Cheezzy_Garlik

As the sun sets on the city of the Urukim the Wargoth, Grishlûk’Raguk, makes his way back to his secluded hut in the middle of the desert from atop his massive Myrzym. Once he arrives back home, he removes his armor. Revealing his heavily tattooed and scarred body. The scent of cactus green, and the irony haze of blood filled his nostrils as he entered his sleeping chamber. As he lay in his bed, surrounded by his Concubines, he dozed off into sleep. Soon the Raguks’ eyes opened, yet he was not in his bed. He lay there in a pond of blood. He looks around in confusion, The sky a crimson red as he identifies his surroundings. Swimming to the nearby shore to figure out where he was. The scent of death lingered in where he landed on shore. The surrounding land around him bore dozens of towering bone white limbs, with leaves that dripped of blood. A grayish fog hangs around the Raguk’s waist, hiding his lower half. He knew where he was, The realm of Gazigash. However, this place was not familiar to the Witch Doctor. “I did not bring myself here…” he said to himself in a low tone “So who did?” The Raguk questions the emptiness of the forest he strode through. As he made his way to find any familiar features to locate where he was. Though a low song began to play in his ears, he paid it no mind as music isn't a new thing when it comes to the spirit realm, as some lesser spirit was fishing for his attention, however he was adamant to ignore it. He kept moving through the Forest of gore, he grew more sporadic and hasty as he was unable to find any exit, let alone familiar features. Soon the lullaby played in his head again, it grew louder and louder. It gets so loud the witch doctor is forced to his knees, covering his ears he roars in pain. Unable to hear his own roar through the deafening lullaby. His head beats as the lullaby begins darkening his vision “Sleeep…Sleeep!” a voice says to him, though Grishlûk is unable to see who or where its coming from as he begins to lose consciousness. He gives in to the lullaby and falls on his stomach, passing out. An indiscernible amount of time passes as the Raguk slowly regains his consciousness. A bright white light burns his face as his vision returns to him. He hisses as the sky burns his already burnt face. He tries to raise his hand to cover his face but he finds himself bound by black roots. These roots trap him in the ground as deep as his gut. “Gaah! What is this! Who dares trap me, I am Grishlûk’Raguk! Emissary of the Blood Queen, Champion of the Gore Warden!” He roars “I demand you release me from this prison before the wrath of Leyd is unleashed upon you!” Laughing echoes in the forest around him, coming from no specific direction. He looks to see anyone “You….you dare to command me? I should devour you like the pathetic dog you are, yelping for your master as you fight helplessly.” The voice taunts, its voice smooth but wicked, akin to a cobra speaking to its prey. “Who are you! Release me from your grip or I shall burn this forest to the ground!” He roars as the roots and vines trapping him tighten around him, causing him to gasp for air. A heartbeat passes, the Witch Doctor blinks and a flower, the size of an Olog appears on the tree before him, growing off of it like a horrific tumor. It bears petals of bright crimson with speckles of white, giant thorns decorating the tree's trunk, like a misshapen rose. A giant toothy grin covers the inside of the flower. Massive fangs leaking bile and red tinted saliva stare at the Raguk. As Grishlûk looks at the carnivorous plant, a feral, uncontrollable thirst for flesh and blood overcomes him. “Yes….” the flower laughs maniacally “you know who i am Witch Doctor. I am Lûg’Zhotl, The Bleeding Flower, It is my hunger you feel. My hunger for the false worshippers!” The flower spits, bile and gore splattering as it speaks. “I know what you speak…Oh great Bleeding Flower. Why do you curse me with this affliction! Why must I hunger!” Grishlûk groans, his stomach feeling as if he had never eaten once in his entire life. “Because Red Skin, you will be my voice, my fist, my weapon against these false worshippers. You will spill their blood and slake my unending hunger.” one of the vines reaches up from the pit that the Raguk, slowly wrapping itself around the Uruks throat, almost unable to contain its own hunger “How do you wish for me to do that oh great spirit?” Grishlûk coughs out, struggling to breath as the vine tightens around his throat, robbing him of his air. “You are a great smith, Blooded-one. You will know what to do!” The flower spits angrily, growing tired of this conversation with a mere mortal. In the amount of time Grishlûuks racing heart can beat once, he is thrown beneath the pit of roots and vines and darkness consumes his senses once more. [ Lûg’Zhotl “The Bleeding Flower”: Lesser Spirit of Unending carnivorous hunger. Lesser of Gazigash] He awakens in his bed, he shoots up, His many wives awakening and moving back as the Goth throws himself out of his massive bed. He puts on his armor and many belts. He grabs his staff, looking it over for a moment, and then leaving his hut into the rising sun over the vast, barren desert.

This post would have been much more efficient if it was instead telling ST why we should have guns.

"A gathering ub da zhomos, bout noggin tik wiz glitz up off ah razzes agh du sumfing" The Raguk says as he reads the note "Da ilzguls ham nub 'appy abowt da nub'ozh zhomos mukkin abowt, mmmhmm."

A Gristled, old Dwarf reads the declaration of a new Grand King on the wall of a quiet tavern, he wraps a dusty red golem hand around a tankard of ale. As his emerald green eyes read the lines “Anotheh Stahbreaka? Maybeh it’s time ah r’turned ‘ome to see mah kindred”. The Ireheart pays for his beer, and leaves the tavern, wiping the breadcrumbs and dust off of his old worn badger pelt.

“Diz like soopa epik. Wazh dere wallz wiff dere grukkaz. Turn da skiez black wiff fete DOOM!” Said Grishlûk’Raguk. The aging shaman from deep within the bowels of his clan hall, as he worked away on a secret project.

Grishlûk’Raguk dabbed up his new crimson brother. The armor of Leydlûk clamoring against the large uruk as he did.

I would never play a based esotheric redskin-pilled gigachad orc.

Worshipping spirits with extra steps. make more lesser spirits, make an ork while your at it ; )

Grishlûk’Raguk sits on a barstool, next to DA GREAT KAPTIN FISHBREF!!! and reads the whitewash notice alone with him. “Ha, mi grukz sum wytwazhes gunna bi all pissy.”

“Dat point syztem wuz dumma dan a olog wiff uh toomur” Says Grishlûk’Raguk

“Datz ah dum name fur ah Raguk” -Said Grishlûk’Raguk , Son of Nagg, Son of Blood, Chosen of Leydlûk, Wargoth of Clan Raguk

Damn daz Krazy -Grishluk’Raguk

Grishlûk’Raguk Stared down at the missive, chewing on a Thundakrug brownie from his recliner within his house in Haelu’nor. He lifted his reading specs to make sure that his name wasn’t listed, then he folded it up and stuck it in the rest of the missives. The Uruk slowly growing a beer gut. “Eh, dey may stink like zhit, but maybe we don’t turn dere grizh into booz, wen Mi alreddi makin grapez uv Gazigash.”

Mid

I’d like to mention again, that I was rebanned for a month + appeal after an already 1 month ban for saying “I will only log on to spite the server”. The mod admin said it was to keep the server safe from me. I consider that bs. I’d like a change of admin but it won’t happen cus the person who oversees that is…the admins