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  1. "Do you remember? When we were free, when the Earthmother ran her fingers through our manes with each gust?" Full name: Ankoba Earthwhisper (Fr. Warhoof.) Age: 33 Race: Tauren Gender: Male Hair: Brown Skin color: Lightbrown/white mottled. Eyes: Blue Height: 8'0 Weight: 550 Place of Residence: Wandering, at the behest of the Earthmother Birthplace: Somewhere in Mulgore, prior to the settling of Thunder Bluff Languages: Orcish, Taur'ahe Occupation: Shaman (fr. Brave) Likes: Fishing, the wilds, spice bread Dislikes: Goblins, large cities, a disrespect of nature Hobbies: Swimming, hiking, the occasional plant tending Special abilities: Survivalist- a keen nature of what the Earthmother offers for natural healing. Physical description: A kind face and sweeping horns, for a shaman, his hide bares many a divot and scar that suggest he may have been quite the fighter at one time. History: Born to a pair of Braves while the Tauren were still nomadic, his parents swore themselves- And a young Ankoba- to the security of Cairne Bloodhoof and Thunder Bluff. A rambunctious calf, Ankoba excelled at his training. A promising young Brave, sent to Taurajo in his teen years to shadow older guards and learn the way. All things, all good things, come to an end, however. Not even the Tauren were immune to the horrors of the war between the Horde and Alliance. Returning from a hunting trip, they were stopped in the flickering lights of the blaze that ate away at Taurajo. A heated battle, screaming civilians. Something struck his head, and he was left to burn. But something spoke to him, cradled him. "Come back to us, Ankoba. There is so much yet to be done. So much to be tended to." Ankoba awoke with a startle. This was not Taurajo. He had been dragged to safety, taken back to Thunder Bluff. He would no longer be fighting, not with his injuries. He relayed what he had heard to the medicineman that tended after him, and was soon set upon by a shaman's circle, asked if he might want to join, learn the ways of the elements, how to harness and commune. It came naturally to the bull, and he found his calling. He left his former name there in the mud and blood with Taurajo. Earthwhisper. His anger, however, would still best him. In Stonetalon, with a group of equally upset young shaman, they came together, they wailed at the destruction, called upon the elements, the storms and rain, driving winds- They called a deluge of rain to wash away the logging camps, those that might disturb the Earthmother's peace. Fugitives from Garrosh's Horde, logging disrupted, Orcs and Goblins washed away, drowned and crushed under their equipment. Ankoba Earthwhisper, Speaker of the Great Rain Dance. His whereabouts, though debatable, trace him to a tribe clinging to life in the Thousand Needles.
  2. It's been a bad day. One of the worst I've had in a while. I fumbled everything. I literally fell off the ground. That I'd happened to land amidst a small group of people, one of which I knew, well that turned out not to be all that great either. I ate... of course I ate. Over the last few days, I have not been satisfied until I was near to bursting and then, the pain of it finally drowned out the craving. The all-encompassing need to consume, to chew, to swallow, to fill. Some of the time I had to access to real edible food. Sometimes I was not so lucky. I've eaten pinecones. Tree bark. Dirt. Things no rational animal would. But they fed me, Lilliana and her friends, with real meat, and I managed to catch a few fish. Then the bitch gave me some brew that sets you on fire when you drink it. I was clever enough to figure out the way of it. Drink like a dwarf, they suggested. So I did, and stubbornly drank two more. I was thirsty. If you chase the sulfuron slammer with another drink, it puts out the flames almost instantly. Still, SHE SET ME ON FIRE. I don't think its funny. I hate the flames. It's one of those days. So I decide that maybe its a good day for a drink. The Cantina is tonight, I'm pretty sure, and I'm hungry. Lilliana reminded me, and I want to go and watch. She is much stronger than I expected, and I need to plan carefully. Maybe she will be there. A good predator observes their prey for weakness. I go to the boat. Instead of the nice troll bartender, there is a goblin that greets me instead. But there are other trolls. A new male I have yet to charm. Maybe he will ply me with drinks in exchange for the vague hope of sex. Maybe he will feed me. The goblin asks me what I want. I tell her anything but a slammer. No more fire for me! She hands me a drink that warms my very soul, in a fuzzy round coconut half. It is extremely sweet and clings to the lips, allowing me to savor the taste of it instead of merely gulping it down to feel my throat work. Tahzani shuffles by, busy in his rounds, but tells me to make myself at home, so I do. There is an absurdly large driftwood chair set up like some kind of beach throne, sheltered beneath a canopy umbrella. I claim it, and survey the kingdom of the deck from this position of leisure. Why had no one claimed this spot? It is fantastic. The other troll watched me travel to the chair, which also happens to be right next to him. It is perfect. "Well, hello dere." He puts his mug down to greet me. I smile at him, and he returns a strange, coy sort of smirk. This is the start of the mating ritual that he doesn't know is doomed to fail. "Hi back at ya. Who you be?" I question him. On the other side of the boat, a forsaken in an absurd hat begins loud introductions. He is tailed by a young orc child, and seeing them irritates me immediately for some reason. Still, I have the troll's attention fully. He continues to smile, "Ah be Harkinic." He rises to his feet, and bows down quite low in an exaggerated display to me, "And who joo be....?" His eyes roam up and down my form. I play the game. "Who ya want me to being?" Harkinic settles back down on his haunches, lifting his mug into a big hand, "Joo be who joo want, ah would be hoping." He responds gruffly, still eying me. The undead pirate is apparently one of the purple ones. He goes greeting his 'commodore' at the opposite railing, which is fine by me, as it adds distance between us. "I be called Derecho, most often," I tell my potential sugar daddy, and I add a smirk for good measure. "Da who joo really want da be?" He returns the expression, his face easily sliding into it. He's mine. I don't really have to play anymore. I tell him honestly "It be not mattren none too much what I be wantin now-days." I shrug, not quite sure why I told him that. Voices from across the deck snatch my attention. Two pandaren sit in the corner behind the wind gauge, and the male said something about food for certain. "Joo be needing a drink?" Harkinic asks me. He finishes his in a big gulp for the excuse to summon the bartender for more. "Sure ting," I agree. The pandas are still discussing a feast. My mouth waters. My companion summons the goblin, who comes over as she's hollaring that the bears won't be fed unless they pay up-front. It seems the two have just met and are in a courtship dance much like I am. He wants to double an order already placed for himself. I hope they've paid. Tahzani receives the request as he's halfway up the ramp with food. His arms are laden on both sides with layered and heavy dishes piled high, and his brow runs with sweat from having been preparing them below in the hot galley. He receives the updated order silently, though I see his eye twitch. Ever the gracious one, he says he'll have it done right away, and he carefully hands over what he has so far. I don't think they even noticed the tone used or the slight hesitation. Tahzani works very hard. I don't like these pandas. I am distracted when the goblin, whose name I've heard is Bayonnii, breaks my line of sight, finally summoned by Harkinic. "Ya need a drink, or..?" "Hells yes!" I cry, as he presses coins into her hand and tells her not one with fire. The new drink is no where near as satisfying as my first ones, but they are wet. I'm disappointed, but I lie and thank him anyway. Tahzani returns, again looking like an overburdened pack animal. I stare at the bears and their hugely excessive feast. I hate them, but I want what they have. My stomach clenches without sound, demanding. I wait until Tahzani has unloaded everything extra at the panda's table before waving to summon him. He shuffles over, assuming I have an order. "Everybody good heah?" comes his question, automatic. "Tahzani," says I, "How ya doin?" Instead of answering, he asks "Jah two okay ovah heah?" I think we are, so I say so to put his mind at ease. He takes it as his cue to leave. "Aight. Lemme know if jah need anytin' den" I'm irritated. "Ya lady mate be trouble!" I call. "Capital-like Tee." He stops two-thirds of the way through the automatonic query to other patrons. "Pardon me?" "Ya girl. Shhe been actin up. ...hic!" The hiccup surprises me completely, and I find it both funny and strange, this uncontrolled flux of my diaphragm. For a brief moment I'm intrigued by the shift of my insides, and then I feel bad for antagonizing Tahzani. My pettiness subsided, I want to apologize. "I be not knowin if ya want be knowin, so I done told ya." I don't quite manage it, see. Tahzani just stares at me dully, " Tanks fah de news." My ire rekindles, but not at him. For the woman that caused such a lacklust of passion in this troll. Lilliana. I have another motive, as if I needed it. Maybe he's working too hard? Maybe he just needs to sit and relax and not be a bartender or mate to a three-faced bitch. Maybe he needs a break. I peer at him, realizing this. "Ey!" I beckon and wave him over again. He comes to call like a slave. "Ya got de otha one to sherve, be talkin wit me a bit? Ya sheem down." "...Aight." But then Bayonnii leaves. In the corner, the pandas have gorged and fallen out into sleep. I know well how their energies have radically been diverted to the task of digestion. I want to stab them and steal what's left before they wake and finish it. The elf commander is even surprised. "I've heard the phrase "food coma", but..." The drastic change from feasting to hibernation has an odd effect on the pirate. His voice has been grating the whole time, but now he's frantic and even louder. He starts yelling about poison, which is of course a direct insult to Tahzani's cooking and hard work. Tahzani grunts and shrugs a shoulder at me, moving to the other side of the boat as he hears the commotion. I knudge Harkinic. "See? Dis be why I got no job. Lookit him." Tahzani has to explain to the idiot pirate that what has happened to the pandas is completely normal for their species. I listen, looking to see if perhaps I can swipe some of their feast for myself in the distraction. I decide to try. I get up and go over as the undead yells again. "IT BE POISON!" "Oh shut de fuck up!" I scream at him. It makes no sense to me. "Ya be dead already, what ya be carin fo? ...hic!" as I head across the deck. Harkinic's eyes track me. I squeeze between the elf commander and the wind gauge carefully inserting myself near to the table. "They's down fer tha count! See?" I don't see. The male has reawoken already from all the noise, and he tries to tell the lunatic pirate to hush in deference to the female's continued slumber. He might notice if I just grab a handful of his food and try to run with it. Instead, I nudge at the girl panda within reach. "Ey. Ya be dead?" This produces a sleepy lick of the lips and a stretch, proving she is obviously still among the realm of the living. I feel that if I don't add something to my stomach, I might soon enough not be. My patience is wearing precious thin. "Dere. Ya be seein? Breathin fine. Not dead. Shut. Up." I glare at the stupid pirate. This comment is apparently the first he notices of my presence, distracted as he was with his own blustering. He looks at the speaker, me. "...Egad! Robby take cover! IT BE A SEA WITCH! She'll curse us an' drag us down ya Jonesy Dave's locker!" The little orc child promptly panics as instructed. I find this hilarious. What a fantastic distraction! I encourage it, raising my hands curled into claw-fingers. I hiss in my best sea-witch impersonation at the man, then cackle at the ridiculousness. This play-acting has quite an interesting and unintended effect on the panda bears. Evidently, they are not smart enough to recognize the joke, or perhaps too disoriented from sleep. They believe it! The girl jolts fully awake and shrinks back some. She grabs her hat and wraps it around her like a child's security blanket. The male completely freezes with a full roll of sausages dangly in his hands. I want them so. I turn my gaze on him. He swallows. "I can be havin one?" I ask him, quite enjoying this little over-lording. Still, I did ask, rather than demand. He stammers, agreeing, but rather than give up the prize in-hand, I get piping hot fresh sausages pulled from his bag. I cheer, extremely happy at my good luck, and I remember to thank the bear too. I retreat with my prize. I don't even care about the dwindling commotion, or the insulting title of sea witch. The Sanctuary mistress departs. The pandas stare at me in fear. I don't care. I have food. I return to my chair with it, gnawing already. The sausage has a grainy texture that is a pleasure to chew and break apart with the tongue, and is hot enough to make avoiding scalds while doing this a challenge. Harkinic grins to me, "De Derecho returns." He points out at the same time that a new troll is over there, across to the stern, waggling his eyebrows at him. I continue eating, watching for a moment. It becomes clear that the new male is trying to steal Harkinic. My territorial instinct runs wild. To say I am possessive would be an understatement. This new guy directly challenges my primal rights! I can't leave it be. The panda girl flinches when I get up, then relaxes at my trajectory. Harkinic chuckles, knowing what's about to happen, likely. I walk over. "Hi dere." The challenger looks up at me and smiles, "Ayh beautiful! Ayh dun tink we met afore, ayh?" I am in no mood for pleasantries. "Ya be talkin a good talk, but ya see, I been findin him first.Ya hear?" I glare at him, sizing him up and the warning in my tone is more than clear. "Ayh like both da laydayh an mons, ya know? If ya dun wan m' after 'im, ayh wun do nuthin more. Wha 'bout m' luck w'tcha lovely, though?" He winks at me, thinking himself rather sly. "Go be handy wit yaself, ya done pissed me off already." I'd like to hook my finger into that winking recess and feel the pop of loosening his eyeball. "Aww, dun be like dat, we be chill 'ere. Nah tryin nuthin harm." It takes a great deal of my willpower to not leap at him. I spin on my heel toe and stomp off, though. harkinic wears a rather superior smirk, unable to hide the arrogance at observing me return to him. I slam into my chair then turn a sweet smile onto him when he supplies me with another full mug of drink. Nice guy. Mollified, I had neglected to notice a huge tauren arrive. Gigantic, he is! I blurt such "Ya be a behemoth." Harkinic snickers, "Ah dunno tink dat one can help dat....." One of the druid's ears moves toward me betraying that he heard. At the comment his head lowers some, attempting to make himself seem smaller. Harkinic cackles, "Joo done hurt his feelings." He eyes the oversized tauren with a high level of deliberate assessment, "Joo were rathah right tho...." He says regarding the tauren's exceptional size. "Didn't be meaning to." I notice the hunch too. "Awwwww, don't be like dat. It be a good ting! Ya be big an strong!" I try to reassure. I'm sure it would have the opposite effect if I told him he could feed a village for a week, but the thought crosses my mind. The tauren rubs the side of his neck at my attempts to soothe. Still, he steps back to not be in the way of a new arrival. As his huge frame moves, the ramp becomes fully visible. I recognize the elf standing there. I can't help glaring. I fucking hate him! He's going to die.
  3. The call has been sent out for Tauren of all tribes to gather under the Golden Bull once more, and the message is simple: The Horns of the Shu'halo answer the calls of Thunder Bluff. We safeguard our culture, our way of life, and our lands from any that would threaten them. This includes our place in the Horde and her cities across all of the lands. Breygrah Ragetotem has again taken up the mantle of Chieftain and brothers and sisters young and old are welcome to join us in service to our people. Meet on the Elder Rise in Thunder Bluff in the Great Tent before the bonfire on the 8th bell Monday evening. OOC: Monday 7/18 at 8pm server time, come join us at our gathering in Thunder Bluff. <Horns of the Shuhalo> is a heavy RP guild for tauren and by tauren. Only partially a recruitment drive, Breygrah has sent the call to gauge interest in the Horns, who had been a staple of Ravenholdt Roleplay and PvP since nearly the server's commencement. Tauren that want to join are welcome. Tauren that don't know, or know that they won't want to join are welcome. Any other (Horde) race that just wants to see what's going on are welcome. Join us for RP before the patch hits! Anyone with questions (IC or OOC) can contact Breygrah-Ravenholdt in game through whisper or mail, PM here on TNG or in Discord, or through at Burger#1497
  4. until
    Get together and discuss what we are doing. Need some help with something? Have an idea? Bring it to the bonfire before Baine on the High Rise. This is an informal meeting and all of the Horde's peaceful citizens are welcome to attend.
  5. Those appointed Horns of the Shu’halo by Cairne, and now his son Baine, have come and gone over the years, but they have never quite gone away. They have always aimed to preserve the Shu’halo way of life for their own continued prosperity, and for a high quality of life of future generations. If they were not to take on the mantle of preserving their world and way of life, who would pick it up? Breygrah Ragetotem has again lifted the old banner of the Horns, and seeks anyone that hears the call. Whether it be by word of mouth, postings in various major settlements, the draw of nature or the whispers of the spirits, any and all tauren are welcome to claim the colors and shout to the winds that they will persevere. For the Shu’halo, and for the Horde. The Horns have been a staple of Ravenholdt roleplay since May 2007. Their presence has of course waxed and waned over that time, but they have always remained. We are a heavy roleplay guild and we accept tauren characters of any level, since our main and true focus is and will always be roleplay though raiding and PvP are always options for the future. Any in-game or composed tauren tribe is welcome, as we are representative of tauren people and not a single tribe as a whole. We are still small when it comes to active members, but our numbers have already grown quickly! We welcome any sort of personalities, so long as their IC goals are aligned with ours and they show no aggression towards other members of their fellow Horde. Keep in mind that does not mean your characters must like everyone, or even be nice! We only expect the players behind the characters to be considerate, mature individuals that respect the others they interact with. We have no initiation process, aside from being required to attend a roleplay meeting with at least three other full members. This goes for alts of people that are already members, because our goal is to inspire roleplay and character interaction and development. Anyone that has questions or is interested in joining us, even merely participating in our meetings and events can whisper Breygrah-Ravenholdt in game, send an in-game IC letter of interest, or show up to any of our IC events. Don't forget to /join RP to see when we announce our activity!
  6. until
    All that hear the call are to gather in Thunder Bluff on the Elder Rise at the eight bell.
  7. Amietia

    [H] Stickball

    Anejodi, or stickball, is a traditional full contact Shu'halo sport. Anejodi is a shu'halo word meaning "little brother of war" and is a game invented during a dark time in tauren history when tribes still warred on one another. The game taught younglings to work together, to not fear injury in close combat, and improved hand-eye coordination before they were old enough to ride in true battle. Today, the games are still held at least once during the year to solve minor tribal disputes, to bring the community together in friendly competition, and to remember an important part of racial history. Typically the first games of the year are held the evening of the first full moon on or after summer solstice. These games are often the most important, and most highly attended, for disputes are often solved through this full-contact and often bloody pastime. Some tribes only host games on this night, while others continue the tradition of summer-long competitions. Regardless of which method a tribe chooses, the rules are simple and widely agreed upon without deviation. The game field can be any size with two goal posts, one at either end (One traditional location can be seen outside Thunder Bluff, where the grass is still reluctant to encroach upon the bone-shaped field though the original goal totems have long since decayed away. The Darkmoon Faire sets up their portal here once a month.). A small rock that is padded in linen and then stitched in hide serves as the game ball, and is no bigger than a closed fist. Anejodi sticks are specially crafted in the old traditions. As long as a player's arm, with one end worked and bent back into a loop which is then stitched across to form a netted cup, these are jealously guarded weapons that may not be used for any other purpose. Players may use any natural means necessary to stop the opposing carrier and take the ball themselves (punching, biting, stomping, tackling). Magical abilites are strictly forbidden! Male players may not strike women with their sticks. Female players have no such restrictions, and may also carry the ball with their hands. Players move the ball across the field and score when they either strike the goalpost with their stick while the ball is cradled, or if they manage to fling the ball from a distance and strike the post. This either ends the game, or resets the field to center if a certain number of matches has been agreed upon. It is considered a trick to pass the ball to another player, and cowardly to dodge an opponent. Each player participating must buy their way in with a wagered item. In current times these can be simple momentos or tokens, but in historical matches between entire tribes, the items wagered were often of incredible value. A player's bet can be anything- that they will be the one to score, that they may cause the most injuries in a game, or sustain the least, that they will be the best defender...etc. Any item wagered may be selected by a player winning their bet, otherwise the items are returned to their owners at the end of the game. Occassionally if a larger game is hosted by a tribe, items wagered may be considered gifts to the host and kept for their benefit. OOC: Players must use a specially-crafted Anejodi stick to play. Priests, Warlocks, Mages, Monks, Druids, Hunters, Shaman and Warriors may use a Quarter Staff purchased from the weapons vendor in Thunder Bluff. This is a white item that does not bind, so your host can and should pass these out to you. ROGUES, PALADINS, and DEATH KNIGHTS cannot use staves. These players should purchase their own Apple-Bent Bough offhand weapon for 168 gold from Legacy Justice Quartermaster Rugok in Orgrimmar (requires level 85). Alternatively you can quest in Azshara for the Chopped-Off Ancient Limb mace (level 9), or search the auction house for a dropped Giant Club mace or the dropped Runic Stave and Runic Cane offhand weapons. ROLLING RULES: Everyone begins at 100 life, and rolls a regular (1-100). Rolling within 5 of max life is a natural critical (special). 1-5 is critical fail- you injure yourself. If your roll is lower than half of the highest roll, you become injured (if the highest roll could be 100 then injury occurs by rolling 50 less than the highest actual roll in that round). Injury- occurs in steps of 10. Example- If you are injured once, your life drops to 90 and you roll (1-90). You cannot be healed, and your rolls are reduced the rest of the game. The game flows as follows: 1= POSSESSION- everyone goes for the ball! Everyone rolls, the highest roll wins the ball and carries for their team. 2a= TACKLE- everyone rolls. Higher than the ball carrier is a successful attack against them. Don't forget if you don't win versus the carrier you can emote on opposing teammates not carrying to block them if they also rolled a failure. A team moves across the field for each tackle phase. They must move 4x from the center to be within their goal range. If the opposing team manages to gain the ball, they must reverse across the gained ground and then do their own 4x to their goalpost. 2b= Drop? The carrier rolls for each successful attack in a tackle phase to see if it causes them to drop the ball [less than half their life total is a drop]. If the ball is dropped, there is a new fight for possession. 3= GOAL?- 5th Tackle from center. Just like a tackle phase, everyone rolls. The carrier must score highest to not be considered blocked. If blocked, they roll as normal to see if they keep possession or drop. If the carrier rolls highest on a goal phase, they score if their roll is higher than 50% of their life total and the game is ended. If a certain number of matches has been agreed on, the ball is instead reset to center to start the next match. If lower than 50%, they miss somehow, and play is continued. (In some smaller games or games among very young children, a missed goal attempt also results in the ball being reset to center, rather than requiring the opposing team to gain possession and fight across the whole field to reach their own goalpost. This decision is up to the players or supervising adults.) See an example game from 2015 HERE
  8. Lomani stands beneath the larger of two pine trees at the game grounds, grateful for their cooling shadows. She looks around. The stack of sticks she has made is on the ground, ready to be passed out. Lomani herself would be using the one made by a shy elf she'd met in the Brokenspear tavern. She wonders idly if she had managed to help the socially terrified man at all. She hopes so. Out in the sunshine following his nose, her kodo ambles without care. His saddle is loosened, and he has not a thing to worry about. Unlike her. As usual, Lomani feels a fluttering within the pit of her stomach, like butterflies swirling, trying to escape. It has been several months since last she has stood before a group of people to lead them in anything. It will pass, she knows. A cheerful little chirping noise draws her attention down. His expression ever attentive somehow, Kanunu the yellow-bellied bullfrog regards her. She smiles at him. "I know, it will fine. It always is. You weren't here yet, but you should have seen last year's Green Corn run. And Great New Moon. Those were all wonderful events, this will be too." Lomani looks over the grounds. The grasses have still not managed to encroach much on the anejodi fields. Shaped rather like a bone, there are two small round fields, with a dirt track well-worn between them from epic larger games generations passed. The Darkmoon Faire had asked for and received permission from the Shu'halo to use this place for their carnival in years passed, and they still erected their banner here once a month to send folks through a portal to their island. Lomani wonders how many Shu'halo her age even know of the original purpose of the large patch of grassless dirt. Butterflies flutter in her tummy.. Kanunu chirps again. "You're right. Just listen to it one more time, please? I do not wish to falter before them. Some of the elders will surely remember, and they will know an error." Lomani begins pacing and, as she had done three times before, practices her pre-game speech. "Welcome! So nice to see you here... Chieftain, you're looking well... Ahem. When you are a person who belongs to a community, you have to know who you are. You have to know who your relatives are, and as a tribe we have to know where we came from..." "With all things and in all things, we are relatives. It is with happiness and pride that I look on the faces gathered here. Of my Brothers and Sisters..." Lomani stops her slow pacing and pretends to look in the eyes of various Shu'halo that had come to play. "...of the Horde who are with us today...." The seer smiles and nods to the imaginary non-tauren. "We are all allies." "Tonight is the first full opening of Mu'she, the moon, since the passing of summer solstice. The Earth Mother's eye looks widely upon us, and so today is the traditional first day of Anejodi, the stickball games. Anejodi or anistusti are Shu'halo words, they mean 'little brother of war' or 'little war', which is what a stickball game is. There was a time in our long history when our varied tribes did not get along, and we warred amongst each other." Lomani pauses and looks at Kanunu. "It is easy to be brave from a distance. Anejodi games were held throughout the summer months to hone skills needed in combat, to teach our youths not to flinch from danger, and fight bravely with an enemy before them. While we are ashamed of those times, it is important to remember where we came from. Anejodi is played today as a game not to prepare for war, but to bring the community together, to inspire friendly competition and provide a controlled outlet for built-up frustrations. It-" Behind the trees, Lomani's kodo raises his head. The seer turns to find a familiar old friend walking up. Practice is over. "Mersee!" Lomani cries happily. The priestess waves, but she rushes over to embrace the small elf in a hug instead. Khorvis arrives on his mount, and the two priestesses wave a warm greeting to him. "Greetings Khorvis!" "I brought my two best sticks, bring it." the elf says in a spirit of competition. The Grim orc grunts back. "Throm'ka." Khorvis snorts and dismounts, sending Bes'thra away to graze. "Lomani? I need a bookie of sorts, I need you to physically hold my items for betting. No pockets in these pants." She smiles at Mersee as her friend brings out four enchanted cages. Inside each is a healthy well-cared-for animal. "If you wish. Pets? How lovely!" Lomani sets the cages off to the side, in a safe spot. She looks at Khorvis as he flips a bottle over end and hands it to her by the neck. Peaked Dalaran red wine. "I think, with those muscles, Khorvis might inflict the most damage. Perhaps that will be my bet." Her elf friend eyes Khorvis up and down as the seer asks "Will any other Grim be coming for an evening of silly games, inquisitor?" "May be, Horn. I do not run their personal lives of leisure. Though if I do see a Supplicant in the games, they had best be finished with their task!" Lomani sets Khorvis' bottle of wine in the pile with the pets. Her own bottle of Skyreach Sunrise is already there, and she smiles at the likeness of her mind and the orc's. Mersee licks her lips as wine is added to the spoils. Lomani says nothing to Khorvis calling her a Horn. In her mind, she will always be one, even if the colors are put away. It is a fairly recent change for her to be wearing instead a silvery white tabard graced with the sunburst rays, and for the game she isn't even in a tabard at all. She is wearing long-sleeved athletic clothes of white trimmed in green, her favorite color. A pair of green-tinted goggles she'd found recently will protect her eyes. She likes them very much. "If not, perhaps they would benefit from a fist upside the head?" Lomani says with a smile. Khorvis shakes his staff at the tauren mockingly. Mersee shivers beside him. Lomani holds up a finger. "Ah ah. You must use a special stick. She goes over to another pile, of sticks, and retrieves three. Mersee holds up a Shovel of Mercy. "This is a special stick. It says right here on the handle 'Bashes the head of a human. Do the right thing buddy.'" Lomani holds one out for Mersee. It is roughly arm-length, smooth except for a bent-over tip which has been fashioned into a rather small netted cup. The elf sighs at her. "If you insist." Mersee examines the crude anejodi stick. "I do." She smiles. "Khorvis, would you like one or two?" "Hand one over. I will test its balance." Lomani holds out a stick to Khorvis, who claims his new weapon and gives it a mighty swing, sending a dirt clot flying through the hot air of Mulgore's late afternoon. Mersee ducks behind her friend. "Hrm. Yes, my bet will be as I said- that he inflicts the most damage in a game." The seer nods solemnly. "Not bad. It does be made of aged briarwood from the Kraul?" Not certain, the seer says "The wood was donated from all over, but quilboar do have such handy thorns..." A troll crouching at ease in the shade lets out a soft chuckle at the tauren. "My bet.... that a lithe and intelligent game will allow me to be the one to score." Mersee nods at the seer.. "Aho! A lofty challenger." Lomani grins. Khorvis peels back a lip from his tusk. Lomani looks around, a little disappointed at the turnout. "Perhaps it will be a game versus just the two of you." "Stickball isn't for everyone Priestess." Mersee says comfortingly. Another familiar face descended on her flying mount. "Kiraleen! Welcome." Over in the long grasses, the troll observer slips from the shadows and stretches out comfortably. Lomani looks at him a moment, until his eyes roam back to her, and she beckons him over. Rakaganje offers the priestess a short nod but remains in the grass. He coils a few blades around his fingers. "Sorry I'm late." Kiraleen apologizes, "had to put Iantha in bed." She receives a greeting from Mersee, and Khorvis raises his chin to the newcomer. "Was she being fussy?" "Yes. Too many s'morcs, too much sun." Lomani holds out a stick to Kiraleen. "It is quite hot." Kiraleen nods. "Are you playing with us, friend troll?" the seer tries one last time. "Ahm heeah to watch." he replies, eyeing the women. "No' a bad view." Rakaganje offers her a small smirk. "So what are the rules of this game?" Kiraleen asks, holding her stick after looking at it. "I'm glad you asked." She looks around at the four gathered, hesitates just a moment, then asks "With such a small group, I feel I can be less formal here, unless anyone objects?" There are no Shu'halo present to object. "I certainly do not object to informality." Mersee says. "No, whatever makes you comfortable, Lomani." says Kiraleen. Khorvis adds "Ceremony do be reserved for the dead and my ale." "I like you, orc." she smiles at him. He grunts back. "Kiraleen, have you some object to bet? It can be anything small, but it is a custom for Anejodi that all players make a bet." "Hmm. Let me see." As the Outrider searches in her pockets, Lomani says helpfully, "Bet for your team to win, that you will be able to snatch and carry the ball, that you will cause your opponent to drop the ball... anything you wish, large or small." "... that you will score first." Mersee suggests. Kiraleen finds what she is looking for. "Ah! An amberjewel" Rakaganje watches Khorvis. He is fiddling with an eyepatch, putting it over one eye first, then the other. "The rules are as follows- sticks must be used to carry the ball across the field. You may use any natural means necessary to take the ball from your opponent. Push, hit, tackle, bite- but no magic! Men may not strike women with their sticks. Women may choose to use their hands to carry the ball if they wish." Lomani eyes Khorvis and his stick, realizing he is surrounded by women. Slightly unfair, that. Khorvis grins at her wickedly. "None? Not even a teensy magic?" Mersee asks. "No, no magic." The elf grumbles under her breath and puts away the Enchanted Broom. Lomani laughs at Mersee. "I had not planned to play, but we must be even teams." Kiraleen nods. "Choose a partner!" Lomani orders with a smile. Mersee looks at Lomani and silently sings 'Pick me pick me'. Team-choosing is delayed a moment though, when Lomani realizes Kiraleen and Khorvis still have not actually declared their wagers. "Kira, your bet?" "An amber jewel." Kiraleen holds out the small gem "And what is it you wager it for?" "Um.. What can we wager for?" the elf asks, uncertain. "I bet that I would score the first goal." Mersee shares. Rakaganje has a smirk that widens at the elf's remark. "I bet that Khorvis would deal the most damage. Yes, Mersee thinks she will make the score." Lomani nods at Mersee. She turns to place the pretty yellow jewel with the other items. "Hmm. I bet I'll score the second goal." Kiraleen says then. Mersee smiles at Kiraleen. "Oh goodness." "I do wager that I will break this briarwood stick." Khorvis bets. Rakaganje giggles at Khorvis. "A game this small will likely end with one goal. We can choose to extend it if we are not all bleeding..." Lomani begins. "All right." says Kiraleen. "It is considered a trick to pass the ball, and cowardly to dodge an opponent. You score and end the game when you strike the goalpost with your stick while the ball is cradled, or if your throw succeeds in the ball striking the post." Lomani points out the two poles they will be using for their game. Mersee eyes Khorvis. Her expression is a reflection of her thoughts as she contemplates the orc, thinking she should have bet that Khorvis would bust a goalpost. Oh well. She sighs. All numbers, no magic. Pffft. "So, basically get to a pole with the ball while everyone is trying to stop you." Kiraleen nods at the tauren's summary. Khorvis snorts. "This do be a simple game. Much like the shell game we did play on the shores of Zeth'kur. Though we did use axes instead of sticks." "The goal is to stop the carrier, not kill them, exactly." Lomani points out. Axes sound rather dangerous to her. "So... teams?" Kiraleen prompts. "We could roll for them?" Lomani shrugs. "I have no preference." "I do claim the young boy in the rags." Khorvis points at Mersee. Lomani snickered at her priest friend. "That's a woman." Kiraleen corrects. The Grim orc just grunts. "You and I, then, Lomani!" The seer nods, then looks to Rakaganje lying in the grass. He blinks back at her. "Troll, would you like to throw the ball to us, to make it a fair attempt for us all?" "Ah can." The grey tauren tosses the ball to him, a tiny little golfball-sized thing. He rolls it between his large fingers for a moment. It isn't perfectly round- likely a rock and some sort of padding beneath the stitched hide surrounding it. "Jah reddy?" Lomani readies her stick and nods. Mersee does as well. Kiraleen states "Ready." "Swobu." says Khorvis, apparently also ready. Rakaganje looks over at the Trolless sitting next to him and grunts a greeting. Rakaganje eyes the two teams. Then he grunts and lobs the small orb up into the center of the group. ((Stickball))