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Mulkanus Cloudchaser
Mulkanus
OOC Game Stats
Game Name Mulkanus
Faction Horde
Race Tauren
Gender Male
Class Druid
Guild Tears of Draenor
Professions Herbalism and Alchemy
IC Info
Nicknames Mulk, Mulkie
Title Champion
Age 28
Height 9'6"
Hair Black mane and beard, red fur
Eyes Green
Skin Dark

Physical DescriptionEdit

  • Garments/Armor: Mulk dresses in mismatched leathers commonly, with seemingly no eye towards which colors go together and which clash. At rest, he tends to go with a simple shirt and a kilt, often times with a rumpled looking hat on his head.
  • Other:

PersonalityEdit

  • Mulk is quiet spoken and kindly in his Tauren form, tending to hold his peace during conversations when not being addressed directly. In his preferred form as a lion, he is far more playful, known to pounce on the unwary and to take great pleasure in leaping over people whilst they sit around a fire.

HistoryEdit

Mulkanus sits and watches the flames leap and twist on the bonfire.

Who am I you ask?

'Tis a hard question. I'm not sure I myself know the full answer.

My earliest memories are of a hurried packing in the night, warcries booming in the distance, fire erupting, violating the darkness, and a shout: "Someone grab Mulkanus!"

I've spoken with those I remember from my childhood. Noone knows where I came from. In the count taken after a centaur raid, I appeared from nowhere, alone, friendless and orphaned. My clan and kin are lost forever. My name was taken from letters stitched into a blanket I bore on the day I was found.

I have been sheltered by most of the clans who now reside at Thunder Bluff at one time or another. And though I am known, I am not family. Clan is a special thing among the Shu'halo. Yet I have none.

Let me not sound too much the judge. I was never treated poorly. I have now and have always had clothes and a roof, temporary or permanent, and I have never gone long in hunger and want, yet the clan housing I kept to was never home. The calves with whom I grew up were not my sisters and brothers; we all knew it and never became close. I was different than they, not delighting so much in the hunt or battle, but rather in the stories and wisdom of the clan elders.

He stares into the bonfire and idly tosses a few twigs into it.

My surname? Cloudchaser. A verbal backhand from the Chief Hunter that I have taken as my own. When I would hunt, I on occasion lost myself in the contemplation of the thing hunted; the stately walk of the humble deer, the thundering pace of the giant kodo, the graceful saunter and stalk of the great cats. I oft returned grinning broadly with empty bags, and in frustration he so named me, a seeker of the winds rather than a hunter for the clan.

'Twas a relief to both my then current household and to myself when the tribal shaman, he called Spiritwalker and known by no other name, took me into his tutelage. It was he that raised me up, gave me knowledge and wisdom, trained me, disciplined me as a father should. I hope I have not failed him.

It was his thought I should replace him when he went to his long rest, and in that I did fail. I cannot hear or speak to the spirits, or garner their wisdom and history. Yet I think it better that I did fail, and in such failure found the calling of the Earthmother. I pray that the Earthmother provide him a successor soon. We all will be less when he passes, yet he is tired and ancient of days, and deserves to rest.

He drifts into silence at this, then starts at another question

Sorry, I walked the path of memory for a moment.

When it became clear to the Elder Spiritwalker that I could not know the shamanic powers and responsibilities he arranged for me to meet an Elder of the druidic clan of Runetotems. We journeyed long in the wilds together. I've seen the sun set and rise in many places, I witnessed the birth of beasts, their daily hunts and resting, I visited the roots of mountains and the wellsprings of rivers. In all of it I felt the pull on my heart from the beauty, the majesty, the order of it all...

Hm?

Yes I was called by the Earthmother. I dreamed one night. Let me see...

He rummages in his bag for a moment and pulls out a weather-beaten book, unlocks the cover and flips through pages until he reaches a certain one

These are my memoirs. Here is what I wrote concerning the night I received my calling.

I saw a high mountain I know not. Massive numbers of humans, orcs, elves, all the races cloaked its forested slopes. I also saw the world itself rising up in battle fever, the animals, the trees, even the rocks it seemed to me snarled in anger. A great and terrible army full of horrific apparitions, demonic giants and other horrors rose in opposition. I cried aloud in dismay as I saw the massed armies of the races, and of the world itself be swept aside by the seething rage of the onslaught. I heard a deep, vast, whispered voice that, despite its seeming quiet overrode all that was happening. "Who will fight for us? Who will defend us?" it called. I wanted to scream that I would, but I hesitated because of the fury of the battle before me. As I hesitated, I saw the armies of the Earthmother begin to fail, and I woke up sweating and shaking.

I slept no more that night. When dawn broke I went in to Spiritwalker and related my dream to him. He nodded his head and said "It confirms what I already thought, Mulkanus. The Earthmother has chosen you. You are to enter training as a druid, immediately."

"You are sure, Elder?" I asked.

"There can be no other meaning, and in truth I was about to send you away for that very purpose." He stopped, and for the first time since I had met him a broad grin lit up his face. "Well done, Mulkanus! Your path is set before you, and you know it. You will do well." He knelt and placed his hands over me, blessing me and the path I walk. "Go. Your path awaits you."

He takes back the book and stuffs it in his largest bag

I have walked this path ever since. I pray that I walk it well, to honor my Elders and my clan.

Mulk gets up to add wood to the fire, considering the next question

Yes I have a clan now. The Tears of Draenor.

He scrubs the mud from his once-red tabard in a partially successful effort to display the sign of the Tears

This is their symbol, which I bear always. Even before I knew of them, they befriended me, guarded me and guided me. I stand forever in the debt of their friendship, given freely and generously. But that is a story for another time.

What now? I don't know. And that's OK. *smiles* I don't walk alone anymore, and that is enough.

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