HappyShackles

Reksam'Kog stands quietly at the top of the Rex's plateau in the bustling Orcish city of San'Vitar. As the goblins and orcs trade, joke, eat and fight below, only one thing is on his mind; the swirling sand of war. Or rather, it would have been, if peace had not been achieved. The Rex nods to Ural'Kog to his left, who nods once and raises a giant wooden mallet, booming it against the colossal Orcish wardrum. Minutes go by as he does this, calling the Orcs to gather at the foot of the plateau. The Rex grins to his brothers and speaks. "Bruddahz! Ziztuhz! Wi hab fownd peez wid da Azug'z!" Mutters of confusion mixed with a few solitary cheers cascade across the audience like a quiet thunderstorm. Reksam sighs, crossing his arms as Ural smashes the drum once more, beckoning the rabble to silence themselves; and they did so. "Deze am da termz ub peez! Azh; Da Azog'z muzt bi kleanz'd ub deir wytewazh weyz, agh ripent fer furzeykin' Krug! Dub; Aftuh da Azog'z ripent, Urik'Azog am tu bi mayd Targoff ub da Krughai. Gahk; Da Warnazhun am tu rimayn nuutrul en da impendin' war bitween Aeztuhwuld agh Uren. Futh; Da Warnazhum am tu keep hozh rilazhunz wid da ztowtz ub Urguan." The orcs murmur quietly before Reksam smiles. The peace was not all he wanted, but it was the best they could get, and a far better option than a prolonged, devastating war. "Diz dey wi gruk wub id am tu trulee bi Uruk. Da bluudluzt Ibleez gibz uz... Am id wub maykez uz whu wi am? Nub, bruddahz. Da bluudluzt am azh kurz; nub azh kummand."

You're just sad they didn't die with you

The Rex approves of the above stated as permanent laws of the Rexdom with the following changes. 1) Outsiders are to be directed to the Trog, not killed. 2) Slaves are an exception to theses laws; to harm another orc's slave is to violate the Laws of the Rexdom. 3) The Rex has the right to create exceptions to any of these laws at any time, as needed. 4) Orcs may take any trespassers as slaves if they so like.

The Rex mutters quietly to himself on his crude throne. "Deir am nuw zhomoz en da maykin'..."

Somewhere in San'Vitar, an orc or two are sad.

Brilliantly done, will certainly prove useful for future archivists and to help Orcs and others to keep up with what's going on in the Uzg.

"Rekzam." The sands of Krugmar held no ground anymore. Only the dreary savannah, quiet all but the battering of the summer winds, was the home off the green-skinned, ugly folk whom had struggled so hard in this new land to stay alive, to not die out. Perhaps it was without their sands that they had faltered; but a true orc would know better. "Rekzam!" The night began to settle slowly, twilight overtaking the orcish city. San'Vitar had grown more lively as of late, yet still the threat of the Azog rebellion was fresh in the minds of every Orc; they were prepared, no doubt. "REKZAM!" The young Rex jolted from his daydream, standing atop the battlements of the Rex's Plateau. Leaning on his battleax, he turns his head slowly to see a brother of his clan, Fagor'Kog, standing there, waiting. "Rex, dey am waytin'..." Reksam nods, raising his battleax and hefting it onto his shoulder, following Fagor slowly to the massive tent at the corner of the plateau. Wun'Kog, a towering creature with a tendency for consuming boulders, stands at the edge of the crowd of Orcs, Ologs and Goblins congregated before the Rex's tent, along with Kryllaal'Kog and Zhol'Lur; his Keshig guards. The three of them enter the fray before the Rex, making room for him to pass through the tightly packed congregation. "Mayk ruum fer da Rex!" As he enters the tent, he finds standing beside the Rex's dull, earthly throne the Orcish leaders whom had placed their faith in him, despite his young age. Grool Gorkil'Azog, Yazgurten and Wargoth of Clan Gorkil, with his young cub Drool at his heel, stood beside the High Shaman, Brunhyldir, to the left of the throne. On the right side Fagor'Kog approached and took his place, Targoth of the Krughai, beside Frumzum'Lur, Wargoth of Clan Lur and Huntzgoth of the Uzg. The Rex stood before his council before turning slowly to the tightly packed crowd, sweating in the heat of the late day's sun. The stench was unbearable; for any other than the resilient green skinned warrior-people. Reksam raised his hand slowly to the rabble, and shouts turned slowly to murmurs. "Throm'ka, bruddahz," Reksam begins. "Mi hab azk'd lat tu bi heer, zu mi kud blah tu latz zum impurtunt tingz abowd da Uzg... Mi am zhure latz awl hab kweschunz..." "Wen wi gunna flat da Azog'z!" He hears Sharlog shout from the center of the crowd. "Wi gunna eet deir zkullz!" Cry Mugzlaak and Ttarmek, two very hungry Ologs. "Datz mi popo!" Cries out Akran, a confused little cub. Reksam lets a quiet grin creep across his face as he stands before the throne. They wanted blood. This was good; they would fight hard to defend their home and their right to live in it without the oppression of the Rusk'Dom or Snoop'Azog. He raised his hand one again, and the shouting ceased, returning to murmurs once more. "Mi am latz Rex... Rekzam'Kog. Mi klan am nuw. Mi fayz am azh nuw fayz tu da Uzg. Mi am yung. Bub mi promizz latz, mi am diturmin'd to mayk da Uzg bub'hozh agen. Da Azog'z wub strigz... Zu wi gib dem strigz. Dey hab defy'd Krug, da zpiridz, agh dey hab defy'd deir anchunt tradizhunz. Dey zeek tu mayk 'Kruganiztan'. Wub da ZKAH am 'Kruganiztan'. Diz nub am huw wi wunz wuz, diz am huw wi wuz mayd tu bi! Nub. Wi am nub Kruganiztan, wi am nub azh 'Kunfedurazhun ub Klanz'. Diz am Krug'z layund, diz am Krug'z peepul. Frum nuw un, wi am nub lunger juzt 'da Strigz Uzg'. Frum nuw en, wi am whu wi wub ment tu bi; da Strigz Uzg ub Krugmar!" Reksam pounds his fist on his chest, listening to grunts of approval from the crowd. Finally the Warnation would be once again what it was; Krug's land, both in spirit and in name. "Bub dat iz unlee da beginnin' bruddahz..." Reksam continues. "Wi am wurriurz, prowd agh ztronk, agh wi hab da bluudluzt ub Ibleez; bub latz muzt undahztand diz nub am awl id iz tu bi azh Uruk! "Wi muzt luuk tu da zpiridz, bruddahz! Gu tu da totumz en Krugmar agh San'Vitar. Zacrifyz tu da zpiridz latz niid da favur ub. Ib latz kropz am nub'hozh, gu tu da zpirid ub Rayn. Ib latz am guin awn azh hunt, latz gu to da zpirid ub da hunt. Wi muzt reveer da zpiridz, bruddahz, fer mi gruk wi hab luzt deir favur, agh wi muzt regayn id." Brunhyldir, the high shaman to the Rex's side, slowly nods during the speech, approaching the firepit in the center of the tent which was slowly becoming their only source of light with the sun's descent. He raises a pouch, reaching his hand into it and sprinkling cactus green into the flame. Green smoke slowly begins to rise up from the flame through the roof of the tent, and the Rex finally turns towards his throne, stepping up to it and taking his seat slowly. "Wi hab luzt owr playuz amung da rayzez. Nuw wi regayn id. Wi am tu bild azh Trog owdzyd San'Vitar, agh wi am tu trayd deir wid da udder rayzez, invyt dem tu lib deir agh tu pey tribyoot tu Krug'z Krugmar. Nub mur am latz alloud tu klomp whueba latz wub tu klomp. Wi muzt conkur da bluudluzt, nub led it bikum uz. Deir am dahk furzez awakenin', da zhaman'z hab biin kommunin' wid da zpiridz, agh wi muzt bi pripayrd fer da wurzt... Bud fer nuw, mi bruddahz, eet. Klomp. Bi stronkk agh halp eechutha. Rimembuh, wi am awl bruddahz. Fer Krugmar agh Krug!"

"Canonism? Sounds like something we can all agree on; the truth of the Scrolls; of the word of Theos. We shall have ourselves a grand new time without all of those excuses of war we called sects. Theos megalus!"

I, Lukas von Gottsheim, twenty-four years of age, seek to serve the Church as acolyte of the True Faith.

"You fools think you can sit in your tiny chamber and deliberate on your own that which God speaks. If you wish to bring to us God's law, let all of God's children be there to witness it." Marcellus shakes his head slowly. "Secularism has stained humanity for so long; what good will it do to continue to deliberate so independently when men twice as pious as you stand defending God's word and having no say in it's translation?"

"A joke... The Carrion oathbreakers are fools. They seize power through violence and treachery only to have the Empire disintegrate around them. If they had not left my nephew in the dirt and let his head roll, he could have propped up this farce of a government." Marcellus, a once fugitive of the Empire, laughs almost in victory. "Also, who the **** is House de Bar? A puppet House I'm sure."

+1 Please!!

Reksam'Kog hears of the new name of the human capital with a wide grin. "Hurhur, da zharaz am vereh undiziziv!"

I'd like to add, forgive the double-post, that some nations have smaller populations than some guilds. Therefore, they pay far more than they are capable of producing when compared to larger nations or guilds. I propose the price of war system be changed. What if we had to pay for a cap on our soldiers for that battle, so perhaps 5 gold blocks and two stacks of food per 10 men?

Both of these. I would go so far as to say 30 seconds, just compare how much safer you are firing a catapult. Anyone with any proper defensive structure will be able to kill you long before even a minute is up, I believe, lest they are arrow-less.

Marcellus mutters something about missed opportunities.

The young orcish Warboss mutters to himself, clenching his fingers into an anticipating fist. "Mi gruk... Whu weel da Totoz mayk deir Rex? Mi gruk id zhud bi azh wurthi enemi. Ur mebbeh azh hunurabul bruddah, eurhur."

Reksam'Kog mutters something visceral; something dark to himself as the others celebrate the blessing on their land. Zogrocka... He said he had control of the spirits.

The human, Davis York, aids the Orcs in drafting the following document, which is then posted all throughout Athera. Tribute and Relations for the Warnation Of the following settlements, many shall be subject to paying tribute to the Iron Horde of Krug, of the city of San’Vitar, under the Rex Malog’Yar. Those who refuse tribute shall be stricken from the list of settlements declared by the Rex to be immune from Orcish harassment, and shall be subject to Orcish raiding parties. Those who choose to provide tribute cooperatively shall receive the opportunity after a length of time to form a Blood Pact with the Warnation and the Rex. The following is a list of settlements and the current Orcish relationship to them with regard to peace, war, tribute and demands. Haelun’or The Elves of Haelun’or are subject to the Uzg’s tribute, including all its rotten food, and additional supplies. Failure to comply will result in direct raids. Alras The Nation of Alras is known to harbor two Ologs, whitewash Ologs. For this, the Nation of Alras is to pay regular tribute and surrender the Ologs to the Warnation. Failure to comply will result in direct raids. The Halflings The Halflings of the Vale have failed to be cooperative and obedient when being requested tribute. This shall be the Halfling’s last warning to provide tribute in a timely, peaceful and obedient manner, or we shall return to the practice of hunting, skinning, cooking and eating halflings; our favorite tasty snack. The Kharajyr The Kharajyr have been exceptionally cooperative, and as a result shall not be subject to Orcish raids so long as they maintain plentiful, timely and obedient offers of tribute; rotten food as well as other supplies. Raine Academy Raine Academy has been thus far cooperative. They shall provide the Warnation with all their rotten food as well as additional tribute, in return for being exempt from Orcish raids.. The Order of Saint Amyas The Order of Saint Amyas has insulted and degraded the Orcs of the War Nation for decades; hunters of orcs by their very nature. As a result, in order for the Order to maintain peaceful relations with the War Nation, it is to disband and bring to the Warnation the head of Richard of Aldersburg. Failure to comply will result in absolute eradication. The Dwarves of Urguan The Dwarves of Urguan have been cooperative and peaceful and have agreed to provide the Orcs of the warnation with their rotten food. No further tribute is requested, as a show of respect for the Dwarves’ strength and fortitude as a people. This is not an establishment of an alliance. The Teutonic Order The Teutonic Order's crimes against the Orcish people are many. The Order shall provide the War Nation with all of it's rotten food, or be subject to Orcish aggression.

To the Denizens of the Imperium of Man From the Office of the Imperial Steward The Office of the Imperial Steward has deemed it organize the enlistment of all willing souls towards the completion of construction efforts on Petros, new capital of the Imperium Tertius. Prospective citizens, as well as anyone with a keen sense of duty towards the Realm of Oren, can hereby ensure a selection of benefits, in accordance with their amount of ‘Building Effort’ they choose to put into this grand project. For the purposes of this document, one ‘building effort’ (1BE) shall be defined either as a person’s donation of the entire approximated list of necessary supplies (listed below) or as a person’s completion of a residence’s construction. 1BE - Receive mention on the memorial statue erected upon completion of the city. 2BE - Receive exemption of payment for the first Taxation period on the chosen plot. 3BE - Receive honorable mention on the aforementioned memorial statue. The following is an approximated list of supplies that an average residency within Petros will require to be completed. 288 Units of Oak Logs (4 1/2 Bundles) 256 Units of Spruce Logs (4 Bundles) 128 Units of Cobblestone (2 Bundles) 64 Units of White Wool (1 Bundle)

The young orc roars as he hears of his brethren's victory. "Fer Krug! Dem pinkiez wub help'd bi da Decterum frum Carrion! Pruf dey am dogs ub Empeir!"

This document shall be translated into common for ease of read. A young Orcish warrior climbs atop the walls of the Orc's tattered desert citadel, staring out over the denizens with blood in his eyes. He raises both fists into the air and roars a mighty roar lasting for what seemed like minutes but surely was only seconds. Then silence. Young though he was, he needed to tell them what he had to say. "Orcs! Brethren! Sons of Krug! Are we slaves!?" He lowers his fists and pounds his chest. "Oren has insulted us many-a-time. They invented the Teutonic Conspiracy to justify their bloody war, and time and time again have proven that, while they are a foe worthy of battle, they are a foe without honor. Their people murder eachother while they sleep. Espionage and trickery are their tools. And now, one of their so-called God-Emperor's dogs has crossed the line." "Richard de Aldersburg, a slave of de Savoie, a slave of their false God-Emperor. He has crafted an Order of wretched origin and purpose. Unlike the bloody White Rose or the dishonorable Luciens; they cross the line, and draw the final straw. This Order of Saint Amyas' very purpose is the destruction of us! The Orcs, the Sons and Daughters of Krug!" The young Orc roars, a different roar this time. Before he called for his brothers to listen. This roar... He called for his enemies to bleed, and for those very brothers to aid him. "Yet now word comes to us! This God Emperor in his foolishness hopes for us to align ourselves with him and attack the dwarves by proxy! The foolish human wishes not to dirty his precious soft hands with battle. Whether or not we attack the dwarves, we will not do so at the bidding of an arrogant infidel; a self-proclaimed Divine." The young Orc makes a tight fist with one hand and roars one final time. "I demand the Order of St. Amyas be disbanded and their leader, Richard de Aldersburg, executed! Surely the foolish humans will never agree to send one of their dogs to the grave, one whose very existence is the bane of we, the Orcish people. One who wants nothing more than to destroy us." "Defending him is a declaration of war. If they refuse! Klomp! Klomp Richard de Aldersburg, the Slave of Slaves! Klomp Olivier de Savoie, the gutless coward! Klomp Robert Chivay, the self-proclaimed Divine! The infidel! The quarter-elven Emperor!" "If they refuse... death to the Imperium!"

Damien sits in his cell, reading reports of the attack. He bites his lip and places a hand on the bandage wrapped around his thigh, leaning back against the stone wall. "Godani save us all."