Booyah

THE WESTERN DECEIVERS “Dealing with backstabbers, there’s one thing I’ve learned, they are only powerful when your back is turned.” They were journeying to the home of the Rex from Norland, a long, treacherous ride on horseback. Pyabri pulled the reins of his horse to a halt with his brother Iolas on the rear as they faced the outside gate. He rapped his fist against the gate, announcing their arrival to all who heard. A few scowls were thrown in their direction, an air of distrust falling over the environment. A shiver slipped down the ‘Ker’s spine as he’s led through the gates by the Rex, a mutual nod between the two, a silent exchange of glances but neither shared the expression of friendship. The Rex motioned over to a table in the far, dark corner of the square, “Zit down.” He booms, his tone authoritative and demanding. The ‘Kers sat swiftly, a gulp sounded audibly from Pyabri’s person as he focused his gaze on the Rex. “You know why we are here.” Pyabri announced boldly, slamming his clenched fist down onto the polished, dark oak table in the Rex’s vicinity “I killed the man and searched the contents of the blood-covered carcass; I found the note you sent, traitor!” Pyabri adds with sudden aggression, grabbing the attention of nearby citizens as they begin to shuffle closer. The Rex chuckled before exhaling a slight sigh, as he pats both the ‘Kers’ shoulders. “Perhapz we zhould go elzewhere.” Pyabri shoots his figure up followed by his brother, he lets out a smirk to those surrounding, relief appearing upon both ‘Kers’ faces, “After you.” he gestures to the Rex to take the lead. Off they went the Rex, both Kers and another, unfamiliar individual. The look of disgust on citizens who abruptly interrupted the ‘private’ discussion is evident in their glares. The Rex leads the group to a more secluded room just beside the gates. Pyabri feared for both him and his brother as the unfamiliar man stroked his axe, basically a silent threat, something was clearly wrong with him he was definitely not sane. The brothers' eyes meet, a scared look on both, a look of wanting reassurance of their safety once more. The Rex places his hands on the table, twiddling his odd looking thumbs as he gazes from each ‘ker to the other. A slight smirk foreshadowed over his face as he made a plan “Latz nub ztupid.” He murmurs, letting out a long breath. Pyabri leans back in his chair, a wrinkle forming on the bridge of his nose. “How about zhis…Mi can give latz land and shamanism.” That made Pyabri lean forward, a brow raising as he shot a look towards his brother. Was this a mere trick in the deceivers’ books to buy Jindle’s silence or was it an honourable offer? Pyabri couldn’t tell the difference as he inhales through his nostrils before his brother sits up “I wouldn’t mind being a shaman.” He comments which makes Pyabri clucked his tongue, annoyance lining his features. The orc rises to his feet, beckoning the pair to join him before he rides them to the land they were offered, allowing them to take a look around for themselves. The uncomfortable feeling of a hand attempting to wrap around his mouth, trying its hardest to silence him as it’s covered with jewels was starting to haunt Pyabri but he masked it with a cocky smile. Still, he wasn’t able to push back that uneasy feeling no matter how hard he tried. There were only two things on Pyabri's mind; Do they take the land and greed for shamanism or does he tell Norland about his suspicions of the Rex’s deceiving ways?

BLOOD, SAND AND SNOW “One minute for them to assume, one minute for lives to perish” There it ended, in the thick humidity of the south, upon the bloodied, cobbled stone outside Balian’s capital. In the aftermath of such a battle walked a delirious Pyabri, the sandy mist of a grim atmosphere drifting beneath his heavy lids. The ‘ker wandered to the bodies of those he and his friends slaughtered, searching upon their cold, lifeless carcass’ hunting for valuables and goods. His gaze drifted towards a certain armoured man, body just as mangled and maimed as the last though search was required and so he reached his blood soaked hands within the man’s armour. Much like the last he retrieved coins, odd trinkets and swords but something peculiar caught his eye. A small, bloody note was pulled from his pocket, a startling revelation as he read its contents. The ‘ker grips the note in anger, calling for his horse and spitting at the ground, annoyance biting at his lip before he tugs on the reins and rides off. Pyabri arrives in Norland, his breath showing in the crisp air as he stares towards the gates. His gaze is piercing as he pulls the sword from his side, pointing it towards the gathering of Norlanders that stand on the other side. One hundred men at least. He looks around him, towards his family and tries to count heads as best as he can. He grits his teeth when he soon realizes how short they were in comparison. Only fifty. He shakes himself out, swallowing the shaky breath that threatens to give away his fears. Vengeance, Pyabri knew attacking Norland once more would be inevitable; he knew attacking Norland once more would send a message to the Rex. Betrayal, this word alone and the actions of the Rex caused the proceeding battle forced onto Norland leaving their favourable odds crawling and scrambling to see another day. Hours spent, blood spilt and it was done, a decisive victory. His kinsmen had won. Pyabri sheaths his blood-stained longsword back into its sleek leather sleeve. He grasps onto the note once more glancing back and forth to his brother Endyn. “One more thing we need to do.” He’d say as they head west.

Jakodi Bartham smirked widely at the missive, congratulating his nephew, Donny, on his successful assassination on Caius de Ravensburg.

Cya dude <3

“Let ‘em do their cowardly tea party activities” Jakodi states before chuckling to himself wiping stained Orenien blood from his blade. “Rastahman, they’re all cowards” he mutters to himself shaking his head in disbelief.

“Common Romstun W” he shrugs

Jakodi lifts his blade from a fresh wound of an Orenian. "Didn't even break a sweat"

Jakodi chuckles reading the missive "So radical"

Can I take leader of the rustlers oh wait….

It was a cold and numbing night, chatter filled the air of Elysium, laughter’s from the tavern echoed throughout the street bouncing from wall to wall, house to house. Morpheus entered the gates, as he walked into town covered in furs to protect himself for the cold night. As he walked into Elysium, the warmth emanating from the tavern attracted him, drawing him in, calling to him. As the night went on, Morpheus Rames entered the tavern, as multiple eyes pierced him down, staring into the soul of a man, that was rarely seen in Elysium. As he approached the bar and sat down, he bought himself some whiskey from the barkeep to stay warm during the cold night. The tavern was filled with a beautiful atmosphere, with people laughing, bards playing, with drinks and hot food being provided seemingly on the spot. It was truly a magical night and a magical place to be in, however little did Morpheus realise, that this lovely night would soon be his last. Consumed by the atmosphere of the tavern, Morepheus Rames allowed himself, for the first time in many years, to feel free and enjoy his surroundings. As he talked and drank away the night, the man accidentally gave a child to hold his alcohol and for a moment that Morpheus wasn’t watching, the child drank it…. poisoning himself. Suddenly, realizing his mistake, the man paid for his drink and food, apologized and with filled with great disappointment for allowing himself to relax for just a moment, rapidly walked towards the gates hoping to leave the city of Elysium and banish himself from ever appearing there as a punishment to server as a reminder of the grave mistake he made. However, as Morpheus soon came to realise, the people of Elysium were not what they claimed to be, as he was savagely attacked by six-armed people. Morpheus fought valiantly using all the tricks that he has in his book, from his enchanted scythe to his gloves, even using the alchemical potions that he always carried on him. Although Morpheus was indeed a skilled fighter, he would not be able to fend off six-armed people that mercilessly attacked without even allowing a chance for an explanation. After some time has passed, the man was exhausted, which was used by the attackers to slash his body until the man was no longer breathing. As Morpheus drew his last breaths, the life that he lived flashed before his eyes: the times he spent as a snaga to the orcs, the Redfists, the Der Ryder Clan, The Goats of Sedan and the fall of Rozania. But most importantly, Morpheus remembered that what he held dear to his heart…his girlfriend: Shannon and his friends Octavia, Atherion, Brian, Watcher, and many others. Finally, as the attackers continued to slash at his body, Morpheus Rames fell to the cold ground as the light faded from his eyes and as his great adventure concluded.

Yerro Scáth would hear Brawly's wails, Yerro would remain slumped in his bed playing with a wooden soldier toy. Yerro was aware of Keetzo's death, although they had not met yet he felt distraught and empty inside. "Mayh da zpirihtz bi wiv lat bruda" A small tear would from in the corner of his eye as he would join his family to mourn.