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King Rastakhan, the all-powerful god-king of the Zandalari trolls, presides over the once-a-generation event held in his name. The toughest trolls in history have gathered into Loa-fueled teams for this knock-down, drag-out, no-holds-barred, rough-and-tumble, beautifically brutal gladiatorial celebration of all things troll: Rastakhan’s Rumble!
In Rastakhan’s Rumble, visit the storied Gurubashi Arena in the steamy jungle of Stranglethorn Vale, a sacred place steeped in both the glories of the past and the unbound reckless joy of the fight!
Just remember the rule of the Rumble:
THERE ARE NO RULES!
Overkilling ‘em Softly
It’s not enough to strike the final blow – the brawlers at Rastakhan’s Rumble aim to entertain! Put your prowess on display with flashy, over-the-top finishes, and you’ll activate the power that the new Overkill keyword grants to your cards.
When a card with the Overkill keyword deals more damage than is required to destroy a target (on its owner’s turn), it activates a bonus effect!
We are the Champions, My Trolls
Each of the teams has a Legendary Champion—a most-valuable-rumbler who specializes in the fighting style of one of Hearthstone’s nine Classes. These mighty trolls are heroes and villains of history who have proven their mettle in previous rumbles—though there are a handful of upstarts shaking things up this year!
There is one Legendary Champion minions for each the nine Classes, and they have powers and abilities that compliment their team Loa and Spirits.
Loa on a Prayer
The Loa are incredibly powerful primal gods that have been figures of worship for thousands of years in troll culture. Each team in the Rumble has a patron Loa, who carefully picks mighty gladiators that best embody their spiritual essence.
Loa are Legendary minions who bring ancient power to the fray right alongside their team’s Champion and Spirits to gain victory!
Smells like Troll Spirit
Manifestations of each Loa’s power, Spirits are 0/3 minions that pack potent passive abilities. To help make sure you have a shot at making the most of the power you’ve been granted, each Spirit has Stealth for one round!
Often the cornerstone of the synergy between Champion and Loa, these Rare quality minions can be the backbone of a good Rumble team. Because they’re Rare, you can put two Spirits in your deck!
Rumble Run Begins December 13
Soon, you’ll be able to take up the mantle of a young, fiery, aspiring rumbler, ready to join a team and test his might against a colorful array of Rumble champions in a brand-new single-player experience: the Rumble Run!
Rikkar stood on the intricately cobbled path and gazed up at the fabled Gurubashi Arena. Ever since he was a little troll, he’d dreamt of being here, preparing to compete at the legendary Rumble. As the crowd streamed past him toward the gates, he paused to savor the moment: the thrill of anticipation on the air, the roar of the crowd in the stands, the grimaces of pain as chumps paid the scalper for last minute tickets. Nothing in the world was like Rastakhan’s Rumble!
Rikkar had spent his whole life preparing for this moment (and bought his tickets two years ago. He wasn’t foolish). Last time the Rumble was held, Rikkar was small enough to watch the action from his father’s shoulders, screaming at the top of his lungs along with the crowd as he witnessed High Priest Thekal clinch the final for the Tigers over the Sharks. He knew it then: someday HE would be down on the sands, and the crowd would be roaring HIS name!
As he joined the long line leading into the arena, the team posters that adorned the walls caught his eye. They were pristine, unlike his well-loved, but creased and faded collection back at the village.
The Tigers! Now there was a team! Rikkar could see himself earning Shirvallah’s favor and wearing the gold. He’d been training all his life: he had the eye of the tiger . . . the thrill of the fight . . . the wing of a bat . . . and a few other animal parts, just in case. Rikkar came prepared.
One thing you could say for the Bats, Hir’eek’s team knew how to get the job done. And shriek. And do absolutely anything it takes to win. Rikkar had to respect the initiative.
Why be a Bat when you could be a Rhino though? No fancy tactics or thinking. Got a problem? Smash it! Don’t got a problem? Smash it anyway! Plus, everybody loves War Master Voone. Not only are Voone’s parties legendary, rumor has it that he’s got friends in high places. Blackrock Mountain is pretty high up, right?
Rikkar couldn’t believe it. Twenty years later, he was finally part of the crowd thronging into the Gurubashi Arena. His heart was resolved: he wasn’t just here to watch the spectacle this time. He was here to compete! Somehow. . . .
He just needed a chance to prove himself!
But which team would he join? Which Loa would he pledge himself to?
There were no lines at Rastakhan’s Rumble. The motley crowd jostled, shoved, and moshed their way into the arena: the competition to get a good seat was almost as ferocious as the battle that would take place on the Arena floor! Rikkar followed the flow of the crowd, his eyes open for an opportunity to get down to the Arena floor so he could meet some of his favorite competitors—and maybe score a spot on a team!
The corridor ahead of Rikkar was packed with an unusually riotous mob; a gleefully flailing mass of trolls, dwarves, ogres, gnomes, orcs, tauren, and more, including the occasional human. The wall of rampaging Rumble fans was held in check by the Arena’s bouncers’ forbidding stares. Despite the festive mood, no one in the crowd was willing to test the resolve of the heavily-armored security team.
Rikkar threaded nimbly through the thrashing crowd, deftly dodging elbows, administering the occasional shove when necessary. As a few slightly flattened gnomes were peeled off the walls, Rikkar noticed more posters for his favorite teams (every team was his favorite).
Despite being one of the more popular Rumble teams, the Frogs had a reputation for being weird—because they were. They were also unparalleled in their mastery of troll mysticism. Let them scoff: Rikkar knew that joining Krag’wa’s team would make his talent with elemental magic blow up.
Speaking of “blowing up”, the Dragonhawks were the hottest team in the Rumble this year. Everyone was talking about how they were on fire. Literally. All the time. And everything around them. If you absolutely, positively have to torch every adversary in the Arena, accept no substitutes.
Rikkar admired Malacrass’ showmanship. Despite his team’s reputation as hot-heads, they knew how to fire up the crowd before sending the fireballs flying.
Everybody knew that Princess Talanji was a reluctant Rumbler, and everyone also knew that it didn’t matter: with her as Champion of the Zombies they were the team to beat. Rumor had it that King Rastakhan himself had made some kind of bargain with Bwonsamdi, and ever since his family (including Princess Talanji) was required to serve the Loa of the Dead. Rikkar would have joined the Zombies at the stop of a heart, deal or no deal—Bwonsamdi was one of the most powerful Loa around.
Rikkar saw an opening, and finally managed to slip past the bouncers and into the Arena! He inhaled the lovely aromas of ozone, hot steel, sand, and the press of thousands of bodies. And what’s better in the muggy, sticky, sweltering jungle heat than. . . soup? The usual funnel cake vendors were absent. Instead, enterprising Tuskarr were competing with the trolls peddling magically frozen ice cream to sell steaming bowls of stew with unidentifiable chunks floating in it.
It seemed that the Tuskarr Bros. had mistakenly shipped a huge surplus of soup to Stranglethorn instead of Northrend, but they were making the most of it. Of course, Rumble fans being Rumble fans, more soup was getting ON the crowd, than was ending up IN the crowd.
Rikkar dodged hurled soup and flying frozen treats as he searched in vain for a place to sit, but everywhere he looked the stands were already packed with roaring Rumble fans. He finally spotted a lone empty seat, all the way up by the announcer’s tower. It was as far back from the action as you could get, but it was better than nothing, wasn’t it? Swallowing his disappointment, Rikkar trudged up the many (many) stone stairs and snatched the seat before someone else could.
From this distance, floor of the arena looked like a gold coin with ants skittering on it. How was he going to get into the action from here? If he was gonna get his shot, Rikkar realized that he’d have to take drastic action. . .
After spending his whole life training in preparation, Rikkar had finally reached his goal: Rastakhan’s Rumble, the most legendary gladiatorial display in all of troll history. Which was great! He’d been forced to take one of the worst seats in the house, right by the lofty heights of the announcer’s tower, which was very not great.
Yearning burned in Rikkar’s heart like a raging dragonhawk. He longed to be down in the arena with his idols, the legendary loa and champions of the Rumble—not sharing a cloud bank with the two-headed Ogre announcer, so high up that he could almost reach out and touch the passing zeppelins.
As the booming voice of the announcer proclaimed the beginning of opening ceremonies, the teams marched into the arena. Rikkar was running out of time—there had to be something he could do! He pored over the team posters plastered on the tower, wracking his brain for inspiration.
Rikkar thought Gonk and Wardruid Loti were examples of inspiring contrast. Gonk was one of the oldest loa, and Loti one of the younger competitors in the Rumble (not to mention an advisor to King Rastakhan! And one of the most talented shapeshifters in the world!), but the two of them joined forces to open the door for young Zandalari trolls to become Druids. Loti was the inspiring leader to a pack of howling, dinosaur-jumping lunatics. Maybe he could use that!
Rikkar sympathized with Zul’jin. They had a surprising amount in common: they were both passionate, indomitable, and hungry for victory that always seemed just out of reach. Zul’jin never gave up fighting for the Amani empire, no matter how bad the odds. Or losing major pieces of his anatomy. If Zul’jin could keep fighting with one eye and one arm, how could Rikkar give up now, with two eyes and two whole arms?
Gral was not a subtle Loa. When he wanted something, he went for it, full force. He was a natural match for Captain Hooktusk and the bloodthirsty band of buccaneers she called a Rumble team. When it came to the Sharks, ruthless was a euphemism. They never played by the rules. Sometimes they’d even make up rules just for the pleasure of breaking them. Just before they broke their opponents.
Rikkar had the spark of an idea. Rastakhan’s Rumble had no rules!
He leapt into the announcer’s box, and before the ogre could react, Rikkar snatched the mic from his ham-sized fist, leaving both of the ogre’s faces goggling.
Miraculously, the crowd fell silent as Rikkar’s voice echoed across the arena, “I am Rikkar! I got no tribe, no village, and no Loa. My whole life has been lived for dis moment. Da Rumble is my tribe! Dis arena will be my home! And I claim kinship with all de Loa of the Rumble! I challenge you. I challenge all of you!”
Shocked silence stretched for what felt like an eternity.
“. . . Dere’s no rule against it!”
Outrage erupted in the arena, as the crowd and competitors alike protested Rikkar’s challenge. With her golden fur gleaming in the sun, Shirvallah the Tiger stepped forward and spoke, her voice ringing out for all to hear, “The boy is right. There is no rule, and he has a mighty heart. He claims us as his Loa, and I claim him in return. I grant him my blessing to fight with the Tigers.”
Not to be outdone (or miss a potential advantage), Hir’eek fluttered through the air and shrieked, “This one is ruthless. He will fight with the Bats, not your pathetic kittens, Shirvallah!”
One by one the other loa voiced their support, all urging Rikkar to fight alongside their teams. Rikkar could barely comprehend what had happened: he had the blessing of all nine Loa. He would finally get a chance to prove himself fighting for glory in Rastakhan’s Rumble!
The ogre announcer chuckled as he retrieved the mic. One of his heads rumbled, “Bold move, but looks like it worked out.” The other said, “Go get ‘em, kid. We’ll be rootin’ for ya.”
Rikkar beamed, tears of joy in his eyes. He couldn’t wait.