A turmulous day for the Horde! How this will affect the Adherents remains to be seen.
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Despite Seer Apawi’s fall, the work of the Adherents must continue. On sunday, they blindly follow where two dowsing rods will lead them.
“Rain is fleeting. Water witch, guide us.”
What mysteries will the faithful Shu’halo discover, this time?..
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Alas, one of our own has fallen. This will not stop the Adherents, for we will gladly spread An’she’s favour to all those who seek it.
Join the sun-loving extremists today!
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Yesterday night, the Adherents continued their task. Without Seer Apawi’s guidance, they were left on a dead end, with only a magical dowsing rod to lead them forward.
Stumbling upon an ancient well, they were met with a trapped spirit. The Mother. Three riddles, she presented them. Upon solving these, the spirit was freed.
Then, a second spirit was to be freed. The Grandmother, whose chains would be broken, once the Adherents managed to piece together the clay and stone offerings brought before the well.
Upon the release of the Grandmother, the Great Crone Appeared. A rotten, skeletal and warped husk of what was once an old water-witch. Before she could be put to rest, she claimed Sunwalker Nalesh’ life…
But the Sunwalker’s sacrifice was not in vain. Finally, the final prisoner of the well was released. Kalo, great granddaughter of the crone, haunted by dreams and visions that could lead the Adherents to their true goal…
https://imgur.com/a/g7TdrDa
"And after she crafted the world, and finished her long trek. She made a beautiful piece, around her neck.
A necklace, with baubles and stones. One of moon and one of stars, to herald the end of wars.
One of sun and one of the wilds, to soothe the pain of all her childs.
One of spirit, and one of rain, to rid her world of pain.
Six stones, the Earthmother’s necklace carried. Six baubles, in Kalimdor she buried."
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Do you recruit all classes or only solar themed ones?
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All Tauren classes except for Death Knights and Shadow Priests are welcome
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Roots broke underneath his hooves.
Water splashed up around him as he charged through the waters of Dustwallow.
The Old Bull’s thoughts were clouded. He could not think. He could not even bring himself to think about what he had done.
Images flashed across his mind’s eye. He ran. He was not sure where he was running to; but he ran as fast as his hooves enabled him to.
Omavi’s leg. Cleaved from it’s body. Limp on the floor.
Dustmane standing, crouched over, blood oozing from his stomach.
Hrakk staggered in pain, fur singed and burned.
All while the flames of the Direhorn camp soared into the air, the elements of fire rejoicing in the chaos…
All of this done by Bearan’s hand. By his sword. By his anger.
They deserved this. Bearan was lured into the marshes to be killed. This was a trick. He would not allow himself to fall to the schemes of those against the Horde so easily.
No. They would not do such a thing. They have assured themselves to be allies, many times before.
The Banshee was Warchief. The Old Bull had trusted her, and his loyalty was repayed in treason. Stone Guard Toq had been his friend, and his loyalty had been repayed in banishment from Orgrimmar.
He could not trust anyone. No one. Only the Horde. Only in the Horde could he put his trust. In the banner of red. If he focused on the Horde, if he focused on his duty, he could continue. He could continue fighting.
Bearan could run no longer. He collapsed onto his knees, his armour coated in mud, his helmet bathed in Omavi’s blood. Bearan could contain himself no longer, and wept on the ground, every sense of betrayal, every sense of abandonment, and every sense of shame in what he had done coming crashing into his spirit like a wave of icy water.
Alone, friendless, and trapped within his own suffering, ill mind, the Mad Bull sat paralysed by anger and fear in Dustwallow’s dark forest.
Well.
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I gotta find Bearan and save him… from himself.
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Tonight was eventful, to be sure.
What started as a simple search for a Grimtotem deserter, ended up with a swarm of swamp spirits luring the Direhorn into quicksand and drowning the all.
As if the marshes hadn’t seen enough death that night, Sunwalker Bearan suddenly turned against his friends and allies…
https://imgur.com/a/E8oQ6eY
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omavi lost a limb, bearan lost his mind, everyone else lost half their brain cells
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The same way you saved our Stone Guard, Apawi Summersnout?
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Tonight, the Adherents ventured to Highmountain. To discover the descendant of Sings-To-River, and discover the secret of the starry tapestry.
As always, things were harder than they could have been. Winona Riversong, heir to the musical legacy of her ancestor, Sings-To-River, had a sore throat, and could not perform.
What resulted in a long through through the mountains to gather medicine, such as honey, luckily ended in the bard being able to perform again…
The Hero of the Stars
Once lived one, wood would he carve.
Ensuring neither himself nor son would starve.Their lodge, nestled near the mountain’s hoof.
With wooden walls and with a hide roof.The son played and the father carved wood.
For many years, their humble life was good.But one day, father cut down a Harpy’s tree.
She screeched “This will not come free!”Upon his son, she cast a vile curse.
He could not be cured by either plant or nurse.After days, son was too weak to even cry.
Of this fever, the child would surely die.But father loved his son too much,
and would never surrender son to the fever’s touch.He prayed and begged for the Mother’s healing fountain,
But the Earthmother could not see him, in the shadow of the mountain.Father looked up and gazed at the stars,
praying that they could heal son’s scars.For a whole day and whole night,
father carried son up the mountain, without any fright.Through the freezing snow, father fought
while inside a basket, son was safely caught.Through the howl of winds, the voice of the winged banshee;
“Soon, son’s soul will belong to me!”As the night set, father reached the peak,
to the cloud of stars, he would speak."Lights of life. Jewels of skies
I stand here, before your many eyesCure my son of this ill,
and forever, I shall serve your will.Save my child from the beaked witch
and I shall do your bidding, no matter which!"Quiet is all that reached his ears,
and down his cheeks, started flowing tears.A teardrop froze, as it fell to the snow
where it began to brightly glow.Then, from the night sky’s starry cloak,
a gentle and sweet voice spoke."Save your son, I can not
But son’s soul must not fall to the harpy’s plot.Forever united, you can be.
Souls swimming in the starry sea.The stone of stars, you both must protect,
and the harpy’s curse will have no more effect."Father agreed, without another thought,
unsure of the results this deal brought.Soon, father and son were no more,
bound by the oath which father swore.Neither brave nor beast could find the remains,
for father and son were now on different plains.Even now, as you look up after the end of day.
In the stars, you will see father work, and son play.Forever, moons and stars they will guard,
as is told, in this tale by a humble bard.
https://imgur.com/a/UgCLG6k
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