Glassclaw
04-24-2009, 02:27 AM
(Since everyone thinks Glassclaw is the most power hungry, corrupted thing since sliced felbread, I decided to post on how Glassclaw became...the Druid, and how some of those traits that he gained stayed with him in his rebirth!)
A simple life. That's all he asked for, and that's all he received.
Ragar Glassclaw was a leatherworker and skinner for a fishing village on the coast of Ashenvale. He took in animals that were either injured or sickly, did his best to painlessly end their suffering, and then use the leather and skins to help with buildings, armors, and weapons. It wasn't the most...pleasant of jobs for a Night Elf, but it needed done.
The village wasn't necessarily big; it had a few travelers come by to rest and trade, but for the most part, it was completely self-sufficient. The fish provided a constant supply of food, there were a group of well-trained Sentinels residing there...all was well.
Ragar would spend his off time relaxing by the ocean, just to take in the vast expanse of it. It was...beautiful to him. So clean and clear of strife...waves going along peacefully with each other. Other times, he would spend time ogling the Sentinels and the other women of the village. He found himself on the bladed-edge of a glaive all too often due to his actions, but he always managed to talk his way out of it with his nervous and shy reactions.
He was content to be part of this fishing village...and his leatherworking was second to none. He made a decent income, and was happy...until the Third War began.
Green meteors filled the sky, exploding into the forest on impact, toppling so many of their beautiful trees down. Towering infernals raised from the craters, their terrifying visage filled with an unholy flame. Various demons of all shapes and sizes; succubi, felguards and their hounds...and Doomguards, even. An all-out assault was beginning...and this fishing village was the starting point.
For the first time in his life, Ragar noticed that the waves were...clashing with one another, filled with chaos, not willing to let the other waves through. The Sentinels fought hard and well, but they were no match for the Burning Legion. All of the townsfolk were either slain on sight, should they of tried to resist, or captured and enslaved...and who knows what else.
Ragar wasn't trained with weapons...all he had was his skinning knife, and he was about to rush forth into battle with the Burning Legion. He knew he would die, but he wasn't going to let his friends and...his only true family...die in vain.
"Your time to fight...is not now, Glassclaw. You know you won't win. You'll have your ultimate revenge against the Burning Legion one day, but for now...you must retreat, and train." A voice was speaking in his head...he would look around, but see no one. The army of the Legion was slowly heading his way...taking his knife with him, he would flee into the relative safety of the forest.
He wasn't very forgiving of himself. He would lay curses upon curses on himself, leaving his townspeople to die, and helpless to save them. If only he was trained to be a fighter instead of a skinner...he could of made a difference.
The voice, apparently able to read his thoughts, said to him; "It's easy to blame yourself...and to give up at that. However, with your escape, you have a chance to heal the wounds that the land has received today. You will train in an art that is forgotten by many. You must live in the wilds, alone. To survive, you must be like an animal. There will be no luxuries given to you...everything you need, you need to earn. Consider this a trial for you. Should I feel that you pass, we will speak again... " He would try to call out to the invisible voice, but he was unable to get an response...he had no idea what it was. It was a soft, gentle voice...but genderless.
He realized that he needed a few things right off the bat. Shelter, food, and a steady supply of water. For shelter, he searched for a weaker tree that he could cut into. He couldn't cut the trees down with his knife, nor could he skin enough animals to make a hut out of it. It took him about half a day to find such a tree; an oak that was slowly dying out. He gave out a quick prayer to the tree, to forgive him for what he's about to do...but he needs it's shelter. Stabbing his knife into the hollowed trunk of the tree, he would slowly carve an passageway that he could fit under, giving him shelter in the bad weather that may follow.
Of course, this activity caused him to hunger and thirst. He needed both, and soon. He started with hunting with small game, which he couldn't do with any kind of effectiveness. His steps were too noisy and clumsy; often time scaring off the very prey he needed. In time, however, he would realize that to catch your prey, you must wait for it to make itself vunerable...then strike in one fell swoop. Don't give it another chance to escape. That, and not tripping over branches helped him as well. After killing the prey, he would skin it and, for the first time in his life, eat raw animals. It wasn't glamorous, or tasty for that matter, but it kept him going.
While there was a stream just north of his tree, the stream became tainted with the corruption of fel. He needed another means of water, or he will not last very long in this trial. While it was to be a rainy season, he couldn't keep himself going on rainwater forever. Struggling to stay on his feet, he would venture deep into the forest, well beyond his knowledge of the area. There, he would see a small lake, completely clean and pure, free of the taint of the Burning Legion. However, he wasn't alone in this place...a bear, turning around to face him, would raise up on it's hind legs, letting out a terrifying roar! Ragar knew he had to kill the bear...it didn't feel like sharing.
His instincts have grown during his trials. He was nimble, and very decisive with his strikes. He was feeling more like an animal than a skinner. Suddenly full of renewed hope, he would dash towards the bear, ducking under its mighty paws, and then swiftly moving his hand up so that the dagger went right into the bear's throat. Twisting the blade and retracting quickly, much like a claw, he would rotate around to the bear's back, and reinsert the blade directly behind it. His strikes were quick and lethal. The bear would let out a weak growl as it fell to the ground. Ragar relished in his victory, drinking the pure water and rejuvenating himself, while having enough food to last him a week due to the bear.
This is how he lived his life. Some days were better than others, and he came close to death on some occasions, but he was turning into a feral creature. His hair grew immensely long and wild, his eyes had this odd fire in them...his arms grew longer and stronger, as if they were the legs of a cat or such...he was thriving in this hostile environment
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months, years...finally, the voice came back into his head, kinder than before...
"You have done well, Glassclaw. I must say you exceeded my expectations. I will now tell you everything you missed during these last two years..."
His heart would skip a beat. He has been doing this for two years...? He could remember it just like yesterday...
"Revenge is still fresh on your mind, I see...the Burning Legion will fall, and you will not have to fight them alone. The Legion is gone from this area, but there are still traces of them throughout Kalimdor. Also...Orcs and their vile allies have marched into our lands, felling our trees for their cruel war machines. You will have to fight them as well. This is a new war...one that you WILL fight in, Druid Glassclaw. Your offical training...will begin today."
A strange portal would open where his shelter, the tree trunk, was located. He could see a building made in the Night Elfs architecture.
"Your people made a new home on a new world tree, known as Teldrassil. The old World Tree was destroyed to repel the Burning Legion at Mount Hyjal...which is why I'm impressed you managed to live this far without falling to illness or anything else. I will teleport you there. The people there will know that you are arriving to train in the ways of a Druid of the Claw. The might of bears, panthers...everything you learned here, you will learn in spades in the future...and finally seek the revenge that you are after. Go now, Glassclaw...and good luck."
Stepping through the portal, he wasn't sure what to expect of his new land...one thing is for sure though. He would grow as powerful as he can, to erase corruption from this land, and avenge all of the deaths that he couldn't prevent!
Ragar Glassclaw, the Druid, was born....
A simple life. That's all he asked for, and that's all he received.
Ragar Glassclaw was a leatherworker and skinner for a fishing village on the coast of Ashenvale. He took in animals that were either injured or sickly, did his best to painlessly end their suffering, and then use the leather and skins to help with buildings, armors, and weapons. It wasn't the most...pleasant of jobs for a Night Elf, but it needed done.
The village wasn't necessarily big; it had a few travelers come by to rest and trade, but for the most part, it was completely self-sufficient. The fish provided a constant supply of food, there were a group of well-trained Sentinels residing there...all was well.
Ragar would spend his off time relaxing by the ocean, just to take in the vast expanse of it. It was...beautiful to him. So clean and clear of strife...waves going along peacefully with each other. Other times, he would spend time ogling the Sentinels and the other women of the village. He found himself on the bladed-edge of a glaive all too often due to his actions, but he always managed to talk his way out of it with his nervous and shy reactions.
He was content to be part of this fishing village...and his leatherworking was second to none. He made a decent income, and was happy...until the Third War began.
Green meteors filled the sky, exploding into the forest on impact, toppling so many of their beautiful trees down. Towering infernals raised from the craters, their terrifying visage filled with an unholy flame. Various demons of all shapes and sizes; succubi, felguards and their hounds...and Doomguards, even. An all-out assault was beginning...and this fishing village was the starting point.
For the first time in his life, Ragar noticed that the waves were...clashing with one another, filled with chaos, not willing to let the other waves through. The Sentinels fought hard and well, but they were no match for the Burning Legion. All of the townsfolk were either slain on sight, should they of tried to resist, or captured and enslaved...and who knows what else.
Ragar wasn't trained with weapons...all he had was his skinning knife, and he was about to rush forth into battle with the Burning Legion. He knew he would die, but he wasn't going to let his friends and...his only true family...die in vain.
"Your time to fight...is not now, Glassclaw. You know you won't win. You'll have your ultimate revenge against the Burning Legion one day, but for now...you must retreat, and train." A voice was speaking in his head...he would look around, but see no one. The army of the Legion was slowly heading his way...taking his knife with him, he would flee into the relative safety of the forest.
He wasn't very forgiving of himself. He would lay curses upon curses on himself, leaving his townspeople to die, and helpless to save them. If only he was trained to be a fighter instead of a skinner...he could of made a difference.
The voice, apparently able to read his thoughts, said to him; "It's easy to blame yourself...and to give up at that. However, with your escape, you have a chance to heal the wounds that the land has received today. You will train in an art that is forgotten by many. You must live in the wilds, alone. To survive, you must be like an animal. There will be no luxuries given to you...everything you need, you need to earn. Consider this a trial for you. Should I feel that you pass, we will speak again... " He would try to call out to the invisible voice, but he was unable to get an response...he had no idea what it was. It was a soft, gentle voice...but genderless.
He realized that he needed a few things right off the bat. Shelter, food, and a steady supply of water. For shelter, he searched for a weaker tree that he could cut into. He couldn't cut the trees down with his knife, nor could he skin enough animals to make a hut out of it. It took him about half a day to find such a tree; an oak that was slowly dying out. He gave out a quick prayer to the tree, to forgive him for what he's about to do...but he needs it's shelter. Stabbing his knife into the hollowed trunk of the tree, he would slowly carve an passageway that he could fit under, giving him shelter in the bad weather that may follow.
Of course, this activity caused him to hunger and thirst. He needed both, and soon. He started with hunting with small game, which he couldn't do with any kind of effectiveness. His steps were too noisy and clumsy; often time scaring off the very prey he needed. In time, however, he would realize that to catch your prey, you must wait for it to make itself vunerable...then strike in one fell swoop. Don't give it another chance to escape. That, and not tripping over branches helped him as well. After killing the prey, he would skin it and, for the first time in his life, eat raw animals. It wasn't glamorous, or tasty for that matter, but it kept him going.
While there was a stream just north of his tree, the stream became tainted with the corruption of fel. He needed another means of water, or he will not last very long in this trial. While it was to be a rainy season, he couldn't keep himself going on rainwater forever. Struggling to stay on his feet, he would venture deep into the forest, well beyond his knowledge of the area. There, he would see a small lake, completely clean and pure, free of the taint of the Burning Legion. However, he wasn't alone in this place...a bear, turning around to face him, would raise up on it's hind legs, letting out a terrifying roar! Ragar knew he had to kill the bear...it didn't feel like sharing.
His instincts have grown during his trials. He was nimble, and very decisive with his strikes. He was feeling more like an animal than a skinner. Suddenly full of renewed hope, he would dash towards the bear, ducking under its mighty paws, and then swiftly moving his hand up so that the dagger went right into the bear's throat. Twisting the blade and retracting quickly, much like a claw, he would rotate around to the bear's back, and reinsert the blade directly behind it. His strikes were quick and lethal. The bear would let out a weak growl as it fell to the ground. Ragar relished in his victory, drinking the pure water and rejuvenating himself, while having enough food to last him a week due to the bear.
This is how he lived his life. Some days were better than others, and he came close to death on some occasions, but he was turning into a feral creature. His hair grew immensely long and wild, his eyes had this odd fire in them...his arms grew longer and stronger, as if they were the legs of a cat or such...he was thriving in this hostile environment
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months, years...finally, the voice came back into his head, kinder than before...
"You have done well, Glassclaw. I must say you exceeded my expectations. I will now tell you everything you missed during these last two years..."
His heart would skip a beat. He has been doing this for two years...? He could remember it just like yesterday...
"Revenge is still fresh on your mind, I see...the Burning Legion will fall, and you will not have to fight them alone. The Legion is gone from this area, but there are still traces of them throughout Kalimdor. Also...Orcs and their vile allies have marched into our lands, felling our trees for their cruel war machines. You will have to fight them as well. This is a new war...one that you WILL fight in, Druid Glassclaw. Your offical training...will begin today."
A strange portal would open where his shelter, the tree trunk, was located. He could see a building made in the Night Elfs architecture.
"Your people made a new home on a new world tree, known as Teldrassil. The old World Tree was destroyed to repel the Burning Legion at Mount Hyjal...which is why I'm impressed you managed to live this far without falling to illness or anything else. I will teleport you there. The people there will know that you are arriving to train in the ways of a Druid of the Claw. The might of bears, panthers...everything you learned here, you will learn in spades in the future...and finally seek the revenge that you are after. Go now, Glassclaw...and good luck."
Stepping through the portal, he wasn't sure what to expect of his new land...one thing is for sure though. He would grow as powerful as he can, to erase corruption from this land, and avenge all of the deaths that he couldn't prevent!
Ragar Glassclaw, the Druid, was born....