The story of Varuul
Gather around the sacred fire, my friends, for the time has come for me to tell you of my early life, and the events that set me on this path.
Of my birth, I know nothing. Only that I was found as a young calf, wandering the forest near a remote village. How I came to be there, I do not know, but I surely would have died if not for the noble tauren who found me and took me back to his village. He was but a poor farmer, and had not the means to keep and raise some unknown calf, but he did have a good heart, and so took me to a nearby town, and persuaded the circle of warriors to take me in. I have not seen the farmer since that day, and I do not remember his face, I know only that I was given his name, Varuul, and that today I carry the name proudly, and hope to live up to the kindness and compassion of the tauren who thought my life worth saving.
And so, I was raised a warrior by the tribe, and had a rough but good upbringing by these rough but tauren. They raised me as best they could, and showed me great kindness in their way by training me in the arts of the warrior as one of their own. However, as I matured into a young bull, it became increasingly clear that I was no warrior despite my training, and I could often be found neglecting my sword drills to walk the rolling plains and shady forests, fascinated by nature and all its creations. My instructors were not pleased that I lacked a warrior's spirit, but did not know what to do with me, so my training continued until the day of my final testing approached, the day that would see me become an honoured brave of the tribe, and recognised as an adult. On the night before my testing, the chief instructor of young warriors came to me, and told me words I will never forget. He said “Varuul, if you continue on this path you will become a brave. You will spend your days in practice and when needed, in the defense of our sacred lands. But you will not be content. I have seen the look in your eyes as you gaze upon the land, and wonder at its creatures, and I know this: you are not meant for this life, or this tribe. Go, Varuul, and do not look back, for you leave behind only a life of regret.”
So I left the tribe that night, in secret so they would not seek to return me to the life set out for me, for to not take the final test was a great dishonour. I whispered my thanks to my mentors and friends as I left, that the wind might carry my feelings to them as they slept, and set out across the plains towards lands unknown to me. My tears fell to the fertile earth as I walked, soaking into the soil as I left the place that had been my home for so long.
. . .
At the time, I did not know it, but within three moons of my leaving the orcs came to the tauren lands I had left behind, and my people were torn from their peaceful way of life and into the war with the burning legion. That tale is for another to tell, for I will tell you of what happened at my journey's end.
I do not know how long or how far I traveled, but the knowledge I had gained served me well, for I lived off the land as I traveled, and nature was good to me. As I traveled and the moons passed, the pain of my leaving faded, and I began to wonder what new path I would take, now seemingly free of any purpose or destiny. As chance would have it, my wondering was answered by a chance meeting. He was a night elf, and a druid, but he was alien to me, as my travels had cut me off from news of the rest of the world, and I knew not of the war, and the reawakening of the druids. At first wary of one another, we became friends, and he told me of the war, and that it had recently ended. Then he began to tell me of the way of the druids, and that he had been sent to scout the land and find a suitable site for a new enclave of druids. I was fascinated by his words, and agreed to travel with him and protect him as he searched, and as we traveled he told me more of the druids and the circle of Cenarius. We found a place in a forest, secluded and tranquil, that was suitable for the building of the enclave. He sent word to his order using the birds as messengers, and soon more druids were arriving, and construction of the enclave began. I meant to leave when they arrived, for my protection was no longer needed, but as I prepared my pack for my renewed journey, the druids stood before me as a group, and asked me to stay. It was not a difficult choice, for I maintained my love of nature, and the way of the druids seemed somehow right to me, as if all my thoughts and feelings had met in this one philosophy, and suddenly my path became clear.
For the second time in my life, I was taken in by strangers and taught their ways, but this time their ways were my own, and I took to their teachings so quickly that they often joked that I was an elf born with horns. I stayed with the enclave for several cycles, and was content. Until the day my life was torn apart.
I grow weary, my friends, and my throat dry. I will continue my tale on another day, at a different fire. I will tell you of the tragedy that befell the enclave, I will tell you of how I learned that not all groups were as tolerant as the druids, and of how I came to make my dark vow. My vow of vengeance without mercy.