Chrisoulis777

Woowww wooowww wooww, i placee litteraly one block on the builds where is my mention

Order has been restored!

IGN: chrouslis777 Persona: Rebel 24462

The Return Of The Chef - Grub Core Episode III Ikor “The Butcher” made his usual rabbit stew in his tent before calling for his brothers to come feast “Grub iz ready” he called out while gazing outside of his tent only to see two of his brothers coming, a sigh escaped the maw of the uruk as he knew staying in this tribe Ikor would never achieve his dream of being the best chef in the realm. The only news his tribe would ever get was of war and about the Grubgoth that owned Grub Core, everyday jealousy filled the young uruk chef, and one day he had enough. Ikor “The Butcher” grabbed his pan and machete and marched towards the capital to face Grubgoth , who claimed to be the best. Upon arriving at the capital he busted through the gates without question and walked towards the tavern only to find it abandoned… The tables split in half, chairs laying flat upon the wooden floor, the anger and jealousy upon the face of Ikor slowly faded while seeing the trashed tavern, and so he advanced even deeper inside, seeing the giant cauldron empty with only a few rotten pieces of food inside clearly not been used in months. But the silence was quickly interrupted as a goblin runned through the streets shouting “THE GRUBGOTH IS DEAD! SLAYED BY ELFS!” upon hearing such Ikor frowned, he was jealous of the uruk but to hear a fellow chef die was something he couldn’t forgive. As he reached the kitchen counter that was filled with cobwebs Ikor quickly brashed them off before slamming his massive hand upon the counter, the wood cracked a little before the sound of books and keys could be heard falling down, Ikor with a swift move grabbed the two books and keys before starting to read them, one had the teachings of the arts of culimancy, and the other the recipe labeled us the ultimate grub readen by Gruul. Ikor’s frown turned into a smile upon finding such secrets and quickly dusted off the kitchen, mopped the floors and fixed the broken chairs and tables. And for the last part he cleaned the sign that was saying GRUB CORE, with a grin he runned outside the tavern and yelled as loudly as he could “IKOR TAKE OVA GRUB CORE! IKOR NEW CHEF! GRUB CORE IZ IKOR’Z” Ikor screamed it with a laugh quickly following shortly behind as this was his chance to achieve his dream.

The Chef Falls Gruul was doing his morning walk around the lands of the Horde of many tribes going around the vassals to cook and sell his delicious meals to the people of the horde, but while crossing the giant bridge he was stopped by his fellow Balian guards, Gruul waved before one saying “WE FOUND HIM” Gruul confused he simply jumped upon one of their horses to ride with them. Gruul having no idea of what was happening he simply started to blah about random stuff “Gruul will invezt in cerulia! Yub yub build a big GRUB CORE” he called out while the guards of Balian and a few of his bruddas carried him towards the gates of Cerulia.. Not knowing he was never gonna exit them. After arriving inside Gruul was quickly surrounded by Balina, Horde, Cerulia and other members of the Four brothers alliance and everyone quickly drawn there weapons arresting him on the spot , before Gusmia came out with a axe saying “Gruul you are sentence to Death for the crimes of cannibalism” The uruk chef confused he quickly started to debate the elf “Thiz nub true, gruul nub know Elf waz from Cerulia, Gruul nub know….” he begged for mercy but none was shown to him, he was forced to his knees by his brother Gutlug and a Balian before Gusmia “Grommash never would allow uruk flat from this… New rex will zave Gruul”. But Gruuls spirit quickly shuddered as Gusmia said “Rex has approved of this… and he was the one that sentence you here” Gruul lost all hope, plead for mercy was the only thing that he could have done as Kha and other citizens around cheered for his death, was this really the good side, or was the empire right, the four brothers alliance being only beast, slaughtering one for a mistake “Pleaze Gruul nub know, Gruul zorry… Gruul waz given elf , Gruul nub know” he begged once more but this was the last words he was gonna say. Gusmia raised his axe and with a quick slice, he chopped the chef's neck clean off his body, with the body of Gruul flopping upon the floor and his head rolling inside a bond that was near, the water quickly turning red. That was the justice given to Gruul, a quick death for a mistake he did trusting that his fellow brothers would save him.

The badawi man made his way out of the throne room, and upon exiting the gates of the empire, he quickly grasped upon the wall to his left side, before a sigh of relief escaped him, as he turned back to gaze upon the palace one last time “maybe my words had a effect on him after all… oh allah guide him back to the right path, for his is just lost…” he simply said before departing at last, going to tell the news to his wife and kids

The Badawi man after securing the safety of his wife and kids , he gave them a small nod before mounting his trusted horse, Khaleed gazed once more upon his family with a smile appearing on the man's face knowing he might not see them again, for he planned not to hide neither run as he knew the oath he gave and the price he must was to pay, and so he rode a journey back to the capital “Allah keep my family safe, for i am to join you soon… and forgive me for i have sinned far too long… welcome me in jannah” he simply said to himself while riding

The Broken Spear The Badawi Knight entered the knight hall without announcement. The weight of his steps measured neither hurried nor hesitant, the sound of his plated boots echoing softly against the wooden floor. The hall stood empty, save for the low crackle of the hearth, its fire casting long shadows across banners and vacant chairs. He grasped a nearby chair and dragged it closer to the fireplace, the legs scraping softly against the wooden floor before he set it in place. Turning it towards the warmth, Khaleed then lowered himself into a seat, the firelight reflecting faintly across his plated armour, etched with the emblem of the Dragon Knights. He began with his gauntlets, loosening the fastenings and setting them aside at the table one after another, with a tired sigh escaping his lips. “Never did I think my dream would come to this,” he simply stated And from there the rest followed at an unhurried pace, plates unbuckled, straps loosened, steel lifted free and placed carefully upon the table at his side. The Dragon Knight cuirass was removed at last. Finally, he drew the cape from his shoulders and folded it with practised precision, resting right next to the armour. After a few moments, Khaleed unsheathed his curved blade, and with care, he placed the blade atop the folded cape, aligning it in the same direction the armour faced. now unarmoured, he gazed upon his damaged and dirty gear with a smile “You served me well… but for too long I have served and betrayed my kin's way,” he stated with a firm tone. Khaleed would then reach into his garments, pull out a letter written in ink, and place it on top of his cuirass. The letter to anyone who chose to pick it up and read it would say; _____________________________________________ “To my brothers in arms, and to the Grand Knight that commanded us, I write this not with haste or with anger. I have worn the armor of this Order with pride, believing it to be a symbol of honor, mercy, and service. And for a time, it was. I was taught that Knight’s strength is not measured by the blood he spills, but by the control he shows when he has the power to do so. That lesson has guided my blade, my voice, and my conduct since the day I first swore my oath. Yet, I can no longer reconcile that oath with the path that the Order now walks. My restraint has given way to wrath, and violence is no longer a last resort but an answer reached too quickly. This is not the Knighthood I pledged myself to, nor one I can serve without betraying my faith. My belief in Iman Rashidum teaches us that honor without mercy is hollow. I cannot allow my oath to be reshaped into something that runs counter to those teachings. Therefore, I must lay down my place within the Order. I depart without defiance or ill will. To those who still uphold our former virtues, you have my respect. To the Grand Knight, I offer my honesty. May the Order one day remember what made it worthy of loyalty. Khaleed The Sunspear.” _____________________________________________ After the letter was left behind Khaleed departed leaving the empty hall behind. And so he mounted his horse beneath the fading light of the day and rode without haste. The weight his horse carried was no longer steel, but resolve. When at last he reached back to the Qalasheen estate, The door to his room had barely opened before small footsteps echoed across the hall. His Daughter Imani ran to him without hesitation. Khaleed quickly dismounted and knelt just in time to catch her as she reached him, lifting her up into his arms as she laughed and clutched at his shoulders. The concerns of the Order, the weight of Oaths laid aside, all fell silent in that moment. Here, there were no banners to uphold, no commands to obey, only a promise far older and far more enduring. As Khaleed lifted his gaze up to see his wife I’tidal standing upon the door with a smile upon her face as she gazed at them. “It is done… I left the Order as i wish for my kid and for the my kids to come to grow up and look up to their father as a honored and kind man… not a monster slaughtering innocents for the sake of ‘justice’ “ Khaleed Stated with a serious tone Before carrying his Daughter inside the house, wondering what would happen next.

Perfection

The badawi warrior could be seen sharpening his shamshir as he sat underneath the tree of his family’s house, gazing upon the farm and preparing himself for the journey for his third task that involved such beast “those beast shall learn not to mess with our family”

FULL NAME: Khaleed Bin Salman Al-Haybah AGE: 33 PRIOR EXPERIENCE: Guard man for the empire SIGNED NAME: METHOD OF CONTACT: (Discord name/Mcname) Chrisoulis777 / disc Chrisoulis777

Khaleed would be doing his usual patrol upon the city of alba, before taking a sit at the bridge edge, taking out a waterskin filled with water before gulping down some of it and leaving it to the side before Zubayr his cousin approched him "Cousin what happen to you?... Beaten up" he called out with a worried expression in his face upon seeing him, and as he started explaining Khaleeds eyes widen "wow... my cousins out here fighting demons and what do i get? guard duty...." he called with a deafeted tone in his voice "well good work cousin" he said before giving himma thumbs-up

Gruul would clap his hands together upon eyeing his new comrades placing the norlanding heretic upon the cross "Yub Yub, Gruul made that crozz, Gruul thought crozz nub be use but gruul now zee that crozz iz uzed" he called out mostly to himself and us everyone was getting ready to depart he called out to them "AHH friendz nub forget to come to Grub Core, there iz deal az well buy one get to buy another one GREAT DEAL YUB YUB" he shouted out to the riders before waving around his machete like a maiden saying goodbye to her husband before war

I do think making the server more friendly and welcoming for people is good, but completely banning people from being rply homophobic is a bit of stretching it, yes we could add a rule like the racism one that if it feels uncomfortable or oocly motivated then actions to take place, but completely banning it is forcing Years of lore completely vanish, cannonism, iman rashidum and many other that had part of such and characters with this view we forcing them to change there lore, change there characters it feels kinda ehh, not saying we should support hating people not at all, we could make it strict like racism like if its outstretched and such… plus it feels abit like a giveaway to ban people really easily if they try to make a small joke or so giving the mods a reason to just vanish them like that or making baiting much more easier to get people out.

Hi Ibraheem, Thank you for your powerful message. You’ve highlighted an important issue with clarity and compassion. Your call to break the stigma, encourage openness, and support one another is deeply appreciated. Let’s keep the conversation going—every voice matters. With respect, chris

Am i your favourite, beware i know where you live

Do we exist to suffer or do we suffer couse we exist?

“Gruul used to be okey with mages, but then they attacked Gruul to take his recipes yub yub that was it, they attacked Gruul now Gruul will support hordespeaker”

The Grubgoth Gruul would roam around the tavern of grub core with his shoulder still fairly wounded by the axe blow sent by Arthur, but that did not put a pause to his thinking or his grub making, wander what dish he can make out of voidal mages

Where is the desert, what is this

Gruul was preparing a new dish but while slicing down some freshly cooked beef he heard the news of his ops demise, the machete on his hand fallen down, before following that motion as well, Gruul fallen to his knees before yellling. "NUUUUUUU..... WHO WILL BE GRUULZ OPZ NOW, WE NEVER HAD GRUB BATTLE" Heartbroken from the death of the rival tavern master chef. "Grub Core will honor lat, az he waz a hozh rivar"

Nawfal would grasp upon the massive before taking a sit upon a cliff in the desert overlooking the land, before taking a read of the massive "Ah, the qalasheen are one step ahead it seems" he paused with a laugh escaping the elderly qali man "i have offered a solution to our far cousins the hyspians, i hope the can see my vision, for a new start for the both... where peace can be brought to the blessed lands of the desert" he called to himself before stabbing his cane upon the sand and with it's help slowly standing up to his feet "may allah grand them the peace the search"

[!] in the heart of Grub Core—a massive, rowdy hall deep within Krugmar. Smoke from roasting meats fills the air, mingling with the scent of ale and sweat. The walls are lined with hanging trophies—helmets, tattered banners, and weapons taken from fallen enemies. The fire pit blazes, casting wild shadows across the room as warriors from the Good Guyz Alliance—Krugmar, Norland, the Church, and their Ferrymen allies—gather in force. At the far end of the hall, Gruul the Chef looms behind a massive wooden kitchen counter, stirring a cauldron so big it looks like it could feed an army. The stew inside bubbles violently, bits of enemy banners and shattered weapons floating in the broth like trophies. Gruul raises a heavy ladle, tapping it against the rim of the pot with a deep, metallic clang. The room falls into silence, all eyes locking onto the orcish chef. "Everyone quite, Gruul the bezt chef in realm haz made zomething for our weak enemyz.... Tonight we don't juzt feazt we celebrate! Tonight we ztand tall while hyzpia... heanze... balian... celianor... will get made into Grub" A roar of approval shakes the hall—Orcs pound their chests, Ferrymen smirk from the shadows, Norlanders slam their axes into the table. The priesthood chants blessings over their weapons, readying them for the war to come. Gruul grins, tusks glinting in the firelight. With a swift motion, he raises a massive hunk of roasted meat and takes a savage bite—symbolizing the fate of their enemies. Gruul slams his fist into the counter—BOOM! The beat drops. [Intro] "Yo, it’z Gruul in the kitchen, fire in the pot, Hyzpia burnin’, they be beggin’ me to ztop. Grub Core feztin’, we zervin’ up the heat, Krugmar, Norland, and the Church run the ztreet!" [Verse 1] "Took one look at Hyzpia, all I zee iz fear, Call the Ferrymen, time to make ‘em dizappear. Haenze talk tough, but they weak in the fight, Celianor runnin’—elvez zcared of the might!" [Chorus] "Grub Core cookin’, we be feztin’ on your town, Hyzpia fallin’, they ain't never comin’ round. Norland ztandin’ while your bannerz hit the ground, Pontiff givin’ blezzinz while your king ain't makin’ zound!" [!] As the first verse was over Without warning, Gruul launches himself off the kitchen counter—his massive frame crashing onto the long war table in the center of the hall. The wood groans under his weight, goblets spill, but no one cares—they’re too busy roaring with battle-hungry excitement. Then Gruul would steal a mug filled with Widowmaker brew from the hand of one of his Uruk brothers before chugging it down. [Verse 2] Balian be cryin’, they ain't fit for the throne, We takin’ your caztlez, you ain't got a home. Celianor beggin’, but them elvez ain't built, Your wallz gettin’ cruzhed, all your citiez gon’ wilt. [Bridge] Hyspia starvin’, no food in the land, Meanwhile, we feastin’—big meat in the pan. Haense lookin’ clueless, don’t know what to do, While Ferrymen pull up, makin’ armies move! [Verse 3] Krugmar strong, got the hordes on the ride, Norland beside us, axes held high. Hyspia broken, all their soldiers just hide, Balian banners, they fallin’ so quick, Celianor dyin’—elves ain't so slick! [Outro] Hyspia starvin’, but my pot stay full, Gruul run the kitchen, now they know who rule. This a war song, not a hymn or a prayer, Next time you step up, better come prepared! [!] As Gruul finished the war song his voice could be heard echoing inside the wall of Grub Core the warriors of—Krugmar orcs, Norland berserkers, Ferrymen mercenaries, and holy knights of the Church—stand in a frenzy, fists in the air, roaring in unison. "WAGHHH! WAGHH! WAGHH! WAGHH!" A grin would appear upon the maw of Gruul as he saw everyone cheering and grubbing inside his tavern before making his way back inside the kitchen. "Zo who turnz iz it now to order?" The uruk chef acted like nothing ever happened or that victory for this allience was the only path the spirits planned for them.