The End draws Close

[the 1 bow 1112]

The Rex walked through Gundz'koth dwarfing the mighty Orcs of the Iron Uzg as he went. They were by no means small, he was just particularly large. The Snow Elves cowered and made underhanded moves to retain what morale they had left, but they had been out smarted. Their allies drained, their faith abandoned, their men deserting, the end was drawing close for the tribes of Fenn. Ologs and Goblins built and prepared siege equipment, and Warlords discussed the battle plans, and the return of the Iron Waaagh. The War Machines of Vailor would return to fight along side the Green Tide. Shuddering in fear, the Snelves hauled up in their ramshackle of a capital, resigned to their fate. It drew closer...closer.

 

The Rex entered the shop of his cousin, Thurak. The old Orc, Goj and Motsham of the Uzg sat in the dimly lit corner, his aged eyes locked in battle with the words on the pages. 

 

"Throm'ka, Kahn." Thurak said. The notorious Rex sat down with a grunt, looking at the ornaments or burbles scattered across the shop. Even though he frequented Thurak's store, Kahn still found the contents outlandish, even by Orc standards. Nevertheless, the Rex spoke in his signature deep gutteral accent. 

 

"Armageddon foh da Znow Elvez iz around da kornah. Da Znow Elvez kling tu wot hope dey have left, bekoz ah allow dem tu. Bud ah digrezz, ah am kuriouz tu ged da zpiritz opinionz on diz konkwezt." Thurak dragged out a long exhale before softly putting the book down on the table. His purple eyes met the Rex's blazing red eyes for but a moment before he turned, seemingly staring into the void.

 

"Enrohk iz dizpleezed our foe are kowardz. Dere zkullz be dat of da weak..." The Rex let out another grunt, knowing this to be true. "Yub...ah peep id. Dere leader, da self proklaimed 'Grand Prinze'...ah eagle hoverz over hiz head...bud he iz alzo da eagle..." The High Shaman turned his gaze to the Rex, "Lat gruk dis message?" Kahn nodded. He left Thurak's shop, and as he returned to the scorching heat of the desert he saw it. Behind a crowd of bustling Orcs, it stood prominently for but a second, appearing only in Kahns eyes.

 

 

A horned raven sat perched ontop of one of the great stone pillars of Gundz'koth, locking eyes with the Rex. He let out a chuckle.

 

"Lat shuda ran wen lat hahd da chanze."

Fear the Iron Tide

[Silent™ 552]

The cracked skull of the Rex sits on a pike in the Princedom, dried decaying pieces of flesh still clinging to the malformed bone. Over the past few months, Sylen had looked every day he walked past at the Rex's head sitting upon a pike. He laughs as another large bird crap lands on an old dried up patch upon the malformed skull, giving him a chuckle.

 

He thinks back to one of the times when the Snow Elves and Dwarves went on a raid to the Orcish dust bowl, and crushed them swiftly before the day was half done. He remembers the cowardly orcs crawling desperately into a hole atop the small stone spire, then throwing stones behind them to try and seal the way shut. He remembers the horrid stench of fresh orc piss and **** that the cowards released in the tight, winding tunnel in fear as he and a few others charged in, slaughtering the terrified orcs. He remembers then dragging the half dead rex out of that disgusting hole, and putting him up on his knees. He remembers the Rex kneeling on the sand, his rags soaked and smeared from him soiling himself, and then Aelthir raising his sword into the afternoon sunlight. The light shone hot and reflected off his blade, until it cleaved down into the rough skin of the Rex's neck. His ugly face falling swiftly to the sand below, his dirty blood spouting from his neck and dripping from Aelthir's blade.

 

Sylen then remembers picking up the head of the Rex, and booting it high into the air. He and the others watched it smack down on a large stone making a loud cracking sound as it did. He then strolled over to the head, grabbed it by filty hair, and tossed it into an old bag. He later mounted the head on a pike, and let it slowly rot in the lower temperature air of the Princedom where the local birds found it to be a good toilet.

 

"I suppose I'll have to replace it with a fresh one soon. It's becoming hard to distinguish who it was with all the bird **** coating it." He says with a laugh as he sets up some more pikes near it for any new heads.

[HeroOfDuLoc 1935]

Fizldank giggles to himself, tossing the the heads of Glumpuz and Kahn into the ocean.

((btw friend I stole those heads from the keep like three or two hours ago.

Edited October 15, 2015 by Fizldank

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

The cracked skull of the Rex sits on a pike in the Princedom, dried decaying pieces of flesh still clinging to the malformed bone. Over the past few months, Sylen had looked every day he walked past at the Rex's head sitting upon a pike. He laughs as another large bird crap lands on an old dried up patch upon the malformed skull, giving him a chuckle.

 

He thinks back to one of the times when the Snow Elves and Dwarves went on a raid to the Orcish dust bowl, and crushed them swiftly before the day was half done. He remembers the cowardly orcs crawling desperately into a hole atop the small stone spire, then throwing stones behind them to try and seal the way shut. He remembers the horrid stench of fresh orc piss and **** that the cowards released in the tight, winding tunnel in fear as he and a few others charged in, slaughtering the terrified orcs. He remembers then dragging the half dead rex out of that disgusting hole, and putting him up on his knees. He remembers the Rex kneeling on the sand, his rags soaked and smeared from him soiling himself, and then Aelthir raising his sword into the afternoon sunlight. The light shone hot and reflected off his blade, until it cleaved down into the rough skin of the Rex's neck. His ugly face falling swiftly to the sand below, his dirty blood spouting from his neck and dripping from Aelthir's blade.

 

Sylen then remembers picking up the head of the Rex, and booting it high into the air. He and the others watched it smack down on a large stone making a loud cracking sound as it did. He then strolled over to the head, grabbed it by filty hair, and tossed it into an old bag. He later mounted the head on a pike, and let it slowly rot in the lower temperature air of the Princedom where the local birds found it to be a good toilet.

 

"I suppose I'll have to replace it with a fresh one soon. It's becoming hard to distinguish who it was with all the bird **** coating it." He says with a laugh as he sets up some more pikes near it for any new heads.

((I'd be better if youdon't make a lengthy post describing the death of a character if said character isn't PKing. especially if it was a PVP death. Kind of a **** move that ruins general immersion and the integrity of RP

Just some friendly advice.))

Artimec did not relish the idea of fighting alongside uruks, but the temptation to embed more arrows into fenn throats was too great. He let his mind slip away from thoughts of death, enjoying the feel of sun on his back as he watched the Laurelin sunrise.

"Such is life. Everything has a price."

Edited October 15, 2015 by 小叮噹

[AGP 3169]

-snip-

(( Friendly reminder that emoting actions for another player/character is called powergaming. Unless Orcs emoted shitting and pissing themselves, they did not! ))

[Sky 0]

"I recall the Snow Elve's pissing and shitting themselves to come to peace with us."

[1 1393]

A helmeted man mutters out a few words, through an audibly fake voice, "How about the Uruks actually win something by myself. As they have lost every thing that did not have Oren." His tongue snacks to top of his lip, before returning to a messy chamber scrambled with journals about and crafting supplies.

[Jonificus 2763]

"Wub abowd lat juzd fogg uff, hulmut man" says wun

[1 1393]

Mr helmet man would be in the Dunmais keep.

[Skippy 2466]

"Wub abowd lat juzd fogg uff, hulmut man" says wun

"Nub ztrain latzelf, Wun" Kilug'Lur says

[Smaw 2376]

Kharak'Raguk sat upon the icy mountainside that overlooked the Snow Elven fort, taking in the salty sea air as he sat in mild contemplation. He peered down at the houses, struggling to distinguish between the falling special snowflakes and the sparse Elves walking around. Those that could be seen would be destroying their culture in place of Oren's. This sight amused Kharak. It was a display of utter defeat and demoralisation.

''If unleh dey wud zurrenderh an flat wid honur." He remarked.

[Elad™ 560]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.