Pharoahdabz_yt

wow

IGN: Pharoahdabz_yt NAME: Rorislav Othaman AFFILIATION: Empire

aura

Off in the distant cold, where the winds whistled and snow as the Othman, a child too torn tween' his Othaman lineage a 'hound' of the Othaman family lingered within the shivering snow. "So cold..." The child spoke as too did he ponder his cause in life; would he follow in the path of his family? the path that had gained the title of hounds or would he walk upon his own path. Rorislav Othaman's father Ivan, the current head of the family had his influences on the child's mind seeing his father a strong man who fought against the urukhim who warred the empire he wanted to take after his father wielding his blade honed with a fine edge made to fight against the ilk who mean ill upon the empire, but his own wants too did sway on him as his own mind, a curious mind lingered within the mortal plane he asked perhaps too much, but none the less he wanted to know. "I wonder..." The words echoed in the youngling's head, as he thought as he wandered down a different path a path of not just, but also a path of curiously as he asked, and asked attempting to figure out his cause in the world, and his place perhaps too similar to the situation of the princess that lingered.

[ Aᴘᴏᴘᴛᴏꜱɪꜱ ] ʙᴜɢ || ᴢᴇᴛꜱᴜ || ᴜᴋʀᴀᴍᴢᴏ || ᴍᴏʀ’ᴍᴀᴛᴜᴍ ✦•━•⊰✼⊱•━•✦ ✦•━•⊰✼⊱•━•✦ ɢᴇɴᴇꜱɪꜱ He was born, as any orc on an island known for naught but war was- from the ripe young age of ten he was sent to fight, wielding a spear along his father, he killed many in his early days. His sanity, nevertheless, was ruined from this havoc- perhaps life itself just wanted him to die from birth. During these wars he saw much of life's hardships, his mother was taken captive and hung by her throat, the noose left too loose to choke her to death, yet cruelly too tight to let her escape. She starved to death, as do all captives. His father fought relentlessly, day and night till he was torn apart by spears, attacked and battered till he was naught but a corpse with holes, as do all warriors. ᴍɪᴅʀᴇɪɢɴ His time spent on Aevos was his longest, and perhaps his fullest- he came full of dreams to make himself anew, he wished to become a simple shaman, to heal the world of its wounds to seal what evil there was... a pipe, short-lived dream. On his first year in Aevos- his first year out of war- at the gates of the silvered-white city of Celia’nor he met was beckoned by the warlock-vampire- one who would ruin his life. “Feast from my blood,” it coaxed; a threat that didn’t need to be said, for two bloodied hounds lay in wait to maul the uruk if he obeyed not- and thus the insanity began oncemore. With that sip began the terror of his life- for he no longer understood anything, not even himself. He suffered in this endless abyss of trying to find his way up, and soon- plop did it go as his teacher left him askew, left him to bind with a meagre spirit of I̷̯̦̎̔͂̓n̵̡̳̣̎̽̈́̽͋̽͛s̷̪̖͚͉̦̍͗͢͜͝a̢̞̠͕̘̤͒ͅ͏̥́n̴̨̗͙͏̢̃͏͉̉͜i͖̻̐̔͑̾̕t̢̙͉͖̾̊͆y̨̡̬̥̯̥̾̾͐̕͟’s domain- a mistake that would cause him to go insane. A mistake that would cause him to bend the knee to the red monarch that controlled the cursed forest- Gashadokuro- and thus Mizaru was born. Mizaru, an uruk born from Bug’s insanity, was a vile man; he fought alongside the Red Lich as naught but a hunk of muscle that benefited Gashadokuro to have around as a punitive pawn- yet he was content with this life, for soon he got many a thing in serving the Red Lich from knowledge, to wisdom... yet what does that amount to now? ʟᴇɢᴀᴄʏ Bug’s feats were few, and far apart; his first feat was his attaining of Sangomancy- he worked hard in his studies understanding vampyrism as much as he could, and he used it as much as his body willed it- yet alas, eventually it too clouded his judgment it blinded him from realising that why he died, was his own fault. His next was summoning a kraken from the bowels of another realm; at the gates of Celia’nor it wrought havoc, and within havoc did it wring forth war. Many had died that day; that day was Bug’s pride and joy, for it was his first summoning ritual- it ever-was a rush of adrenaline. His final feat, perhaps the worst mistake of his life- selling his soul to the High Hells, it was a gamble that he was willing to take placing his soul on the poker table we know as the depths of Moz’strimoza. ᴇᴘɪʟᴏɢᴜᴇ He fell for a stupid trap, one he knew he was walking into; he and his greedy nature led him to plead with kings to make him one to grant him apotheosis, and that got him naught but a gruelling, slow death in which he tore himself apart. Rejecting the terms of the twisted emperors before him, he tugged unto his own genus- rupturing his body apart as he fell within the High Hells- on his own terms. ✦•━•⊰✼⊱•━•✦ Tʜᴇ Lᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ A letter found itself within the world somewhere. It flitted to and fro, shifting from hand to hand- perhaps amongst those who had known a certain warlock within life. Those who gleaned sight upon it found it read as follows: To whom this may find: This letter marks my death; be it Bug, Zetsu, Ukramzo, Mor’matum whatever name one would have known me by matters not, but I wish to apologise for the havoc- I have caused not nearly enough. **** YOU ALL.

I have mostly no issue with this but if it's going to be a permenant disconnection I belive it may be wise to make it harder to do the ritual such as having a prerequisite like with djinn needing to break one of the rules they have in place in order to be removed from being a djinn, but this enables someone to connect to the magic and go around and try run naztherack and remove as many people as possible from It ruining the fun for anyone who dosent want to be or isn't a zar'akaal but this at the end of the day is just an opinion

People of Aveos, there is a great threat that has appeared in the ruins of the Hexicanium, and the large pillar where those who die rise as undead, a legion is marching towards major population centers, adventurers we ask you intervene. The note was written with haste, and many copies were pinned in major population centres across the continent within taverns, on city walls and perhaps were even handed out by men who stood in cities now that you've had a moment to think of it... who wrote this note?

"oh hell." spoke the uruk sharpening his blade in preperarion for wars that may be to come.

IGN: Benvader1234 Discord: benvader_darthvader Full Name: Clarice auclair Age: 32 Adress: Solevento Position Running For: Garmont Assembly

An ancient man speaks out, "Peace long last .. for now."

I never knew dragons had genders thought they were azdrazi who were turned into dragons by azdrmoth

cool concept, but I feel like it needs more scyphodants are under used imo

oh no kani too

when are we gonna get a cat that transforms into a house tho