TheWaffleEater2

Lector

Swamp boogaloo: Swampgoth 5.0 The Worshippers of Laklul have been lost and stranded within the swamps and deserts without guidance. The past few Swampgoths have stranded our true task at hand, putting shadows along our paths and blocking ways of what our true purpose is, for once we will be guided too our eternal goal, and finally completing it. “I will not stand for this anymore. I, Brakaz'Lak, the tongue of Laklul, will not allow abuse against my clan's name, and drug through the dirty waters of rotten lukz. We used to have great honor within Krug, from Shreck’lak to Murdok’Lak, our Swampgoth’s were full of achievements, uruks still cannot achieve some of the feats they have done. The last Swampgoths had abandoned us and left us in the dust. I shall bring glory back to our name, we will once more strike fear into the hearts of pinkies and twiggies. The realm of Laklul will be bountiful as we strive forward with new goals and unresolved quests finally achieved by us. I stand here, as a son and a devout worshiper of Laklul, I shall take the mantle of the sacred title of Swampgoth, and I will bring forth our clan to victory, too long have we been riddled with worms and FALSE TOALAKS. Our Toalaks will grow bigger than ever, the Spirit realm will once more feel the might of the Mighty Laklul, Lord of the Swamps, if I do not hear anything in 2 weeks tik, the title is mine." LUP LAK’LUL!!!!! Signed, zon ub da zwampz agh head tayker ub twiggiez.

-~ ᛏᛅ ᛏᚼᛅᚱᚴ ᚢᛅᚱ ᚾᛁᚴᚼᛁ ᚢᛅᚱᛁᚴᛅᚾ ~- (AMBIENCE MUSIC) (A note would have been left inside Klouf’s room) The hoard of a dwarf is more than just gems, weapons and his trinkets he has collected. It's what makes him a part of the Khazadmar. It fuels the life within a dwarf, it fuels the sense of when one knows they're about to strike big on an expedition. A hoard is what completes a dwarf, it's what makes them dwarven. Without a hoard, are they truly a dwarf? The hoards can say a lot about a dwarf, a small but highly valued hoard could mean that a dwarf is picky in what he wants, or he’s just beginning the hoard. A large hoard could mean he is a collector of low valued items, or they are an experienced hoarder. The size or the value can mean much to a dwarf. It's what others think of the hoard. But in the end, it is how you worship your god, in this case. The Lord of Avarice is not much of a favored god compared to Dungrimm, Yemekar or Oghradad. But he is still common within the treasures of the dwarves. Grimdugan is not picky about a dwarfs hoard, as long as he is adding or taking value into his hoard. Every hoard pleases the lord of Avarice. Not many dwed think about the full aspects of Grimdugan's hoard and its importance to oneself. The Master of the Hoard has a boisterous cave, filled with statues of emerald from distant lands, the cave floor stained with gold, coins above the waist level, gems and ingots scatter the floor, decorated pots, and intricate weapons would lay on racks scattered through the cavern. There was no limit too Grimdugans Hoard. It was vast through the caverns of the gods. There always seemed to be a misconception of Grimdugan, the teachings should be more about the hoard that one collects instead of the darkness Grimdugan keeps with him. Darkness only leads to corruption and plagues, the hoard is what makes a dwarf's wealth, shows how much he follows Grimdugan. Greed is what helps fuel the hoard, without greed, we would become unhungry for more. But greed used for the wrong things leads us down the dark path that Grimdugan misleads us too. That is why we must stay hungry for the horde to get bigger or gain more value to it. That is what Klouf did, he kept true to the hoard, and he made sure it was bountiful, but all his trinkets had meaning, from fighting liches to going on mining expeditions, it didn't matter too much to him though. It was all just replaceable with something of more value. ( -ᛏᛅ ᛁᚱᚱᚬ ᛁᚱᚬᚾ ᚴᛚᚬᚢᚠ - ) Klouf had believed that Grimdugan was a powerful god, an’ underdog' so to say. The concept of the hoard and greed fueled him, he enjoyed gathering knowledge, and collecting rare trinkets from the corners of the lands. For Klouf though, his hoard was subtle, but it had value, from items collected from his first expedition to Attenlund, and gathering a Nechzerak horn, top fighting the wigs of Oren, collecting a voidal stone from the Voidal hallow in Ando Alur, to fighting atop of the Titan attempting to defeat the traitorous Draakompf Doomforge. He has collected many items through his journey, some which are unforgettable. Some would say that something valuable would need to have a special item, too, such as an unbreakable rune, or maybe something impossible to grab only by the hands of a god. But to Klouf, it wasn't any of those, it was a simple axe, forged of crude iron from the mines of Alamaris, an axe forged for his father. It was his first ever axe he had forged coming to Urguan, which his soon to be clan father would have helped him at the time. It was a momentous time for Klouf, he had learned to forge properly within the big city, and he wanted to get his name out there. But his thought was, it was replaceable, and it was replaced, but new weapons he crafted every day. The room Klouf sat in would be a cozy stone cave, his valuables littered the room, the fireplace would be burning with wood, the smell of fire made an aura of smell through the room, a small carpet would be laid across the floor making it seem homey and it had your typical dwarven tools hung on the walls. Klouf would pick the axe up taking a good look at it giving it a final glance and he would say aloud “Elloh yeh buet, es beehn a whole since oi’ve seen yeh.” He would wipe his hand across the shined head of the axe, Klouf's body would tremble even with the fire going and the heat of his own body, it trembled through the night sky. He would unbuckle the helm and he would set it atop of the table that was next to him, he’d take off his boomsteel gauntlet and he set it next to the old helm. He would then stare into the fire, watching the flames jump back and forth as his breaths began to get shallower and shallower. The fire grew hotter and brighter as he sat there enjoying the flames jump back and forth “Teh flames, a glorious ting teh tink about, always needin something teh fuel it, breath agh heat. Meh hoard wos teh same, Narvok ‘oz Grimdugan, o’ lord o’ avarice, o’ darkness. Guide meh hand too Khaz’a’dentrumm an’ allow meh teh roam your halls as a part of’ your hoard. Oi ‘ad shown ottahs wot deh hoard can do, what can beh collected within teh hoard, and what shoul’ beh expected on’ teh hoard. Meh time ‘ere has been finished Meh lord, its time fur ah new Grimgold teh take mantle o’ teh eldeh seat.” Klouf would bring his axe towards his chest, and he would take one more glance as his hoard, hoping it would get distributed towards his kin and used in something greater. “Narvok oz Korodaurok, Narvok oz Grimdugan. May teh gods foind meh soul wortheh to be in teh halls o’ teh dead.” And with that, he would kiss the head of his axe, staring into the fire taking his last couple breaths, he would slowly close his eyes allowing the forever slumber to take over, his skin beginning to turn pale as his soul would be seeped from his body and carried through the stars to be auctioned off to the Brathmordakin. With this it’s the end of the honorable and curious Klouf “Forged-Fist” Grimgold, The Defender of Khron’Hundmar, Proud Rhun Cultist, 3rd Armakak’s Coin, Ex-Guild Lord of the Obsidian Pickaxe, Grimdugan’s devoted worshiper, and most of all the jockey of Azdromoth. Ok Az Dharg Yno’Ordul Gor ( ᚬᚴ ᛅᛋ ᛏᚼᛅᚱᚴ ᛁᚾᚬ ᚬᚱᛏᚢᛚ ᚴᚬᛦ ) (Klouf’s Helm resting on the table.) (Three silver and gold-colored letters with a black fiery fist wax seal on each of them, with small golden linen wrapped around the seals. They would be sent using a beautiful large Ram, the horns larger than its head, colored black and gold. The wool would be thick looking like its ready to be sheared off.) The Honourable, Alaric Grimgold @AlaricGrimgold The Honourable, and my Mentor, Norli Starbreaker. @Nooblius The Iron Khazad, My kin, Rylanor Goldhand. @AfroJoeTheOlogBro

Surrounding the area would be a lush swamp, the reeds grew strong along the water line. The Water was filled with life, but yet was still. Eyes peered through the water looking at the Lak. As the Lak treaded through the swamp, a low rumbling croak would be heard, and the Zhomo would swing around seeing what looked like a hill but had gleaming slimy eyes peering down at the simple Lak. The Lak would stand there staring at the large toalak, before the toad would let out a large croak. “GAAAAAAAZZZZZZ ASSSHHHHHHHH, AMATTTTTTTT LATTTTTT ÛSSSSSSS-LATTT PAASHNAARRRRR SHARRR-GHAARAAAIZIGGGG” The Lak would cover his face as the loud croaking would blow himself back a bit, escaping from the maws of the great Toalak. The Lak would then respond. “IZIG BAAK BÛBHOSH LAKLUL, GOTH OB NIINGHAMP.” Laklul would erupt in a croak, shaking the trees, causing birds to flap away from the moving branches. The Still waters would be pushed away causing small waves too crash across the swamp, the fish stirred from the sound of the croak. “LATTTTTTT RAK KRÛFIZIGGGGGGG, LAT ZAAAAUUUUUG HIILLLLLLLL GHASHAN-IZUB. LATTTTTTT ZAAAAAAUUUUUUUG DRAAAAAGHHHH IZUBB NIIIINNNGHAAAAMPPPP BÛBHOSHUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!” The Lak would nod, dipping his head to the great LAKLUL, being tasked that he will need help from his clan. He would return to the Mortal plane, with tasks whizzing his head, and the dying need to rebuild what has been needed for some tik.

Brakaz'lak would have been meditating within the swamp, as he felt a shift of the air and the Toalaks stopped croaking... The Lak knew something bad has happened.

"Hmmmm mi kan uze diz fur fizhing." Brakaz'Lak would say giving a nod.

"LUP LAK'LUL" A young shaman would say raising his hands in the air.

Ohio?

Brakaz'Lak would smile proudly at the missive and would say "Finali, Klan Lak haz been noticed in ouah komming bak. LUP LAKLUL!!!."

I wanna see Racial Buffs, and something like Nexus come back.

Elf-5555 Reporting for duty. Sir!

"Congratz, Y Hetman." Ivan would say holding a thumbs up, and would then go back to collecting Mina.

Hey! I'm looking for players to help build a nice family up from the ground. We have a couple members, but im looking for more people to help. A Little bit about us. We are Reavir folk, so we are slavic in some ways, we do tend too use the accent, but its up too you. We are within Adria, which is bustling with activity currently. The Family name is Ratispora, and it dates all the way back to the original Adria! Lmk on discord if you're interested Waffle#9820

Elves drool, Dwarves Rool

The Flow of Water. The two uruks sat on a large tree in the middle of a colorful lake within Krug. Then one began to chant, a loud beating hum, and a steady beat following the chant as they began to feel their souls sucked away. Brakaz'lak would feel himself tugged light, before his eyes would close in the mortal realm. Once he had reopened his eyes, he was falling within a black abyss. His eyes watered as he felt the air hitting his eyes, he would go to rub them, after opening them back up. He would find himself atop a large lily pad, within a mangrove swamp. He looked around before hearing a thunderous croak, and a large tree-frog jumped out of the water, covered in spiritualistic marking along the body, making it shine lightly within the dim light of the forest. The tree-frog had croaked, and he let out a sentence in old blah, that Brakaz couldn't understand, but the shaman that brought Brakaz here had translated it for him. The tree-frog was the lesser of Akathro, Grogurk. He was an amazing sight as he croaked and moved around, and Brakaz couldn't believe he was doing this, but he was ready for it. The Spirit would agree to pact with Brakaz, but his duties are to keep the pools, and the waters around the Goi full of life, and making them healthy. He is to make a shrine dedicated to Grogurk. Once they had agreed, brakaz would feel himself pulled under with the toad, and he could feel himself being trapped, and suffocated, feeling the spirits safety had let go, and he was going to drown. He went to close his eyes, letting death welcome him. But after a small bit, he would open his eyes to see himself back atop the lily pad, and he looked around a bit confused, and he told his shaman that he was ready to return. Once he returned, he felt himself wet, and he didn't go into water at all in the mortal realm recently. He would think on this, for a moment, before going to return to the Goi.

Brakaz'Lak is still shaken from what happened. So he just holds a thumbs up and smiles

"Oi dinn' know weh had gotten soh soft, an' fookin whoineh." a Dwarf would shake his head and would throw the missive into the trash.

Klouf Grimgold would grab his book of "Clans that have tried to kill Grimgolds." and he would add the so called "Hammerfist" clan, and he would say to himself "shame tat a whole face, paints a whole clan. But it is wot it is." he would then finish writing up in the book and would say "Yeh knew, Now dat oi tink oh it, teh onleh successful clan teh scare off Grimgolds were teh Stahbreakehs. Goo' luck!"

Ivan Ratispora. smiled brightly at his vote. He patted his fellow Reavir folk, clinking his tankard cheering for Henrik.

"Ah yes, ich appreciate zis mein Margrave. Zhe children of Velen shall not have the minds of barbarians!" Fynn would say as as he continued at clearing out the trees within Ebonwood.

Ser Fynn von Wexler would nod as he read the written open letter. He would give a nod and would say "Well spoken mein sister."

Fynn von Wexler looked at the landscape from where he stood within Aschenwald, and he would ay proudly "This land is a grace of GOD, its beautiful."

Name: Fynn von Wexler Age: 21 Culture: N/A Reason for Enlistment: The love for finding new things, trying new experiements, leading, and looking for adventure Experience (if any): Fought bandits a little bit, studied Alchemy(not learned though), and Scouted ahead looking at new lands ((MC Name)): TheWaffleEater2 ((Discord Tag)): Waffle#9820