Now that you have seen the base story of the tribe it is time to see the stories of our people in further depth. While it would seem more appropriate to show you Mharin, I shall instead let you see Rhyia. Rhyia did not succumb to madness. She did not give up. Now she is trapped on some further layer of the waking dream. Do not worry my friends for she is not alone there. Our beloved Jalna'ar and little Noglytun managed to make the crossing with her.
Some people say you don't just smell blood. That instead you taste it in the air. As a child I never understood that. Never knew that you really could taste the scent of blood. The war against the centaurs changed that, not only for me but for many of my yearmates. That war stole so much from me and my sister. It drove our mother into arms other than my fathers and on the last day of that war it took my fathers life.
We are twins. Calves blessed by the Earthmother, at least that's what the elders said. I never noticed anything special growing up. My sister was forever bringing home plants and animals. Mother hated coming home to see one more of her findings. As she grew up her gift of finding new plants made her invaluable to the tribe. She brought them something new to learn and Earthmother knows, they were always after new knowledge.
But this is not about Mharin. *smiles* This is about me. I was my mother's bane, a real blemish on her reputation. Why you ask? Because I was clumsy. I was worse than clumsy. I tripped over everything imaginable. My hooves, my tail, even the grass. I'm pretty sure I even tripped over air a few times. It was so bad that when I was around nine cycles mother sent me to spend my days with the warriors in hopes that having so many sharp objects around would cure my clumsiness. *snorts* Hah! All it did was give Mharin more practice in sewing.
So as I grew even older I started slipping away from the camp. I followed my father when he went hunting. Poor father. How it must have hurt taking me along for I was forever angering animals by stumbling across their tails and smashing their dens. Father was always the one to pay the price though for he always jumped in to protect me. For around seven cycles things were well… and then came the centaurs.
Father never trusted them but no one paid attention to his words. He was only a hunter and mother led the council. Mother welcomed those foul beasts with open arms and gifts. A promise of peace she told us. We would live side by side and share our knowledge with each other. One thing the centaurs did was teach me to be graceful. From their arrows and spears came a lesson harder then any other. One, their chief's son, was very fond of trying to poke arrow holes in my hide.
That centaur gifted me with swiftness and strength. He, out of all of his fellows, taught me to dance with the Earthmother's own grace. *peels off her armor and raises the left side of her shirt* See this? *points to a jagged scar about a finger length long. A taurens finger length* This is what that centaur boy left me with. Had it not been for a jagged arrow shot into my chest by that boy father would have been taken by surprise when they turned on us.
Let's see… The day it happened I was actually out with Mhar helping her gather more plants. I had wandered close to the edge of the trees. *shakes head* So foolish… I saw the centaur boy before he fired but thought nothing of it. It wasn't until the arrow pierced my chest that I actually looked at him. His grin… *shudders* I must have screamed when I was hit for the boy took off and Mhar came running. Her growing druidic powers saved me although we didn't know that's what it was at the time.
Mhar got us home and went straight to father. He tried to rally our tribe, he really did, but mother spoke against him yet again and our tribe, fools that they were, followed her council. Thankfully some of those who respected father kept their weapons near that night. They alone allowed the rest of us to escape. Their lives were traded for ours. The long nights we traveled and the days that followed are mostly blended into one memory. After the third tribe that had taken us in was attacked and forced to flee the elders decided they would start hiding calves.
The next few moons were spent in terror for Mhar and me. We were so afraid that the lots would choose us. They sent those chosen in different directions hoping they would find hiding places safe from the centaurs. The fights between mother and father got to be too much. She told us that she had found a mighty warrior willing to keep us safe. She was so angry when Mhar turned her back on her and walked away.
That was the last day father listened and obeyed the council. After that they sent out the calves and each morning a centaur ran up to return their heads to us. *shudders* The first time the centaurs dropped of the bag containing our tribesmates heads the elders were stupid enough to open it in front of everyone. I was terrified when I saw my yearmates heads, so terrified that I tried to run away. Thankfully father found me before I got too far.
It was during the third moon after the first attack when the elders decreed that the remaining warriors would take the few calves left and try to get them to safety with one of the untouched tribes. We all gathered in the center of the camp. Mhar and I stayed by our father. Mother came up and told us to join the other calves… *sighs* I remember the look of anger on father's face and the look of disgust on Mhar's. Mhar took one step toward our mother and spoke. She said "You left us to feed your own lusts and protect your own hide. I do not follow you elder and ask me not to obey again for my mother is dead."
We were the only calves that were not with that group. They set out after dark and the next morning… *looks down at her hands* the next morning the centaurs brought their heads back to us. Mhar and I were the only calves left. We fled that day, running hard, trying to make safety and we found the Bloodhoof tribe. We made our stand with them that moon. For two counts of seven suns they fought. Mhar and I tended the wounded, trying to get the warriors back on their feet as soon as possible.
It was there that Mhar's druidic gift burst into full life. There she healed and healed, stopping only for food and drink, catching but a few hours sleep each day. It was also there that she found others like her. The Runetotem tribe had several with the druidic ability. The druidic gift had been a part of their tribe for as long as they could remember and they thought it was merely a healing gift granted by the Earthmother. She was accepted into their ranks quickly, almost like she had been born to them and father watched with pride.
My aid was not quite so glorious. I cooked and cleaned the camp, made bandages, and just ran around trying to make things easier for the healers. Two counts of seven suns we stayed there and then one evening father told me to gather our stuff and told Mhar to sleep. He headed for the Bloodhoof's chief. Later that night he returned and led us from the camp.
We traveled for a few hours and just before dawn came to a stream. Father found an animal den on the bank of the stream and demanded we get in. It was hard for us to squeeze into the den but somehow we managed. He told us to stay there as long as we could and covered the entrance with branches. I was closest to the entrance and could still see out through the boughs. Father quickly got rid of any tracks leading to the den and then turned to leave.
I never saw the arrow that killed him but I could hear it fly through the air. I could hear the grunt that came from father when it hit and I watched his body as it fell across the boughs hiding the entrance. The Earthmother willed those boughs to hold, of that I have no doubt, and they held and the bank seemed whole. They had hyenas with them. I could no longer see out but I could hear them sniffing trying to find us. The Earthmother willed that they fail to find our scent and the centaurs went splashing off through the stream still looking for us.
We stayed in that den for three suns without food and with very little water. Then came the footsteps. The sound of someone muttering in a strange language and our fathers body began to move. The strange creature's eyes widened as the boughs moved with fathers body and we came into view. I later learned that the creature who had found us was a troll, a warrior to be exact. She brought us back to the Bloodhoofs and there we found that the centaurs had been defeated and driven out and the last of our people had fallen in battle. We were all that remained.
She stayed behind at the camp with us when the High Chief led our remaining warriors to battle for the one known as Thrall. She stayed with us and we stayed with the remaining tribes for the next two cycles. Many moons after the High Chief had left he returned with other strange creatures… Humans, Dwarves, Gnomes and the Kaldorei or Night Elves as they were called. One among the elves was a druid named Malfurion Stormrage. He taught the Runetotems to use their druidic gifts and they taught Mhar.
We were safe and free. We, the last of the Stonehorn. *pulls her armor back on and sighs* Some people say you don't just smell blood but taste it in the air and they're right. My father's blood I still taste to this day, four cycles after his death.
Recorded for;
Rhyia Swifthoof, Skinner and Leatherworker, Mistress of the Hunt, Tribe Stonehorn
By;
Grajaad Softhand, Tailor and Enchanter, Lorekeeper of Stonehorn
