The Clan Of The Doomforge

[chaotikal 2392]

 

 

“Far in the south, where cold stains the land, low deep, in ruins of old, there lays an ancient being. lurking amongst shadows and scourge; The Doomforged rise. Do not linger, do not be fooled, for their ferocity, is not dull.

 

Take thine sword, and haul it over the mountain, where the light hits the peak, for under the shadow of the hill, lays your certain death, your final perish. Delving into the dark of the caverns, a fiery stare glares back at you, controlling you, heart stricken. Take thine sword, and haul it over the mountains.”

 

Lore

 

Long ago, in the lands called Aegis, Urir Ireheart, a renown dwarf of Kal’Urguan, found himself travelling to what seemed the last shelter of the Dwarves; A refugee camp. Urir was almost running into his destination, knowingly to be soon preparing a plan for the last desperate blow to the Undead forces. He feels like he misses something, but he is in much hurry to remember. He continues, but suddenly, with a rash shove to his shoulder, someone stops him. “U-Urir!” Faeyin screamt. Urir came to a halt. “F’eyin!” Urir turns without hesitation as he looks at her, her gaze drilling into him as he remains silent for a brief moment before speaking. “W’ere ye been lass, ah’ve been luukin’ fer ye all over!” Faeyin seems to carry some odd object in her hand, a basket of some sorts covered with clothes in an attempt to hide it’s content inside, Urir quickly snaps as he hears Valen shout. “Hurry Urir, we ‘ave tae’ prepare!” Urir insists to see what is in the basket, she refuses as Urir lunges his arm forward, gripping the clothes and yanking them away, he freezes as the sight of three ash grey skinned Dwarves laying in the basket, the emotion of anger quickly fades away as a faint yet gentle smile appears across his face, the sight of his sons quickly calming him. “Faeyin, what in Urguan’s name...” She abruptly yanked the blankets away from him, turning around and shielding the basket of infants with her body. She glared over her shoulder icily at him, the look telling Urir all he needed to know; She hadn’t wanted him to know about the children, and even worse, she didn’t want him to have them. Urir quickly grew angry again, glowering up at the woman as he clenched his hands into tight fists. “Ye were plannin’ on keepin’ this from me, weren’t ye?! My own bloodeh sons!” Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke, his upper lip curling upwards as he took a hard stomp forwards, closer to her. In return she took a wide step back, unleashing a feral growl, like that of a lioness protecting her cubs. “They’re not yours. They’re mine, my sons, my children, mine to take care of! Don’t you dare...” Faeyin’s sentence was cut short as Urir suddenly grabbed at the front of her dress, pulling her forward. She let out a gasp, either of surprise, or fear, or simply anger as he began to speak in a low angry tone. “,T’ey be ours” She looked at him quizzically, trying to decipher his face, which usually showed little emotion, hard as rock. She tried to walk away, but she was pulled back by Urir “W’ere ye goin’!?” Urir roared. “These are my children!” She took a step forward. “Nay! T’ese be ours.” Urir, hesitantly, tried to touch one of the babies with his free-hand. Faeyin, rather frustrated,   and deeply disappointed, allowed him to do so. Urir’s face formed a perturbing, yet fatherly smile, as he played with Iban’s hair. He let go of her dress, lifting Hodir up, however, his face was rock-hard once again. He grabbed him harshly, holding him with his arms, at eye-level. “Ye’ be of me brood, boi?” He asked him, rhetorically. He noticed the obvious stub under the child, and the features of his own face, his nose, the nose of a dwarf. “Ye’ be a Ire’eart” Urir said, Hodir only able to look at his father’s eyes. The baby began crying, since he was beginning to feel cold, away from the grasp of his mother. Hodir was placed back into the care of his mother once again. Urir was holding to his innards what tears come to one who finds out he’s a father, but his pride overcame his parenthood. He could only express his emotions in one simple action; He leaned forward, forcing Faeyin to kiss his lips. She let out a muffled noise, disgruntled by his actions, and tried to push him away, to no avail. When he finally pulled away, she started walking away, but was stopped as Urir grabbed onto her arm roughly. Knowing it would be futile to try to get away from him, she allowed herself and the children to be drug off, towards the Alrasian Refugee Camp. They reached the camp, and he gave Faeyin shelter in his own tent, much to her chagrin. “Listen, Faeyin. These’re my sons, and I want ‘em raised as dwarven children should be.” He spoke with a voice tinged with sadness,crossing his arms as he looked down upon the children. “I’m not letting you of all people raise my children.” She spoke, angrily and loudly, and he suddenly knelt down beside her, interrupting her. “Oi’m nae’ lettin’ tae’ Undead follow us tuu’ t’is new land. Oi’m nae’ lettin’ ‘em haunt my children loike they’ve haunted us. Faeyin, oi’m going tuu’ bloodeh kill ‘em all, and oi’m gonna go down with ‘em” She narrowed her eyes at him quizzically as he continued speaking. “I’m givin’ ‘em to Thorik to raise. You got two choices; Go with ‘em and live in the new Dwarven lands, where’ver they are, and help him raise my sons, or...” She spoke up, standing to her full height as she left the basket with the infants on the ground. “They’re mine, not yours. You can’t have them, the Dwarves can’t have them. I’ll raise them how I want to, I don’t give a damn what you-” Her sentence was cut abruptly short as Urir’s fist landed square on her face, sending her flying backwards, landing with a hard ‘thump’ on the ground. “Option twuu’, ye never see ‘em again.” He growled angrily, picking the basket up and stepping over the unconscious dark elven woman. He quickly exited the Camp, leaving her there as he headed a short sprint down the road to the Blackened Portal which lead to the Verge...and to his son’s safety.

 

Whatever beasts roamed the decrepit ruins that the Verge Portal first let out into were no match for Urir’s axe. He barely even noticed the various spiders biting at him or zombies clawing at him as he hurried through the ruins, up the spiral staircase until he finally reached the light of day. Immediately he could feel which direction to go, as the rush of people, refugees, politicians, families, royalty all converged upon one singular direction; That of their future, that of the ships of their respective nations, including Kal’Urguan’s.

 

Urir boarded the Dwarven ship with basket in hand and entered the Captain’s Quarters as he greeted his fellow Dwarves, those he considered his own flesh and blood, Kjell, Kragor, Valen and Thorik stood together discussing their plans against the Undead as Urir sets the basket on the table. He looks into Thorik’s inquisitive gaze, moving the basket’s blanket with his eyes. Urir reveals the three ash-skinned babies. At first, Thorik gestures with a frown, to which Urir nods at. “T’ese be me’ sons...” He explains, sounding proud, yet eerily sad. He feels a hand on his shoulder, looking up, he sees Thorik’s hand. “Ah understand.” He says shortly. The scene, turns into grieving silence, completely opposite to what is outside, where people fight over food, ramble over nothing, and scream from one side to the other. Urir breaks the silence “Ah need ye tuu’ look after ‘dem...Ah dunnae want t’em ‘armed, Thorik.” He explains. “Aye, oi’ll make sure ta’ raise ‘em as me own an’ tell ‘em tales of how great t’eir fat’er was.” Urir nods, looking down at the basket as Thorik shelters the three.

 

Urir had precious little time to spend with his sons, and soon Kjell and Valen made it clear it was time to go. They left the ship with a parade of Dwarves following, cheering them on as the champions of Kal’Urguan. The horns trumpeted them all the way back to Aegis, then down the road to Laurelin, where the final stand against the Undead would be started. Though it would not be made there, for this time, the fight would be brought to the Undead. Cheers erupt from the watching crowds, Urir grinning and waving boisterously, more than happy to accept the praise. Out of the corner of his eye he seems to spy two glowing, purple eyes in the crowd, but he quickly writes it off, taking his place among the Champions of the other nations. He pays no mind to whatever speeches are given, watching the crowd. He glares at the Ascended who is bestowing Aerial’s blessing on the arms of the Champions, Urir refuses and snarls, “Ah dunnae’ need a blessin’ ‘o tha’ wench!” Urir says as he positions himself before the portal prematurely, as Thorik makes an appearance. He beckons for Urir to come over, who looks at him quizzically, approaching warily. Thorik chuckles “Ye’ goin’ like ‘tat?” He motions to his armor. Thorik shouts, as two dwarves approach, carrying a golden chest. “T’is me friend, is w’at ye gunnae wear.” Thorik says filled with confidence, ordering the two keepers of the chest to open it. Inside, a beautiful armor, crafted of a strange-looking diamond, seeming more in the tint of scales, the shoulder pads, with two runes each, both glowing strong. Urir looked at it, awe-struck. He recognized it from the myths and children’s tales; Urguan’s armor. “Tis’ armor was crafted by Urguan an’ was given tuu’ tae’ first Braveaxe, ‘tis armor ‘as saved me an’ me ancestors countless ‘o toimes an’ is ‘e relic ov tae’ Dwarves, now get in t’ere an’ show t’ose Undead scum whae’ we Dwarves are made of!” Urir stomped his foot once and let out a loud “Yarrr!”, he equipped the armor and extended his hand, Thorik grabs it as they embrace each other firmly, Urir pats Thorik on the back before he lets go of him, slowly retreating back into the cheering crowd as he speaks his final words towards Thorik. “May we meet again in Khaz-A-Den’trumm, brot’er.” Urir quickly ran back towards the portal after donning Urguan’s armor, pushing other champions out of the way, angry that he was not first. As he enters, the drone of the cheering crowd outside slowly fades, with one final sentence burning into his ear drums: “I hope you burn in the Nether Urir!” It is quickly drowned out by the agonizing screams of men and women alike, fellow champions laying dismembered as the thick smell of burning flesh hits Urir’s nostrils. Urir ran as he saw Kjell falter in the corner of his eye but did not stop.. His heart told him to stop for his companion, but his brain made his legs keep going. Valen too quickly fell behind as he became swarmed by Undead spawn, but there was nothing Urir could do for him as he quickly ascended the first Pinnacle where he stood before the sacrificial pit. A Human champion stood next to him as Urir muttered silently “We all ‘ave ta’ mayke sacrifoices.”, quickly planting his Axe into the Human’s rear as he falls to his knees, grasping the wound as Urir kicks him over into the pit, a path appearing before him leading towards the Axe of Krug.

 

Before him lay no more Champions, as he was the only to survive thus far, though the survival of the others did little to stall him. Without stopping to admire the Axe, he ran by, dropping his own and grabbing it with both hands as he did so. He smirked to himself as he felt the weight of the axe as it slid through the beasts of the nether like a knife through butter. “Now this be a foine weapon. Shame it’s gotta go!” He muttered to himself, letting out a loud, arrogant laugh as he slammed it clean through the skull of a zombie, leaping over the corpse and onto the next challenge.

 

It wasn’t long before Urir had bested all the traps and trials the Undead had laid before and after the Axe of Krug. It was with a great, unnatural haste that he soon reached the Nexus, the source of the Undead’s power, and where he, and the Axe, would meet their final fates. He shut his eyes as he approached it, perhaps to avoid being corrupted by it’s taint, or perhaps for reasons of reminiscing. He instead ran straight forwards, a wide grin coming to his face as the faces of his friends, allies, compatriots, and most importantly, family, all passed before him at a terrifying speed as he neared the edge of the Nexus. As he felt the ground disappear beneath his feet, as he dove axe-first towards destiny, he muttered one last thing to himself: “Burn ah will, Fe’yin.”

 

And burn he did, as did Aegis, as did the Undead in their tomb which was the former home of the Four Races. The ships set sail, following the setting sun as the clues had foretold, and into the distance. Thorik himself stayed with Urir’s children throughout the boat ride, leaving only to issue orders to his men, through the snow and hail, the rain and lightning, the bombardment by other ships. And in time they reached Asulon, at which point the Four Races went their separate ways, and though the sons of Urir were of two races, they went instead with the dwarves, guarded and kept safe in the new home of the Dwarves, in the Mountains of Karik. Here they were raised, here they were honored for their Father’s deeds, though here too they were labelled heretics and hated. Thorik’s word to Urir held true, and he guarded and raised the sons like his own, till the day of his death. Lost in the political chaos and cultural squabbles in the aftermath of Thorik’s assassination, the three brothers left the lands of the dwarves behind, though they did so grudgingly.

 

As their Father had found his purpose in fighting the Undead, the three brothers would need to find purpose in something other than their father’s legacy. Though in so great a shadow as that of Urir Ireheart’s, they sometimes felt it impossible to find their own destiny. It was on their extensive journeys throughout the lands of Asulon that they would find that which would give them their place, their own place, separate from that of their Father’s. Through the thick ice and snow of the lands of Hanseti the brothers travelled, and either by luck, or instinct, or just their desire for warmth, they took shelter in an alcove as the sun set on the horizon. And perhaps it was destiny, or luck, or just curiosity which drove the brothers to investigate the alcove further, finding it to be not a simply cave, but rather the entrance to something larger, and much grander. Pulled by fate through the darkened tunnels and dimly lit crevices, it was on their last set of torches that they discovered that which would give them meaning; The ruins of Asgol as they named it, that which would hold their namesake within: The Doom Forge.

 

 

Soon came the lands known as Elysium, as the Doomforge escaped the grasp of the Lysitrata. In this land, centered around a Volcano, the Doomforge set their forge on the top of said volcano, where they lived peacefully... Until said volcano did what it was meant to do; burst out in a fiery spilling of ash and lava. The volcano erupted, shooting the Forge over a nearby farm, as the people of the new, but hostile land were required to escape. The Doomforge tied the forge to a boat and took it to the new world, Anthos, a world that screamt the word of peace, yet, seemed to be covered by a blanket of darkness and... Cold.

 

Anthos was not welcoming to the Doomforge. After settling and founding Kal’Urir near the dwarven city, they were attacked by corrupted Snow Elves, they fought them, and alarmed the kingdom... A new evil was rising in the snow. The Dwarves fought valiantly but Hodir was lost in one of the battles against the spawns of the new evil; Ordnarch, an old god reborn into hate. After the battle against Ordnarch, the Dwarves recomposed themselves, although Doomforge decided to reclude to mourn their losses in Kal’Urir.

Then came Fringe, and Thales. On these lands the Doomforge kept themselves away from conflict, although they went into the red realm to fight, along with all the races, the threat that was the Black Wyrm Setherien. Having succeeded, nothing would ever be the same again.

 

 

Clan Members

 

Alive

 

Dormin; son of Hodir, Clan Father of the Doomforge. [Darkjames]

 

Demagol; son of Iban [Greenpelt201345]

 

Andermendin; son of Yorri [baronVonDietz]

 

Angrom, son of Andermendin [Areontrade]

 

Barundin, son of Andermendin [Thor92299]

 

Yorik, son of Dormin [simplePancake]

 

 

 

Banished - The Brightiron, Blighters of the Undead

 

 

Vadin The Slave [Raelplayer]

 

Velrok The Follower [italian_Assassin]

 

Deceased

 

Yorri; son of Urir and Faeyin. [itechify / Iblees]

 

Gungrim, son of Hodir [WizardInABox]

 

(BANISHED) Virak The Stranger [Grunmin]

 

Missing

 

Thargas; son of Hodir [7lo/Sultan_Mogroka]

 

Bor; son of Iban [trolol504]

 

Rhona; daughter of Yorri [Mezua]

 

Hraaken; Son of Dormin [Owl_7]

 

Grum, son of Iban [battlme]

 

Ulgrim; son of Iban [Vekaro]

 

Urric; son of Iban [Craotor]

 

Irila; daughter of Iban [irene42]

 

Norgrim; son of Yorri [NoobCrafter14]

 

Dorri; son of Yorri [Ziko99]

 

Hodir; son of Urir and Faeyin. [Goldrim]

 

Iban; son of Urir and Faeyin. [Kahzo]

 

Dagran; son of Hodir. [CaptainBrock]

 

 

The Runes Of The Flesh

 

Introduction

 

The Flesh Runes, runes of the body, have been a mistery dating back to the discovery of the Doomforge. While they seem to carve this on their bodies, similar carvings have been found on the hilt of their weapons, and even some of their victims. They seem to be taxed with a great deal of pain when triggering said runes. It has been considered a behaviour of masochistic caracteristics, and borderline cannibalism. The only one with knowledge of crafting Flesh Runes is Dormin Doomforge.

 

Discovery of the Kathiik

 

The walls of Kal'Asgol, hidden in secrets and whispers of ancient times. There was the entire history of the city written within it's build, from it's creation, to Dormmar's rise, to it's unevitable fall. One bit of it caught Hodir and Dormin's interest, later on Iban's; The Rememberance Chamber, where it was explained in ancient dwarvish the creation, usage and instruction on runes carved into the body of the user, his weapon and his victims. Runes that could empower the user, deal pain to their victims, or empower the weapon of the user when both parts came together. Hodir asked Iban to analyze the runic writing on these type of smithing, and after years of rediscovering instructions on these runes, Iban found the way to craft them into Hodir's body. He then taught Hodir roughly how to encarve them, but dedicated a great deal of time teaching Hodir's child, Dormin, who was still a beardless lad at the time, all about his findings.

 

The Flesh Runes are usually runic encarvements of ancient dwarvish on straight patterns, and they usually take up their coloring in the pattern set. Red usually means the rune will have an empowering in strength or other offensive caracteristics of the user, Blue, on the other part, will increase the user's defenses. There's also a few other type, rarer runes. Runes without glow, that deal great pain or can break bones to anyone whose applied. White runes and black runes have also been found, but they seem to only represent a heirarchy rather than actual usage.

 

 

 

Dormmar

 

 

 

Dormmar, also called The Lord Of Asulon, was a Dwarf King who hailed from Kal’Urguan, and moved with the Derva, if not leading them, towards Asulon, new lands, and new conquest. He was known as the Rune Lord and he conquered many lands, including Kal’Asgol and Kal’Karik. These two were the kingdoms, one below the now known Tainted Asulonian lands of Hanseti, and the other in the Asulonian Dwarven kingdom. Dormmar was a wise Dwarf, dark in skin and ushering in glare. He had a knack for forging, and he, among other blacksmiths, forged the entire hall using nothing but their hammers, smashing into the stone, turning rock into art. Dormmar was known to have created a runic language on his own, then spreading it to the other Asulonian dwarves, while Dwarves developed their own runic language. He is a recognized God of the Brathmordahkin, known as The Flesh Lord and the Lord of Conquest.

 

Dormmar’s said to have a direct communication flow with The Doomforge, more real than any of the other deities in the Kvirja Dverga. It is thought this is due to the Hammer of Dormmar and the Doom Forge, his famous forge.

 

Dormmar first granted the magic to the Dwarves after witnessing what he deems, even today, the most sinister, utterly horrendous pillage, death-striving skirmish. Dwarves were happily mining their way through the core of Neywä itself, as they stumbled an already hollow cave. They stumbled forwards, bringing in the warriors from the upper levels of the kingdom, incase trouble aflew. They were in the right, A few renegade mages, who had devoted their life to kill the Dwarves who had rampaged and took over their sanctuary over to a Daemon, had trampled the Dwarves face-first into a trap. The Dwarves were under-handled, as their hammers couldn’t reach the fireballs of the attackers, some even casted ice upon them. Dormmar saw this skirmish, and saw the corpses of his beloved race on the ground, gouging for air, yet, all they could swallow was blood. From that day, Dormmar began working on a language. A language so powerful, that could tear through the very threads of The Void, and evoke permanent power into the land, which could be embedded to this powerful words, engraved into weapons, armors, and later, to the very user. This magic was instructed to the first Dwarves, fervent followers of the Kirkja Dverga, and they soon handled it quite well, attuning themselves to the Language like no other, the concepts being easy for a Dwarf to master

However, upon stranger eyes, these concepts would be impossible to grasp. Dormmar, upon seeing his creation, decided to grant upon the mortals his anvil, the first runic anvil, called by the Dwarves; "The Doom Forge" whilst in reality, it is of neutral alledgement. These anvil, upon others granted by the other Aenguls and Daemons, overseers of the kin, granted even furthermore power to the Dwarves, who soon grew as powerful as the Elven, Human mages, and the Orc Shamans

The Dwarves would carve the runic words on walls, soon making this language a secret and sacred tongue. These carvings could tell the entire civilization's history, such as Karik's walls, and Asgol's walls in the land of Asulon. Runes could affect both weapons, armors, and users, making themselves of a high reputation amongst other races, considered, of noble-tailor, or, exclusive to nobles. Whilst partly-true, these Runes were mostly applied to Clan-Lords, Kings and other type of honor-bound nobles of the Dwarven Kingdom, with the exception of great smiths, mythical warriors, and heroes within the kingdom.

 

This Runic Language, called Initär Norváthiik by the Dwarves was by far a complex, filled with substantial words, strange, mixedly-embarking words and odd definitions, which the mere concept is now lost to time. Dormmar, or Terwálan in the Initär Norváthiik, created this language, with one purpose in mind, to make magic for Dwarves, who were vastly upper-handed by other races and their own magical powers, and not for a conversation. However, later on, it was found on several walls, of Chants using this language, which can be roughly translated to common, yet it loses much of it’s honor “cost” as most of it are definitions now drifted away in the minds of the elder Dwarves. While other races didn’t like dwelling with the Dwarves, some Humans and Elves tried to attain this art, yet failed horribly, and many died, all due to their relationship to The Void. Said relationship, when it came to Dwarves, was too lesser, to be considered none.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Doom Forge

 

The Doom Forge. The reason this clan carries it's name is this legendary forge, dating back to the first years of Asulon. Crafted by the Derva themselves, this forge is used to craft powerful runic items, and is known to only work with Asgolian metal, as steel is too feeble for the strength of this forge. The heart of the forge is the only thing the Doomforge can carry through the lands, it's anvil. And it's the only thing they need. The forge itself has been defragmented into parts to be assembled when the Doomforge find a home.

 

 

Appearence

 

The Doomforge are distinct in their appearence; They are the merge of Dark Elves and Dwarves, they are always found to be dark skinned, with a purplish tone to the skin. Darker hair colors are common, although fiery orange is not unheard of. Their eyes are their more descriptive caracteristic, since they have a fierce full red and orange glare, with a dim glow to them. They're short, and usually have long elven ears. Their beards grow just like a Dwarves, but it is known that it takes much longer to groom them than that of a Dwarves, as it grows grizzly and curled.

 

 

 

 

Lineages & Bloodlines

 

Line of Dormin:

 

Dormin's line or Hodir's blood lineage are dwarves known to be witty and simple worded. They usually are easy to anger but not so easy to offend. They will kill you, but then will be drinking ale with you if you pay. They're usually darker haired than their brethren, and have a much more crimson shine to their eyes. Most of Dormin's line are known to be well rounded Dwarves, with warriors like Hodir and smiths like Dormin.

 

 

Yorri's Line:

 

Yorri's line is caracterized by a ginger hair, darker skin and usually more orange lava-tinted eyes. Yorri's line is usually more on the smarter side of the Clan, these usually excell at scribing and absorbing new knowledge. It is known that Yorri discovered Kal'Asgol and was blessed by Dormmar himself.

 

 

Line of Iban;

 

The Lineage of Iban is similar to Dormin's, with darker hair, yet their eyes seem to be more yellow than red, and they have lighter skin. They tend to be less patient and seem easier to be offend. It is known that Iban was a great warrior blessed by Dungrimm with great strength.

 

 

 

Halls & Holds

 

Asulon - Kal’Asgol

 

Kal’Asgol was one of the first kingdoms of the Derva. It was taken by the Doomforge upon finding it in ruins. Known treasures within it were the Hammer of Dormmar, the Doom Forge, and creatures called the Bokkanym, which were sprouted to life by the power of the Doom Forge.

 

Elysium - Doom’s Peak

 

Doom’s Peak was the volcano in Elysium which was claimed by the Doomforge on it’s conquest stage. It was unstable, but the Doomforge enjoyed it’s warmth, as it reminded them of the volcano rivers in Asgol.

 

Anthos - Kal’Urir

 

 

Kal’Urir was the first hold built completely by Doomforges, it was built onto the side of a mountain, the tallest mountain on the Dwarven Valley. It’s underground levels were plagued with Ordnarch’s minions, the Snow Elves.

 

Athera - Khaz’a’Kadrin

 

The hall in Kal’Karaad. This hall holds many secrets, as it was used as an ancient Forge Hall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Behaviour

 

 

Doomforged are very mysterious, secluded, but other clans know it wise to not make a Doomforged angry, as they are usually very strong and easily annoyed. The Doomforged are known to have an erratic behaviour, with some performing heroic deeds, while others take a darker path.

 

The Doomforge are extremely nice to those who honor Urir and their lineage, but they tend to be extremely hostile to those who doubt their honor or judge them by their elven heritage. Most Doomforge are extremely dependant on their honor and they will defend it no matter who defies it, be it a Dwarf, Elf, or a Ghost.

 

Application

 

RP Name:

 

 

 

 

MC Name:

 

Which Lineage?:

 

Age?:

 

 

 

 

[Kickstarted and Running 965]

((Doesn't Sky have a Doomforge?))

[chaotikal 2392]

((Grumnin is Sky.))

[Kickstarted and Running 965]

((My bad))

Frederick shudders, though is unsure why. It's as if a great evil has returned...

[chaotikal 2392]

 

 

A thunder lingers the cave of the Doomforge. Something is occuring, obscure... A shadow at the works. The yelling of the Doomforge is heard as if ordering to each other, as if working in something together.

[Areon 947]

Angrom grumbles, wiping his hands and glancing around the new Hall, his people had returned to Urguan.

[chaotikal 2392]

 

 

The noise of Doomforge working on Khaz'A'Kadrin booms around Kal'Karaad.

[Tirenas 677]

Should probably update your clan roster and announce a proper Clan Father.

[Aryon 679]

RP Name: Yorik Doomforge

 

MC Name: SimplePancake

 

Which Lineage? Dormin's Line

 

Age? 37

[chaotikal 2392]

Aryon, on 20 Jan 2015 - 02:50 AM, said:

RP Name: Yorik Doomforge

 

MC Name: SimplePancake

 

Which Lineage? Dormin's Line

 

Age? 37

 

 

Accepted

[Sky 0]

Virak is dead, as well as the Brightiron clan name was ditched almost instantly after being given it.

[ThumperJack 927]

Should probably update your clan roster and announce a proper Clan Father.

((We do not acknowledge a clan father, rather we all treat one another with equal respect.

[!]

The pounding of the Hammer upon steel is heard from within

the Doomforged Hall. Demagol's voice is as well heard, singing a low

dwarven song as he strikes the metal

[Snake Plissken 637]

Hraaken Doomforge is sighted waddling about Kal'Karaad cursing at various things and people.

 

Edit: He soon finds himself in a fight with a human he believed to be an 'Akovian spy'. Due to being completely unarmed, he is slain by the human, but not before getting in a few good hits of his own. He later wakes up at the Cloud Temple and waddles on back to Kal'Karaad, still searching for,

"T'at fookin' coont Dormin".

[TavernLich 324]

RP Name: Grallin Doomforge

 

 

 

 

MC Name: Redxophos

 

Which Lineage?: Yorri

 

Age?: 59

[chaotikal 2392]

Accepted, Redxophos, Added.