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Under a blanket of stars...


Volonazra

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...Volonazra ceremoniously unwraps a crystal pipe adorned with gemstone, feathers, and hide. Next he opens a small pouch and produces some green herbs. He begins filling the pipe with the herb and sets it upon the grass. Next, he begins chanting while he uses his illusion dust to create a large circle upon the ground around the artifact. Occasionally glacing toward the council hall expectantly. Hoping to himself the elders can unravel themselves from the recent brujaha to join him.....

Circle complete, he mounds up some dreamdust in the center of the circle. He summons a small flame and throws it upon the mound. WHOOSHH! The ceremony has begun. Who will find the wisdom to join?

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Belaru has come to know that when that ol' Orc leaves as such, there is something a brewing....

::smiles to himself as he thinks on all of his friends with whom he has been spending his time of late, many in the very hall with him now....knowing he has spoken his peace and knowing he does all that his energy allows him too, he knows he needs a break sometimes....so he slowly rises from the circle, hoping to find a bit of peace awaiting him outside.... bows as gracefully as a battle hardend old warrior is able to, and takes his time walking out the door of the great hall....::

Eyes unfocused walking from the light out into the darkness of the night, Belaru spots a glow off to the distance a ways so he sidles over to it. Getting closer his suspicions were confirmed that good ol' Volonazra was out here preparing for the calm after the storm. Wise one he always was.

"I see you have been preparing for us, is there a spot out here for me old friend?"

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A nod and a grunt. Volonazra points to a place in the circle and waits for the massive Taurahe to take his place. Around him he sprinkles dust in a mystic outline....

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Upon seeing the flash of light, Flayer moves towards the door. He hasn't had much to say in the discussion with his mind being on other matters. In hopes of clearing his head to digest all the information he has heard, he heads outside. He beckons his loyal wolf Lucky to stand guard at the door while he moves toward the circle. All the while, he realizes how fortunate he is to know such worthy folks and how sure he is that all the conflict will be resolved.

_________________

Tauren Hunter

Pirates of Kalimdor

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Having already been out in the night tracking down children that needed a hug or an ear for their troubles, Kalea sees the light from the place where she sits thinking about her extended family.

She wanders over and bows to Volnazra, asking permission to join the circle.

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"mmm, here." He points the two toward very specific positions upon the circle and creates runes around them as well. Chanting all the while in some ancient language.

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Flayer listens and watches intently, careful not to disturb the warlock.

_________________

Tauren Hunter

Pirates of Kalimdor

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"Juzt one mur, den wez begin. Fibe am da numbar wez needin. Den ol' Vol be teachin yuuz a ritual uv spirit."

He goes about checking on his preparations. Perfecting, refining each detail like an artist would inspect a painting.

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Intrigued in the ways of magic since he was a child, it still has not lost it's mesemerizing quality of those things that one does not and can not understand but is fascinated by. Belaru sits, relaxing, watching to ritualistic ways of the warlock, amazed at it's simplicity and complexity all at the same time.

::nods and smiles to those that have found their way to their friend's circle, glad to have their company, then goes back to watching the ways of warlock::

_________________

Belaru

::Warrior & Bloodmoon of the Bloodmoon Chosen::

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Kalea sits quietly, listening to the sounds of the night and opening her spirit to the feel of Volnazra's magic.

The Shaman communicates with the elements their whole life for their magic, so they are used having their spirits touch things that can't necessarily be seen, heard or felt by all.

Volnazra's magic has a different quailty to it and, as she lets it enter her, she is curious to see how it weaves itself into the group.

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Liquidfyre spies her fiends sitting around in a circle. Skirting the edges of the group she listens as the old Orc welcomes them all. There is talk of spirits and the girl cow speaking of how she communes with the spirits.

"Ha, no one knows the spirits better than us trolls" she says to herself. Creeping closer to the group, she hunkers down and waits for the proceedings to begin.

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After the big debate in the hall Thatcher stretches out side and looks at the stars.

"Wow they look nice tonight."

With that he changes into his ghostwolf and starts running freely, until he gets a wiff of something sweet to his new found wolf nose. He runs in that direction and see his cousin with a few others sitting around a camp fire, with another sitting a little bit aways. Thatcher still in his wolf form moves infront of Kalea's feet and falls asleep on the grass.

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Looking up the old orc spys the wary troll. He beckons to a spot amongst the circle and once in position, finishes the fifth rune about her. Then makes a spot for the Thatcher amongst the gathering.

Nuw, lez begin.

He begins by spreading the burning dream dust untill the fire dies down to just smoldering embers. Which reveals the white-hot ceremonial pipe in the center. Standing to face the four he beats his chest once and raises his hand toward a cluster of stars. "Diz an ancent ritual uv mah ancezturz. It waz uuzed wen clanz lozt dere way, spiraled inta nub buh bikkerin, and lozt perspektive on wat matterz. Wat wez du iz tak uv da spirit pipe an giv honor ur rezpekt ta our bruddaz widin da circle. Wez den am sharin da same spirit. Diz mak uz strongar. Me go firzt, watch carefully."

He takes his position on the circle. Raises the pipe to Belaru and says: "Belaru, yuu are a guud leedar. Many dankz for habin da gutz ta tak upon da rezponzablity uv leadin uz againzt da denizen uv Molten Core agh da diabolical fiendz uv Zul'Gurub. Owr covenant am stronger for yuu being part uv it." He then places the pipe to his mouth, inhales deep, and forcefully exhales toward Belaru. Then hands the pipe to him, and nods affirmativly.

/ooc This is NOT to be a popularity contest. The idea is for everyones' contributions to be acknoledged. Try honor someone outside of your clan. That can/should be done at your camp, but ok if you dont know anyone other. Give positive support for what you are grateful for others doing/contributing/saying/loaning/humor/etc. (anything)

It is time to 1. focus on the positive, 2. share thoughts on what is going well and by who, 3. refocus on the RP of the MMORPG. Have fun.

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Looking up at Volonazra from his seated position by the circle of dying embers, Belaru warily takes the ceremonial pipe from the old orcs hands. Thinking of the numerous times a trusted shaman friend of his would rib him for never quite getting the knack of the smoking part of the smoking circle.

Belaru begins to reminisce as the warlock takes his seat again across from him.

"This old warrior has made many friends in his travels and seen many things, but almost always do those memories involve members of this here alliance. Some of my best laughs off of the battlefield have involved some of you sitting here with me as well. For one thing, I don't think I will ever forget this bridge of death in that evil infested place Zul'Gurub which managed to kill about as many people as the crazy smoking Bat lady did! But the best part about it I tell you, was seeing everyone work together to try to get in range to bring our fallen comrades back to us, then find themselves in that awful predicament of falling off the bridge as well to join our fallen friends! It was surely a sight to see, this man eating bridge, and provided us all with a moment we'll remember and laugh about, well, after everyone got a proper resurrection that is!"

Belaru leans forward and examines the crystal pipe a little closer, admiring the gemstones and adornment, wondering the origins of the beautiful piece of work. In his admiration, he takes a moment to smell the ritualistic herbs, slowly inhaling, then stops to think for another moment....

"You know, just a little while back, my little friend Rainz was getting into trouble again, trying to take some old Taurens tails in Thunderbluff she was! And to think, she thought we could just unattach them for her to see! Silly little troll that one is! Now the thing is, she just wanted to have a beautiful tail like Kalea and Boven had, seeing as she didn't have one and they seemed so proud of theirs. Well, she was telling me how Miss Kalea managed to make her feel special and made these wonderful purple ribbons that the girl loves so much, so that she could have an honorary tail for when she was with her Tauren friends! Leave it to that Kalea to make a little girl so happy and feel welcome even amongst those not her kind. You earned a special place in that troll's heart there Kalea as you have in so many of our friends'!"

Sitting back and relaxing for a moment, Belaru realizes there are just too many good times to remember....like the time he found the perfect happy fun rock to give to Flayer to make him an honorary member of the Chosen, and the time we had swimming races off the coast of Stranglethorn, or the time Mistress Morbida got a bit drunk with us at the Salty Sailor and was table dancing for us, and then there was this time that Belaru looked over his shoulder and sees this shaman he realizes is Lorgar frantically running behind him throwing totems on the ground in his path trying to keep up with this awful poison, or the time when he kept trying not to finish Braam's sentences at a meeting while quietly chuckling to himself and not to mention just how many pebbles he saw Cually consume that night, and oh how many people he would have to thank for bringing his old body back to life, and just how many times he's made sure not to squish Julain in his pocket which would be a complete tragedy since not only would he lose his personaly healer but a good friend as well...oh so many memories....

::feeling a slight pinch on his leg, Belaru jumps out of his personal reverie and looks down to barely see the form of a wolf nipping at his leg::

::smiling:: "I thank you for the wake up friend Thatcher, I tend to ramble in my own brain as well as I do out loud"

Belaru brings the pipe up to his mouth and deeply inhales, perhaps a bit too deeply, attempts to hide the cough that he can never seem to control, and exhales the remainder of the smoke. Smiling now because he knows his old friend is laughing at him from the Dream even, he slowly stands up and holds out the pipe to his brethren. Setting it in Flayer's hands, he moves to sit back down and realizes he creaks a bit more than he used to.

Edited by Volonazra
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A proud grin slowly stretched across Volonazra's face watching the first participant and he thought: The ancestors were wise, this ritual should make our spirits draw strength again.

/ooc Others that havent been involved as yet are welcome to join as the come upon the thread and wish. Also, if you only have just one compliment/thank you to give just one person that is also perfectly acceptable.

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After a long delay where he searches for words, Flayer begings to speak. Long nights in the wilderness with his wolf as his only companion sometimes make the words harder to come in a group of people.

"There have been countless battles that I could not begin to describe the honor of all the covenant members I have fought with. I remember a trip to the ogre den of Dire Maul where Volnazra helped me to slay King Gordok. Many battles with the vicous trolls of Zul'Gurub with Liquidfyre. Numerous gifts of time and engineering toys from my good friend Mirk. I remember the laugh we all had as Belaru had the most graceful lava dive I have ever seen in Blackrock Spire. My friend Kalea, that never has a cross word to say to anyone and is usually the first to greet a covenant friend as he arrives. "

Flayer pauses as if there is so much more he could say, but cannot seem to find the words. He deeply inhales on the pipe as he has done many times in his lifetime, and passes the pipe to Kalea.

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Kalea smiles as she takes the pipe from Flayer and remembers the first time she met him, out in the Blasted Lands, trying to kill the Demon Lord with Tokroth and Boven. It's been many moons and many roads travelled together since then.

As she breaths in the smoke, she sees the faces of all those in the Guild Hall that have become special to her and made her laugh and warmed her heart in her journey through Azeroth.

Lorgar, Wulfgar, Kaer, Koresk, Ghonne and all those who tried to help us complete our shaman quest. We failed, but we had fun.

Agnus, who always greets me with a big hug.

Lorgar and Liquidfyre for coming up with the elaborate plan for curing Boven's addiction to goblin deals, and the idea of making a calendar of Argent Covenant males. *giggle*

All the children she has adopted in the Covenant that make her laugh as she chase them down all over Azeroth for hugs or a good smack in the head with her hammer.

Hunting Geolords and elementals with Muato, and then having to check through his bags for kittens. *sigh*

Belaru's laugh. An essential part of any Zul Gurub trip.

Boven, who always makes her laugh and has that nice swishy tail. Not to mention the many times he's taken all the hits to keep her from getting her tail chewed by whatever we were fighting. She sends a special thank you to him for all the nights we simply sat and enjoyed the moonlight over Mulgore.

Julain, beloved son, and the only priest she knows that wants to tank in every instance. *makes a mental note to fix those ragged pants of his*

Rhoach, who seems to feel the need to burn himself in every fire we come across and moon every boss before we fight.

Her cousin, Thatcher, who took her out into the Plaguelands and gave her tips on how best to use her shaman skills when fighting. I don't think I learned very well, but he looks after me still.

So many late nights in Thunder Bluff sitting around a fire with Boven, Thatcher, Wolfhoof, and whoever happens to come along.

She smiles as the memories warm her heart and she thinks how lucky she has been that so many have taken the ditzy old hammer swinging cow into their midst.

She closes her eyes to enjoy the moment as she appreciates the warmth of the wolf on her hooves and waits for the transformation before she passes the pipe to Thatcher.

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<<The smoke from the embers of burning dream dust and the smoked herb is beginning to form a haze around the circle. The embers crackle, the smoke swirls about, the smell of distant rain is in the air. You are beginning to feel rather light, and your toes tingle abit. You hear the circle members saying their piece...was that an echoe? You think the ork is looking at you, no, into you. His look is not threatening, but notably intense. He is sitting crosslegged and murmuring something low, indiscernable....>>

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Thatcher -yawn- *uh oh looks like I fell asleep by the fire and Kalea looks like she wants to give me something. Maybe it's a bone...no can't be a bone it has smoke coming from it oh well might as well change back.* Thinks the wolf Tauren to himself.

-moves off of Kalea's feet and changes back into his big Tauren Shaman self-

"Thank's Cuz." Says the newly transformed Thatcher as he moves over to the space Vol provided for him.

"Wow, what can I say it has been a an interesting time here with you all."

Thatcher thinks to himself the first time he meet the Bloodmoon Choosen especially Mirk and Dreamwalker. Mirk was being Mirk and I could tell DW was a bit lost in what to say, but I could tell that old Shaman cared a lot for his warrior friend.

"From battles deep in the halls of scholomance to field trips to the Dark Portal where Kalea and myself tried to kill on of those demons we have had a good time."

"And yes Kalea you might like to be the best healer out there, but you know and I both know you have a fighter down in you somewhere."

-Thatcher looks up to the stars-

"If the stars can tell us anything, is that friends are like stars, no matter how far away you are or even if you can see them, they are always there looking after you."

-With that Thatcher takes the pipe to his mouth and breaths in deeply letting the smoke go in a smooth line in the direction of LiquidFyre. Who he hands the pipe to next and then goes back to being a wolf.-

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Morbida-

On the brink of defensively exploding

with counteraccusations of incessant blame,

lack of compassion and unrealistic expectations,

Morbida feels Morboso’s eyes upon her.

His gentle instructions penetrate her mind,

persuading her to remain diplomatically silent

as they have throughout this passionate debate.

The two grow increasingly weary

of such negativity and ill-speak

towards their new extended family

and so decide to go searching

for their wisely departed friends.

The two warlocks kindly excuse themselves

and quietly exit the Leaders’ Council.

Locking ‘lock hands, they stroll beneath the stars.

Out here the excitement is forgotten,

the air brisk, and the mind soothed.

Nearby, however, there is movement

within a hazed ring of magical light.

Slowly approaching, as not to disturb or intrude,

the M&M’s halt a few feet beyond this circle of friends.

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As Thatcher is handing the pipe to Liquidfyre, a black leather-clad trollish hand snakes out of the darkness and seizes it.

The grinning countenance of Rhoach resolves itself as the firelight illuminates the pleased-looking rogue.

Rhoach plops down into the circle, oblivious of a rune traced into the dirt as he obliterates it with his descending butt.

"'ey, 'ow dare ya start such a mystical proceedin' without m'self?" he asks, glaring around at those assembled with mock severity.

"Now," he declares, "I know whatcha've been talkin' 'bout, 'cause I know these things. Or somethin'. Well, I've come ta dispense more of my indispensable wisdom."

Rhoach sighs, suddenly becoming serious. "I 'spose I'd like ta sing the praises of all of ya that I don't know so well yet."

Looking up at the somewhat befuddled faces, Rhoach mutters quickly, "Eh, I'll keep this short. Thanks ta ya, Belaru, fer givin' all of us a home. Thanks to ya, Vol, fer holdin' the Crushers tagether against all odds. Thanks to ya, Kalea, fer makin' so many feel welcome an' warm. And..."

Rhoach appears to think for a second. A cockroach flutters onto his left shoulder. Rhoach peers at it and pats it fondly.

"An' thanks ta all those who've dropped out of our lives," he says almost in a whisper.

He passes the pipe, forgotten until now, to his left.

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Volonazra bears his tusks at him kin as he crudely interupts the delicate ritual. Thinking to himself, he will pay dearly if this fails. He turns his gaze toward the approaching Forsaken. A shadowy tentril reaches out behind the couple like a shepard crook. Its touch is light but pulls them near the old orc. Volonazra wonders how this ritual will effect ones such as they uncertain if their kind has ever been involved before.

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Liquidfyre glares at the rogue for taking the pipe, but all is forgiven once he begins speaking. What once would have been a look of horror, is now a look of kind acceptance, as she glances at the walking dead one.

Snatching the pipe away from his grime covered hands she sniffs the bowl and gently taps some of the contents of the pipe into her hands. Her tongue quickly darts out and gathers a few flakes of the substance a and she instantly grimaces at the bitter taste.

Sighing deeply she begins:

I have Ryuken to thank for tempering my distrust of the undead. One day, during a heated discussion with two undead who stood too close to me, he sat us all down, right in the center of Orgrimaar and built a fire. He then told us tales of his battles on the field, his life growing up without a mother until he was taken in by Kalea and his journeys (only later did I realize that he was a tart!). From that discussion, as we learned more about each other, I found that not all undead are treacherous, waiting to kill off every living thing, but that some of them were poor people prior to their rebirth as an undead or that they fought the evil forces in the world.

I thank the Spirits for providing me with such kind friends in this Covenant (just a few are named here):

Mirk for his ability to lighten any mood, even in the most dire of places, he will gladly disrobe (blushes: at my request) and fight valiantly.

Muato for keeping us in line (with a gentle hand) while we fight the enemies of my people.

Huuknar, for stepping in as a new ally and taking up the cause with us.

soon to be continued.....

Edited by Volonazra
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The strong feeling of magic is what brought Maube from her tomes, always eager to learn more and discover whatever powers that could only be touched and felt by the ones gifted with the otherworldly power. Slipping free from the desk that had trapped her she stepped out into the clear night, her pupiless gaze sweeping across the field to where the unmistakable glimmer of magic awaited her... cautiously she approached, not wanting to ruin the concentration of the caster, she lingers outside the fringes, watching and waiting for her chance to move among the ritual.

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  • 7 months later...

Wandering across the plains, searching in vain for some peacebloom to use in a salve against scorpid venom, Scryll comes across the cold remnants of a fire. A pipe, half-blackened and cracked from heat lies in the middle, and he sees a strange foreign dust sprinkled in places along the ground. Suddenly a stream of images flashes before his eyes: Belaru, Benim, and a handful of others standing triumphant and bleeding over Onyxia's head after our vicious battle and hairsbreadth victory over the mighty dragon; Ghonne, chanting without fear as she prepares another shadowbolt for the Molten Giant bearing down on her while Alhazad chases after it, desperately trying to turn it aside; Narsica using the last of her power to toss heal on Scryll himself and a forgotten warrior, before General Drakkisath smashes her down with a final blow and turns to deal with the two intruders who still dared stand against him. Last comes an image of the Dark Portal, with many from the Clan and its allies standing around, as Volonazra steps through. "Me nub knew lat fer long," Scryll whispers to himself, as the wind howls across the arid earth, "but me miss lat and me glad we met old orc."

Edited by Scryll
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