User:Aphetoros/Crescenthorn

Crescenthorn is the past Chieftain of the Spirithoof Tribe. After the tribe, in their home in southern Silithus, was mercilessly slaughtered by the Quiraj, he took up the rune-carved totem of his father, who fell in the attack, and led his tribe back to Mulgore, negotiating fiercely with the leaders of Thunderbluff and the Tauren to allow the tribe forgiveness for their transgressions of the past. In doing so, he pledged his tribe to the Horde, though that promise was not one he was going to keep. Later he'd meet the Orcish Warchief Yagyu after many years in the fight against the Alliance, and join his cause in continuing their war. While Thrall begged for peace, forsaking the title of Warchief for Peacechief, Yagyu took up that lost title, leading the Blacktooth Grin clan in the war that they would never stop fighting, even in death, for the skilled clerics and healers of the clan new how to reach deeply into the lands of death to restore life to the Fallen.

Biography
Crescenthorn was born during the nomadic era of the Tauren. He and his tribe, the Spirithoof, lived in Mulgore until he was about three years old, when tensions between his and a few other tribes were high. It hadn’t rained in weeks, the soil dried out and the grass withering. There were maybe one or two tribes that still seemed to thrive and even grow in such harsh conditions, one of them being the Spirithoof. The reason for this was not that this tribe had been good to the spirits, in fact it was quite the opposite. His tribe had begun to stray from the ancient ways, bullying the spirits into their power. This horrified the other Tauren, and it was said that if their ways continued, the clan would be exiled from Mulgore. The tribe disregarded this, arrogantly assuming the rest of the Tauren didn’t have the strength to push them out, even if they wished to. They were wrong, as they continued their ways, many of the Tauren in Mulgore came together as one, driving the Spirithoof from the lands of the Shu’halo in hopes that one day the corrupted tribe would return from their stray path.

The Migration
The tribe migrated to southern Azeroth, first into Feralas, but then for an undocumented reason, migrating down further through a mountain range into the desert lands of the Quraj Kingdom; Silithus. They continued through the mountains, occasionally stopping for long months living in natural or unnatural caves. They reached the southern tip of the lands, where they built a small village few caves. They lived there peacefully, at one point returning to their old ways of shamanism. After quite a while there, the Quraj seemed to reawaken in that region, waging war on anything and everything they could find. Including the Spirithoof. At this point, Crescenthorn was a young man learning the ways of the shaman. The insect-people began to attack the tribe, and they were defenseless against them; not having learned to use their shamanism to defend themselves, only as a connection to the world and their ancestors, they didn’t know how to fight back.

Lar'arikara, War of Sharp Vengeance
The hunters of the tribe attempted to fight, but where massacred and overwhelmed by the army of Quraj. The race of insects could have easily wiped out the entire tribe, but they withdrew after killing nearly half the tribe in combat. Crescenthorn's father had been slain, and taking up his totem he became the Chieftain of the tribe. He and the other surviving shaman and druids preformed the Last Rites for the deceased, cremating them in elemental fire and scattering their ashes to be ’one with the world’. The tribe prepared quickly, no more attacks had come for that week, but they packed up their things, and then having an honorary ’last rite’ for their home, they fled, wondering if the myths about their tribe being driven from Mulgore were true… As it would turn out, none of the Tauren remembered the Spirithoof, but welcomed them back with open arms. As Crescenthorn spoke to the leaders of Thunderbluff, they were eventually allowed to stay within the city, and there they flourished.

Joining the Horde, And Leaving
Learning of the Alliance and Horde conflict and eager to help and prove to themselves they were not weak (when they couldn’t defend themselves they felt weak and useless.) Crescenthorn learned how to fight with his shamanistic abilities from other Tauren, also taking lessons in the Orcish Language, and was soon deployed to help stave off a rumored attack on the Swamp of Sorrows. As Crescenthorn was traveling along the road with map in hand, he came to a crossroads. He kept walking with his head in the map as suddenly there was a shout in a foreign language. He looked up, stopping his leisurely stroll in surprise as, with the clank of armor, he was surrounded by Alliance foot soldiers. He stood there uneasily as they talked at him in Common. He was jabbed in behind with a weapon, they wanted him to walk. He followed uneasily, he hadn’t had sharp metal pointed at him before. As they walked down the road a twig snapped in the undergrowth and the undergrowth rustled. The humans thought nothing of it but Cres hoped that it was the Earthmother sending help. Suddenly there was a cry in Orcish, “Lok’tar Blackteeth!” In nearly an instant waves of frost and flame shot from the sides of the road, bullets and arrows whizzed through the air and into the hearts of the footmen. A group of warriors rushed in and cut and smashed apart and surviving humans. The attacks had been deadly accurate leaving Crescent only moderately singed by fire. An old Orc shaman stepped up to him. “Ay, ya alright Tauren?” Cres glanced nervously at the legion of warriors around him, noting the missing tooth in the man’s mouth. “I…thank you.” He gave Cres a gruff nod. “Ya should come with us ta Stonard. Won’t be long ’fore more soldiers show up.” Cres nodded, stepping into the group of soldiers, eyed suspiciously by more than one troll, elf, or Forsaken.

The Blackteeth
Once they returned to the city, he was greeted by the chief of the clan, Yagyu. He explained about Thrall the Peacechief and how this new sect of the Blacktooth Grin had formed. He told how the old leader of the Blacktooth Grin, Gorfrunch, was one of the many orcs that pillaged Lordaeron during the Second War. Like many other orcs, he too was captured and placed into internment camps. He was freed by Thrall and went on to fight in the Third War, but was disgusted by Thrall's cries for peace afterward and decided to look for his clansmen. He found them in what had become the new Blackrock Clan. As the Blackrock Orcs became more and more under the influence of the black dragons, Gorfrunch participated in a rebellion under the command of Overlord Taugrek. Taugrek was slain in battle by the dragons, and Gorfrunch took up the mantle of leadership, leading the remaining rebels to form a new base in Dustwallow Marsh. As he fought against Theramore, word of his deeds spread and Trolls, Orcs, Tauren, Sin'dorei and even Forsaken flocked to join his cause. This became the New Grin, fighting to ensure that their ancestors didn’t die in war for no reason. Crescenthorn joined the Grin, taught betters ways to fight, their battle-cry "FEAR THE GRIN" and admiring their respect for the fallen. He fought with them for many years, following the exalted path of the warrior shaman, resting but once to tend to his tribal affairs and go on a personal quest-- one to ascend to the way of the Spirit Champion.

An Awakening: Path of the Spirit Champion
Coming Soon.

Return & Stromgarde
After nearly a year absent-without-leave from the Clan, he returned to harsh treatment, but eventually he returned to his original rank, and during one of their campaigns against Stromgarde he was blinded by wounds to his eyes. He had been ambushed by several Grimtotem Tauren during a campaign within Stonetalon, he assumed they were hired by the clan's archrival's the Keepers of Stromgarde (a small militia fighting to defend Stromgarde, which the Grin had attacked and desecrated). They hurled weapons at him, causing him to bleed severely as one rushed from the undergrowth, slashing at his face and cutting through his eyes. Hissing with blind fury, he called to the spirits of the Earth, stomping into the ground and sending a vicious quake to knock down his adversaries. He sliced at them with his twin-totem axes, imbuing the fury of the storm into his swings, devastating the ambushers and leaving them dead in a macabre scene of blood and gore. It was confirmed, they had the Keeper's Tabard on. With his remaining strength he limped back to the Grin's camp to be watched over and healed for several days by the shaman and druids of the clan as he told them of the offense.

The Grin's campaign against the Keepers of Stromgarde lasted quite a long time, they even chased the small army to the frozen wastes at the tip of the world before calling them back to their home and base of operations, Stromgarde. The Grin and Keeper conflict had been fading fast until the Keepers mounted an assassination attempt on the Chieftain and his Right-hand Ashenrock. Yagyu survived with grievous wounds, but Ashenrock had to be taken to Thunderbluff for greater healing. He did not make it. Using catapults they sieged the city for days before breaking down the doors and storming the city, slaughtering the civilians as they made their way to the King's room, never actually making it inside. The people of Strom held out for quite some time, and eventually the Grin attacks stopped, but they did occupy the city for several weeks, not letting the Strom-citizens to leave. The Keepers of Stromgarde had gotten word of the attack and rushed to the defense of their home. Crescenthorn was on watch that night, and he was jumped by a few Keeper assassins. Calling to the spirits for aid, he quickly dispatched them with several quick swings. He decided to take initiative and scout ahead into the night, though blind he felt as though the spirits informed him of what he would see. As he peered into the blackness of the night an arrow cut through it, grazing his cheek. He ran quickly forwards, dodging more projectiles as they rained down. He leaped into the air, pushing off the walls of the keep and slamming down, shaking the ground and knocking the several hunters off-balance and crushing the back of one of their nightsaber pets, with a word he called forth a chain of lightning to arc between them, engulfed in a primal rage as he fought. He felt the whispers of his ancestors giving him guidance, and soon the corpses of his enemies lay about his feet. The pain of his wounds sunk in, and he called weak healing magic to himself. Enough to keep him going. He was commended for the efforts and a few days later the Grin rushed through the streets trashing what they could find, and left.

Death
It had been many more years of fighting, and as the Tauren became old he began to lose himself to his ancestors. Why he received the Call as such an old age he would never have known-- he was past his prime at the age of a hundred-sixty, though the Spirits chose to add life back into his bones. But his mind succumbed to madness, fleeting spirits taking over his body each moment, beating his own spirit down into the deep recesses of his consciousness. He had been possessed that day, by a particularly loyal spirit of a long-dead clan member. One elf chose to leave the Grin, pursue different paths. He laughed; sickening that she thought that.

She would always be Grin. Grin serve forever, in this life and the next.

He leapt forwards, his shape melding into that of a wolf's as he stalked her-- the elf's name was Zythera, an assassin type Sin'dorei working for the Grin. He hunted her with bloodshot eyes. If she would not serve in life, then her Spirit would serve in his mind. The old clanmate's spirit must had fallen into madness long ago. It beat away any other spirits, keeping the body under its sole control. Soon he leapt, changing into a Tauren once more and hurling a sphere of thunder at her. She yelped, flying with the shock as she scrambled away. Others had appeared, a shaman and two Forsaken assassins. They roared at him, commanding him to cease his foolishness. He declined politely as his body shifted into an ethereal form. He cackled as their blades moved through him, futile attempts. He send out a flare of powerful lightning, knocking the two Forsaken away as a thunderstorm raged around him. He froze one to the ground by calling upon a spirit, and with his mace he shattered the earth, a large crevice spewing forth elementals of flame. Mido, the shaman, bound one of the elementals, continuously zapping him with magic. He hissed in pain at each bolt, becoming weaker as he shot all the air from her chest with a call. He shocked them all continuously with waves of fire, manifested ancestors and hounds from the Dream. A grot from the Grin stumbled upon it, staring in awe for the last few seconds of his life before the ground tumbled away beneath him, into a tumultuous quake of lava and stone. Crescenthorn smiled at the death, knowing it was for good.

Soon though he was overwhelmed with Grin spellcasters, and their magic managed to topple his ethereal form. The forsaken rogue Sarks tossed a dagger, it spiraling into his chest, causing blood to leak from the wound as the old tauren fell to his knees, his own self regained. "I..." His voice was a gurgle from within blood. His son Brazk ran to him-- he had been retrieved from the camps at his father's seeming loss of sanity. He caught the Tauren, laying him gently on the ground. "..dad? A-are you alright?" The others made no move to heal him or stop his death, they simply watched with disapproving glares. "I can't heal it... I'm powerless to h-help...him..." The young adult Tauren cried over the dying, stark-white Tauren before turning to the others. "Who do you think you are!? You, you're not his family! He gave up everything...everything for the Grin and y-you watch him bleed out! Y-you're monsters...", he soon lowered to a whimper as Crescenthorn spoke: "Brazk...I know that you will achieve greatness someday, I have seen...An'she watches over you. I wish for more time...but you are the Chief now. All that is mine is yours." Crescenthorn ripped the dagger from his chest, the pool of blood only growing larger as a smile spread on his face and the light died in his eyes. "Fear...the Grin..."

Quotes

 * Ish ne aloe por-ah, child.
 * I wish...I could see my children a last time...
 * Fear the Grin!
 * Spirits...are with you.
 * Die, Alliance scum!
 * Rest well, Spirit. (to anything he kills that he respects.)
 * Brazk...I know that you will achieve greatness someday, I have seen...An'she watches over you. I wish for more time...but you are the Chief now. All that is mine is yours.
 * Your spirit shall not know rest!