Wizzar

Bumba'Izig shrugs as he reads the treaty. "The Warnation was dismantled, the war was already over. These terms were mostly implemented. "he'd shake his head, snorting to himself. "I guess tiny people need to compensate in other ways"

RUKAS TO THE IRON'UZG The season of Bûrzgraz, or as non-orcs call it, the Deep Cold. Twilight lingered in the night sky, illuminated by the constellation forming the shape of an eye. A bead of sweat dripped from the Ruka’s forehead as he placed a wooden vase filled with blood and fragments of bone, both from a deer he recently hunted, on his anvil. Slowly, he raised his forge hammer into the air before slamming it down onto the vase. As the bone and blood splattered across the room, the hobgoblin was not phased, focused on the anvil before him. A small grin crept upon the haruspex’s features as he placed a well-callused palm on the side of the anvil as leverage to pull his body closer to it. Painted in a claret ooze and osseous matter, he saw the image of a scorpion. Nodding at what he believed to be the approval of his ancestors, he would get to work, crafting a variety of aurum weapons and tools. As he finished his work, he picked up a wooden board, writing a message on it in blood. Our Rex, with the approval of our ancestors, has chosen me as Rukagoth. I call forward all Ruka to join me as we help forge the IRON that shall protect and serve this nation. Any brother involved with a craft or looking to get involved in crafting should seek me out as we mold our future. - Signed Bumba’Izig (OOC: If you are an Olog, there is much for you to participate in. Feel free to reach out!)

The Haruspex shakes his head, the bones adorning his figure rattling as his body shifts "Nub... Mi haz peep'd diz azh in da goi, he ihz an honurabel bruddah. Diz ihz nub ryte... Zkah diz Vulmir"

Scarred Story II Every orc feels its presence in the back of their mind, an everlasting conflict between honor and brutality. A desire to satiate their sanguiness yet abide by the teachings of Krug. The hobgoblin lifted a large, ragged rock over his head. He would look up towards the midnight sky, aglow with a constellation of stars depicting that of a wing, signifying the season of Krugbroshan, of health and healing. Pride, a double-edged sword. Pride holds an orc to high standards, keeping them optimistic in the darkest of times, and spurring ambition and leadership. However, pride conceals bloodlust in a guise of honor, justifying savagery against the weak. The impact of stone with bone resonated across the empty mountains, echoing around the hobgoblin. The blood of the beast splattering over his face as ribs cracked and splintered. His bloodshot eyes opened wide as he breathed in deep, heavy breaths. Balance is a façade, a utopian impossibility preached by those in power to subdue their subordinates. An orc should be judged on honor and honor alone, this is the path towards the Stargush’Stroh. Thrusting his hands into the beast’s chest, he gave a distorted snicker as a smirk crept onto his features. He was enjoying this, it satisfied something deep within him. His mind, consumed by his sinful desires, obscuring his purpose. Snagas are weak, fragile people. They are thrusted into a culture, often lost and unable to decipher the purpose of their roles. Disobedience is natural, intolerable, but should be expected. This insubordination must be resolved, though the tendency is to always give into our curse. Snagas are beaten, dismembered, and killed, pushing them further off the course of cultural and spiritual enlightenment. Pulling his hands towards his face, he’d stare as the claret ooze seeped down his arms. He’d shut his eyes, inhaling a deep breath, fighting against the viciousness that had taken hold of him. Slowly, he’d enter a trancelike calmness as he called out for the ancestors to guide him. His time as Snaganoth was brief, lasting less than a cactus day. Still, he had learned a great deal. The snagas were misled, a wild bunch that defied the fate the spirits have assigned them. Brothers and sisters were too impatient and prideful, often failing in their duties that Krug took upon our people to guide the other descendants towards honor. The practice ultimately furthering our descent into bloodlust. He pulled the heart out rather easily. Its clotted purplish form glistened under the stars of Akezo. A current of wind pushed against his body as he stared down at the source of bloodlust. It was then that he felt the calling of his ancestors. His doubts vanished, the path towards honor clearer than ever. Pride and Bloodlust must be contained, the orkish people tread too closely to their beastial nature. The ancestors hold the answers. This will not be the first time he will call for them.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9XhtzULRBA Scarred Story Stalking the volcanic terrain outside of Krugmar, Bumba crouched low as he peered over a small hill. Below him, unaware of the uruk’s presence, was a young horse focused on eating a patch of grass. Bumba released the arrow, it bolted towards the horse's neck, leading to its eventual collapse and inevitable death. Bumba approached the corpse of the animal, he’d extend his hand down to stroke its mane. Slowly, he would begin to turn over the animal, so that it laid on its back. Removing his long knife from his side, he would begin the process. Carefully, he would press the tip of the knife into its upper abdomen. As he pressed down, a dark, wine-colored blood would ooze from the cut, moving down towards the horse's back. Bringing his hand down, he would slice down towards the horse’s lower stomach. Moving his free hand into its internals, he would gently, but firmly grasp the creature's intestines, pulling it out slightly. Dropping his knife, he would use both of his hands to pull out 15 meters of small intestines as if tugging on a rope. Covered in the animal's blood, Bumba would examine the intestines, noticing small worms wiggling around inside. “Yub, diz azh wuz ztrugglin” he’d mumble. He would stick his hand into the horse once more, pulling out nothing but his own bloodied hand. He’d move his face close to get a better look at the blood. “Da grizh peepz normul, mi guezz da wurmz nub effekt dat part uv da horze, yub”. Moving the intestines to the side, Bumba looked towards the upper chest of the horse . Again, he would use his knife to slice through the skin and any tissue. As he moved his hand into its chest, he would come across its ribs, With the back of his knife, he would begin pounding at it until he heard a crack. Pulling out the broken rib pieces, the heart of the horse would be revealed. He would seize it with his hand, holding it high into the sunlight, the blood dripping down his arm and moving down his body. The sun illuminated its features, giving it a red glow. “Diz muzt be ah zign... Haruzpexy ihz da way fer mi now...” he’d announce confidently before taking a large bite of organ, the blood dripping down his chin. “Mi anceztorz have blah’d t’ mi diz day, mi path ihz clear, da futur uv da urukz ihz strong”. Bumba laid down in the sunlight, the heat of the environment pressing down on his dark, blood-covered orcish hide, a grin plastered on his face.

Name: Brevnor Tathvir Race: Snowman Age: 157 Gender: Male [[OOC]] Username: Krunos10 Discord: Wizzar#7376 Timezone: EST

MC Username: krunos10 RP Name: Brevnor Tathvir

Alone in the crypts, the body of Ivaryne Araaloq rests. Despite his crushed head and missing eye, his face looks peaceful, more than it ever had. Earlier that day, his neck had met cold steel on a particular set of stairs in Ando Alur. His lifeless body fell down the steps as the surrounding crowd spectated, offering no help to the Vigilant of Rage. No justice was served as the murderers easily escaped, the city quickly returning to normal Now the stairs stand out in the city, unusually clean, an attempt to hide the tragic event that befell the young Mali'Fenn.

OOC: ((MC Name: Krunos10)) ((Discord: Wizzar# 7376)) ((Timezone: EST)) IN-CHARACTER What is your name? = Ivarnye Araaloq Why seek membership to the Mages Guild? = I am very curious of the voidal arts, seek to understand why my people consider it taboo. What arts, if any, do you currently practice? None What position do you desire to attain upon acceptance? Practicus When should you be contacted for an interview? = Usually between the hours of 9 am to 4 pm.

Name: Ivaryne Araaloq Race: Snow Elf Age: 23? Gender: Male [[OOC]] Username: Krunos10 Discord: Wizzar#7376 Timezone: EST

"This is one strange monarch" Ivaryne would comment angrily.

Birth Wandering through unknown territory, in search for a concept so foreign to the resentful Mali’Fenn, Nurture. His mind could not help but dawdle on his estrangement with the word, his largely absent father mostly to blame. At least Norland’s snow-covered terrain made him feel more at home than his father or Elvenesse ever could. Not knowing what he was looking for or where he would find it angered him, but his dedication to Wyrvun forced him to press on. Buried under the snow, the crow laid, seemingly ready to embrace the eternal winter. This lonely creature resonated with him, he saw himself in the crow, in some ways he understood it. Trapped and alone, with no way out. He quickly wrapped it in a cloth, not fulfilling just his duty to nurture the animal, but with a desire to nurture his first friend. Peace As the towering uruk handed him the dirty slab of raw meat, he knew what he must do. He did not expect it to taste so vile, nor did he expect to see the swallowed meat along with his prior meal on the floor in front of him. No matter, this act of peace was enough to earn the respect of the two, whom he questioned about their culture, government, and religion. He hid his anger and distaste of their savage ways behind a fake smile, as he wrote their answers in his notebook. He was not happy that Kindrel insisted on coming, but it did make it easier. Krugmar was his choice, for he felt the need to prove himself. Not only to the Prince, but to Kindrel, his father, and to Wyrvun. War A seasoned hunter finds its prey, though, deep in the dense forest, the prey found him. Overly confident, he had traversed the forest in search of a worthy beast. Time went quickly and he found himself hungry and thirsty, cuts lining his shins from the thorny bushes. The starving wolf must have thought him an easy meal as it revealed itself from behind the thicket, eyes calm as it stalked him. He found himself grinning as he crouched low, circling the beast with his knife in hand. As a howl erupted, he took the opportunity to thrust forward to claim his trophy. The jaws of the beast bit down on his hand as it entered its mouth, its claws managing to mangle his face. He shouted as he pushed the knife deeper, staring into the wolf’s eyes as they drained of life. Anger led him to assault the fallen beast’s body with a profusion of stabs, blood dripping from his hand and face. War, he found, is a good channel for his Rage. Death Why did he have to go second? Knowing what was to come made it so much worse. Death angered him, he had too much to accomplish, or rather, to prove. Still, he let the cold take him. It had helped that Kindrel was there to guide him, despite his best efforts, he trusted and, in some ways, even looked up to her. As he faded out of consciousness he was calmed by visions of a beautiful, freezing winter. He would awaken next to the fire, a grin outlined on his fatigued face. Death is always lurking in the shadows, he will not waste anymore time. Rage Words can be stronger than steel, they can pierce through even the toughest of armors. “Failure”, “Worm”, “Disgrace” lingered in his head, teasing him, belittling him. Blind rage thrusted his knife forward aimlessly, ending with him on the floor. It would take a few hopelessly angry attempts for him to realize the errors in his ways. Uncontrolled rage is like a dull sword, if it is not properly sharpened, it is self-destructive. If rightly honed, it can be used as an advantage, as a strength. Focusing his rage into calculated strikes, he drew blood on his accomplished opponent, a pride-filled moment before he was inevitably beaten unconscious. Vigilance The scars of the past linger across Ivaryne's body. They serve to remind him of the failures he must overcome. Rage is a tool and he is learning to properly wield it. Against all odds, where few engage, My grip I slip and fury uncage. Consumed by wrath, I let rampage - My fire is bright; it burns with RAGE. Thus rises the Vigilant of Rage.

I would like to preface this by saying I am new to the server (2ish weeks in) and that I am currently playing a goblin. Question 1: What is one thing you dislike about Orcs/Krugmar? How can it be improved? Currently, I think the biggest issue with Orcs/Krugmar is the activity/population combined with the fact that nothing new and exciting is happening involving Orcs. From my experience as a new player, the orcs within the city are super helpful and friendly but there are just too few on for a new player like me to truly feel immersed. It has been 2 weeks and I barely have been introduced to much of the culture and have been trying to find a place within the society to no avail. This inactivity combined with the fact that no big events or new changes are coming to the Orcs make it somewhat uninteresting to get involved with when so much else is happening elsewhere. I think this could be improved by structuring the clans better or bringing activities into the city. (I am haven't thought as much about specific fixes) Question 2: What is one thing you like/admire about Orcs/Krugmar? The small community is great! I think people misunderstand the culture and reasons for doing certain things. While outside of the city may be mostly pvp stuff, inside the city is great conversation and interesting traditions. Question 3: What do you think Orcs/Krugmar biggest opportunity for improvement is? I actually think moving more towards more brutal/barbaric ways (which I heard was how things used to be) may help. It seems we aren't as violent as we should be. Also, I think more shamanism is always p cool. (Though, I do not think my insight on improvements is very useful) Overall, I love my goblin and the community but it definitely has been difficult to be a new player in Krug'Mar. I just feel uninvolved and like there is nothing for me to do.

IN-GAME NAME: Krunos10 TIMEZONE: EST ROLEPLAY CHARACTER NAME: Glurgz RACE: Gobbo DISCORD: Wizzar#7376