Norgeth

Myrkazdin of Clan Bokkazarak, Pious Khazad Miner & Adherent to Grimdugan paused for a moment after reading the two missives, one released by Alaric, and now this released by Narvi - The dwarf slowly formulated his thoughts “Oi support King Ulfar - Heh ‘as shown ‘imself ah wortheh leadah” he said then with a nod, having chosen his position firmly.

ᚽᛆᛁᛚ ᛁᚿᚿᚭᚢᛆᛐᛁᚭᚿ - ᛚᚭᚱᛐ ᛆᚴᛚᛆᛌᛁᚴ ᚭᚿ ᚽᛁᚴᚽ TO SEEK INNOVATION ᚽᛆᛁᛚ ᛁᚿᚿᚭᚢᛆᛐᛁᚭᚿ - ᛚᚭᚱᛐ ᛆᚴᛚᛆᛌᛁᚴ ᚭᚿ ᚽᛁᚴᚽ [!] Only citizens of Reinmar or Urguan will have knowledge of this post unless told IRP [!] Automaton couriers enter the walls of both Kretzen and Kal'Kladian, bounding upon mechanical legs as a loud blaring voice of clockwork sounded out for all listening Reinmaren and Khazadmar to hear, their metallic and robotic words echoing throughout cavern and castle alike. . . “Loading Statement - Attention, Attention - It is the will of - Inserting Data File: [Xob Wobson] that your state has been chosen to foresee advancement. Citizens seeking to learn of the alchemical arts of potioncraft, enginesmithing, and clocklife are encouraged to seek out [Xob Wobson] through letter or otherwise in order to arrange a meeting and interview. . . Statement Ended.” The mechanical mailmen continued to stride about those cities, nailing small machine written letters containing similar words to tavern notice boards and guild meeting areas, all while repeating the same looped message. Eventually, with time, the clockwork creations left, returning to whatever distant base of operations they came from to begin with. It seems that a certain whimsical gnome sought to spread his knowledge to those he deemed worthy. . . Will you be? @Papa Rock@Gandhi@BuilderBagel

ᚪᚾᚳᛖᛋᛏᚩᚱᛋ ᛒᛖ ᚳᛁᚾᛞ ᚪᚾᚳᛖᛋᛏᚩᚱᛋ ᛒᛖ ᚳᛁᚾᛞ [!] The man known to many as Mogurix had been scarcely seen since his induction into the Reinmaren Tribes, locked away inside his small barrack with little but his thoughts to keep him company. He thought to himself deeply for several days, perhaps weeks, attempting to rationalize this fate that now befell him and his family. . . “What would the ancestors think?” he asked himself, coming to no accepted answer. “Why does this fate befall me?” he asked toward the wall, receiving no reply. “Who am I?” he finally asked the heavens, offering a prayer to the almighty, silence ensuing. The warrior, having been given no answer, fell to his bunk, going to sleep after what seemed like days of fruitless contemplation. He rolled and stirred in his rest, given pause by alchemical visions and tales - yet amongst these material convictions was a brief and sober dream, a dream that gave him what he sought. A short letter was penned and posted in the morning, the man being seen first in many days. . . To all of Franktir - A choice Franks are a strong people, a hardy set of tribes hellbent on survival in a time of endless hardship - yet these efforts are in effective vain, as spoke the ancestors. I have received a message, a vision of Dagodurnos himself, he spoke of my troubles, our troubles, and then came to a conclusion, giving me the answer I sought, that we all seek. Devastated by war and occupation, we are but a fragment of ourselves, unlikely to survive the next few decades as our people wither with each winter, with each year. The elder ancestor gave me a choice, a choice that reflects upon us all, die and be forgotten, runestones toppled and history lost, or embrace courage, the courage to accept change. I have chosen to accept courage and change, we will not be a mere museum exhibit, we will live on in our children, and our children’s children. It is an ironic twist, for our former enemy to be our earthly salvation. The Reinmaren were the first to drive us out of our homes, but also the first to give us one - Just as we served them, we shall become them. Our traditions shall not die, but rather change and adapt, we will become what many of us scorn, but in doing so we will become greater than we have ever been. Our chance to achieve victory is at hand, and it is not by sword or axe, but rather the acceptance of former loss and the integration into a greater tribe, a more powerful host. I ask you, those of the Franktir, to undergo the trials to become Reinmaren, not because they are crushing our spirit and killing our tribes, but rather because they will uplift us, allow us to remain strong and without fear, allow us to control our own fate. Just as Dagodurnos asked me. . . Will you live, or will you die? It is your choice, but only one gives fate to your own hand. I beg this of you, I show humility. - Theurik Stroheim ad Uxelos - A mere son of a humble fletcher

STEPPE PYGMY MAMMOTHS [!] A depiction of a Steppe Pygmy Mammoth OVERVIEW Though native and known to many continents and isles including Aevos, Pygmy Mammoths typically reside upon smaller and less populated islands, focused in colder biomes that possess vast flat areas such as steppes or pararies, their herds being most common in locals with a lack of natural predators. Standing at around 6-7 feet tall at maximum, measured from the top of their head to ground level, Pygmy Steppe Mammoths are a diminutive version of their greater, more typical variant, but despite their small size when compared to larger relatives, the normal, well fed Steppe Pygmy Mammoth possess sturdy shoulders and frames, able to act as a pack animal akin to a mule or donkey if required. Aswell, many people who have encountered these small elephant-like creatures are quick to discover the fact that they are rideable in a similar vein to a horse. The Pygmy Steppe Mammoth typically lives for a considerable lifespan, around 50-60 years less injured or rendered ill, akin to a normal, less fuzzy elephant, while their diet is one of vegetation and occasional fruit or vegetable, with the typical and natural diet of a Pygmy Mammoth being that of grass, hay, tree-leaves, and even roots and tubers found within the ground. Overall rather docile, the average Pygmy Mammoth is a calm and kind creature, though they can and will attempt to defend themselves if attacked or their calves are threatened, be it by predator or descendant hunter. Pygmy Mammoth’s may be sheared for their thick and warm coat, able to be spun into wool and made into clothing with similar, if not identical properties to a sheeps. The average Pygmy Mammoth is around the strength of a well trained and healthy draft horse, able to pull and carry a substantial amount of weight, though obviously nothing beyond that of their equine equivalent. Steppe Pygmy Mammoth tusks are no stronger than regular ivory, and their relatively small size disables them from being effective at goring those who threaten them, this being a primary reason for the Pygmy Mammoth being somewhat rare outside of isolated islands with little major predators or descendant hunters, with many a herd having been hunted to disappearance due to a greedy tribe or group of people. TAMING The training process to effectively tame a Steppe Pygmy Mammoth is a rather easy one, with them already being social creatures - First one must offer food to the herd that one wishes to ‘domesticate’, with the mammoths being drawn in by such, though it is important to note that loud noises and disturbances can often ruin attempts, the mammoths fleeing away from such. Next one must approach the mammoths to show that you are not a danger, this taking several weeks or more to allow the mammoths to understand and feel welcome. Finally, it is imperative to keep up a positive relation with a Steppe Pygmy Mammoth, especially if one desires to use them as mounts or beasts of burden, often behavioural reinforcement with food being a normally suitable method to ensure them to be happy and allowing of riding equipment. REDLINES - Steppe Pygmy Mammoths are rideable, though act as reskinned horses, following all mount rules and redlines concerning such. - Pygmy Mammoths are unable to gore people during combat, nor are they large enough to simply crush people under their feet, once more, Steppe Pygmy Mammoths act as horses when in combat. - Wild Steppe Pygmy Mammoths are relatively docile creatures, only attacking someone if they or their calves are attacked, however their size reduces their threat-level drastically when compared to a more typical greater mammoth or elephant. - Pygmy Mammoth wool is no warmer or better in any way to normal sheeps wool, however it does smell slightly, such a stink hard to remove from the fibers, thankfully such is quite harmless, and can easily be ignored if desired - Steppe Pygmy Mammoths must be fed a diet of flora, typically grass, leaves, fruit, and vegetables, and while grain is okay as a snack, too much will lead to bloating and discomfort on the mammoth’s side. Pygmy mammoths are herbivores and will not eat meat in any way. [NO MAN EATING MAMMOTHS]

᚛ᚂᚒᚚᚋᚒᚌᚋᚐᚏ ᚂᚒᚚᚆᚐᚎᚒᚋ᚜ ᚛ᚂᚒᚚᚋᚒᚌᚋᚐᚏ ᚂᚒᚚᚆᚐᚎᚒᚋ᚜ ==[𝄞]== "HAZUK! MUGMAR WILLS IT!” - Bor of Hazum Overview & Origin The Men of Hazum are a barbaric and brutalistic Orcish people hailing from the now sunken Isle of Hazum, a distant land of mysterious fog, rolling hills and vast Highlands. Tall and mighty, those of Hazuk’s Tribe are known to be greatly fond of food, often hosting great feasts to appease their great bellies and discuss important matters amongst their people. Lead by an often tyrannical Chieftain anointed and given power due to their pacted connection to Mugmar, Chief Spirit and Overdiety of the Hazumic Pantheon, thought to be the personification of their lost homeland itself. . . Originating as a small to medium warband under the command of Hazuk, a minor chieftain and warlord under the rule of Clan Rax in those elder days of yore, during the 1st Clan Wars. Hazuk was exceedingly tall, even for a Uruk of that bygone age of towering brutes, he and his tribe were said to be formidable foot-troops before a fateful battle, where-in they were banished to “The Farthest Point” by the Dark Spellcraft and Corrupted Shamanism of a hateful witchdoctor of Clan Dom. This “Farthest Point” was later to be called Hazum, named after their progenitor and former leader, posthumously named the first Chieftain by the now culturally distant tribe of Hazum, having been guided and culturally warped by Mugmar, a shamamic spirit who had incredible presence and power upon that forlorn island. [!] A depiction of the rolling hills of now sunken Hazum. Culture & Traits The Men of Hazum, often called “Hill Giants” by those who know them, are a tribalistic culture of traditionally pastoral nomads, farming and herding groups of imposing woolly mammoths around wherever they may dwell, even when settled. Orcish in nature, those of Hazuk’s Tribe are formidable warriors, often welding great war clubs and hammers of incredible size and weight while lumbering into battle, brutally crushing and eliminating their foes without mercy. PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS Blood of Giants: Those of Hazum are exceedingly tall and strong, often and easily reaching the maximum of their respective Orcish Subraces, with Goblin-Kind being notably missing the from the Tribe of Hazuk, an abnormal amount of Ologs filling the ranks of Hazumite warbands and encampments. Men of Hazum have a habit growing out long and bushy beards, these starting out a dull black before somewhat quickly turning a greyish white, with elder Hill Giants often having facial hair that trails behind them, getting tangled and filled with small bits of food often. . . Honour of Hazuk: The Tribe of Hazuk, like all Orcs ought to be, are innately honourable, possessing strong moral compasses and cultural beliefs. A Man of Hazum would, for example, never harm a child or unarmed individual unless they are proven to be corrupted or directly hostile to the clan. Hill Giants are also known to be very loyal, when an oath is signed or a treaty brokered, it is expected to be upheld at all costs, even if such would harm the tribe as a whole, such oaths typically only forgotten if officially dissolved or considered null by both parties. Gullets of Iron: Men of Hazum possess famously strong appetites, able to eat and drink large amounts of food as well as beverages of all kinds, having impressive alcohol tolerances, even high for other Kin of Krug. The quality of what is consumed is often, sub-par or worse, being made of half-rotten scraps and bits of previously cooked meals - a prime of example of such being the infamous dish known as “Baggis”, a horrible amalgam of meat, vegetables, grain, and even fruit if available, these ingredients mushed up and mixed with coarse ground flour before being stuffed into a bag, either made of linen, wool, or even reeds and boiled till solidified and vaguely cooked, other examples of Hazumite dishes include “Everything Soup” and “Bone Marrow Ale”. . . Rage of the Betrayer: All of Orcish kind, despite the blessing of honour are always cursed with insatiable bloodlust and rage, such being exasperated by battle and the gaining of physical wounds, only to be calmed through the brutal and uncaring slaughter of living creatures, often fellow descendants if unlucky. This feeling of rage and hate burns within the hearts of the Men of Hazum likewise, growing in mental presence till eventually overpowering their minds, taking over less sated by killing and bloodshed. . . In this state, Men of Hazum lose their sense of strategy and comradery, fighting those who harmed them last, or if unlucky, the closest ally could even be attacked in barbaric rage. Only once battle had finished, lifeless bodies littering the floor, would they regain their normally honourable and often kind demeanour. CULTURAL CHARACTERISTICS Soul of the Hills: After Hazuk and his tribe were banished to Hazum, they quickly settled upon the vast Highlands that sprawled across that lost isle, there they learned the ways of the land, adapting and eventually becoming rather distinct to their mainland Orcish brethren. Those of Hazum are typically very intune with their surroundings, being aware of slight changes that most would not notice, this is not to say all Men of Hazum possess supernatural senses regarding the land, but rather that they pay close attention to things such as the seasons, crop growth, and the migration of animals. Hill Giants are typically very fond of their pet Mammoths, often considering them holy or blessed, only when a Mammoth is very ill or extremely elderly will they be butchered for food, with all known methods being used to help avoid such a sad happening. Zealous Warlords: Those of Hazuk’s Tribe are skilled in what weaponry they are traditionally used to, being suited to and very dangerous in combat when wielding heavy bludgeoning weapons such as clubs, hammers, and maces, and while they may be more average when using bladed or piercing weapons, their sheer strength is normally able to help greatly in such a disadvantage. Men of Hazum are almost always extremely pious to their spiritual gods, worshipping them with great zeal, while when in direct contact with them or their chosen shamanic “voices”, they would listen intently, following their orders to an impressive degree, often even willing to throw away their lives if asked to fight a unbeatable enemy for example. Prideful Savages: Men of Hazum are a primitive people, often wielding armour and weapons of bronze, crude iron, and kingstone rather than those of refined steel. Traditionally nomadic pastoralists, Hazumite farming activities are often small and short-term, with more effort being put into livestock and raiding for supplies if near a hostile populated area. Hill Giants, often prideful and stubborn in nature, are slow to change in opinion or belief, being set in their ways and the ways of their ancestors, gods, and living elders, this sense of pride can at times, lead to disagreements with those other peoples they interact with, the Men of Hazum being unwilling to compromise on much, if anything when discussing treaties, pacts, or agreements. Brutal Theocrats: Hill Giants are very, very pious in their beliefs and worship of their Pantheon, these actions of praise often leading to extremism and ritual sacrifices, with such usually being animal in nature, though enemy descendants are not uncommon to be slain upon the altar in the name of the gods as well. . . if a Man of Hazum’s faith is challenged or insulted, it is to be expected that they will react angrily at best, or very, very violently at worst, many a foolish traveller having their heads bashed from their body for the unknowing insult of Mugmar and his divine children. Important Deities & Figures MUGMAR: THE TITAN OF HAZUM ‘ The central deity of The Hazumic Pantheon, Mugmar is thought of as the living personification of Hazum itself, and though going silent after the sinking of Hazum beneath the waves, the Spirit of Rolling Hills & Towering Stone has since reawakened during the rule of Bor of Hazum, Chieftain & Warlord of the tribe of Hazuk, once more praised alongside his children. HAZUK: THE FIRST VOICE Once a great Warrior and warlord under the leadership of the venerable Orcish Clan of Rax, Hazuk and his small splinter clan were formidable combatants during the 1st Clan Wars between Rax, Dom, and Gorkil before being banished to what would later be called Hazum by dark sorcery and corrupted shamanism, their name gone from mainstream Orcish history or culture, erased. Hazuk’s name, though remembered as an individual by those of Hazum, has also become something of an odd warcry, something to add to a sentence in zeal and fury. How to Join If you are interested in joining or making a Man of Hazum character or perhaps have questions about the culture, please send a message to norgeth_ on discord, I would be happy to help. Credits Norgeth_ - Primary Writer Titanium430 - Primary Review

THE CIRCLE OF WAR As the Titan spoke in 180 SA. @Islamadon@femurlord [!] Several Men of Hazum, led by Bor’Ak Khan and his right-hand man, Dur’gis @Titanium430 could be seen herding a large caravan of mammoths away from the relatively safe Hazum Encampment, carrying supplies, food and other important resources as well as weapons of war, both handheld, and those of siege, crude cannons carved of logs and several sets of mighty ballista, All moved by the elephantine beasts of burden into the Nichi-Jin Temple before being set down, ready for all valiant warriors of “Uncle O”. . . Soon the infernal forces of Gashadokuro would know what war truly was, a circle, and who best to fight in it than those who already dwell in one? A large wooden cannon is wheeled into the forward most border-post, it being stuffed with a oaken capsule filled with scrolls, such being fired into the ruins of the currently occupied Flower Capital for all dark forces within to gaze upon. TO THOSE FOUL INFERNALS SMART ENOUGH TO READ - You know not of strength, you know not of the might of size or the feeling of power, all of your weapons, all of your horrible tools and creatures of war pale in comparison to MUGMAR & HIS SONS, for they tower above the tallest of mountains, able to take the very sun in their hands. I am their Voice, and you will soon know of their words, the Heavenly Court looks down as their chosen Men, those of Hazum do as they bid. If you think you know of savagery and brutality, then I will prove you wrong, I can be far more brutal, far more savage than you! HAZUK! MUGMAR WILLS IT! YOU WILL SOON KNOW WHY YOU SHOULD FEAR THE TALL - BOR’AK KHAN VOICE OF MUGMAR, CHIEFTAIN OF HAZUM, MIGHTY KHAN OF THE EASTERN MARCHES

Bor of Hazum began to fortify Mugmar's Circle against the infernal invaders as the Hill Giant Spiritual Leader worked to calm and keep his herd of absolutely horrified mammoths in check, less they run rampant in the forests and escape elsewhere. . . "Bor realleh wish Buddeh Dur wahs nae away roight now!" he said with a grumble, offering many prayers to MUGMAR: THE TITAN OF HAZUM as his chosen Voice lumbered about busy.

Bor of Hazum, Voice of Mugmar read over the missive, raising a brow as a metallic jaw clanged open "Bor thunk taht tis Goat ahm exactleh waht eht sounds loike - Loivestock readeh fer teh Baggis ohr Stew, HO-HAR-HO!" chuckled the Hill Giant Warlord and Spiritual Leader from within the Hazum Encampment, the lumbering fellow going to tend to his mammoth herd soon after, offering one of them a small loaf of Goat-Baggis, and strangely, the elephantine beast consumed it with great joy, an omen of victory perhaps, thought Bor. . .

IGN: Tharmekhul DISCORD: norgeth_ CATEGORY: Figura NAME OF PIECE: Frankish Chieftain - A Community Leader [This Piece has a good few emotes that would be good to share, so I’ll put a zip of the figura in this submission, hold an item renamed to "Cʜᴏꜱᴇɴꜱ' Gʀᴇᴀᴛꜱᴡᴏʀᴅ" to view the sword] - LINK

IGN: Tharmekhul DISCORD: norgeth_ CATEGORY: Visual Art NAME OF PIECE: FIGHT FOR REINMAR! - A Propaganda Image

᚛ᚐᚄᚈᚓᚏᚔᚕ ᚐᚅᚇ ᚑᚁᚓᚂᚔᚕ ᚈᚔᚋᚓ᚜ ═════════════════════════════════ FRANKS Forlorn Tribes of the Franklands ═════════════════════════════════ ᚛ᚐᚄᚈᚓᚏᚔᚕ ᚐᚅᚇ ᚑᚁᚓᚂᚔᚕ ᚈᚔᚋᚓ᚜ OVERVIEW The Franks, once a mighty people whose territory and influence stretched from the furthest midlands to the idyllic and fertile lowlands of Aevos, are now but a mere afterthought in the grand scheme of the Descendent world. Devastated by wars with foreign men and races from across the sea, the people of the old Franklands now seek a new life amidst this uncaring age of chaos and loss. . . The Franks are a barbaric tribe, one of woad paint and embattled bronze, whose chieftains’ names once brought children and grown men alike to frightful tears. They are a strong people, born of ancient yet humble Jorenic blood sprinkled with the faint and forgotten ancestry of higher men. In this age of sea-peoples, in this age of loss and cultural instability, the Franks rightfully cling to what is theirs and will not so easily succumb to the cruel machinations of ruin itself. BRIEF HISTORY The exact origins of Frankish tribes are one of intense debate amongst academic circles, yet the commonly accepted theorem among both Frankish sages and those scholars of the sea-peoples is that the Franks are primarily of Highlandic origins, with their language and customs befitting a lost tribe of Jorenites, though it can, and should be said that the Franks occasionally possess heightened lifespans akin to those of Harrenite or Adunian blood, an odd and mysterious fact that indicates that a very small percentage of the Frankish forebears, were in fact, mixblood lords of Alduun. It is said in the Franks' own legends that the Frankish people were born out of the conflict between two brothers. Modern scholars and wisemen point to the near mythic tale of war between the Harrenite and Jorenite kingdoms, as well as the high frequency of Old Alduun to host Highlandic slaves or impoverished freemen. These scholars believe that the ancestors of the Franks were likely majority Jorenic in origin, with a small ruling caste of brutal yet wise overlords who had fled the Holiest City during Exalted Owyn’s fiery crusade and that over centuries and many generations, their traits bled into those of their serfs, becoming one people in custom and in being. Franks had lived on Aevos for generations before the arrival of the main descendant host of Aegis. They knew the land and it knew them, with the Frankish culture being built up in that hostile and deadly continent over countless years. It was their land, and it was they who carved the elder monuments upon the mountains and erected the great standing stones once prevalent in the Franklands of yore. Since the abandonment of Aevos, the Frankish population was forced to flee their ancient homeland once and for all, leaving only a glimmer of hope, a hope for a new home, a new Frankland. PHYSICAL TRAITS Franks are a strong people, muscular and fair of skin, hair, and eyes; they tower over most other men, standing often in the periphery of human potential. It is known that the Frankish tribes are able to grow thick and mighty facial hair, rivalling even the dwarves in its fullness and depth. Most Franks have blond or brown hair, with blue and greenish eyes being common and steely silver being a rare sign of the ancient and dilute blood of higher men. It can be said, however, that all these traits are somewhat mutable, especially amongst Frankish populations who have intermixed and married with those of the Horenic sea-peoples. Strong amidst adversity: Resilient and mighty in both body and mind, Franks are typically quite tall, never standing below 5’10” and often well above such in nearly any situation, unless the tribesman in question has a history of malnourishment or poison-sickness. Well known to drink and drink a lot, Franks have a strong and sturdy immune system and often a high tolerance to alcohol and/or pain. The Franks are quick learners, and while stubborn, are capable of adapting new ideas, technologies, and tactics rather quickly, as shown clearly in recent decades. Gifts of the Elder Sages: Most Franks live to a maximum of around one hundred and fifty years, typical of highlanders and humans as a whole. However, some Franks, deemed to be blessed or chosen by the ancestors, have exhibited lifespans nearing that of two hundred years. This seemingly random increase in lifespan is apparently not bound by bloodline, with many of these gifted Franks long outliving even their own children and perhaps even grandchildren, with their bodies never growing frail till the most penultimate of years. Devastated Population: The Frankish population has been devastated and drastically reduced since the primary descendant host's arrival, with this loss mainly focused during the first and second Frankish Conquests of once Aaun. Some Franks have resorted to partially adopting the lifestyle of the sea-peoples, entering marriages with them and entertaining city life; however, a majority cling to the old ways, bitterly striving to remain as the ancestors did in elder days. The population of the Franks has remained as a stable yet small number with the exodus from Aevos, leaving a handful in the lands of descendant nations, though most eke out a living as brigands and adventurers, living in the northern woods and the edges of society. CULTURAL TRAITS The Frankish tribes are a barbaric people, and this is how they would like it to stay. They are stubborn and unlikely to accept defeat, less in the most dire of odds, for with the ancestors and mighty hero-gods at their side, the blessings of the divine creator may become manifest upon them, and with these, victory is only a matter of time and persistence. Hero Gods’ Blessings: Courage is not something rare in the Frankish tribes, with many Franks jumping headfirst into situations, even those unknown or dangerous to themselves. This is not to say that all Franks are headstrong and foolish, but that they hold action in high regard and will not tolerate laziness or dilly-dallying. The Franks are a warrior people and are typically trained in the ways of conflict from a young age, regardless of future profession or trade. In this fashion, even the most meek of Franks can be formidable on the battlefield if required by their tribe. The Warrior’s Way: Honour and justice are vital virtues in the Frankish world, sometimes even more so than kindness or compassion at times. Most Franks follow a loose set of self-imposed rules that they call “The Warrior’s Way”. This ethos can and does vary between individuals, sometimes drastically, depending upon social status and a myriad of other factors. An Eye for an Eye: When a Frank is wronged, he and his fellows do not forget. It is an unwise idea to take what is most precious to any given Frank, for they will embrace an undying vendetta till it is either reclaimed or yours is taken in return for what was stolen from them. This vengeful attitude can and has caused issues in the past for the Frankish tribes, but it has also shown clearly to all that they are not to be messed with, and to avoid getting on the bad side of a Frank. Boar’s Stubbornness: Franks are stubborn people, uncaring of what others think of them, and often refuse their assistance, even if given out of genuine concern. The Frankish tribes have been devastated by war and the near-total loss of their civilization, and it is by this devastation that the Franks fuel their anger and mistrust for the ways of outsiders. To a Frank, if it isn't broken, why fix it to begin with? INSPIRATION Their name is a bit of a misnomer; these Franks are mainly based upon the Gaulish/Gallic peoples of modern-day France and Belgium, with other Celtic elements from Brythonic and Insular Celtic tribes being mixed in. If you want a good example of what a Frank truly is, watch this video. It was the original inspiration before any other things were written or thought about. And lest we forget Asterix and Obelix, they are certainly something to keep in mind while playing a Frank CREDITS Norgeth_ - Primary Post Writer Titanium430 - Friendly Advice Madone2k & Miniguy - Original Frankish Event Runners and Creators of the Franks SimplySeo - Trait Formatting Style

Mundoberht of Tuhrosweyk, Primitive Warrior & Zealous Devotee of GOD prepares his spear, sharpening its Kingstone point as he then stood up, raising his weapon high! "DOWN WITH THEM! THEY, LIKE THE SOUTHERN SWAMP-MEN, WILL BE WIPED OUT! FOR DEYWOS, FOR GOD!"

[!] Two missives, written by the same author in side-by-side years, arrive soon after each other, finding their way to their intended reader through courier, mailbox, or otherwise. TO ASK OF RECOMMUNION By Mundoberht of Tuhrosweyk, Messenger of the Owynhar Alliance - 1970 @MadOne A REQUEST OF ENTOMBMENT By Mundoberht of Tuhrosweyk, Messenger of the Owynhar Alliance - 1971 @LithiumSedai

This is pretty cool, I commend the amount of research that was put into this! +1

SELLING SKY-PARCELS ISSUED - YEAR 410, OBLAZEKI AGE OF DIASPORA BY HIGH ELDER, DOCTOR PROFESSOR XOB WOBSON [!] An example of Prime Sky-High Real Estate I, Xob Wobson, Skylord of Airdria and Gnomendil hereby decree that the sale of Sky-Parcels within my ruled territory is officially open, anyone seeking to purchase Sky-High Real Estate should send a message via bird at once, for it is only a matter of time till all available plots are claimed by righteous and knowledgeable investors. The Skies under my control cover the entirety of The Exilic Kingdom of Numendil’s Airspace, including any and all vassals of theirs that lay claim to earthly lands, your plot could be anywhere in this vast airscape of wonders, clouds, and already existing Air-Space Domains. All purchasers are to sign the following contract, with edits and changes being permissible with the permission of myself or my direct appointed representatives. Each 10x10x10 plot of Air-Space will cost a total of 250 Mina in a single payment. [!] Taxes are only to be levelled upon those Airspace Domains that are deemed “Skyclaves”. [!] Taxes or Tithes to Xob Wobson or his representatives will be decided at their own discretion. All who purchase Sky-Parcels must recognize the leadership and rule of Xob Wobson, acknowledging his authority in all matters relating to your sky, for you control it in his grace. [!] Xob Wobson reserves the right to search Air-Space Domains without a permit. [!] Nobody can stop or deny Xob Wobson from enacting his will when within the clouds, for his word is law. Additional clauses and edits to this contract can be and will be levied upon the purchaser if deemed necessary by Xob Wobson or his direct appointed representatives. [!] Xob Wobson is free to revoke Air-Space if he deems your Domain to be a danger to others, or in violation of his law.

Was very fun and enjoyable to write with @Titanium430! I think it's an epic concept overall! +1

"Wow. . . Now this is shameful - Seems like they are really making themselves look like fools" Spoke Egbert Sompe, Proud Denizen of Adria and Happy Employee of Aldersberg as he patted his Loyal Mule, nodding to his steed.

"Dewos Vare-wedn Noibio Caius I" Spoke Mogurix in Frankish after reading the document, nodding "May God guide His Holiness to purge the profane and horrid . . ." said the converted tribal.

Xob Wobson, Elder of the Gnomes and Wisecap of Oblazekos read over the missive from his home afar, placing it down with a nod "Oi nae know whoi people think Oi'm ah faereh. . . Oi'm clearleh just ah man, ah man whose race was given powah boi teh Ancients. . ." said the little fellow. Mogurix vo Uxelosii, Frankish warrior and tribal leader also read over the missive, sighing as he folded it to place away "My tribe did not convert just to have those who claim to be the most virtuous align with and tolerate the profane that mimics and despoils my own people's myths and those of the Elder Sages. I pray to GOD and ask the Ancestors to guide the Men of Harren to see their fault. . ." spoke the Frank.

Law in Mugmar’s Circle As the Titan spoke in 171 SA. Order and law are an important method in the curbing and discovery of wrongdoing and connection to malignant forces. As such, various edicts and commandments have been levied upon us of Hazum, to be interpreted and enforced by all those willing to heed the Titan Mugmar’s demands. I - Respect the hills Do not damage the land without purpose or meaning, if you are to build a building, build it to last and never to fall or crumble. The hills are Mugmar, and Mugmar is the hills, raise mounds and monuments in his name when constructing any building, work around and with what natural hills and inclines dot the landscape of our encampment. Do not allow for intruding cultures or beliefs to take hold in your heart, for the hills show us our path, just as they have for countless ancestors. II - Know your place The Voice speaks for Mugmar, he is your chieftain and spiritual guide, listen to his orders and demands, for such is the will of the Titan just as it is spoken by the Voice. Know that your elders superseded you in wisdom and knowledge, respect their words and heed their warnings, to throw away such is without mind and heart, as their wisdom is what remains of Hazum. III - Act with honour You are of honourable ilk, born of Rug and shown the path of truth by the Titan Mugmar upon Hazum. Act with honour at all times, do not steal from, enslave, or demean others, for such is against the good heart. Do not let rage overcome you, allow not anger to control your actions, instead let honour and wisdom guide you to choices that would please the hills and all below them. Follow your oaths and promises, for your word is what binds contracts and solidifies friendships. Listen to those you pledge fealty to and follow them when it is honourable and just. IV - Revile the dark Those of black heart and spirit are not welcome, for they bring chaos, disorder, and ruin upon our encampment. Thieves & criminals are to be banished from the circle, while those suspected or proven of malignancy and dark sorcery shall be executed or sacrificed to Mugmar if possible. Known users of blacked magic or undeath are to be exterminated on sight, their wretched lives forfeit to Mugmar and those who follow his lead within the Otherworld. VI - Laws of the small Outsiders are to be treated with respect and dignity unless suspected or known of wrongdoing, show them honour and treat them as guests. Do not harm those directly invited via Guestrite less they break such themselves. Mistreatment or insult of Mugmar’s domain is to be considered an act of violence and should be acted to accordingly and justly as dictated by the Voice and his words. - Bor of Hazum Voice of Mugmar & Chieftain of Hazum

A GUIDE TO MUGMAR’S CIRCLE Issued by the Nor’Velyth Travel Agency on 170 SA. [!] Mugmar’s Circle at its founding, Circa 163 SA. BASIC INFORMATION Officially incorporated into the Ashen State with The Treaty of Mugmar's Circle in the year 163 SA. Mugmar’s Circle, known to some as the Hazum Encampment and to others as the O-Ga Camp is a small, isolated grouping of tents, yurts, and standing stones located deep within the enchanted forests of Nor-Velyth, being home to the Men of Hazum, more commonly called “Hill Giants”. Lead and guided by a religious figure known as the Voice of Mugmar, the circle's primary denizens are a semi-pastoral culture of Krug’s kindred, hailing from the now sunken isle of Hazum, them being a tall and stoic people, preferring dreary, rain drenched hills and dense, fog filled forests to the deserts most commonly associated with orcish-kind. Those of Hazum are known for two things, their intense religious zeal in a spiritual figure known to them as Mugmar the Titan, and their eating habits, with their appetites being quite prestigious and expansive, especially when it comes to the regular feasts and moots held by the camp’s citizens. THINGS TO DO AND REMEMBER It is important to remember that while the Men of Hazum are overall friendly and kind to the common visitor, they are still affected by the Orcish curse as given to Krug’s kin by Iblees, this is to simply say, do not intentionally aggravate or upset the citizenry of the circle, them being quick to anger and upset if given valid reason. Overall, it is heavily advised that both the shrines and mammoth herds are left alone unless directly shown to you by a permanent camp-goer. If you're especially lucky, you might be given a gift of mammoth cheese or some other craft made by those of Hazum, treat this as an honour, as much work goes into everything made in the circle’s boundaries. Do not refuse this gift, it is a tradition to give gifts to those liked by the Men of Hazum, refusing would be considered rude and disrespectful to their hard work and hospitality. IMPORTANT FIGURES Bor of Hazum - Voice of Mugmar @Norgeth Dur of Hazum - Official Baggis Taster @Titanium430

1st Edict of the Great Golden Boar Issued the 18th of Malin’s Welcome, in the Year 168 of the Second Age HENCEFORTH it is decreed with royal permission that the Great Golden Boar Hunting Club is the lawful authority and manager of hunting within the Kingswood of Aran-în-Eryn, including trade of any and all resources and game-meats sourced from the royal forest. Trade of game-meat, foraged foods, building resources [barring the act of logging] and the sport of hunting is to be regulated and monitored through the ownership of a license that is to be held at all time during the activities mentioned above, these licenses are to be scribed on a case-by-case basis by Forester Harmund dey Norgent for the price of thirty mina, marked with the name and signature of the party seeking the permission to hunt within the Kingswood. Forgery of these documents will be considered a criminal offence, to be rectified by the fining of one hundred and fifty mina and the removal of the fingers upon the scribe’s dominant hand, that being determined by the official carrying out the legal punishment. It is also of note that the previous laws put in place by the Royal Edict for The Preservation of the Kingswood of Aran-în-Eryn are still in effect, meaning that logging is considered Illegal and punishable as described in that previous edict. Thusly it is heavily advised that all prospective hunters, gatherers, or otherwise seek out Forester Harmund dey Norgent to obtain a legal license, lest they be found guilty of lawbreaking. Signed, Harmund dey Norgent, Forester of the Kingswood of Aran-în-Eryn, Proprietor of the Great Golden Boar HER ROYAL MAJESTY, Tar-Caraneth Aryantë of the House Arthalionath, by the Grace of GOD, Queen of the Númenedain, Princess of Númenost and Minas Amath, Protector of the Adunians, Master of the Sharadûn, Templar of the Archangel Michael, Knight of the Realm

ESTABLISHMENT OF THE HIGH GNOMIC COUNCIL As dictated and designed by Wisecap Xob Wobson of the Incarnate House of Aob Written and published during the four hundred and second year since the Fall of Oblazekos - 166 SA. Long has it been since the fall of Oblazekos, and long has it been since anything resembling a unified Gnomish people graced the realm on which we walk. I, Xob Wobson of The Incarnate House of Aob, declare that such will be rectified, though not conflict and arguments between factions and splintered clans or lineages, but instead through diplomatic moot. Time and time again in my own lifetime have I tried or seen others attempt to establish a home for our collective race, each or mediocre to failing levels of success, this travesty is not due to our inability, but due to the lack of communication between ourselves. Considering such, I hereby announce the establishment of The High Gnomic Council, to be convened when deemed necessary at wherever location is appropriate. Its purpose is to ensure the proper upholding of sacred tradition and the collection of all Gnomish factions currently present on Braevos for the purposes of debate and discussion regarding the future of the Gnomish people and the hopeful unification of our splintered and fractured race. Those with interest in being a councillor are recommended to contact myself or any other member of the council, it is imperative that all Gnomish groups and factions are accounted for, else this mission fails without meaning or purpose. - XOB WOBSON OF THE INCARNATE HOUSE OF AOB Lord, Doctor Professor, Laird, Commander, High Elder, Wisecap, Hypernaut Captain of The 1st Fleet, Patriarch of Aob’s House, Holder of Oblazek’s Cap, Author of the Gnominomicon, Etc. Contact Norgeth_ on Discord for more information or if interested in joining the council.

A COSMIC BUSINESS DEAL [!] Do not metagame this Arcane Displacement Adventure Tirsbeisuchel | The Grand Markets | Trade, The Flow of Goods, & Uncountable Wealth A strange plane of endless markets and bazaars, selling all manner of goods and spices in a seemingly infinite variety. The denizens of this far-flung world were of what seems to be extremely varied origin and ethnicity, them all claiming to have come to the great markets to sell and gain fortunes beyond imagination. Ruled by an eccentric merchant lord whose name is often spoken in reverence throughout the sprawling tents and shops that make up the world of commerce and trade. “That one, that one right there” said the ambitious Raev trader, pointing toward the night skies, toward a singular star gleaming in the darkness. “Aye? Oi’ll goh tahre tis evening” spoke Xob, nodding as he waddled off with a salute, moving back to base, preparing for his trip across unknowable distances and dangers. A countdown began, various sirens and loud alarms being sounded as it slowly counted down to zero. Xob stood within a circle of salt, chanting under his beard as he placed a glass helmet overtop his head, sealing to the rest of his armour with a POP, various mechanical locks and mechanisms keeping it firmly in place as the tiny gnome began to shimmer and sparkle, multicoloured sparks flying around his wavering form as he then seemed to simply vanish in a chaotic burst of energy. . . The Captain flew across the cosmos, seeing all manner of worlds and dimensions pass by in a blink of the eye, some prosperous, some collapsing and dead. The trip of unknowable and truly not for the sane of mind, the little Hypernaut eventually appearing with a small explosion of esoteric energy within a secluded alleyway. Xob looked around, waddled out of the cramped corner to see a bustling marketplace, filled with stalls and shops as far as the eye could see. . . Xob began to explore the mostly peaceful land of trade and commerce, eventually finding a large shop filled with the smell of spices and herbs unknown to descendant-kind, he entered with a jingle of the doorbell, the small explorer nodding toward the merchant who stood at the front counter. “Elloh! Oi’d loike toh buy. . .” Xob pointed toward a collection of tins and spice-jars, the Hypernaut taking out a coin purse filled with what meagre money he brought along. “Ah! Welcome! Welcome!” said the merchant from Hyperspace, appearing mostly akin to a human as he looked toward the jars that Xob pointed out “Four Hundred Units” he said bluntly. Xob shook his head “Oi nae ‘ave taht much, but maybeh yer will beh interested en ah trade?” spoke the gnome, pouring out four mina into his hand, showing them to the merchant with a nod. The Hyperspacial Merchant looked toward the mina in awe “I, I have never seen such a currency!” he exclaimed, giving the chosen spices and products to Xob in exchange for what was surely to be mundane in most mortal minds. Xob left the shop with a smile, harmless yet interesting goods in his backpack as he traveled back to that secluded alleyway. . . He drew forth another salt circle and began his ritual, appearing back in the Hypernaut Base soon afterwards. “Ehehehe! Ah good day fer business!” said the little gnome, smiling as he put away his armour, going back to the streets for another, more material adventure.

[!] Two different shamans scribble down letters, them being sent by automaton courier and small fat pigeon respectively. Name: Bor of Hazum Race: Hill Giant/Man of Hazum Type(s) of Shaman: Animist Teacher(s): Mugmar himself Name: Xob Wobson Race: Oblazeki Gnome Type(s) of Shaman: Witch Doctor Teacher(s): Borok’Akaal