Thundermarās Tavern Night!
Clan Stormheart had a grand olā time hosting tonightās festivities within the settlement of Thundermar!
We of course drank, played games - made new friends and settled affairs with an oath-breaker!
All in a nights work, with thanks to League of Modimus and Assemblage of Uld for stopping by!
Screenshots:
https://imgur.com/lHIS2NW
https://imgur.com/TRsmmIO
https://imgur.com/h7dSlhS
https://imgur.com/ZDzXwaA
Well, Clan Stormheart have been at it AGAIN hosting another night of festivities, drinking and -FIGHTING-! All within the confines of our beloved Highlands, here is exactly what weāve been up to oā late!
Thread: [Khaz Modan-RP] Thundermar's Bare-Knuckle Brawl
But as always we donāt stray too far from Kirthaven, still very much on the look-out for fellow Wildhammers in search of their forever home - you wonāt get a more authentic experience than that oā Stormheart!
Spiritual Trials, In-depth Gryphon RP, Family Life, Defending Khaz Modanā¦ Maybe a tipple oā drink every-so-often too?
Often described as the most ācosiest guildā folks have seen, come give us a try - did I mention weāre getting our bleeminā TATTOOS soon?!
Winds guide, māfolks!
Bump for a lovely lot of lads and lassies! We canāt wait to come over to Kirthaven as a part of the Wildhammer Enrichment Program. I am positive that nothing BAD will happen, nope, nothing!
Might have to fly on over and see whatās going on. Got room for another Wildhammer?!
Aye! Weāre always open to kin taking a fly-by and seeing what weāre all about! Come on by or poke me on my discord tag, lad!
And yes, letās see how olā Modimus fairs in Kirthaven! Be good to have you lads stop by!
The league just wrapped up a two-day cross guild event chain with the good folk of Clan Stormheart here!
On the first day we were treated to plenty of ale as we visited the gryphon hatchery, which took even our most hardened veterans by surprise as even they could not steel themselves to the adorable little birds! Facing a lack of candles to keep the hatchlings warm, the League will set out to cleanse a local kobold infestation near Hammerarm Hall and delivery the candles to Kirthaven as payment for Clan Stormheartās generosity. Along with that some of the members got to meet the patriarch of the gryphons, Rhea, who proved to be a challenging but worthwhile test to those who stepped up to her domain!
On the second day many a game was had, first starting out with the lifting competition, which resulted in many reps and just as many failures as the burly lads and lassies tried to lift wood, stone and iron! The second game was that of a wall run, while being pelted by rocks and boulders! Only one made it, which just so happened to be the drunken mess of the group! The last game was that of wrestling, which was as expected a rough and tumble affair, resulting in team Gorilla taking the games as they edged out Thunderwing by a few points!
Big ups to Clan Stormheart. Many thanks for hosting us!
What a lovely few evenings weāve had with the League of Modimus! It was a pleasure having you guys around! Donāt be strangers and make sure to come visit us again! This goes for everyone, the mead hall is always open for everyone with good intentions!
Aye, top bunch of lads. Im looking forward to more team ups in the future.
Had a fantastic experience of town RP on my first evening with Clan Stormheart. Looking forwards to many more. These guys are great. If you want warm, welcoming, intoxicated Wildhammers then these guys are very much your gig. Apologies to the folks that had to clean the rugs after our evening games. THUMPER!!!
I hear from trusted sources that the new customization options are going to up the game by at least 40% (depends on your commitment to your tats). Thatās AT LEAST a whopping 378% of Wildhammer goodness by the time Pre-patch is out!
Come have a drink in the hearth!
These short writing pieces where once upon the original thread of Stormheart, way back at the beginning of 2018. I thought Iād begin to re-release them, shedding some background on not only the many members of the family, but their Thanes different relationships with each of them.
A Reminiscence Of Youth
Itās late in the evening, the sun has long since departed down past the mountains to the west. The last glimpse of light flashes crimson across the sky before all turns to darkness. Though, the starlight flickers from up high as a radiant glow of silver dots soon erupt over the Highlands. A calming atmosphere, for the wind stays its hand too little more than a gentle breeze. A wavering light of gold and orange wisps about one of the carved out stone windows within the courtyard of Kirthaven.
Inside, Thane Stormheart would be sat in his usual spot, doing little out of the ordinary besides staring deep in thought to the charred logs upon the fireplace. His face stern, leaning his hardy chin onto his large left hand. His posture would seem that of a philosopher, though heās not contemplating anything so inspiring. His opposite hand would brush through the tangled silver hairs of his beard, before a few small crumbs from an earlier meal would scatter about onto his lap. Glancing down with a soft grunt, heād pluck up a small piece of gristle, most likely from the boar flank he had at supper. Furrowing his brow as heād examine it a moment, his lips curdle into a smile as heād lean further back into his seat.
āShhhh, donāt be too loud, or youāll wake olā Mr. Thimble.ā Grahda would speak softly, his tone playful. He would have his youngest son, Rekkr perched upon his knees. Heās but a small child of an age that now escapes the old Thane. āWhat are ye talking about, Da?ā the small lad would ask, his tone innocent as his eyes widen. āOooh, Iāve never told yer about tiny Mr. Thimble, eh? Heās a -very- small Gnoll that I found once. Only about, such big? Tiny!ā heād reply, never wiping the smile from his lips as heād use his right hand in gesture to show the boy just how small this Gnoll really is. āB-but, where do you keep him?ā asks Rekkr, sizing up the much larger and imposing father.
Grahda would glance down to the behemoth of hair that hangs from his face, chuckling away as heād pat it down softly. āWhy, I keep āem tucked up in here. Lovely nā warm.ā the boy, almost startled, adjusting himself on his fathers lap as heād quickly examine the large jungle of hair - hesitant to get too close. āMr Thimble?ā Rekkr would speak out, swapping from being curious too nervous in a flash. āStick yer hand in lad, he dunnae bite too much, haha!ā As Grahda scoops the boy up, placing him back, ever closer as heād egg him on āUs Stormheart are -fearless- son, dunnae be shy!ā but the little Rekkr would shake his head, turning his torso away from the beard as heād mutter āI donāt like āet Da, stop!ā though this is most amusing to the Thane, heād use his left handās thumb to wiggle it about Rekkrās ear, teasing as heād speak in a tone as if pretending to be Mr. Thimble āBut Iām tae friendliest Gnoll in ta kingdom, wee Rekkr, dunnae be shy!ā managing to get a small giggle from his boy, that would be enough for one night. Hearing Haelga shouting down the hall āWhatās our boy still doing up Grahda!? Bed!ā before all would fall silent once more.
āYou heard yer Ma, Rekkr. Cāmon, ooftā, thatās a big lump yer becoming, eh?ā as heād lift his boy up and in to his own bed, nodding slowly. āTime fer sleep now, mhrm.ā as heād turn, moving towards the door. āDa?ā the Thane would turn, peering down to Rekkr. āAre all Gnolls like Mr. Thimble?ā asking whilst slowly snuggling down into his furs. āAye, they ought tae be. Else theyāll have ya olā -Da- give them a good smacking.ā turning with a laugh, dousing the candle by Rekkrās bedside with a wet finger and thumb. āGānight boy.ā
The Thane would blink a couple of times whilst returning to the present, still peering to the small piece of boar gristle between his fingers, the smile would turn into sad exhale as heād flick it carelessly onto the floor.
He has raised and nurtured five children alongside his wife, Haelga. Though theyāve all grown into formidable Stormheart this old Thane still misses the little things, the innocence of youth in this deadly and unforgiving world. Heād slap both hands onto each arm of the chair, hauling his ancient body from his seat.
Leaving the fire to burn out as heād see himself off to bed.
Oh man, I remember these! Been ages since ive thought of OG Stormheart
The Forgotten Son
The icy chill of the late winter winds slowly subside over the Highlands, whilst the snow-capped peaks to the west melt and trickle down fresh mountain water into the little rivers thatād graduate, forming the great winding Verrall, leading out into the vast sea beyond. The frost would retreat back as the now vibrant and bountiful vegetation emerges, littering the low-lands surrounding Kirthaven - the proud, spiritual grounds of the Wildhammers. Clan Stormheart find themselves as welcomed guests, having spent the last few days tending to the everyday chores and labour to help maintain the precious settlement. This particular day was quite warm, whilst the air smelled strongly of recently settled dew, complimenting the growing flowers that had enveloped the roofs of the stone-clad hearths.
Thane Stormheart and one of his younger sons, Olgrynn, had just finished un-loading a large wagon of supplies thatāve recently arrived from Thundermar. A long morning with hard work, especially in the growing heat of the heightening sun, but they just about managed between the pair of them. āThatāll do lad.ā the Thane would speak out, leaning his bulky mass against a cobbled, moss-ridden wall to catch his breathe a moment - not being the young and abled body he once was. āAll this just fer that wedding, Da?ā Olgrynn would comment, his tone curious as heād inspect the many crates further. Though the Thane would simply nod, wrinkling his crooked snout as heād soon compose himself once more. āAye, be a good lad and fetch me a mug oā Thunderale? Iām parched.ā speaking in his usual gruff tone, whilst beads of sweat slip from his features as heād gently pat down his forehead with the bottom-end of his grand beard. āAye! I will, I shanāt be but a moment Da!ā Olgrynn would smile, heād have done anything to help, slapping his own sweaty rag over shoulder, side-stepping a few unloaded barrels of Bronzebrew before hastily moving inside.
What would seem a fair while, were in fact only a few short moments as the old haggard eyes of the Thane took a moment to pause, to really study his surroundings a little more. In light of such, heād catch a glimpse of a small, brightly coloured bird fluttering about in the gentle breeze, it wouldāve seemed itās caught supper! A large juicy worm snared between the beak. Grahda continues to watch the happenings, all the while content in the glorious day-time weather. Itād land atop a large oak tree, overbearing Kirthavenās quaint courtyard, but no sooner had it come to his attention that itās seeking to feed the hatchlings within the carefully crafted nest, wedged deep between the parting of two branches. Unable to see clearly, though heād notice perhaps five himself; five as if to imagine his own. But one of the chirping hatchlings doesnāt seem to be receiving much, if any of the worm feast provided.
Grahdaās expression then changed suddenly, too something it shouldnāt have been whilst admiring the wildlife of his home, no. Heās fallen off focus as the expression of realisation appears whilst sparing a thought for his own and often forgotten son, Olgrynn. Speaking truthfully, it happens more often than you might think. Being the āmiddle child" heās often dismissed between the daily goings and happenings of the family, bearing no real weight to the dynasty of Clan Stormheart, usually over-looked and unheard. The Thane exhales slowly, rubbing a large grubby left palm down over his face though not before massaging his now closed eye-sockets. āAh, he does āes best, as good as tae rest oā themā¦ A good son.ā trying to redeem himself in quiet monologue.
Suddenly to feel a mug jab lightly into his right arm, watching as a little ale spills up and over the frothy lip before covering Grahdaās hairy bicep. Itād be Olgrynn of course, smiling and none-the-wiser to his fatherās recent thoughts. āHere yer go, Da!ā heād add, having poured himself his own mug in the process - leaning up into the wall alongside his father. Grahda would really try, offering a genuine smile, lifting the mug in a half-arsed toast, using his spare hand to clasp around Olgrynnās furthest shoulder, holding firmly.
āI truly am proud oā yer son, fer all that yer have and have yet taedo.ā though it wasnāt spoken aloud, he couldnāt even manage that. Kept locked inside the Thaneās mind as heād stand linked with his son. But he felt the words to be true and that will have todo for now. As both look on, enjoying their beverages as theyād observe together the comings and goings of old Kirthaven, for as long as the drink may last.
And hopefully, not the last time theyād do such together.
I miss those one eyed blinks
The Heirloom
Itād be late in the evening as heavy rainfall continues to wash down the muddy banks and thorn filled hedgerows of Thundermar. A constant trickle, pooling ever so slowly into the shallow ponds surrounding. Birds of all sizes are seen darting about, frantically trying to take shelter within their fastened strongholds of twigs and leaves. As the downpour continued for hours on end, much to the delight of the slimy toads, water insects and other wildlife that relish in their refilled habitats. The looming sky seemed almost tainted with both purple and blue, as if under an enchantment of sorts. But it is no such folly; simply being the harsh, drastic climate in which the Highlands requires to help flourish and grow. A delayed lightning arch would spark down through the air, igniting upon solid stone within the distant mountain ranges. Such an invasive noise battles with the blustering gale as itād descend upon the ears of the settled Stormheart, now full from their recent supper, keeping each other company within the guest quarters of the rather saturated village.
Thane Stormheart would be slumped at the head of an elongated table, crafted from sourced local pine, his backside parked upon one of the wooden benches that are situated either side; having just finished his plateful of beer-blasted boar and sliced cured cheddar. Sliding the crumb filled dish away from himself, belching with great satisfaction. Heād even begin to lick the individual digits of his hands, making sure to have properly cleaned his fingers from all the grease. Opposite Grahda would be the equally impressive stature of Throrgar, his second and most favoured son. Whom, like his father had just finished such a meal. Together theyād relish in a light hearted toast whilst raising their tankards to a well deserved victory, earlier that very same day. āNever waver son, yer continue taedo me proud!ā Grahda blurted out, his voice asserting, but does little good against the echoing thunder-claps from outside.
The evening passes on whilst the cobbled trails outside soon become bordered by running water-ways, making for an increasingly slippery walk. The individual stones glisten as the moss creeping about their foundations darkens a grim tone of green. The hour is now very late, though the thunder still elevates true through the skies above. Grahda would still be sat in the same position, glued to the same bench, now surrounded by a few dozen empty mugs, polished off well by the old Thanes habits. Some are even lying on their sides, having been neglected and spilled, copious amounts of ale now runs along the tables surface and down between the cracks below. Throrgar however had long since gone to bed, though this didnāt stop his father to carry on celebrating on his behalf. A singular, final belch of gluttony before heād fall, face-down in all his glory upon the table, unable to keep himself awake any longer.
Heād find the table removed, to then collide his face upon stone floor, although surprisingly heād feel no pain. Growling never-the-less as heād plant his large hands upon the ground whilst prying his body up. Hazed slightly as heād peer around this new environment. Finding himself inside the familiar halls of the mighty Grim Batol - ancient fortress city of the Wildhammers. Lying about the floor heād soon rise to his knees, peering about as heād watch shadowy figures work the hardened āAnvil of Khardrosā. Heād expect to feel the blazing heat wrap around his being but to no avail, left in mutual limbo as the presence of his former brothers and sisters wade in and about his figure. A mere guest in his own imagination.
Hearing the call and determined tone of a voice he wouldnāt ever forget, Karban Stormheart. His once proud uncle and crafter of the Stormheartās family heirloom; the great hammer Mokāgrum.
āHold āet steady!ā bellowed Karban whilst helping to carve out the runes into the dense block of thorium. Itād begin to spark with white and blue fissures, gathering around the shamanās feet, requiring a host of participants to help complete the task. Flaring up a contrast of raw embers that would spark from the initial connection of both chisel and metal - fluttering into the cavern above and aiding in illuminating the practice that is taking place.
Though Grahda would not stay grounded for long, this vision begins to mould quickly in to yet another scene. Finding himself now placed firmly on his feet in the succession ceremony of his son, Throrgar. A shadowed figure is seen to be holding out the vast war-hammer of his family, whilst all Grahda can do is watch on - noticing Throrgarās expression is that of gratitude and acceptance. āThis be a heavy weapon tae wield, though should Mokāgrum find me worthy. I will be graced with its contained power.ā the boy spoke. His voice resonating loudly off the walls of space and imagination. The runic head of the hammer glows a vibrant blue hue. Hearing true to Throrgarās grasp as the lad would hoist itās cumbersome frame up above his head. The sound of lightning crackles and echoes throughout Grahdaās mind, partnered with the sound of his sons triumphant roar.
Awoken suddenly to the realisation of his own situation, having fell half off the bench in which he sat. āAnd so āet shall be.ā heād mumble, trying to find his bearings again, quickly to realise that he is alone once more within the dimly lit hall. The accompanying fire is now all but reduced to embers. Unsure of the time heād stagger to his feet whilst holding his head.
āThrorgar, a true son oā Stormheart.ā
Only child Grahda ever likedā¦other then Aerla
Stories of mighty deeds and fated moments are told by the crackling fire of the Hearth in Kirthaven: Where shadows dance along the walls in merriment with the flames which cast them.
And soon, very soonā¦ A new chapter shall unfold in the great book of Wildhammer lore, of tattoos and trinkets I hearā¦
Flower Of The Family
Both Bromar and Throrgar collided into one another; their masses interlock as theyād grapple and clinch - each looking for the upper hand whilst theyād grunt and sweat. Training in the form of wrestling atop the dried mud and freshly sprung grass bordering Thundermar, feeling the sweltering mid-day sun beam down upon their tanned flesh. Summer had finally settled over the Highlands as the pair indulge for their daily exercise, comprising of blood pumping physical training and gruelling combat prowess, with a pinch of sibling rivalry added to the mix. Further down the large open green pastures, Olgrynn would be taking on Rekkr in the same tumbling bout; for each son of Stormheart will give their all, as such was to be expected as forever their Thaneās eyes are watching with both scrutiny and judgement. However, it seems today would be a little different.
The old Thane is perched upon an ivy-tangled boulder, facing the opposite way to the violent regimes of his sons as something rather quite different has had his attention fixated for once. Itād be his little Aerla Stormheart, of an age that would suggest sheās not long been able to walk and run around for herself. Heād observe her with a spread smile upon his lips, clutching his pipeās bulb-head lightly within his large right hand whilst exhaling a gradual stream of smoke from his nostrils; itād get caught up into the gentle breeze before wafting over the rolling fields surrounding. Enjoying the sun shining down its loving warmth, spreading upon his hulking back and nape. Heād make the most endearing chuckle, simply loving to witness the innocents of youth that heās not had since Rekkr was of a similar age.
Aerla was always garbed by whatever her mother Haelga had made, this particular day she wore a lovely fashioned blue silk dress thatād end just above her ankles. Sheād be seen kipping around bare footed about the low-cut grass, disturbing the small residents thatād call the field home. Butterflies would loft up and flutter around her crimson locks, recently braided and decorated with small petals and wooden charms. Sheād release a happy and most innocent laugh whilst chasing the small bugs around, often falling over her own footing - but sheād land quite soft, however much her dress became grubby or ripped. Never straying too far from her fathers view, though Grahda would never take his eyes off her should she be out playing. Often running to him with a bunch of hand-picked flowers of various colours and scents. And that, of course, was the Thaneās afternoon sorted - sitting with his daughter perched on his lap as theyād both create lovely head pieces to wear and share together.
Sparing moments throughout his day for the sons as theyād return from training, sometimes bloodied and bruised, both bandaging and settling their various wounds. With the aid of little Aerla, sheād always insist on helping too. For she had a warm heart for every single one of her family, never having held a grudge for longer than an hour should a brother tease or upset her.
Returning to her mother in the evenings whilst dragging mud and grass through the hearth, taking great delight in sharing her daily adventures with all her brothers, visiting each room in order, never once forgetting to say goodnight; like clock-work. A happy soul thatād steal the heart of the Thane, for she was the best of him and heād see her grow up to become whatever she wished. Aerla was never destined to hold sway nor leadership within the family, but sheād hold her father and motherās heart delicately in her little hands.
Through the years she grew alongside her brothers to become a curious and caring individual, finding her place as the ever-flowing beacon of happiness to all who call themselves Stormheart.
The ever-blooming flower of the family.
We named Team Storm Petal after her and those blooms of hers