I’ll Make a Bard Out of You starts playing
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/e Sharpens Howling Axe
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It’d be interesting to have a run in with you guys if you place yourselves in Ashenve.
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There will be screaming bullroarers.
There will be chanting Orcs.
There will be howling axes.
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Guild is officially made! We’re ready to go, Warsong roll out 
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FWIW Grom softened up a little later on in life after the blood haze was over.
The orcs were murmuring among themselves now, confused. Iskar bowed.
“Noble Hellscream,” he began, “we had thought that this child’s capture would please you. We expected —”
“I would expect that its parents would track it down to our lair, you fool!” cried Grom. “We are warriors, fierce and proud. At least we once were.”He shuddered, as if from a fever, and for a moment seemed to Thrall to be pale and tired. But that impression was gone as quickly as it had come. “We do not butcher children. I assume whoever caught the whelp had the presence of mind to blindfold it?”
“Of course, lord,” said Rekshak, looking offended.
“Then take him back where you found him the same way.” Hellscream marched over to the child and removed the gag. The boy was too terrified to cry out. “Listen to me, tiny human. Tell your people that the orcs had you, and chose not to harm you. Tell them,” and he looked over at Thrall, “that they showed you mercy. Also tell them if they try to find us, they will fail. We will be on the move soon. Do you understand?”The boy nodded. “Good.” To Rekshak, he said, “Take him back. Now. And the next time you find a human pup, leave it be.”
Rekshak nodded. With a definite lack of gentleness, he took the boy by the arm and hauled him to his feet.
“Rekshak,” said Grom, his harsh voice heavy with warning. “If you disobey me and the boy comes to harm, I shall know of it. And I shall not forgive.”
Staring right at him with a curious expression on its face was an orc child. Thrall’s eyes opened wider to regard the small male. There had been no children among the Warsong clan. They had been cobbled together after dreadful battles, their numbers decimated, and Grom had told him that the children had been the first to succumb.
The way of total domination lead to the humans rallying and killing all the Warsong children in revenge, a fact Grom came to regret and lead to him drawing a line in the sand. That’s not to say that they stopped their war-like way, only that children are now off limits after what happened to the Warsong’s own.
Still an excellent idea for a guild and I look forward to seeing it flourish, even if my own orc isn’t a Warsong.
you’re not getting away that easily
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The ranks have recieved their last and final polish! Some has been added, and some have been tweaked!
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Looks good!
Looking forward to getting involved IC in a couple of weeks. I’m actually happy how niche the guild concept is because not only is it delightfully fitting for my character, but the idea of a small-ish guild appeals to me due to having limited time to play and it hopefully won’t be too hard to follow what’s happening with the guild.
I should bring to conclusion a couple of my NPC heavy stories for Manata, then ready to ride into new adventures with fellow Warsong!
Many cheers for the initiative Rok’lor.
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Lovely to see this take off, Lok’tar!
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May the Warsong never fade.
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After a successful launch of the guild, and a steady flow of new members, we are temporarily closing down recruitment. Once the guild is even more properly established, we will be opening up once more!
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Glad you’ve gotten well off the ground!
I expect to be in touch - for membership or “just” Warsong RP - when I get back from my improv internet vacation.
Those Alliance trophies won’t conquer themselves!
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You should have thought about that before marrying into another clan. You’re chained now, ball and everything.
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People are more than welcome to come by and hang out with us.
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That’s a shame. Oh well, I will be in touch as well!
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THE WOLVES OF STRIFE
Under the blistering sun they’d ride, dispatched these chosen few had a purpose, fuelled by emergency and direction - creating a dust cloud that’d trail much higher, much further than you’d expect from such a small pack of riders. But these where no ordinary messengers, they were Warsong. Their beasts monstrous, leaving heavy impact upon the ground; each paw left imprinted long after they’re gone.
The Crossroads, that was their first destination and calling point - thundering down the Gold Road with their banners caught aloft in the savannah’s dry breeze. Their current pace doesn’t seem to lessen until they’re quite literally passing through the northern gates, a large tattoo’d Orc seemed to be spear heading this particular party, swarming into the central area of the outpost. Each rider circling in similar motion to the next, continuing to buffer the air with swirls of dust; tugging and guiding their snarling wolves to inspect and observe the settlement from within. Not wanting to stop completely but to convey a swift message - much like their battle plans, they strike hard and leave suddenly, but not without a lasting impression of course.
”HONOUR THE CALL, THE WARSONG RALLY ONCE MORE!”
The brutish Ironsong would bellow out to the masses now gathered, Orc, Troll and Tauren alike; but he -knew- who he was talking to. Out there in between the many faces of the Horde, Warsong still lived divided, but no longer. Another of this viscous riding pack also made herself known, Wolftongue they’d called her, seen delving deep into her saddle bag before producing a large quantity of rolled parchment. And whilst Ironsong continued his conquest of the eardrum, Gri’khara diverted her attention to the faces that looked keen enough to listen, perhaps more so than the rest; challenging Ironsong for shouting supremacy.
”PACKLEADER FIREBLOOD DEMANDS YOUR LOYALTIES, SEALED WITH BLOOD!”
Wolftongue roars, resonating with bestial vigour, standing proudly within her stirrups to increase her height to the assembled, allowing a chosen parchment roll down loosely within her grip. It’d look simple, without need for much more explanation. Upon each individual parchment was a bloodied handprint, dried and pressed with certainty - perhaps even urgency. A clear sign to all those who know its intention. Shifting Mala forward to first part and then enter the crowd herself, Wolftongue thrusts out these gore-soaked invitations to any who’ve stepped forward to meet her.
”AND ALL WILL KNOW, WE’RE NO LONGER DIVIDED!”
Ironsong barks out again, turning about and grasping a Warsong banner held out to him by another Outrider, grunting before thrusting the notched pole high above himself, allowing the cloth to catch wind once more - as if attempting to pierce the very air itself! Taking point, he’d exchange a mutual nod to Wolftongue whilst passing, indicating to each other that they’re to move on. The Warsong begin to turn about, thrashing the central area with padded paws yet again, frantically making headway back up and through the northern gate once more.
”Tell all you can, make for the Mor’shan Ramparts with all haste my brothers.”
Wolftongue would speak out to those close enough to hear, removing another tied bundle of bloodied parchment before tossing it down to another Orc in passing. Suddenly digging her heels down, breaking into a frenzied sprint to catch up with the rest of the group, following the cracked pathway to their next destination: Razor Hill. Time passed, there was soon whispers, people talking about a similar intrusion that happened a few days after, within the very walls of Orgrimmar. Many would’ve heard the call by now, many would’ve received their bloody message.
And always, upon the wind you’d hear the thunder echoing still.
”LOK’TAR OGAR!”
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The visit of Ironsong made Durom remember his oldest memories, all the suffering with his Clan until they found a place to call home after Grommash sacrifice.
As every week, at the sixth drumbeat Durom woke up to buy some materials for his farm. Before the first lights, the wind caressed the savannah and Durom’s exposed body.
The Crossroads were messy -more than usually, even-. As he approached to the core of the settlement, many of the orcs present were speaking about the Warsong. “Weird in these times” thought Durom. The Clan wasn’t commonly spoken as a whole. Durom bent down and took one of the parchment on the Horde settlement’s floor, a red hand was stamped over the parchments.
He took one with him and left the Crossroads back to his farm, to the north. As he were walking, alone, he took off the parchment from his pouch, then observed it, frowning. A Warsong Call, Durom remembered his talk with Ironsong few moons ago, it was real Barren’s sun was already mercilessly at that drumbeat and there was still many work to do at the farm, the boars require most of the orc time.
The veteran reached his pigpen… As he was about to start the work, inside the warehouse, in the left corner, his old axe and shield were leaning on the wall… To the right corner, were all the farm tools. Motionless, Durom took off the parchment from his pouch again, observed it for a while, deeply frowning and remaining silent. Finally he sighed… And stepped forward.
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I think if you remove the _ (underlines), it will turn to a box. 
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We are once more open! Do you wish to join in? Follow the contacting methods listed in the top!
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Contacted you via B-Net!
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