Smaw

The Raguk Clan The grinding, searing cogs of Uruk Warfare do not run on sheer bloodlust alone. No, beneath the sweltering expanse of the Desert exists an ashen and humid plane of grueling labour and raging furnaces. Where light finds little strength and bones break against stone, the Unbroken Orcs, red as the blood that smears their hands, work tirelessly for the progression of the Iron Uzg. A stalwart and powerful people, the Redskin Orcs offer little less than supreme productivity. There is nothing so important as the betterment of the Iron Uzg, and no clan personifies this statement as much as the Raguk. Your personal beliefs are inconsequential; so long as they are not frowned upon by the Uzg. Your value in the clan stems from one thing: Your contribution. The Raguk consist of proud Smiths and powerful Miners. There is no other option, save for the sparse Leather workers and Stonemasons that find their place within the clan. For those that are not born into the clan, a perilous trial awaits. It is a journey of great tribulation, in which an Uruk is tested for his intelligence, strength and most importantly perseverance. All three traits are necessary to be a successful Raguk, as they are more than mere workers. As laborious as the Raguk are, they are not aversed to combat. With their skin and bones hardened from life in the mines, and coupled with their natural strength, they are as built for warfare as the weapons they forge. Capable of utilising immense strength, these Uruk are not to be confused with simple peons; lest you wish to suffer an ill fate. Companion: But what is an Uruk without a mount? Nothing short of incomplete. As steeds from fierce Wolves to hulking Rhinos lay claimed by neighbouring clans, what would be left for the Raguk? The Myrzym, -said to be gifted to the Raguk by the spirits themselves- are massive, tusked beasts that greatly resemble Elephants. These hulking and slow monstrosities leave a path of destruction in their wake as they act as towering, immovable forces. Often armoured with the greatest of Raguk craftsmanship, these mounts are essential in times of war. They represent the great strength of the Raguk, and the unstoppable progression of the clan. Every Raguk is given a Myrzym cub to raise from an early age, as strong relationships are key in times of warfare. It is said that a Raguk will risk his life to save that of his companion, and the same can be said in reverse. Marking the Flesh: As the weapons we forge sear flesh, so too will we etch the symbolism of our nature into our very skin. Upon reaching the age of eight, or after being initiated into the clan, a Raguk is brandished or tattooed with a personal representation of their life path, and are to offer up the sacrifice of an animal they have hunted alone. Enslavement (Znagah Huntin'): As cruel as the abyssal fathoms of the Raguk cave system can be, it is well within each Unbroken to house a sinister disposition, of which no boundaries are set outside of the realm of his kin. It is for this reason that enslavement is a common thing among the Raguk, and slaves (Znagah) are frequently used to aid in the endless mining that takes place below the sands. Often times, when a Znagah is no longer useful, he or she is subject to weapon testing, and will suffer unimaginable pain before the end of his or her pitiful existance. Regular outings are held within the clan, in which many Raguk will band together and hunt for Znagah to be put to work in the mines, or merely for the purpose of entertainment. Raiding: As important as labour is for the Iron Uzg, the Raguk are fond of testing their brute strength in other ways. Frequently, raiding parties are sent out to spread woe and misery to those unfortunate enough to find themselves anywhere near an Unbroken Orc. Raiding parties are often coupled with Znagah Huntin' in order to ensure efficient use of time out of labouring. Generally, the Raguk hunt for minerals and weaponry to devoid their enemies of supplies, and to better their own cause. Application: Note: All Applicants will have to undergo trial RP before they can be fully implemented. MC Name: IC Name: Born or Initiated: Professions: Example of Skin (Not necessary): Time-zone: Teamspeak: Skype:

I'll be honest, there are enough Ghost/Specter races at the moment that are RP'd absolutely terribly. TERRIBLY. I would like to see more races implemented that are mortal, though. I think this has the potential to be abused a lot.

A hunched and grumbling Goblin edged his way toward the Flotsam Woods, bearing nout but a small parchment in his only arm. He paused for a moment, squinting at the depiction of the Stag and nodding thereafter in a languid movement. He snuck the parchment closer, before retracting from the area with haste. The parchment would appear to be of a terrible make, with a number of tears and stains throughout. One would notice a crudely drawn stag at the bottom of this item, almost childlike in it's artistic quality. The parchment would read: Name: anDRew brEEDhur Age: oLD Race: ShARa Minor Backstory: MI pAreNDZ wAZ kiLlED byH Orkz, aN iD iZ myH lyFV mizSIUN tUH flAT deM. Mi wUD lieKH tuH beCUHm ah mARKed mAN zoH dAT eiYH miyT kiLl dEM alLh wID daH poWAh ov dAH weAKeZt anIHmal dEre IZ, aH sTagh.

A partially torn and stained parchment would be brought to Terra by an unusually ugly Goblin. After handing it over, he proceeded to scurry away without a word. "IV lat iz pEEpin' fORH worKh, LAt caHn findh emBLOYmend wid mI. Eiyh wiLlh nUD pAyh lat, bUd wiLlh ovFEr lAT da chaNZe tuH liv AH lyVE fRii ov paiYNe. Lat wiLlh heLPh mi caDCh ZNAgahZ an traINh dem tUH caDCh morHe ZNAgah. Iv lAT iz indeREZded, rehturHN ah ledDErh tuH Kharak'Raguk ov Da Iron Uzg."

My opinion also. Additionally, this is just a resource I doubt the ET will ever use. What makes you think that? It can still be edited so I can take pointers.

If anything, they're more akin to Tsaesci. I didn't envision them as similar to Argonian, but perhaps that's a fault on my own writing. Nevertheless, I understand your point. Though as event creatures I'd hope they wouldn't be seen nearly as often or in such large numbers as the Kharajyr.

Note: Far beneath the cold, crashing ocean waves a cavern sits, serving as a tranquil home to those that would wander inside. The waters surrounding it seem to glow with a dim hue of emerald, far outreaching and warm to the touch. Upon further inspection, it would appear that the cavern itself was comprised of rock, almost entirely containing scattered, green shards of gemstone. This formation would be known only to the denizens of the area as Taec’or Saer; Cavern of Blessings. Countless years ago, a primitive species of Sea Serpent took to the haven of Taec’or Saer and for many years, basked in its warming and forgiving embrace. As they thrived in this new environment, they began to morph slowly into more complex beings. In terms of both intelligence and size, these serpents grew drastically, later developing prehensile limbs and keen self-awareness. In time, as with the natural progression of many species, an advanced civilisation had emerged beneath the waves. These creatures would come to refer to themselves as Saerhiinae; Blessed Serpents. It would appear that the source of their drastic growth came from the pulsating, green waters of Taec’or Saer. The gemstones found within house properties of magic that seem to alter the appearance of those in close quarters. As such, the Sea Serpents of old began to morph into the Saerhiinae that exist today. The Saerhiinae are scaled, serpentine beings that are often seen in swathes of blue. They are long and powerful creatures, with toned arms and clawed fingers. They peer at the world around them through slanted eyes, usually ranging between orange and red irises with dark slits for pupils. Generally, the Saerhiinae are not seen adorning themselves in clothing or armour as they have no concept of this. However, they can be seen wearing jewellery, especially those of higher status. These creatures dwell within the oceanic city of Zalaieth, which is very much an open expanse with very little in the form of defensive structures. It is a far distance from the cavern of which they originate, and those that set out to visit Taec'or Saer view the journey as a pilgrimage. ((This will not be a location in-game)) A considerable portion of the city serves as a haven from the water, where precious books and other salvaged items can be stored and kept safe. Additionally, these premises are used to farm and contain land species. Within the populace there exists two bloodlines from which the modern serpentine creatures descend, and this appearance is the deciding factor in their place within society. These two are categorised as either Haakari or Mula. Generally, the Haakari are more humanoid in appearance than their cousins. They have two arms, and two legs in place of the large tails of their cousins. Due to this, they are often set to work as the labourers of the species. Their powerful legs allows them to carry stone beneath the waves for building, and aid them in hunting when they venture to the surface. Due to consistent exposure to the surface, coupled with the effects of Taec’or Saer, the Haakari are capable of breathing on land for short periods of time; usually no longer than three hours. However, the Haakari are perceived as less elegant, and thus incapable of being involved in the politics and law of the Saerhiinae. Concept Art (Credit: http://koutanagamori.deviantart.com/) http://orig10.deviantart.net/d867/f/2010/173/1/f/lizard_man_by_koutanagamori.jpg The Mula serve as the monarchy of the species, as well as the law enforcement due to their greater swimming ability. The upper-crust of the species, the Mula have retained more of their serpentine form, comprising mostly of a long, slender body with an upright torso and arms. Additionally, those of the royal bloodline are blessed with intricate and colourful hoods. Due to their inclination to stay within the city, the Malu have not developed the ability to breath on land without aid. They must utilise the green gemstones in the form of amulets, allowing them the temporary ability to breathe in an alternative environment. Concept Art (Credit: http://sanguinesoupkitchen.deviantart.com/): http://img10.deviantart.net/9fe4/i/2011/261/5/9/another_tsaesci_chap_coloured_by_jonothanqchumpington-d4a6mtu.jpg Despite the monumental growth of these beings, they have suffered some ill consequences as a result of this hastened process. Their ability to digest food was severely harmed as their bodies began to morph, and as such, their internal system has been altered greatly. The Saerhiinae have an alternative method to nourishment, which involves draining and ingesting the blood of their prey. However, it would seem the marine life that share their environment serve little in the way of satisfactory. The Saerhiinae grow tired of small meals, and the Malu have been demanding larger species of the Haakari. Due to this, sightings of these creatures have grown more consistent as they wander the shores of Vailor in search of blood. Playing a Saerhiinae: Considering the nature of this race as an ET character, I won't go into great depth as much of a persona is influenced by the RP'ers creativity. However, I will list some minor aspects of note. I have more information regarding culture and potential event ideas if interest in the race is shown. Though, due to this already being quite long I'll cut it short here. These beings have little to no grasp of the common tongue, and are thus incapable of communication with land species. Additionally, concepts of clothing and eating are foreign and disturbing to them. The Saerhiinae hold no concern for the emotion of their prey, and care little for the circumstances they leave them in. In their view, they are merely livestock that replenish themselves.

(( This dude is a character I'm hoping to integrate into a future ET event, if I manage to get accepted. If not, I'll still be using him to a less interesting degree. )) Where does a man escape to when he despairs for his kin? To a land so far removed from civilisation that only his cries reverberate through the silence. The howling, bitter winds force the three men further as they trudge through the deep snow. Visibility is low, the light of day quickly fading from the horizon, blocked in various places by gargantuan mountains of iced stone. One of the men trembles for a brief moment, before crashing onto his knee in an attempt to avoid the cold blanket of snow that spanned for miles. His companions rushed over to his aid, thrusting their walking canes deep into the ground. "C'mon, we gotta get some cover!" One of them exclaimed as they both picked him up. The trio glanced up into the distance, catching the final glimpse of day before they were plunged into darkness. The injured man hung his head as the others struggled to carry him to a nearby shelter of outreaching stone. They settled him down, procuring some supplies from their bags, attempting to spark a flame. In their success, they were offered a temporary solace from the unforgiving expanse of the North. The blistering winds persist throughout the night, a constant reminder of the looming danger awaiting them outside. One of the men awakens to daybreak; every moment of light a gift to be seized. He rises to his feet, preparing to pack some things when he notices a small patch of blood trickled by the entrance. In a panic, he hastily scans the haven, only to come to a dreadful realisation. "Wake up!" He yelled, pacing around the room and clutching at his hair as he tried desperately to understand the situation. "Wake up, James!" He said, patting down on the injured man. "The feck is wrong?" He said, rubbing his eyes as he tried to sit himself up. "Roger is gone!" The frantic man yelled, pointing over to the blood stain. The half-sleeping man peered over, scurrying back in shock as the sight woke him fully. "What happened?" "I. I don-" He muttered, edging closer to the blood and peering out at the limitless sheet of ice and snow. James rose to his feet in a fast but cautious manner, making his way toward his companion. He followed his gaze, eyeing a patchy trail of red stains along the white ground. "We gotta get out ah' here. We gotta get home." James said, moving back inside, clutching at his things with shivering limbs. His bewildered friend followed suit, gathering what essentials he could muster. The pair quickly departed from the cavern, breaking out once more into the punching winds. They rushed as quickly as their bodies would allow, trudging through the snow in a desperate attempt to flee the scene. James was falling behind, barely keeping pace with his companion due to his injury. The man turned, grasping at his arm and pulling him along. The two travelled for as long as the light broke through the mountains, and continued even into the encroaching darkness. They had little choice as the barren wastes grew colder, opting to take shelter in a small hole in the mountainside. They gathered what they could, creating a disappointing barricade out of bags and tools. The men sat through the night, trying as hard as they could to remain awake, before succumbing to the fatigue they had developed from the struggle. As small rays of light broke through the blockage, the sweeping winds seemed to cease and a deafening silence fell upon the desert. For a time, this calming state continued. Until a looming sound grew more intense, originating from the distance. *CLINK!* *CLANK!* The men awoke, rushing to the makeshift barricade and punching a hole through to inspect the distance. The sounds continued, nothing before them but the familiar expanse of snow, ice and mountainous horizons. *CLINK!* *CLANK!* The clanging sounds continued to spread through the land, a sign of life to those that could hear. The men continued to peer through the gap, scanning around in an attempt to find a source of the noise. Suddenly, a paled and rugged man's face blocked their view to the outside world. "There you are!" He exclaimed in a cheery tone, pulling away at some of the bags and tools that blocked him off. The men jumped back in shock, huddling together as they picked up their walking canes, forming a defensive stance. "Woah there." He said, laughing to himself. "There's no need for that, fellas." "Who the feck are you!?" James exclaimed. The strange man tilted his head in curiosity, pausing for a moment as he looked between the two. "What do you mean? I'm like you, mate." "Me?" "Aye, we're all Human here. No need to start any trouble." He said, holding up his hands with open palms. "I've a little spot back there. You know, where that anvil is makin' the noise?" The men turned to each other, before James turned back to the stranger. "What's your name?" "Ah," The man said, scratching the back of his head. "The name's Atalo. Bit of a weird one." He finished, smiling and stepping back. "Shall we go inside before the wind starts up again?" The pair once again turn to each other, lowering their canes slightly.

So much yes.

In battle, men cannot rely on strength and wit alone; they must have supernatural guidance if they are to succeed. A scruffy man sits within a ramshackle tavern, speaking to the inquisitive minds that watch him. You decide to venture closer, curious as to what he is saying. Indeed, the crew of the Lady Luck were a tumultuous band of pirates that reveled in the act of looting and fighting. These men were strong, brave and somewhat intelligent, but their success was not driven by these aspects; their fates were influenced by something far greater. You see, in a world such as ours there are seldom stories told that do not involve great magicks, terrible beasts and hooded miscreants. This will certainly be no exception to the rule. Many of you have not taken to the harsh seas, and so I do not expect you to have ever come across these men. They encompassed everything you would expect of a pirate, but their macabre ideologies were something most unusual. As the sun was tucked beneath the blanket of the sea, these men would take to their rooms and adorn themselves in robes of blacks and reds. They would emerge in the open space of their ship, a pleading man's cries barely piercing the air over the chanting of the crew. With the spillage of blood, all would fall to a deathy silence as the men watched their latest victim return to the darkness. Yes, these men held dear to the idea that everything once emerged from the darkness, and they believed that Death existed to return what had been taken from the void. Death is the only certainty in life, and these men thus considered it to be a real force, an absolute truth; and therefore absolute power. In order to prove their servitude to the absolute and it's cause, they would allow "Death" to act through them. Their reign lasted for half a decade before they were disbanded by some terrible event. On a night of sacrifice, an overwhelming tide crashed against the Lady Luck, forcing her into a cliffside. Amidst the crimson waters and wreckage, a handful of men flailed about as they tried to find a means of escaping the water. Few managed to escape on the debris of the Lady Luck, but those that did ventured off into directions that would cause the remaining crew to disperse. I know these men are still out there somewhere, searching for their brothers... OOC: My intention with this guild is to create RP involving the men of the Lady Luck finding their brethren. Once this has been achieved, I should like for them to once again partake in the acts of service detailed above. This will most likely require new characters, though I am willing to talk to anyone that should like to have an existing character be a member of the crew. These men are to be clandestine in their endeavours, and are by no means lacking in common sense; therefore, I do not expect to see any glaringly obvious skins. Let's keep the clothing normal. OOC Application: IGN: ICN: Age: Race: Personality: Ambitions: What happened to your character after the crash? Do you have a lot of RP experience? I will require an image of the skin you intend to use. If you are accepted, I shall PM you and ask for your Skype details so that we may create a group.

Accepted.

A large number of posters can be seen strewn about the various cities of the land. Farmers And Labourers Alike! The White Onion Manor is currently looking for members. The owners of this fine land are a group of proficient farmers seeking to band together with peoples of like-mind to impart knowledge to. Our aim is to construct a haven for those that wish to hone in on their skills without the incessant harassment of city-dwellers, and to expand to other regions, bestowing ownership of land to the trusted members of our organisation. In return for our services, The White Onion Manor expects to receive a percentage of income gained from sales, to ensure the maintenance of the plots. Our History: Tired of the stifling demands of city folk, the founders of The White Onion Manor set out in search of a land they could call their own, free from the tribulations of war, and the pollution of cramped spaces and local trouble makers. The White Onion stands as a symbol of pride to the manor. The aforementioned vegetable was the first to be grown on the land, and has since become a famous speciality of our farmers. Application: For those that are interested, please fill out the form below and have it sent to White Onion Manor. Name: Age: How long have you been farming for? What are you interested in delving into? Will you require accommodation? OOC: You do not need to send a bird, simply apply on this thread.

Zaniil looked over the application, his face contorting at the prospect of working with other races. Your: Name: Zaniil Tinuvriel Age: 58 Race: Mali'aheral Are you wishing to join the college as a Mage, or a Pilgrim?: I should like to join as a Mage. If joining as a mage, clarify on if you are currently skilled in the magical arts, or being taught by someone who is: I am somewhat skilled in the arts of evocation and have been teaching myself for many a year now. What affinity of magic are you skilled in? I evocate fire. OOC: MC Name: Smawton When did you join the server?: Some months ago; I do not remember an exact date. If applying as a mage, link any currently approved MAs unless grandfathered: http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/91847-zaniil-tinuvriels-magic-application/ If applying as a mage, list your magic type and tier: Arcane Evocation - Fire (T3)

Name: Zaniil Tinuvriel ((MC Name)): Smawton Age: 58 Magic Forms Known: Fire Evocation. How do you lay claim to the fact you are pure Mali'aheral? I for one am a citizen, and would not be if I were not pure. I have proven my dedication to our people in past events, and continue to contribute to our progress where possible. How long has one resided within the Lin'evaral? Approximately five elven weeks. Is one associated with any other guilds? I am not. Will you follow the maehr'sae hiylun'ehya to the letter in the pursuit of arcane knowledge? I follow the maehr'sae hiylun'ehya in all matters. What magical knowledge do you wish to acquire, if any? I am interested in improving upon my evocation.