Website	http://www.thespiritwolves.net/
Founding date	25th August, 2008
Goal	A nomadic band of Tauren from all walks of life striving to offer a home to those who have none
Main area of operations	Kalimdor
Faction	Horde
Opposite faction attitude	Neutral
Friends/Allies	The Frozen Paw Clan Will of the Warlords Blackjaw Clan
Rivals/Enemies
Guild status	Active and recruiting
Recruiting Officer(s)	Istu, Shaylay, Akecheta, Rangoor, Seryddol

Background

The Spirit Wolves are a band of Tauren from all walks of life that are guided by the ancient spirit wolf Wanachi.  Now, the Spirit Wolves offer a home and purpose to others of their kind that have found themselves alone, lost or in need of a path to follow.

The Wolves are a mismatched bunch of souls.  From war veterens to troubled teens, ex-pillagers and basket weavers.  From the peaceful to the irritable; we have them all.

Though the harshness of the new world has created a need to be cautious, the Wolves still offer a warm atmosphere to those who pose them no threat and offer the olive branch of friendship.  With spiritual ceremonies, and every member contributing to the health and sustainability of the tribe, the Wolves offer a tribal atmosphere to the best of their ability in a world no longer friendly to the ways of old.  Despite their love of the quiet however, life usually has other plans and the Wolves often find themselves faced with conflict, war and strife.

As opportunity and supplies allow, they occasionally move from place to place, trying to bring back the old, nomadic tauren days.

Most of the tauren have a task to attend to in the tribe. While all able bodied are encouraged to fight if need be, only a selected few battle hardened individuals are chosen for Guardians. These have proven themselves to the tribe through a special feat, for which the Councillors reward them with the responsibility of protecting the tribe.

Though the Wolves have had several Chieftains, their days of a single leadership is long behind them. The Wolves now have a council  to lead the tribe, reflecting the ever changing world in which they find themselves.

The Councillors consist of Wolves who offer unique insight and skills needed for such a leadership, being it spiritual, war or utility based.  Together, they run the tribe, posing decisions and problems to the rest of the tribe during meetings in order for every Wolf to contribute in the decisions that effect their well being and direction.

When a tribesman dies, the Wolves strip him of clothes and wash him in blessed waters for several days while the shamans perform extensive prayers to help his spirit's joining with the Earth Mother. Eventually, he is put on a pyre and cremated. This way the Tauren believe they make certain the spirit cannot be abused for unlawful purposes.  Many Tauren within the Spirit Wolves will not utter the name of a deceased Tribesman until the ceremonies are complete from fear of calling the spirit to themselves and distracting them from their path to the spirit realm.

While they honour the Earth Mother much alike the rest of the Tauren, they also have great respect and piety towards Wanachi, the great spirit wolf in whose  name they were formed according to their origination legend found below. Festivities such as the Wolf Dance take place every year. They think that by wearing the skin of the wolf, its fangs and by consuming its flesh (honourably, of course) they honour Wanachi. The tribal shamans almost always wear a piece of a wolf on them.

There are many versions of this old legend, and most Spirit Wolves themselves could tell you a different version of it, but this is how the shortest version goes:

The rain poured down, sheets upon sheets of shimmering crystal-like droplets drenching his fur and pouring from his muzzle as his bloodshot, tear-strained eyes looked to the scene before him. His tribe had once been strong, but had quickly splintered following arguments. They had separated and had met their fate in doing so.

He had barely escaped the centaur attack that had taken his people, every last one of them slaughtered as he had fled in search of the other half of his tribe, to beg them to let old hatreds die and respect their fallen tribesmen and let him join with them again. Now he stood staring blankly at what was left of his blood line, their weak and rotting bodies lying in the rain, consumed by the illness that had befallen them.

He wept as he walked, hungry and with a heavy heart that longed to join his people. How stupid they had been; the arguments seemed so meaningless now.

The days passed and Ketocha walked until his hooves wore and chipped, his fur stained with the colour of the mud he walked on. They had disrupted the spirits with their selfish attitudes, and now they had paid the price for the ill fortune they had brought upon themselves.

A storm raged overhead, the sky filled with thick black clouds, the ground trembling with the roar of thunder as the bolts of lightning lit up the gloomy night. Sobbing he fell to his knees, his stomach empty and calling to death, his heart broken in his chest. “Please!” he cried, his tears merging with the rain that stung his face, the mud washing around his knees. “Just take me Mother, let me be with my people, I cannot find my way out of this storm”. Silence answered him and he let out a wail of anguish, a wolf suddenly howling along with him.

He paused, looking up to see the brown wolf looking back to him calmly. A hand slowly reached for the axe at his belt, moving to grip it firmly. His other quickly reached for a rock, throwing it with swift and desperate determination. The rock hit the wolf in the face, dazing it as it let out a yelp and falling to the floor. With the last of his strength he rushed forward with his axe raised, letting out a cry as he charged.

The wolf flinched, feeling its death approaching, but Ketocha suddenly stopped in his tracks. In the bushes behind, hiding from the rain were the eyes of four wolf pups, cowering and staring wide eyed at what he was sure they saw as a monster about to slaughter their mother.

Something in the pups gaze reminded him of himself. His parents dead at a young age, now lost with no one to guide him. Did he want to leave this world knowing that he had inflicted his pain and loneliness upon another?

He sighed and dropped his axe, falling to his knees; the wolf snarling and scrambling to jump into the bushes and out of sight.

He was lost, starving and his fur wet and cold and causing his skin to tremble. Death was so close, he was just waiting for its grip to tighten. He had thought that he had wanted to survive, right his wrongs, but the storm was so thick that the rain washed his hopes away and covered them from sight, replacing it with defeat.

A glow lit the mud beneath him, making his lowered gaze raise slightly. Close to death and unfocused, he peered up, his face highlighted by the faint white and blue glow of the ethereal creature before him.

His gaze narrowed, confused as the translucent Wolf looked back to him, its glowing gaze seeming to look straight through to the very core of his spirit. Ketocha let out a dry laugh, his expression thankful and full of awe. The Wolf nodded to him before its voice filled his ears, “Come Ketocha, it is time to walk a new path and reward your compassion”.

The bull followed the Wolf spirit obediently, his hooves slipping on the mud in his weakened state, yet still he walked, filled with strength at the sight of the spirit who had come to his aid.

As he followed, the skies cleared and An’she shone down upon him with bright new glory, drying his fur and restoring his spirit. A clearing was before him, the trees filled with fruit and the bushes abundant with berries. Ketocha was filled with euphoria, stopping to look at where the Wolf had lead him after his stomach was filled, dropping the apple from his grip in realization.

Around him was another ransacked camp, the Wolf spirit watching him solemnly. “I am Wanachi, I have guided you through the storm for you to extend your reach to others like you”.

Ketocha looked to Wanachi in confusion, “I do not understand great Wolf spirit”.

“You are not alone, tribes fall, fragment and die out. Threats are in abundance, and more will come. The world is changing, and the Shu’halo must be strong. You have seen what can happen to a broken tribe, you have experienced the hardships of having no one, being alone. Go forth brother and find others like you, build a new future based on unity and strength, and know that I will forever watch over you, my people.”

The great wolf let out an other-worldly howl, the very call of it seeming to drift towards the axe at Ketocha’s belt. The axe glowed a faint blue light, the blade seeming to sharpen that very moment.

“May your axe always carry a part of my spirit, may my call sound whenever you strike true, and good luck Ketocha, remember my words, be a leader to those who have none”.

Ketocha stood, his heart full of thanks and his body filled with pride. With a clenched fist, he hit his chest and gave a firm nod to the spirit, Wanachi bowing in return. “I will Great Spirit, and my people will honor you and carry the name of the Spirit Wolf in both their hearts and their tribe name”.

“More storms will come brother, but remember. Together you are strong, and storms always end, we must but brave it and walk through it till it clears.” With that, the Wolf turned to walk away, pausing to look back to Ketocha one last time and utter the words “Defy the storm, howl as one”.

The wolf faded in a haze of blue, leaving Ketocha in the silence of the clearing. He unhooked his axe from his belt, holding it in his grip and peering to it as he ran a hand gently over the surface. “Defy the storm, howl as one” he uttered before a smile formed on his features and finally feeling the gaze of the Earth Mother turn to him and embrace him in her warmth. ”The Spirit Wolf Tribe”

 In order to join the Wolves, you may visit our website as an application will be required.

 Those wishing to join the Wolves may seek them out.  You may either spend some time around our people, sharing our campfire and tales of our travels, or you may ask us directly.  Every new Wolf must first present themselves to a Councillor or Guardian with open palms and full honesty.  Only when satisfied of the truthfulness and sincerity of your plea will you then be offered the 'Rite of Strength'.

 Strength is individual to all of us, and the Rite will reflect your own personal strengths and how you feel you can contribute to our tribe.  Once passed, you may then walk amongst us and await for a Councillor to permit you to complete your additional Rites of Passage. 

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