Reckless is a dangerous thing for any Tauren to be, even more so when so far from home and allies. The snow capped mountains and frozen woods that separated the fjord and the grizzly hills were treacherous lands for all who did not know how to navigate during the changing seasons. Tolarn Ragetotem had chosen traversing these savage lands in the depth of winter alone, a fool's errand to be sure. Paying no head to the wisdom of his kinsmen in the fjord, Tolarn sought to prove his might was on par with that of the Taunka, northern cousins to the Tauren and masters of their element. But Tolarn was young, inexperienced and arrogant.
In the piercing winds of an ice storm he came across a small encampment of three tents. Apparently humans of the Alliance believed they too could conquer the mountain colds. Once Tolarn approached the sight and drew his weapon.
"We're under attack!" A man wrapped in leathers called. His pet wolf lunged in attack but was knocked aside with a powerful charge from Tolarn. He ransacked the camp, destroying tents and trampling weapons. The wind and snow proved to be beneficial to him as his movements were hard track and their arrows never met their mark. What he did not smash he would take for himself to aid him in his journey.
Tolarn looked back to see the glares from the men confident they would not survive long in the bitter cold. He could not have known what he had done or what was to follow.
He marched on proud of his actions but vexed that he seemed to have been followed. A trio of large ravens stayed close behind, cursing his bovine ears with their calls. The sun had set, the wind had calmed and the light of the crescent moon was his guiding light. He sat amongst some stones to enjoy his spoils. Lighting a small fire for warmth he used anything too small for him as fodder for the fire. Reviewing his map, the ravens continued to call out and distract him. Annoyed he threw ice and snow at them to force them to leave but they continued to taunt him. Tolarn was so distracted he did not notice the rise of winter fog around him. He was only satisfied when the troublesome birds took flight finally granting him peace.
Something was wrong… he was no longer alone. He instinctively drew his weapon and readied himself for battle when threw the mist came a growl. A single wolf stalked toward him with his fangs at full bear. Tolarn scoffed and prepared to strike when a chorus of other growls came from all directions.
"You have made a grave error this day Tauren." The voice was calm but gruff with age. "You see game is hard to come by in these parts. Fang there hasn't had a decent meal in days. As a member of the horde you know all to well that wolves must have their meat." Fang accompanied the comment with a snarl.
"Do not think to lecture me foolish human. Your puny hound would be wise to eat you himself!" He struck the ground sending a shock toward the sound of the man's voice but only succeeded and smashing a few rocks and unsettling another rave. The fog was starting to thin and Tolarn now saw that the one called Fang was being dwarfed by two large dire wolves behind him equally hostile toward the warrior. The ravens circled over-head and one of the men stepped in with a look in his eyes Tolarn was not familiar with. With the air calm again he noted something that made him uneasy.
"What are you people?" You smell like humans, but theirs more. I smell blood on you!" He shouted, raising his weapon again. This time however he was stopped by two arrows piercing his shoulder. He looked to see a hunter amongst the stones knock another arrow.
"Just a calf, aren't you boy? Tender…" he sneered. Tolarn looked in shock as the silent man with the wolves drew a skinning knife before transforming revealing himself to be a Worgen. Fang licked his chops and stalked even closer to him. Tolarn shuttered smashed the ground as hard as he could with his good arm, raising a cloud of snow and rubble around him. In the cover he took off away from toward the forest.
"Sir?" The hunter asked. A strong middle-aged man clad light warriors armor stepped up. "The hunt is on!" He aimed his sword in the direction the Tauren had run. They both transformed as well and took chase after they quarry.
Tolarn hadn't gotten far and was dripping blood onto the white snow. He looked up to see the ravens had returned. They were pecking at his head and clawing at his wound in an effort to slow him down but had to disperse as he entered the thicket of the trees. He now understood what that look was. It was anticipation. Some of the best hunters in his home had that look whenever kodo hunt began. Tolarn never expected to have such a gaze directed toward himself.
A raven called and he shuttered, missing a step, he tripped over a snow-covered log and slid into a large tree. Dazes and panicked he tried to find his footing but when he heard a menacing howl scrambled in the snow just trying to keep moving forward. Two of the ravens took perch on barren branches on either side of him, staring. The last glided overhead and swooped to land in front of him. To his horror it turned out the bird was a Worgen druid she lashed at him with her lupine claws and clanked against his armor with a staff before letting out a howl of her own. Tolarn stared at her, silently pleading but it was too late. The dire wolves now flanked him and Fang came to stand beside her.
"Why are you doing this?! Members of the Alliance don't hunt sentient beings. Only the cruelest members of the Horde would devour their foes." He thought to call their bluff, but an arrow to the thigh whipped that thought from his mind. Too wounded to push through the wall of fangs and claws that stood before him, and to shaken to even take his feet, Tolarn looked to either side is the two hunters took aim at him from either side.
"You see, part of what makes we Worgen such forceful members of the Alliance is the that we don't mind getting our claws dirty. Lord Greymane kept us strong and fierce behind the wall and even now, with Gilnean blood and the Goldrinns might, we are much more capable and willing that other members of the Alliance. Lucky for us, Tauren make a bountiful stew." She said never turning her piercing eyes from his broken and defeated gaze. She drew her dagger and cut the straps of his armor leaving only his leathers and hide.
He knew what would come next but only wondered why it hadn't come yet. He looked around. The hunters still ready to lose more arrows, the druid, in perfect position to finish him, three wolves itching with anticipation and the mocking gaze of two ravens. The only thing missing was…
"Sir!" The female affirmed looking behind the fallen warrior. Tolarn turned as best he could to see the old warrior approaching in his Worgen form.
"Not much of a hunt, I must say." He scoffed almost disappointed that the young bull presented no real challenge and even now seemed to be groveling in the snow. Tolarn looked into the old wolf's eyes. There was no sign of amusement or sympathy. No these aged eyes only looked disappointed. The old warrior stepped between Tolarn and drew his sword. "Not much of a hunt at all."
Tolarn drew on the last bits of his strength and stood as tall as he could before the warrior. "I am Tolarn Ragetotem. Of the of the finest warriors in the Thunderbluffs." Tolarn said sternly before hefting his weapon. Impressed with the display the Worgen leader stood at attention with his sword.
"Daryl Blackclaw; of Gilneas." He said firmly. "My daughter Margret; our comrades Brandon and Marcus, and our companions." He motioned to his entire party before returning both hands to his sword. "Are you ready Tolarn Ragetotem?"
The Tauren gripped his axe with both hands steadied himself on his good leg. "I am."
It was over quickly. A clash of iron and the muffled sound of packed snow. The ravens called into the sky as the sound of snarls and ripping flesh echoed through the snow.
All are weary of the Worgen and for good reason. But for all their savagery and ferocity, none can say they are without their honor.