Running Horn

Background:
Running Horn is a minotaur who grew up in the Qincaoyang region. He was small for his size, a runt of the pack if you will, and for this reason he was abandoned in the mountains and left to die. In the Far East Steppes a blood war was underway between the gnoll tribes and the minotaurs. It was for this reason that his father, unknown to him at this time, decided it was better to have no son at all than to have a crippled one. This small dogie, abandoned in the high mountain, surely had no chance of survival on his own.

However this is not how the tale of Running Horn ends, but the story of how it begins. He was discovered by a human named Claudius, a monk from a nearby monastery hidden in the mountains. Now, humes are considered to be weak, pathetic beings to the locals and are hunted for game. Why Cladius decided to save this small dogie will never be known but upon seeing this crying naked beast on the ground he decided to call him his own. Cladius stood roughly 6 feet off the ground and weighed 210lbs but he was determined to carry this 1 ft tall 50lb baby up the side of a mountain.

Upon entrance to the monastery, Temple of the Righteous One, there was great worry over what Cladius had done. They had brought the child of their enemy to their doorstep. If the minotaurs discovered the dogie was amiss then using their uncanny tracking they would be able to find their way back to them. Also, what if they baby through a tantrum? Even though its horns were small they were still sharp enough to puncture skin. However the Khenpo decided it would be unjust to their code to turn away such a defenseless being. Instead they would raise him as their own and hopefully, raise him to be one of them. So Cladius was assigned to watch over him and to care for the dogie; which he agreed to regardless of the risk.

Early years were difficult for Running Horn because even though he was now a member of the monastery, he would always be an outsider. At the age of four he was still small for his age, standing only 3 feet tall and weighing 340lbs. The monks began to realize that he was learning slower than most other minotaurs because he was not being raised by his elders. This led to him having a lower intelligence than most his age however he was much more wise. He was clearly able to distinguish between right and wrong, occasionally getting into mishaps due to his clumsiness and his unnatural strength for being so young. However it was at this age he truly began to admire Cladius as a father figure. They trained every day in the courtyard, mastering the art of balance and zen. Running Horn had been saved from a life of war and bloodshed, and truly found inner peace.

The years went by peacefully for the monks, hidden from the raging battles below. The monastery was situated near the Khen'Dong Plains where in later years, some of the heaviest fighting would take place. The monasteries location made it difficult for the minotaurs too reach because of the cold mountaintops and the gnolls were not dexterous enough to use it as a viable scouting point. Running Horn eventually being adapted to the cold, being able to manage it better than most even though most of the time he was still wrapped in a cloak. Life was hard, but life was good.

At the age of 8, Running Horn stood five feet tall and weighed several hundred pounds. Minotaurs grow quickly due to their warlike nature and for this reason many do not live to see the age of 30. However, their true lifespan is not known. Legend tells of the first minotaur, Oloro, created by the Gods to punish those who would go against their word as existing for as long as humans have inhabited the lands. However without guidance from his tribe, Running Horn will never know the legends of his kind. Even though he was welcomed into this way of life with reluctant but open arms, part of him is beginning to wonder why he looks so different.

Running Horn was beginning to question who he was, where he came from, what was beyond the borders of the monastery. Even at a young age he was forbidden to pass beyond its walls for the blistering winds, ragged cliffs, and slippery slopes would mean his death. But curiosity began to dig its foreboding fingers into his mind, slowly corrupting the innocence of the young. In order to remain pure, he trained harder than any young monk before him. He mastered his strength and dexterity, quickly overpowering senior members. Running Horn was soon to be a prodigy of the Khenpo. Life was good.

The war was becoming more of a bloodbath during the summer that Running Horn was 13. Great Horn Shi of the Oiya Zheng clan had begin conquering nearby clans in order to unify them. His motto, translated from Giant, means "Victory Requires Sacrifice" and every ounce of his being showed it. His body was a mass of scar tissue from where he would impale himself on spears in order to get his hands on his enemies to crush their skulls. His hooves were reinforced with iron from where they had broken upon the skulls of giants. His enemies viewed him as a bloodthristy killer with a passion for killing. His allies revered him as a visionary for his people. He viewed himself as a peacekeeper. And Running Horn viewed him as, well he didn't view him at all from up in the mountaintops but he wanted to. Whispers spread through a monastery as quickly as the wind and tales of the might of Zheng spurred something deep in the very nature of of who he was.

It was June 18, a day forever imprinted in Running Horn's mind, the day he first ventured beyond the walls. The sun was hot on his skin, warming his blood and fueling his courage. He took his time, carefully maneuvering around rocks and getting his footing on the mountainside. It was a brief trip, his first taste of freedom, and it moved through his veins like a cocaine addiction. Every day he just wanted more.

Each time Running Horn went out he got a little more adventurous until one day, he went to too far. He was down on the cliffside trying to catch of a glimpse of smoke which would signal the approach of the Great Oiya Zheng. However from downwind Running Horn smelled something he never had before in his life. It was like a large sweaty animal moving just above him on the cliffs. Gnolls. Terrified of these unknown assailants Running Horn fled up the side of the mountain back to the monastery, enemies closely behind him. Arrows whizzed past him, unable to hit his agile body as he ran up the mountain with unnatural grace. His internal compass guided him far better than his eyes and he trusted his instincts heading back. Thinking he had lost the gnolls who were not as surefooted as him or used to the periolously high mountaintops, he snuck back into the monastery.

Running Horn had never encountered Gnoll scouts before so he was unaware of their tracking ability. It was not five minutes after he had arrived that he heard a gong sound high upon the monastery's peak. The sounding of the gong had never been heard before by anyone in the monastery but they all knew what it meant; they had been discovered. The monastery put up a good fight however they were no match for the gnolls weapons or the scout leader, Gaarg Thunderdeath. Lightning flashed upon the mountaintop and quickly brought death to all who stood in front of him. Eventually the gnoll scouts went down with a great cost of the monks. Most had died protecting their bretherin. The remaining monks had fled into the passages under the mountain however Running Horn was left alone with Gaarg. It was a battle he surely would lose.

Running Horn put up a fight but was eventually struck down, his body singed and one horn shattered atop his head. Once again, the tale of Running Horn was about to end. Just as the final lightning bolt came down, Cladius ran out into the courtyard and through his arms around his child. Upon seeing his father's body, terrified of the might that emerged from this creature's hands. Running Horn cast aside the peace and zen he held inside of his body and replaced it with rage. When his anger had subsided, the courtyard was filled with blood and the mangled, scattered corpse of his enemy. For a long time he held his father, who had given him everything and more, and he wept. Running Horn cried for a long, long time.