Krugallah

that last redline made me laugh out loud, so for that reason and that reason alone, +1

simply acquire a phone

Frowning, though having approved this, the Wargoth sighs and nods slowly. "It is sad. Very sad that today we lose one of our own. Yet it had to be done. To preserve loyalty and honor. Ang gund griizh, nagijak urukim. The Ragukûr will remain strong."

THE MYRZYMS The Mount of Clan Raguk A Raguk myrzym, in blue warpaint, ready trample over its enemy. Overview Harsh were the desolate plains of Vailor. Harsher still to the Redskins. Whilst Lur had found a companion in their wolves, and the Braduks had found their rhinos, the crimson skinned Uruks had yet to find companions of their own. They looked far and wide, and yet, even in the farthest corners and widest caves, they found nothing. The Wargoth of yore, the powerful Kharak’Raguk, was lost and bereft of ideas and plans. He didn’t know where to look. He didn’t know what to do. And as such, he turned to the last option; praying. Alongside five other redskins, the Wargoth sacrificed a host of animals, including humans, elves and dwarves, in the name of the Blood Mistress, the spirit of Blood and Bone, Gazigash, and requested the Mistress that she made her Blood-Skin children with a worthy mount. While it is unclear whether or not Gazigash truly answered the Wargoth’s prayer, it is a fact that, upon a week’s time, a Raguk scouting party brought back two scrawny elephant-like cubs - though even in their scrawny state, the Raguks could feel the might and grandeur they’d grow into - and grow they did. The first to grow fully, named in honor of the Spirit Leyd, reached fifteen feet in height, and the second to grow fully, named in the honor of the Spirit Gentharuz, reached twelve feet in height. These mighty beasts - male and female - are the progenitors of the lines of Myrzyms passed down from generation to generation of Raguks. Thought to be lost to the Raguks after the quick escape and destruction of Arcas, once more the Redskins found themselves with no mount. Their Lur brethren with their wolves, their Ugluk comrades with the bulls. And once more, did their Wargoth, Leydlûk’Raguk II, resort to the same means the Wargoth of Yore turned to; praying. And much like Kharak in the times of yore, it seemed that, though with no confirmation, the spirits had answered the Redskin’s call, and upon the deserts of the South, two Myrzym cubs were spotted and recovered, much to the jubilation of the Clan. Anatomy & Habitat Myrzyms are enormous, huge mammoth-like creatures that are bred for war. They have large, ivory tusks that stem from their trunks, and similar to Uruks, elder Myrzyms will witness their tusks begin to curl into their skull, unable to chip and polish them due to being unable to partake in combat. An elder Myrzym is a beast of immense honor and reverence; to make it to such an old age implies the elder beast has seen many skirmishes, raids and wars. These mighty beasts can range from ten feet tall to fifteen feet tall on the males, and female Myrzyms range from nine feet tall to thirteen feet tall, and traditionally have shorter tusks, but do not lack the might and ferocity of their male counterparts. Their rugged, battle-ready and almost scale-like skins can range in color, though usually keeping to shades of red, brown, yellow and orange. Due to their massive size, Myrzyms usually cannot go inside of cities properly, but Raguks and Krugmar have, in the past, mounted ballistae and scorpions upon the backs of these massive beasts and utilized them as mobile siege weapons, and with recently Cannons becoming popular, the Raguks have begun experimenting with them as well. Myrzyms are natural to deserts, deep jungles and volcanic landscapes, their incredible resilience and wide palate make it so these beasts are readily adaptable to the environment they are in, though it is known that Myrzyms will not mate and reproduce if they are not in a desert, for their nature and true allegiance is to the sands. Behavior There are few things more dangerous and unpredictable than wild Myrzyms. Though they are usually domesticated and found by Clan Raguk when they are cubs, there is always the waning possibility that some aren’t found, and grow up in the wild. These beasts, when left unchecked and untamed, become apex predators of whatever food chain they are in, usually battling it out with other legendary beasts. While they aren’t directly aggressive, a hungry myrzym will lash out and strike against anything in its immediate surroundings, seeking to feed upon it, or at the very least, quell their natural yearning for confrontation. These beasts are also immensely territorial, and once can see when they’ve walked into a Myrzym’s ‘turf’ or den when they see tusk marks on nearby environments - be it walls, trees, boulders, or carcasses. General Redlines Due to their massive size, both in width and height, Myrzyms cannot be used inside of cities. Myrzyms have an OOC lifespan of ~2 months to 6 months at max. An ‘elder myrzym’ is about 3 months old, whereas a young myrzym is a couple of weeks old. Myrzyms have an internal and natural yearning for confrontation, much like Orcs with their bloodlust, which means that, much like Orcs, they will go either into a frenzy, or deep depression, at the lack of combat. Myrzyms require tons of food to remain in shape, and properly feeding a Myrzym requires roleplay with the creature. Myrzyms cannot and will not reproduce if they are not in a desert. Myrzyms cannot go past the 15 feet threshold of males. Myrzyms are not magical and are not summoned by the Spirits. They are simply wild and rare beasts. Myrzyms are NOT usable in combat. Myrzyms require ST permission to be used during events. Credits Krugmenistan - Writing. Panashea - General inspiration. Old myrzym lore found on the forums.

Wargoth Leydluk'Raguk chuckled. "Maybe if you hadn't allied yourselves to that filthy liars of Fi'Andria, us Raguks could teach you Suticans a thing or two about industry."

@DevoutChorale_I can give you a few lessons on Spiritualism B)

"How unfortunate that the once pure and proud mali'aheral have fallen to such darkness. We'll rid them of it, for them. Ang gund griizh." Wargoth Leydluk'Raguk said, spitting on the ground after.

WARGOTH Leydluk'Raguk ponders if he wants to crash a coronation with good grog and good party...

Present in the forge, WARGOTH LEYDLUK'RAGUK nodded somberly to his companion, also beating his hammer into new creations..

⚙-⚙-⚙ “Gazigash, lat amirz tolbok lâttuk riipuk râg; Gazigash, lat amirz larg lâttuk zultûr khüchtag; Lat breked dâr ob yahk agh grish; Lat ob Leyd iok; Khlaar lâttuk düdlaakish; Ghashkrum lâttuk zalbirok!" ⚙-⚙-⚙ A Raguk yeller, chanting to Gazigash. ⚙-⚙-⚙ We live in a time where deceit, lies, and manipulation are the common weapons of the individual who wishes to be successful in the world. We live in a time where people find it more easy on their mind to declare an entire race to damnation, and insult their entire history, than to acknowledge their own misdeeds and treacherous paths, for it is easier to pin the blame of mistake on another, than to recognise your own. It is natural for ambitious creatures - Descendant or otherwise - to wish that the public has a positive opinion of them. There is not a living thing that can, with a clear mind, deny that they wish to be well-seen. Even I, as I write this missive in reply to the joint decree of the Kingdom of Haense and the Arch-Principality of Celia'nor, hope that people see me in good light, even though deep down, I know that, a lie spoken as often as a truth, becomes one. Whether or not the public chooses to agree this recollection of history and tell of events or not, it is up to the public. I am not the Rex, Dominus or Targoth. I am merely the Wargoth of a Clan, and under REX Willy's administration, it has been made that my power only stretches so far. However, often not quite in line with the ways of my Clan, believe that words and conversation are better than berating each other and throwing silly insults and defamation with little evidence. The Uruks have had many mistakes in the past, and such is undeniable. Perhaps the greatest sin of Urukim has been the Destruction of Vailor, considered by many to be at the hands of REX Kharak'Raguk - the ancestor and founder of my Clan. The one thing that Uruks are quite capable in, is recording and remembering history. We keep annals upon annals, written or mentally recorded, or recovered by our Lutaumans and Farseers, and make sure to keep to our ways, and keep ourselves on honorable and just ways, keeping ourselves to the light. We recall that it was KRUG, our forefather and progenitor, that remained Doubtful of the Betrayer. Never did Krug fall to the Arch-Daemon's allures and entices. While Malin, Horen and Urguan all fell for it - Krug stood valorous. And in his valiant, steeled mind, Krug shed light upon Iblees' betrayal to his brothers, and was the first to charge at the Betrayer in his armies. There are many things us Uruks are known for; warmongering, bloodthirsty, impulsive - but no one, living or dead, can deny the honor and traditions of the Uruks. We keep to our ways. We keep to our principles. We keep to our philosophies. And there is one way, principle and philosophy we do not stray from, no matter what we gain, no matter how much prosperity it brings; we do not pact with the Betrayer, and we do not affiliate with its minions. Rex Willy admitted to his ingenuity and naïveness, to strike a deal with an identity-less creature. A masked Knight. REX Willy invited and admitted further to his misguidance by offering an avenue of communication to the Arch-Princess and her court. REX Willy asked questions. The Urukim have so far waited for answers - and we have gotten none. Ever since the outlawing of Spiritualism and Shamanism in the lands of Celia'nor, it is no secret that the Arch-Princess has gone on a 'crusade' against the Urukim, one quite similar in pettiness and baselessness as the one the former Grand King of Urguan, Bakir Ireheart, went on. I'd like to remind all those reading, that the madness and witch-hunting of Bakir the Crying King, lead to half his population departing his lands, leading to the creation of the honorable Dwarven hold of Khron'Hundmar. Celia'nor is proud to remember its heritage, and its origins as a tent city, from their separation from Haelun'or and what they saw as failed ways. Haelun'or has changed their ways. They have seen their mistakes. Celia'nor lays corrupted - tainted and touched by darkspawn and Xionists. I wonder, then, why it is that the Arch-Princess Valyris Ibarellan has taken upon herself to pick up the slander, deceit and hatred of Bakir the Crying King and make it her own. I wonder if it was because she thought she has a bigger crowd of blind followers to growl to? I wonder if it was because she'd need a way to hide her own dark affiliations? Unfortunately, we may never know. What I do know, however, is that upon the visit that I made, mentioned in the missive of the Arch-Princess, that the Chosen of Qarkah they slaughtered was addressed by the red-devil known as Abdiel. The red-devil addressed the Chosen of Qarkah in a tongue that scratched at the back of my mind, teared at my ears and made my eyes sour. Blackspeech. I do not know it. I do not know its true name. But I'm sure the Arch-Princess knows, for she seemed to not be bothered. Alas, I remiss. Uruks do not work on assumption - we work on action. If it is the wish of the Arch-Principality of Celia'nor and the Empi-, well, Kingdom of Haense to belittle, humiliate and genocide the Urukim race, in a time where we should be uniting against a common enemy, then we, at least Clan Raguk, welcomes the opportunity of VINDICATION once more. We welcome the opportunity of being the odd-one out. The ones who know the truth. Celia'nor gives us the opportunity to, just like our FOREFATHER and FATHER, KRUG, we are given the opportunity to shed LIGHT upon the lies. We are given the opportunity to once more Doubt as our Father did. We are once more given the opportunity to reveal the Betrayer's farse, even more than it already is. We welcome this opportunity, Valyris Ibarellan and Karl Barbanov-Bihar. We welcome the opportunity to once more fight the Betrayer. In the honor of Krug. In the honor of the Uruks. We will persevere. ⚙-⚙-⚙ | ANG GUND GRIIZH | ⚙-⚙-⚙ Signed, WARGOTH LEYDLÛK'RAGUK II, the Second, the Raguktower, the Archivist, Wargoth of Clan Raguk

Wargoth Leydlûk'Raguk II snorts. "A military alliance? Does Celia'nor not realise how one-sided this is?"

WARGOTH LEYDLÛK'RAGUK II tosses the missive aside, pisses on it, and returns to fishing.

⚙-⚙-⚙ " Lok Leyd! Hont dhurburz lattuk egek taka azugh lât ishûr! " A Raguk Yeller, dedicating a battle to Leyd. ⚙-⚙-⚙ Upon its recent return, and with the rise of a new Wargoth, Clan Raguk has been presented with the state of the world, and to the Clan's surprise, it seems that a group of Urukim had decided to splinter themselves from the Horde, in its time of greatest need. While the Redskins of Raguk themselves have considered splintering in the past, it is unnacceptable to see that this group of Urukim have decided they are a complete splinter from the Horde, not claiming any ties to it. How can an Uruk truly call themselves a child of Krug and honorable descendant of his Children, if they do not claim ties or recognise their origins to the Horde? Not only that, but the recent murder of Fire Rex Skaatchnak'Akaal was unacceptable. Regardless if the Urukim claim responsibility to it or not, it is undeniable that Un'Satum's crimes of heresy, betrayal and treason are many. Not only that, but they broke the sacred and ancient Codes of Krug. With all of this in mind, CLAN RAGUK, through the word of WARGOTH LEYDLÛK'RAGUK II, declare A BLOOD FEUD upon WARCHIEF PLANK'DREGORT, WARCHIEF KHO'GORKIL, and the Settlement of Un'Satum. Following are the ways to pay this feud, and put it to an end; An honorable klomp between WARGOTH LEYDLÛK'RAGUK and WARCHIEF PLANK'DREGORT. An honorable klomp between WARGOTH LEYDLÛK'RAGUK and WARCHIEF KHO'GORKIL. The head of the Alchemist that killed Fire Rex SKAATCHNAK'AKAAL. A sum of three-thousand (3000) minas, equal to the one Un'Satum stole from the vaults of the Horde. Two full double-chests of iron, which would accumulate to the sum of 3000 minas, equal to the one Un'Satum stole from the vaults of the Horde. A prisoner, ward or hostage sent to Clan Raguk of significant importance to Un'Satum. These are not demands, and there is no deadline or timeline. Un'Satum may choose to be honorable and accept one of these terms, or they may yet choose further cowardice and hide behind their walls, harassing neighboring nations and cowering behind fetid lies. CLAN RAGUK does not tolerate dishonor. CLAN RAGUK does not tolerate backstabbery. FACE US AS EQUALS, or die in shame. ⚙-⚙-⚙ ANG GUND GRIIZH ⚙-⚙-⚙ Signed, WARGOTH LEYDLÛK'RAGUK II, the Raguktower, the Hat Ork, Wargoth of Clan Raguk.

"Here we go again..." The Wargoth of Clan Raguk murmured to himself upon hearing of the formation of yet another Human inqusition.

A missive is distributed along the Iron Horde, carried by scrawny and underfed red goblins. " To my kranklûkûr, my râgriipuk kranklûkûr, the Naakh-za-Barash calls all of you for this claim and this declaration. My name is Leydluk'Raguk, second of my name. I am the son of the late Wargoth Turkurz'Raguk, second of his name. He is the child of Headstompa'Raguk. My blood, lineage and pride run deep within Clan Raguk. My ties are to clan Raguk and no one, or nothing else. I am râg of skin, râg of mind, râg of spirit. I am guided by the words of the Naakh-za-Barash and nothing else. I was blessed with the qualities of our ancestors by the Naakh-za-Barash. I fight for the Naakh-za-Barash, and I will die for them. My devotion - through all my seventy years of life so far - has been to them. I am young. I am ambitious. I want the Children of Krug, the blessed Envoys and Exalted of the Blood Lady, the Smith Lord, and the Tyrant of Strength, to thrive. As such, in lieu of recent weakness and lack of presence, it has come to my attention that not only has Clan Raguk been mislead in my father's untimely demise, it has fallen to the depths of insignificant. That is unacceptable. WE ARE THE SKAHIN' RAGUKS. WE ARE REDSKINS. THE DESCENDANTS OF KHARAK. LEYDLUK. GIJAAK. TURKURZ. WE PRODUCED THE GREATEST REXES. THE GREATEST WARRIORS. THE MIGHTIEST SMITHS. THE MOST DEVOTED SHAMANS. We are Raguk. And no longer shall we remain silent. With this in mind, heart and soul, I claim that which death took away from my father - not by right of heritage, for such does not exist, and not by right of blood, for such does not exist, but by right of might. If any râgriipuk wishes to challenge me, they may do so within three cactus days, after which, I will assume the remnants of the Clan agree to my leadership. For far long has the Horde have to rely on shoddy smithing and mediocre warriors. We will find the Myrzyms. We will strengthen bloodsteel. We will rebuild our bases. We will be, once more, the mightiest and most honorable Clan the Iron Horde has ever seen. I pledge this to you, and with this here pledge, comes a dilligence and dedication to work and honor. I encourage all Raguks, past and present, to answer this call and support me. We will need like-minded people - but also those that disagree. For when there is arguments and ideas - progress is bred. We will persevere. We will thrive. Ang gund griizh. Lok Leyd. Lok Gentharuz. Lok Gazigash. Khlaar îzk düdlaakizh. "

“Lok Leyd! Hont lâttuk aldatuk; grish lattuk asgarakh u lât ner! Lok Leyd! Hont dhurburz lattuk egek taka azugh lât ishûr! Lok Leyd! Lok Leyd! Udirk lâttuk zultûr agh largrûz lattok nik ukh darg!” A Yeller of the Raguks chanting to Leyd, wishing for strength and perseverance to the Clan. Standing, sweating from the ashlands of the volcanoes, a towering red-skinned figure looked towards the walls of the Uzg. He hadn't been gone long, and after hearing of his brother's misbehaviors and misadventures, as well as the perils that Clan Raguk found itself on, the Uruk decided it was nigh time for unity. With hammer in hand, hat in his head and determination in his stride, as well as carrying the name of one of the mightiest ancestors of Raguk history, Leydluk'Raguk II marched towards San'Velku, ready to reunite his people. Before the pond, he brought a stool up before him, and he cried out to the city; "Lok, râgriipuk! Lok, kranklûk ob Raguk! Kranklûk ob Leyd, Gentharuz agh Gazigash! Kranklûk ob Kharak, Gijaak agh Hazurk! Lok, agh khlaar îzk düdlaakizh! Lattuk muzt unite! Lattuk muzt provok gûg dah Ilzgûl zodat lattuk am dhurburz! Provok lattuk dhurburz! Provok dah Orkz that RAGUKZ am ztill powerful! Lok! Lok! Lok! Heed mi düdlaakish! Heed it, agh reunite! Rally! Reform! Ang gund griizh! Lok Leyd! Lok Gazigazh! Lok Gentharuz! Egek lattuk dhurburz!" Cheered by a few present redskins, the Hat-Wearing Uruk distributed heabutts in greetings to the brothers around, with further invitations sent out to Raguks across Almaris to make their way back to the Horde, not simply due to reuniting; but for Duty, Honor and the Spirits.

this is actually quite nice and original, despite the name being a little goofy, +1

from one eight year old player to another; what keeps you around?

There was no respite in the wastes of souls. There weren't moments of peace. What few the poor, wandering souls could garner, revolved around flashes to their past memories - brief moments of joy that, compared to the ones of wandering agony, seemed little and far off in between them. The mystic's soul had wandered, and wandered, and wandered for what felt like eternity, yet had only been a few years. But even then, in the depths of these wastes, in the height of the mystic's death - he felt the presence. The only thing, the only person, the only sensation that truly brought happiness, light and ease to his life. "I didn't expect you here so soon." Pain struck his being. He was here. He had joined him. They were both here. How? When? Why? Who? The mystic would find out that even as a wandering soul, he could still feel the pang of loss... but he had him here, now. Why did he feel such pain, if his mayilu was returning to him? He felt not his own pain - but the pain of others. Others who sought his death. Others who sought his complete and utter devastation - but others who, in the loss they faced, shared the same pain he did on the day he decided to leave the mortal plane. "I can finally tell you this again..." And despite being just two more in an eternal soulstream, to be judged by the Aengudaemonic forces that controlled existence - they felt different. They were connected. A shared story that wouldn't erase itself so easily. Death wouldn't part them. No. It'd bring them together. Such a morbid realisation, that fell upon the wandering soul of that lively 'ame. But he could tell him again; "... I love you, Alucard."

an individual with the ign 'kitsnuepixie' is expected to be positive to the idea