Grim Views

A Druid's Vow

Cloudspeak - January 30, 2006

A Druid's Vow

"What are you looking at, grandson?"

I smiled at the sound of the familiar voice, but kept my eyes on
the sky.

"Why do you always ask me questions you already know the answers,
to?"

"An old woman’s way of getting the young to speak aloud. Since
the young so rarely listen to the council of the old, perhaps
their own words will convince them to cease wallowing in
futility."

She put her hand on my shoulder and I turned and looked at the
old hand resting there. The dark fur was streaked with gray and
the fingers knotted with pain. I reached up and gently rubbed her
fingers. She sighed slightly in relief as I touched her aching
bones.

"I always listen to your council, great mother."

"Ah. So you choose to ignore me."

I glanced at her and smiled affectionately before turning back to
the sky.

"It has been generations since the Cloudspeaks could read the
sign, grandson. The secrets of the sky remains hidden from us."

"We will again."

She sighed and removed her hand, then stepped forward to stand
next to me admiring the view of the valleys from the edge of the
mesa. "This quest of ‘honor’ has destroyed many of our tribe’s
bulls. Fine and brave, they wasted their lives." I could feel her
eyes on me then. "I do not want to see you follow this path."

I turned to her and took her by the shoulders. I wished I could
find the words to tell her. Tell her how hard it was to live with
shame of - not the tribe’s loss - but the manner in which it was
lost. How hard it was to bear the weight of my ancestor’s
dishonor. In truth I did not care to read the sign hidden among
the clouds, nor the secrets whispered by the birds. Knowledge of
the future was dangerous. It had helped corrupt our forefather
who had brought the curse which left us blind upon us. I only
wanted to restore our honor.

"I will not fail."

She snorted and brushed my hands away, then turned back toward
the village.

"You have known my heart a long time, great mother," I called to
her. "But I think there is something more behind your words."

She stopped and turned with great effort leaning on her mighty
staff.

"I am concerned about this journey you insist on undertaking."
Her words were uttered softly, the wind nearly whipping them away
before I could hear them. "I sense you are coming to a crossroad
in your life. Much of your future will be determined by what you
find and the decisions you make in the coming days. You are the
last of the Cloudspeak bulls. I fear for you."

"Can you read the clouds, great mother, and kept it secret from
me?" I teased.

"No!" I blinked in surprise at the sharpness of her tone.
"Perhaps an old woman’s intuition? A mother’s love? Not all
things are read in the sky, grandson."

I walked up to her an put my arms around her, brushing my muzzle
affectionately against the softness of her cheek. "I must go. I
must see it for myself."

"I know," she sighed, pushing me back. "I love you like my very
own."

"I know, great mother."

"Hurry back my son."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Land ho!"

The goblin lookouts cry caught my attention. I left my position
near the stern wheel and made my way forward. Already a crowd of
goblin sailors stood at the bow looking eagerly at the horizon.
It had cost me nearly everything I owned to make this journey. My
mouth felt dry as I awaited the sight of land. I swallowed
several times to try and moisten my throat.

I saw its tall and mighty branches first. They burst forth from
the sea and into the sky like some legendary sea monster rising
from the depths to swallow ships and sailors.

Teldrassil.

Even from this far away I could already see the corruption of the
great tree. A blight upon the soul of the Earthmother. What were
they thinking? I wondered. The elves had unselfishlessly given
their immortality to save the world. Then in one great act of
selfishness, undid all they had done. I had heard they fought to
save the great tree and restore the balance. Great mother was
right. Some things were not read in the sky. I could see with my
own eyes teh elves battle was useless. This corruption went to
the roots which even now were clenched into the bowls of the
Earthmother. They could not win. Yet, Stormrage's arrogance drove
them on.

I felt the bile rise in my throat. I gripped the railing of the
ship until the wood began to crack. The bulls of the Cloudspeak
tribe were stripped of their ability to read the signs because
they were not strong enough to act on the knowledge they held.
Whenever it seemed honor would be found and the curse lifted,
they had failed at the crucial moment.

I would not follow them. I would lift the curse and return my
tribe’s honor. I would not fail to act upon the knowledge I held.
The elves did not have the courage to let go. They did not have
the moral fortitude to burn out the festering disease upon the
world they had created. To cut out the tumor they had so
erroneously planted. I would not fail in this. If they could not
do what was right, then I would do so for them. I would see their
wicked creation burned to sea and see its foulness removed from
the world. Even if it meant the end of me.

I turned to the captain as he walked up behind me.

"I have seen enough. Take me home."

The Sign and the Druid

I was making my way through Thunder Bluff to deliver a message to
the elders when I saw her standing among a crowd gathered in the
square. Her fur was as white as snow and she wore simple clothes
of red and purple. Delicate and lovely horns protruded from above
her ears. The crowd was gathered around a speaking druid, Hidua I
think they called him, but I heard little of what he said as my
attention was on the female. That’s when I noticed the hoof.
Dark, with purplish fur. A satyr’s hoof. Only one druid I had
ever heard of had such a hoof.

Snowfeather.

Curious I sat on a log bench and tried to meld into the crowd.
But the speakers words were lost on me as divided my attention
between him and white druid. Occasionally, out of habit, I would
look up at the sky. It was deep blue as the sun was setting. What
few clouds were dotting the sky were round and fluffy like a
rabbit tail. I felt a sudden sense of drowsiness overcome me.

Snowfeather was in chains. Her limbs each bound in iron and each
length attached to a wall. How can this be? I wondered. No chains
of this world can hold a druid. But it was so. She snarled and
spoke harsh words of a language I had not heard before. She spat
them like venom and I soon saw the target of her ire. Though I
could not really see. It was a shadow of the darkness, it was
small and hunched. Two yellow glowing eyes stared emotionlessly
as it lifted a gloved hand to touch the bound druid. Snowfeather
snarled and tried to bite the hand that was hastily pulled back.

Then figure stepped back for a moment gazing at its captive. My
stomach turned when I heard the slithering of its blade as it was
pulled from its sheath. I tried to rise but could not. My legs
had never felt so heavy and no matter how hard I tried, I could
not will them to move. Then the shadow spoke. Its voice was dry
and raspy. Although its tone was firm and resolute, it was not
without sadness or regret.

“I am sorry, Coddler,” it said. “It is for your own good.”

Then she took the blade and struck the satyr’s hoof from the
druid’s leg.

“No!” I screamed as light burst forth causing me to raise my
hands in front of my eyes. As I blinked away the spots and my
vision returned I saw I was staring at the moon. Darkness had
fallen and all around me were gone. I rose to my feet, but
suddenly felt ill as I stumbled about. I fell to my knees in the
pond and vomited. Several late night fisherman cried out in
disgust and complained about the drunks. But I did not care. For
the moment my pride had vanished. I only wanted to purge myself
of the vile feeling of helplessness threatening to overwhelm me.
After a few a while I rose shakily to my feet. Ignoring the angry
stares of those around me, I made my way toward the lift. I
needed solitude and time to think.

“What does it mean, great mother?”

The old woman rose and perched herself on the brick hearth
surrounding the fire place. She gently laid a fresh log into the
dying fire before answering.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” I echoed in surprise.

“The loss of time is not unheard of among those that read the
clouds,” she answered. “But it was just that. A reading which was
brought forward for interpretation. Nothing more. None I have
heard of ever had visions in this manner. Best keep what you have
seen to yourself.”

I shifted uncomfortably and she turned to look at me with
narrowed eyes. “You told her.”

“I spoke to her last night when I saw her in Thunder Bluff,“ I
admitted with a bowed head. “I had not intended to, but… It’s
complicated.”

She snorted. “Yes. A lovely cow seems to have that affect on
simple matters.”

I could feel my face flush under her gaze.

“This was unwise and reckless of you, son,” she told me. “The
future is not set. There are too many influences that guide its
path, and that path is random and chaotic.”

“She said she knew this person.”

“And so matters are worse,” she sighed. “You have planted a seed
of distrust where none had yet been sewed. This alone can have
many affects on the future. Not that I am concerned for the
welfare of this cult. They will all turn on each other like rabid
jackals in the end.”

“She is part of them, they cannot be all that bad,” I said trying
to defend Snowfeather.

“Oh? War and deception are their tools. How do you know she was
not wooing you to their circle?” She struggled to her feet and
eased herself back into her chair. Her gaze fell upon the giant
bow hanging above the fire hearth. The women of the Cloudspeak
tribe had been the interpreters of the sign. With no sign to
interpret they took up other professions. My great mother was a
renown hunter once and her mind seemed to be lost in those times.
I thought she had nothing more to say until she spoke again.
“They are led by a necromancer whose own lands are dead. What
does he care for ours? I am concerned with this contact you now
have with them. I believe they stand against the very nature of
your vow. The return of balance. Your forefathers were some of
the most honorable I have known. But their quest for ‘tribal’
honor destroyed them. The tribe is dying, my son. No one
remembers our deeds any longer. Worry about your own honor. It
will guide you.”

“Even so, I will need strong allies, great mother,” I told her.
“I cannot honor my vow to destroy the great tree alone.”

“True enough, but you must choose wisely,” she leaned back in her
chair and closed her eyes. “Ask yourself, my son, is the price of
your honor worth the cost of your soul?”

I sat awake a long time after she fell asleep. I sat next to her
long after the fire died listening to her breathe and pondering
her question before I answered.

“No, it is not.” I whispered aloud. “But perhaps she is.”

False Chieftain

"Do not be angry, great mother."

"I am not angry," she told me huddled in seat near the fire. She
spent many of her days sitting before the hearth. Even when then
sun is bright in the sky. "Only disappointed."

I smiled wryly. "I thought this news would please you."

"That the necromancer is no more? And what has this changed? How
is your honor no longer at risk among these cutthroats and
backstabbers? Evil turns on itself. It always has. It always
will." She shivered and pulled her blanket tighter about her.

"Perhaps," I agreed. "But the Grim are still strong. I vowed to
destroy the great tree of Teldrissil, no matter that cost. The
Grim will stand by me in this endeavor as no one else will. I
have seen the tree, great mother. If you could see it... To see
it... is more than just hearing about it. I will not rest until
the tree has been cleansed with fire and Stormrage's head is
mounted at the entrance of the Elder Rise."

She shifted restlessly under her blankets. "When did you become
so full of anger, my son?"

I snorted. Why could she not understand? Why did she have to act
the foolish old woman? "My anger is limited to the elves for what
they have done. Nothing more."

"Hate is hate. To play with it's flames is to be burned."

"Bah! I am war chief of the Cloudspeaks! I do not need to justify
my decisions to anyone."

"War chief?" She snorted in disgust. "Chief of what? A dying old
huntress and a gaggle of self-obsessed cows? At least your
sisters do not pretend to act for other than their own desires."

I felt my face flush in shame. She was right. My words were
selfish. I see that now. But then... I was young. And angry.
Angry at the elves, my sisters, my forbearers who lost our honor,
at being pressed into a position I was unprepared for. Mostly I
was angry at myself for my ineptitude, lack of strength to save
the poor druid, Snowfeather, and for speaking such shameful
thoughts to the creature I cared for more than any in these
lands.

"Great mother, I am - " she snorted and waived me away.

"Be gone from my sight, chief," she said quietly staring at the
dancing flames. "You have great things to do and I am tired."

I started to speak, but I held my tongue. What could I say then?
I sighed and left her to her thoughts.

Curse of the Cloudspeaks

Jorin Cloudspeak grabbed the Tauren as she began to rise from the
bedding. He pulled the blanket back up and rubbed his muzzle
against her neck. She pushed him away and started to rise again
only to have Jorin pull her back.

“I have to go.”

“It is still dark,” he complained sleepily.

“Yes. But it will be light soon and I have much to prepare for.
So do you.”

“Ah, Lyra,” Jorin said with a chuckle. “It is your fault I am so
tired.”

Lyra snorted and slapped him playfully, then stood to pull her
wrap if skins and cloth about her. Jorin sighed and rose as well
following her to the entrance of his hut. She pulled back the
kodo skin covering the entrance and looked about. It was indeed
still dark although the fading stars bathed the village in a
faint blanket of light. Jorin touched her shoulder and nuzzled
her again. She patted his cheek.

“I love you,” Jorin told her.

“And I love you.” She turned and stepped out into the night,
dropping the flap behind her.

The morning had been busier than even Jorin had expected. As a
member of the war chief’s council and lead advisor to Karn
Two-Fires, it was his duty to assist in the preparations for the
war chief’s journey. Even though much has been done over the
previous weeks, there were still last minute details to work out.

All the while, here and there, he caught glimpses of Lyra as she
walked among the people. Giving reassuring words to worried
parents and mates, speaking with kindness to young and old, thank
those busy packing the last of the supplies. Jorin was always
stunned how amazing she was. Quick witted, lovely and kind to all
she met. He found himself wishing he could sneak away with her
for a few moments, but he brushed the thought aside. There would
be time for that when the work was done. And great work it was.

In the time before Cairne Bloodhoof, the Scourge or the Alliance,
the Tauren hunted and offered their prizes in sacrifices of
thanks to the Earthmother for her blessings. For generations the
Cloudspeak and Eagleclaw clans had lived, hunted and fought
together. Their leaders had recognized the potential of a union
and together they formed the Two-Fires Tribe. Whenever a war
chief passed a new chief was selected and took the name of
Two-Fires. Karn was an Eagleclaw, a tribe of powerful shamans and
warriors. The Cloudspeaks were the finest hunters and – more
importantly – readers of the sign. From their great height, the
clouds could see all, including what was beyond the horizon. This
was the Cloudspeak gift. The reading of the sign in the clouds.
Most Cloudspeak bulls could read the sign, but it was the females
who were the interpreters, who made sure the reader was not
misunderstanding what he saw or who’s judgment was not unduly
clouded by personal emotion such reading may cause to rise in
their hearts. The lead advisor to the war chief was always a
Cloudspeak, no matter which tribe wore the mantle. It was a
position of great honor and trust.

It was Jorin’s reading which had prompted this expedition. It was
a time of relative peace. The Tauren villages were thriving
everywhere. The quillboar had not yet become a nuisance and
mostly kept to themselves and their own ways. But lately there
had been seen a gathering of strange creatures. They ran on four
legs with cloven hooves. They had bare torsos, with two upper
limbs and bearded faces. Meetings between the Tauren and these
new beasts were rare, but always deadly. They were savage and
vicious and killed everything they saw with no chance of barter.

Jorin’s reading had caused much concern with the elder Two-Fires.
The clouds told the story of these creatures at war with the
Tauren, their great numbers flowing unchecked into their lands
and killing all Tauren they saw. Warriors, hunters, the old, the
young and the sick. They showed no remorse. Just as disturbing to
the war chief was the tale of green-skinned warriors entering the
lands of the Tauren. The clouds would not reveal their purpose –
for good or ill – nor would they tell when this would come about.
But Karn was not one to remain idle. He immediately sent
emissaries to the largest tribes of the land. Although the
abilities of the Cloudspeaks were known among many of the Tauren
it would take all the chief’s persuasive power to get the
peaceful Tauren to bolster their defenses against an invasion
which may or may not happen. But Karn Two-Fires had not become
war chief by being a creature of inaction.

Jorin stood on one of the many village rises watching the party
disappear over the horizon. He glanced up at the smattering of
clouds wondering about the weather, when something caught his
attention. His eyes widened and his breath came in gasps as he
read their story.

“Are you all right?”

Jorin jumped at the sound of Lyra’s voice behind him. He shook
his great shoulders and turned toward her.

“I am fine,’ he said with a hesitant smile.

“I thought perhaps you were making a reading,” she commented with
concern. “You don’t look well.”

“It’s nothing,” he assured her. “You know how it can be.
Sometimes you think you see something, but really do not.” He
shrugged. “Will I see you tonight?

“No. But do not fear,” she said placating him and his look of
disappointment. “I will make it up to you tomorrow.” With that
she turned to go.

He watched her walk away for a moment before turning back to the
sky. He shook his head. No, such a thing was not possible. There
were no creatures of such he had read for many weeks travel form
here. With a great sigh he turned from the horizon and walked
back to the village.

Karn Two-Fires was nervous. A feeling the shaman had rarely
encountered. It was nearing dark, but instead of making camp for
the evening, he was detailing more scouts to locate those who had
not reported back at the appointed time. He was about to order a
halt and the building of a defensive camp when yelling and sounds
of battle began filtering down the line. Karn stood up in the
stirrups of his kodo trying to see. What he saw terrified him.
Hundreds of the cloven-hoofed beasts came running over the rise
crashing into the small expedition’s half-formed lines.

Two-Fires called upon his warriors to form defensive lines, but
there were very few left. Many shaman had fallen in the initial
attack and the few left were exhausting themselves keep their
remaining tribesmen alive. He dropped his own weapon as a spear
pierced his lung. He broke it off at the shaft and shoved its
splintered end into the throat of his attacker. The Two-Fire
tribe fought well, their small band slaughtered five times their
number, but there were too many. As Karn lie dying on the bloody
ground watching his people fall around him, his vision blurred.
But he was not dying yet. Karn Two-Fires of the Eagleclaw Tribe
was not only a powerful shaman, but a seer in his own right.
Occasionally he was visited by vision of the past. Seeing what
had gone before and learning from the mistakes of his forebears.

As he lay dying he could see his friend and advisor, Jorin
Cloudspeak, speaking on the hill to Karn's mate, Lyra. He could
not hear their words, but he could see the affection in their
eyes. He saw the reading Jorin made as the war chief’s party
crossed over the hill. The reading of the attack on the Karn’s
party. He saw the two – Jorin and Lyra – rutting in the reader’s
tent the night before the expedition was to leave. A night Karn
had spent seeing to the final details of the venture.

Karn struggled to hit feet. Lifting an axe near him, he ignored
his pain and began to cleave his way through the enemy’s ranks.
Fueled by anger unlike any he had ever known, he seemed a being
possessed. He opened a hole through the lines and screamed at his
remaining tribesmen to flee. They hesitated, unwilling to leave
their chief, but he screamed at them again and they ran. Their
fear of him and his anger was as greater than that of their foes.

Several spears struck Karn as he bellowed his curse upon Jorin.
So great was his anger, it struck all the Cloudspeaks. Back in
the village many paused in shock as the Cloudspeak bulls cried
out in terror, holding their hands to their eyes while falling to
their knees. When the pain subsided and they pulled their hands
away from their faces, they found their eyes covered in a milky
film. And while they could see clearly, they were suddenly struck
illiterate when it came to reading the sign. He cursed them with
blindness to the sign, to be won back only through unwavering
deeds of retribution and honor. He also cursed their hearts to
falter when redemption was near. When restoration of honor
reached its pivotal moment, when they could see it and feel it,
they would fail at the crucial moment.

It wasn’t until later when the survivor’s returned to the
village, the reason for the sudden blindness to the future was
revealed. Although they could not repeat the words of the war
chief’s curse, it was obvious Jorin was the target of Karn’s
venom and spite. Soon the Two-Fires Tribe was split. Many on both
sides had suspected there was more than friendship between the
reader and the war chief’s mate. Now suspicion and turned to
anger and the Eagleclaw’s called for Jorin head. The Cloudspeaks
could not give up their leader so easily, no matter the reasons.
Soon open war upon the two tribes. Although the Cloudspeaks had
suffered the worst of the battle, both tribes were decimated.

The Cloudspeaks retreated into the high mesas where they lived in
shame and dishonor, even though they exiled Jorin from the tribe
for his treachery. There they have strived for generations to
restore the honor stolen from them by Jorin’s deceit and Karn’s
anger.

The Eagleclaws tried to rebuild their life in the village. But
their depleted ranks and inept leadership lead to their defeat
against the invading centaurs. They were wiped from all existence
except for memory.