The Clan attracted a pack of wolf spirits who all reflect traits and flaws that each orc might find in himself as well. These guides collectively watch over the legacy of the Clan’s founders. The Clan honors them through name, action and tribute as each individual personally sees fit. Two months annually are given to one spirit whose influence rises above the others for the span of these months
Wolf Spirit Guides
The Father and leader
Where his brother is the cold darkness of night that symbolizes the coming of an end and his mate is the embodiment of the moon and stars, Karrosh is the sun in all of its glorious, radiant warmth and light. His eyes are golden with red-ringed pupils and his paw pads glow with an ethereal warmth that leaves hot pawprints where he treads. When angered or excited smoke seems to seep from his eyes and the interior of his mouth and throat glow like hot coals- as though he’d breath fire if he could. His coat, black as pitch, seems perpetually dotted with living cinders that dapple him and leave a faint glow in his wake, even lingering briefly when he fades out of the mortal realm.
He is prideful, boastful, and arrogant. Strength ripples through him with every motion and he isn’t ashamed to show off his powerful form. Despite this, he is also an excellent judge of character and can spot the makings of great leadership in those he allows to follow him. As the spirit of chieftains, what he lacks in humbleness he makes up for in nobility and honor. He deals in forgiveness and second chances and impresses the importance of allowing your followers to make mistakes and grow to find their path, as his wayward brother has.
Karrosh is to be prayed to for foresight and success in leadership endeavors, for strength in combat, and for the patience, clarity, and understanding to solve internal or external conflicts. He is the guiding light of the pack
The Mother and protector
Direwolf matriarch of spring and fertility. Mate of Karrosh. Associated with constellations and the Pale Lady moon of Draenor. She is protective loving and merciful. Represents the renewal of life in spring. In form she is the largest of the spirit pack, with a perpetually full womb and ever swollen teats. Around her neck is a wreath of woven wildflowers, which pulse in a constant state of blooming, wilting, and regrowth.
To represent her connection to the moon, she bears a mark of white crescent between her eyes, and along her dark brown coat, runs a pattern of stars, mirroring the lost sky Draenor once saw. Her coat is thick and shaggy, and appears to glow at the ends when seen against the night sky. Shezra is a friend to all mothers and her protection is to be invoked when expecting pups. With her favor, one can expect a healthy birth and a happy child. To those at the ends of their lives, she is also a comfort, as she represents the promise that those whom winter of death approaches, the springtime of birth will follow. Shezra is also to be invoked to heal sexual dysfunction. The frigid can pray to her for pleasure and the barren can call on her for the bounty of pups
The honorable tactician and war-frenzied
The fang-ridden visage of Vi’kala can most often be seen at the front of battle, fang and claw shredding those that stand before her, the blood being spilt forcing a ruddy red tint on her paw fur and head, staining the naturally black coat beneath. Matted and twisted fur dot her back and flanks, no amount of grooming able to fix what has become of her exterior. She constantly rushes to the forefront of battle, eager to prove how far raw fury and savagery will take you in combat. She has a keen mind before fighting, easily and quickly able to plot out the most optimal routes and paths for her forces to cause the most destruction possible, relying heavily on the individual capabilities of her family to bolster the usually quick and dirty “battle plans” thought up only minutes before an assault.
Vi’kala is one to ask a blessing from with a small offering, a small bit of skin from one’s knuckle during prayer will be merit the force and rage needed to return with an entire hand to repay that which she has given. A boon to tacticians, while usually berzerkers are looked upon poorly by most, it is ironically their unpredictability that can be reliably counted on most, and thus those with her favor on their shoulders are typically kept isolated in a separate war group, a red mark on their flesh to show where their offering to Vi’kala came from, and where the payment would be taken from. Aside from fearless and reckless warriors, only true tacticians ask for her blessings, as her toll of assistance is high for those that lead others, as the payment for her assistance is often almost more than can be paid back, forcing more and more bloodshed to come out of whatever battle is being planned, even at the cost of her benefactor’s life.
The tenacious and keen
Few have seen the one known as Remahli, as even among her most ardent and unyielding supplicants there are scant times when she reveals herself as anything more than a pair of eyes in the middle of a snowstorm. For those lucky few that have seen the huntress, they say she is pure white, so white it’s hard to look at her for too long. However, others, particularly after a nighttime communing, say that her fur is somehow blacker than her father’s, almost an absence of light altogether. In truth both are correct, as her coat shifts to match whatever environment she is in, blinding white while hunting clefthoof in a blizzard, yet green as grass within the plains of Nagrand, a talbuk in her sights. Her eyes, however, never change, a warm, unearthly yellow piercing whatever land she finds herself hunting in.
Counter to her sister, she interacts often with her followers, helping them often and sometimes without being asked to. A sudden harsh wind blowing a hunter’s scent away from the quarry in the sight of his bow, or a hidden patch of herbs seen by chance after a nasty snakebite only moments ago. She is most often spoken to by hunters and guards, the former asking for assistance with their duties to feed their clan, while guards pray for the sight and wisdom to spot incoming trouble before any of their families are in danger. She is generous with her blessings as she knows what will happen if all of her followers die out or lose faith.
The wise and disciplined
Kagharn the Spiritrunner, eldest sibling and first son born from Shezra’s first litter sired by Karrosh. The constellations governed by his mother shined over each pup, but the path of stars representing wisdom illuminated brightest over a pointed and impassive mountain peak. So tall was this mountain, that it touched the sky and focused the stars intensity, leaving Kagharn’s newly opened eyes blinded red when he first interpreted sight. His fur from snout to tail tip was bleached completely white, as if all color or marking inherited from either of his parents burned out from his coat. However, despite his disabilities, this did not stop Kagharn from adapting and overcoming his unfortunate early beginnings, surpassing expectations and thriving rather than hindering his pack, though great discipline was needed in order to maintain his role among them. Kagharn’s ghostly white appearance tends to phase in vibrancy depending on the moon’s influence, with blood red eyes -- though lacking in ill intention -- boil over in wispy hot streaks, in accordance on how near the closest star is. The image of his mother and father in tandem, though a shadow follows opposite of his form with each step taken, occasionally splitting in two shades of umbra and penumbra. Every dawn and dusk, Kagharn climbs the mountain he was born beneath, to sit and observe while balancing upon its peak. As time flows around him, he turns with it, and learned to see again without relying on his eyes. Patient, aloof, and stoic, Kagharn has learned to see things through multiple angles, and is not quick to judge his followers but expects their honesty.
Kagharn’s relations with his father is dismissive, as the Alpha did not acknowledge Kagharn as his immediate heir. Vi’kala was always favored above him, but despite this he tends to get along with both of his sisters. During the winter solstice, Kagharn often convenes with his uncle, Zja’kuul, as the Spiritrunner sought him out when Karrosh neglected him. Much to Karrosh’s dismay. Kagharn’s wisdom grows as he learns and listens from differentiating views of others around him.
Kagharn’s power wanes with the time of day, as one who can pass through the veil during dawn and dusk and walk the mortal realm. He acts as a guide to his followers who call upon him and ask for clarity when the stars are clouded and the light no longer reveals a path to the lost. Kagharn’s most loyal will retread the paw prints of the wolf, climbing to great heights to sit and see how the white wolf sees, testing mind, body and spirit through great acts of discipline. They paint their skin white with streaks of pigment ritualistically. Some even paint under their eyes with blood over the use of red dyes.
The harbinger of shadow and longevity
“Karrosh is the leader, many tales talk about him. We were once good siblings, like any other family, our voices were heard, our pack strong. But his stern leadership and rules were never meant to be followed by me. I am Zjak’uul, harbinger of shadow and longevity. I served and stood with my brother since I was born. His command kept us alive, however, he didn’t want to evolve. If I had the leadership, we would become stronger, we would be… invincible.
The day had come. Karrosh, unwilling to hear me, only had ears for Shezra. Our pack, stuck in mediocrity was screaming for a rebellion.
Before Shezra’s eyes, and with the rest of the pack as a witness, I challenged him to a duel for the leadership.Karrosh’s teeth and claws were powerful, but not fast enough to reach me.
What a naive wolf I was. Nobody can dodge forever, I never stood a chance, the duel was lost before it started. I was meant to die that day. For my thirst of power, and the need of improving the pack, I earned a new kind of reward. He took my left eye, but never killed me.
The forest got chiller, burning in the coldness of the death, I plunged into something that wasn’t of this world, it was.. Between two worlds.
Time had passed and the burning cold had gone. I stood up, thinking that I was dead. Half of my head, my paws had exposed bones, my left eye, hollow, yet I was still...there.
I earned the power of jumping between the two worlds, to hide in one or another. To see… what nobody else can see, judge and kill those who are found guilty.
I returned, not to serve my brother anymore, but to watch them from the shadows. He can’t kill me now, but there’s no hatred. He isn’t guilty, and his mercy won’t be forgotten.”