Fiimûrz-Glat | [RAGUK TEMPORARY CAMP]

[PraiseTheLord 868]

 

EPIC MUSIC : )

BIRTH OF AN ERA

Fiimûrz-Glat | Spluttertongue

DATE ESTABLISHED: UNKOWN

[CONSTRUCTION | NAVAL ]

They of Ragukian ilk were not numerous, nor were they rich. In the stead of such virtues, stood capability and endurance. Them of Ragukian ilk garnered their numbers at the temple, and at the head stood Klunka, his eyes placid yet at the same time filled with determination.

 

“Alright, boys. It’s time. We are humble in numerical value and strength, we are neither nomadic nor sedentary. We are Raguks,  and we choose to endure. Look above,  the garnered nebulas of the pantheon smile at us now,  now as we make the great traversal. Trasha,  you stand beside me, so do you,  brothers of red ilk.

 

They-” And the machination of Raguk industry pointed his index at the starry night “-have done their job,  and they have forged us a home. Let’s go take it!”

 

So the entourage of brave uruksfolk folded their cowardice and birthed curiosity. Traversing to the cerulean shores of Sutica, and boarding their schooners. The great journey of navality was carried out over many a sunset and many a sunrise. Many a time Klunka would require to soothe his own temper as his compass grew faulty and rusted.

Alas, they pushed through rogue waves and landed themselves on a land far more hellish than of earthly value, yet to the Vanguard the firelands were angelic.

 

Overjoyed, they stumbled upon a camp of Raguk design on the outskirts of the scorched landscape, even though none claimed to be it’s maker, and none claimed to have set foot on the lands before. It was theorized that either the Pantheon, or the missing Targoth Leydluk’Raguk was aiding them.

 

Either way, their ambition was no longer humbled, and the great machine had been reborn.

OOC COORDS:
XYZ: -2644 | 53 | 1437

[Vaasek 224]

Smiling up to the sky, KRUTMOZAK’RAGUK stood, arms sprawled out to his sides, and then the uruk let his arms fall to his side, and his neck to straighten, bright orange eyes staring out at the plains, the pathway to the camp.

 

”Ang Gund Griizh”

 

With that, the uruk started to make his way to the camp, stoicly so, elf-ear necklace on his hand, clasped in between his digits.

[HortonHeardAWho 243]

Zteehl begins his own journey to the burning lands. Him hearing news of the enclave and growing annoyed of human politics of which he’d had to bend around in order to conduct business.