DrunkPapaBear

Even if it would be used to gangbang orcs again, Krug returning to cleanse the filth and degeneracy of the world would be soooooo epic

Hating on elves for what they are is the best thing Lotc can offer

The Voice of the Spirits placed his signature upon the document. "Interesting." He'd simply let out before giving the paper back to Kruk-Ta.

A redskin let out a grunt as he peered upon the missive. "That's whub happen when lat get cockey. Deserved."

The Voice of the Spirits grabbed the missive, giving it a quick look. "Neizdark ahm angry kranklûks. Let us hôn whub he wants from we."

An elder haruspex looked through the flames. Faint chants of old blah echoing around his form, over and over again. "Izu slai, izû mat, izû slai urkzû." "Till we meet again, Qudlia, Luara-grîzh kaal ah-ghaash." "Izu slai, izû mat, izû slai urkzû." Did the chant went on as memories of the ker filled the fire of San'briu.

The voice of the spirits claps very hard to King Cyris speech. "Lûp-Cyris! Lûp da league ob super best friends!"

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

I look forward to lighting blunts with that lil fire racoon