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The Branches Will Break

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Branches Will Break

 

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Rex Shar’ku’Gorkil sat in the Krughai Tent, gazing at the other high ranked orcs with a captivating smile on his face, making a shallow cut in his wrist as he lets the blood pour down on a specified part of the map, the crimson liquid flowing towards the lands of the wood elves.

 

This was not the first time the Rex, and other honorable Uruks, spilled their blood due to the actions of Wood Elves. Shar’ku would see to it that, this time, the blood debt the Wood Elves have accumulated over the years would finally be paid in full. Their attacks compensated with their agony, their pride replaced with pitiful screams, and their challenge to the descendants of Krug will end with their corpses piled around the great trees of Fiandria.

 

Relations had not always been so hostile between the children of Malin and Krug. The Rex remembered a time when the Wardens of the forest fought and fell alongside the orcish hordes against humans and dwarves, against endless thralls and undead lords. But that was long ago and times have changed, for the Wood Elves it would not be for the better.

 

The Rex makes a final sweep across the room with his gaze falling upon each of his fellow orcs, snarling with a glint in his eye as his maw slowly curls into a full, perhaps even wicked grin.

 

“Urukz, da wuud albai hab defiud uz fur tuu lung tik, dey tink dey ken ged aweh wid ed, dey ulweahz furget wi urukz am ztrungah dan dem, wi gu tu blah wid dem armurlezz agh diplomatikleh, agh dey try tu flat uz, dey klomp uz. Wi shull nub agyn accept diz kind uf skah frum dem, ed am tym tu kut agh burn deir treez tu da grund, myk dem ashes!”

 

The Rex raises his war cleaver off the table, drool flying between his tusks as he growls out a final declaration to his brothers and sisters of battle,

 

“Der wuud albai am leadin’ dizhunuribl livez, deh leazt wu kan du iz uffur dem redemptiun, flattunin’ in bub’hawzh-klomp! Deh onli hunuribl ting dey em capabul ub nuw iz tew flat weth ah zult in hend!”

 

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The orcs rise from their chairs one by one, their faces of mix of rage, eagerness and excitement. Two by two they file from the enormous tent, their weapons in hand, smacking with meaty thumps against their palms or clanging against their shields, chanting in their guttural Blah as a cloud of sand rises from the back of the horde’s advance, preparing for battle.

 
"WUUD TWIGGIEZ VILL FLAT!"
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-Richard removes his blunt from his lips smirking- "Death to the brown skinned it is."

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*Harek nods his head in agreement*

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Phaedrus simply watches in silence alongside Zar'roc, before returning to his work at the forge, toiling away at the ferrum and carbarum as he always has.

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Dominus Zogrocka'Rax would raise his war axe to the sky, chanting the name of his ancestors.

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"Laklul willz et!" Shreck'Lak bellows as he stands behind Zogrocka..

 

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Alirya sharpens her butterfly swords, occasionaly casting glances towards her children's room

"Orcs... Atleast they were honest but none the less enjoy their curse"she says of course oblivious to the orc's plans

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Gorgron looks down at his brother from his perch, standing next to Phaedrus.

 

"Hao da zkah ded mi evun gid up hur?"

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Aethos only hopes Shreck will inform the rest of the uruks of his difference

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Kol'Ordan grunts, as he fashions ferrum arrows for the uzg.

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Ozkar'Rax looks around, he senses a war happening but it seems he made a left turn instead of a right turn somewhere on the road. "WAYR DA ZKAH IZ MI? MI NIID TU KLOMP!" He runs off looking to fight some wood elves.

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* Sophie Greyhame the Bryophite watches "... The wood elves are doomed." * Shakes her head, afraid of what the orcs might perhaps do after destroying the wood elves

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During a trip to Cerulin, he hear's grumblings of this declaration amongst the city's people. Shaking his head, he can't help but wear a broad smile as he hears them vent their anxieties to one another. Hoping to put things into percepctive, he approaches one of these crowds to assure them of their safety.

 

"They were too terrified to battle Oren alongside both the Dwarves and Dunamis against Oren alone. We put them, as well as those Doomforges in their place early on in the war, and we've since killed the king those Orcs were negotiating with anyhow! Worry not about these men, for if they break even a branch, we will put them in the ground, so that they do not stink up your gorgeous lands, or make ugly your beautiful forests."

 

Furrowing his eyebrows, an grim tone is heard in his voice.

 

"That's a promise. Sweat not their threats, for they are just gazelles threatening grass around a great lion and her tree. Orcs who pressed their ambitions in these lands would be committing suicide."

 

Nodding curtly to the crowd, Publius returns to Petrus.

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