LaCabra (Soda)

Probably a busty Dark Elf or maybe a Feuruk if there are any.

;)

We're in a bit of an odd patch right now, we are on LotC version 3.5 (a temporary map before version 4.0 hits within the next few weeks). The upcoming map will have a tutorial area, so that should end up clearing away problems like this. :)

Grothmar stands with the loud crowd of Orcs, but his voice does not sound in the chanting. The other Orcs jump around, their minds and bodies bustling with the idea of war. Grothmar does not. He thinks of the brothers he had in the Dom Clan, those he had gone alongside to battle, those who he had raided villages with, those he had klomped with in the Warcamp. War with them is not what he wants, not with those he had called his brethren.

He looks down to the insignia of the Gorkil clan burned into his hand just months before by Thore'Gorkil. Lifting his grief stricken eyes, he looks to see Thore standing beside the Rex Grogmar, and Thore makes eye contact with the young Orc. Thore gives a reassuring nod, and Grothmar returns it. Grothmar raises a fist in the air, and begins to join in the chant. Though he does not wish to go to war with his old brethren, his allegiance lies with his clan, the Gorkils.

Welcome to the server, dude!

Many Orcs of clans such as the Gorkils, Yars, and Lurs sit around a great bonfire in the Warcamp. The fire dances and jumps lively as they tell tales of warriors past. Grothmar of the Gorkil clan eats the roasted leg of some large bird, and listens to the history of the Braduks.

"Da Bradukz be a hozh klan," he whispers to his friend, Malrug'Yar, "agh it lookz az if dey are making a return!"

(Great read, cool to see the origins of some of these clans and how they're intertwined!)

If I type Betelgeuse in the chat 3 times will you automatically log in?

And welcome! Make the most of your time here. :)

I play an Orc now and I don't seem to have a problem with it, and nobody I've RP'd with have complained. Before I became one, though, I thought a lot of the fun came from not knowing what the heck was going on with them. Makes for some sketchy situations! My vote is to keep the blah the way it is.

I put a good deal of RP into healing my Orc, turns out he got cured by several Halflings he was planning to kidnap and feed to a Scaddernack! Before that he tried killing a medic in Alras who he thought had the cure... And before that he caught it by being around nasty Flays. Personally, I thought the plague was pretty fun. I guess it depended on what you decided to make of it. I wouldn't want something like it to happen again soon, but it was fun.

(dang, good work. Attaboy!)

Why the heck not? Sounds great to me! +1

An aching and weary Grothmar hears word of Charles' thesis around the large fire of a warcamp near Dungrimm's Mouth. The night being quite chilly, he shivers. Breathing heavily, a cloud of steam puffs from his mouth and disappears above his head. He holds his hands out near the fire, thinking. After a moment, he speaks in a gruff, sore voice.

"Funny, how those who do not willingly fight for their lands seem to be the ones complaining that wars must end. If it were as simple as this human says, wars could be ended in the blink of an eye. The weak forget what we fight for, the end of the Empire. I cannot and I will not stop fighting until my kind, the mighty Uruks, are no longer hunted by the Oren-men. No human, sitting within the comfort of their own home, can put an end to this. Only the strongest armies can end this. Wars are ended with the stroke of the sword, not the complaints of the weak." (translated to common for easier reading)

He folds his arms, leaves the warmth of the campfire, and climbs into his leather sleeping bag. He sleeps for a few short hours, preparing for the next battle ridden day.

I'll start working on what you said Korvic, I think I've got the main jist of how to do all the overlay stuff. Thanks! :D

On it, thank you Raptor! Shouldn't take too long.

Temp, I should be able to fix that with a blur or just a smoother tool, thanks!

I spent a while learning how to make flags in Photoshop and I managed to make this Orc themed flag.

I know it's not perfect but I'd love some feedback! At some point I could start making flags for other nations/clans, if there is any interest.

I ruin everything. Sorry Baron. :-(

Stop being salty or I'm gonna let everyone know about that naughty little skype call you had with a certain someone.

Bruh, you need to like get off your computer or something until you calm down. It's not healthy dude. Frick man, it's Minecraft.

Crows already descend upon the field of battle as they lay their beady eyes upon the many human corpses scattered across the ground.

The Orc Grothmar marches from the fields of the dead, holding the severed heads of three humans by the hair. Approaching the Rex, Grogmar, he lifts up his gory trophy, smiling with yellow teeth. The Rex smiles, impressed at the presentation, and Grothmar slings the heads over his shoulder and departs from the city. He winds up later at the Cloud Temple, and leaves the heads piked for all to see. Not even the flies bother to pick at the measly heads of the humans, for they smell badly of urine.

Venom, Reborn

Outside the old ruined desert of the Maturzgoi (Krughanistan) the moon shines brightly, casting an iridescent sheen over smooth dunes and tall spiny cacti. A warm wind brushes through the expanses of sand, and great cliffs surround the desert. It is in this area of the desert, a fair distance from the abandoned city, yet not out of sight of it, that an old arena lies.

This arena – more of a pit these days, really – is covered with a thin coat of speckled sand. Pikes with decrepit skulls, remaining from the days where the arena was alive with the battling of Orcs young and old, are dug around the pit, encircling it. A tattered black and red flag, the mark of the Uruks, swings lifelessly in the wind, worn by many hot days and stormy nights. The stairs that once led into the arena are broken down, unclimbable so that nothing may by chance climb down… Or climb out.

The skeletons of many-an-animal, some larger and some smaller, are scattered haphazardly on the floor of the pit. They all are picked clean, either by time, or by something much livelier. In fact, the smell of rot seems to rise from a few half eaten carcasses… Time is not what has killed these animals.

Grothmar sits crosslegged, watching the arena with vigilant eyes. The egg he had discovered within the recesses of a cavern as old as time itself had hatched within the Maturzgoi many moons before, its little hatchling growing under the blazing sun and his watchful care. It had been nearly a year since the hatchling had been born, and Grothmar had not ceased to feed it, care for it, and most importantly ensure that it did not escape from its pit.

As Grothmar watches, a scuttling sound rises from the arena, the creature’s den. Were it not for the shine of the pale moon upon its back, this black beast would not be seen with its armor as hard as steel, its pinchers as strong and sharp as ten blades, and its waving tail holding its strongest power… Venom. The year old hatchling, around the size of a pony, feeds, chewing upon the body of a young war boar. Its pinchers tear off chunks of pink meat, pulling them into the black beast’s open mouth.

Grothmar’s green eyes stare at young Baga (in the old Orcish tongue, it translates to poison) from a distance, he smiles, thinking. A powerful race that was thought to have gone extinct years before had been reborn under his eyes, under his care. The Scaddernack have endured.

Chaq, you nailed the hammer on the head with this one. Attaboy.

I really think war training can be more fun than actual war - when I played a Dwarf, the Legion played something like Capture the Flag on my very first day. The memory of that stands out a heck of a lot more than any battle. It just takes a little time to organize, but RACIAL LEADERS: PUT IN THE EFFOR TO TRAIN YOUR ARMIES! IT CAN BE SO FUN!

Name: Grothmar

Timezone: Pacific

Skype: Nah, I don't use Skype.

Quit being dickheads to each other OOC. I left because you guys couldn't just be cool to your playerbase. There were always Halfling players complaining about other Halfling players, it got old real fast.

This is a videogame, Soda

A videogame that revolves around a community. If the community is garbage, the game becomes garbage. The recent complaints about trolling and stupid behavior should obviously tell us that the game is becoming garbage. I'd expect an entire moderating team to be capable enough to know AND FIX that.

Staff, look at this from an outside view. This war was ended because of terrible OOC behavior (which isn't a new issue, is it?). To prevent further situations like this, it seems like you'll have to fix some of the absolutely ridiculous behaviors of some of our players.

As blunt as this is, you'll need to grow a pair of nuts and draw the line somewhere. Dish out a few bans for trolling, that should start fixing things. We don't respect a staff that is loosey goosey and spineless, we respect authority. This has been repeated many times, maybe this event is the catalyst that can get it in motion.

Moonlight floods down from the canopy of a dense jungle upon a would-be shaman. He lays flat on his stomach, his body clutching tightly to a thick branch of a tree on the edge of the massive jungle. Squinting, he peers at a camp just outside of the jungle and far below the treetops. A fire roars in the camp, many large Orcs sit around it. In the daylight, many of them would have been cutting trees down and building up the defenses of their camp; walls, towers, spikes, and of course huts. However, the night had brought the Orcs into the safety of the walls. 

The shaman watching from the treetops, Grothmar, watched the camp far below with vigilant eyes and a heavy heart. Thoughts began to pour through his head, memories of his dealings with these Orcs...

-lll-

It had not been long since he had met Zruk, Grukar, Olrug, and Glumpuz, all of which were Orcs that lived within the Warcamp near the Temple-lands. Together, they and Grothmar had traveled to the old ruins of Krughanistan - now called the Maturzgoi, or Dead City - Grothmar in search of wisdom from the Spirits, and the other Orcs in search of land to call their own. A curse had riddled the Maturzgoi, anger from the storm spirit Neizdark. Storms ravaged the city nightly, and they would not leave... Together, Grothmar, Zruk, Grukar, Olrug, and Glumpuz performed the hunt and sacrifice of a mighty war boar to appease Neizdark, in which they succeeded. The storms passed.

Zruk, knowing that the land was now free from the curse, decided that it would be perfect now to build a camp for his brethren. He and his followers created a new clan, the Balrugs, and pitched several tents within the city of Maturzgoi... However, it did not last long.

After some heavy altercations between a few of the traditional Warcamp Orcs and the Balrugs, an angry Thore'Gorkil marched to the Maturzgoi and beheaded one of the Balrugs. Cursing the Warcamp Orcs, the Balrugs vowed to put an end to those that were not of their clan. They were soon after exiled and left the deserts to find refuge elsewhere.

-III-

Grothmar climbs from the tree, after having analyzed as much of the camp as he could notice. The Balrugs had grown in numbers considerably, they had heavily fortified their walls, and it looked as if they had captured and trained many war boars to fight. A war with them would be costly, but a war with them would be necessary...

After many moons, Grothmar returns to the Warcamp and reports his findings. A crowd of Orcs huddles around him as they hear of their enemy, the Balrugs. Soon after, a drum sounds, beckoning the Warcamp to prepare for a war.

THUMP-THUMP-thump-THUMP-THUMP-thump

Several Orcs head to their huts and begin to strike hammers on anvils, creating swords and weapons for the oncoming war. 

THUMP-THUMP-thump-THUMP-THUMP-thump

Many of the Orcs gather up heavy bags of food, while some fight together in training. The Warcamp is alive and breathing, preparing for a clan war with the Balrugs.

THUMP-THUMP-thump-THUMP-THUMP-thump

War is coming.