The story of a Legendary WarriorEdit

Back in the mists of time, a time before the rise of the seven mighty Human Kingdoms, a time before Arathor united Humanity under a single banner, there was war, war between Human and Troll, Human and Human, and Human against the Wilds.

As the Arathi Tribe fought for their Highlands, the Eablorn Tribe led a nomadic existence within the western ranges of the Alterac Mountains. Neither tribe had met the other but the events that would unfold would create a legend.

Ruled by their Chieftain Enrix, the Eablorn had never faced the hardships of war beyond the rare threat from Trolls. Most of their able bodied men were skilled hunters and as they went to gather food, the women would care for the young, old, sick and cook whatever the men managed to gather. This was how it had always been, that is until one woman would come along and change her path in life, and she was Shamira.

Shamira hadn’t grown up like every other girl in the Tribe. She had spent her youth fighting with the boys, who like her were eager to become hunters like their fathers. Even with this she was still fated to become like the other women of the Tribe and not hunt, a fate she had no plans on accepting.

The year she turned twenty a Dire Wolf became a threat to the Tribes hunting parties, and even their best hunters had had no luck in slaying the beast. As night fell over the Tribes encampment, Shamira stole her fathers hunting spear and crept out into the darkness. In the small mountain range beyond the Eablorn encampment was were the beast’s lair was told to be and with spear in hand, Shamira knew she would either kill the wolf or die trying.

Approaching the cave the gave the beast shelter, she could her it breathing from within, and then came a small growl with the gentle thud as its mighty paws landed on the cold stone floor of the cave. Then out of the darkness appeared two yellow ears; for the moment Shamira froze on the spot, but as the beast pounced at her she recovered her senses just in time.

Moving her spear in a sharp upwards arch she managed to slash the wolf’s left eye and for the moment, knock it off balance. Taking advantage of this, Shamira thrust the spear towards the beast’s neck, but he reacted with lightning fast speed and batted the spear to the grown, snapping the end from it. Not for the first time, Shamira felt panic grip her and she thought of running, but knew she wouldn’t get far. Spurred on by her hope for life she once more thrust the spear towards the wolf.

Unfocused by the panic that had stolen her attention, she hadn’t noticed that the beast was less than an arms length from her when she thrust the broken spear. The tattered shaft of the spear smashed through the roof of the wolf’s mouth and onwards into its brain. The beast shuck violently as it felt its end draw near, before finally collapsing with a heavy thud that nearly knocked Shamira from her feet.

For over an hour she stood there in shock over what she had done. It was only when she heard the faint calls of alarm from the Eablorn’s encampment that she knew she had been discovered missing and it wouldn’t be long before one of their trackers located her. Sure enough, Shamira was found and at first even the tracker couldn’t believe the sight of what he saw. Picking up the beasts body he instructed Shamira to follow him back to the encampment.

When they arrived back the tracker was greeted with cheers and many of the Tribe believed that he had slain the beast and saved the wandering Shamira. No doubt for the moment he considered taking the credit, after all who would believe she could have slain such a monstrous creature. The truth however must be heard and he told the Tribe how she had been found with the impaled wolf. As dawn broke the following day, Shamira was given the skin of the mighty dire wolf and from that day she was named Shamira the Wolfmaiden. Shamira would now join the hunting parties and crafted her own special weapon by taking ten spear-heads turning them into a claw of claw like blades.

Years past and the Trolls threat would continue to grow larger. So large that the Chief of the Arathi Tribe planned to unite all the Human Tribes behind him and there was only one way to do that, war. Many Tribes fell before the might of the Arathi Tribe and it wasn’t long before they turned their attention towards the Eablorn. Enrix refused to surrender to Thoradin and upstream from modern day Tarren Mill the army of Arathi formed up on the eastern bank, as Enrix led out a much smaller army, made up mainly of hunters.

The battle between the two lasted for hours as the Arathi Tribe tried time and again to cross the river, but was beaten back at range by the bows of the Eablorn. However the battle would come to an end when a Arathi warrior through his spear towards the Eablorn and struck Enrix in the chest. As their Chieftain fell the rest of the Eablorn Tribe fled back towards their encampment, carrying the body of their fallen leader with them. Thoradin decided not to push the attack further and instead made a fortified position on the western bank.

As night fell over the land, the Eablorn cremated Enrix and with his death many believed they would see their own end. Shamira for one wasn’t going to meet such an end without a fight. She spent the night rallying what warriors she could and as the first signs of light came over the mountain the Eablorn was as ready as they could be to face the battle-hardened Arathi.

Thoradin had not been idle during the night and had managed to put together a basic earthwork, of a ditch which was split into to by Earth Bridge. However the morning also brought a thick mist that made visibility poor at best, but still Thoradin felt confident that the Eablorn would not come out to fight and if they did not in force, so he decided to spend a small vanguard forward into the mist and onwards to his rivals encampment.

Shamira took full advantage of the mist and sent a small party of scouts forward to see how well the Arathi were prepared at the river. The Scout party ran into Thoradin’s vanguard and in the quick melee that followed the scouts were butchered. Back at his encampment at the river the sounds of battle were heard and the main part of the Arathi army prepared themselves. The commander of the vanguard then made a vital mistake. Instead of pushing on towards the Eablorn encampment he decided to return to the Arathi to report to Thoradin that their rival is destroyed and will likely surrender.

As the vanguard return to their encampment, Shamira, after hearing the battle, decides that the Arathi are well prepared for them and instead of a frontal assault splits her force into two and plans to strike the Arathi from the north and south. Back at the river Thoradin’s men are on edge and eager to fight, so it is off little surprise that when their own vanguard starts to appear in the mist that they charge at them.

In the confusion that follows, many Arathi warriors are slain by their own before they brought back under control, but by now their main force are outside their defence and from the mist on their flanks appear the Eablorn warriors who charge with Shamira into the fray. The battle that followed was much briefer than the one yesterday, but much more bloody. Shamira fights like a wild animal and with her claws, slices through the Arathi warriors. The Arathi take heavy loses, but with sheer weight of numbers they are able to defeat the Eablorn and capture their remaining warriors. Those who survive are brought before Thoradin, who offers them peace and unification against the Trolls.

Shamira accepts the terms of peace and along with the rest of the Eablorn; she joins the Arathi Tribe as they bring all the other Human Tribes together. Her brutal fashion of fighting marks her as a true warrior and at the forming of the Kingdom of Arathor is stands as one of their most notable warriors. This would be proved more as Arathor and Quel’thalas agree an alliance against the Trolls. Shamira’s skills would prove deadly, but the battles would not come without a price and she would loose an eye to a Troll club. This however wouldn’t stop her from taking part of the vital battle in the Alterac Mountains.

For days the battle would rage and unlike those of the years before this battle would be won by the magic of the Elves and their Human students, rather than the brute strength and fighting skills of old. With the war at an end, Shamira returned to Strom and found the first peace she had known since her youth with the Eablorn.

Over the years in Strom, Shamira would be gifted with a daughter who like her mother would be taught the arts of war, as well as some of peace. When it became clear that King Thoradin’s was dying, he had the bravest and most powerful summoned to him. Those that came included Chieftains from the old Tribes, or their heirs and mighty warriors, among these of course was Shamira. Each be gifted something from their dying King, that being either weapons, armour, treasures or lands.

When it came to Shamira’s turn, she was granted land in the distant Alterac Mountains to watch over, as well as a golden crescent necklace, within which were set three stones of sorts; one of the darkest black, another which appeared to contain a living mist and finally one that glowed with a peaceful light.

As for the lands in Alterac that were granted to Shamira no records serve that say where they were or how large it was. Some say that these might have been destroyed by the Perenolde Family when the city of Alterac was first built. The necklace would be handed down through the generations of Shamira’s family and was always left to the oldest female, who also was given the title of the Wolfmaiden. The fate of Shamira herself is also unknown and is likely to have died of old age within Strom.

The practice of passing on the necklace lasted for hundreds of years until one generation came along. Yidano Lamdar, the blood descendent of Shamira had three daughters. First she gave birth to her twin daughters and then a third daughter some years later. Unwilling to have only one inherit the necklace, it was remodelled into three pendants each with its own stone. The one twin received the black stone; the other received the light stone and finally the youngest received the mist stone.

It was from these generations that the path of the Wolfmaiden was split. Neither of the three claimed the title and they were content enough with the value of the trinket more than anything.

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