Raincaller: The Alliance and Horde have lived with a shaky peace that rules the land. But towns are burning on both sides now and each blames the other. Only Yawna, a young tauren with a prophecy over her head and her friends may be able to re-piece the alliance and quell the fires that burn on both sides.
((A/N)): Okay, so this is my very first fan fiction of Warcraft. I stumbled upon this riveting game just after Christmas, so I'm not that far into it. A level nine tauren huntress can only really go so far. Amazingly, I have read the book, The Day of The Dragon, and was captivated by it. This brings me no closer to owning the entire game. None the less, this is not my first fan fiction and I promise to try and keep it as pure as possible. Then again, the Warcraft Purists should keep away like it was a burning hell. NOT HISTORICALLY WARCRAFT CORRECT! Forgive me for mistakes and feel free to flame, critiquing my work only makes it stronger.
Disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft. I don't even pretend to. Blizzard does (I pledge my allegiance, to the Blizz…) No matter how hard I threaten, Blizzard will not give me the rights to own Warcraft. Damn them.
Chapter One: A Child of Legends
The fire was warm. It smelt like ambercorn, like her mother, like the trees. It smelt like the land and the rivers and the lakes and the paths. It smelt of the measures of man and all the lengths that they would take. It smelt like the taurens' problems, predicaments, and triumphs. But most of all, it smelt like a new beginning and a very bad end.
Those were some of the first conscious thoughts of Yawna. Even though the tauren was but a new-born calf she could feel the tension in the air, taste the dire words of the elders on her lips. Her soft nose twitched and caught the smell of the fire and all the scents that it's smoke cloaked within. Then Yawna laughed.
It was nothing but a baby's giggle, soft and light. But in the room that was hung heavy with the grim thoughts of battle scarred tauren elders, warriors, and seers the laugh was a sign. It told them that The Earthmother was still watching and protecting them. A few inhabitants of the large hut only found puzzlement from their confidence though.
The first were a large pair of orcs. They were hulking down next to a few tauren and dwarfing the bovine warriors. Bulging cords of muscles rippled along their heavy forearms and legs. There were two, a male and a female, dressed in heavy mail and carrying two handed axes that could have cleaved straight through a heavy oak and then halfway into the steel armor of an Alliance dwarf.
The two did not seem bothered by the calf's laugh, but the stopped in mid sentence, glancing in the direction of the baby as if they hadn't seen it before then. Beside them the second pair of inhabitants followed their gaze.
The two new inhabitants were trolls. Their long ears tickled the back of the hut's leathery walls. They had wild, shaggy mane's of hair, one a deep red and the other a midnight purple. A male and female again, the two trolls nodded patiently, tusks bobbing up and down from green-tinted lips. But a few tauren down the circle another strange face sneered with open contempt.
The undead scoffed, what was left of his rotting mouth twisting into a lopsided frown. Garbed in armor made from the gravestone's of men the undead appeared as some ghostly reincarnation of all men's fears. His sunken eyes crossed through the crowd and pinned the baby and her mother to the wall. To the tauren he reeked of the smell of death and Yawna whimpered softly. He was Thralk, a name easy for a decaying mouth to spit out with little trouble.
"Why do we have to bring a child into a war circle?" demanded the undead, his eyes narrowing, "I think it best that the enemy have no available leaks."
"Peace, brother." the female troll interrupted smoothly, her voice hinted with the exotic accent of the jungle. She put a hand up and continued, "The child will bring no harm. We are in the Tauren's land and if they wish it so then we must agree. You must try and be a good guest Thralk."
"If you say so Meh'rah." The undead summoner settled to himself, his thoughts placed elsewhere. He was only marginally concerned with the toils of this meeting. Thralk had more important things to do… far more important.
"Continue with what you were saying, Baine." Me'rah offered, her voice smooth and silky still. It was easy to see that she was the peacekeeper of the meeting. Beside her the male troll smiled to himself, for Meh'rah was his wife.
From the very head of the council stood an impressive tauren. His long horns tickled the top of the hut and the fire seemed to inhale itself and step away from him. Baine Hardhoof was an notable figure. His lineage spread back over generations as ages and ages of Baine Hardhoofs ruled over Hardhoof Village. They were prosperous and this was no exception to his long-revered family. He was dressed in only the finest cured leather and startling brilliant feathers. Steel and other glinting metals that danced along with a huge gun slung across his shoulder made him look dangerous.
"As I had begun to tell you, the dwarfs are moving in. Just the other day a scout reported that they were digging a tunnel through the mountains to our east. They are moving swifter than we supposed at first." Baine looked down at Yawna and her mother, his steely eyes softening. " It is terribly obvious that we can not allow this. The daughter of Kiel proves this. Kiel is but one of the many mothers who is with a child now. Kiel and whom ever she has chosen as a mate are now pressed for more food and supplies."
Her Baine paused and during that time the mother of Yawna, Kiel, glanced across the fire. Her eyes met the eyes of another tauren, a large spotted male sitting away from her. Makar nodded, a rare smile touching his lips. Yes, he and his soon-to-be-wife and their daughter would need much more. The dwarves could not move in on their land now.
"So it is my wish to insist that you help us. We hope to lead a group of our warriors to the mountains and fend back to dwarves. Of course, this will only temporarily solve the problem that is at hand. I have thought ahead though." From a sac that hung from the tauren leader's waist the grave commander produced a bar of something rectangular and black. It had a small string poking from the top, dangerous and daring in the hands of Baine.
Yawna opened her mouth and her tongue tasted the gunpowder on the air. The calf rolled the taste around in her mouth for a moment and savored it's coppery taste. It was menace and savior all at once.
"Dynamite." the male orc offered, his nose curling almost disdainfully. "That hasn't been used in years. The destructive power of that stuff is amazing and you, Baine Hardhoof of all people, are now proposing to use it?"
Baine nodded, his horns bobbing up and down. He held up the small stick of dynamite and looked around the room, lingering his steely gaze upon the taurens. When he began to speak the faces around the fire seemed to freeze. All but Thralk that was, for he suddenly became eager.
"I am not asking the other races, for solely this is the problem of the tauren. But the dynamite can only be lit from up close and the fuse is short. I propose to distract the dwarf, light the fuse, and send their tunnel crashing down under the weight of the mountain that they now defile. If any tauren among you choose to lead the attack and light the fuse than I am only asking of you a suicidal mission. But I do ask it of you, my tauren. Who among you will be brave enough to try this daring feat?"
The fire was silent. Even it seemed to hold it's breath, waiting for the answer to the question. Everyone looked down, looked away, looked anywhere but where Baine now stood and pleaded them to give his or her life for their city. All the tauren had children to think of, all had wives or families that depended on them.
"I will." The voice was strong and determined as the speaker stood. Even Baine seemed shadowed by the massive tauren that stood before him, for the strength of that statement gave the speaker power and mind. Indeed, Makar was an impressive sight.
"No." Kiel let the word slip from her lips and she hugged tight the calf in the sling around her neck. "You mustn't." She could not help herself. The words tore from her as if propelled from someone else. Makar and her had a future, a child, responsibility that she knew did not come before their village but still felt it should.
"Yes," Makar replied smoothly but firmly. He forced himself to look at Baine instead, ignoring his love kneeling on the floor. "I will lead the attack and light the fuse. And, if needed, I will join the Earthmother and look down onto you all."
Baine bowed to the bull, his eyes full of gratitude. The rest of the room was silent, how ever. The tauren bull would have little or no chance to return, and almost all eyes scanned to Kiel. It was painfully obvious to most why she didn't wish Makar to lead the attack, and the way she clutched the calf in her arms now told them that she too understood the consequences of Makar's choice.
The meeting concluded and the members of the war circle filed out of the warm hut. The cool air met them, winds blowing across prairie grasses. The melodious notes of a wolf's howl echoed across a full-moon night and the very sound of living creatures sent shivers up Kiel's spine. She turned, watching Makar hunker across the village and towards his home.
"Wait," she called, her voice catching in her throat. Kiel's hooves battered across the path, her mane flinging out behind her as she pulled herself towards the bull. He stopped, not turning but instead waiting for her to reach him. Makar had promised to serve his town, and he would, but he tore himself in half doing so.
"I do what I must for my people," Makar said now, though he still didn't turn. He was running his finger up and down the hilt of his mighty axe, something he did often when nervous. The blade sat atop carved oak stronger then the tauren's own arm.
"But know, that you will always come first in my eyes and heart." Makar sighed as he looked down at Yawna, his calf, their calf. The baby resembled him strongly with her black and white spotted fur and a thin mane of deep black hair. Stubs of horns that poked from Yawna's forehead were glossy black with a blue sheen that spoke of her health.
"I know," Kiel replied softly, "I just wish that you spoke with your heart instead of you mind."
It was just five days after the soldiers left. Just four days after they had reached their destination. Just three days after the fighting had began and smoke rose over the edge of the world. Just two days after the mountain came crashing down on hundreds of dwarves, taurens, orcs, trolls, and undead alike. Just one after Makar had died.
The news had come swiftly in the hands of five scouts who had survived the battle. Wounded and exhausted they told the tale to the entire town from it's square. Those who did not listen there still learned fast. News traveled like brushfire and in under half of an hour from the arrival of the scouts everyone knew what had happened at the Battle of the Falling Mountain.
Kiel had found out in under five minutes.
Holt was a good friend of Makar. He sought out the mother of his calf as soon as he returned to Hardhoof Village. With him he carried grave news and sorrow that would never really heal with Kiel.
Yawna did not recognize the cause of her mother's immediate tears, but she did recognize what the tauren talking to her carried. With him Holt had brought two of Makar's possessions.
The first was a small horn band. It was wide, leather with steel cuffs on either side. From it hung two glossy feathers the shades of a dying sun and a string that sparkled with beads that quite resembled the shades of plain sand in the full sun. They shined and winked, beckoning the young calf to reach towards the band.
The second was her father's axe. The handle had fared perfectly, years of perfecting the heavy handle had proven worth it when it escaped with barely a scratch. The axe head had not done quite so well though. It was dented and chipped, mottled down now and would hardly be worth much in the years to come.
"Makar gave me a message to give to you, Kiel, before he ran in to light the fuse. He said that you should seek the seer Two-Moons and bring the child to her. Also, that in the eyes and hearts of everyone that you associate with Makar and you were joined in holy matrimony the moment you first laid eyes on each other.
"The seer Two-Moons?" the guard repeated thoughtfully. He scratched his chin and then his eyes lit up as he remembered. "Oh yes, Madame, far to the west, but not that far. He lives in a hut atop a large knoll straying a bit of this path. Between here is only a few plain striders and maybe a wolf or o cougar or two. Will you be alright?"
"I can handle myself." Kiel replied steadily as her fingers tightened on her late husband's axe. Her voice had grown harder, her eyes icy and her mind rather manipulated. Since the death of Makar a year ago Kiel and her young child had suffered the loss of another parent. Money was always short, for money always had to be spent. On leather and sewing string, on ammo for Kiel's blunderbuss, on lessons in leatherworking and skinning for young Yawna, for food that could not be made hunting, and everything else that they could possibly need. It had taken a year for Kiel to work up enough money to be able to pay any seer, and now she was ready to see what had so spurred Makar to command her to visit Two-Moons.
Yawna skipped alongside her mother. Even though the calf was young she was swift and balanced on her heels. Her leather skirt swished around her heels and the calf's inquisitive eyes drank in everything. Never before had she been outside of Hardhoof Village, and the mere sight of a prairie wolf in the distance sent wonder to her young mind.
"Stay by me," Kiel warned her, already cocking her blunderbuss. The ornate carvings caught Yawna's eyes and once again she was distracted, her hands reaching up to touch the gold that encircled the bright red gun.
"Step back," her mother commanded. With a resounding crack the gun vibrated in Kiel's fingers. Yawna felt the air part, smelled the gunpowder on the air and tasted the power that seemed to emit from the gun in gushing amounts. But most of all, with Yawna's above-average acuteness the young tauren felt the pain that sliced through her shoulder. Like a bullet wound it was, splitting up her spine and shattering out. With tentative fingers Yawna reached to her shoulder. Had her own mother shot her? No, there was no blood, no dripping wound that would have marked an imbedded bullet.
She heard the yelp of a wolf. The creature was crossing the grass at top speed, blood running from its shoulder in large rivulets. Teeth pulled back into a snarl the wolf prepared itself for battle. It was a noble creature, but half starved, a creature of the prairie. It would not lose, it could not.
Three more bullets took it down. As the wolf fell Yawna felt a piece of her tear away. Yawna looked to her mother, her eyes watering over from the equal pain she had felt from four bullets that hadn't even hit her. Had her mother been affected the same way?
Kiel had felt nothing. She let the gun drop back into the holster at her side after blowing off the wide nose of the destructive weapon. Yawna could not understand why she had not felt it, but the calf had indeed felt the wolves pain.
"Should we skin it mother?" Yawna managed to croak out as they stepped past the body. The wolves eyes were still open and Yawna could swear she could see it accusing Kiel. From then on Yawna pledged she would never use a gun. It was not a fair fight.
"Leave it," Kiel commanded as she quickly hacked a chunk of meat from its flank and dropped it into their pack. "We haven't the time."
The seer's house rose on the horizon. It was a small hut of leather with a thatched roof that allowed smoke to pass through the top. Simple as it was Yawna felt power there too and the calf looked up again too check her mother's face for signs o this awareness. Nothing was there though, and for the first time in her life Yawna wondered whether it was only her who sensed it.
Yawna felt power in all things. She sensed it in the words that Baine spoke to his tribe as he prepped them for long, harsh seasons. She felt power in the herbs that the herbalists used to heal wounds. She felt it in the beast trainer of her town and in the beasts themselves that would sometimes stray close to Hardhoof Village. Once she had asked Kiel if she had felt something in the riding kodos in camp, but her mother had only looked at her child with puzzlement.
"Seer Two-Moons," Kiel announced her presence, holding forth a bag of one-hundred copper that would have equaled one silver. She bowed low though she saw no one and Yawna followed suite.
"I'm here, I'm here," A bull stepped from the hut. He was immense, though not as big as Makar had been. Dressed in long, decorated robes made of thin kodo leather and painted with berry juices and wines he made a magnificent sight. His face fur was dyed with two red streaks that ran from one ear to the other and over the bridge of his nose. "What is it you require?"
"I need you to read my child." Kiel pleaded, "I have to equivalent one silver with me, over a year's savings. Maybe it is enough?" Kiel already saw the dismissal on the old seer's face. He was known to ask for two, or even three silver for his services. But Kiel had to try, for soon her child may lose all chance to what Makar might have been trying to give her.
"That is not enough." Two-Moons replied as he made his way towards them. Yawna took a step backwards as she felt the strength in the old bull. He glanced at her not once, instead looking straight at Kiel. "What more would you have to offer?"
Kiel thought hard. She could spare nothing in order to live, except for….
"This," with a heavy sigh Kiel pulled forth the sunset-hued horn band, "It was my late husband's and all I have to offer that I can spare myself." She saw the seer studying it closely, his eyes squinting with thought. Finally he reached out and let the band and money drop into his hands.
Two-Moons opened his mouth to speak, but a strange look came over his face. He glanced at Yawna for the first time and then raised the band to his eyes again. He suddenly smiled to himself and pushed the horn band back to Kiel.
"For this reading only one silver will be enough. Come, sit by the fire and talk with me. Tell me everything in significance that has happened five days before the birth of the child and everything after."
Kiel followed the bovine oracle back to his fire, striding slightly ahead of her daughter and Two-Moons. When Yawna looked up at the psychic she couldn't help herself and she whispered softly to him, "You have great power."
The sage nodded almost expectantly. As he sat by the fire and listened to Kiel relay her tale his mind began to click. Even though his face did not show it the prophet was amazed. Even though her mother did not seem to realize Yawna had immense power. But according to the laws of a seer Two-Moons could only tell the two so much. The rest, Yawna must have to find on her own.
"This is what I have to say," the sibyl began, "From this day, Yawna is no longer just Yawna. She is Yawna Raincaller, and will learn in time that this is her rite. Also, that she will take the Rite of the Earthmother in five more years to this day and no more. She must also befriend those who feel her pain and who she feels as well. This is what the spirits have to say." Suddenly Two-Moons's head slumped on to his chest. Yawna froze, but she still felt his capacity and knew he had not died.
When Two-Moons spoke gain his voice was not his own. It was deeper than it had been before and much, much slower as if every syllable took humongous effort. Yawna felt herself almost loose interest as her mind began to wander, but then she snapped back in realization that what Two-Moons said would affect her life.
'Bonds of friendship must be made
In order to disprove what lies have been laid.
Where forces of hatred do conspire,
Only rain can quench the fire.'
((A/N)): So, that's it so far. Not much, but pretty long. Leave a review, tell me what you think. The next chapter will be 'An Unfavorable Price' that will take place five years from this chapter. A real twister. Hmm… Well I have no one to thank except for maybe my cat or my rat who both sat on my lap during the making of this chapter (thought not at the same time.) Leave a review! 0o))