- На эту страницу указано перенаправление с "Ло'Гош".
Голдринн, также известный как Ло'Гош ("призрачный волк" на языке орков), — это огромный Древний, известный своей жестокостью в бою. Голдринна изображали в виде гигантского белого волка и ему было уже 10.000 лет, когда Пылающий Легион впервые вторгся в мир Азерота. Прежде чем пасть, полубог уничтожил сотни демонов Легиона. Считается, что Голдринн помог ночным эльфам Элдре'Таласа при обороне их города от нападения войск Пылающего Легиона, но после этого он исчез и никто его с тех пор не видел.
Легенда о нём распространилась по всему Азероту и это привело к тому, что у большинства народов мира — эльфов, тауренов, троллей, гоблинов, и даже у дворфов — есть своя версия этой легенды. В каждой из этих версий его невероятная сила и мощь дали ему возможность пробиться через границы загробной жизни, чтобы помочь своему народу.[источник?] This may be metaphorical however, since Tyrande 's vision, which recounted the events of Goldrinn's death, depicts his mortal wolf progeny continuing his legacy and pressing on the fight against the Burning Legion after he fell in battle.
Before his noble sacrifice, the night elf goddess Elune was said to be disappointed in his feral insistence. Он не пытался усмирить свою ярость и жажду крови, затмившую его сердце. Когда лунный свет освещает тьму в полнолуние, то Голдринну кажется, как будто Элуна с укором смотрит на него. Гнев на подобное осуждение заставляет Голдринна становиться еще более кровожадным и неукротимым.
Goldrinn is the source of the worgen transformation, as one of his fangs was used to create the Scythe of Elune, the artifact that created the first worgen. Due to this connection, he is also the patron spirit of the worgen. His "spirit" seems to live on, favoring the human king, Varian Wrynn. It is suspected that Goldrinn not only admired Varian's ferocity, but also his ability to tame it. Something he himself was never able to do. His choice to champion Varian seems to be another last redeeming act to Elune.
В CataclysmЭта секция содержит эксклюзивную информацию для Cataclysm.
Players will find the shrine of the wolf god Goldrinn, inhabited by corrupted worgen, and recover it. After recovering the shrine, the player must purify the shrine by summoning and slaying Lycanthoth. After which the Spirit of Goldrinn will appear to aid Hyjal's defenders in routing the Twilight's Hammer.
Игроки найдут поражённых проклятием воргенов в святилище волчьего бога Голдринна и освободят его из под власти культа Сумеречного Молота. After recovering the shrine, the player must purify the shrine by summoning and slaying Lycanthoth. After which the Spirit of Goldrinn will appear to aid Hyjal's defenders in routing the Twilight's Hammer.
Друиды Косы[уточнить] — секта друидов и последователей Голдринна. Они принимали облик диких воргенов и постепенно утратили контроль над своим разумом, проявляя жестокую натуру воргена. Прочие друиды согласились, что они представляют опасность для всех, и погрузили их в долгий сон под древом, который продлился до тех пор, пока Аругал не призывал их.
Следующий текст из выцветшего дневника, который можно найти в городе Гилнеас в процессе первоначального накопления опыта воргенов:
"A druid's gift is his freedom to embrace and explore all facets of nature."
Malfurion so often spoke these words. I was once foolish enough to believe that he truly lived by them. Yet while my shan'do spouted this freedom, he disgraced me and my druids of the pack by banning our form. I can still recall with great clarity his angry tirades whenever he discovered us practicing in secret.
"The pack form cannot be controlled. It will consume you, and endanger us all."
The ignorance with which Malfurion passed judgment on us is infuriating. Does he not realize that the spirit of the wolf ancient, Goldrinn, is by nature's grace within me and my pack brethren? We did not choose it. It chose us. To shun it would be to turn our backs on nature itself.
It only pains me that at a time like this, when our race is threatened by war with the vile satyr, Malfurion rejects us -- the very druids who could turn the tide of battle in his favor.
It matters little now. Today my brethren and I will depart from night elf society forever to begin life anew in the wild. We will show our shan'do's beliefs to be wrong and prove that Goldrinn's spirit can in fact be controlled.
Six nights have come and gone since we carved out our new homes in the heart of the forest. Our pack leader, Renthel, has taken charge over the community, and under his wise leadership I have at last found true freedom.
Each night we practice our form at the roots of a fallen tree where we have placed Goldrinn's fang. A thing of beauty it is... merely being in its presence seems to empower me. At times I wonder if the wolf ancient left this remnant of himself on the world as a gift to those who pursue his form.
These nightly sessions have filled me with renewed confidence in my ability to harness Goldrinn's spirit. Although Malfurion so often spoke of its dangers, even now we are proving him to be wrong.
There was an argument tonight. A seasoned druid named Thaldrus laid claim to leadership of the pack over Renthel, and both druids settled the dispute in pack form. They circled one another for what seemed an eternity, mouths foaming and fangs bared, until Thaldrus lunged at Renthel and pinned him to the ground.
Renthel honorably accepted his defeat and relinquished his leadership with no further violence. If only Malfurion could have witnessed the dignity with which Thaldrus and Renthel acted on this eve.
Something strange has been happening of late. My brothers spend more and more time in pack form throughout the day. Many of them claim that it is a necessity to mastering the form, yet I feel that it is not the sole reason.
An urge, primal in origin, grows inside of me. It is a desire that I can only sufficiently sate when I take on the pack form. I fear that the others feel it too.
Tonight, under the two moons, we ventured through the wild in pack form and felled three stags. So famished were my brethren and I that we simply ripped into the creatures, clawing and biting at each other while we feasted. Euphoria washed over me as I sank my teeth into the stag's raw flesh. Even if I had been without an appetite, gorging on the creature would have satisfied me.
First time out of pack form in seven nights. Live as a wolf like others, from one night to the next. Pack leader Thaldrus says night elf bodies are weak. All trust him. All follow him. If he saw me now, he would kill me.
Goldrinn's spirit consuming us. Fighting it feels just as wrong as giving in.
Still taste pack leader Thaldrus' blood in my mouth.
Cannot recall details. Only remember Thaldrus taking Goldrinn's fang from fallen tree. Caught him dragging it into his den and--
<This part of the page is illegible due to blood stains>
Took two nights for Thaldrus to come out. We were waiting. Fangs and claws and rane. Tore him apart. Fur and flesh everywhere. Only gnawed bones afterward.
No leader now.
Much has come to pass of late, and I feel that at last I have regained a portion of my sanity. Five nights ago, I left my den to discover that the other pack members were gathered around something, or as I soon discovered, someone. A night elf whose scent I recognized as Ralaar Fangfire, a druid of Malfurion's ilk.
As one we encircled him, yet the intruder held his ground. I smelled not a hint of fear on him, despite the fact that he remained in night elf form. His arrogance was quite infuriating.
Three of my enraged brothers charged Ralaar, and the newcomer took on the pack form and bested the challenges with little effort... yet he did not kill them.
In that instant I became aware of a difference between him and us. We had become savages... scarred, lean, and disheveled. Ralaar, however, was powerful, majestic, and still rife with Goldrinn's essence.
When no others dared challenge him, Ralaar took on his night elf form and spoke. In a tirade that reminded me of Malfurion, he berated us for becoming mindless animals and squandering what he referred to as the purity of Goldrinn's essence. Yet unlike my former shan'do, Ralaar also promised to teach us the true path to harnessing the wolf ancient's spirit. I sensed tremendous rage in his voice, tempered by a self control that I had somehow lost in recent weeks.
One by one we all left our pack forms. I can only guess that my brethren, like I, felt a strange affinity to this newcomer, as if here were a messenger of Goldrinn himself.
Ralaar has since begun teaching us as he had promised, though he no longer answers to his given name.
Rather, he now refers to himself simply as Alpha Prime.
-Gaedrin Moonfang, Druid of the Pack
Беседа с Такриком Гневный Вой
- Lo'Gosh is the spirit of the hunter, the animal instinct that kicks in when one smells food or sees one's children in jeopardy. He has always been with us, a part of our Horde, in our instincts and in our blood.
- He has appeared in many forms, both on our world and here. On Azeroth, he is seen as a great white wolf, ferocious and cunning. The night elves call him "Goldrinn."
- They tell of a legendary battle thousand years ago, where Lo'Gosh fought off the demon hordes. Do you want to hear about it?
- Ten thousand years ago demons first breaches this world, just as they had the orc homeworld of Draenor. They flooded across the terrain in legion. The great ancients of Azeroth helped the mortal races to mount a desperate defense.
- The tenacity of Lo'Gosh in these dark days became the stuff of legend. He feared no demon. He would wade into their ranks, fangs bared and spattered with their vile ichor, his great claws thrashing them by the dozen...
- His stand against the demons inspires as all. We can all learn from his example.[требуется локализация]