DrunkPapaBear

The druglord of the Horde did not like the idea of a bruddah thinking himself to be a lesser being, yet he welcomed the olog's challenge with the tusked smile. "Ilzgûlz! Skaat hôn izûb kranklûk grîzh! Skaat hôn izûb kranklûk-goth!" (Spirits! Come see my brother's blood! Come see my brother's might!)

The envoy of the spirits on this mortal plane quite likes the idea of such bloody games. He hoped the honorables of Norland and Urguan would allow such entertainment to take place before the killings begin.

[!] A missive was sent through Aevos by goblin messagers. To the xannite Florian. We met back in Lurin where you shared you wretched views. There, you hid the curse you carried on your soul. The curse of the Blood follows you, vampyr. Two cactus days will be given to you, to come forth in the honorbound lands of the Horde, to the capital of San'Brìu. Do so and we will cure you. Do so and we will not harm you. When the two days pass, the hunters of Lur will be sent to bring you back. Your limbs will be pulled appart, your eyes removed, forcefed to you. To the other buurz-spawns of this realm. The urûkim offer salvation in removing the curses that plague your soul. If you come willingly, we will show light. Signed Gormôhk Motsham of the Horde, Voice of the Spirits Merchant of the Murkwater Co. Seller of drugs.

The Motsham, Voice of the spirits, coughs out his guzzoline as he looked at the missive. "Beings made by Luara now accepts the void, paladins agh other buurz-lûks on their land?" He gave it another read, just to be sure. "Well whub da zkah."

all the cool magics already require you to chant/speak

A certain drug merchant looked upon the missive and smiled the tusked smile. "Peep bruddah, the new-blood has some klomping in him." He showed the missive to the Rex, soon followed by a fat blunt.

"Odin the honorless, breaker of oaths, finally retire. Maybe Norland will see light once more." A redskin then made his way to the northern kingdom, aiming to speak with the keepers of the Red Faith.

A redskin looked over the missive, soon releasing a grunt of approval from the square of San'Brìu. "Kuvirr, lûb of Ar-Borok has served well. Let us see who may replace her now. Âsh grîsh, âsh Horde."

[!] A missive is spread amongst the spiritualist nations To mine Bruddahs, sistahs and lost spiritualists. With the rish of the Horde, many new-bloods and urûkim souls trapped in lesser bodies are in need of guidance. I, Gormôhk, elder of the Horde, will offer such. With this declaration, I claim the role of Motsham and pledge to this : -To be a guide to the shamans, old and new. -To teach those in needs of knowledge, be they urûkim, ker or of other races. -To unite the spiritualists towards the immortal war to come. If another wishes to challenge mine claim, they may do so at the next moot of shamans in two cactus days. Signed Gormôhk, Elder of the Horde, seller of drugs.

Well written and all, but to me it just looks like Krugamine with extra steps

Gormôhk settled by the firepit of San'Briu, his morning blunt in hand. A tusky smile appeared on his redskin's face, happy to be able to read his favorite newspaper again.

An orkish merchant smiled the tusks smile as the Akaal clan of the Iron Horde managed to get a guild in Celianor. Even if he was confused, he made his way to the west to sell some drugs.

LUR LUR LUR

Can’t wait to say we told you so when ToxicApple gets a tos ban

I look forward to lighting blunts with that lil fire racoon

Gormôhk smiled the tusked smile as he looked over the paper. "Missing some informations about Kanon agh how he tricked Horen, but most of it ahm correct. Hosh work little norlanders."

Hello there Could this be added please Mr. Panashea

Izû slai, izû mat, Izû slai urzkû. Rain began to fall, soon hitting the uruk’s green skin. The bridge of heads lies forward. “Gorok! you’re back bruddah. Where were you?” “Name’s Borok, Gorok’s mine twin. Where is he?” The memory returns to smoke, a black smoke moving in the Rex’s eyes. The smoke shapes itself again, forming a tent. “The spirits are greedy, they are selfish. they do not care if you live or die, as long as you bring power to them.” The two headed uruk spoke in a deep voice, taking breaks between his sentences to take hits of his blunt. “I was teached to worship the spirits, to pray to them, to feed them with my worship so that I could receive their blessing in exchange.” The green orc answered, shocked by the Wargoth’s views. “Your brother worshipped them, followed their words. Look where Gorok is now.” The smoke twirled again, the visions changing in Borok’s eyes. “Drink, uruk.” A red-haired woman offered her wrist to the uruk, red ichor dripping from a cut. “Gain power beyond your wildest dreams, rise as an envoy of the Blood.” The smog moved again, forest turned into a home. “So you’re a vampyr now huh?” Vesryn asked, a smirk on his face. “An envoy of the Heartbeat, of the Troqugrîzh.” The Targoth of the Iron’Uzg answered. Vesryn grinned at that, before his body turned to black fumes, followed by the rest of the scene. The halls of San’Velku showed themselves to the old uruk, green skinned now turned to brown. “You tricked me, you tricked us all!” An Elysian elf screamed at the Rex “You knew the eye was gonna rot. You knew the truce would be broken!” The uruk sent his greataxe towards the second elysian diplomat, Frisket. “This is war, Elysian. We will not stop until all the filth has been cleansed from the west.” He spoke towards Ehrendil. “Run back to your city and tell them the might of the Horde comes to them. You will be cleansed by Bloodflame.” The memory faded into nothingness as Ehrendil ran off, soon turning into a forest. Dead trees all around, puddle of black oil bubbling on the ground. A path of stone where the green uruk walks once more, two other orcs following behind. “I come with an offering, Ogrol!” The shaman chanted in the elder tongue. Soon, a serpent made its way towards the three orcs, black as night, towering over them. “What have you brought, follower? What more could you offer me?” The spirit asked, its yellow eyes looking down between Borok and the other two similar uruks. “I bring you my sons, Ramlôk and Ramhôk. Their souls against your power.” The two younger uruks were about to speak, but snakes of dark smoke moved to them, biting their skin, pulling them down into the ground. “We have a deal, mortal.” The Immortal Spirit answered, before all faded to black again. The brown titan awoke in his tent, the smoke of green still filling the room “Mortal?” “Only the coward and his descendant were cursed by mortality.” “Why would I die?” Izû slai, izû mat, Izû slai urzkû. The Blood was taken, stolen, ripped from mine mind. Broken we, clouded all we see. Why would we die? Izû slai, izû mat, Izû slai urzkû. These were the only words that echoed in Borok's broken mind as the battle for San'Velku raged on. The path was clear, the future seen. Come forth, spider-lovers! We'll teach you something, HONOR! We'll show you something, TERROR! From the ranks of Blood Slaves, a champion emerged. As the battle continued, flashes of lives past invited themselves into the Rex's split mind. When finally death came, words of old blah echoed in the cursed shaman's head. Izû slai, izû mat, Izû slai urzkû.

"Hmmmmrph" An old uruk mourned the loss of a friend. He soon made his way towards Adria.

Wagh be upon those who stand against us. Almaris has already fallen, a cleanse comes for all the unworthy.

An old uruk moved in fingers through a pool of blood, reading into the patterns of the red ichor. His face soon showed an amused grin as the blood form some peculiar shapes. Your soul was claimed by Kanon, Alexander, King ob the shâra. May lat enjoy latz time in the spirit realm. The shaman then began to laugh, a laugh that soon turned into a cackle as the blood shaped itself again.

Nub touch main roads. Nations can do whatever they want with secondary roads on their tiles.