The old shaman bared her fangs in a devious grin to those near the fires of the story circle. The fire billowed and crackled as she spun her tail with the smoke wafting up in a dark grey cloud. "The world that once was has been broken... Shattered and crippled from corruption. The land was torn asunder and with its crying death throes we as its people were scattered and forgotten."
The smoke moved and shifted as she spoke giving life to the story that weighted heavily on all their hearts. "We move now to a new drum beat as the shifting sands of time never stop their fall. The corruption still clawing at our Mother's skin and digging deep into her flesh is the reason we are still here today. She needs our help, our skill, and our ferocity to stamp out the corruption for good. We are her weapons of war, and we will not fail her a second time..."
The Shadowhoof were once a powerful force that kept the forests of Feralas safe from corruption. However, in their fall they realized just how damaging that seclusion was when the world around them broke. Learning from their mistakes, the newly awakened Shadowhoof are now a scattered tribe that walks and trains their people to fight the forces of corruption across Azeroth.
The ground bubbled and spewed forth a disgusting ooze that Umagha was unfamiliar with, but ready. She looked to her teacher as they moved to sew the split earth back together and seal away this fissure of corrupted magma. Concentrating, the two worked in tandem to slowly weave roots across the cavern and stitch the ground like one would an open wound. It would not keep forever, but they knew that help was on the way and their efforts to stave off the spread was needed.
Tatoke crashed through the camp of cultists with a crazed laugh as he lowered his head fully utilizing his horns. A flash from the side as Awanako's arrow landed its mark to the neck of a demon. The two were dancers in the heat of battle, spinning to keep each other's back covered before a loud screech came from above. The flaming hippogryph deposited their rider with a ground shaking crash as Shikoba tore through the infernal with blazing molten claws and a lightening strike from above.
Shadowhoof packs are made of anywhere from two to five members that work as a team to destroy corruption wherever they find it. Training is part of the morning routine as battle has become their way of life. When a team is not fighting or stalking prey, they are keeping tabs on each other through the silent way and making sure that their exploits or locations are known to others in the tribe.
Kurshaw's ear twitched as she stood silent and listened into the winds. Closing her eyes, she smiled and nodded before turning to her companion. "The others have found the demon stalking through Winterspring, finally putting to rest the howling gorge demon. We can walk easy knowing that the winterlands of Kalimdor are safe once again."
The others following the two tauren looked between each other with confused looks and frowns. How could they know that? Regardless they continued their journey through the Plaguelands.
The Shadowhoof are no long a tribe that stays together in a single location. Feralas, while being their ancestral home and base of operations, is no longer the limit to their reach. Corruption breeds everywhere on Azeroth, and the Sahdowhoof have realized that they can no longer focus specifically on one area.
OH NO, we wouldn't change this one! This pic has so much meaning to a lot of us <3
(hey kursh, if you change the banner, make sure to save it cuz that's from the day I first met y'all and has meaning to me)