Ironhorn Tribe

The reclusive ironhorn have not been seen for over thirty years, long before the Orcs whom they call the Green Skins landed in Kalimdor and aided Cairn in dealing with the Centaur threat. Now, as Kalimdor stirs to rise against Garrosh Hellscream, Tyrant Warchief of the True Horde, the Ironhorn Tribe leaves the safety of it's isolation in the northern Thousand Needles to prevent further atrocities like those at Cliffwalker Post. Led by Chieftain Hurong Ironhorn, son of Durong Ironhorn, the Ironhorn have made a pact with several other tribes, uniting together under the Brokenhorn Band to ensure the survival of Shu'halo culture.

Return from Isolation - Guided by the Earthmother
The sun set behind the jagged face of the Southern Barren Mountains. The rocky towering red hued mesa’s, almost always under the beating sun, began to cool as afternoon turned to dusk. Upon the northernmost mesa, built alongside the mountains of the Southern Barrens was Ironhorn Retreat; Overlooking what was once Splithoof Crag, west of Dustwallow and just south of the Razorfen Downs. Home of Tribe Ironhorn and isolated for years, shortly after the green skins landed in Kalimdor.

As An’she set behind the mountains and Mu’sha rose, Chieftain Hurong of clan Ironhorn stood upon the edge of the mesa looking out towards the needles. The once towering mesas were now simply little islands among the vast water spilling in from the Endless Sea. He huffed, blowing warm air through his pierced nose, shrugging off the cool breeze that blew over the Needles.

Seer Halfa Windtotem approached behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, looking up to his towering form. An air of concern on her face as her brow furrowed. “What bothers you Awaihilo? You seemed troubled.” The feathers on his headdress blew in the wind. Red, green and blue tinted feathers attached on the leather band.

“The Earthmother spoke to me this morning Halfa… She is deeply wounded and from the whispers I hear on the winds, war is brewing in the North. War the likes which we have never seen before.” Halfa knelt down gripping a handful of the red hued dirt, picking it up and scattering it to the wind while she spoke.

“The Earthmother speaks to us all, at one time or another in our life. She is everywhere Awaihilo, she is everything.” The dirt in her hand had been scattered by then. “What do you mean to do?”

Elder Seer Aw’ane Windtotem approached. The oldest of the Seers and life partner of Halfa walked at a steady pace towards the edge to join the two.

“Awaihilo, I sense the Earthmother has spoken to you, what is the problem?” The large Tauren leaned on his cane, his short greyed fur blowing softly in the breeze, straining his eyes on the two. Hurong turned, bowing before the older Tauren. “Elder Seer, I am glad you are here. Now more than ever, I have need of your guidance and council.”

“Tell me, Awaihilo, I will council you to the best of my abilities. Your father was a great Chieftain, and I counselled him to the best of my abilities. I will do nothing less for you.”

Hurong looked deeply troubled. His tribe had suffered enough in the past three decades with the Horse Men, Pink Skins and Pigmen. “War brews in the North. I hear the whispers on the wind. Thrall is no longer the leader of the Orcs and another… A ruthless and cruel Orc, Garrosh, has taken his place. The other Tribes have assembled under High Chieftain Bloodhoof at Razorhill. The Earthmother calls us to help stop his madness.” He dwindled on the last word, hesitant about continuing as he looked up from his hooves to the Elder Seer. “The Pink Skins sail across the Endless Sea upon crafts of iron and wood to help the High Chieftain and his allies dispose of Garrosh.” The Elder Seer looked rather troubled at the thought but what followed was unexpected.

“Awaihilo, do you not remember why we separated from High Chieftain Bloodhoof after Thrall aided us? The reason why we isolated our tribe?” The question was rhetorical, the three knew that but he paused anyways for merely a second. “So we could avoid an ensuing war and mindless slaughter at the hand of the Pink Skins that landed on the coast of the Barrens to chase down the Green Skins.” He paused, struggling to find the words, his voice full of anger and disappointment. “We suffered enough at the hands of the Pigmen and Centaur who surrounded us, and now you wish to fight alongside the very Pink Skins who slain so many of our brothers? I still have nightmares of their green clothing and curved swords, slaying woman and child, and the braves who took up arms to defend the helpless.” His voice steadied out suddenly as he looked straight at Hurong. “Awaihilo, I council you. No. I urge you to reconsider! All of this is madness, how many more Braves are we to lose? How many more fathers and sons will die?”

“Aw’ane!” Seer Halfa exclaimed, her eyes watery from what she heard her mate saying. She placed her hand on the Elder Seer’s shoulder, comforting him. “My love, the Earthmother has spoken, put aside the past. If this… Garrosh crushes the forces that move in to remove him from his seat of power, how long until his hand spreads, reaching us here? How long until he arrives on our doorstep and slays us all?” Holding his aged form, a tear ran down her nose and cheek. “I beg you Elder Seer, reconsider. You know what happened at Cliffwalker Post. You know how far this madness can go. Listen to the Earthmother.”

Aw’ane shrugged her off, staggering forward slightly as he held himself up with his cane to re-adjust his posture, Halfa almost falling down but managed to stay up. “I- I understand now Halfa.” He look back at her, realizing how rash he had acted. “If it is what the Earthmother wills, then I am bound to obey.” He looked back at the village of painted tents; the village glowed from the fires that were lit now. “If this is what is needed to ensure the safety of our children, then let it be done.” He affirmed, waiting for a response from Hurong.

“If it is agreed upon, then so be it. Seer’s…” The tone of his voice was more confident and commanding now. “Consult the Champions and inform the Braves; by the will of the Earthmother, the drums of tribe Ironhorn shall sound upon the dirt of Kalimdor once more as we march to war!” He turned, grabbing his tribal war axe, his massive form hefting it upon his back as he stepped away from the ledge. The two Seers nodded humbly, approving of their Chieftain’s decision. “I will ride to High Chieftain Bloodhoof and inform him tribe Ironhorn is at his side.”

“An’she light your path, young Chieftain.” Halfa said in a soothing motherly voice as she bowed her head. Aw’ane remained silent but respectively bowed his head as the colossal Chieftain walked by.

“We will pray to the ancestors for your safe being Awaihilo, and for all those who will march to battle.” Aw’ane added in, nodding firmly at Hurong as he turned back to offer a confident grin, acknowledging the nod. “Thank you, Elder Seer. I will send word when I arrive.” He said turning back around as he made his way to his Kodo, already packed for the ride north.

''The Ironhorn will once again be in its element. Hardened by battle, we will decimate this… ‘True Horde’ upon the fields of Durotar. For all the atrocities he has committed, Garrosh will answer.''

History
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