creamynoteblock

"You copied me." Hajj decided, sending a copy of his original missive to the sender of this one.

ten templillion templar spells

konichi'ug

"Lat'z nub been around in dekadez." Kho, the Wargoth of Clan Gorkil, scribed back. "Who ahm lat tu blah about wagh when latz nevur klomped in azh latzelf? Tu bi zo outraged at ah normal waghtik okkurenze zhows latz foolizhnezz agh inexperienze. Lat ahm relinquizhed uv da name Gorkil, agh if lat take anothur ztep further, mi will konzider lat whitewazh, too." "Alzo, wi nevur made 'em klomp. Dat waz juzt an idea."

Kho'Gorkil, who, in his younger days, was a warchief in the southern badlands of Almaris, nostalgized over the killing of Balianites. He remembered the great Balian Krugsmas Ball, and paid it tribute through this cactus year's Hyspian Krugsmas Ball.

Kho'Gorkil looked around, shocked at the lack of fight the Hyspians put up. Then, immediately afterwards, as prisoners were round up, he was shocked to hear that Haense and the rest of the alliance weren't coming for them. They did not want to fight. He frowned.

"Dere'z never been greatur." Kho'Gorkil proclaimed, a fine cut of pinkie-grub roasting over his fire. "Da zonz uv Krug peep viktory."

Kho'Gorkil, the Wargoth of Jreg's clan, watched in awe as the orc singlehandedly lugged back piles of loot.

"Da way dey'z celebratin', lat'd gruk dat diz iz da greatezt viktory dey've had in yearz!" Kho jested, before checking the statistics of the Kingdom of Norland. "Wayt. ."

I made all of these. Expect a player report.

By a pyre, the Dominus Kho'Gorkil sat, a shaman tending to his wounds acquired through the battle. He reminisced over the charge, his desperate yet infinitely exciting maneuver that lead to greater damage to the coalition than whatever call some short-lived human would make. Old eyes shifted over the young Vinteki orcs that paraded into the land, feeling equally glad at their arrival and envious of young orcs. Once he was mended enough, the Gorkil perused towards the young Rex. "Wub ahm lat grukkin, Grommazh?" "Many urukz will flat in diz wagh." "It'z better dan flattin' from old age." Beneath the night sky, the two orcs laughed - a symbol of agreement.

"Minus.. Eight people. Wow!" Amun, the master of sheet-keeping, noted as he adjusted for Celia'nors exit.

The bell rang, and the warriors of Veletz rallied to the cause! Meanwhile, it seems a Hyspian Knight was shocked at his opponents' fervor. . .

"Don't use the name White Rose if you're not going to be racist." Taamnahkrin the Azdrazi proclaimed.

Beneath the beating desert sun, the Wargoth of the ancient Clan Gorkil, Kho, rode atop his boar - a party of Krughai troops at his back. The loyal warriors of the Horde patrolled the desert, aiming to nip whatever Balianite foothold that might have appeared before it was allowed to fester. The seasoned orc couldn't help but reminisce over his younger days, to his old camp of Un'Satum, where he had fought Balianites in the desert much like he did today.

Toiling in the great heat of a forge, the Dominus of the Iron Horde, Kho'Gorkil, played out the WAGH in his head. The orc hummed to himself, excited not only for the klomping to come, but to live up to the name of KRUG as a brother.