Ugroth the Dunewalker

*strides passed the gathering of orcs pissing and bleeding all over the sign. He barely even glances at them*

Very good. I could easily see the scene unfolding before me. ))

:) ))

I always love reading your stories.))

*Ugroth glances down into the pit and narrows his eyes. With a grunt and a puff of sand, he jumps the bars and drops into the arena, stepping forward to read the note. He nods shortly and leaves it there, moving to the wall to climb out again.* "Gug'ye bruddah."

Krug's Trials Orcs of all sizes tackle various different challanges. They are awarded a point at the end of each game won, and the orc/team at the end of the event with the most points are given a title and a weapon blessed by the Warlord (enchanted?). Challange ideas (If a team game,teams choose one orc to represent them in each of the different challanges.): -Archery (Accuracy over long distances. Moving targets and still targets). -Bare-fist fighting. -Agility: Jumping on top of fence posts/doors. -Climbing: Ladder puzzles. -Word games: Riddles (Not many of these). -Survival: Running trap gauntlets. Team-specific ideas: -'Playground'. Two/three to a team. Have to work together to get one orc to the top of the course to 'ring the bell'. (Inspired by the training playground for the young Spartans (Halo Universe)). -Team battles (Of course). -'Observation'. One orc is dumped at one end of a long corridor. He must get to the other end, blindfolded. The corridor is rigged with traps. Two team-mates watch from either side of the corridor (Up above) and guide him through it. The blindfolded orc MUST follow his team-mates instructions to the letter. (Even though you can see the course OOCly, your orc can't ICly. Any cheating and the team will be disqualified and beaten for their actions.)

The Kook-ee Snachur A long time ago ther liv'd too bub'hosh orkz in a hut in the desurt. A fat wun and a skinee wun. The skinee wun wood kook kookeez that orkz frum milez arownd wood kom to tast. Her name wuz Hugnug. The fat wun wood eet a kookee frum evur-ee bach to make suur they wer pur-fekt. His name wuz Dugnug. Wun day the bake-urz made a bach uv bachiz that wer pur-fekt in evur-ee dee-tail. Hapee with ther work, they went to sleep urlee. That nite a gree-dee kub sneek'd in to the bake-ur-ee. He went in to the bub'hosh pant-ree, and grinn'd. He ate and ate and ate until AWL the kookeez wer gon. Hun'-dredz of them and even the bach of bachiz the bake-urz had kook'd that aftur-noon. But the gree-dee ork ate too much! He had gottid fat frum awl the kookeez and nuw he kood nub moov! He riggul'd and skwirm'd but nub mattur how hard he tri'd, he kood nub get anee klose-ur to the daw! So he sat in the dark and waitit, kold and terree-fi'd. Wen the bake-urz fowndid the fat gree-dee kub they wuz angree! Dugnug pikid him up and drag'd him in to the kichin. They kuttid off his hed so he kood see wut wuz happen-eeng to him. He wach'd as the bake-urz kook'd HIM in to a bach of bachiz in ther big ovens. Wunz they wuz dun, they made his hed in to a flowur-pot. Nub gree-dee kub evur stole frum them agin. Moor-al: Nub steel or lat be turn'd into kookeez and flowur-potz. *If Opal went into Ugroth's room she would spy a pile of paper on his crafting desk. They had strange runes all over them, and this is the only one written in plain orcish. Perhaps when he gets back Opal could ask him to translate the others?*

You deserve it!

My only memory of Alras was when I got lost when I first joined.. This still brought a tear to my eye.

Where is the forum for completed bans?))

:) Good to read your writing again, you really are talented Opal. I agree with Char, orcs have become too devoid of personality. You're adding a twist to the race that it seems to need.))

Amazing.

The Ban Report has disappeared. Unfortunately I wasn't paying enough attention to notice whether they got rid of it because of insufficient evidence, or becuase they dealth with him.))

Ban report is up. Sorry about the double post.))

Hmm, alright. I'll post a ban. I want you to give your say on it too, though. As I know our livestock has been disappearing for a while.))

I don't know if I have enough evidence. I didn't actually get screen shots of him killing the sheep.))

A pink orc was hanging around the farm. Previously I had bred a few sheep and there were seven of them. I put the wool away, and came back. There was then only one sheep. I got suspicious at that point and pretended to go away. I watched from a distance as the orc killed the remaining sheep. When I ran up to him to confront him, he built himself up on a pillar of wool or something, then jumped off to kill himself. I didn't manage to get screenies of the kill, but I got a few of him commiting suicide. He had brown and white wool on his corpse. Those two colours were the only sheep that were left in the pen. His MC name was xredal. His character's name was solak. I believe he killed all our livestock, as there were almost no animals when I logged on. I cannot prove this, but I suggest a thorough investigation of this person. Screenies:

*Ugroth pauses at the sound of the roar, and blinks at the explosion of fire. He continues to stare at the wall before shrugging and turning back to his crafting tables, picking up the knife and going back to carving the wooden planks in front of him.*

Sounds interesting. A pity Ugroth isn't a spellcaster/shaman. Regarding the display name changes: Thank god! I can tell who i'm talking to now! Vaq, you and your team are gods among men.

Ugroth work if lat need extra pair of handz. Juz' point me at da treez dat need choppin'. Me nub neeb pay. Me wurk fer da Waruzg.

A note is pinned up next to the pillar of sand. The saplings have been replanted. The signs Bog had put up have been pissed on, and the writing is now illegible. The note reads as follows: Skah uff Bog. Diz farm be bubhosh help ta da Warnation. It been 'eer a long time, uz unli juz rezentli put sand in between da treez zo dat runtz nub replant dem in da rong plazez. ((In short, don't grief the farm because you're angry about your animals being killed. It was always there. We didn't 'grief your desert' we simply reorganised what was already there (replaced some dirt with sand, and flattened the area a bit) so that people planted the saplings in the right place. If Bog had IC reasons, or was told to do this, go ahead and correct me, but if not, this is not acceptable. RPly, the sand was thrown over the dirt as a marker, and the layer of sand is only an inch and a half thick. The bare patches are where the saplings are supposed to be planted. There is good soil beneath the sand. Talk to us first before randomly destroying the farm. I'm just glad you had the decency to leave the saplings in a chest. When I get up tomorrow, I want this to be worked out ICly and OOCly, because Ugroth literally pours himself into those trees. He spends hours chopping them down and replanting them, and making sure the soil is fertile (he mixes blood, water, and dead foliage into the soil every night, but not during peak time, as i'm an Aussie.). And he is furious.))

*Ugroth nods approvingly.*

Ugroth sat beneath the farming hut, surrounded by sand. A golden axe resting across his lap. He stared at his reflection in the brilliant metal, one hand reaching down to touch the familiar roughness of the sand. Deep in thought. An orc clad in diamond armour had come to him while he laboured in the orchard. Chopping down and replanting the Birch trees. He had taken him into the Krughai barracks, to Craotor. Into a room with six benches. Each with an item atop them. He stared at them. Every one of them had a weight to them. A rightness that he could feel in his bones. The first was a golden axe, simple and sharp. The second was an iron sword, thin and seeming to hum with potential. The third was a mask of metal, carved into a jeering face. The fourth was a wolf's skull. Dry and clean. It seemed to stare at him. The fifth was an arm. Large and sturdy and crafted from iron. It stood out, each plate fitting perfectly with the others. His eyes lingered upon this before moving onto the last item. A whip made of tightly wound leather, coiled and carefully set upon the center of the table. His eyes swept over them all once again before resting upon the arm. It was perfect. Dully he realised that Craotor had been talking. He dragged his gaze away from the arm to look at him. "Wij of dese itemz attractz lat?" He nodded to him, in a daze, and looked back at the items. He wandered amongst them, feeling their presence. To him, they seemed almost alive. So much history pressed into so small an item.. Eventually, he stopped by the iron arm again. Everything about it felt so.. right. He heard the two whispering behind them, but paid no heed. "Da arm kallz tu him." Craotor had muttered to the diamond-clad orc. "Indeed." Ugroth reached out slowly and rested a hand on the table, longing to touch the iron arm. He glanced back at Craotor questioningly. "Lat hav made lat desishun?" He gave a slight nod, still unable to speak, or even think clearly. Craotor took in a deep breath and bellowed, his voice ringing out across Krugmar. Ugroth turned his head away and looked back at the arm, Craotor's voice barely penetrating the fluff that clogged his mind. He watched the arm until Craotor carefully retrieved the items. As the arm disappeared into his pack, it was as if a spell had been broken. The world came back into focus, and his thoughts began to clear. He blinked and looked up at Craotor, who tossed an axe to him. "Lat am a Lur. Diz am latz now." Ugroth caught the axe instinctively, and looked down at it. It was golden. "Craotor goin' ta scout." He nodded to him, staring at the axe. He had wandered aimlessly, eventually arriving back at the farm. Still dazed, he had climbed down the hatch and sat down in the sand. A lur? A descendant of The Arm? Ugroth sat and thought, staring at the axe, for hours. Unmoving.