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Cruel Bronze: To Take Targoth


SteppeNomad
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-Helm of some snow elf prince, a decent prize

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The roaring fire fills the night sky. Together, those broddahs gather, on the shores of a windy river. Though they were Men, and Mali, and Urukhiim, none the less, they were Broddahs. All sons of Enrohk, on this, a day of battle. "Many times, have we strode forth, heavy greaves trod what is before us underfoot." All resounded in acknowledgement. He goes forth, a Mali, ti, though through endless victory had he taken those privileges of Honorary by the tip of his spear. Pouring a libation of wine and oil to the flames and the beast before it is slaughtered, that elf, who wore upon him, that full Panoply of blessed metal, and the striking mask of a terrifying elven ancestor. He held his spear aloft, still worn from the great battle shared.

 

"Know, my brodduhs! Our greatness. Our fine victories and GLORIOUS battles! That these are just the start! For GREATNESS comes, my brothers, and we, great HEROS rise to take it! I, Zozhk'Mau, Son of Kezt, son of Anaxagoras, son of Krug, lay my spear sharpened to take the title of Targoth. Undefeated, are we, those bands who fight besides me. Never have we failed, and every victory, one taken greater! EACH ONE OF US, MAN, MER. We are all champions of our own bloodlines! We are all HORDE!"

 

The scene is a heavy one, as brothers sing and enjoy themselves on that day. The loot, pried from the fallen, prizes TAKEN, in the fields of glorious wagh.

 

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-May those who stand before us all bend at the knee and submit, and call us masters and Great Kings

-Anaxagoras, Hero-King. Founder of many citystates

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A tru honorary that peepz worthy. Mi axez wil clazh againzt latz zpeer zozhk’mau. For diz iz da wae.” Lok’Gul would grunt with a proud grin, seeing many strong warriors of the horde stepping up to take the title. “Manie kum agh manie zhall fall. Buhd tu tayk dee title is azh ting. Keeping it, iz anodah.”

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