The Zul’Atal Summit is here once more! Taking place Fri 11/12 through Sun 11/14, this is a three-day event from 4ST (PST) to 8/9ST each night. Join us in celebrating all things troll with a wide variety of events from combat to story circles to feasts and more! Below is our full schedule of events as well as a City Map! We hope to see you there, and/or at the Zul’Gurub Farmers Market on Fri/Sat night!
Tonight’s festivities start at 4ST with another city/shrine tour! Also an update- Bwom’aka’s event on STC History will be at 5:00ST, an hour earlier than the schedule lists! Still at the Big Hut, though!!
Tonight is the LAST NIGHT of the Zul’Atal Summit, and we’re jam-packed with events for you!
Are you a history buff? Stop by at 4ST for the City/Shrine tours and learn all about Zandalari and Mogu history at 6:30!
Big into combat theory and wanna see some people do cool spells and stuff? Hit up the Subclass Masterclass & Demonstration at 5!
Want another chance to win a prize if you missed out on last night’s festivities and wanna get your Gordon Ramsey on? Hit up the Cooking Competition, also at 5!
We’ll all meet back up for the Zul’Thraze (our ritual fight with a prize of its own), Closing Ceremonies, and Zandalar Commune’s firework show! Tell all your friends, bring all your friends, and let’s close out this year’s Summit with a bang!
The Zul’Atal Summit is here once more! Taking place Fri 11/12 through Sun 11/14, this is a three-day event from 4ST (PST) to 8/9ST each night. Join us in celebrating all things troll with a wide variety of events from combat to story circles to feasts and more! Below is our full schedule of events as well as a City Map! We hope to see you there, and/or at the Zul’Gurub Farmers Market on Fri/Sat night!
Tonight’s festivities start at 4ST with another city/shrine tour! Also an update- Bwom’aka’s event on STC History will be at 5:00ST, an hour earlier than the schedule lists! Still at the Big Hut, though!!
The Zul’Atal Summit is here once more! Taking place Fri 11/12 through Sun 11/14, this is a three-day event from 4ST (PST) to 8/9ST each night. Join us in celebrating all things troll with a wide variety of events from combat to story circles to feasts and more! Below is our full schedule of events as well as a City Map! We hope to see you there, and/or at the Zul’Gurub Farmers Market on Fri/Sat night!
Come one, come all to the Zul’Gurub Farmers Market, debuting Fri-Sat at the Zul’Atal Summit on WrA-H, hosted by the Shadowtusk Clan!
What: A Horde-side (sorry, Alliance!) Farmers Market
Where: Uninstanced Zul’Gurub, Stranglethorn Vale.
When: Fri 11/12/21 and Sat 11/13/21 from 6ST-8ST, and every second weekend of every other month thereafter! (Miss this one? Next will be January!)
Why: To showcase all our talented characters who grow their own produce, tan their own leathers, weave their own robes, or have any other such talents!
As this market’s focus is on homegrown and homemade/handmade goods of a non-magical nature, this does sadly mean that folks who make magic-based items such as potions, trinkets, or enchantments can’t sell. It doesn’t mean you can’t sell your reagents (if you’ve grown them yourself), but we want to give the server something we haven’t yet seen, market-wise!
Want to know more, keep track of updates, or sign up for a hut? Join our discord at: https://discord.gg/ecsz93nheZ
And be sure to look for a post detailing Zul’Atal as well, including a full schedule of events in the next week or two!
The market opens in two days! Also take a look at the full schedule of events for the Zul’Atal Summit, including the fun events hosted by @zuldazar-menagerie !
The Zul’Atal Summit is here once more! Taking place Fri 11/12 through Sun 11/14, this is a three-day event from 4ST (PST) to 8/9ST each night. Join us in celebrating all things troll with a wide variety of events from combat to story circles to feasts and more! Below is our full schedule of events as well as a City Map! We hope to see you there, and/or at the Zul’Gurub Farmers Market on Fri/Sat night!
Come one, come all to the Zul’Gurub Farmers Market, debuting Fri-Sat at the Zul’Atal Summit on WrA-H, hosted by the Shadowtusk Clan!
What: A Horde-side (sorry, Alliance!) Farmers Market
Where: Uninstanced Zul’Gurub, Stranglethorn Vale.
When: Fri 11/12/21 and Sat 11/13/21 from 6ST-8ST, and every second weekend of every other month thereafter! (Miss this one? Next will be January!)
Why: To showcase all our talented characters who grow their own produce, tan their own leathers, weave their own robes, or have any other such talents!
As this market’s focus is on homegrown and homemade/handmade goods of a non-magical nature, this does sadly mean that folks who make magic-based items such as potions, trinkets, or enchantments can’t sell. It doesn’t mean you can’t sell your reagents (if you’ve grown them yourself), but we want to give the server something we haven’t yet seen, market-wise!
Want to know more, keep track of updates, or sign up for a hut? Join our discord at: https://discord.gg/ecsz93nheZ
And be sure to look for a post detailing Zul’Atal as well, including a full schedule of events in the next week or two!
Tezuli woke that morning less with a start, and more with a somber rise. The morning mist clung to the palm leaves of her hut roof, with dawn just barely starting to chase away the dusk. Even in the early hour, she could hear work being done. She rolled onto her stomach in her bed, moving to light the candle on her bedside table. The warm orange glow illuminated the intricate woodcarving Daba had made for her wedding. A weight settled in her stomach, achingly familiar, and she knew without certainty:
A year. Already.
Ghosts of us in the next life
Knowing what we know on our last nights
Try to remind us.. they remind us
to hold on tight
Call me in the morning
When you wake up, the world is in motion
And when you reach me, are you with me
on the other side?
She thought back to that final night- the feast. How everyone had come together, because of the work he’d laid down, to defend the jungle and their homes against Garax. She had no idea that would be the last time they shared a feast. She looked at that woodcarving, running a finger along its smooth surface. How she wished she could go back in time- tell herself to make sure she held her brother tight. Don’t let go.
Don’t leave me hanging, waiting for something
believing in nothing, with nobody else…
She remembered how scared she felt, how shaken to her core, when he ordered the retreat. When he was felled from Petri’s back, trapped underneath. How desperately she wanted to cut through the enemy lines to reach him.. but couldn’t. How brilliantly Shango’s blessing cut through the shadow and fog to light the oil rig. How the clan, voices hoarse and throats raw from screaming, bellowed in a final warcry as they descended on the C’thraxxi and felled him, once and for all.
She remembered the flicker of hope, seeing that soft blue glow of Venomclaw, and hoping against hope- against the truth she knew, deep down- that he would be beaten and battered.. but alive.
Body is aching, dreaming and waking
Don’t leave me waiting, don’t leave me here…
beside myself.. beside myself.
She remembered how it felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest when she shook him. When he didn’t wake. When she knew no begging or pleading would call back his soul. The victory was hollow in that moment, because all she felt was that searing hot grief, clawing at her very soul while she held his body, rocking in the sand.
Hold me like it’s the last time
Like you remember how it felt the first time
I know we’re dying, tell me it’s okay
not to be alright
It had crept up on her slowly, yet entirely unsubtly, like a stormcloud on the horizon. She felt irritated, tense, like a coiled spring one moment. The next, an evening breeze and a walk in the jungle would reduce her to trembling and holding back tears. Grief was a fickle, unpredictable thing she’d learned over the last year.
But it hit her hardest on the night of the tournament. She’d stepped aside in prior tournament fights for Hakkari’s Bane, one of the clan’s oldest historic weapons, in favor of her own weapons. Daba always teased her about it- one of many things he often gave her grief over. This time was different, though- he wasn’t here to fight any hopeful for them. So she sought to do it in his stead- win or lose, as long as the Blades were wielded by someone worthy, it was all for the best.
She hadn’t expected to win them herself.
She hadn’t expect the words to tumble out of her mouth as if she hadn’t even been in control of her own thoughts:
“I -AM- SHADOWTUSK!”
No sooner was she standing the victor did she start to slip, focusing all her effort into maintaining her composure. She listened to Mo’saku’s parting words to the fighters and victors, and she arrived home without.. really realizing she’d walked there. The Blades were, for now, set on the personal shrine she’d made when setting up her hut so long ago.
The weight of the Blades was familiar- she’d wielded them before. Excellently balanced, deviously sharp, and capable of shattering any magical shield and detecting heretical Hakkari (as if there was any other kind).
But this time, there was a weight to them she did not recognize.. and yet, she knew it.
She fought for them in his honor. She won them. The first time in.. perhaps years that she’d fought for the Blades he so often teased her over not fighting for.. and the one time she fought for and won them.. he wasn’t here.
His teasing was relentless, but never cruel. Always deserving of a good-natured smack on his arm or smart-aleck quip in turn. She’d never known anyone like him, or bonded with anyone the way they had with each other. She remembered his memorial- she’d called him her soulmate. A platonic bond, familial- certainly not romantic.. but the two were kindred spirits. Twin flames. It was true then.
It was true now.
She missed him, and missed him terribly. To say she missed him didn’t feel strong enough of a sentiment, even now. How did one go about saying they lived their life with a piece of their soul missing? How could it ever be explained that she wouldn’t ever get over it, or even move past it, because in every part of the jungle there was a reminder of the loss?
But also in every part of the jungle, was a reminder of the life. In the eyes of his children- in Tanaji’s hair, in the quiet hisses and clicks of a ravasaur. In Mo’saku’s ostentatious and vibrant katsina, so like his in styling.
And in the tournament, reminded of his jabs. His barbs and quips. His laugh, and the way his hand felt clapping on her shoulder. He was gone from this world, from the clan, from the city. But he would never be gone from her heart.
We hold on to the good times
in the right now, in the long nights
in the hometown with the bright lights
as they guide us to the next life...
While I didn’t see it get any traction on here, if anyone did see and was interested in the Wooden Wheel, gotta put it on an indefinite backburner! Got other things I need to focus on. If/when it comes back around I’ll be sure to post about it though!
While I didn’t see it get any traction on here, if anyone did see and was interested in the Wooden Wheel, gotta put it on an indefinite backburner! Got other things I need to focus on. If/when it comes back around I’ll be sure to post about it though!
I'm seein’ signs of you.. and it’s the only thing that gets me through.
Fall had come and gone in the jungle, and with it Kaz’kah, and slowly.. things had begun to heal. Even if rumors of more dangerous or potentially dangerous threats circled, none of it mattered once inside the warmth of a single hut in the Market District.
Normally, the shadow hunter would’ve taken this small set-up to the dark crypts. Once a week, every week since Zu’daba had passed, Tezuli had gone to visit him. Catch him up on all he’d missed. How the trainees were doing. How she was doing. It made the sting of his loss feel less painful, and it gave her closure.
At least, it had until Gon’uru reopened wounds that really hadn’t fully closed- likely, they never truly would.
A holiday for family- found, blood, and otherwise. A bond she shared with her cousins- Bazu and Zo’kiri- but also with those who had become like family- Kavadi, Mo’saku, Raz’uku.
And those who were family once, but now separated by the great and nigh-impassible wall that was the Veil. Those like Zu’daba.
She’d kept a handle on her grief fairly well until it woke her up in the dead of night- a dream she couldn’t remember the moment her eyes flew open, only to notice her cheeks were wet with tears and her heart ached for a brother long-gone. She sat in the dark of that night, unable or refusing to go back to sleep while she simply sat with her grief. To push it down was to deny its existence, and a long while now she’d preached against bottling up emotions. While she rarely displayed her own publicly, she did take her own advice more often than many would really know. He was gone, and while she would see him again.. it would not be soon, and being separate from one who felt truly like a piece of her soul, a brother in spirit and adopted in blood… it truly felt as if he was a world away. Perhaps, in part, because he was.
Heart’s been cut wide open, changin’ and I know it.
The other side of you, that’s what I’ve been trying to get used to.
The days since her dream had passed without consequence, with Gon’uru stretching into its midpoint. Dusk was fast approaching, and Tezuli had set up two plates of food in her hut, though only one was meant for her. A stick of light, floral incense- the type she’d used at Kaz’kah’s Feast for Two- was set between them, and with a deep breath in, the shadow hunter lit the incense.
“I’unno if ya can hear me as clear now, what with Kaz’kah come’n gone,” She spoke initially into the emptiness of the hut, “But.. iffin y’can.. yanno ya don’ gotta be no stranger in m’hut, Daba,” She kept her eyes closed, as if it was easier to ‘see’ him that way- even if only in her mind’s eye.
“.. Gon’uru is hard without ya. Harder’n I thought it’d be, considerin’ you an’ I never really did much aroun’ this time anyway. But.. is the festival ‘a family, an’.. Loa, ya were family t’me. Daresay closer’n many ‘a my own blood. An’.. I’m really feelin’ the sting ‘a this loss righ’ now.”
Her ears wilted.
“Which is why I wanted t’invite ya in here. Even if I don’ got the Sight t’see ya.. it brings me comfort, talkin’ t’ya like this, knowin’ ya hear me. Whether it’s in the crypts or here.. as sad as I get sometimes rememberin’ that ya gone.. when I close m’eyes an’ talk t’ya like this…” She paused, and whether it was placebo or truly a spirit, there was a swelling in her chest- a warming of the soul.
“When I talk t’ya like this.. ya don’ feel so far away.”
It’s just me and my thoughts, I get so low but then the upside calls.
She spoke to where she imagined he was for hours, well after the sun had set and darkness blanketed the Vale. Her hut was filled with the scent of jasmine, musk, and cedar and if she opened her eyes a crack, Tezuli swore she could see the smoke wafting around an unseen form.
She told him of her doubts and troubles- smaller now, as time had passed, but still there- was he proud? Were she and Mo’saku carrying on his legacy in a way that honored him and the work he had done? She told him how she struggled for so long with such questions.. and that while she still did from time to time.. it was easier, now. For all the lows she fell to when grief hit her out of nowhere like a bolt of lightning.. it was a passing moment. And when the moment was over.. she could smile again, because for all the pain she felt in holding his lifeless body, in putting him to rest..
It was overshadowed by the joy in knowing the revelry he earned in Samedi’s court. The joy in having known him at all. In laughing with him, fighting alongside him, advising him and being advised by him. There was still dark, and until the spiritkin were reunited there would always be dark…
But as Tezuli blew out the incense to wish the spirit of her brother a good night.. she knew the light was within her reach.
You know I’m holding on and I’m upside down,
On my way to the upside now, on my way, on my way out.
I don’t know if I’m right-side up, inside-out but I won’t give up
On my way, on my way… to the upside now.
Are you new to troll-RP? Are you a veteran role player?
If you’ve been looking to “Come get de voodoo,” look no further than the Shadowtusk Clan! Hailing from deep in the jungle of Stranglethorn, STC is a heavy-roleplay guild that has made its home in the outdoor and un-instanced city of Zul’Gurub.
We are a conglomerate of many tribes, Amani to Zandalari, whose primary goal is to maintain a bustling and thriving troll society with its culture untainted by the likes of the Horde or the Alliance. We seek to revive the Twin Empires, but not as Zul once did - Instead, we want to bring together all of the tribes into a single body so that trolls may never be trod upon again.
We have been around on Wyrmrest since 2010 and were a part of the Ravenholdt community prior to that. The guild has a long and storied history, but we have always been fans of trolls, looking to provide the most immersive roleplay experience possible!
OOCly, we host frequent dedicated DM’d events and have a large community that enjoys persistent ambient RP around the city. We even have IC housing, with the huts available to us serving as an actual residence system that you can earn once you reach our “Ai’shi” rank! Not to mention a variety of large server-wide events, like the Zul'atal Summit usually hosted in May, and the Great Hunt in July.
Suffice to say, a whole clan of trolls in the jungle is not a particularly non-violent place. While we have certainly taken measures to make the city welcoming for folks who want to roleplay in it without interference, that doesn’t stop various NPC’s or even archaeological entrepreneurs from trying to loot our shrines and desecrate our temples! **The guild requires that you be of 18 years or older to join**, as violence and mature themes are prevalent in our troll roleplay.
While you cannot join as our Prestige Classes (Shadow Walker, Shadow Hunter, Witch Doctor, Primal, Dinomancer, Blood Drinker), we have some excellent trainers in place with deeply engaging syllabi through which to train you. The Prestige Classes are worth all the effort, especially given we have abilities and everything set out for each of them.
Thank you so much for reading, and remember: We’ll always be in Zul’Gurub.
Interested? Apply at shadowtusk dot (.) com or contact one of our officers!*
**Current officers: Bazu, Hexblades, Bahmeih, Rohgue, and Xoluna**
It’s been a long day without you, my friend… and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again.
A week now already he’d been buried- two weeks nearly he’d been gone. She still found herself catching on her words and memories- speaking of him as though he were still here.
Zu’Daba.
In truth.. she’d had a feeling. When she saw the massive lightning strike called from the sky.. the greatest of Shango’s wrath.. the fire it lit. The way the explosion engulfed everything in its path.. even Garax. She knew, somewhere, in her heart:
There was no surviving it.
But she held to hope. She held onto it even as she ran, limping, only to crumble at his battered, burned, and broken body. She shook him, begging him to breathe and wake only to meet lifeless eyes, gazing skyward. Never in her life had she felt that kind of pain- never in her life did she expect she’d feel it again.
The memories sat just beneath the surface as she’d looked in at his mummified body during the funeral. Many, many tears were shed- more than she’d shed likely in the past year had fallen in a downpour over the past two weeks. But.. laying him to rest? It had given her closure- at least, enough to push through and put her brave face back on. It was the face the clan needed to see. She had duties. Responsibilities. For their sake, she would keep her grief private as the weeks moved on.
But she had to see him. Once more. At least to say one final, private goodbye. She wandered into the crypts shortly before dawn, kneeling down by his grave- his body since interred.
“.. Now I know how you musta felt.. buryin’ me,” She chuckled for a moment, “.. ‘Cept I came back.”
“I keep-” She paused, “I keep.. hopin’ you gonna pop up.. say it was a prank.. an’ I can beat ya flat ass into next week,” Tezuli sighed softly. It hurt, still. But the harsh sting was slowly becoming a dull ache. Bearable, but still a constant reminder of her loss.
“I… I wanted us t’have more time. Thought we’d train more shadow hunters t’gether. Thought you’d be there when Taz an’ I decided t’adopt a bunch ‘a kiddos…” Her ears slowly wilted. It wasn’t the present that stung now- it was the future. All the times that would no longer exist.
“I wasn’ ready t’say goodbye.. I- .. I’m still not. I see you everywhere. I h-.. I hear you everywhere. There ain’ a place in this city that.. that you’re not a part ‘a.. an’ it hurts- it’s like.. like I lost a part ‘a my soul. Even though I know ya gone.. that it’s real.. an’ even if I’m startin’ t’move forward.. it still hurts.”
Tezuli pressed her palm gently against the words she’d had inscribed on his headstone plaque:
Here lies Zu’Daba- Chief of the Shadowtusk Clan, Master Shadow Hunter, Mate, Father, Brother, Friend. Let all who read these words recall his sacrifice and carry on his legacy. Hoowah!
No doubt he’d think it was ostentatious- ‘too much’. He was always humble in that way, and it never ceased to amuse her. At least she could brag about him to her heart’s content now.
“.. I’m proud of ya, brother,” She spoke softly, eyes welling slightly with tears, “I know ya did what ya had t’do. What ya were called t’do. Damn if it don’ hurt like hell, but .. yeah. ‘M proud of ya. But if I can ask f’one las’ thing…”
She traced her fingers along the words of the plaque, then dropped her hand to her lap, simply staring at his gravesite before turning her eyes skyward, toward the ceiling.
“Send me a sign? I don’ care how silly it is- hell.. silly might even be better.. but.. send me a sign ya arright? That ya made it t’Samedi’s court safe an’ sound. That.. that ya okay,” She sighed, closing her eyes. “‘Cause I know ya hear me. I feel it. Ya gone.. but not forgotten. Ya jus’ a li’l more far away now..”
A tear finally slipped down her cheek. No precursor to a sob, but a lonely traveler. “.. I know I’ll see ya again. I’ll see ya again, an’ it’ll be like we were never apart. An’ don’ worry- I’ll come visit. Tell ya all the shit that goes on. Tell ya all about the folks who piss me off.. an’ how our trainees are doin’. An’ whatever I don’ get t’tell ya now..” She drew in a deep breath, “I’ll tell ya when I see ya again.”
Finally, she stood, smoothing her armor plates over her kilt.
“.. But.. until that day comes.. I hope ya know how much I love ya. An’.. an’ how much I miss ya.” She turned her eyes skyward, up to the ceiling of the crypts though her gaze went far beyond.
“.. Take care ‘a him f’me, will ya Samedi? .. He was one ‘a the good ones.”
With her final goodbye spoken, she turned to depart. And as the shadow hunter left the crypts, the first slivers of vanilla dawn began to spill over the mountains of Zul’Gurub. A new day was breaking.. and she would sing. She would dance. .. She would live.
We’ve come a long way from where we began. Oh, I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again.
His first, and last, words as Chief were his most core truth. His very being lain within those words was spoken with such resolve that his whole body quaked from a mere spoken word. Bloodied and battered without a hope in the world, the rumble of thunder that pierced the silence of death and ash around him was deafening - Cacophonous. The bright light descended from the sky with a great crash of force that sent ripples through the air and through the wilted grass; spilling out in every direction as it curled as a serpent about his arm. Even the massive C’thraxxi before him was taken aback by such power - Staggered as the Shadow Hunter nearly collapsed. It took all of his strength to even hold this power, let alone direct it to his own whims.
He drank in that moment for an eternity - A second stretched well beyond reason and well beyond logic. This was the death he had foreseen, even if he could not have anticipated it would happen so soon.The smell of atmosphere filled his nostrils alongside acrid smoke and blood. Coarse sands trickled beneath his toes as he curled them into the ground beneath him, while the numb stinging of his missing arm caused his entire body to ache. His tongue swelled in his mouth, and his throat clenched in anticipation. His ears heard naught but silence, but in the distance he could see them..
His clan. Those he had fought for. Bled for. Those he had led through strife and victory, watching, waiting - Hoping with heavy hearts that he would live. A hot tear streamed down his face as, for the first time, they saw not the perfection of carved and painted wood… But flesh. Imperfect, scarred and worn. He did not fear death, but he did not wish to go. He did not regret his life, but wished that he had more to live. He did not want to say goodbye, but the clan needed to survive and flourish. That was his duty as Chief. It always was. It was greater than him.
All of it faded as the lightning jumped from hair to hair, fiber to fiber, pore to pore. His fur was singed and stood on end as he hissed in pain; the electricity cloaking his entire form in blue luminescence. With only one path to channel it, he was forced to pass the energy through his own chest - His heart screaming in his chest and slowing to a stand-still; already damaged by using his left-handed blade to slice off his arm earlier that night. Still, he fought through the pain, and with a roaring thrust of his palm he sent the blast directly for the oil rig.
No sooner than did it leave Zu’Daba’s fingertips did he collapse onto his hand and knees; panting heavily and clutching his chest as the dull roar of flames bursting forth from the brimming rig touched his ears. He furtively pulled the ramshackle totem from his side and ran his calloused fingers over the visage of Venomclaw; turning to stare vengefully at Garax as the seemingly indomitable creature - for the first time - looked to be retreating.
He looked upon the clan - He heard the howling cries of Malashae, and the shock in the voices over the skull. This was his last act as Chief - To assure that all they had worked towards would not be in vain. The rig groaned behind him and burst open as the fires washed forth like a titanic tidal wave of heat and force; bursting through the nearby structures and showering him with shrapnel. As he clasped his arms and curled protectively around Venomclaw’s totem, he spoke one last phrase:
“H-hoowah…”
His entire form was jolted as the explosion drifted over him; flames licking over his skin as the air was sucked from his lungs. He coughed, he choked - His eyes closed as he tightened his grip around the totem and dug his knees into the dirt underneath him; never letting go, even for a moment. The flames, by some intervention, were not incinerating him… But the rest could not be averted.
Thump thump…
(For my loa…)
Thump.. Thump..
(For my clan…)
Thump… Thump…
(For my friends, my family…)
Thump…. Thump….
(For Malashae, for Mai’jani, for Mozu, Tanaji and Zazuli…)
Thump….. Thump…..
(For Tezuli, for my students…)
Thump…… Thump……
Zu’Daba felt his throat cracking - Blood spilling from within it as his entire body screamed with pain; his strength leaving him as his heart ceased to beat. His eyes were forced shut as tears opened all along his body and his lungs were drained of their air. His fingertips, jagged and torn, dug deeply into the soil to hold himself still as darkness ebbed in from all sides. Cold… Nothingness. Sleep. He could no longer feel himself, or the pain around him.
T h u m p………….. T h u m p…………..
(For me, I offer my life…)
(Please, Dark Six, I beg of you - Do not let it be in vain.)
