#nakos

[clawsoflightning]

A Pretty Face

    A sharp pain in the very core of his being made the Shaman take a staggering step and pause on his walk outside of Orgrimmar.   Today was supposed to be a simple day, he and his daughter were at Orgrimmar to purchase supplies for the Garrison in Alternate Draenor.  They had brought a cart full of salvage that Giz and Harllie had managed to procure there, as well as precious metals and gems that the Tauren was well aware of their value.  Haggling over prices had concluded earlier in the day, but it would still take a few hours for their purchases to be gathered and ready for pickup.  So the two of them had taken a moment to walk around the city where so much of their lives has changed.

    “Ni-hoi?<Father?>” The Shaman’s daughter, Donohma, asked in Taur-ahe, with concern in her voice as she laid her hand on his forearm, he hadn’t realized that he had brought his arm up to clutch at his chest with his hand.  The Shaman placed his other hand on hers reassuringly.  “<I am alright, Daughter.>” He responded, “<Yet something is severely out of balance here.>”

    Donohma immediately looked around for danger, the young Sunwalker’s instincts for danger not as sharp as her Father’s experience. “<Be at ease,>” He told her, “< the threat is subtle . . . insidious.>” Taking a calming breath the Shaman opened himself to senses that he had trained and sharpened for decades as a member of the Earthen Ring. There was something immediately wrong, a vile scent in the air. Closing his eyes, the Shaman let his head move from the right, to the left, homing in on the disturbance.  Once he is certain he is looking in the direction of the problem.  He opened his eyes and found him staring at one of Orgrimmar’s bulwarks built under Garrosh’s rule.

    “<That’s. . . . strange.>” He murmurs, starting to walk slowly towards the wall, looking for anything out of the ordinary.  These massive defenses had been pounded into the earth, uprooting the ground, and the plant life of the arid climate of Durotar found it difficult to flourish near the metal wall.  Yet. . . . “<Well now. What are you?>” he murmured to himself. Just under a spiked section of the wall, flowers grew.  White blossoms that bled to pink along the edges.  As he walked closer to the flowers, he held his hand out as a warning for his daughter to stay back.  He could hear her grumble, but he was focused now.  As beautiful as these flowers were, the Shaman could sense the inherit danger there.  He crouched an held out hand, palm out, still several feet from the plant, trying to sense the nature of the threat.

    It was the taste of the magic that brought the memory unbidden. . . The monstrosity of a black dragon loomed before him, red, burning lava seen pulsing through cracked skin, the dragon seemed bloated, and it looked like the thick titanium planes bolted to his scales were the only thing keeping the dragon from bursting like an over ripe melon.  “I WILL TEAR THIS WORLD APART!” the dragon howled. Deathwing, the corrupted Earthwarder. The magics he bludgeoned the Earthmother as he tore apart whole regions of the planet. Those magics tasted like. . .

    “<The Old Gods.>” The Shaman opened his eyes, the ever-returning threat to Azeroth.  It seemed that those vile beings would never stop trying to twist and corrupt the Earthmother.  His daughter had crept closer, despite her Father’s warning, “<What was that Father?>” She asked cautiously, not sure if she was going to get a stern lecture for not following his directions.

    The Shaman turned and looked down at his calf, “<Donohma, gather our supplies and return to the Garrison immediately.  Once you get there, go ask Giz and Harllie if they have anything from the Titans that can be used to combat or nullify the magics of the Old Gods.>” He looked at the flowers, he couldn’t just obliterate them with a lightning bolt, that could unintentionally spread the corruption further.

    “<But Father, where will you be?>” the young Sunwalker asked.  Nakos Stonehooves, Elder Shaman of the Earthen Ring looked down at his daughter, “<I must return the Thunder Bluff, I have a few contacts in the Cenarion Circle that I must speak with, as well as report this to the Earthen Ring. Now go.>” His daughter obeyed without question and Nakos prayed to the Earthmother that the quirky Blood Elf, Harllie, would have some secret Titan artifact, she dug around in the depths of Ulduar all the time, looking for Titan Relics.  He looked again at the flowers. ‘Death hides itself behind a pretty face this time.’ He strode off to retrieve his Wyvern, this would be a long day.

((Mentions to @ma-at-thought, @we-the-faceless and @the-handmaidens-collective for references and the plot.))

[clawsoflightning]

Drumbeats of the soul

Thrummm - - - Thrum, thrum, thrummm - - - Thrum, thrum, thrummm - - -

The snow continued to fall at Frostwall, which wasn’t unexpected, it snowed quite a bit in Frostfire.  The Shaman continued to beat the drum with an easy rhythm.  Dressed in his shamanic kilt and vest, the powerful muscles of the Tauren were easily seen, his fur still a deep black, even if he was getting the first signs of grey with his age on his pelt. His bone white horns showed the markings of battle, scrapes and nicks marring the smooth surface.  Other signs of battles were the faint scars on the Shaman’s body, including a pink line on his muzzle.  His hair had been wound into three thick braids and the wraps holding the hair in place was adorned with small decorations that matched the metal of his nose ring.  

Thrummm - - - Thrum, thrum, thrummm - - - Thrum, thrum, thrummm - - -

Rote and ritual, honor and duty, teacher and warrior, there was a balance to all things in life. As an Elder member of the Earthen Ring, the Shaman had done his best over the last decade to maintain that balance, as well as guide others in finding harmony in their lives.  The events of the last decade made maintaining that critical balance difficult at best.  The Shaman’s Lifemate was killed during the Lich King’s assault of Orgrimmar, an event that left his then ten year old daughter without a mother and made him choose the path of soldier of the Horde in addition to Teacher of the Earthen Ring.  Not long after the defeat of Arthas, Deathwing the Destroyer emerged and the Earthmother herself buckled and wailed under the corrupted Earthwarder’s assault. The Earthen Ring struggled to mend the elements and the very planet itself, and the Shaman had to balance raising his calf while fighting the corruption of the Old Gods and the minions of Deathwing.

Thrummm - - - Thrum, thrum, thrummm - - - Thrum, thrum, thrummm - - -

Fortunately, the universe proved once again that balance was inherit to its makeup.  Deathwing was defeated, never again to terrorize Azeroth, and from the mists of the unknown, Pandaria was revealed.  A wondrous land, where harmony flowed in the rivers, caressed you in the wind, the very continent is a breath of fresh air.  And even though the Horde and Alliance brought the dangers of the Sha to the surface, harmony prevailed, with the Sha being driven back at every turn.  Then Garrosh Hellscream’s madness settled in.  The death of Cairne Bloodhoof at the hands of the orc and treachery of Magatha Grimtotem was a blow to the Tauren as a people.  While the Tauren recoiled, Garrosh began a campaign of bigotry and hatred for any race that was not an orc, and in the end, the Horde had to remove their Warchief by force.  The wounds inflicted will take much time to heal.

Thrummm - - - Thrum, thrum, thrummm - - - Thrum, thrum, thrummm - - -

Now the Shaman found himself on an Alternate version of Draenor, a crazed Garrosh Hellscream was finally put down, the Iron Horde was forced back and the universe took another breath, trying to sigh in relief.  As with all things, time moved ever forward and things continued to change and grow.  His daughter found her connection to An’she, had become a Sunwalker, and was striking out on her own.  For all the respect he had form his fellow members of the Earthen Ring, for all the honor he had earned as a warrior of the Horde, for all the experience he had had during his 80 years of life, it still did not blunt the ache in his heart when he came home to an empty longhouse.  He tried to fill the void that all parents have when their child leaves the nest. Took seemingly random strangers under his wing, from a business minded Goblin, to a quirky Blood Elf who had a intuit talent for engineering and Titan relics.  And even if these choices appeared odd to an outsider, the Shaman knew in his heart that he was doing the right thing for these people.

Thrummm - - - Thrum, thrum, thrummm - - - Thrum, thrum, thrummm - - -

It still didn’t fully stop the ache, his daughter was all he had left of his Lifemate, and it had been a long time since he heard her voice on the winds. With a sigh, Nakos Stonehooves, Elder Shaman of the Earthen Ring, gave voice to the sorrow of his heart, but also the pride for his people, and how they continued to endure.  In the rhythm of the drum, he sought balance. . . .

[reverie07]

Sabados con mi gente! #nopalero #nakos #locas #familia @jabonafide @foxx_sea @nakovsnako

[jonagracimarti]

viva mexico

viva mexico !!!!

que cura tienen de andar en el carro a toda velocidad bueno a todo ruido,con sus nakadas a todo volumen , bonita forma de festejar mecos , por algo estan bien pinches jodidos