Post by Azalea on Mar 1, 2016 2:13:43 GMT -5
This bit of lore is beyond ancient, as such, only muddled legends remain of it. What is listed here is the true version.
When humans were just taking their first steps into their own world, a shaman who's name is now lost to the wind, was born. For the purpose of the tale, he shall be named Wind Walker.
This shaman chose the path that he walked, knowing that it wasn't an easy one. His tribe put so much belief into shamans, their trust and lives were placed into the shaman's hands. They were leaders just as well as healers, advisers, parents, priests, and so much more. They were the center of the village. In order to become the shaman, many summers past to the point where they were innumerable for their time. Wind Walker was a strong, powerful shaman for many years but he was growing old and feeble as time passed. It was in this time that everything he had created began to unravel before him.
Wind Walker's tribe was small, but they were strong and proud. But, with the strength, power, and numbers that they were combating, how can they protect themselves? A tribe that commanded the wild and ran with wolves. It was terrifying to watch as they gave out their commands and the warriors of Wind Walker's tribe fell to these beasts. The wolves' teeth ripping into their bodies and leaving wounds so deep that they could not be saved. The cries of the women and the dying were so horrid. No matter how many times or how far the tribe retreated, they still found themselves at the same fate to the same adversaries.
Wind Walker fell during one such attack. He urged the tribe forward as they ran, but stopping to help a fallen mother was his own downfall. He felt his flesh tear from the teeth, but he could only smile as the mother escaped. The screams coming from his mouth didn't sound like his own, but even so, he smiled. He smiled not only for the mother that escaped, but for the mere fact that he knew this was not the end. His axe came down on the mongrel's leg and he shoved it aside. His body twisted to push himself up and over the wolf, knowing that there would be a struggle and seeking to end it quickly with a blow to the head...but he fell short.
The simple blow to the creature's leg was enough to make it whimper, and it laid there scared. He stared up at the shaman with these pleading green eyes that Wind Walker had never seen before. Even so, he knew the look the wolf gave him. He had seen it in his tribe's eyes as they fled. The other's of this beast's pack had fallen back, having watched their prey flee and chose to leave this runt, this pup alone to his 'kill.' In that moment, the wolf and man shared an understanding.
If both of them were to flee, neither of them would survive. Their wounds were deep and dirty, the bones mangled within the muscle. If the Shaman were to find his tribe, they could not help fore he was the only one with the knowledge to save himself. The more that they fled, the more supplies they left behind. As far as he knew, none of the supplies made it out of camp this time. Should the wolf find his pack, they would leave him as to not risk the lives of the others.
Wind Walker did the only thing he could at that moment. He laid his axe down, rolled onto his back and began to laugh. So, this was their fate? Lives so different and reasons so harsh, but in the end they were to both die alone?
The wolf just stared at him oddly. He was listening to the man's murmuring, words that he couldn't even begin to understand. The old man attempted to stand but the wolf found himself wincing every time the human screamed. Each time Wind Walker tried, he'd merely fall to the ground in a heap of pain. The old man could hardly move before, and now he couldn't move at all. It was painful to watch. The more the man tried, the more the wolf understood what he was doing. He was going for the cloth, and unlike the man? The wolf could still move, although with pain.
The wolf stood, whimpering in pain. He managed to hobble over to the stone in which the cloth sat, and he ripped it down to bring it to the man. At first, Wind Walker refused but just as the wolf understood through watching, Wind Walker began to understand as well.
Both man and beast worked together toward a shared goal. The wolf brought the supplies and in gratitude, the shaman helped the wolf. He healed both of their wounds, tended to them. In turn, the wolf continued to help, fending off predators and bringing them food. The two bonded, creating something that no one else could even begin to imagine. An old man and a young pup. They never did come in contact with their tribe nor their pack, both left to die without a second thought. A few years past, but soon, the old man began to lay still more. He didn't have as much strength to move, in fact, his strength could barely allow him to breath. He was dying.
Wind Walker made a promise to the young wolf that he would never leave him. On the night of a full moon, the shaman kept his promise. The magic that was preformed has been long lost to the ages but it's effects are still evident to this day. For the first time in history, man and beast lived truly as one. Both having and experiencing forms in which they could have never dreamed of.
Wind Walker became the first shifter, and one of many that would follow. They spread the knowledge of this great gift to others, choosing specifically those that had bonded...but everyone knows how well plans such as that go.
This shaman chose the path that he walked, knowing that it wasn't an easy one. His tribe put so much belief into shamans, their trust and lives were placed into the shaman's hands. They were leaders just as well as healers, advisers, parents, priests, and so much more. They were the center of the village. In order to become the shaman, many summers past to the point where they were innumerable for their time. Wind Walker was a strong, powerful shaman for many years but he was growing old and feeble as time passed. It was in this time that everything he had created began to unravel before him.
Wind Walker's tribe was small, but they were strong and proud. But, with the strength, power, and numbers that they were combating, how can they protect themselves? A tribe that commanded the wild and ran with wolves. It was terrifying to watch as they gave out their commands and the warriors of Wind Walker's tribe fell to these beasts. The wolves' teeth ripping into their bodies and leaving wounds so deep that they could not be saved. The cries of the women and the dying were so horrid. No matter how many times or how far the tribe retreated, they still found themselves at the same fate to the same adversaries.
Wind Walker fell during one such attack. He urged the tribe forward as they ran, but stopping to help a fallen mother was his own downfall. He felt his flesh tear from the teeth, but he could only smile as the mother escaped. The screams coming from his mouth didn't sound like his own, but even so, he smiled. He smiled not only for the mother that escaped, but for the mere fact that he knew this was not the end. His axe came down on the mongrel's leg and he shoved it aside. His body twisted to push himself up and over the wolf, knowing that there would be a struggle and seeking to end it quickly with a blow to the head...but he fell short.
The simple blow to the creature's leg was enough to make it whimper, and it laid there scared. He stared up at the shaman with these pleading green eyes that Wind Walker had never seen before. Even so, he knew the look the wolf gave him. He had seen it in his tribe's eyes as they fled. The other's of this beast's pack had fallen back, having watched their prey flee and chose to leave this runt, this pup alone to his 'kill.' In that moment, the wolf and man shared an understanding.
If both of them were to flee, neither of them would survive. Their wounds were deep and dirty, the bones mangled within the muscle. If the Shaman were to find his tribe, they could not help fore he was the only one with the knowledge to save himself. The more that they fled, the more supplies they left behind. As far as he knew, none of the supplies made it out of camp this time. Should the wolf find his pack, they would leave him as to not risk the lives of the others.
Wind Walker did the only thing he could at that moment. He laid his axe down, rolled onto his back and began to laugh. So, this was their fate? Lives so different and reasons so harsh, but in the end they were to both die alone?
The wolf just stared at him oddly. He was listening to the man's murmuring, words that he couldn't even begin to understand. The old man attempted to stand but the wolf found himself wincing every time the human screamed. Each time Wind Walker tried, he'd merely fall to the ground in a heap of pain. The old man could hardly move before, and now he couldn't move at all. It was painful to watch. The more the man tried, the more the wolf understood what he was doing. He was going for the cloth, and unlike the man? The wolf could still move, although with pain.
The wolf stood, whimpering in pain. He managed to hobble over to the stone in which the cloth sat, and he ripped it down to bring it to the man. At first, Wind Walker refused but just as the wolf understood through watching, Wind Walker began to understand as well.
Both man and beast worked together toward a shared goal. The wolf brought the supplies and in gratitude, the shaman helped the wolf. He healed both of their wounds, tended to them. In turn, the wolf continued to help, fending off predators and bringing them food. The two bonded, creating something that no one else could even begin to imagine. An old man and a young pup. They never did come in contact with their tribe nor their pack, both left to die without a second thought. A few years past, but soon, the old man began to lay still more. He didn't have as much strength to move, in fact, his strength could barely allow him to breath. He was dying.
Wind Walker made a promise to the young wolf that he would never leave him. On the night of a full moon, the shaman kept his promise. The magic that was preformed has been long lost to the ages but it's effects are still evident to this day. For the first time in history, man and beast lived truly as one. Both having and experiencing forms in which they could have never dreamed of.
Wind Walker became the first shifter, and one of many that would follow. They spread the knowledge of this great gift to others, choosing specifically those that had bonded...but everyone knows how well plans such as that go.