The Serpent's Rebirth

[DrunkPapaBear 1975]

THE SILVER-MOG ACCORD

 

12th of the The Deep Cold, 147 SA

 

 

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Both parties, The Silver State of Haelun’or and The Warband of Mog agreed to sign this treaty under the following terms:

 

 

 

I. The Silver State of Haelun’or and The Warband of Mog agree to fight as allies against the Cove of Nevaehlen and any potential allies they may bring.

 

 

 

II. The Silver State of Haelun’or agrees to compensate The Warband of Mog a total of three thousand minas upon their successful participation, with a deposit of five hundred minas paid upfront.

 

 

 

III. Should the Warband of Mog’s forces meet or exceed two-thousand in number, the deposit will be considered a bonus to the three thousand payment, in addition to four crates of leather and five crates of Daemonsteel.

 

 

 

IV. The Silver State of Haelun’or will supply the necessary armaments for both parties during the conflict.

 

V. The Accord will last for the duration of the total conflict.

 

 

 

VI. Amendments may be made if agreed by both parties.

 

 

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Kybal’Akaal,

“The Ram”, Azh-ob Zgur’thruk-al, Piz-ob Leyd, Groth-Uruk, zaabr-ob karn rar-ob Urin, A-Horde.

Gormôhk,

Gâmum ûgh Kaal-Gôth, Voice of the Spirits, 

Druglord of the South, Motsham of the Horde

 

Grubnakh the elf

 Targoth,Swampgoth, all around hosh urûkim 

 

Kolvar Uradir

Asulir of Haelun’or, Supreme Commander of The Sillumir

[Asutto 1990]

"That's crazy" says Ashwyn Sythaerin, proud hater of wood elfs.

[SteppeNomad 1552]

"HAIL LADS, HAIL! The blessed Brothers, and the Sacred Cihi have rejoined! May our HORDE strike first, and strike firm!" A beautiful hoplite, a high elf with sculpted form, tanned by the ocean's sun grins a strong toothed smile, placing upon his head, the polished helm of bronze, and grasping in his hand, the Spear of Victory! "Ready your arms, lads! Polish your shields! For glory eternal shall be taken, ONCE more by the tip of a spike! After all! GREAT HAELUN'OR was the first, and the greatest member of the GREAT HORDE!"

 

"HAIL PURITY! HAIL LADY LARIHEI!"

[MailC3p 1159]

A Sythaerin High Elf smiles as he reads the missive, knowing full well that his stockpile of leather is paying for this entire thing. 

[Ewdrawings 455]

A Silveira High Elf smiles as she reads this missive, knowing full well that the Sythaerin's stockpile was going to be paying for this entire thing. 

[Shaman 32]

 "...Wagh..." Zag mumbled as he scanned the missive. It was a concept that had dominated his youth, but with many years now behind him, the Yar has grown hesitant of senseless engagement. The contents of the parchment soon revealed a campaign against an ancient enemy most vile, the Order of Druids. The Yar could recall several dozen Rexdoms that have since risen and fallen with the centuries following the sundering of Atlas, each of them failing to address the druidic threat accordingly.  "Kairn Ithelanen." The Yar said with venom at the end of his tongue, the name lingering in the air as he traversed his thoughts. There were few within the lands of the Iron Horde that could remember, let alone understand its meaning, but it was a name that had stuck with Zag for the last two centuries, seeding the deep resentment that he felt towards druids and wood-elves alike. The Yar recalled in detail the day which the Druid-King of Caras Eldar marched his legions into the capital of The Irone Horde, San'Kala and painted its walls red with orcish blood, casting the children of Krug into a generation of darkness - This was but another grievance rooted in the First Age, but one that Zag felt must be settled before his kin may progress into the new era.  "Tik tuh zettle dah zkore, Tyrant."