AfroJoeTheOlogBro

Thats the hope

"What in the...."

"To remember the brave fallen, what a commendable thing."

Im so proud of you

Answering the Call With the flurry of activity roused up by shamans and investigations, another missive joins the mess, messily scribed and copied with a crimson paste of berries and blood, pasted on the back of toalaks to spread the word. "Da Motzham agh duh Moot kall on mi tuh bryng ztabiliti tuh dah landz of Krug. Mi haz been privee tuh duh inveztygazionz of duh buurz, agh az azh dat apprewvz of tradizion, mi maykez diz zhort agh zympal. Mi haz nub ambizion tuh be Rex, but if it iz mi duty, it iz mi duty. Mi, Murdok'Lak, komez tuh challenge mi old frend Ar'Borok'Akaal. Let duh Ilzgul dezyde in duh waiz of Honuh Klomp if mi iz truli fit tuh zettle duh throyne of Krug." Stamped where a signature would go is the smiling toalak of old, its tongue sticking out in playful fashion. The symbol of Swampgoth.

The elder swamp goblin donned an old mask, granting him the visage of Laklul, a mask he hadnt worn since he was last called to the line of duty...

"Look old man, if Khazad and Khazadmar is good enough for Norli and Kazrin, its good enough for me."

The Golden Lord ponders for a moment upon the new missive swiftly scribed, taking in its contents entirely. Then, with a musing hum, he simply nods his head. "While debating on ones dwarfhood is a topic sensitive and close to my heart, one thing is certain. Durin was within his rights to be present amongst his forest kin. Even if he were not a forest dwed, khazad is khazad, and never have the Hefrumm folk been barred from matters of state. Why is it then they think it fair to bar one of their own from their matters? Rather peculiar..."

"Mi did nub gruk bout duh zhara Zarah forgoin duh merziez of duh zpiritz....nub'hozh. But, az azh zinkz, anothuh floatz."

The Lord of the Aurokanar scoffed at the news of the summons, shaking his head at Thalgrim. "The nerve of these upjumped forest kin thinking they can boss about. THE Rhun Prophet...itd be funny were it not so pathetic.....oh what the hells, ill laugh anyway." And so the gilded hall of the Goldhand's was filled with booming, raucous laughter of mechanical nature.

Somewhere, in the depths of the north, a machine's ruby eyes cracked under pressure, loosing tears of orange...

A disgruntled lord laments over how hes going to have to show up in person to take his reward and embarrass the bards that had no chance against his masterful poetry

The mechanical lord of the Goldhand Clan ruminates on the ill omens from his old friend, readying shield and sword, potion and poison, preparing to defend the fortress he once helped thrive.......

Yo its ya boy, da aengul slayah, here to yoink these crowns like the grinch on christmas. Bring a ding ding em over, baby!

Thank god and thank ****