The young bull's temper and rages were such that he was perceived as a danger to the rest of the herd and thus driven away. He traveled north towards the mountains alone for many weeks, surviving on whatever grasses and herbs he could find. At the base of a steep mountain range, the minotaur discovered an abandoned bear's den. The cave deep enough to provide shelter from the harsh mountain weather. The solitude and brooding worsened his temper, although he was able to trade with a nearby clan of north men for most of what he needed to survive. The minotaur also knew other humans watched him. He could smell them from thier hiding places in the trees or among the rocks. He didn't care. Let them watch him. They could freeze there, so long as they left him alone...

(AS TOLD MONTHS LATER BY AN ELDER WOMAN OF A TRIBE NOW SCATTERED OR DEAD)

"Many times the beast gave meat to our enemies. Somtimes the pelts too, but always the meat.." the hag muttered. Her voice rose a bit as she looked up "Our enemies were growing stronger! They no longer felt the bite of the wind or the sting of the cold as we did!" Staring into the fire again her voice returned to the whisper of dry leaves "We were foolish.. we thought that if we stopped It, our enemies would grow weak again. We could defeat them once and for all. That their hunting grounds would be ours. Our tribe would grow strong..."

"The fact that It didn't eat meat was clear, but It must have needed other things..." the old woman mused. "Trading with It never occurred to us.. that it might be willing if we but asked..?" Those assembled began lookng around at each other in bewilderment as her whispers and mutterings turned incoherent. Thinking the hag was about to topple into the fire as she appeared to slumber in her seat, a hand started forward to steady her but jerked quickly back as several people gasped when she suddenly sprang to life again. "Twenty of our strongest and best hunters went out to defeat the beast!" she exclaimed, now on her feet. Slumping once again to rest on the end of the bench, her voice took on a reedy tone as she started to cry softly "one... returned.."

(OUR STORY RESUMES AS THE HUNTER RETURNED TELLS HIS TALE)

The wild eyed, terrified hunter tried to steady his shaky voice as his wounds were tended and he tried to warm himself near the fire...

"It.. It let me go! I thought It was going to eat me..! The eyes were so full of rage...! He.. It grabbed me and threw me across the clearing! It roared at me.. and screamed to tell the others.. Tell them all to leave It alone! I ran.. I ran through all the pieces.. All the bodies!" Breaking down, the man sobbed into his blankets.


Later, the carnage was found. Body parts were strewn everywhere. The carrion birds and other scavengers had fed well. Only a few of the hunters could be recognized. Some by their faces. Others.. only by guessing at the scars from battles past they were known to carry.

Word spread quickly and again Tarant was driven from his home. The north men he had been trading with, now shunned him. They told him it was bad to have him near them anymore. He would bring the wrath of their gods.

Again, weeks later, the brooding minotaur had found himself in a new place. The first time in a city, Frostfall quickly became interesting. The buildings and other sights were quite different from the open grazing or even the caves Tarant was used to. Trading his last pelt for a meal of oats and sweetmilk, it didn't take long for him to be directed where one of his size and nature could find a place to rest. The Barbarian's Guild has been a place where he could fit in and call home ever since.