to her feet and began her trek back down the mountain and home to Sen’jin.

On arrival she could hear laughing and what appeared to be the sight of the Luna’Skari dancing. Her mother could be seen sat in the middle of the crowd her appearance now vastly different to what it had once been. Her once purple and long hair was now red and orange, her skin a vile and bright shade of yellow. Where her green eyes had once been there were hollows now holding flames of bright white. She was taller from what Lunesca could tell, now towering above the rest of them. She was the same height while sat as her family were while stood. The trolls on her right and left Lunesca recognised as the trolls who had performed the ritual along side her mother. Each of them had marks resembling flames now tattooed on to their faces. Their tusks now transparent seemed to be in casing flames within them.

Lunesca listened from where she stood, hearing chants from the bastard sons of the Amani and the Luna’Skari as they hailed the great lord Ragnaros when suddenly a blood curdling scream echoed out across the shore and rang within Lunesca’s ears. Slipping her way inside she saw that a large troll lay dead on the ground still alight with flame. The troll on the ground was that of one of the few pure blood Luna’Skari left. To one side of the room stood a line of the six other remaining pure bloods, unarmed and obviously dazed. To the other stood the rest, the sons and daughters of Hulazan. In front of Lunesca her mother stood over the body now turning to ashes in the middle of the room and looked up to the six, now rather terrified tribe members.

“Now that I have been accepted I must cleanse the tribe of those who do not share my blood. I am a breeder you see, and your presence here only dilutes my power and the power of my offspring. I must say it is regrettable that I will see the last remaining hunters slain, but much more comfortable for me. You remind me only of that pathetic excuse for a husband of mine and his daughter.”

Two of the six were bought to the front, Lunesca recognised them as two of the daughters of Val’Jarn and his once wife Skaliza. They were plain amongst the midst of Hulazan, still as unfortunately beautiful as she always had been and her daughters all of whom had inherited their mothers looks. Lunesca knew that her mother had always despised Tyrramir and herself for having not only taken on her looks but their father’s natural strength and wisdom. They had been the objects of her jealousy for many years since even before their meeting with Vol’Jin of the Darkspear it had been more than evident.

“Of the six before me only you both have the chance to see the lands of Azeroth beyond this night. You may die here in blood and flame or take it upon yourselves to assure me that you shall never dilute the strength in blood we have formed within this tribe.”

The smaller of the two trolls who were forcefully put to their knees before Hulazan spoke quietly and meekly in her presence. “Spare me and I shall never feel the touch of a man again.” At this point the taller of the two looked up into Hulazan’s eyes sobbing relentlessly until mucus and tears fell from her eyes and nose onto the floor in front of her. “Spare me and I shall not only never feel the touch of a man again but I shall never deem to look into their eyes.” Hulazan laughed and threw her head back opening her mouth and releasing a breath of flame into the air.

“My girls, my poor innocent little girls. What use would you be to me if I could never allow you to have sex? Woman kind of our race are far more useful when their bodies can be, and will be given freely to those I deem useful enough to offer you to? Oh no my girls oh no… to both of you I give you a choice. Upon the table in front of your friends there are two vials. Both contain an elixir my wonderfully suave friend over there…” she pointed to a troll stood across the room from her. Lunesca recognised the signature purple leather hat and suit of this troll, his name was Kara’aa. The troll of the Amani her mother had returned with from her time away all those moons ago, “has brewed for you both. Believe me it will not kill you, many of his… his ‘employees’ have partaken of this rather special brewing…” before Hulazan could finish her sentence both trolls had ran to the table, popped the corks on the vials before them and swallowed the vile looking yellow liquid. It was not long before Lunesca realised what was happening.

Both girls fell to their knees once more, coughing and retching. Blood began to seep from their stomachs through their green tinted skins. The smaller one was writhing in pain as a loud popping noise seemed to burst from her midriff. Skin began to peel away from both of their abdomens and finally they had realised too… never again would they be able to bear the children of the Luna’Skari.

As both girls lay on the floor Hulazan took it upon herself to kick them to the side of the room clearing a path to the for remaining trolls who had by now, been hoisted up onto racks on the walls. Wooden spikes protruded through their shoulders holding them in place.

“They will be spared. Not long from now they will be working as my very own ladies in waiting. How wonderful it will be to no longer have to take time out of my day to perform all those ever so mundane tasks. They will not miss it much I assure you, that is a better fate than should they have bore any more,” she spat in the face of the youngest male attached to the wall, “filth!”

Hulazan walked away from the crowded group and her victims towards Lunesca and stood beside her smiling, she addressed the room.

“You said you were hungry, FEAST!”

With that, in a whirl of flames she lit the wooden beams beneath he four on fire. The flames lashed up, crawling slowly across their muscular forms. Before they had even died the Luna’Skari were tearing into the flesh of their once tribesmen. Tearing and hacking pieces from the legs as it cooked. The flames seemed to be of no harm to them as they pulled away strip after strip of browned and bloody meat. They devoured each piece as if it were nothing more than the flesh of a boar. Laughing and talking just as before.

Blood streamed from the eyes of the youngest troll on the end along with his tears, he was yet untouched by the ravenous crowd but was beginning to “crisp nicely along the bottom” as one hungry female pointed out. Lunesca was finally shaken back into action realising what she was seeing was in fact happening. She rose her bow quickly and steadily, Hulazan watching and smiling as her daughter shot a single arrow from her bow into the head of the small burning troll killing him instantly. Tears rolled from her eyes as three more shots took the pain from the other wall hangings and she turned her last arrow to her mother.

“If I shoot you now, you will kill me. I will be defeated and you will carry on. One day the arrow that leaves by bow will deliver the final blow to your body and your corpse will die in the flames of your own sin. You have destroyed all I love and now, there is only Tyrramir and the honour of my father. You are seductive Hulazan, not clever. You have ferocity but no taming in your heart. The lack of mercy you have within you will destroy you and those you love and hurt will haunt you for the rest of your days. Goodbye for now Hulazan, your fate is decided.”

Swiftly Lunesca turned her bow and aimed a sure shot into the crotch of Kara’aa beautifully aimed, blood spilt across the floor and stained the leather of his suit. She was so angry, so upset… the tears in her eyes had dried up as she ran forth an orange glow emitting from her hands as she swung her axe down on to his arm and cut up across the other cleanly removing them from his body.

“You will live your life without the pleasure your employees grant you for your gold, she will never have a hold on you again. You still have legs and I suggest you use them to run now… I will not kill you but I will take everything else you have if I ever see you again.”

She turned to the door where her mother still stood, shocked and almost weakened by the actions of her daughter as she screamed…

“Halazzi will have your head for this. You have taken away one of his followers. You have weakened the Amani avatar of the Lynx with your actions Lunesca and you will suffer by his hand and the flames of Ragnaros.”

Lunesca walked slowly to the door. None of the tribe would stop her she knew this, they were aware of Hulazan’s need for her to be alive. Her mother had forgotten one thing, right now Lunesca was invaluable to her but still had the attributes of BOTH parents. One day, Lunesca would find the weak point, but for now she would leave quietly.

Lunesca was key to the defeat of the last weak link in Hulazan’s plan. The last troop to have been sent out to watch Tyrramir would die of age not too many moons from now through old age and broken bone, however strong he may be it did not make him any younger. Lunesca was tied to helping Tyrramir for free and therefore Hulazan needed her. She could not spare her bastard children at this point to do the job they were numerous but still too few to offer to the horde as a worthwhile allegiance.

As she reached the door her mother spoke.

“The Amani, the group sent with your father… they killed him. In return we slaughtered their number, and their children. Only they knew where his body now lies Lunesca. You won’t live long without returning to me to ask where it happened you will come back even knowing I will kill you for this. You will see death long before any of us.”

Lunesca stopped and looked towards her mother as a darkness she had felt before rose inside her and an icy trickle ran through her veins. It was at this point unbeknown to Lunesca that her eyes turned to ice as her skin began to glow blue and white.

“What did you say to me?” She asked whispering so quietly but so venomously the room fell silent.

Hulazan looked stunned for a moment and said louder;

“YOUR FATHER WAS KILLED UNDER THE ORDERS GIVEN TO THE AMANI WE SENT WITH HIM! I PUT OUT THE ORDER AND TO SPITE YOU I HAD THEM KILLED, YOU WILL NEVER FIND HIS BODY LUNESCA… HE WILL REMAIN FOREVER CAST IN A DISHONORABLE GRAVE! YOU WILL NEVER FIND HIM AND NEVER BRING HIM HOME! HE IS GONE AND YOU WILL NEVER KILL ME BECAUSE ONLY I NOW KNOW WHERE HE ROTS!”

The cold adrenaline rushed through Lunesca’s head and heart as she rose her hand to draw an arrow… putting it to her bow her mother in turn raised her hands nurturing a ball of fire with more care than she had ever held her daughter.

“NO!” came a call from behind Lunesca. “You will NOT harm her!”

All of a sudden a growl of pure ferocity could be heard from the open air almost in a melody with an orcish howl mimicking that of a wolf cry. “She is MINE!” The voice roared coming closer and closer with every sound.

The events that followed must have taken place in a matter of seconds but it seemed like an age as everything slowed almost to a halt. Hulazan’s face ridden with shock and fear as an orc woman with a wolf mask mounted upon her head ran in along with a large tiger of dark grey white and black swept in alongside her. Suddenly the cat grew as a cry of “Nightpaw take her down!” could be heard. The orc woman swiftly moved along the outside of the room as the Luna’Skari ran to the other side too shocked to know if they should fight or disappear. With a single shot lava poured from a wound where an arrow had split her flesh. It wasn’t enough to kill her but enough to stun her momentarily.

The beast grew and began to take upon a red tint and in time the same happened to the orc who was now screaming at Lunesca, “I will kill her before she kills you, if you need her alive Lunesca… RUN!” Realising that she would be dishonouring her saviour Lunesca complied and ran from the room. As she ran into the open air she could make out the figure of another Orcish hunter whom was stood not too far away rapidly firing from his bow.

“You’ve met Jahadiel now then?” he shouted merrily firing arrows at any Luna’Skari who dared run in the direction of Lunesca. “If she’s in there teaching ‘er a lesson then yeah I’ve met her!” Lunesca said almost laughing at how little concentration he seemed to be putting in and yet still getting the job done. “Well, run if I were you, we’ll find you. She usually does.”

Lunesca ran. “She usually does?” Lunesca said to herself as she ran north. “What the hell does that mean?”

Eventually Lunesca had reached the gates of Orgrimmar. Surely she would be too easily found by the Luna’Skari there? They would figure she would go somewhere like this and rely on the city to protect her. So, with what little energy she had left within her she turned her heels and sped away.

Hours passed with Lunesca stopping from time to time to watch out for followers and rest hr legs. Nightfall had happened a long time before she had even woken up on the mountain so it must have been about time for the sun to rise. Lunesca had settled finally in a small tower across a bridge leading into the Barrens. There were a few of the grunts from Orgrimmar stationed down below so at least she figured they would be enough to warn her should anything untoward come after her. She sat in the shelter nibbling at the piece of fruit the grunt outside had given to her. Meat right now would only turn her stomach.

A dark and shapely figure Lunesca recognised appeared in the doorway. “I would be eating fruit right now if I were you too…” said the voice recognisable but far more calming than when Lunesca had last heard it. “I’ve been watching you for a while Lunesca, you know that right?” the voice said.

Lunesca looked up into the eyes of the figure before her who had now removed the mask to reveal a pretty, young yet wizened face. It was the face of Jahadiel… the woman who had just saved her life. “Your friend mentioned it.” It was all Lunesca could do to reply so shortly. Almost as if she had forgotten she would eventually have to speak.

“I am sorry I didn’t act sooner Lunesca, I had to know…”

“What?”

“I had to know, were you different from the rest of them or just a young troll rebelling.”

Lunesca nodded needing to ask no more questions on that statement. She understood enough to know that saving one like them would cause only pain and trouble for anyone who took pity on them.

“Why were you watching me?” She finally mustered, continuing to slowly make her way through her grapes and offering one to her new friend. “Not too long ago Lunesca, your sister came through Orgrimmar… pretty little troll, like you. She was crying out by the lake in the Valley of Honour holding a skull and a small piece cloth. She told me about you. Told me you would come after her. Her tribe had banished her for not being conceived in moonlight or something along those lines. She told me where she was from and wouldn’t say anything else. I saw her after that and asked her if she had found you… she was angry and said no. I don’t know why but she mentioned the name of your father, Skarrazi. I have heard it before but I can’t think where, so…”

Jahadiel laid her head backwards and sighed pausing before carrying on. Passing some water to Lunesca.

“I came down to Sen’Jin one night and saw you. I had just watched and listened as your tribe discussed the fate of your father. Realising he had gone already I made a choice to watch you or find out more about your father. But when I saw you my mind was made up. You were sat by the fire out of earshot of the tribe singing a song about the Keeper of the moonlight. You are young and realising the deeds of your kin and how uninvolved you were I saw you needing someone there. But I had to know before… for sure. I watched you make decisions and take actions lesser people would have dared to. Tonight you took mercy upon the suffering over revenge against those that hurt you. I don’t know… something told me all this time that one day you may need me. That’s why…”

Lunesca cut her off before she could finish, tears now streaming from her eyes as every pain and every moment of despair welled up within her. Out of nowhere she wrapped her arms around the orcish woman, sobbing and thanking her.

“Lunesca, you have a choice… you can hide or you can fight. It is your choice. You cannot get back those you have lost but it is your decision to stand against what has happened.”

Lunesca’s sobs faded into relief at the realisation that she was not alone. Taking a deep breath she finally spoke with courage and conviction once more. “I will fight, I will fight… all of it. My father will not lie in dishonour through her choosing. My sister will not suffer this, this curse alone.” Jahadiel let a small smile creep onto her face, her eyes lightened by the words of the small troll.

“I understand.” She replied, nodding slowly. “But you realise that Tyrramir, who I assume is your sister… the one I have met? Does not know all of this? To her you let her go, you let this happen. You and I know differently but you know she will be angry with you?”

A small tug of fear pulled inside Lunesca’s heart as she realised just how true Jahadiel’s words were. “I know,” she said quietly, “but I will not give up on her. Ever.”

The sun began to rise bringing a golden glow to the new day. The grass shone green in the light as the warm air wrapped itself around the two women like a blanket after the cold night air.

“You would make a great Wolf guard Lunesca… and in time… a great hunter.”

Tyrramir

It was cold….It was always cold here at night. From first site the mountainous ranges and valleys of Durotar looked and ideal protection from the bitter lash of the wind flowing in from the sea. But it only served to channel it, breezes splitting into airy rivulets like a wild stream.

Alone figure crouched in the mountainside. All attempts of making a fire long ago abandoned, the wind only laughed through it as it smothered the fragile embers. The shadowy figures skin was icy blue and any watchers would have thought the wind and cold had taken its toll and made it so.

They would be wrong, the small figure curled up tight against the elements was a troll. A troll born with skin the colour of a clear crisp lake and hair like lightning. Only the thin trail of tears running down her cheeks showed a crack in the still scene.

She was alone, she had been alone for so very long now…

But this is nearer the end of our story, to understand we should start at the beginning like all good tales do…

The sun was blazing low in the sky it was nearly dusk. The sky was a vibrant orange and pink shattered by the misty tendrils of the clouds. And Skarazzi was happy. Skarazzi was a giant of a troll with dark green skin and dark wise eyes. He was a master hunter of the Luna’skari, and was respected as such amongst the tribe.

And Skarazzi was truly happy…oh not the kind of contentment you gained from the hunt as the adrenaline pounded his is body urging every muscle to be still and patient but ready so that he may pounce…Nor the type of joyfulness he got from the deep satisfaction of skinning his kill and proudly bearing his trophy to the rest of the village. No, this was a true happiness that he had only felt once before. He and his wife Hulasan had been blessed with another child. There first was Lunesca a young hunter, like her parents. She too had the green skin of Skarazzi, and skarazzi knew that one day she would be great.

He had not seen the child yet. She was being prepared for the lunar ceremony where she would be named. It was true in some ways he had wanted a son, but he knew that his daughters would be blessed with hulazan’s beauty and his strength, so they would both be glorious hunters one day.

Dusk fell over the little village of enjoin that the luna’ skari called home, torches were being lit and the air filled with the buzz of perfumed smoke. Skarazzi made his way to his hut knowing that the ceremony was due to begin in any moment. He would hold his second born for the first time and he would name her under the light of the full moon. It was tradition, the Luna’skari harnessed their power from the full moon. All children were to be conceived at full moon and named at full moon. That was they way it always had been and that was the way it always would be, and Skarazzi was proud to bring his family up in that tradition.

The drums were beating, beating the dark jungle rhythm, pulsing through the orange dusty ground, pulsing through the aged timbers of the hut so old they were more like rock now than wood, and pulsing through the bodies of the trolls inside.

Hulasan wasn’t holding the infant despite its murmurs from the basket. She did not see fit to even look at it. It was just a thing, a useless ball of blood and skin, all this fuss for a mere child, after all the first one had been such a disappointment. “ oh well lets get this pointless rite over with then!” she grumbled She picked up the infant, barely touching it as if it might contaminate her flawless purple veneer, and then she walked out the door.

Skarazzi was waiting outside, with what Hulasan called, that big dopey grin spread across his face from ear to ear. Hulasan laughed to herself and the turned the child to face its father. The smile slowly disappeared. “She’s……….Blue!?!” exclaimed skarazzi. “Your point?” answered Hulasan with more dark glee than strictly necessary “What were you expecting another perfect little green copy of her father just like Lunesca!” “ It’s just a shock that’s all…..Besides she’s beautiful just like you my love!” Skarazzi replied “ come let us take her to the circle it is time to welcome her into our family.” “humph!” Hulasan murmured under her breath.

The whole tribe was there for everyone respected Skarazzi and most fantasized about Hulas an. The high priest stood forward, old as he was he was bent nearly double under the weight of his ceremonial mask and jewellery. “Ska…..S…Skarazzi…..Hold the child toward the moon! Good, good….N..Now what do you name this child of the Luna’skari?” “T….” Started Skarazzi “ TYRRAMIR!” Exclaimed Hulasan swiftly interrupting Skarazzi. “ Uh…uh…uh very well…now for the choosing….bring the child over here then.” The choosing ceremony was ancient like the power of the moon, under the full moon after being named by the father the child would be held by the mother and shown the symbols of the lives that were ahead of her. She would then follow this path and learn the skills attributed to it. “Well….” said the high priest “I…I….think we should start with the bow considering the child’s parentage.” He gingerly lifted the heavily engraved ceremonial hunters bow in front of the baby troll. They waited and they waited but the child showed no interest in it. Skarazzi frowned a little but asked for the next symbol to be shown. Item after item and Tyrramir showed no interest. She drooled at the intricate dagger of the rogue but this was decided not to be a suitable reaction. Finally the aged totem of the shaman was passed before the babe. Tyrramir instantly grabbed out for it, wrapping her tiny fingers around the grooves. And so it was decided tyrramir was to be a shaman. The majority of the tribe went away non plussed accepting this as a sign that the festivities could at last begin. Only Hulasan remained harbouring a secret smile.

Later on that night Skarazzi put the two little ones to bed, looking at each of them with so much fatherly pride it nearly burst from him and then he turned to deal with his wife. “ how could you Hulasan?” Skarazzi demanded but still whispering incase he woke the slumbering babes. “How could I WHAT? Oh dearest husband of mine.” She spat, venom seemingly dripping with every syllable. “You know what. It is the fathers right to name the child, my right! You didn’t even care she existed before the ceremony why would you take that from me?” Hulasan laughed aloud “you are so pathetic clinging to your silly superstitions, I was the one that suffered to bring that child into this world not you….I am the only one who has a right over these children…..” “oh….Hulasan when will you learn these “Superstitions” as you call them are important they define who we are, with them the luna’skari has become strong…do you really wish for our children to live in a world where they can not be guided and shown a virtuous path?” Skarazzi gave up he had long ago realised the futility of arguing with his wife, it only fuelled her spite more. Yes the naming ceremony had not gone to plan, but she was beautiful she was strong and she was a… shaman.

Skarazzi watched his children playing through the window in his hut, it was satisfying to watch there innocent games, all his cares seemed to drift away….and yet he knew he was running out of time….he could teach tyrramir, honesty and commitment and all the virtues he valued so much in his life…but he knew this wasn’t enough she was destined to be a shaman. And there was the problem, he didn’t know how to teach her that….he was a hunter, at times he’d admit a damned good hunter…but a hunter none the less. He would have to find someone to educate the little one, and this worried him…he did not like trusting his children’s fate to others but he didn’t have much choice this was what was best for Tyrramir.

And so he stepped outside the hut blinking a little in the bright morning sun and picked his youngest up, he gently held Lunesca’s hand and lead them to see Veri’ta the village shaman. Skarazzi was always in two minds about Veri’ta everyone in the tribe seemed to respect him, in the sort of leave him well enough alone type of respect. And yet when ever Skarazzi had seen the troll he seemed to be doing nothing…it was often explained that the reason he was staring at the fire or looking at the sea was that he was attuning him self to the elements. Skarazzi wondered how much attuning one shaman needed. They finally reached Veri’ta’s hut, but he wasn’t there. Confused Skarazzi looked around but couldn’t see the troll any where. Gently knocking Skarazzi made his way inside, the place was a mess, papers were strewn every where mixed with old plates of food. Hmmm….maybe the shaman really was losing his mind. Skarazzi looked up and noticed the hatch in the roof was open, thinking this odd, he climbed onto the table and stealthily poked his head through the gap. And there was Veri’ta sitting cross-legged on the roof. “ err…excuse me Veri’ta, I…..” began skarazzi “ahhhghhhhhh!!!” in one swift movement Veri’ta had gone from peaceful meditation, to falling off the roof. Skarazzi quickly leapt down after him landing neatly on his feet, it was clear Veri’ta had not been so lucky. The hunter quickly darted over to the shamans side and helped untangle him form his extensive robes. “ you idiot…you fool…do you know how long It took me to get to that point a whole days work wasted…well I hope your jolly well happy mister…mister….who the hell are you?” Screamed Ver’ta in a thin reedy voice. “I’m sorry, truly, I am Skarazzi Zan’Jari the hunter, what exactly did I disturb?” “My dear hunter there would be no point trying to explain the higher level of elemental attunement that I was undergoing, your brain would simply boil at all the long complicated words” Skarazzi looked sceptical…This lanky erratic looking troll didn’t look like a great master of the elements but what did he know. It was then he heard a giggling form behind him and realised he’d forgot about the children, they were peering round the side of the hut clearly amused at the performance being laid out before them. Skarazzi summoned Tyrramir over to him, and held her by the shoulders in front of him. “Veri’ta this is my daughter Tyrramir. She is destined to be a shaman….I am here to ask if you can instruct in the ways of your craft as I have not the skill to do so.” exclaimed Skarazzi clearly seeing the need to butter the fool up. “hmmm….why is she so short?” Veri’ta replied “ Veri’ta she’s a child of course she is small!” answered Skarazzi mystified at the supposedly enlightened troll’s stupidity. “hmmm…well no then I don’t have time for children, they get in the way….they…they unbalance the elements!” “ look here Shaman, you are the only shaman in this village and you will teach her even if I have to force you” growled Skarazzi” I may not be an intelligent educated troll such as your self, but let me let u in on a little secret, I’m pretty handy with a skinning knife, if you get my meaning!” The wiry shaman gulped, looked down at the smiling innocent face of Tyrramir and then back up into the grinning face of Skarrazi. “very well then I will teach her…but if she doesn’t pick it up it wont be my fault all right!” Skarazzi smiled to him self “that wont be a problem, I will bring her back tomorrow morning to begin the lessons, good afternoon Veri’ta.”

The next day came and went and so did the weeks and tyrramir attended all of Veri’ta’s lessons. Each day Skarazzi would drop her off at the shamans hut and leave with Lunesca for a day’s hunting. She longed to go with them but father said that the lessons were important so she sat and she listened, and they were boring! Today was no different, but at least today they were outside. Tyrramir hated the lessons inside the hut. It was stuffy and smelt of damp, Veri’ta said he didn’t have time to do house work there were higher levels of duty’s to attend to. But outside was nice, Veri’ta’s boring languid voice washed over her like the salty sea breeze, she sat absent mindedly, knotting peacebloom’s together. “………I said are you listening?” Veri’ta had clearly noticed the little shaman had been drifting off. “ yes sir…of course I was sir!” said Tyrramir emphatically. “ Very well then what was I just saying?” Veri’ta replied smugly. The little troll racked her brains what could it have been “ umm…..that to become attuned to the earth you must be patient and contemplative…oh and meditate …you gotta meditate.” “hmmph, lucky guess!” whispered Veri’ta not quite as smugly. “Well now that you clearly no what to do you can show me how to imbue this mace with the power of rock cant you!” Beamed the shaman clearly spotting a chance to gain the higher ground again. Tyrramir got to her feet, of course she hadn’t been listening, the lessons were always the same, and she had no idea how to do what he was asking but she had to try. She concentrated hard on the mace in front of her it was a rubbish old wooden thing that looked like it had been found at the bottom of the sea, and knowing Veri’ta it probably had. Well the important thing was to concentrate not on what it was but what it should be. A glorious weapon made for kings flowing with colour and strength…and power well it would have to powerful. She put her hands forward channelling the image down into her palms, and opened her eyes. She’d done it, she’d done it…hadn’t she? Well the mace was definitely imbued, but not with earth she’d channelled fire instead small flames flickered and played around the head of the mace. Veri’ta sat there open mouthed before finally realising what was going on. “ How did y……I mean I asked for earth not for you to show off with a flashy fire display. Now take it off!” he gasped angrily. “I…..I ….cant I don’t know how I did it…have I done something wrong?” whispered tyrramir in reply. “what do you mean you don’t know how you did it that’s impossible…..have you been taking lessons from someone else….hmmm…well…I bet it was that shaman, in the valley of trials what’s her name …Shikrik that the one…she’s always been jealous of the way I can communicate with the elements so easily! its just like her to try to steal my apprentice!” “But I thought you didn’t even want to teach me…” chanced tyrramir “Don’t backchat me young lady….I bet she taught you that as well didn’t she, hmmm?” “Veri’ta…I don’t know what your talking about…I..” replied tyrramir, Veri’ta gingerly reached for the mace, partly afraid of it. He lifted it high in the air towering above tyrramir poised to throw it away. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!” Bellowed a deep, seductively silky female troll’s voice. “How dare you raise a weapon at my child, simply because she has excelled your simple teachings!” shouted Hulasan has she stalked fuming with rage towards Veri’ta. “I…I …..madam….I was merely going to dispose of this crude implement, I would never…” “Who gave you permission to speak, you pathetic excuse for a troll… Tyrramir you will come with me, I will not have this short tusked buffon impart any more idiocy onto your impressionable little mind.” and with that Hulasan grabbed the little blue trolls arm and marched her away, leaving Veri’ta stood gaping in shock at the whole event, and wondering how he would be able to explain this to Skarrazzi.

Hulasan and tyrramir finally reached hulazan’s hut that she had been sharing with the amani troll kara’aa. Once in Hulasan firmly closed the door and made sure that they were alone… “alright my little darling you can tell your mother….how did you make the silly mace go on fire…have you been taking lessons from a nasty orc shamn like the silly man said?” Tyrramir cocking her head to one side replied “ Hulazan I am six I am not a baby you know!” “I know…” Hulazan said straightening up a little flustered by the childs directness “ and what have I told you about calling me mother not hulazan!” “You said I was to call you mother cos’ you were the only one I was ever gonna’ get so I should be grateful for you and show you a bit of respect….but I’m sorry Hulazan it’s very hard to respect my mother when she treats my father the way she does.” This obviously infuriated hulazan how dare this little ingrate speak to her like that, but she swallowed down the rage, there where more important things at hand at the moment.. “ very well as you wish, now will you tell me how you did it?” “like I said to Veri’ta, who by the way isn’t a short tusked buffoon he just gets a little confused sometimes, I don’t know how I did I just knew I could so I did….what do you want any way?” Hulazan cursed the childs apparent ability to remember the finer details, and sunk her self into a chair deep in thought. She is six….and she can already do what a fully grown shaman finds taxing….hmmmm… “come here girl let me look at you properly!” demanded Hulazan Tyrramir slowly shuffled infront of her mother not daring to meet her gaze in case she would be punished in some way. Hulazan grabed the young trolls face and viciously, tilted it up to hers. There she stared into her eyes, for what to tyrramir felt like an eternity, in fact it was merely seconds. Hulazan stared so deeply as if she was trying to borrow herself deeper into tyrramir’s mind, searching out every little secret with dagger sharp stare. Finally she let go, almost chucking tyrramir to one side… “ you may go!” Tyrramir ran for the door and just as she reached it and was about to escape into the bright afternoon sun hulazan called out “ oh…tyrramir my little darling you are to practise you fir spells every day for 4 hours at least….I will be watching and if I find that you do not practise or that you disappoint me your punishment will be swift, you and your sister may not respect me, but I am your mother and you will fear my scorn! well…what are you waiting for ….GO!” and with that tyrramir ran home never looking back.

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Tyrramir grew, getting bigger and stronger each day but still remaining small for a troll of her age. She idolized her older sister Lunesca, lunesca was strong and smart and not long away from doing her first trial to be fully accepted into the tribe. Tyrramir wished she could go with her she didn’t like the idea of being apart from her older sister. She stayed awake most nights practising the fire spells, trying to become stronger so she could be of more use to her sister. But her spells were weak, she was weak.

Hulazan encouraged and chastised her always saying “ The greatest thing in this life is power without it you are nothing! You don’t want to be nothing do you my child? You don’t want to disappoint your family, your tribe?” With tears streaming from the little trolls face she answered “No….Mother. I’ll get better, please ill be stronger for you. Forgive my weakness it will pass.” Tyrramir still felt the sting of the last time she had been a disappoint, and her back still showed the scars from hulazans cat like nails.

Skarazzi however was completely different, he tried to encourage patience in the little one, instilling the virtues of patience, wisdom and mercy. Tyrramir would sit and listen to these lectures from both parents for the most part quiet and nodding every now and again to show she understood. But when she went away she was confused and muddled.

“How do I please both my parents? What’s the right thing to do, father says that there is a path beneath each of us and that I will find it in time, but I want to know what to do now! Lunesca would know what to do but shes already left for her trial already, I am lost and I am alone.”

Weeks past and eventually Lunesca returned, they held a great celebration to honour the newly initiated member of the tribe where she was branded for her achievements. Tyrramir sat inside the family hut watching the festivities, she was too little to go said father. So tyrramir sat and watched unaware that her mother had snuck into the hut, softly Hulazan sat down beside her “You know little one that now she is part of the tribe, she doesn’t need you any more…she’s an adult now!” whispered the dark seductive tones of Hulazan “don’t be silly Luney loves me, she’s my big sister she will always be there for me.” answered Tyrramir “is that what you think? Is that what she told you? She will leave you, you are too weak to be useful to her. She may have loved you once but now your nothing but a hindrance to her….you’re holding her back…weighing her down…..think about it….your not there and yet she’s so happy…think about it….” her voice slowly trailed off. Tyrramir looked around to the door her mother had swiftly exited through and shrugged, besides Hulazan was talking nonsense wasn’t she. Tyrramir looked at her sister laughing with the rest of the tribe, she should be happy for her sister, so why did she suddenly feel so angry? “humph….I’ll show her in a few moons ill be old enough for my first trial. Ill show that I’m just as good as luney, no that I’m better than her!” A wave of guilt swept over her then. She loved her sister it wasn’t lunesca’s fault. Tyrramir then slowly slipped her light little frame back into bed feeling very sorry for herself.

Many moons past and tyrramir grew bigger and stronger each day, still remaining small by troll standards thou and that always bothered her. True her fire spells were incredibly advanced for her age but, what was the point tyrramir had the feeling that she would never truly be good enough.

That night tyrramir sat in front of the main fire in the village, staring at the shapes of the flames skipping and dancing. they were free and happy, and played in front of her eyes drawing into an almost trance like state, the soft hiss and crackle of the embers singing to her in there mocking song, they held the power of true fire, she merely created an illusion, easily swept away, there might was total and terrible. At last she broke her stare from the heart of the blaze, a small smouldering tear drying on her cheek, and became aware of two large, stocky trolls standing over her. “Tyrramir Zan’jari you are to come with us, the council has summoned you!” Tyrramir obediently got up and slowly walked between the two warriors feeling like a prisoner of a crime she had not known she had committed. They reached the elders hut , where the taller of the two guards pointed at the door, it was clear they weren’t allowed in and were to remain outside on guard. So she pushed through the beaded curtain into the smoke and sweat filled room. There the council sat watching her like she was some sort of insect, the smell of jungle weed permeated everything and was making her feel nauseous, but she had to remain still and strong, to show weakness in front of these trolls was a an embarrassment she was determined not to suffer. From the shadowy corner of the room a voice sounded out and, tyrramir recognised only to well it was hulazan in full council robes “ Well my little one” she said towering above her daughter “ do you know why you are here?” “….yes…I think….I think that you want to send me on a trial like luney…but I …” “no buts my little one, I have been watching you, remember!” a dark smile flashed across hulazan’s elegant features “the council wish for you to attend you first trial and I agree you are ready…and you will not fail, because you know only to well what happens when you fail me!” “yes..Hula…mother.” “good….gentlemen I give you my daughter get the guard to fetch her armour and she can depart right away, the moon is bright and the time has never been better.” with that hulazan turned smiling towards the council, and left through a door into a antechamber.

Tyrramir was suited and armed and was pushed into the nights air, tears streaming at the thought of her sister and her father, wondering if she would ever be able to see them again. she would have no idea of the plots and schemes being constructed back in the heart of the village she had loved so dearly.

The council had not adjourned. they’re business was not yet finished, there was the contingency plan to deal with. Before them stood a large Impressive looking troll with long deeply curved tusks, or he would have been impressive if it wasn’t for the medley of scars that covered his body. He looked like a troll that was still trying to be handsome, had a bad card dealt to him and was determined to be called rugged instead. The council was uncomfortably they all knew that the rogue in front of them was a necessity but sometimes they doubted the wisdom of the original council that first employed him. The troll was Ruz’uneh, a luna’skari by blood but not in the eyes of most by conception. He was one of the few but irritating mistakes of the more “amorous” tribe members, his parents conceived him when the moon was not at its fullest and in doing so, to the opinion of most, polluted the luna’skari’s strength. Trolls like Ruz’uneh were sent on there trials early, the younger they were the more impossible it would be for them to survive and then their filth would no longer infect the rest of the tribe. However Ruz’uneh had been a problem, he had survived, and he had returned in the village, something had to be done about a troll like that. And so the council found a use for him, he was to remain a secret for all his life, the tribe would think that he had died, and he would do his work for the good of the luna’skari. Oh and how he enjoyed his work, he would track down the half blood luna’skari on the trials and kill them. ensuring that there would be no more chances of a return. Ruz’uneh had spent years doing this job and he loved nothing better than to squeeze the life from the small little bodies, or toy with them like a cat does with a mouse.

And that made the council uncomfortable. they could see it in his eyes this troll murdered for a living and he revelled in it, but, the job must be done and he was a necessary if not ghastly tool. Tyrramir had been sent out, it was necessary it was evident to the few in the hut that she was tainted, and after all her own mother had given permission for this to be done. So Ruz’uneh was charged with his task he would hunt her down and stop her at any means necessary, it was not necessary to discuss those means…they all knew what his grizzly mind was. Ruz’uneh was dismissed by the council, he didn’t really need to be, he thought top himself, after all they liked to claim he didn’t exist. It was raining too, “ great… now it will be even harda ta pick up ta lil’ brats tracks” “oh brother have faith…” whispered hulazan, emerging from behind the elders hut “after all you are so very good at what you do!” she cackled “oh…tis ya” he grunted “shudn’t ya be somwhere wit ya legs up in ta air by now sister?” Hulazan glared at her brother with enough menace to kill, but swiftly composed herself to sweeter expression, it was no use arguing wit ruz’uneh he was to dim witted to understand most of it and to insane to stand for it if he did understand. “come now brother , don’t tell me you haven’t missed me, besides I have a little job for you!”

Ruz’uneh eyed hulazan suspiciously, she had always been tricksy even as a child “what ya be wanting hulee? I got da business of da elders ta be seein’ ta” “I know… and that is what I want as you can see I am a elder now too, and there has been a change of plan. you are not to kill tyrramir you are to watch her and keep her safe for me!” “now why wud I be doin’ that for ya….me job is ta kill the lil’ brats not babysit dem?” “I need her, she is important to the future of my tribe, sorry, our tribe.” “well den, that be alright den,” Ruz’uneh burst out laughing “ya tink im stupid sister, or more still ya think I would give up a kill, I tink ya be goin’ a bit mad in ya old age” Hulazan scowled. “ I am not old you bastard… and who said I was denying you your precious kill, I need tyrramir true but maybe you are willing to trade a life for a life?” “what did ya have in mind, some bastard lova of yours, I be tinkin’ no…da kill aint no fun unless da prey be still young, still sweet.” “brother, do you think I don’t know this, that I don’t know how your little mind works…no, you can have your prey and she will be sweet you can have Lunesca” “Lunesca…..She be of no use ta ya den?….hmmm…she be already havin her trials, she be tougher dan da lil’ one….hmmm….me be tinkin’ she would be a nice lil’ challenge….I accept I’ll be keepin’ tyrramir safe for ya..an’ once she be back I be collectin’ on are bargain…oh yes…ill be collectin’. I bet she be tasting nice a sweet.” and with that Ruz’uneh stalked off into the jungle, leaving hulazan smiling to her self in the thunderous rain.

A moon passed and finally tyrramir had completed her trial, it had been hard. Her powers seemed to wax and wane and be completely unreliable in a fight, meaning whenever she drew close to her target she was forced to run or die. On the long cold nights, she barely slept. she had the constant feeling that someone was watching her, a icy feeling crawling down the back of her spine. She knew she was imagining it, for there was noone around apart from the dangerous beast the prowled trough the jungles, and yet. Tyrramir slowly made her way back to sen’jin, she was tired and worn from her ordeals and could think of nothing but putting one foot in front of the other, step by step drawing herself closer to her family and her home. She knew she was getting closer, she guessed she was about a mile form the village from the look of her surroundings, all she had to do was climb this large steep hill in front of her and she’d be able to see it she was sure. She was nearly to the top, when she fell. She’d been too tired, too tired for the climb, too tired to see the trip wire laid invisibly on the slope. And she fell, feel into the deep dark welcoming arms of unconsciousness. And under the shadow of the trees, she was picked up and carried away.

He’d gone out hunting, and she was alone. She’d tried to use the time tending to her wounds, but he had tied her hands and feet again before he left and she could only do so much. The cabin was dark and reeked of what tyrramir had realised was stale blood. She was scared, sh had tried not to be afraid, it only seemed to excite him. but day by day the fear was creeping in. It had been days since the climb to the hilltop, from what she could tell through the heavily barred windows, she was deep in the jungle. He had told her he was saving her, that she needed him, even that he loved her. It all felt wrong. Yes she had been struggling, but his eyes the way he looked at her. They were hungry, and the hunger looked insatiable. He would be back soon, the light was draining from the sky. she knew he was losing patience and didn’t know why or how long she could delay those ravenous eyes or those forceful hands. Some one would come. They had to come! Didn’t they?

(Three days later) Ruz’uneh sat watching her, she was asleep. He followed the shallow rise and fall of her chest, she was so small so perfect. But he wouldn’t touch her, not yet. He wanted her awake for that, he wanted to see the fear in her eyes. He wanted her to know he was in control, he controlled when she ate, when she slept and when she cried, and he wanted her to be grateful for it. He remembered the last time he had touched her, he had to tie her hands, she lashed out and scratched. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. He loved the smell of her tears. She was so small and so warm. He would wake her soon.

(Two days later) Tyrramir was in the corner, it was not possible to get any further into the corner if she had tried, the wood was grating up against her shoulder blades. Ruz’uneh was angry, she didn’t know why. Earlier he had left saying that he had been summoned. When he came back he was in a near berzerking rage, rambling and shouting to the air. “she has no right!…da girl be mine, dat was da deal, she offered me da otha’ one, she not be telling me dat da otha‘ one wud be of age soon, she be trying da trick me. so I be keepin‘ dis one, dat be what I said. she is me toy, an’ if I be wantin’ ta break her ill break ‘er!” his dark eyes focused on tyrramir. In an instant he was nose to nose to her, his rotten breathe letching all over her, “Ya planned dis didn’t ya…..ya and dat bitch planned dis. YA made me fall in love wit ya! do ya know how much time I be wastin’ on ya!” He whirled away smashing the furniture as he went. And then he stopped. He was so still and silent after the feroccity of his anger that it made tyrramir even more afraid. When he finally turned around his eyes seemed hollow a vacant smile was on his face and he was holding his long blood stained knife. “ well…now…”he said, whispering it slowly as if each word was a struggle to pronounce and had to physically escape to be heard. “ she be sayin’….I gone too far….that…that, I have ta let ya go….well we must be doin’ as da mighty bitch commands, gotta follow orders don’t we?!” “DON’T WE?!!” he yelled. “yes….” whispered tyrramir more scared now than she had ever been in her life. The hunger in his eyes was gone. Now there was nothing. No emotion, no love, no hate…nothing. “Yes….YES…we do. So ill be releasin’ ya, da way I released all of dose otha’ bastard children!” He was drooling at this point, frothed salivia dripping down his chin. He advanced on tyrramir, slowly step by step, he raised the knife. It shimmered in the air the dark blade hovering.

*BANG*

Ruz’uneh crippled with pain fell to the floor, the knife dropped and dark, sticky blood rushed from a gabing vicious wound in his hand. At the same moment the door burst open, wood splintering from the frame as a large blue troll with vibrant red hair charged through kicking Ruz’uneh off his knees and placing a large heavy foot on his throat. Val’jarn’s gun was pressed firmly into Ruz’uneh’s eye socket, finger poised on the trigger. Tyrramir whimpered in th ecorner and with a last weak breathe whispered one word before fainting. The word was Val’jarn. Val’jarn looked from the delicate fallen form of tyrramir to the pathetic retches troll beneath him, he knelt keeping the pressure on Ruz’uneh’s throat. he whispered so softly, that a spring breeze would have sounded like a hurricane compared to his softness. “I won’t be killin’ ya now! I won’t have da child wake ta see dat!” And in one movement he went from kneeling to lifting Ruz’uneh’s body up as if it was a rag doll. He marched him outside to where the rogue hung his butchered prey. “I’ll be seein’ ya soon mon!” with that Val’jarn heaved Ruz’uneh onto the crude metal meat hooks. the points piercing the wounded trolls shoulders inches from the bone. Val’jarn walked away, not looking back, he didn’t need to, that job was for later. He walked back into the cabin and gently lifted tyrramir, he placed her safely in front of him on his large battle raptor, and rode away out of the jungle.

And that brings us roughly up to where you first found the troll shivering in the night wind…..well not quite but some stories are best saved for another time

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Please take the time to tell us how YOU got to be a part of the Ari Scara and the events that led to it. Send your story to Silvermane , subject ARI SCARA.