Given that Grimtotem do their things because they are Tauren supremecists first and foremost, it actually makes more sense for them to join an extremist Tauren-only (-mostly) religious cult than most.
Best of luck with the community : )
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Also i dont think the good folks of taurajo are keen with baine siding with those that sacked their village.
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This will be the last message I write. I can barely muster the strength to move my hand. This pitiful scroll will be the legacy of the Sandhoof tribe. I lost hope in our survival. The demons continue to relentlessly assault the entrance of our hideout, and I fear that our souls will soon fuel their rituals.
Some of my people have already ended themselves, to spare them from starvation. Mothers wither away, so that their child can numb the pain in their stomach with leather stew and moss.
I pray the Earthmother forgives me for leading my people to their doom. I pray they will forgive me. I pray out souls find themselves in the Skyfather’s domain, soon.
This was the last scroll the Adherents found, in the haunted cave. They came in search for allies that will help them forge the New Dawn. Instead, they found a gravesite.
The Sandhoof , once a tribe of brave explorers and clever nomads, had sealed themselves in a cave to wait out the Third Legion invasion. Their call for aid never reached Thunder Bluff, and their food supplies ran out before the army of demons lurking near the cave left.
For a long time, their spirits remained trapped in the cave. Until by accident the Adherents found them, and put them all to rest.
https://imgur.com/a/9WT9kcv
If you are interested in attending one of the Adherent events, whisper Apawi or Bearan ingame!
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Greengang approves. GO SUNGANG!
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Tauren extremist sunwalkers? I put a stamp of approval on this!
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The faces of his Night Elf captors stared up at him. So alike were their faces, he thought, to the paleness of Mu’sha they so revered. The two Elves discussed sharply in their native tongue what to do with him. He could hear the snap of anger in their voice; the lust for some form of punishment against him, as he sat chained, bound to an ancient Stonetalon tree pillared behind him.
It had been a week since Aaro Dustmane had set out into the wilds of Stonetalon, to seek vengeance on the Elves who had butchered his father. It had been at the burning of his father’s body, that he had sworn upon retribution against the Night Elves who had brought such anger, such sorrow, and such mourning into his spirit.
Yet he had let down his father’s soul, and his own pride, by allowing himself to be captured by the villains who he so desperately sought vengeance again. The humiliation, the fear, and the irony burned brightly within him - the hunter had become the hunted, and in turn had become chained.
His thoughts, twisted and mired in the swamps of disappointment and defeat, had distracted him. Yet the silence, the break from the Elves’ conversation, had brought him quickly and swiftly back into coherence. Looking up, he noted that the two had stopped talking - and had picked up their weapons. Elven glaives gleamed in the moonlight, as they raised them, ears perked. An intruder had stumbled upon their camp - the merest breaking of a twig had alerted their sharpened senses.
An animal, perhaps, had stumbled upon this story. Aaro squinted his eyes, peering into the shadows, searching.
Fire erupted between the trees. A thin line of flame, encompassing a greatsword. Light glanced against a Tauren, armoured in a deep, blood red, half hidden in the night.
Aaro kept his eyes shut tightly, as the sounds of conflict surrounded him. The fleeting windswept rush of flames, accompanied by the dull thud of a blade hitting flesh. As the younger bull opened his eyes, both Elves lay dead, and this new threat - or perhaps savior - stood before him, his face hidden underneath a heavy helmet. Only through the light cast by the Tauren’s flaming sword, could he catch but the merest of glimpses of its wielders eyes - old, stoney, and without compassion.
Breaking the chains, the man held a hand out for Aaro. Lifting him up to his feet, he presented the young bull an axe - old, rustic, and well-used. Aaro held the axe within his hand, and looked up, confused, looking for answers from the man who had free’d him.
“Vengeance has not yet been claimed. Elves still lurk within these mountains. Justice will be met. Come.”
The burning of the man’s flames become distant between the trees as the armoured Tauren walked between them, away from the Elven camp. With no other choice but to follow - axe in hand, and the fires of retribution stoked within his soul - Aaro Dustmane followed, in the hopes of finally finding peace for his father’s spirit.
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Black wings beat against the star-dotted canvas of the sky, eagle-eyed, Hrakk
scanned the plains of Mulgore until he found what he was searching for: the
Venture Co. mines. Left in disrepair after a brief visit by the Hand of Conquest,
if Summersnout was to be believed.
He flew in circles above the mines, looking for a good entrance. He had only
found two, the third had been collapsed by some Grunt or another, most likely.
The other two were boarded up, but he could see the dim light of a dying
lantern shining through gaps in the planks of the second entrance - if it could
be called that.
Without the boards it looked more like an easy way to get rid of employees
asking for a raise without any merit via a quick fall to their deaths. The
Grimtotem tucked in his wings and prepared for a swift descent, air rushing
past him and rattling his pristine feathers. He'd spotted a wooden beam jutting
out just above and to the side of his chosen point of entry and so, spread out his wings to bring his fall to a sudden stop.
A sharp pain shot through his wings and breast, this wasn't something birds
were supposed to do. But he was Grimtotem, he was born to be better and do
better. His talons took a hold of the wood after he'd landed and leaning
forward, he could see up close that the boarding up was done haphazardly.
Even as a rather large bird, he could fit through.
He waited for the light to disappear behind a corner before his talons loosened
from the wood and with a rapid beat of his wings, he dashed forward through
the gap, tucking in his wings once more. Now inside, his avian form wasn't as
useful and his feathers and hollow bones were shed for something more
suited to the dark.
Pitch black fur, razor claws and teeth like knives would take their place. His
eyes adjusted to the dark easily, what had seemed like dim light before was
now as if he was standing in broad daylight, if daylight had been washed so
many times it had lost its colour.
He stalked near the corner, his paw pads rendering him as silent as death
itself. Whomever was on the other side, walking back and forth with his
lantern, sounded clumsy to his feline ears. Gravel and crushed rock crunched
under his boots.
When he turned the corner, Hrakk sprung forth and clamped his jaws around
the dwarven man's neck and bit down, crushing his throat in his jaws. There
was the clatter of a lantern as the life seeped from bearded creature's neck,
glass cracked and light snuffed out.
There was the taste of blood and the sound of a final, rattling breath. The
feeling of satisfaction.
The bull in beast's skin had to remind himself what he was there for, the skull
of a wind serpent, unnaturally large. The Seer had told him it may be there or
not, but she would not send him there were it not real.
So he snuck and stalked through winding mineshafts, hiding from the light
when need be, tearing into greedy goblin, dwarves that dug too deep and
malodorous ogre alike until he found what he was looking for: a skull, bleached
and staring back at him with its empty eye sockets. This was it.
Summersnout would be pleased.
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“Here, inbetween a Thousand Needles, shall I bury my wisdom.” the ancient Seer spoke, many centuries ago, to no one in particular. A large brown bag, full of scrolls, books, and stone tablets, was covered with a layer of gravel and sand. “May it guide the ones worthy to be called my successors.” he scoffed, not believing those kinds of Shu’halo could even exist.
And it would take many years, before someone stumbled upon his treasure. It took a Cataclysm, and an Azerite eruption, before a lone Grimtotem hermit, came upon the unearthed cache.
Arraka Grimtotem realized how priceless her discovery was, and that many would come to seek the Blind Seer’s wisdom.
All she had to do, was find someone willing to offer the right prize.
And thus, the Adherents of An’she set out upon Apawi’s orders, to investigate the rumours regarding the discovery. After being found, the Grimtotem hermit named her prize; The remains of her son, last seen taken captive by the Centaur, shortly before the Cataclysm flooded their cave…
https://imgur.com/a/ONZQJyS
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If only Akule didn’t love Mu’sha as much as he does, I’d be there in a shot.
Any Shu’halo who want to temper the influence of these individuals who sour the name of An’she should unite and show these fanatics the wisdom of balance 
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Despite being An’she focused, we also have a Moon-Druid. Don’t let this post fool you, we love balance and aren’t fanatics, we swear.
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Its nice to see some more tauren Rp, thought dont think Shin would join this mainly because she already disgree’s with Apwai’s methods…
Also as a side note unsure if she would record this for her lorewalking dutys, it is tauren related thought and… she records all things tauren in books and scrolls. 
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On one hand, she should record it, considering it is Tauren lore and storytelling after all. Would she not write it down because these are stories told and lived by Tauren she does not like?
On the other hand, she can’t record it, because what happens during Adherent events is secretive and not public, unlike the OOC forum posts.
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She would still record it even if doesnt like someone as its tauren related, shes impartial on that part when comes to lore, camp fire storys and history. “If its tauren, it goes in the records”
It was ooc speculation as saying what she would do in such a situation.
Had so much fun in the last event… good Tauren-centric RP.
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Tomorrow, the Adherents set out to visit the Desolace Sunshrine, before travelling to Feralas, in search for a Runemaster who can translate some of the tablets recovered last week!
If you wish to tag along for this unique Tauren centered storyline experience, make sure to find Apawi as soon as you can!
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The event was top tier, liked it a lot! Anyone even remotely interested in sunwalkers/seers should definitely give this group a look-over.
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Tonight, the Adherents set out to bring their offerings to the Sunshrine in Desolace.
After asking An’she for his blessing, they went on a short journey to Feralas, where an old runeseer lived.
They found the denizens of Camp Ataya sick, slowly succumbing to a mysterious poison.
After investigation, it was discovered that a young green drake was the culprit. A taxing battle in air and on ground took place, and the beast was felled. Camp Ataya was cured.
Now, the Adherents have one of the Blind Seer’s tablets translated, which caused more questions than it gave answers…
"The Baubles, the stones which open the gate shall be shown when the Daughter’s Daughter is raised from the source of water.
Rain is fleeting. Water witch, guide us."
https://imgur.com/a/qy4cMLk
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