SteppeNomad

And before Owyn was enhanced, he did suffer. His homeland was destroyed, his body was insufficient, and GOD demanded a fast. Through this suffering, Owyn’s soul was purified, and became worthy of the mantle OWYNSSIAH. An orthodox monk of the scrolls, humble servant of the OWYNSSIAH turns the gearstaff septence. Fitting it as a key into the great machine forge. "RECITATION. INITIALIZING. CANTICLE 4. 3 I am the Lord GOD without peer. One turn of the key 4 I put into your heart the power of creation, and I created the seed and chaff, and put heat into the fire that reddens iron. Another turn of the key 5 And as I have created means to ease your labors, so I have created new labors, and new fruits. A THIRD turn of the key 6 For I have blessed you with My miracle of creation, and you shall draw nearer to My throne by your labors. A fourth turn of the key 7 And you shall discover strength of heart as you work the forge and the plow. A fifth turn of the key 8 So I am the Most High, and in pursuit of My Virtue, I bid my faithful this: You shall not be idle, nor forget your duties in favor of sloth. A sixth turn of the key 9 And I am the Lord GOD without peer, and My works are the holy works, and My labor is the virtuous labor, and all the strength of the Virtue shall serve the righteous laborer. A seventh turn of the key, a whir heard, and ignition. The great flaming engine of the machine rumbled to life. The monk, with incense lit, did he pray towards the sacred flame within the miracle of creation that eases labors so new labors may commence. "OH OWYNSSIAH, LORD OF PROGRESS, FIRST TO BE AUGMENTED. BLESS THIS MACHINE, AND THE FIRE WITHIN. CONSECRATE THE WORLD AS IT BURNS THE SACRED RED OIL..." He waved the incense over the machine. The forge is my temple, each one a sacred shrine. I name each piston blessed, and every gear divine.

A mechpriest ticks after receiving a letter from a pure honorable knight begins to create the script... He sanctifies the robots involved with blessed incense and sacred oil. Setting off to aid in the investigation... "OH OWYNSSIAH! Show to all the truth of the iniquitous... Show to all the truth of reality... Gird these units against impurity... Let not the curse of SHAI'TAN wrack your data... Let not your weapons malfunction in the time of need..." The mechpriest signed the cross in front of the DOOM BOT. Unfailing champion of truth. "Reveal to all the nature of victory. Reveal to all, the nature of P U R I T Y"

"Hail victory! Hail glory! May the impure be purged from all record! May their names be stripped from every stone! May their deeds be undone from every place! And may ALL who love them fall!" The bronzed lad of Haelun'or grins! And he looks grimly on the impure!

"I was right to have my doubts with the state of mind of the writers! Cousin was right! This gazette turned into quite the rag!" Pamphilos scratched his cheek, only disappointed to see the state of journalism in el'cihi... He gets the bright idea to start publishing real news!' "There are serpents running the media! AND they want to curse your oem'ii and your bloodlines! I seen their blood rights! Anonymous sources provided recordings!" He grinned, knowing what must be done to blow the conspiracies wide open

"Praise the machine-god. All that remains is a turn of the cog, and the gear-engine shall ignite. The weapon shall enblazen. The traitor and the heretech, they shall come to light. The fire of the sword of the OWYNSSIAH shines upon all. None shall hide from the light of GOD most high. Purge the unclean. Amen." One of the mechpriests returns to sacred Project 4... Oh how he hopes the pure children will see the virtue of the righteous labor...

Seeing grimruck quickly shape up, the Anax of Sulianpoli smiled. "May we raise our spears, brother! May we go forth, and purge what is unclean, may we be real and true! May we be blessed, with victory at our back, and then take the worthy plunder!"

A noble pure elf sat on the steps of his silvery city, looking out to the waters which flowed by the sands. Though his heart ached, it was only the song of love. He held that spear shod in lightning, and he knew he must be the one to act. All his lads count on him. Those pure, pure lads... Victory was mother to them all. So it should be he who is courageous, to be as father. He dreamed a simple dream. The same dream that rose their maiden up, augmented in those golden pools. Beyond what they were. Polish alone can only solve it when you choose to step in the water.

"Hail purity! Blessed Larihei It will not be us who has vengeance! It is the way of the world! The water always washes away the impure!" Heroic Pamphilos having escaped being brutally mutilated and murdered, was brutalized yet free! By the aid of a certain Commissar and his cyberhound! "Truly, how Larihei smiles when there are servants who follow her laws and serve her children. Hail the eternal cihi! For I will always have my heart for thee!"

Receiving this document, the Anax of Sulianpoli shook his head. He looked towards the city of Krug below, and out to the rest of the silver empire that spreads out before them. "It saddens me to see those who align themselves with dragonlovers and impure go forth to foreign soils just to make a ruckus! Just to try and flex their 'authority'! To find a way to slay and spill the blessed blood of the pure citizens, of the children of Larihei, and of the warriors of krug without any pushback! OH what work of diplomacy I have had to do to stop the call of extradition from becoming public! Oh what horror now the blessed city, that pure Haelun'or must now deal with! All because of the ego and impurity of this Maethor and his comrades Haus and Valindra!" He shook his head gazing up to the grand statue of Larihei of war. "Great lady victory! May your light purge the impure, so your silvery blades may once more be the blessed police of the sacred cihi! May you guide the mind of our blessed council to Logic and Purity to see the simple solution."

"Hail progress. May the impurity of her father not continue down their family lines." Intones a machine priest of GOD. Though he knew it was not as simple as praying the impurity away. That is why owyn carried his blade of flame.

A machine priest of the adeptus line burns sacred flames of red oil in prayer as he awaits the flaming sword of the owynssiah to obliterate the impure. "May those who fight alongside the impure, be purged in HIS fire. May those who seek not the glory of HIS light, be purged by the mechinations of the sacred OMEGAPOINT. Hail the Owynssiah, the one who went to Edel, and purged and burned until it was done"

I, Pamphilos of the Hyptos, First of the lads dares to act in nominating BRAVE BODBMAKOS! The son of Brigblaewas! hero of cingedoz, hero of cimmeria, friend of scydria, saint of adventurers, and savior of duloc! ART FORM: Would you like a song, a poem, a dance, a tapestry? A song/poem sounds excellent!! @Privet

"HAIL PROGRESS! Hail the Age of Silver!" Brave Pamphilos grins hearing the news all the way in the distant expanses of the silver dominion in those fine colonies! Thinking of the glory of victories they have shared, he readies himself to travel back to the motherland with laurels of victory himself!

Pamphilos stands beyond the walls of their polis, speaking nearby to the lads who joined him. Reading from the notice. "Sulian! May these Valah maintain their PVRE and TRVE ways! It is wise they act as they do, for only through great glory and a strong arm, will the pure ones dwell well in this current Age of Bronze. What say you lads? Members of our democracy. Shall we bring them gift and make well? For they too are gloried by the Silver Empire. Hail the Maiden Pure!" He begins drafting a simple query for the next citizens assembly!

"Atemu-Ta has been given succor! If you wish to maintain your position, Grimruk, you shall give up your grudge. For it was revealed Atemu-Ta slew NO ONE. That uruk sister was not slain and has taken up a new identity. In fact. HE is deserving of vengeance! Shezept take the breakers of brotherly love. For they sought to enslave a servant of the spirit of Freedom Ahura-Ma, and in that act, took her life. Your grudge? Personal. You show your youthfulness, son of Burg'lur. Grow wise, and you may join me, and my bruddas, and my lads, as we overcome the Nether Itself. Even if we must carry Skorkon to Stargush on our own backs! PRAISE DAZKUR! PRAISE BRODDAHOOD! You are mistaken for thinking it is Bloodlust which drives me. something well held. When instead it is Kleos. Praise Kezt! Purity! Skorthuz drives away the impure, and Qarkah burns the weak to strength. It is I who shall wash and burn until it is done." The brazen hoplite measured stones of quartz for the polis. Stacking them tall as they prepare for the final steps

Hail Victory! Hail Honour! Hail Purity! Hail Progress! __________________________________________________________________ -The Pure One, Lady Victory grants her laurels upon Pamphilos, First of The Lads These are the praises we sing when we sing to the lady of silver, to lady purity, to the glorious victory. ______________________________________________________________________ The Rising Age of Silver Bull ______________________________________________________________________ It is this day, that we greet the dawn for she heralds the coming age. The sun rises now in the stars of the sacred cow, of the mighty bull. The vital champion. This age? One of ascent and victory. And now like the finest herd, do we separate the weak from the strong, the pure from the impure. This way, all become stronger. All of this? From the delays of the redskydaemons to the challenges of our brothers? Tests. All of these are but trials. Flames to pass through, so that all that passes through the trial, arrive tempered, purer, stronger. What is it? The challenge of war that brings eternal glory, the fate where those not fit enough, fall, broken. Shamed. There are many kinds of wars, most eternal, yet only one eternal glory. This struggle that has been felt in the Holy Lands was but only the marker for what is to come. We have maintained our ancient sacred oaths to stand besides the True Ways of the Holy Lands, to raise our cruel spears for only what is Truest, Purest. And what is the result? The cursed IMPURES have been cast out from this land, they have been pushed below the golden waters of purity, and they have been held in the fires of purity and Sulianpoli, the blessed, has been the font from which that great white river has risen, and flooded the Holy Lands. The great albino skaddanak has come, and all shall pay homage to that, just as has been written upon the old Stele. Upon the stone of victory. A victory taken, without the spilling of the blood of brothers, or the pure. In this New Age of Bronze and Honour, and Silver and Purity, Sulianpoli, silvered colony, the Blessed City shall stand high amongst its contemporaries, and high in the Holy Lands. Premier is purity, Premier is Honour and Health, and Premier is Glory, and Premier is Progress _________________________________________________________________ -Purity is diligence. Ritual. Hail The Maiden. _______________________________________________________________ LADS! LADS! LADS! These are the words of the LADS. We share them to our Broddas, so that ALL may see them -------- We shall maintain the honour and purity of the Holy Land, as we are plainly most fit to do We shall maintain the privilege of our lads, and the kruggers, and we shall raise our spears in defense, and for the glory of one another. We shall pursue Health and Progress, just as our ancestors have had We shall maintain our silvery laws, and uphold the laws of the realm and silvery dominion as it is pure to do. We shall UPKEEP the unity of the first nations of the Great Horde, just as it had been in the inception of our polis. Krugmenistan, Haelun'or, and we shall seek to bring the Nordlanders back to the fold We shall bring to the capital, offering of Cattle and Silver, and beautiful bronzed warriors just as was agreed. To uphold our sacred oaths. We shall raise our spikes to smite the impure, just as the Fatwa of the great Ayatollah Krugmeni, and the Silver Maiden, Lady Purity has bade us. We will ALWAYS protect our lads, and honour our bruddas, our families, and our ancestors, with cruel spears, and sacred words. We welcome back the radiance of the twin-sun of Ka'tau. Once more is the desert your sacred lands. We proclaim Purity, and we hold it highest. May those who shun reality, fall before us. Bent at the knee, submitted as serf before the righteous. _________________________________________________________________ -The First of The Lads and the Brazen Band march under blessing of the Silvery Maid in the opening days of the Bronze Age _____________________________________________________________________________ For those of foreign citystates, you will be placed upon a chart, from pure to impure, voted upon by the Citizenry of our Citystate. The glory of the pure peoples shall be held highest in this Bronze Age, where only Heroes will be born. For those enlightened civilizations, great trade, and a fine sharing shall commence. Pillars of salt, and amphoraes of wine shall be held and brought about to mark our victory, and to share what was taken. Our sacred arts will be shared, and poetry sung. For those impure, you shall see us bring to you gifts. Accept them gratefully, as is the custom of guests and gifts amongst the civilized. The Bronze Age, where everyone is in ascent, where every man a king, every krugger a rex, and every descendant a Hero, and all live purely in the truest lives. Ride the wave, or be subsumed. Come forth, one and all, for Sulianpoli, The Blessed Cihi Hail Victory! Hail the Bronze Age! Seal of Sulianpoli

"HAIL VICTORY! HERALD THE BRONZE AGE! THAT AGE OF HEROES!" A high elf hero, Pamphilos raises the sacred spear of victory, preparing for the time to come, and the lads who will at last have their polis complete

Pamphilos stood upon the high hill of Sulianpoli, he cast his gaze down to greater krugmenistan that lay flat before them. With a heavy brow, and a chest full of fire, he sighed. "At last, for the time to raise arms was to come, with righteous warriors upon both sides, yet even in the face of the coming pure tides, it seems that the Akaal have yet to see plainly to what had happened. If they has sought to truly fight, to prove their honour, then why is it that they were refused? The Rex would ne deem a goth's dishonorable decision worthy of thought. For truly, to honor himself, he would fight to keep his klans prestige..." The glorious bronze hoplite frowned, turning to his lads, their panoplies polished, cruel spikes sharpened, and wide shields painted. He raised his hands and spoke "Its over lads! Pack it up! For we have taken victory! Raise your torch! Raise your amphorae! For we must salt the land of Krugmenistan with the blessing of purity, so ne impurities may rise!" He lifts his spear of victory, and a vessel of great blessed salt, and he lead the way. For purity must come, and with it, a ladly statement. "Bronze age now! Krugmar Igne'sae!"

RAM RUMBLE Registration MC name: DeepDarkSamurai Wrestling name: Anaxagoras, Master of Serfs Discord: Tyto Can you do a cartwheel? YES!

Standing before the well of purity, the shimmering images upon the surface of their golden waters brought to him the time past, when he and his lads would bask in the light, and hear plainly and speak in dialogue with he. "'Lo those days, when Wretched Gadhm, Highest of goblins, was seen by all as the truest, the purest of all of his kin, and Wisest of philosophers. For though it is that we are high by nature of our ascent, the cleansing waters, then it is also that the most wretched is the highest of Kinul, decay in his name." He gazed out towards the goi spread out before him and he breathed in the scent of war upon the wind "It will be we, the pure, the elevated and sacred. The honorbound and the blessed who stand forth with blades of bronze and silver, who strike down what is unlike the pure highest form. We shall wash over the land, like the flood of the purest river, and that which is washed shall be cleansed. What is uncleansed? May the blessed flames take them, and the strongest emerge reborn, pure, cast in fire. Hail struggle. May we Honour Victory as our ancestors had honoured her in our past. Let us take up glory, and find it ever-ascendant! Never more to fall!" He points his spear which crackled with lightning, and thunder which rumbled. "KRUGMAR IGNESAE"

"HAIL! TRUTH! HA-QARKAH! IT WAS REVEALED! The TRVE DREAM of reality! Of the brothers four! I have a dream that one day down in Krugmenistan with its vicious impures, with its Rex having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, one day right down in Krugmenistan Bronze lads will be able to once more join hands with little uruk boyz and sistas as bruddas. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord of Purity shall be revealed, and all mere flesh shall see it together. Hail victory! Skorkon ugluk! My oldest brudda! For we are on the right side of history! for we may raise our spikes and know truly that we have done NO wrong!" Stands proud Pamphilos, Anax of Sulianpoli the Blessed Cihi

Glorious and beautiful, Pamphilos stood upon the wall of sulianpoli, gazing down into the citystate capital of the Holy Lands. "May the ruinous and may the accursed fall before those of us who would never forget! Who would never abandon their brothers!? Purge impure Akaal and may we recall what it means to have HONOUR! HAIL VICTORY! KRUGMAR IGNE'SAE! May the Ayatollah's Fatwa be fulfilled! May the broddas of krug remember their honour for we have never broken!"

"The river of purity is unending! May the waters burn the flames of the impure, and may those tarnished be drowned, then immolated in the brazen bull!" A pure and beautiful high-priest embroiled in a sacred war across the continent reroutes his forces of pure lads back to the Holy Lands. Only for the season...

THE BRAZEN STATE "This is my wealth: My spear and my shield. With this I trample sweet wine from the vine. With this I am called Master of Serfs. Those who do not choose to have spear and sword, and fine shield of polished bronze to protect them, all cower at my knee and submit. Calling me master and great King" -Words of Anaxagoras, Hero king. Father of many cities These past few years, I have been taken to visit the lands of my old friends. The Noble True-Men, those who live far beyond the walls of the settled men, yet live Pure and Free lives, just as they had been created to do. To dwell below the open sky, and honor the world with the sacrifices they make. Truly a more noble Man has never formed since their inception in brigblaewas, that extreme north. It is because of them, that I have had the time and ability to introspect, to seek and commune with the nature of the blood, of purity, of honour, and nobility. Of brotherhood, and of kinship. All that the Scydri shared with one another, freely. I had witnessed the death and burial of their revered elder, king of Scydri, Abragan Thyrscys in a grand burial mound. Larger than any I had seen, golden treasure, A chariot, Twelve horses, dozens of sheep, and the greatest, whitest cow, I had ever seen, were sacrificed to creation and entombed with the Azukazi Khuzai and his wives. Mournful, were the people, as they sung and wailed and laughed, and drunk much of their fermented horse milk, partaking in the sacred scydrian herb. Soon, all declared their love for their king, the unifier of the steppe, and in the words of his son, the blonde charioteer, the words of adoration, for his greatest father, the doer of things. That only by being in his image, will the son ascend to take the place of the chieftain well. After this, to all, and all who shared, much was known was the love of their brother and uncle, chieftain, and father. Yet it was the night before he perished, and his spirit found undying freedom, that I had my finest meeting. What stuck with me greatly. -Pov you are Pamphilos in Scydria, with the elder Abragan, son and khuzai of the Azukazi Long was that day, many miles, over streams and through deep cut valleys upon that wide steppe. We had finished what we would later learn was his last ride. During the voyage he sung a throatsong, sharing with the sounds of the world, as a sign of his passing. Of how real one can truly be. We fired upon the old gryphon which had descended from the hills, seeking to plunder the herd of wild horses we passed, and seeing the elder and I, mounted upon our steeds, reared. Though i readied my spear for battle, she dared not approach upon seeing our garb, mounts and the beast flew back at the witness of the Scydrian's pointed hat. For they had done the battle many times. He laughed, and so did I. We made it. To the stone of Volgarr. The Cimmerean. So fine was this black stone pillar, rising high above the steppe, atop a hill which laid to it a backdrop of the distant forest on the edge of the horizon. Some other world than this of boundless sky and grass. Yet I saw deep into the soul of the carving, and I knew it was not built by the hands of Cimmereans. The once greatest rival of these pure men. A tribe just as noble. I saw him pour a bag of kumis and press down the sword he had brought for the occassion into the earth. Wetting it with the blood of the lamb we had taken from the camp. -The Khuzai sung songs of the ways of Hyperborean man. The memories of noble cimmeria, sung by who were once their enemies We sat there, by the fire. We ate the meat we shared with the sacrifice. He sung me the song of war, of his people and the struggle with the cimmereans of their past. About how the mammoth hunters stole their cattle, and the horsemen ran them down. About the slaying of the chieftains brother upon the sacred sky mountain, and the vengeance which drove the cimmereans to ruin, scattered to the forests. Through the firelight in the dim darkness of the coming night my eyes caught glimpse of the bronze of the blade, point down at the top of the hill. Still wet with blood. "Durz..." He said rebukingly. I turned to him, to see his gaze, lost in the flame. I asked what it is he was considering, after taking me on such a long trip to such a distant monument? The elder looked over, his stick he waved as he twirled the smoke which rose from the fire into many forms. I watched as the horses and gryphons, the wolves and the eagles, the lions and the stag make war. Yet Still I saw in the eye of the Scydrian, those pools of blue, a world that I could only see in the heights of any maidensong. "What is life... If you regret what you have done..?" He looked up to me, smiling, yet I saw the tear which had first fallen from his eye. We retired shortly to the smoketent he brought and the bundle of scydrian herb. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ -Pamphilos Hyptos arriving from the lands of Scydri, the chieftain's last gifts well received. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Now, I return to the lands where my people dwell, and to my own polis. The site of construction which had been betrayed and forgotten by the reddest skydaemons. It was here, when I turned the gifts of the chief off to the herdorc, an ugluk brudda, I had caught up at last with my dearest friend. The oldest lad of my band. He told to me, with eyes of fire, the state of things. As he gripped from the herd, the weakest of the ewes and lambs, which writhed, bleating in his grip, he spoke of the injustice, the tyranny faced by my lads, and all the urukhiim at the hands of the few and impure. Indeed. For it was not long after my meeting with my oldest lad, did I receive word, that my brother, twin-sun, Atemu-ta had raised a warband, as directed by the will of Purity itself. This force, to march upon the north, and rebuke the scourge that we have made war upon since they first made themselves known. Already was the shrine erected, already was the force armed, and the theurgy done. For this war had been blessed, authority bestowed from the Purest Source. After all, is there nothing more pure than purging the impure? To rid the land of the tainted and unclean? For this, I have given my devotion. So why is it that the kursed klan has raised such a fuss? If our noble lads and the fellow bronzed peoples continue forth to do the will of purity most high, then why is it they falter in doing such? But it is WE, the LADS who march out to bring the cleansing flames of war to our enemies, the enemies of the mortal world. Answer. Where is your courage, buurz ones? Always do I, and by extension, the LADS seek to purge what corrupts, and cleanse the impure. For over a hundred years, Sulianpoli has stood, brilliant, its temples, resplendent. Its lads? Beautiful Honorable, Loyal, pure, and most of all, brothers. Think for even a moment. When has Sulianpoli faltered? When has her lads ever bent before the impure, bent before the lesser or the cursed? When have we refused to take up arms to do battle? When have we refused to offer honor or homage? Who were the broddas we entreat with feasts, and place in the most honorable front ranks when the Call of War is found? Think. For one hundred years, and through great victories we had stood. From wars of Orenium when our silvery lads made war alongside the broddas, when we captured and colonized great swathes of the empire of Men and freed their slaves to instead toil for our blessings? Beer for the fratblarg. Glory for the colony. To the Fall of Elysium, when our finest allies had grown hateful, resentful of the presence of the HolyLand. It was I, who warned the Blood Pharaoh Borok of the mercenary men, and then later the wyrmic dragons who would come to betray our trusts, and it was the cruel spears of OUR hoplites which stood shoulder to shoulder, with our bruddas and the blessed elves and drove the Elysians from the field and from their home. For why did we go out of our way, will full heart to earn great glories and great privilege, if not for the love of our peoples? For it was I who brought about the inception of the first Great Horde, through tip of my own spear did I earn the privilege amongst the tribes of our people. It was we who urged for the second when the next scene of war had come to this land. Let us not forget the myriad of wars and battles we have fought, each one a trophy in itself. For what is there, more beautiful, than to see the perfection of form, to fight and die besides the Lads and Bruddas who love you? To take victory with them. To RAISE them high. So we may all be known as masters, and great kings. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ -Pamphilos after returning, speaking of the philosophy of the news to his oldest, and most loyal Lad _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Tell me, bruddas, urukhiim, lads. Which one of you loves your brothers? Which ones of you would raise your choppa for the honour of brothers who have done the same for you? To raise them high and see them into victory with you at their side? Which of you would sooner see those noble and glorious amongst us crushed? Denegrated, smoked? If so, I must ask you. Why do you hate your truest bruddas? For I see no logic, no argument to this, except one. Vile impurity. A cursed mind. Cruel, greedy motives. Something completely foreign to us, champions of Scorthuz, Kezt, Dazkur, Leyd, Q a r k a h. Purity, Honour, Brotherhood, Strength, Progress. For THESE Greater-Powers, I raise my cruel spear, for THEY do I polish my greaves of gleaming bronze. For THEY I sacrifice the first of my bounty, and the last. So it is in this age that we must see something righteous come to pass. For these are the words of my Lads, to whom I came to, to seek their love after my voyage. And there, my oldest, greatest, most beautiful lads spoke clearly to me, as a cloudless day, it was obvious. A solution so simple. After all Was it not krug, who in the greatest act of true love, killed Horen, sparing him a death in weakness? ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ It is here I shall begin to account for my solution... This is my call-out post. The Rebuking of The Impure. The impure, the darkness, isfet, da buurz, all of these words describe a single type of existence, a single strain of mental anguish of sickening infection which have weaved itself into the nest of the pure and honorable, of the just and beautiful, and I shall count the ways. AKAAL! It is through your left-handed path, that chaos has entered our realm! It is your self-centered perception which has driven all away who may otherwise be cohorts! It is your deeds which have broken and waylaid the natural order of things! For it is by your doing, the realms shudder, and a darkness which hangs over the urukhiim weaves its way into the minds of the honorable! You turn your back upon the descendants and the world so you may bring about a world to come! Hark! And long recall! For what was the punishment of those who brought wrath upon the peoples! What is the fate of those of the dark who fall to the temptations of Ixli! Of Ikuraz! Gadhm'Akaal, my teacher, the greatest philosopher. He would overturn your spelltables, your dark rites, and rebuke you, with stronger words than I now! For this would be only shame and dishonour to see the heights his klan has fallen! You must break your pacts! Banish your evil mojos! Your plots dashed for their cursed nature! MOTSHAM! It is YOU who speaks highly of the age to kum! Of the creation, of the destruction of the ways of things! For given to me by the high-priest of Rahtum-Ra, my dear lad Atemu were the same words I recall you telling me those years past, in the grottos most well. That what the spirits are, is tools to be used, not to be valued or worshipped! that to seek a place over them would suit you well! Tell me MOTSHAM! Did we not slay buurzshomos for less? It is YOU who have neglected the spiritual purity of the horde, so you may place yourself as master of others. For after all, to dare use the serpent men invites isfet, darkness to the realm. When have they NOT betrayed descendant kind. What is too risky? What is too impure? What is too heretical to be used? Is there such thing? The methods of your shamanism, the motivations bring to mind only IMPURITY. You are NOT fit to spiritually lead a Pure People such as the SONS OF KRUG! For this, I REBUKE YOU! VILE IMPURE! KYBAL AKAAL! You, who are known as REX! It was by your words, the people of my brother Atemu-ta had been given succor. YOU had said for them to preach the spirits, to grow and prosper, YOU had had them assimilate with our most ladly band, and YOU had it known that they were blessed and well. It is YOU who has gone back upon this word. It is you who dare banish him, and not for a true crime. For his sista, slain by the predations of the motsham, was repaid in kind. The fall of Sharog is well enough to repay the vile act of trying to enslave a bruddas sistah... For she worshipped the spirit of freedom. The banishment and stripping of status of the pharaoh was the worst you could have done there. Yet this is but only ONE of your tyrantish actions. For what right, and BY what right do you rescind the land of Sulianpoli? For taxes? How can we tax something that the skydaemons could not deliver in a timely way? It was won a dozen times over, over the course of a hundred years. ALWAYS have my lads been loyal, and we had been privileged. Loved, or so thought, and we shared this with our bruddas freely. To be so dwarven as to take back this place, it shows how highly you value HONOR in your heart! To think! You treat the mali'ker with more tact and respect despite them being recently our foes as to issue a warning, than even your own most LOYAL LADS, YOUR OWN NEIGHBOR, A HORDE STATE. If you truly held any pain for the grievance of the mali'kers vassals, you would raid them WITH us. Yet you seek to throw us, to banish a pharaoh and his people, and to take from us, the privileges we have lost beautiful lads to securing? So I tell you now, Kybal Akaal. You must fight for your honour against the challenger... If you want our cihi, then you must do as we had did to first earn it. And take it by the tip of a cruel spear! It is for these reasons, your akaal tyranny, that I REBUKE YOU! CURSED AND TARNISHED As an addendum rebuking, it has come to my attention that some vile rumours were started about me in the blessed and pure silver cihi. I did not bother reading that so-called issue of the gazette, because I took a single look at the writers, and I could tell who would write such filth and not have enough self respect to not post it. The VERY SAME tactless tarnished who would be known from that time, a hundred years ago, for she was made known to me as a hunter of magicians, an assassin who hunts magicians, and particularly slew numbers of beautiful silver elves. It was this impure who was banished from the High-Walled City and cast into the world. There, instead of seeking redemption and a purer path, sough that of hatred and lust for power. The impure path which lead to the worm itself being the subject of her worship and intentions. I ask to my reader, be they from the silver city or not, recall now that time when Princess Ivarielle, nearly given the city by that old cabal, the sorority, strode to the walls of Haelun'or, accompanied by bloodied Fennitians in their holy war, filthy impure valah and mali from old Lurin, and a grouping of tarnished 'aheral. Amongst those who prowled the streets of our occupied city, was Valindra and her co. She sought those who were cornered and alone, to slay. Seeking to murder the most beloved Maheral. It was once more, I, and my BEAUTIFUL LADS! Like Elarhil Sullas the Splendid, Beautiful Valazaer Calith, Edgars an'asul Hero of The High Walled City, The Poet Stelios, and I, myself, along with the other PATRIOTS who beat them back from our isle! Never did we spill blood in our sacred city, and still did she commit of the most filthy of all impure acts. Kinslaying. Remember NOW. How did Valindra return? She awaited for us to migrate, our government to change, twice, a new sohaer from an older time, and for the same Maheral she sought to slay to be gone from the city. Only then was she allowed back, while truer, actually pure folk, still laid banished for things much less than kinslaying and dragonworship, and poor journalism. It is for your rumormongering, murderous ways, and impure soul that I REBUKE YOU! VILE KINSLAYER! MAY YOU ENTER THE PURE WATER AND CATCH FIRE. Hail Lady Justice, who can see to us these are all correct, facts, and entirely true. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________ The Lads getting rowdy hearing Pamphilos Speak ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________ By the facts of the matter, by the love of eternity, by the love of my BROTHERS and my LADS, who have been castigated, punished, and rebuked, you will hear these demands, and by the spirits, they will be met. TO THE REX, THE MOTSHAM, AND KLAN AKAAL For your insults to your bruddas, to the lads, to the spirits, and your and impurity you shall deliver a hecatomb, 100 cattle to be sacrificed at Qarkah's alter, to buy your continued existence from the spirits. You shall return the Pharaoh to his honour, and you will deliver unto his people, a hundred talents (100 items) of salt or silver You shall accept the HONOR DUEL for REXDOM from the GOTH of UGLUK upon shame of COWARDICE (and much more) You will raise a shrine to Hesthor, Spirit of Divine Purity and bovine consort to Qarkah, and you will bathe in it three times until you are cleansed. You have until the date of the UGLUK'S KLOMP to accept these oaths of reparations. There shall be no way to skirt this, for you have chosen to make a poor bed, and you shall lay in it. We are your most loyal bruddas, but like krug before us, we will kill you in your bed for your weakness. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ -The old goths respected a victory taken by the spear of the lads For those bruddas who are true, who recall the real ways, and the ways of our honour and our mighty kleos! Those bruddas who share the love! Who fight shoulder to shoulder, who raise their mug ob grog and shank of beef in great joy. Join bruddas! For THESE are impures! And they must be CLEANSED! Through the waters of golden Scorthuz, or the flames of cruel Qarkah! Rebuke these tyrants! Let the PATRIOTS take charge! STAND WITH UGLUK! For ALL MY LADS! SPREAD THROUGH THE LANDS OF BRAEVOS! Those who read this! This is a Ladly call-to-action! Recall now the OATHS you spoke before your lads, and HONOR itself! Lads help lads, and lads NEVER abandon lads! Come! And raise your club or cruel spike, your shield or pure katana, polish your panoply of armour, and be splendid! Come! Stand by my side, noble lads! Wherever you are! Individual heroes! True champions of our bloodlines! Come and do what your oaths are for! Come and defend your Polis! Hail Sulianpoli! The Blessed Cihi! HAIL LADY VICTORY! HAIL PURITY! _________________________________________________________________________________________________________ -Pamphilos doesnt need to harass the ladies for them to be interested in what he has to say,

A bronzed warrior, returning from time over the sea looks upon the sorry state. The lads, punished unjustly. The brother of his sun banished. And yet, he rallied. Polished helmet with sharpened horns pointing cruelly forward. "The Buurz... You had warned me of such thing since the time of the Blood Pharaoh, mi bruddah... We had kept the oaths, we had kept the ladly vows since the time of the admiral general of the land... And now, these Akaal... They have betrayed the kruggers with their impurity, with their darkness and tyranny. You will have my spear, the spear of the Lady of Victory behind you, my brudda... As I call upon, and summon all the lads..." As he looks upon his oldest, and most beloved Bronze Lad. "Skorkon'Ugluk, my truest brudda... May we remind da bruddas dat ebery ork a rex!"