Path of the Windtalker

[hurun]

((This is the story of Hurun, and the events that lead to him meeting the Fellowship.))

*5 years ago, just after the founding of Durotar*

The winds blew softly in the cool morning breeze of the Stonetalons. It would be a few more hours till sunrise, and the evening chill still settled on the quite glade. A slight movement, the grass crunched underhoof as a stag made it's way into the clearing. It moved slowly, listening and looking about, making sure it was safe. The stag walks into the clearing, all seeming to be as it should. It finds a spot of grass that has not been frozen by the cool evening dew, and starts to eat. Then without a sound, no movement to run, the stag falls over. The glade falls as silent as the stag, which now has an arrow in it's side.

The hunting party walks out of the treeline, three Shu'halo. The clearly youngest of the three runs up to the fallen stag, a smile on his face. The eldest looks down at his son along with his daughter. Pride etched on his face, at the sight of his sons first kill. They do not spend much time with celebration at this time, as morning soon comes, and they need to get back to the village.

The scene is interrupted by an explosion of excitement. A orc burst into the glade. He seems to be engulfed in bloodlust, but is wounded and clearly fatigued. The three shu'halo have readied their bows, though they have yet to point them. The orc glares at the three, consumed in his rage. He rears back, letting out a mighty roar that seems to shake the very ground the shu'halo stand on. As his roar ends, he falls back passing out.

The eldest of the hunters moves to check the orc. The enraged warrior has passed out, clearly from his multiple wounds. The elder shu'halo puts his bow away, pulling out bandages instead. He instructs his two children to gather the stag. Within moments, the three hunters leave the glade, with their game, and the orc in hand.

After a few hours, the three step out of the woods, looking down into a small valley. Just as the sun comes over the mountains on the far side, the sun reveals the small village nestled south of Windshear Crag.

[Gul]

(( ;ooooooooo;

The beauty of Stonetalon. I love this, Hurun! ))

[hurun]

The hustle and bustle of the village was in full swing before the sun even fully rose. The sounds of the small smithy rang out faintly. Fires simmered the morning breakfast, the aroma of venison and fruit seeped into the tents awaking the young shu'halo.

The recent game had already been brought back, and had been divided up. Part of it was cooking, giving off a sweet smell that rumbled bellies of the drowsy eyed young. Some of it was prepped to become the jerky the hunters carried with them. The soft fur was being washed and readied to become a new blanket for a young couples newborn.

The children finally moved about with some purpose. They grabbed some of the hot venison and sweet fruit, and began to go about their morning duties. A number of them headed down to the nearby stream to collect water, though, as most children, they chose to play in the water instead. They splashed around, chasing eachother. They froze as a large shadow seemed to cover them all. They looked up to see a powerfully built shu'halo elder.

He glared at the children, they started to shrink away as the elder took a few steps toward the stream. He placed a large hand in the water. After a moment, several water orbs rose from the stream....and started chasing the children. The elder shu'halo let out a roaring laugh as the children where surprised by the splashing orbs.

The shu'halo made his way back to the village with a smile on his face, leaving the children to continue playing with the unbusted water orbs. He walked towards the largest tent, greeting those along his way with a hearty hello. As he neared the entrance, he looked to see a young shu'halo nearby. The youngling had drawn a rune in the dirt, and used the elements to cause some dirt to hover between his hand and the ground. A young Windtalker to be sure. The elder smiled, then entered the tent.

Inside, several shu'halo surrounded the orc that had bursted into the glade. He lay there, sweating and breathing heavily. His wounds were being retreated, but an arrow wound had become infected, causing the sweating. The elder approached, and the other shu'halo parted in quite reverance. The elder looked over the orc. Even in his sleep, the orc seemed to know no peace, his body wracked with savage pain.

The elder placed his heavy hands on the orc. The orc, even while still unconsious, seemed to get the hands off of him. The elder pushed down, pinning the orc to the mat on which he layed. A soft green glow seemed to suck the light from the rest of the room, emenating from the heavy hands. After a few moments the glow desipated, and the orc stopped resisting. He layed there calmly for the first time since coming to the village.

The elder stood up, and turned to head to the doorway. He reached over, and took the arrowhead in hand that had been pulled from the orc. He motioned for two others to come with him, one was the hunter that had brought him here, the other, another Windtalker. They walked slowly towards the exit.

"I find it curious Holt that this is what cased the wound. It is clearly of shu'halo make...but it has been poison tipped. You saw nothing else?"

"No Brother, I saw nothing else. I find it strange too. Is it possible that the kaldorei are behind this?"

"I do not believe so. It is true the kaldorei are still angry with the orcs for what happened last year, but they would not use wyvern poison or our arrowheads. Besides, they have been keeping to themselves in Ashenvale and the summit."

"Surely no shu'halo would have used this against an orc. It doesn't make since.

The elder stopped just short of the doorway, the other two in quick succession. He turned to face them.

"I will speak with the Winds on this matter. Perhaps they can divine some information to us, regarding this odd situation. Holt, I need you to take your hunting party out and collect more meat, the Grimtotem ambassadors will be here in a couple of days."

"Verywell Brother, I shall make sure it is taken care of."

With that, Holt grabbed his bow and quiver, and headed outside.

Elder, I have a strange filling about this meeting. The Winds have been restless. An now with this..

The elder holds up a hand, cutting the Windtalker off.

"Do not worry yourself Niyol. Let me deal with the Grimtotem. You have other matters to deal with. I see your son Hurun possesses the "Gift." It is good to see that our teachings will continue to be passed on for another generation. Go, help him along some more, and place your mind at ease."

Niyol bows his head, and leaves the tent. A young female shu'halo walks up to the elder.

"Is everything okay father?"

"Yes Shyma, everything is fine."

The elder looks across the room to the orc.