Plummius_

THE GATHERING OF LAK For too long, the Uruk of Lak have been scattered. Since the last coop of the swamps in the land of Aevos, Lak has been wounded as a clan. Many Swampgoths have risen, and many have fallen. Until the last among them betrayed Laklul and fell as a Buurz, broken and forgotten. Now I call upon you, Laks, and all faithful followers of Laklul. Join us in the Horde. Together we will build a new swamp within the Deadlands. There we shall pray to the Great Spirit of Laklul, and from rot and ruin we will rise again. The clan must be reforged. The swamp must return. LUP’LAKLUL. Blufrug’Lak Brakaz’lak Grunfrug’lak

The lak would look at the missive sitting atop a frog statue with a sigh he smiled "finaly" - "ah krughai branch mi can join"

akul stuck her spear on the ground in rythem "wi zhuld pripare fur WAGHHH"

Looks epic as heck, but mayhaps more enchanted areas? It's mostly forests? Unless you don't tell us everything. Tell us everything.

Imagine being a new player diving into some spooky stuff and this thing shows up.

I'll be honest it's okay that it's written good but I don't think the idea of merging necromancers with mystics is a good idea because in this rewrite necros basically lose all their actual power and just convert to ghost busting.. Thats gonna extinct the magic and well loses the meaning of being a necromancer. I want to wear a black shirt with a skull on it.

Please bring travel carts again. Also cool wyoming terrain

The desert’s sands move [New lesser spirit + pact] Rα'αɾႦσɠ Spirit of the sands The deserts of Aevos are truly unforgiving, walking among the dunes are a challenge for any of the living, the two shamans walked in hope of finding Ramakhet, spirit of the desert. They kept walking, their feet burning on the hot sands, their muscles failing as they urged for water; the two returned with yet another fail to their sanctuary. As they settled in, sitting on the cold floor covered by an old roof that provided shelter from the scorching heat writing yet another chapter of their searching. The sandweaver, disappointed, spoke “let us spirit walk, ask him for guidance” - “maybe he will answer” the prophet Sandsworn nodded with a sigh, hopeless himself he agreed to try and thus they began. The two shamans took a moment to connect with the spirit, mists seeping from their golden armor as their souls were sucked into the realm of what they thought was Ramakhet, looking around the plane was filled with endless sand dunes and not a plant or a living creature in sight. Looking up they saw no sun yet the heat was present, they looked below and saw no shadow. Not before long the two felt the sand rumbling, their feet sinking into it ever so slightly with every move. As for the dunes they began to move around, piles of sand flying everywhere as the windless plane carried no grain, the feeling was heavy, something was about to happen. The sandsword worried looked at her leader and life-mate her voice bore no echo in this realm “now what..” her tone lowered, the sandworn sprung to action yelling to the spirit, his mouth marked with the blessing of the desert “We are of the desert, our people abandoned you, we come to seek your help! We come to seek the spirits of the desert!” the dunes rumbled about as one larger than the other was seen in the distance “there!” the sandweaver called out, pointing at the huge pile of sand hurtling towards them. The prophet fell on his knees repeating his plea “We come for the spirit! We come to speak!” the dunes now quirt in an instant, not a grain of sand dared move as the spirit listened, a voice could be heard from below speaking in old blah “I am the spirit of the sand itself, the very shifting dunes of the desert, I am its core and its shaper.” The two shamans, surprised at the response, began to say “we seek your help, we are your voice, ramakhet’s voice!” the spirit took a moment to think before it answered “why should i help you? You are after my greater.” they nodded, the sand rumbling with each piercing word Ra’arbog spoke. “Our people banned the spirits, we do not agree to it, we are your conduit, your will!” the prophet said with determination in his eyes, the sandwaver dared not speak now “hmm? You are a son of the desert are you not?” the spirit perked his question, non dared before walking in his realm. The two shamans did not have enough time to answer before the dunes began to shift again, moving them with a swift motion across the plane long from where they started. Before them now were three anomalies that seemed like choices, the two looked at each other before gazing at the sight confused. In Front of them there was an oasis, full of life fauna and flora. Shades from palm trees aiding the creatures that reside there. To their left stood a man who seemed like a warrior, wielding a sword that seemed worn from countless battles, his armor was shining gold and trimmed with leather. And on their right a rather sad sight, a small fennec fox dying on the scorching sands, grasping for help. Without a second thought the Sandweaver walked towards the dying fennec, she leaned over it trying to shade what she could, with a sad tone she turned to the sandsworn “i wish i could do more to help him, heal him..” looking forward she saw many more, saddened she wished to stay with the critter not leaving his side to die alone. The sandsworn walked towards the oasis, he observed the life around with a careful eye, trying to take some of the water to help the warrior and the fennec yet to no avail, the water stood still. “I'm sorry” he said, looking around looking for a solution. The spirit had many thoughts ‘why did he go to the oasis, does he wish to hide from the truth of the desert?’ its thought changed as he sought to help the man and the fox, looking now at the sandweaver he spoke up with a pleased tone “you sister, see the life of the desert, seek community in this harsh reality” Ra’arbog then turned his attention to the sandsworn “you brother, seek to lead and preach of the truth of this reality.” the dune then uncovered, a giant Scarab beetle was standing in front of the two, a golden sun on the back of his shell and the marking of the sands on his legs. “You have proven yourselves to me, go! Preach the truth of the desert, you are now my champions” as he touched each of them upon their head a shining glow of gold came onto them as their souls were pushed into their mortal bodies. Sealing the pact.

MC Name: Firemonk_ (plummius's alt) Discord: Plummius Image: Description of Image: A burning skull on a gray banner with purple elements and writing of "Black sepulchre". on th sides there are 2 more much smaller banners that have the script "Khorvad's chosen" with the same colors as the big one Dimensions: the big part 2 wide 3 long and the small banners 2 tall 1 wide

The ghoul looked annoyed at the kid now, yet not saying much he'd just sigh. "wub a poor kid"

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓻𝓪𝓶 𝙈𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝘽𝙤𝙧, 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙄𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙣. 𝙈𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙔𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙄𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙖𝙢 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙪 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙. 𝘼𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧𝙨 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨'𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨, 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙞 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙣-𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝘽𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙄𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙣! I promise all dweds under my banner, I will lead with honor! I will lead with justice and we will be one with Urguan again! 𝙆𝙝𝙧𝙪𝙢 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝙮𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙠𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙢 𝙆𝙝𝙧𝙪𝙢 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙙𝙬𝙚𝙙 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙

AGY GOT FIRED FROM LOTC??

[!] The young uruk would look at the missive with otter confusion "wub dah zkah doz he want? He needs zhomoz?" Trying to read the text again to understand anything "why he did nub zay why he needz ah horde ob zhomoz In dah mizzive..? Zkahin weirdo." She sighed taking a moment to think now.. She'd take a note and write to Thalandir "where ahm latz, mi ken kome"

Bobr

EXTREMLY COOL +1 +1 +1