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About Wizzar

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Bumba'Akaal // Aonghus Seragon
  • Character Race
    Hobgoblin // Adunian

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  1. "Mi enjoyed da edition with mi name ihn it more, but diz ahm ztill bub'hozh zkah" the Kukaal of Akaal smirks as he reads such blessed works.
  2. Dear Almaris, A certain 24-25 year old Adunian male requires a skygod to navigate their journey on the server. We are looking for active players who can commit to the persona. The roleplay tends to be darker and more serious. If you are interested, message me on discord @ Raztun#7376
  3. The Kukaal of Akaal raises his twisted knife, its blade etched with foreign, red symbols "Globz" he mutters, slamming that instrument down, blood splattering across his entirety. "It ahm interezting, very interezting when da elderly truly begin to loze their grukkerz, descending into madnezz. It ahm the fault ov all of uz to allow the Mot-Sham to hold onto such ah pozition when his grukker ahm clearly decayed and uzeless. When latz open latz peeperz latz will peep dat it ahm juzt zome goblinz abandoning, betraying da urukim to promote der own agenda, fer da ilzgul agh power haz corrupted them" The Doktur wipes blood from his brow. "Mi grukz diz will be ah zhort conflict, fer da urukim will always rize to defeat thoze who ahm againzt uz, we defy all oddz agh theze oddz are in our favor"
  4. Meeting with Tiimûrnûl The Doktur’s soul drifted from his body, everything went black as it traversed planes. Before his new reality set in, a throbbing sensation crept into his mind. Burning, itching, cramping, gnawing, every faucet of pain cycled through his entirety, growing and growing in intensity. When it felt as if the hobgoblin could take no more, the wretched realm appeared to him. His temporary physical form laid on its back, his vision blurry as his eyes fluttered open. Thwack, thwack, thwack... sharp objects ravaged his form. His eye, his neck, his torso, and his feet burned with pain as his flesh was torn, his crimson fluids flowing down his sides. When the Doktur finally was able to see clearly, he saw those hideous vultures that fed on him, he raised his clawed hands, waving them away. Slowly he rose, coughing up dirt and bile as he assessed his surroundings. He stood on an open plain, corpses of faceless descendants littered the ground, hundreds if not thousands of vultures making a meal of the slaughter. Between those bodies, a path revealed itself to the Doktur who limped forward, his body still bleeding, pain enveloping his entirety. It was not for a few minutes until the hulking creature revealed itself before him at the end of the path. The figure was enormous, at least 10 ologs large, its head was that of a raven, its body was that of a rotting uruk, wings on its back that were tattered and bleeding. It tossed corpses in the air, throwing them down its beak, crunching their bones with terrifying pops and cracks. Before the Doktur could speak a word, the creature swept forward, lunging at him with its wicked talons, raising the hobgoblin into the air before him. “Mirz skaat-ik nûl!” it screeches, the decibels piercing the hobgoblins ears, blood dripping from his head. “Budg-izg Bumba ov Akaal, ghûlum-izg urukim” the shaman manages between heavy breaths “Gaakh-izg fiith-nûl, Gaakh-izg gor-nûl. Bagd-latz shum-azh?” “Tiimûrnûl, thrak-nûl, lata-izg blah agh latz brus-gothûrz” it replies, offering the agonizing pact before tossing that hobgoblin into the air snapping its beak onto his form. The Doktur screamed in pain as he was devoured and chewed by the lesser spirit. After a few moments, his soul returned to his form, the memory of that terrible pain etched into his core.
  5. The Kukaal of Akaal reads the notice, his claws digging into its pages "I saw you as one of the urukim" he inhales a breath "While I wonder whether we could have done more to extend your life, I am sure that you now reside with our ancestors in the Stargush. As for Emony, your daughter is one of the greatest among our kind, one that I find incredible potential in. May you rest peacefully old friend" With that, the hobgoblin returns to his work in the Feasting Pit.
  6. A certain Hobgoblin carefully reads each and every word, nodding in his head in approval "Yub, diz ahm hozh" he smirks "Mi ahm glad to peep Kor'Garr back in da goi"
  7. THE NEW MEDICGOTH *bloodied parchments are posted around the blargs of San’Velku* Throm’ka urukim! I am sure you all know me, Bumba’Akaal, Kukaal of clan Akaal. I have decided to take over the medical office. In my decades of medical training and aimlessly walking around the hospital in Haense, I have become proficient in all forms of healing, physical and mental. I consider myself an expert medical Haruspex and Witch Doctor. With over 10000 hours in bloodletting, trepanation, and cursed healing, I have almost saved a few lives. This serves as a formal declaration for the position of MEDICGOTH. With that, I will be accepting two applications for assistants. If you are interested in learning the arts of healing, send word to me, the MEDICGOTH. Together, we shall strive for a surgery success rate of at least 50%. Signed Bumba’Akaal, Medicgoth of the Iron’Uzg (If your stuff is in the doctor’s office, it is my stuff now)
  8. The Kukaal carried that burn-scarred uruk to the top of the Clan Hall, the sun buried beneath dark, ominous clouds. His mentor, his teacher, and his closest friend's body laid lifeless before the Shrine of Krug, his body deformed by the burns of the treacherous flames. Bumba'Akaal's lanky form trembled, his verdant orbs surrounded by a red haze. The first student of Skaatchnak retrieved his worn haruspexy knife, its bone-adorned blade etched with strange red symbols. Pressing its sharpness against the dead's skin, he carved along his forearm, allowing the old shaman's crimson fluid to spill onto the stone. The red symbols glow, a red fog seeming to appear around the duo as he moved the blade along his own arm. A pool of blood surrounded the two, dripping down the steps of the old Rex Palace. Bumba extended his arm forward, placing his bleeding forearm against his teacher's. "Grizh-hon, Grizh-hul... da cycle of grizh continues mi teacher. Latz grizh continues into da new era, an era of blood agh flame. Da Heartbeat will alwayz connekt latz to da mortal plane, lup'Throqugrizh" With that, the hobgoblin closed his eyes, mumbling a prayer to his Ancestor before beginning his march back to his blarg to begin preparations for the burial.
  9. Paying his continued respect to Skaatchnak, the Bloodflame Shaman and Krothuul, the Last Ramgoth, the Kukaal dazes off, his form becoming limp against the stone steps before the Shrine of Krug. The visions of the crimson battlefield illuminate in his dreams, that visage of himself in terror as that gargantuan beast ravages all in its path. The Witchdoctor awakens from this prophetic nightmare, his eyes opening to his fallen brothers once more. "Da urukim ahm nub strong enough... mi grukz wi may all join latz both in da Stargush soon" With that Bumba'Akaal returns to planning their burial rites, his sorrowful gaze now etched with fear.
  10. The Kukaal rises from the dirt floor of his blarg in haste. His breathing heavy, sweat dripping from his furrowed brows. Twisting his head left and right to ensure nobody was around, he exhaled a long sigh, raising a clawed appendage to his temple. Awake from his shortened slumber, the hobgoblin gets to work, marching down into the Feasting Pit to make that dream a story, piecing together each fragment into a living story, one that he can look back on if necessary.
  11. How would you power rank the top 5 shamans?
  12. Aonghus' metal digits unfolded the letter, his colorless expression examining its substance. Its contents crumbled under his tightening grip, beginning to rip and tear in his shaking hands. Foreign beads of water fell from his face, falling onto the tarnished letter "I do not believe it... lies..." he managed between ragged breaths, his swollen eyes shutting tight as he finally crumbled the paper within his balled fists "Ailsa" he whispers his wife's name, his figure visibly shaking. The sorrow turned to anguish and rage as he retrieved his broadsword, using it to wreck havoc on the nearest wooden bench. Blood and blistered covered his hands as he finished, his form slumping to the ground as he wept for his fallen Adunian.
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