AfroJoeTheOlogBro

A mechanical menace giggles

A big need if we ever want to see spirit wars actually used

"mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm MONEY!"

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm....money......."

Somewhere in the world, a beast of flesh and blood and consciousness, yet no heart, roamed on its eternal hunt, not yet hearing the news of his fallen brother...even when such news came to pass, the beast would find itself unable to shed a tear, yet conflicted with an odd feeling....

I do not approve of the removal of the sex god, COME AND HEAR THE SONG OF SLAANESH!

The Rhun touched machine made note of the date with a humble nod, excited to once more be amongst those of his kind, fellow dwed inspired by the Rhun, by Creation...

"Now, let friendship finally flourish."

The Lord of Avarice let out a thrum from his plates as the news reached him, before returning to his work. Justice would sing in Urguan, should the courts deem justice worthy.

A dastardly hater and art lord supreme plots on how he can ungroovify this potential art extravaganza to further steep the world with his hatred for bards and their frivolous notions on what made art...dastardly indeed...

Somewhere in the world, the mechanical lord lets out a howl of booming laughter the likes of which he hasnt in decades, finding a great deal of humor as he reads the missive...

The master of artifice let out a hum as he read the missive, shaking his head. "Its craftDWEDship, DWED! Going to do all three crafts and win them just to knock some sense into Tuzic. Craftmanship....bah!"

The Lord of Avarice lets out a hum as he looks upon the document, nodding his head. There were more banners to add to this coalition, two in particular he knew would wish to join.

The grand Lord of Greed and Avarice had set his thoughts upon Thalgrim often in the passing days, pondering the events over and over, seeing how they might have panned out differently, and contemplating how what was would settle. Things were in motion now, hopefully for the better.

The Lord of Greed and Avarice reads over the missive of the trial, squinting as he reads it once, twice, thrice....before tossing it and calling out, "Theres no ******* crime listed here? How vague can you be with saying 'due to questions of his faith and adequacy'. If youre going to call someone into question, you should at least state why in the first place....what a sham."

A Self Reflection Upon the True Dwarven Sin [!] One would find this piece of written work placed wherever notices and papers could be found, the philosophical content free for all to view. "It would be foolish of me to claim myself a philosopher, yet not share the thoughts upon which I make philosophy. Typically I teach directly, for mine is a habit of hands on work. But, for this piece of self reflection, I find it best put to the written word, and spread to as many as possible, for I believe I am not the only one to benefit from this. It is within the eve of Belka's season, and the dawn of my soon to be wedding, that I found myself drawn to my fiance's side, berating those closest to him about their inadequacies and failures, and how their ilk had a habit of devouring those brightest amongst them until there was nothing left. Of course, the issues I hold run so much deeper, and at its heart, hold logical fallacies that I recognize and accept as apart of my own bigotry and rage induced thought. Most suffer from this, when it pertains to family, and the long line of failures stems into my family. But, I digress. It was after this heated discussion that we made to leave, only to be confronted by one who so rightly deserved worse than death, and infact had suffered such thus far, yet had not met justice at my hand for the personal slights he had levied against me and my fiance. Those present encouraged me to not simply act upon my hate, and in a moment of confliction, I aimed the well deserved beating into a near by wall, smashing my hands into metal pulps of leaking fluid. It was in this moment of confliction that I nearly drowned in my hatred, quite literally killing myself with it. I could feel my heart burning, the gears grinding out of tune, damaging, because I was unwilling to let go of the hate. I explain all of this context to come to the point of self reflection. Why was I so unwilling to let go? Why is it that my pride in what I believed was justly owed so overpowering that I was willing to nearly die to see it done? My thought wandered, as I sat to contemplate, mending my hands with the aid of close kin and friend, as to where the pride was truly sourced, for I already knew the source of the hate. Then I realized a fundamental truth. In my dwarven upbringing, I was taught how to be greedy and covetous, how to lord over others with my riches, and be proud of the fact. I realized, I had also learned how to hate, and how to cackle with ravenous glee as I clung to my hate like a precious treasure. We dwarves catalogue our hates in grand books, each clan holding their own hates. It is often encouraged and indeed rewarded to hate, and to hate eternally. I do not want what I describe as hate to be mixed with blood lust. One is expended with the application of aggression, but hate seems to only grow the more one engages it, until it is in so plentiful an amount as to drown in it. A dwarf can be defined on who he hates, why he hates them, and for how long his family has carried this hate from one to another. A perilous heirloom that roots in the soul. Some would posit that the sin of the Dwed is to be cursed with Greed, but in my experience, it is Hate that is far more prevalent. We do not even see as it rots us from within, driving us into early graves and grudge filled wars. It runs us to attack each other just as often as we might an outward foe. By Belka, we are a passionate and hungry people, starving for life, and living it deeply. So to is this trait tied to our hate, for better or worse. I end this bit of scribing with a simple message. That every dwed has a right to voice his opinion is an Urguani boast, but Hate is not an opinion, it is a phobia. It isnt a view point, it is a disease of the heart and soul and mind to make one unwilling to engage in the blessed rotation of the world. To engage in Change. I do not preach that one should be without anger. Anger forms in the face of injustice and beseeches ones morality to see justice done, but Hate taints Justice into Vengeance. Anything very big is very simple. If there is a big hoard of hate there is a big solution to releasing it, and that solution is simple. Let go, or let it ruin you." [!] The text bore no signature, but in the tradition of his people, there was a Touch Mark stamped into the bottom of the work.

"I knew he had passed and yet.....it hangs over me ever more now. The old fucker stole from me, but I think he more than deserved that piece of history for the Guild's collection....Ogradhad better bid well for him." The mechanical lord mused as he heard the official announcement of the elder Frostbeard's passing. He remembered fighting to help them reclaim Rhewen, and now his mood sobered once more, his thoughts held on his Frosty kin.

A metal lord ponders long upon the missive, memories taken back to his first festival of Belka, where he had met his first love....old memories indeed.

The machine lord looks at the other two signatures with a sigh, noting the lack of gravitas and dramatics his fellow lords held. But, they were still worth their ink in gold.....

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...