AfroJoeTheOlogBro

"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...

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 ****

"Agh zo, duh Wagh begynz in fewl, agh let duh Buurzhom be banyzheed wherevuh it be fownd" The elder gob nodded alongside his old brother as he scribed his signature upon the text.

(Sent across the realm of Almaris upon the backs of roaming toalaks comes a stream of parchments, bearing a neatly written message, though still written in the message maker’s typical berry mash ink, the words red upon the page….) “It has been some time since I have regarded the world, or even my own kin, for the actions of great world changing have rendered fatigue unto me….but there comes a time where the injustices and disgusting corruption of strange lies and ruinous actions drive even elden bones to motion. To those that recognize my message for what it is, then you know who I am, and what I can do. But to those that do not, heed me well. I am Murdok’Lak, he who slew the aengul traitor of Arcas, he who has borne a thousand wounds and a thousand scars, he who is the Shaman Supreme. I have long since handed down my teachings and lineage to those deserving. Even now, my influence is felt upon the world by the actions of many shamans that have been created from my wisdom, and they go on to make the world better. But. I have returned to my kin, as visions have besieged my mind of horrid comings. In my return, I learn that caution when dealing with the unknown is not heeded, strange ilk claiming to be under the influence of the spirits roam the city of my people, and strange blood shamans have risen, bearing an art they claim to derive from the Spirits. I have even learned that a ritual intended to summon Krug himself managed to only summon up the spirit of a Dark Shaman, and one of the Inferi kind. I have seen many things, and was present when the powers of the Spirits returned to the Children of Krug. I saw no such art, nor no such ilk, and certainly no such foolishness as to see my kin accepting things without question, as if the very idea of vigilance had left them. This will not remain. I write this now to make my intention clear. I will hunt the heart of the evils in this world, starting with my home. With the purifying and renewal of Orcish Honor, we shall sweep through the land and strike out the very heart of horror that brews in the north. I have returned, as I always will, in the time of the world’s need, just as Krug did. If you read this, and know I come for you, you have but one chance to bend the knee to the Spirits and beg forgiveness. Allow yourself to be cleansed. If not, then run. Run far, and pray my spear does not catch your throat." (At the bottom of the missive, in leu of a signature, a stamp of red is placed, displaying the image of a smiling toalak, winking with its tongue sticking out.)

"Mi grukked him well of hiz ztudiez. Al-Uk kontinews tuh mayke mi proud....perhapz it iz tik mi blahz wit mi old brudduh azh more..."

The elder Lak heeded the call as it found him easily, carried aloft by kinsmen that had sought him out in the depths of the jungles. Seeing his particular name upon the summons, he grinned wide, though the excitement he felt for an honorable death was cut by the rampancy of what haunted his mind as of late. The visions, were they to be believed, spelt ruin and doom....but perhaps such fate was yet set in blood and stone...

In far off, winter highlands, the TRUE Clan Father of the Goldhand clan sat in his home, beloved at his side. He hadnt actually seen the declaration of a new Clan Lord, but something in his mechanical heart of golden cogs and diamond twitched. There was a shift in the Goldhand Mina Force.....he could sense the disturbance....but then he simply waved it off with a hum and a nod, offering a quick prayer to Armakak for blessed tidings for any Goldhand shenanigans to come.

"We'll have to renew the old treaties" mused the Lord of all that is Golden amongst his grand home in the deep winter, stirring idly in his chair.

As THE automaton rper of lotc (trademarked and registered) I approve of the majority of this, and shall be schemeing at my poggers mart that ive been brewing on tenfold now as it is more necessary than ever. Cheerio boys, its robot time.

A withered goblin raises his head at the missive that found its way into his hand...could this be the glorious new path that would lead to his honorable death? He was going to find out.

"Finally, another of my kinsmen interested in the stars above...ill have to get in touch." The Golden Lord muttered, heart ticking twice fold with exictement.

"Should the current tavern's state be any display, I think the Iron Baron shall continue to do a splendid job. What a wonderful bout of fun we all had." Rumbled the machine lord, reading over the copy of Urguani documents with a hum

From the rooftop smithy of a grand walking house, an automaton gazes out amongst the stars and snow after having read the declaration. He merely sat, and wondered to himself. There were no coincidences, after all.

"Might have to make a submission myself, just to make sure the biggest statue is of my Father. Goldhands are the best, after all" A machine mused in the depths of his home, receiving the missive from a good friend.

"Such is the way of us, Torsun, my closest ally in these past years of roaming about. No matter what we do, there will always be someone hovering beyond us...it always ends in a death, eventually." Rylanor let out a low mutter as he pondered the thought in his head, having long since heard of the elder's passing. He didnt know how, and could guess why, but he knew it was inevitable, just as he knew it when the trouble began long before...it didnt make it any easier, though.

The towering lord of metal and artifice lets out a hum as he finds the missive hand delivered to him by that dear Davli. "Of course Ill be there, I wouldnt miss your grand feats for all the stars in the sky."

Rylanor Goldhand, the True Lord of All that is Golden, reads over the document from the grave, and lets out a "Huh?"

A Lord anew stepped out from the depths, dust gently falling from his titanic form as both heads gazed upward, eclipsed pits peering at the Sun, as if they could see through it. It held a grand tablet of pure white stone in it's grasp to the light of the fresh Dawn, before roaming out.

The Principal Keyholder of Akueli reads over the copy of the document with an audible, ".....huh?" before folding it neatly into his cloak, and heading out the door of his grand home.