I just finished a really lovely RP on one of my Wildhammers. Her gryphon had died in battle some time ago and I had contacted Throrgar/Grahda in order to arrange for some RP for my dwarf to attempt a friendship with gryphons whoâve lost their riders.
Friends, there was laughing, there was crying, it was incredible RP all around and if youâre looking to do some gryphon trading, I highly recommend contacting him and arrange a time!
Was an absolute blast having you swoop by for some Gryphon meeting / purchasing, Gwetha! Glad you enjoyed, you and Bill make the best duo! 
Weâve got -FIVE- more Gryphon currently awaiting new companionship, so if youâre looking for some Gryphon / rider RP, youâll not find any better chance than with us at Clan Stormheart!
Thatâs if youâre not eaten by our colossal matriarch Rhea first of courseâŚ
Tharragh smiled as he felt the air sweeping over his face, the air was still cold from the winters bite. The spring had not yet returned to the northern parts of the Highlands, and bellow him and his Gryphon the snow was still glistering white over the peaks and most of the valley. The bard patted Cliff on his beak and slapped the reins once to increase their speed. Tharragh had been away for a few weeks now⌠Much had happend, and now it was about time to get home- To Kirthaven.
Heads up folks, the Mad bard from the Aeries is gonna bring music to the hearth soon enough!
Every one hide! Warbles is coming
I hear you guys are about to be overrun by Trolls⌠
Pfft, we just feed trolls to the gryphons.
These lads and lasses are damn brutal to fight against, and in a best way possible!
After the grieveous deeds done atop Thunderstrike mountain, Clan Stormheart is more resolved than ever to strike back at those who wronged them.
It is said that in the far North, where death and shadow dwell, an evil is once again preparing to become a power to be reckoned with⌠It is now that we must act; for if we wait too long our sacred places, our homes and lives might be forfeit under the wicked gassault of the Trolls!
To Northrend we go, with Elves and Worgen we travel afar,
We go, we go, we go to war!
och laddie
But on a serious note, enjoying getting narrowly dive-bombed by gryphons!
The bard tho ever present, remained silent and much more to himself then what he had ever been before Gradhas passing. Tharragh stayed with the gryphons, feeding them while the others rested from battle or adventures, watering them as the others slept. Himself sleeping in the hay near the animals rather then among any other dwarfs. Tharraghs songs however remained ever present, and the bard kept singing nomatter what he was up to. His fiddle rarely resting and himself, if not healing the wounded or caring for the animals he would sit nearby the camp, playing some song. Loud enough to heard but not loud enough to disturb. A perfect tune and perfect volume that he mastered from all those years in the taverns.
Well, whatâve we been up too lately?..
Clan Stormheart have been braving the fierce colds of the farthest north, alongside Elves and Worgen they battled within the likes of ZulâDrak, Dragonblight and Grizzly Hills. In attempts to thwart the ever-scheming Drakkari, or whatâs left of them anyway.
We now venture from one campaign to another, now settled within Wintergarde Keep for the foreseeable, ever hardy, though their trust in alliances shaken.
A Stormheart never wavers.
Upcoming Events
Clan Stormheart are hosting a couple of server events aimed at the RPâers of Khaz Modan in the near future too!
THE HIGHLAND GAMES
23rd - 25th April
Thread: [Khaz Modan RP] The Highland Games - Spring 2021
THUNDERMARâS BARE-KNUCKLE BRAWL
29th May
Thread: [Khaz Modan RP] Thundermar's Bare-Knuckle Brawl
If youâve ever fancied trying out Dwarf / Gnome RP, theyâll be a grand gathering to participate in within these events!
See you there!
As we wrap up our campaigns in Northrend, Clan Stormheart is making ready to head back to Kirthaven. Highland Games are coming up near weekâs end, make sure to check the thread out!
THE HIGHLAND GAMES
23rd - 25th April
Thread: [Khaz Modan RP] The Highland Games - Spring 2021
After the success of another of our much loved Highland Games, we shanât stop there! At the end of the month Clan Stormheart will be hosting Thundermarâs Bare-Knuckle Brawl!
(Link can be found above at the OP)
Weâre also currently looking for more able-bodied Wildhammer whoâre seeking to find a lasting home. So if youâve ever fancied RPân the best of the Three Hammers, swing on by Kirthaven for that authentic Wildhammer experience!
Can definitely recommend this bunch, was great to see such fliers about the damned campaign even if they were on gryphons <3
And so the Stormhammer was to be remadeâŚ
Upon the lonesome summit, within the shadow of Aerie Peak did this ceremony take place. The anvil most ancient and blackened, carved from the weathered stone thatâd protruded the ravaged plateau. A gathering of kin bearing the cradled halves of the Stormhammer, carried to be laid upon the anvil, spread apart. A Stormhammerâs head was traditionally forged from thorium, whilst the handle was often varied by the taste and wishes of its current master. In this case, it was a skilled effort to implement thorium, storm-silver and iron; almost âDamascusâ in appearance.
Though an anvil it was placed upon, the ritual that is practiced here to make the two halves whole again, is not corrected by that of hammer nor magma. For the power of these thunderous weapons stems ultimately from the generations whoâve left their already mark upon them; like a tapestry, these hammers adorn the successes and shame of all whoâve wielded them. And so once more must be called forth, for their blessings must be offered. Else the runes are destined to be left cold upon the weaponâs cheek, no more to be re-ignited.
The ominous weather slowly begins to circle above them, as the storm turned tempest whilst the High-Shaman, Grongul Stormheart, stood alone atop the moss-ridden stone. A beckoning of the elements, battering both charred vegetation and flesh alike. Whilst two artisan blacksmiths, Barkor and Mairede Thunderfist prepared mighty, grappling the two halves as theyâd socket them closer until almost touching. A final blessing then from a Gryphon Master, Haelga Stormheart, for whom had great standing within the family for generation - for her job was to summon forth the ancestral spirits of the Stormhammer; those whoâve long slumbered.
Thane Grahda StormheartâŚ
Borlahn StormheartâŚ
Thane Olgan StormheartâŚ
Karban StormheartâŚIndeed, the weaponâs might did not care for title and Thaneship alone, but for anyone whoâs more than proved worthy in the eyes of their predecessor. Upon each brief visit between the storm of these passing shades, did they implemented both wrath and acceptance of the newly appointed wielder. Their blessing forced through the hand of the High-Shaman, directing the raw energy back within the inscribed runes of old. This power didnât stay idle however, for the lingering potency within longed to escape - to which the artisan blacksmith had to hold steady and aligned.
Both ferocity and power encircled the summit, upon the final blessing earned by the weaponâs deceased creator did the power increase ten-fold. More than what the two blacksmith could handle, for any and all who where present offered their strength to the joining of head and shaft.
A terrible struggle followed, unable to allow the raw energy leave or escape, the family did finally manage to unite the two halves - locking itâs haft within the bored hole of the head.
A lasting arch of lightning forked, pummelling the ancient weapon. The retreating family stood back, their vision blinded as theyâd lower before itâs majesty.
Between the pitted flames and charred stone, the Stormhammer glowed a vibrant hue of blue. Itâs inscribed runes pulsating a cold white, crackling as escapes of whisping static crawls away from the head.
MohrâGrum, the heirloom of Clan Stormheart had been reborn.
In the wild once more, Tharragh had been seen going out more and more, staying away from Kirthaven for long stretches of time. The bard and Cliff landed nearby the western borders close to the mountainside. As the morningsun rose towards the eastern skyline Tharragh sat himself by his friend and leaned his head into the feathery mane of Cliff.
âYe knouw boyle, Ay bare nae even sing right nouw. Look at thaâ sky. The colours burstinâ over the sea, the orange and the rosered-â
Tharragh was abruptly cut short as Cliff scoffed and pushed the dwarfs fiddle closer to him. âAlrighâ lad, Ayâll sing instead then⌠Chuckeling he grabbed the fiddle from the now more content gryphon. If Cliff couldâve smiled he sure wouldâve. The animal laid his head closer to the dwarf and cuddled. The bard drew the stroke in a lonesome and slow tune over the bow. His fingers moved as water over a creekbed in a natural and smooth way as he changed chords.
âLow lie, The Fields of Arathi.
Where once we watched the free gryphons fly,
Our louve was off the wing.
We had dreams anâ songs tae sing,
Etâs so lounley round the Fields of Arathi.
By a lonely mountain wall,
Ay heard a young lad callinâ
Nothinâ matters Sarah, when ye be freeââŚâ
Greatwing the Loyal
A tale by Haelga Stormheart
I was young once, resilient, strong and fair. For this tale I feel needed be written to be remembered, I shanât ever forget it, nor the lesson it teaches. But neither now, shall you, my children.
Thane Olgan Stormheart was without much compassion, his strength however, could be considered that of legend amongst our own, but with all the size offered there seemed little room within his heart. His temperament forever a burden laid heavy upon this family, more-so than most, Borlahn Stormheart; your Uncle. For Borlahn was still much of youth, fool-hardy and with little interest of the matters of leadership, of -Thaneship-. Olgan hounded him for many years, attempting to craft with both word and fist a worthy successor out of the boy, for little reward. A beaten Borlahn often confided in Grahda, from whatever brief respite they could have of their father. The pair were seemingly close since a young age, from what I gathered.
But one day, Borlahn had reached the end of his tether with Olgan. The pair fought at supper, offering out curses and raised voice to the other. Borlahn didnât allow himself to show fear in the presence of Olgan, but this only aggravated the Thane more. He man-handled his defiant son, dragging him outside - the painful cries of Borlahn travelled back down the hearth. The hearty meal prepared was left stone-cold upon the plates that night, for I had not the stomach for it after such an ordeal.
Olgan returned shortly afterwards, his knuckles bloodied and raw, sitting back at the table to eat, seemingly un-phased by whatâd come to pass. Borlahn however, did not return. Now this isnât a passage to write and abuse the memory of Olgan, heâd loved for a time - and I think heâd thought that was enough. Especially for someone whoâd been raised by the likes of Balâgahn, atleast.
I remember the next morning with some haze, but Borlahn was still nowhere to be found. Heâd fled our home, having taken his beast from the roost at sunâs first light. Grahda confronted his father alongside Yarlgai; your Grandma. With some convincing, the Thane had finally decided upon a search party. At first, I was denied the opportunity to help, Olganâs wrath reached far as his dislike for anything different was deep. He scorned my family often by that of passing word or gesture. For my own father wasnât a warrior, nor of any heroic capability, a keen craftsmen in his own right - I loved him dearly. But this wasnât fitting nor suitable for Olganâs own stock to be partnered with, but try he might, this didnât phase your father, Grahda. For compassion and a large heart did my husband have, he all but earned my affection in but a single meeting.
So we all saddled up, Greatwing her name was, she was my first feathered companion and most loving of friend. When the families of Aerie Peak harnessed these wonderful, magnificent beasts for the first time, they couldnât keep such a knowledge to themselves, no. And I was beside myself with it, Greatwing was all I couldâve hoped for in an ally.
We set off, searching for our young Borlahn. The passing of time felt slow, as if the hours dragged, splitting off as we reached the great waterfall of the Verrall. I took to the west, navigating the many crags and over-looks thatâd span that weathered mountain range. Upon coming across a small opening; a cave nestled between a few blustered pine.
For whatâd looked to me like the tracks of a Gryphon, I wasnât at all hesitant to enter - striking up a prepared torch as I did. Greatwing accompanied me and we both ventured inside. I can recall the smell, vividly, a mixture of dried blood, age-old leather and rotten food. The caution of Greatwing shouldâve alerted me when the smell didnât, but I was foolish and stubborn. Calling out for Borlahn I had hoped for this ordeal to be settled, to hear the call of the lad and for everything to be alright again.
I was wrong.
My calling was a heavy-footed approach to such a situation, unknown to me, waking whatâd laid sleeping after a gluttonous feast. They awoke with a fierce and renewed appetite, a small gathering of Ettin. I turned frantically, navigating the moss-covered corridors of that cave, loosing memory of the exit by the minute. The hulking brutes, swinging wildly with their make-shift weaponry. Their lack of control brought havoc to the interior of their lair, bringing down the ceiling around us all - crushing all but myself and Greatwing.
As the dust settled, I remember opening my eyes to darkness - darkness, all but for a single strand of light no bigger than my fist piercing the veil. A singular, most welcoming strand of daylight. We were stuck it seemed, surrounded on all sides by a mass slide of heavy rock and shingle. I tried a good few times to haul what I could, but I thought against my judgment to save my strength. Iâm glad that I did.
Minutes turned to hours, hours quickly turned to days. I knew this purely from the singular beam of light, gathering my bearings on whether it shone through or not. Before we knew it, three days had already passed. My waterskin was all but down to the last drops, savouring all I could - Greatwing began to stop taking water. Food? Food was just as scarce, I had bagged a modest amount for a short venture, but between beast and I, it wouldnât last.
By day we sat opposite one another, Iâd talk aloud to Greatwing - though of course sheâd not talk back. But by night weâd cuddle together, I could start to feel her ribs beneath both hide and feather, desperately thin. I remember waking upon the sixth or seventh night, famished and fantasising over water. I remember her eyes glistening in the abyss, her face overbearing me as sheâd nudge me with her beak. During the day sheâd remain close, for what Iâd assumed playfully sheâd nip at my legs and boots. But my starved mind began to betray me, as I fear it would soon Greatwing.
The tenth morning I awoke, Greatwing was already up - facing me, her eyes tired as her head beckons closer. I believed in that moment I was going to die. That her hunger had finally overtaken her love, sheâd glance up and about my person, calling out - deafening at such a close range, despite her raspy dry tone. Unknown to her I had been sitting upon a jagged stone, for the last two days I was prepared for what needed be done - my heart fell heavy. I didnât give her a chance to attack first, brandishing the stone I bludgeoned her head. Our bodies starved and frail, I didnât stop until the deed was done, until she writhed and twitched no more.
I killed her.
I discarded the bloodied stone across the room, disgusted and hollow. Finding then the tears from my dried husk to cradle the quiet body of my dearest friend. But my mourning was short lived, I could feel the floor move - the back wall of stone dislodge and shift. Iâd cower, shielded my eyes from the blanket of dust.
I remember a distinct voice of someone who Iâd thought I would never see again. Grahda and Olgan had found me, twig-thin and on my last legs. Borlahn was in tow, heâd circled back that same day afterall - having returned to our home to have found us gone, out looking for him. Despite all thatâd come to pass, I couldnât hold him responsible for what I had done.
And then I sank down deep within my very soul, for I had realised Greatwing was not going to attack me at all, no. She mustâve been calling out to the noises beyond what I couldâve sensed. She was ready to protect me, ready to defend me should it had been a monstrous Ettin having found his way in to our stone sanctuary. And in my haste, I all but ended her life for it. A tidal wave of shame washed over me, shame and guilt.
Greatwing was loyal to the very end, I shall never forget her. In fact, I have kept her talons as tribute to her unyielding friendship. A small chain link binds them all, a most sacred trinket to me.
And every time in my life since, should I had to have made an impacting choice. I would never do so out of haste again, I would clutch her talons close to my heart and take a moment, understand all of my options before deciding.
This is what I ask of you, my darlings. You will be faced with difficult decisions in your life, for that I have no doubt. But be wary of haste and recklessness, understand your options and trust in your better judgement.
Remember the sacrifice of Greatwing the Loyal. You must be better than I, my most beloved children.
Weâre currently back around Kirthaven for the moment, recuperating and on the look out for any able-bodied Wildhammer or Bronzebeard! So if youâve ever fancied bit of top shelf Dwarf RP, swing by and see what weâre all about!
We shanât be idle for too long, mind! Clan Stormheart and their flock will be needed soon enough.
âA grim tale has reached me ears oâ a most sinister foe, festering within them crags nâ dusty ravines oâ those Stonetalon Mountains. Though a hearty distance may âet be, mâkin. We shanât leave our allies ta deal witâ this âere menace alone! So make ready me flock nâ saddle a-plenty. Weâre off ta KalimdorâŚâ
Storm clouds gather. The time to ride or die approaches
Yesterday Clan Stormheart arrived in the far off Stonetalon Mountains, where trouble is brewing deep in the red rocks⌠Let us see where we end up at!