[Movan] Clawhoof

Movan walked down the ramp of Grom'gol's zeppelin tower, his features impassive as he contemplated the recent events. His chief and mate had fallen, and it caused great turmoil in his mind. He had tucked away his tabard inside his pack, as he could not bear to watch his mirrored image whenever he passed a body of water, and he often sought the soothing influence of the water spirits as of late. As he descended into the outpost, his gaze trailed to the beach where he had met them, and how they had enraptured his heart from the beginning. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the memories to fill his mind, and then cast them aside. He did not come here to wallow in self-pity or to remember his former leader, for he'd have a lifetime to do so.

Instead, he turned to the jungles. There is something he must do, and it should be done as soon as possible. He allowed himself to become an ethereal ghost wolf, and bounded off to the depths of the jungle, and into the places old tigers made their territory. He searched for one that would challenge him, a tiger of unnusual power and spirit, tempered by the wisdom of the years lacking in the younger animals. The elder tigers, however, avoided him. Many had deep scars from past conflicts, and even more had their teeth broken from a lifetime of delivering crippling bites. As venerable and wise as they were, their spirits did not have the fire he was searching. And so he strode on, and he did so until the day came to an end, and he was ready to give up for the day.

That was when it appeared. An old tiger pounced upon the shaman, catching him completely off-guard. Movan yelped as it's fangs tore into his abdomen, and he quickly returned to his original form. He grabbed the tiger by the nape, and tried to yank it out of his back, but it had dug his fangs deep into the tauren's flesh. Anger flared inside him, and he used it to shape a lightning shield around him. Discouraged by the electric current running through it's muzzle, the tiger leapt off, and held it's ground, roaring fiercely at it's game. Only then Movan had a good look at the animal before him. An old tiger, he could gather that much. His many scars told tales of survival against all odds, and the fire in his eyes mirrored an undomitable spirit. The animal Movan was looking for. The shaman drew his weapons, and charged at the old tiger, hammering at him with his mace, which the tiger avoided, and nimbly leapt to the face of his attacker, claw and fang threatening to tear out Movan's face. The tauren stepped back, and rammed his axe into the tiger's belly, letting the flametongue burn what metal could not damage. It worked to discourage the tiger once again, but only for a short while, as it circled Movan, and made ready to pounce again.

His prey, or hunter, had given as good as he had received, and Movan squinted as an blood ran from a wound in his forehead to his eyes. This time he waited, and as the animal pounced upon him again, Movan called upon the power of the spirits, and let his arms swing of their own accord with a startling speed, his mace cracking the chest of the tiger, and his axe hacking at his neck. The animal was defeated, and Movan summoned an earthshock, to deliver the mercy blow. He looked at the battered form for a moment, holding back the guilt and regret of slaying the proud beast. However, it's sacrifice was not in vain... He would make sure it was not.

He crouched down, and took the tiger's paw, inspecting his bloodied claws. Though the years had not been kind, they were remarkably sharp and strong. He smiled, and took a knife from his belt, carefully parting the claws from it's former owner. He took the claws from both hind and front legs, and a string of sinew from one of the powerful limbs. He set to work on carving a hole on each of the claws, and strung them together with the sinew. And finally, he pleaded to the animal's spirit to bless it with his strength of body and soul. And as he put the charm around his neck, he felt that his prayer had not gone unheard, and he felt the melancholy in his heart wash away. As he called upon the fire element to burn the corpse, the surname he had been looking for flashed on his mind.

Clawhoof.