Messing with the Darkwolves will be the last thing you do

[Kulgosh-emerald-dream]

The Chieftain slammed his arm across the table centered in the middle of the Wounded Paw causing half empty tankards of grog to fly across the tavern and splatter anyone who was unwise enough to stand so close to the the enraged Mok’nathal Orc.

“I WILL have every ONE of these blasted small-teeths ripped into pieces and scattered about the streets of Undermine–! NO! Their own lands even!”

The Chieftain was fueled with frustration as the recent battles against them began to sway in the favor of the Dwarves.

“They bring forces we cannot contend with! We will not cower, but we will embrace new tactics! We will show them the dae’monic will of the Darkwolves. Their grandchildren will cower in the mention of what we did to their people!”

Come the next morning the hulking frame of the Chieftain ambled about with a disturbed and scornful frown plastered across his tusky maw as he gazed about a small group of elite Darkwolves standing in the morning dew of Gulwor’gol Hold, their proudly fertile, and aggressively taken lands.

“Tonight we will find them. Tonight we will show them no mercy. We will use tactics they wouldn’t expect any to think of, let alone follow through with.”

They traveled to Undermine and hid in a new base they recently established through means that is none of your business. A scout would return heavy with sweat…

“I’ve spotted a small party of them! One seems to be some sort of Commander! They do not seem to be here for military purposes, only for leisure, perhaps.”

The Chieftain shouted across the room for his special unit to gather and they quickly left on foot, something no Darkwolf had done before. They were uneasy and felt naked knowing battle was inching towards them but they did not have their wolf companions with them. Nonetheless, their mission was to make a point that transcended normal and unusual, right and wrong. It was an outright act of war.

The Darkwolf Orcs arrived to the hotel and in their sights they found the Dwarves, whom they suspected to have at least one leader within their respected ranks. Quickly they lurched into the building and grappled each of the Dwarves and smuggled their struggling bodies out into the streets. They were dropped to the ground and out from the shadows came Chieftain Kul’gosh, a tusky grin engulfing his face.

“My people typically say Aka Ma’gosh, but we are Frostwolves no longer. Today you will meet your worst of fates.”

The Orcs in his command quickly began stomping down the Dwarves and hacking at their limbs until they could resist no longer. With horror in their eyes, they looked to the sky only to have their last view be that of the leader swinging an axe unto their throat. Everything went silent and soon only the Orcs persistent commands would be heard.

“What do I do with this one, Chieftain? It 's so frail it might be a woman?”

Another Orc would respond,

“Why would it have a beard if it’s a woman?”

Another Orc would mutter,

“I hear tales that even their women have beards!”

Chieftain Kul’gosh grew furious with the constant murmuring instead of action,

“I DON’T CARE IF IT IS A MAN OR A WOMAN, CUT IT’S BEARD FROM IT’S FACE AND HAMMER IT INTO THE WALLS OF THAT BLASTED HOTEL, OR IT’LL BE YOUR BEARD I COME FOR NEXT!”

The Darkwolves grinned at this command and took great pleasure in what they did next. They rolled the remains of the slain Dwarves into a pile and each of them took turns speaking the names of those that were taken from them by the Battlehammers before, carving their knives into the flesh of their gauntly faces, ripping the skin up slowly, until nothing but a bloody patch of skin and a neatly braided beard was left.

Kul’gosh’s upper lip twinged as he watched upon the group of Darkwolves taking justice upon the Dwarves in the names of their kin,

"Now, leave them all hammered to the walls of the hotel. Make them know that this transcends even these Goblin lands if they do not back down now.

A few days of contentious grog drinking at the Wounded Paw went by and the Clan eventually tested their might in other lands. This time, the Ringing Deeps. Their presence surprised all, and many, many, lives were claimed at the hand of the Clan. A new dawn for them, and perhaps a darkest day for those they seek to overstep in honor of Orcish uprising.

((Okay, all roleplay aside, I want to address Clan Battlehammer personally. We owe you guys such a TREMENDOUS thank you for your battles with us and willingness to work with our guild as we bolster ourselves fully. You guys are such a ridiculously difficult challenge for our clan that we have been as determined as we are struggling to face each and every one of you and it’s made us exponentially better RP-WPVPers. I really hope to keep a strong and healthy relationship with you all and understand, we look up to you guys more than any one of you can fathom! I am super grateful to have had such a challenge at our feet and am even more grateful at how supportive you have all been of us as we overcome our obstacles! From Darkwolf Clan to everyone in Clan Battlehammer, thank you!))

Video of Darkwolf Clan taking over Ringing Deeps: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2Ky8FCma7Y

visit our website
www.darkwolfclan .net

[Kulgosh-emerald-dream]

This is a Roleplay post and has nothing to do with OOC skills, so why bring them into this post. I play prot because it is fun, and I’m also someone that Alliance are around the clock trying to kill. So, why wouldn’t I play smart, and not hard? Not to mention I lead team fights and need to be alive to direct our raids in and out of combat. And that healer is my partner who I enjoy gaming with. It’s not that deep.

[Connarch-moon-guard]

((reposting my original reply to your short story here, in addition to the ED version, since this is my actual server and your thread deserves a bump))

Dust motes danced in the shafts of amber light spilling through the high, arched windows of Connarch Prymalson’s studio, a cluttered nook carved into the bustling heart of Ironforge’s main thoroughfare. The air thrummed with the rhythmic tink-tink-tink of chisel on stone, a Wildhammer dwarf’s hymn to craft and kin. Connarch, broad-shouldered and wild-maned, hunched over a slab of granite, his thick fingers guiding the tool with a precision that belied his hulking frame. Before him sprawled a bas-relief half-finished—a glorious tangle of Clan Battlehammer’s latest triumphs, dwarven warriors astride gryphons, their hammers raised against the snarling Orcs of the Darkwolf Clan. The scene was chaos frozen in stone, all fire and fury, yet Connarch’s brow furrowed, his soot-streaked beard twitching with discontent.

“Och, it’s nae sittin’ right, Chunk,” he growled, his voice a gravelly burr that rolled like thunder through the chamber. “The balance is off, ye ken? Too much weight on the left—looks like the whole bloody army’s about tae tip o’er and land in me lap!” He jabbed the chisel at a rearing gryphon, its wings flared in mid-flight, then shot a glare at the hulking rock-elemental looming beside him. Chunk, a craggy behemoth of shale and grit, rumbled a low, earthy groan, its faceless head tilting as if to argue. One massive mitt clutched a spare chisel, the other stealthily patching a jagged nick in the stone where Connarch had slipped earlier—a flaw the dwarf hadn’t yet noticed.

Across the room, sprawled atop a mound of pillows, Stormgut snored with the gusto of a bellows stoking a forge. The gryphon’s tawny feathers ruffled with each gusty breath, his beak half-open, a thin strand of drool glistening on the fabric. The studio smelled of iron, sweat, and the faint musk of gryphon—a dwarf’s paradise, save for Connarch’s mounting frustration.

“Dinnae gimme that look, ye lump o’ rubble,” Connarch snapped at Chunk, who’d dared to nudge the chisel toward a lopsided Orc figure. “I’m the artist here, aye? Ye stick tae haulin’ tools and keepin’ yer stony paws off me vision!” Chunk rumbled again, a sound like pebbles grinding, and subtly smoothed another errant gouge while Connarch’s back was turned.

The dwarf leaned back, squinting at the relief with a scowl when the interruption came—a sharp bang as the studio door flew open, slamming against the wall with a clang that rattled the shelves. Stormgut jolted awake with a squawk, feathers flaring, while Chunk pivoted ponderously toward the noise. Connarch didn’t bother turning, too lost in his grumbling. “Oi, if that’s ye, Callahan, wi’ more o’ yer whinin’ about me noise, ye kin sod off—I’m in the thick o’ it here!”

But it wasn’t Callahan. A young dwarf, one of his apprentices, breathless and wide-eyed, stumbled in from the clamor of Ironforge’s streets, his mail clinking with every heaving step. “Connarch!” the messenger gasped, clutching a scroll stamped with the Battlehammer seal. “It’s urgent—dire news frae the front!”

Connarch waved a dismissive hand, still glaring at his sculpture. “Aye, aye, urgent’s always the word wi’ ye lot. Kinnae ye see I’m wrestlin’ wi’ this bloody stone? Tell yer tale quick and be off—I’ve Orcs and a battle tae carve!”

The messenger faltered, then pressed on, voice trembling. “It’s the Darkwolf Clan, sir. They’ve struck again—raided our outposts along the Ridge. Slaughtered our kin, Connarch. Took their heads… defiled their beards afore the bodies went cold.”

The words hung in the air like a hammer poised to strike.

Connarch froze, chisel halfway to his lips where he’d been gnawing it in thought. Slowly, he turned, his storm-gray eyes narrowing as the messenger’s meaning sank in. “What did ye say?” he rumbled, low and dangerous, the burr in his voice sharpening to a blade’s edge. “Defiled… their beards?”

The messenger nodded, pale beneath his helm. “Aye, sir. Cut ‘em off, strung ‘em up like trophies. They’re mockin’ us, Connarch—mockin’ Clan Battlehammer.”

A cold rage bloomed in Connarch’s chest, a storm gathering behind his ribs, all lightning and thunder waiting to unleash. His eyes widened, pupils shrinking to pinpricks of fury, and the studio seemed to dim as if the light itself feared what was coming. Without a word, he dropped the chisel—it hit the floor with a dull thunk—and strode to the anvil in the corner. There, gleaming amidst the clutter, lay his stormhammer, its haft engraved with swirling runes, its head etched with the wild winds of the Wildhammer creed. He hefted it, the weight familiar and righteous in his grip, and the air crackled faintly as if the weapon sensed his intent.

“Stormgut!” he barked, and the gryphon snapped to attention, shaking off sleep with a fierce shake of his wings. His amber eyes gleamed, mirroring Connarch’s wrath. “Chunk, ye too—move yer stony rump! We’ve kin tae avenge!” The rock-elemental lumbered forward, a low growl vibrating through its core, while Stormgut let out a piercing cry that echoed off the stone walls.

Connarch didn’t spare the messenger another glance. He stormed toward the door, his hammer slung over one shoulder, his tread heavy with purpose. “They’ll rue the day they touched a Battlehammer’s beard,” he snarled, voice thick with venom. “I’ll hammer their skulls intae the dirt ‘til the mountains weep blood, ye hear me? Nae Orc filth’ll live tae boast o’ this!”

Connarch’s apprentice stepped aside as he barreled past, Stormgut padding at his heels, talons clicking on the stone, and Chunk trailing behind, a walking avalanche of quiet fury. Out into Ironforge’s thoroughfare they went, on to a portal that would take them to Dornogal and their gathering kin, a trio bound for war—the dwarf’s wild mane whipping in the wind, the gryphon’s wings half-unfurled, and the elemental’s fists clenched like boulders ready to crush. The city’s din faded behind them as Connarch’s mind turned to the Darkwolf Clan, to the kin he’d lost, and to the storm he’d bring down upon their heads.

“Mount up, Stormgut,” he commanded, voice a low roar. “We ride fer vengeance, lads. Nae rest ‘til their blood paints the stone!”

[Kulgosh-emerald-dream]

((I really loved reading your post and I am so glad you announced the IC de-bearding as a mocking in the RP as that was our IC goal and out of all the original posts, you made that ackonowledged the most! Also, sorry about killing you so many time in Ringing Deeps lol. We were terrified you guys were gunna show up in full force on us lol))

((And to everyone who is reading my first comment, it was a response to someone who was being quite rude and making personal attacks out of this post for whatever reason, I have no idea who they were, but it appears they deleted their comment.))

We Darkwolves look forward to seeing you guys on the battlefield and will give you all the best fights we can! We’re honored to be your antagonists!

[Kharareed-moon-guard]

((I’m not even involved and I love how you all have such a strong bond. ))

[Kulgosh-emerald-dream]

I highly recommend you visit this post on the Emerald Dream forums! It’s blown up with IC write ups from both Clan Battlehammer and Darkwolf Clan’s members embracing the upcoming war between our people!

[Connarch-moon-guard]

((dude it’s cool, I knew what I was getting into when I poked the beehive and casted thunderstorm in the middle of your ranks. You were all arranged so nicely …I couldn’t resist…

It seems like you folks are building a good community over there, rather than a toxic one, and that’s good for us too, so I want to support that.
In this case that meant casting thunderstorm on your crew and trying to to get away after . Seriously though, I am stoked to see Darkwolf Clan grow and revitalize the community, it’s starting to feel a little like 2013 Emerald Dream.

Glad you liked the story, you folks’ stories were fun to read as well. I liked how varied and unique they were.

Sorry to disappoint you guys by not showing up with CBH numbers. There were like 10 of us on last night, lol. Between Pragus and I and your clan we got some good RP hype for the next wpvp thing though, yeah? Cheers man.))

[Kulgosh-emerald-dream]

yes we did! We were all screaming WAAAGHH TAKE THEIR BEARDS, DARKWOLVES!! So, it was loved on our end!