#stranglethorn vale

Gurubashi Blood Magic and Voodoo

Throughout the violent and unforgiving corners of Azeroth, few magical traditions are as feared—as Blood Magic. Rooted in ancient practices and fueled by ritualistic bloodletting, this dark magic has endured across tribes and centuries, often emerging in times of desperation, conquest, or corruption.

At the heart of Gurubashi blood magic lies the malevolent entity known as Hakkar the Soulflayer, the Loa of Blood. Revered and feared in equal measure, Hakkar thrives on sacrifice—his strength growing with every drop of blood spilled in his name.

Over a thousand years ago, it was Hakkar who first introduced blood magic to the Gurubashi trolls. The rituals of blood sacrifice, once obscure, became central to a growing cult around the Blood God.

|DWC February 2026, Day 2, Hide/Golden|

@daily-writing-challenge

Cw: alcoholism, survivor's guilt

Victoria stared at the uniform folded on her desk. An officer's collar, decoration, medals. She felt nauseous. She survived Legionfall, but none of her comrades had. The empty bottles on her desk spoke more than she did. Pressed, folded, neatly maintained. Gilnean colors draped over her desk. Her desk. She frowned at the thought, not for the first time. A knock interrupted her wallowing. A letter slid underneath her door. She perked up. Her steps came quick as she crossed her office, more of a glorified closet, and she stooped to pick up the letter. No envelope. Two words. "Found him." So he was in the jungle after all. She was worthless here. A desk and papers? She considered resigning and setting everything ablaze, also not for the first time. She filled out the paperwork, a leave of absence. The quill scratched at the parchment slowly, painfully. Her hand trembled. She reached for an empty bottle before realizing.

She thought of her father. "Finally going to make you recognize me." She mumbled to no one. She barely packed a bag before she hopped a Gnomish flight out to Booty Bay. ----- It had been days, weeks now, and she slammed a fist into the wooden shack's wall. It rattled. The jungle stretched forever, it seemed, and her nose still hadn't adjusted to all the smells. Locals eventually told her about him, so she knew he was there. But she had little patience left.

She rented this house, but hadn't settled in yet. A knock on the door quietly faded. She stared. A second knock. She walked over and opened it. A small child with torn, ruined clothes stood there. "They said you do alchemy cheap." 'Well spoken kid,' she thought. "Aye, depending on what you need. I can make poultices, salves, and some aside." "Pa is sick, got a fever, but he can't make it into the Bay anymore. Can you help?"

Her heart wrenched. "Yeah, alright. Let me grab my bag."

The trek through the jungle ripped at her clothes. 'Explains why his are so ruined,' she commiserated. A small clearing opened up behind a seemingly impenetrable wall of trees. A little cavern sat in the back. She found a cookfire, a dinnerpot, a few bedrolls, mats, and packs. A worgen laid out on a bed of scrap linens and wools. A girl sat next to him with a worn washcloth.

Victoria rummaged through her bag and pulled out a few vials and beakers of various mixtures and liquids. She approached the fire and quickly stoked it into a blaze. His eyes felt familiar as she stepped to the bedside. "Sir, what's your name? Can you tell me how long you've been sick? What symptoms?" "Elland." The worgen croaked in answer.

Turtle WoW Pride Parade

Small event but we kept it private to prevent trolls (not the race lol) from coming to ruin it. A GM was flying above us as a rainbow cloud to make sure everything went smoothy too. Thanks to all who came!