Unfinished = Real name Harutt Dawnstrider.
A quietly spoken Tauren who seems to spend too much time thinking rather than speaking.
Race and ClassEdit
Miner & Blacksmith
My birthname is Harutt Dawnstrider, this at the tender age of twelve summers, I changed to Unfinished in order to never let me forget my role upon the land of Kalimdor.
The first memories of my youth in the safe confines of the Mesa were of my father and I tracking upon the great grassy plains. He was wonderful. Strong, eloquent, wise and dear to the needs of me and my sister as well as his mate: my mother. Many memories I have of the two of us together: I remember when he first pointed out the spirits that lived in the land, the trees and water. He and my mother helped me understand what we Tauren hold dear, what Earthmother has to offer us all. My mother made me spend a lot of time with our grandmother, Meela, in the Mesa and with her I learned the way of the Shaman. My sister, who had a great affinity for my mother, followed her footsteps and trained with Gart Mistrunner. She was many summers older than me and left to visit a distant relative in Lunarglade long before the tragedy that struck us, did. I was still only a young cub when events that were to shape my life occurred. The three of us: mother, father and I were out in the farthest plains (I was being shown where many of our ancestors had fought for their rite of passage in the Great Hunt). The moon had settled upon us and the stars gradually awoke. I can clearly remember my mother sharing with me the story of Jhwana Bloodhoof, a great constellation shaped like a pair of horns, the great grandfather of Cairne Bloodhoof himself, when my father sensed something: a presence in the land that should not have been there. Fear coursed through my blood, but like my parents, I was alert and touched the land. Something was certainly creeping down from the mountains in front of us and each footstep it trod pained the Earthmother. My father quickly picked me up and placed me within an old stone tomb nearby. He told me to never move no matter what I saw and to make no sounds. It was then that my eyes fell on the malefic creature. I would come to know him as Banehollow; leader of the Jaedener. He was a great winged demon, who towered over my father: a Tauren who I thought unconquerable, and with his great sword he set upon my parents. My mother and father, however, we prepared. The Earthmother heard their cries and gave them strength to fight with their staffs and totems. My father stood head to head with the monster whose grey skin seemed to glow in the firelight. The fight was terrible to watch, but my father was winning. With my mother calling on the Earthmother’s spirits to protect him and heal him, gradually my father began to overpower the demon lord. It was then, in his moment of impending defeat that Lord Banehollow called upon his minions. And they came, tens of them. Crafted from green stone and filled with a sickening yellow mist, I watched them, with tears in my eyes, as they spawned out of a purple whirlpool in front of me. My dear mother did now know what had hit her before they were upon her. They crushed her easily and she fell. A deep laugh filled the whole of Mulgore that night as Banehollow watched my father’s look of despair and grief of which I still cannot think to understand. But then, my father’s eyes caught mine. He must have seen such fear in them, such loss that a great rage overcame him. He fought with a fury that I have seen in the eyes of only one other. He overpowered the Infernals that had been summoned and fought head on with Banehollow. The sword the demon used, however, was so strong, plated with molten steel that my father’s staff snapped and a great explosion shook the land as the energies that had been stored in it, broke free. I was blinded by the light and when I opened my eyes once more and all sound returned to my ears I looked out into the night and saw only the crumpled forms of my parents lying next to each other. Upon my mother I wept, begging her eyes to open, for a hint of breath to escape her, but there was nothing. My heart jumped, however, when I saw the body of my father move slightly: he had not perished! By dawn’s-light he had regained his senses and held me close to him, his eyes, I could feel, upon the body of his mate. Silently, he picked her up and the two of us, no longer three, made our way home. The village was torn by the news of my mother’s death. She was a druid of great love and care for all its members. My father was, however, inconsolable. He had changed in that one moment when her body was left to face the skies accompanied only by her staff and beads. It was as if a glassy barrier had closed down upon his sight, for when I looked at him now I saw only a need to understand: although what, I do not know.
I was only nine summers old when father took off and left me in the care of my grandmother. After the death of my mother, my father strengthened his friendship Bronk Stoolrage, the village blacksmith. The two of them discussed the nature of stone and metal, whilst crafting weapons and shields for our brethren. My grandmother told me that my father was obsessed with crafting a weapon strong enough to take down Lord Banehollow once and for all and that the wooden staff that he had used had been the cause of his defeat. He needed to understand the nature of stone, how it worked, how it could be changed and nurtured; how it could open to reveal its metals and how those metals could be crafted into weapons. For years he worked at the forge like a Tauren possessed. I began to see less and less of him and spent more time training for the Great Hunt. It was on the very night of the Great Hunt that he left me. I returned victorious and had undertaken the rite of passage many years before I should have. The note was a long one and one that opened old wounds in me.It spoke about how he felt he had failed me and my sister and most importantly, my mother. How he had set off to explore the world, to search out minerals and metals that would aid him to craft the greatest weapon all Kalimdor had seen, and how when that weapon was crafted by his hands, he would smash the skull of Banehollow and all his kind.
I wanted to leave. I wanted to chase him right away, but the village elders taught me to be patient; that my work here was still unfinished. That I still had much to learn, and so I stayed. I learned to skin and I learned the way of the totem. I vowed that when I was wise enough, I too would learn to work with stone and metal. I too would craft the greatest weapon for my father, for my sister: for my mother.
I journey now to find my father. To follow his footsteps so that together we can destroy Banehollow. When I find him, I will tell him to hurt no more. I love him dearly and always will. No Tauren should bear such guilt and sorrow. I shall find him.
Many years have now passed since I set off in search of my father and the killer of my mother. I think I had my father’s fervor for learning as I picked up the art of skinning and leatherworking so quickly. It was with these skills that I managed to find my way into a new family: The Unspeakable Villains. I met with one of their commanders, a troll of great hunting prowess who, upon noting my leatherworking skills, introduced me to the head of the family. Both shall name anonymous as I have sworn allegiance and in so doing, all things must be kept secret. I had been hired to make clothing and armour packs for the family’s members and in return, our leader would fund me with gold in order for me to sweep across the land of Kalimdor, searching for signs of my father’s journey (and in return informing her of anything that would be valuable to the family). I owe her much for this.
* * * *
I have seen many places now, places of which I have no intention to return to, for the power that lies there stops the beat of even the strongest heart. I have seen places where all races are united under one cause; where there is no bitter rivalry. Such sights have given me hope for the future of our land. Then, finally, I came to a shore far south off the tips of Tanaris and there I found signs of my father’s presence.
Among the kayaks that had been left upon the shore I found a letter written to me. It was from my father. In it he told me to enter his home upon the beach and understand the murals that lay within. This I did and what I saw brought the cold pang of fear into my heart. It spoke of a great tentacled eye within the desert of Silithus. How he had found out that the greatest of weapons was said to be hidden within the depths of the fabled A’qiri empire. Worse. How the secret to this great weapon was said to be held within the ruins of Ahn’Qiraj itself.
I knew then that it was time for me to understand the rocks and minerals that covered the Earthmother’s skin. To take up the same skill that had consumed my father so many years ago. Upon arriving home at Thunder Bluff, I spoke to the Stonehoofs and they began training me in how to mine and forage from the land’s crust. How to bend its metals and minerals to my will. With their guidance and the tutorage I have become a master Smith as well, just like my father. I am now ready.
With my new family, I have begun to find the strength and balance of mind to enter the ruins of Ahn’Qiraj. For now, I shall work for Cenarius and try to uncover this ancient desert-land’s secret. I shall bide my time until all my family can stand at my side and delve into the ancient city’s secrets. I only hope that I am not too late to find my father.