Zod

Zod is an experienced warrior of the Stonehoof Tribe and Anointed member of the Tears of Draenor.

=Bio= You sit by the crackling fire, staring into its dancing depths while awaiting the response to your summons. Sparks rise slowly into the night air as you contemplate what has brought you here, onto the distant plains of Mulgore, so far and so different from the red soil of your native Durotar. You busy yourself idly with the preparation of your tools, quill and parchment removed from your pack, ready by your side in order to document every detail of the evening soon to pass. "Horde Scribe", some call you, but indeed there is nothing official in your capacity to be designated as such, your drive to capture history is a task you have taken upon yourself, and if future generations would benefit from such a calling, so be it. You simply need to know.

Word had reached you, in bits and pieces over time, of a Tauren Warrior named Zod. One mention would not have piqued your interest, indeed there were endless stories detailing heroic exploits involving countless names reaching your ears on a daily basis, but these tellings seemed a bit... different. Conflicting. A chaotic battle in Un'Goro Crater involving one warrior diving headlong into the depths of the Slithering Scar, heedless to the obvious danger. Yet another tale of lone suicidal belligerence would not have been worth your effort, but then there was the word of an Alliance attack on the Crossroads, during which that same warrior showed great tactical capacity and patience in his assessment of the situation, striking with great precision and strength when the time was right in order to spearhead the repulsion of the invaders. Then came the recollection of a young Orc Shaman, whose difficulty in obtaining coin was alleviated by that same Tauren warrior who, hearing the Shaman's anguished mutterings, slipped five gold pieces into his pack before mounting his kodo and riding off without seeking recompense or praise for his benevolence. There were more whispers on the wind, some telling of the capacity for great rage and recklessness, some telling of an overwhelming drive for unfocused vengeance, some telling of acts of great heroism, some even telling of introspective pursuits... the disparity in each tale merited further investigation to find out which was true.

You had to know. The request was sent, the reply received, and now is the time.

There comes to you on the night air the faint sound of approaching steps, and you squint, peering through the fireglow to find the source of the noise.

"Zod?"

"Aye, dat be me."

He enters the ring of firelight, and you can't help but feel a certain sense of disappointment at his fairly unremarkable appearance. His bulk blocks out a good portion of night sky, but certainly you have seen more... impressive... examples of Tauren physique. He moves with the fluid grace and deliberation common to the experienced warrior, shrugging off his heavy plate armor with an almost grateful manner, and removing the large jeweled shield and axe from their leather fastenings before taking a seat several feet to your left. His expression is neutral as he turns his gaze to yours, and it is then that you are reminded of just why it is that you have summoned him here. His face bears the scars of many battles won and lost, but it is his eyes that cause you to stare overlong, well past the point of polite interest. Deep brown they are, and in them you can see reflected an enigmatic conflict that must be raging inside, should all the stories be true...

The silence that follows stretches on, as you continue to stare, until finally Zod's rumbling voice breaks you from your reverie.

"Ya done called me here fer a reason, scribe. I got dat much from yer message, so kin ya get ta der point?  Why me?"

You shake your head as if waking, and choose your words carefully. "I have been writing tales of heroic deeds and those that perform them for as long as I can remember, Zod. In my early days I attempted to write all that I heard, but in my advancing years I have become a bit more... discerning.  These days I normally only write of the most noble deeds, the mightiest of heroes..."

He cuts you off with a raised hand, narrowing his eyes angrily as he speaks. "Don' flatter me, scribe. I bin down dat road afore, an' it gave me nothin' but trouble... besides, I be no 'mighty hero', not by a long shot... agin, I be askin' yer, why haf ya called me here??"

You raise both hands defensively, speaking quickly to calm his sudden ire. "Nonono, I mean no hollow flattery, Zod. I was going to say that your case seems to be a bit more... interesting.  Your exploits in battle don't seem to be anything I haven't heard countless times before, but I have heard other tales as well, tales that don't seem to fit any predictable pattern, and I merely wanted to find out if they were true.  If so, what in your past has served to provide the basis for such an interesting mix of unbridled violence and unabashed benevolence..."

Your words have the desired effect, and you see the anger subside as the warrior takes a long moment before speaking again. "What, me history? Ya called me here ta find out what be makin' me tick, eh?" A wan grin passes across his face. "Well, since I don' wanna be wastin' yer time an' effort by comin' here..." He turns his gaze to stare into the fire, and you pick up quill and parchment, writing quickly as he begins to speak again:

---

"Me early upbringin' be fairly ordinary. I wuz born inta der Stonehoof Tribe afore der time o' da War, an' me first years I kin remember wuz unbothered by fear or worry.  Me ma', Dulcet, kep' me an' me two older brudders in line, an' me da', Zorn, wuz a Tribe warrior like his da' afore him an' his da' afore him.  Me an' me brudders wuz put inta trainin' when we came o' age, an' it wuz jest assumed dat we would take our place as Tribe warriors when der time came.  I heard tales o' da corruption an' treachery o' da Centaur race, an' saw da results o' skirmish after skirmish wit' dem dat would attack da Tauren outposts.  I guess ya kin say dat me upbringin' wuz different in one way:  I never learned 'bout der Earthmother while growin' up.  Sure, She wuz mentioned in passin', but it seem ta me now dat me family, as warriors, chose ta put der faith more in der own skill an' strength, givin' honor ta Her only when it wuz necessary."

His eyes reflect a great deal of regret and sadness as he continues, "I bin thinkin' dat it may haf bin fer dat reason dey wound up dyin', me da' an' two brudders answerin' der call o' Thrall ta fight der Burnin' Legion, me stayin' behind ta finish me trainin'. I heard dey fought well, but wuz overwhelmed an' torn ta bits at da hands o' dem Deadies fightin' under da banner o' da Scourge.  Me Tribe lost nearly all o' our warriors dat day, an' dem dat returned wuz missin' fingers, hands, eyes, arms... easy pickin's fer da Centaur clans what chose dat time ta take der revenge.  We had ta flee fer our lives, takin' what we could carry an' headin' fer da safety o' Thunder Bluff in da dead o' night.  Every step we took wuz one step closer ta escapin', but da Centaur made us pay, an' pay hard.  I kin remember da smell o' fear as we moved, me strainin' me eyes inta da surroundin' darkness, holdin' me axe in shakin' hands, not seein' nothin', da sounds bein' a mixture o' hoofsteps, labored breathin', da hiss o' an occasional arrow flyin' outta da darkness, da cries o' pain an' despair. Me armsmaster fell, pierced by no less den five arrows. Me ma' fell, a single arrow suddenly juttin' from her throat. We lost nearly half our Tribe afore we saw da glow o' fires atop da Bluff come inta view, an' it wuz at dat point me mind clouded, an' I made a decision wit'out thinkin'."

His head bows as he continues, "I ran. I left all dat I knew behind, but lookin' back on it, what did I haf ta stay fer?  Me family wuz gone, me home wuz destroyed, me Tribe doomed ta extinction, me mind filled wit' nothin' but thoughts o' revenge...  I ran alone, an' alone I stayed fer a long while.  Da seasons dat followed blurred one inta da next, an' I became angry an' wild, reckless even.  I killed pretty much everythin' I saw durin' dat time, da local wildlife providin' me wit' food an' clothes, da occasional centaur providin' me wit' sport.  Dere wuz many battles dat I came close ta losin' me life, but me blind rage made up fer what I lacked in skill, an' me basic trainin' in herbalism an' alchemy helped ta heal me wounds.  I came inta town only ta get what supplies I needed, not speakin' ter noone an' quickly returnin' ta der wilds.  Me skills grew slowly, but I wuz still reckless an' angry all der time."

A slow smile crosses his features just then, and you are momentarily taken aback by the sudden and drastic effect this minor change has upon his appearance. A warmth seems to suffuse his words as he continues, "Den one day I wuz huntin' in der Barrens, nothin' unusual dere, 'cept fer dis day I decided ta take on a plainstrider dat looked weak, but turned out ta be anythin' but. I kin still feel da pain o' talons rakin' across me chest, da sharp hammer blows o' his beak on me head an' face, da flow o' blood down me face, me arms, me chest, me legs.  Me axe fell from me hands, an' da light faded as I fell.  I woke a couple o' hours later, ta me surprise, lyin' in a tent in der Crossroads.  I tried ter rise, but fell back, weak an' helpless ter move.  I heard a voice, den, speakin' ter me from across der room, a soft voice full o' wisdom, der voice o' Harsk.  Over da next few days he came time after time ta me side, speakin' o' honor, discipline, skill, strength... an' family."

"Family? What family did I haf left, anyway? I closed me mind at first ta what he had ta say, but as der days passed I began ter listen.  I asked questions, he gave answers.  When I wuz strong enuff, I slowly returned ta der hunt, but dis time Harsk wuz at me side, an' dere wuz somethin' different.  Me fightin' wuz no longer shrouded wit' da red tint o' rage, me blows became more precise, me kills cleaner.  I found dat I no longer wanted ter hide in da solitude I knew fer so long, an' dat I wuz lookin' forward more an' more ta havin' company by me side.  It wuz at dat time dat Harsk began speakin' agin ter me o' family, an' dis time I wuz ready ta hear it.  It turned out dat he wuz der leader o' a clan known as der Thunderhorn Warparty, a family, as he called it, dedicated ter da defense o' Mulgore an' other Horde lands.  He musta seen somethin' in me dat I never knew existed, 'cause I soon found meself part o' dat family."

His eyes mist over as he turns his gaze skyward, continuing with his tale. "Da next several seasons wuz der happiest I had known, runnin' wit' me new 'mates, listenin' ter der stories, fightin' as part o' a group, an' learnin' from der experience. It wuz den dat I learned more o' der Earthmother, mainly from me 'mate Busara, a shaman o' rare intelligence an' patience..." He chuckles, raking his fingers through his thick mane. "She'd haf ta be patient, ta put up wit' me fer so long! Anyway, I soon found dat der Earthmother be more den a faceless mistress watchin' from afar, but dat She has a hand in all dat passes, an' kin be touched by dem dat choose ter reach out ta Her.  Wit' Busara's help, I felt Her face finally turn towards me, an' me blind rage wuz finally put under control.  Not gone away fer good, mind, but kinda like me greaves, what kin be put on when needed an' put away when not.  I became less reckless durin' dat time, havin' more den meself ter think 'bout.  I grew in skill, I grew in knowledge, I grew in self."

Zod then turns his face to you, the neutral expression he had affected during that last missive darkening ominously.

"I found out den dat good things don' always last... an' dat I had not fully escaped me darker nature."

"I dunno why der Warparty came ta da end it did, but dere wuz rumblings on der horizon, like a gatherin' storm, givin' me plenty o' warnin'. I jes’ chose ta ignore dem, not wantin' ta admit dat me family wuz not meant ter last.  Harsk would disappear fer days, an' den upon his return, appear sullen an' morose.  Distance grew between 'mates, an' der winds no longer carried as many voices as afore.  Den came da blow dat shattered me sense o' well-bein' an' broke me heart:  Harsk tol' us dat he wuz disbandin' der Warparty.  No reason wuz given, tho' we asked him 'til our voices got hoarse.  Thinkin' back on it now, I kin see dat Harsk wuz feelin' der pressure o' leadership, an' tho' dat bin somethin' he chose fer himself, I don' think dat he wuz up ta der task over da long seasons ter follow.  His pride could not let him ask fer help, tho', an' he chose der easy way out fer him rather den passin' his mantle ta another willin' ter take it. Dis one time he allowed his weakness ter show, an' it wound up destroyin' der Thunderhorn Warparty fer good."

Tears fill his eyes as the memories wash over him, the sadness of his loss coming back in harsh reality all over again.

"I found meself alone agin, wanderin' der wilds an' huntin' whatever crossed me path. Me experience wit' me family had changed me, tho', an' I felt a great emptiness where me 'mates once wuz.  I would return ta town fer tradin' purposes, but dis time rather den finishin' me business quickly an' leavin' soon after, I would find meself standin' in der auction house or der bank, lettin' da voices o' der crowd roll over me, feelin' a strong urge ta join wit' da flow, jes' waitin' fer someone ter reach out an' beckon me in.  I entered empty, an' I left emptier. Until one day..."

He trails off, and suddenly his face contorts in a sudden bout of rage, teeth baring, eyes flashing, as a deep growl rumbles in his chest. You scramble backwards in surprise several feet until you realize that his anger is not directed at you, but rather at the memory that boils to the surface and rushes suddenly from between his clenched teeth.

"One day I wuz in Orgrimmar jes' mindin' me business when a deadie walked up ta me an' started layin' on der flattery. Tol' me dat I wuz smart, an' strong, an' powerful, an' other things like dat...  I shoulda seen right through it, I shoulda bin able ta walk away, I shoulda KNOWN..." He trails off, pounding his fist into the ground for emphasis, then turns his gaze to yours again. "Dis tale be one I haf tol' many times afore, each time hopin' dat it kin ease der shame lil' by lil', Earthmother be willin'. I got a feelin', tho', dat it be somethin' I gotta carry wit' me 'til me dyin' day, an' so long as I never make der same mistake agin, so be it."

"Dat deadie took me ta a place more suitable fer talkin', an' began speakin' 'bout nelfs. *cuts you off with a raised hand* Don' ask me his name, 'cause I swore it would never pass me lips agin, cursed as it be!  Like I said, I shoulda stopped him long afore dat, but jes’ havin' someone talk ta me agin like I wuz worth somethin' kep' me quiet.  He tol' me dat da nelfs wuz evil, dat dey wuz da reason fer da constant Alliance raids, dat dey killed fer fun, an' dat da only way ter stop dem wuz ta kill every nelf, everywhere.  *shakes his head sadly* Da Earthmother tried ta speak ta me den, tried ta show me da truth, but I wuz only listenin' ter one voice, hopin' dat voice would end me loneliness fer good.  I agreed ta join his cause, an' quickly found meself in charge o' five new recruits on der way ta Ashenvale Forest on a mission o' death."

Tears begin leaking from his eyes, reflecting the horror and shame so clearly apparent in his words and tone, "We came ta Silverwind Refuge, an' as we approached dere came upon der winds da sound o' nelf laughter, clear on da night air. Instead o' givin' me reason ta pause, dat sound filled me wit' rage, so clouded wuz me judgement.  I rushed in, blood boilin', an' dint stop swingin' me axe 'til every nelf inside der lodge wuz lyin' dead in growin' pools o' blood.  At dat time, I came back ta me senses, an' looked at what I done.  Lookin' at what wuz left o' da males wuz bad enuff, but here an' dere lay da still bodies o' females what never done nothin' ter anyone, an' more horrifyin' still wuz da smaller forms o' children, ripped from der mother's arms an' hacked ta pieces..." He trails off, unable to continue for a long moment. Finally he wipes his eyes, clears his throat and continues.

"When I realized der extent o' me crime, I made a decision. I gathered me wits an' me charges, an' led 'em out o' da forest back ta Orgrimmar.  Once dey wuz safely back inside der walls, I quit dat misguided crusade, determined ta return ta da wilds an' find safety in solitude agin.  But dere wuz somethin' different dis time... I tried ta speak wit' der Earthmother fer guidance an' solace, but She had turned Her face from me in despair.  I be thinkin' dat wuz when I found meself at me lowest, havin' known how far I could reach, but findin' meself truly alone fer da first time in many, many seasons.  Fer some time, I gave in ta self-pity an' remorse, pleading wit' der Earthmother ta speak ta me agin, falling back on me old recklessness an' rage when no answer wuz comin'.  It took me a bit o' time ta realize what I needed ter do, but da thought finally exploded in me brain like a gnoome firework:  I had ta prove meself all over agin. From dat point on, everythin' I did, I did wit' der Earthmother in mind. Me blind rage eased agin, I fought wit' purpose, I praised Her name wit' every swing o' me axe. Another season passed, 'til finally I felt Her presence agin, an' fell ta me knees in thanks. At dat moment o' me redemption, a name came ta me: Ruarc."

His face suddenly lights up at the recollection, the words coming easier from his mouth, "Harsk had spoken dat name ta me afore da Warparty broke, but fer some reason I had not thought dat ta be important. Now wit' da Earthmother speakin' clearly ta me agin, da name came back, an' I took it fer a sign... a call fer action.  I called across der winds, an' Ruarc answered, da voice dat came ta me gruff, but full o' wisdom, speakin' o' honor, discipline, skill, strength... an' family."

---

Zod stands and stretches, joints creaking from disuse during the long tale. He speaks to you some final words as he straps on his plate armor and prepares to depart, "I don' mean ta make it sound like da Tears be some kinda substitute fer da Warparty. Lookin' back now, it be obvious dat der Earthmother meant me ta be a Tear from der very start, but me stubborn nature forced Her ta get me here lil' by lil'.  Every day dat goes by, I thank Her fer da life She has given me, da strength She provides, da guidance She offers, an' da family She found fer me.  It may haf taken me some time ter realize where I belong..." He grins broadly, reflecting briefly a strong sense of inner peace and happiness, then turns to leave, passing one parting comment as he walks away:

"...but I kin be kinda thick dat way."

You sit for some time after Zod has departed, scribbling furiously to record his final words, then drop the quill and gaze upward into the night sky, rubbing your aching hand. As you read through what you have just written, you finally begin to see the pattern, and how it fits with all that you have heard of this unremarkable, yet remarkable Tauren warrior...

...and now you understand.