Samoblivion

Lukra is outraged at this new blow to autocracy. "BOLZHEVIZM!!"

Shitposting of this magnitude takes some fine effort.

Tythus, come make an Orc. There's a steam key in it for you.

I'm gonna get a new commission from one of our better artists in a couple of months, but my efforts will have to do till then.

Lukra shares a smoke of greenz with some dwarven scouts and fellow Braduks as they move men and material south. "While id am alwayz hozh tu peep humanz flattin humanz, maybeh id wuld be bubhozh tu zupport deez Rose-kin zavoyardz. Better da zkaherz latz gruk den da ztrippling kub-emperor wayvin hiz newleh enlarged **** arownd tu liv up tu hiz daddy izzuez."

Do you have a link to commissions info? I'm too broke to order one at the moment, but just so I know. Also, how comfortable are you with Orcs and armour?

Name: Lukra'Braduk Race: Uruk Building/Room: Building 2, Apartment 1 Bid: 300 minas.

How's he a meme? My History lecturers at uni seem to think quite highly of him.

Dune is to sci-fi what The Lord of the Rings is to fantasy. A towering piece of story-telling that paints a fraction of an incredibly vast and complex world. Prepare to meet the bizarre world of the 22nd millenium, a world of conspiracies, betrayals, murderous sex-nuns, floating fat men, farseers, noble houses, assassins and sand worms. How far will a young man with a terrible destiny go to save his family and take revenge on the empire that damned them? The Spice Must Flow. Pros: - Easily one of the deepest and most alien sci-fi universes ever created. - As much a treatise on metaphysics and destiny as it is a novel. - A Lawrence of Arabia rip off in the best way possible. - If you ever saw the Dune movie from the 80s, don't worry the book is far far far better than what that turned out to be. - The ending and sequels (most of them...). - THE MOTHERFUCKING FREMEN. Cons: - The writing and universe are so hard to get into that the first few chapters cause physical pain. Once you get your head around the weird **** in this world it gets awesome. Power through, it's worth it. - Paul, the main character, is a bit of a Mary Sue. It gets annoying at times but you can ignore it for how good the rest of the story is. - The author occasionally gets lost in some random characters' musings on time and space and all sorts of random ****.

Lukra reads this and suddenly gets back to work, having spent most of her time flying around on the wings of a strange local insect, insulting the work of master architect Vaktismo, and delegating her building duties to Gholug and the extremely elderly clan goblins.

((Sorry this took me so long Application Persona Name: Lukra'Braduk MC Name: samoblivion Skype Name: jack.northrop96 Timezone: GMT

Hi there, welcome to the server! LeoWarrior's advice is pretty much the best anyone can give to a new player. For your first character, get invested in a big safe group to learn the ropes and the expectations of the nation/group you're interested in. The majority of people here are very accomodating to new players, so you should be fine. I see the character on your application is human, so I'll tailor this next bit for Humans but if you want to make another character of a different race this advice may be radically different - for example, due to current wars, Orcs and Dwarves are arrested or killed on sight in cities and vassals of Oren, the main human state. For a Human character I'd recommend jumping straight into RP in Oren, as it is the main racial nation of the Humans and has a high number of players in its major cities. Good Orenian areas to go for regular RP are the capital of Johannesburg, the eastern city of Metz near the Wood Elves and Haense in the North. Orenian RP is based on Medieval Europe, notably the Holy Roman Empire, and has a nationalist imperial policy toward the world. As would be expected in a medieval world, deviance from cultural and religious norms is frowned upon. Good quality RP of the Witcher universe type can be found in most sectors of Orenian society, from commoner to high nobility, catering to both peaceful and more militant RP tastes. All of Oren's major activities are on the island of Tahn. If Oren doesn't suit you after trying it there are numerous other places to RP for a Human. The neutral city-state of Sutica is dedicated to peaceful, multi-racial RP apart from the conflicts on the larger nations. Its generally more open in regards to things like magic use, inter-racial relationships and political opinions. Sutica can be found on the snowy island of Ceru. A nice place to visit that's safe for a Human are the lands of the Wood Elves in eastern Tahn. Linandria's a beautifully built city with a high player count and generally more peaceful RP than in Oren. Nearby are the multi-racial guilds of the Druids and the Ascended, both groups that are exceptionally welcoming of new players. If one wants to go further afield, the Shamans are also a good group to look into. If you're looking for a different experience entirely you could attempt to join more renegade groups of Humans opposed to Oren, albeit more PvP focused militant ones or if you want a more generalised RP experience in that side you could join the Dwarves or Orcs. The Orcs are a tribe-like meritocratic culture of warriors. Although generally racist against outsiders, if one seeks to joint their ranks you can become an honourary - a non-Orc fighting in Krug's name, considered to have an Orcish soul. Alternatively you could simply be a tribute paying wanderer wanting to experience life amongst the Orcs without that level of commitment. For the Dwarves, they're relatively accepting for peaceful players and their military is historically multi-racial. Hope this helps and you enjoy our stay with us!! :) P.S. If you want to make another character aside from the one on your application, no additional application is required for this after your first application is accepted, and a new character sheet can be made instantly using the persona system accessed through /me in game.

Indeed, the settlement in question is not affiliated with the Warnation of Krugmar (which is FYI the new official name of the Orcish polity) and is an entirely separate Dwarven vassal town populated mostly by humans with an Orcish minority - with BowDownToTheRex as its current leader.

From personal experience, I have no issue with the Admin team. They may be a little slow to respond to some issues, but that comes with the territory of governing a playerbase of over 400 people. Furthermore, despite my admitted personal biases against Oren which I do struggle with and try to keep out of my non-RP writing, I believe much of the current sentiment against the admins is due to actions by the higher staff that are considered counter-intuitive to Orenian policy both IC'lly and OOC'lly. Can the staff improve? Certainly. Have the staff made mistakes? Undoubtedly. The handling of recent warclaims is case in point. Despite popular opinion orcs and dwarves are NOT happy with current handling of events. That said. Tahmas has done NOTHING to the level of the accusations levelled at him by some players. Nothing at all. In my personal opinion, his actions have been measured and fair.

BRADUK CLAN SEAL OF APPROVAL

((This is the second post republishing the old Braduk lore stories written by the old stalwarts of the clan 3 years ago. The following story, with the exception of my RP introduction, was written by the1bow as the prologue for the late Adam Higgs's tale of the Village Wars. This was likely written with the input of Higgsy, ilikefooddude, yimmya and makka_p, but I can't be 100% sure. The Intro is written in common not blah for the benefit of those not fluent.)) ----------------- A month after her last skirmish in the southern warzone Lukra's wound had fully healed and she prepared once more to join the fray. Again, she found herself around the fire of Azaghol, talking idly with friends and subordinates, clanless and cubs. At one point, Zlazh'Yar, son of the martyred Rex Vorgo'Yar and the current Targoth, got her attention. "Oi Lukra. Been thinking about your story from the other night. Now, the name Gorfjol is familiar to me, couldn't remember where from though. Something tells me killing Urdnot wasn't the last of his bad deeds, huh?" Some of Braduks around the fire snorted in laughter. To them the name Gorfjol was one you didn't forget in a hurry. Lukra's normally severe look split into an amused grin. Another Braduk called up mockingly to Zlazh : "He spent his days stealing toys from cubs, scourge of the clan he was!". A chilling glare from Lukra was masked by tempered words. "Don't mock." The Braduk quickly and humbly backed down, averting his eyes. Lukra's eyes flicked back to Zlazh, leaning forward to rest her arms on her lap. "No. No, that was not the last bad deed that Gorfjol committed, brother. And if that's your roundabout way of asking what happened next, ask me straight. Don't beat around the bush if you want something." Zlazh smirked and crossed his arms. "Fair play. What happened next, Lukra?" Lukra chuckled. "Someone bring some greens, you'll need them to get your head around Skog the Mad." "In the months after the smashing of the Black Flag pirates and the death of Urdnot, command quickly came to Braduk. His rule was not disputed, and was popular amongst both the young and old. Save Gorfjol, of course, but they were still brothers - for now at least. From the wrecked ships of the pirates, the refugees found weapons but more importantly timber to fortify and improve on their tent dwellings. The victory over the Humans had strengthened the renown of Braduk's camp and many more had flocked to their banner. Braduk dreamed of a true home for the huddled masses that looked to him for leadership. But to claim that home would require a journey into sea of chaos that they had left behind in the desert. For all their ills the Humans we face today are not evil... but in those days of legend, what Braduk and his kin were faced with was a glimpse into the heart of darkness that dwells in madness and nightmare." ----------------- The Battle for the Badlands The badlands were located roughly a mile away from the tent village that was now commanded by Braduk. It was referred to the badlands due to its un earthly high temperatures, only the strong could survive there. It was uncharted. The badlands itself was a valley that stretched two miles long, at the end a large mountain. On the left, a series of massive sand dunes, known as the ‘Hilltops’ and on the right, another series of sand dunes though not as big. Just beyond the dunes on the right was the ‘Cliffside’, a sharp drop that fell down to the rocky shores of the sea. A year had passed since what was now referred to as the War of the Black Flag had ended. Braduk had taken command and his people loved him. A lost beast Braduk sat in the seat his father had sat in for so long. Even now, a year later, it felt awkward to sit in a dead mans chair. Braduk mourned his father quickly and quietly. He couldn’t afford to focus on his emotions, not when so many people depended on him. Gorfjol walked into the tent. Ever since that day, the day the pirates were defeated, Gorfjol had been…different. Braduk could never understand why, but he knew his brother, and that was not him. “You wanted to see me, brother.” Braduk perked up, sitting straight in his chair. “Yes. Our numbers are forever growing. It is mostly ferocs and cubs who have lost their mates and fathers in the clan wars, but it adds to my responsibility nonetheless. The badlands are more secure. We can set up a life there, we can bunker down and protect it when need be.” “You want to move this settlement, to the badlands?” Gorfjol asked, not moving from where he had first entered the tent. “Regardless of what I want, that’s what I am doing. These people are my people. It is my duty to keep them safe.” Braduk spoke as he looked over the old map on the table. A un charted section, with only ‘Badlands’ written over it was where his gaze rested. Everybody knew what made up the badlands, but nobody had yet ventured inside. “So tell me then brother, where do I fit into your grand scheme, hmm?” Gorfjol’s voice gave off an irritable tone. Braduk chose to ignore it. “I would have you among the orcs I take to scout the badlands. We need to have an idea of where we are moving first before we go. We can’t just pack up and leave.” “Name the time and place, and I will be there.” Gorfjol didn’t wait for a response, turning to leave the tent. Braduk sighed, and recalled the days when he and Gorfjol could speak without tension. Those days had long passed. Braduk went back to studying the map. He rose from his seat, made of oak. Part of the arm rest broke off as he did so. Braduk squinted, picking up the piece of oak. With a shrug, he tossed it carelessly onto the table. It landed on the words ‘Badlands’. “Alright boys, this is the first step to our future. Stay close, eyes peeled, weapons out. We don’t know what we are going to find, so be ready. Lets move out.” Braduk took his group of ten men, including him and Gorfjol. The journey to the valley of the badlands was long and hot. The heat increased as they neared. Blazing, blistering, what lay ahead of you was blurred out by the haze of the heat. “Skah, its hot.” One of the grunts said. The group laughed. “You don’t say, dumb skah.” Another grunt said, causing more laughter. “Alright, enough. We-…the skah is that?” Braduk squinted, he could barely see because of his blurred vision. Whatever was coming was big, and green. “Ready yourselves boys!” Braduks men took to battle stance, but as the thing grew close, it was revealed to be an olog. Standing at 13ft tall with nothing on but a loincloth, the olog held up his hands. “I’m not here to harm you, or your orcs.” Braduk and his squad did not stand down. “Whats your name, olog?” Braduk asked, hammer at the ready. “Kudo.” A pause between the greenskins lasted about ten seconds. “Why are you in the badlands?” “Is that what you call it? Hah, I’ve called it home for a few years. Not any more though.” Kudo the olog let out a rapsy laugh, his lips were bone dry. “Got any water?” A grunt moved to offer Kudo some from his canteen, but Braduk stopped him. “Herh, well you lot look well fed. You got a camp?” Braduk and Gorfjol exchanged glances. “Yes, we do.” Braduk responded, he sounded uneasy. “Take me there, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” “No, we’ve got a job to do.” It was Gorfjol who spoke this time. It was clear he was taking too kindly to this large new comer. “And what might that be, little orc?” Kudo chuckled. Braduk stepped forward, releasing his battle stance. “We are moving into the badlands.” As Braduk spoke, Gorfjol grunted. “Stand down boys.” “You don’t want to do that.” Kudo said, as if he were serious. “Why would that be?” Gorfjol stepped forward, he still looked ready for a fight. “Take me back to your camp, Ill fill you in.” Another silence. Braduk sighed, nodding. “Come on then.” The journey back was quiet, almost, peaceful. Braduk and Gorfjol dragged at the back of the group, speaking quietly. “You would bring that thing back with us? What if it’s a trap?” Gorfjol had repeated himself numerous times. Braduk gave the same answer. “Then we will kill him and any who stand before us. We will endure, as we have always done.” Arriving back at the tent village, Braduk told his men to go escape the heat and to have a drink. He, Gorfjol and Kudo made their way to the tent upon the hill. Braduk sat behind his map table, with Gorfjol leaning against it on the opposite side. Kudo stood near the enterance. “It’s a nice place you’ve got here.” Kudo said, breaking the silence. “Would be nicer still, if we could lay the foundation for an actual village in the badlands.” Braduk spoke without caution, as if he trusted Kudo. This annoyed Gorfjol, yet he remained silent for the time being. “That raises a bit of a problem.” “Why is that, Kudo?” Braduk responded. “I was apart of a group of orcs, not a clan, but we followed this one orc. Skog. He is mad. He is cold, unforgiving, and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. That is why he is such an effective leader, but he has no morals, no honour. He took it too far the other night. He murdered baby cubs just to make a point. That is why I left.” There was an obvious pain in Kudo’s voice. Braduk leaned back in his chair. He was already developing a hate for this orc, this, Skog. “We will end his reign of terror.” The air in the tent fell still, Braduk’s voice was as serious as ever. “NO! Not my cub!” Faint cries from somewhere in the village seeped into the tent. The two orcs and the olog quickly left the tent, weapons drawn and fists at the ready. Meet the mad orc The orcs of the tent village gathered around at one of its outskirts. Braduk, Gorfjol and Kudo pushed their way to the front. It was there that they saw them. A large wooden cart attached to four dark brown boars. Ten orcs, crowding around it, one holding the reigns, three on the cart with loaded crossbows aimed at the people, five armed and armoured on the ground but one stood in front of them. This orc stood well over eight feet, his skin sickly and pale. The orc had long fair hair with a beard of equal length, but the bottom of it was dyed red in blood. One white eye, and the flayed face of a human attached to a chain of beads around his neck. The orc held a long thick oak club, the end of which rested against the head of a small orc cub, no older than four. “My name, is Skog. I have also been fashioned as ‘Skog the mad’. Hah! Call me that to my face and Ill eat your brains.” A feroc tried to run forward but was restrained, she was the cubs mother. “Please don’t hurt him!” Skog simply laughed. “Well, I can be reasonable. But I can also be the baddest momoskah’ha in the land, depending on how you all treat me. Bring forth your leader, now.” Braduk made his way to the front, and Skog grinned at the sight of him. “Ah, I take it you lead these people.” “I serve them as much as they serve me.” Braduk responded. Skog shrugged. “A valiant notion, but a skah’n stupid one,” Skog peered past Braduk and saw Kudo, “big man, why are you here?” Kudo made his way to the front of the crowd. “I could ask you the same thing Skog.” Skog nodded, making a pondering face that you could only hope even he knew was exaggerated. “Honestly I was tracking you. We had been ever since you left us,” Skog’s voice went oddly serious, considering it had a lighthearted yet demented tone to it just before. “and I want you to remember, whatever happens to these people happens because you are here.” Suddenly Skog snapped back into his normal, sadistic and humouress self. “You all belong to me now, like a feroc should belong to an orc. I will return every week and take my desired amount of supplies from you. Food, materials, weapons. And in return for your cooperation, I wont wear your eyes as ear piercings.” “What if we refuse?” Braduk said, clutching his hammer tightly. Skog looked almost offended. “Then we will be able to read this cubs thoughts because his brains will be on the skah’n sand.” Skog looked serious now, and brought the oak club up, ready to swing. The cub’s mother cried out, as did the cub. Braduk looked at Skog, then to the cub, then to his mother. “Ok. One week.” A near silent murmur floated around the camp, Gorfjol looked at Braduk wide eyed, whilst Kudo had not taken his eyes off Skog. Skog on the other hand, laughed, handing his club off to one of his orcs. “Perfect. One week.” Skog kicked the cub over to his mother. Skog and his crew piled back onto the cart, and they kicked up a storm of dust and sand as they rode off. Braduk’s people stared at him. He did not return the looks, but only walked back to his tent. Kudo and Gorfjol followed. “You would agree to terms with that skah’n mad orc?” Gorfjol was livid, and paced back and forth in the tent. “That cubs life was at risk. I needed to protect my people.” Braduk’s voice was monotone, he stared blankly at the cloth wall of the tent, slumped in his chair. Kudo folded his arms, deep in thought. “Yet you sell them off to ‘Skog the mad’?” Gorfjol yelled. “Silence yourself little orc,” Kudo marched over to Gorfjol, shoving him, “he did what any –good- leader should do.” Kudo snarled at Gorfjol before returning to the table, leaning over it. “Braduk, are you sure this is the path you want to take? I have seen this happen before. His take gets bigger and bigger until you cant pay, then he wipes you out.” Braduk was listening, but his face showed conflicting emotions. Gorfjol slammed his hands down onto the table. “Well then brother, you know what we have to do. We out number his what, ten orcs? Take our best fighters to his camp and end them before they can do any real damage.” Braduk nodded, standing up. “Get our cousin, Gundabad and our four best fighters. Go Gorfjol.” Gorfjol smirked, running out of the tent. Kudo began to speak but Braduk cut him off. “Kudo, could you take us to the camp if we used the path on the dunes?” “Yes but…” ”Good, prepare yourself.” “Braduk wait, there is more than-…” It was too late, Braduk had already left the tent. During the journey to the badlands Kudo tried to speak up, but was shut down by Gorfjol every time he did. Eventually the olog decided to let them find out for themselves. The group of nine orcs crouched atop the dunes of the Hilltop, their eyes wide and jaws open. “Holy skah…” Gundabad muttered. “This is what I tried to tell you, you fools!” Kudo said as his face scrunched up. They were looking at a semi tent, semi hut village, almost as large as their own. “How many…” Braduk’s voice showed no hint of fear, only worry. “A little less than your entire village. Yet they are all males, all warriors.” A few soft thuds graced the sand behind the orcs. They all sprung around, and were met by almost twenty orcs, each with crossbows, loaded and aimed. “Weapons on the ground boys, make this easy.” Having no choice, Braduk and his men did as they were told. “Bind them.” Braduk didn’t try to struggle free as he was brought through the camp. He knew it would achieve nothing. The sun began its descent over the horizon, but its heat lingered in the air. Finally, they reached the mountain that sat at the end of the badlands between the two dune walls. Resting against it sat a make shift throne made of bones from various creatures. Sat atop the throne, was Skog, his oak club lying across his lap. Braduk and his orcs were put on their knees in a line in front of the throne. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you all so soon.” Skog laughed, and his men did as well, but it was clear they did it out of the fear of what would happen if they didn’t. “You know, leader orc, I never got your name.” Braduk growled lowly. “Braduk.” “Hmm, for some reason I seemed to imagine something a little more…pinkskin. Strange huh. But lets get down to business, Braduk. Why are you here?” Skog relaxed back into his throne, as if he was just having a casual conversation with a friend. Braduk looked at Skog’s non-colour coordinated eyes with a deep feeling of hate. “I was coming to kill you. And I promise you, I will.” Braduk’s gaze did not waver for a single second. “Honesty is key in friendship Braduk, so I appreciate it. Yet to try and kill me, eh, it’s a big mistake. Now I thought I made it clear back at your skah’y village that I can be reasonable, I didn’t bash the cubs skull in. Yet you just have to skah’n push me and test my patience,” Skog sighed, but made it obvious it was put on, “well one of you needs to be punished.” Skog rose from his throne, paced along the line of restrained orcs. He passed each of the grunts with little care. He arrived at Braduk. “I cant kill you, Ill lose the cooperation of your people.” He moved next to Gorfjol. “Heh, too small.” Next, Kudo. “Ah, old friend. I would not have you so easily from this world.” Lastly, Gundabad. “Looks like its you my friend.” Braduk tried to get up, but was quickly held back. “NO! Skah’n take me, he has done nothing wrong.” Skog laughed, moving over to Braduk, crouching infront of him. “The very fact he was here is what he did wrong. Now I will only take his life, think of it as a kindness. Push me, and not only will I kill all of you, we will sweep through your village and kill every single orc that resides there.” Braduk looked to his cousin. “Its ok cousin. I sacrifice myself so that you may return and end this sorry skah. You would have done the same for me.” Braduks jaw tightened, and Skog moved infront of Gundabad. “Come on the-…” CRACK. Skog had swung with such a heavy force, three out of the four of Gundabads tusks snapped off. CRACK. Gundabad’s head snapped back, his nose broken. CRACK. Skog laughed as Gundabad’s jaw dislocated. He was in pain, but kept upright. CRACK. Blood poured from his eyeball as it popped out from the hit. CRACK. Gundabad fell to the side, barely managing a grunt. CRACK. A dent in the orcs skull appeared. CRUNCH. Gundabads skull caved in, his brains spilling to the floor. Panting, but laughing Skog wiped some blood splatter off his face. He moved back over to Braduk, crouching before him. “You made me do this, I hope your remember that. But I also hope you remember I can be fair, I can be reasonable. But don’t push me. This is a warning for each of you.” Skog got up and moved back to his throne, easing back into it. “Take them back to their settlement. Hah, see you in a week Braduk.” Evil at your doorstep A week passed, Skog allowed Braduk Gundabads body for funeral rites. The whole village was eerily quiet. No orcs drinking, no orcs training, no socializing. Suddenly, a horn was blown. Braduk, Kudo and Gorfjol emerged, seeing Skog with about fifty orcs spread between three carts. Skog walked up to Braduk and put his arm around him. “Hello friend!” Skog said. Braduk shrugged his arm off, his face snarling up. “Don’t be like that Braduk. How have you been?” Braduk sucked his teeth, grunting. “Take what you want and go.” Skog shrugged as Braduk spoke. “I intend to, but you don’t need to be such a feroc about it.” And with that, Skogs crew began rummaging through the tents. People were kicked out of their little homes and had their possessions pillaged. “You can’t just let this happen Braduk!” Gorfjol whispered. Braduk shook his head. “Let it happen Gorfjol, I know what I’m doing.” “You have gone soft!” Gorfjol shouted, punching his brother in the jaw. Kudo went to grab him but Braduk wove him away. Cracking his neck, Braduk went face to face with Gorfjol. The two stared eachother down. Skog emerged, stealing a pregnant ferocs food and eating it. He cheered as the fight occurred. Braduk headbutted Gorfjol, stunning him. He spear tackled him to the ground, and began laying punches into his little brothers face. “Ok enough.” It was Skog. Kudo pulled Braduk of Gorfjol. The two brothers stood up, glaring at eachother. Gorfjol stormed off. Kudo patted Braduk on the shoulder. Skog smirked, waving his club in the air. His orcs moved back and climbed into the carts. As Skog went to leave, he stopped in front of Braduk. “You’re an interesting host Braduk, Ill give you that.” Skog chuckled as he got into one of the carts, and with a series of tugs, the boars trotted away, pulling the carts with them. “Kudo, on me.” Braduk motioned for Kudo to follow and they made their way back to the hill tent. Braduk quickly sat down, overlooking the map. He looked at the piece of oak on the “Badlands” marking on the map. He ran his fingers through his hair. Oak. He threw the piece of oak to the side and pointed to the bone placed on the very edge of the map. “Throughout this week I have been sending scouts all through out the sands. They have reported a human controlled cart that ventures on the very edge of the desert where sand meets dirt that carries dynamite. The cargo is large enough to take a considerable amount of Skogs orcs out, leveling the playing field and evening the odds.” “You seek to take the cart.” Braduk nodded. “Then we descend upon the pinkskins with superior numbers.” Braduk shook his head. “No, such a large movement of troops will cause attention, only me and you will be going.” Braduk balled his hands into fists, resting them onto the table. “You don’t bring Gorfjol?” “Its best if my brother has time to simmer the skah down. This is our one shot, and his foolishness could put it in jeopardy.” Kudo nodded. “When do we leave?” “Dusk. It will take a days trip up and back, that is why we leave so soon.” Kudo nodded once more. “I understand. I will prepare.” Nightfall had just begun when Braduk and Kudo left the village. The two traveled silently. They had become good friends, Braduk considered Kudo his second in command over Gorfjol by this point, but there was too much on each of their minds. The pair covered much ground, and by midnight, they chose to stop. “We will rest here until dawn. If we’re lucky, we will hit where the cart passes by noon.” Braduk said, rolling his shoulders. Kudo offered Braduk some water but he waved it away. An hour passed, and Kudo was fast asleep. Braduk was not afforded that luxury. His mind was racing. Could Skog be defeated? What would his father have thought if Braduk failed? He had the weight of his ancestors on his shoulders, and the lives of his people in his hands. Braduk tossed and turned in the sand, but never found rest that night. The morning sun just broke over the horizon. Braduk slapped Kudo, who punched him in the gut. They laughed. “How foolish of me to wake a sleeping giant.” Braduk chuckled, gathering his things. Kudo got up, stretching. “If only you were Skog. I would’ve ripped your orc parts off and fed them to you.” Kudo said with a yawn. Braduk and Kudo continued the walk to the edge of the desert. They arrived at the path before noon, making good time. “Come on! We need to get this stuff delivered to the dwarves. Hurry it up!” One of the humans in the back of the cart called out. The one in the front holding the reigns of the two horses pulling the cart rolled his eyes. Two more sat in the back with the one who yelled out. The path they turned onto was half sand, half dirt. On one side, green shrubbery. The other, blistering sand. “Why have we stopped moving?!” The commander of the humans got off from the back of the cart and walked around to the front. The driver had a bolt lodged through the side of his head and was slumped over. “What the fu-...” An axe came flying through the air, hitting the commander in the chest. Braduk and Kudo emerged from the bushes. Kudo ripped his axe out of the dieing humans sternum, charging at the other two who were now off the cart. Braduk ripped the bolt from the driver’s head and engaged the left over humans, crossbow in one hand hammer in the other. “A good find, Braduk.” Braduk nodded to Kudo, who had just kicked the driver from his seat. The two humans had fallen rather quickly. One was lopped in half, the other, missing half his skull. “We will make it back by nightfall if we don’t stop, which we wont.” Braduk sat in the driver’s seat and Kudo climbed into the back. “Finally, I can rest my legs!” Kudo exclaimed, laughing. Braduk chuckled, and with a whip of the reigns, the horses rode forth. Day soon drew onto night, and Braduk and Kudo soon drew close to home. But as they could see it on the horizon, they also saw five carts. Braduks eyes widened, he whipped the horses with their reigns, commanding them to quicken. They rode with all the speed they could. As they arrived, Skog was waiting patiently to greet them. “Braduk! Returned from your adventure it seems.” Skog had a devilish grin sprawled across his mangled face. “A week has not passed Skog you break the agreement!” Braduk said, hopping off the cart. Kudo soon followed. Braduk went face to face with Skog, and for the first time realized, he had to look up. Skog chuckled, patting Braduk on the arm. “My boys and I had a feast to celebrate your cooperation. We quickly ran out of supplies, so we decided to make an early return. Your people tell me you barely have enough for yourselves? Seems we took too much last time. Oops.” Skog looked back to his orcs who all laughed, but Skogs attention soon shifted to the cart of dynamite. “What do we have here hmm?” He prowled around the cart, peering at the dynamite. “Is it safe to assume, you brought this as a gift for me because you were undersupplied?” There was a silence, and Kudo stared at Braduk, who met his gaze for but a moment before speaking. “Yes Skog, of course.” “Perfect! Now to stress that I am such a good and respectable skah’n orc, I will take this and call it even. Next week, I expect normal supplies though.” Skog put his arm around Braduk, who did not shake it off this time. Braduk chuckled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Skog was taken back by Braduks words, but laughed. “See you next week.” Skog ordered some of his orcs onto the dynamite cart, and the now convoy of six rode off. Braduk began walking away, back to his tent upon the hill. About an hour passed, and then a grunt flung the tent flaps open, panting. “Braduk, Gorfjol and a small group, twenty orcs, they’ve left and are headed for Skog!” Braduk looked up from his table. “How many orcs do we have that are fit for battle?” “Five hundred by my last count.” Braduk nodded. “Assemble them all, get them to meet me on the outskirts of the village in an hour.” The grunt nodded, and almost as soon as he left Kudo burst through the tent. “Braduk, what was that?” “Hmm?” “With Skog, are you two friends now or some skah?” “I don’t have the time to explain, but trust me Kudo, I know what I’m doing. Ready yourself for battle. I want you at the outskirts with me in thirty minutes.” The two exchanged nods and went their separate ways. Skog’s last hours were ticking. A brighter future Braduk looked at the horde before him. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he stood amongst them and his father was where he was now. Thoughts of the past served no purpose, and Braduk gripped his shorthammer, scanning the faces of his troops. “My brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, my orcs. We have suffered for too long. We have been forced to eat dirt at the hands of this, monster, known as Skog. That ends now. Our path has been difficult, it has been dark and perilous. But I see a brighter future. And yet to get there, I ask that you follow me, one last time, push yourselves, one last time. And then, we will start truly living, this I promise you.” All of the orcs nodded in agreement. “The sand beneath your feet is sacred ground, watered with tears of blood. We have shed them, but on this day, Skog and his foul orcs will bleed rivers!” Braduk held his hammer up, and his orcs cheered his name. The forces of Braduk, marched. Dawn broke as the orcs of Braduk arrived at the badlands. Braduk send one hundred and fifty orcs to move along the Hilltop so they could attack from the side and outflank Skogs orcs. The forces of Braduk stood proud, proud to fight for their leader, and their leader was proud to fight for them. Marching through the valley, they hit Skogs camp. Standing on the outskirts, Kudo blew a horn to get the orcs attention. Skog emerged, holding Gorfjol by his war pony, dragging him along. Once he felt he was close enough, he dropped Gorfjol to his knees and held a long dagger to his throat. Twenty orcs stood behind Skog, each holding pikes with the heads of the orcs Gorfjol took with him impaled on the tip. Braduk grunted, snarling at the sight of his brother. “It’s a shame we meet like this Braduk!” Skog called out, chuckling. “You just had to push me, didn’t you?! Well now I kill your brother, then we kill you. That’s they way its got to be, I’m sorry my friend. But you brought this on yourself.” It was Braduk who laughed this time, seeing the cart of dynamite, his laugh progressed into a shouting command. “ARCHERS! THE DYNAMITE, FIRE!” On cue, his archers shot a flurry of arrows, some strayed hitting orcs, but most pierced the dynamite. With a deafening roar, the explosives shot out, as if springing to life, spurting fire and shrapnel. The explosion wiped out more than half of Skogs orcs, which left him with about three hundred and fifty. Braduks orcs on the Hilltop charged down, engaging Skog’s dazed and stunned followers. Skog himself and been blown off his feet by the impact. Gorfjol lay face down in the sand, but was breathing. Braduk ran forward, gunning straight for Skog, who by that point had gotten to his feet albeit shakily. When he grew near, Braduk lept into the air, bringing his hammer down onto Skogs skull. Dazed, Skog dropped to his knees. Raising his hammer to finish him, Braduk left himself exposed, allowing Skog to crack some of his ribs with his oak club. The two paced back, preparing to engage. The battle raged on around them, and Kudo had already killed the better part of fifty orcs. Braduk’s hammer and Skogs club met, and the two came face to face. “I promised you I would kill you, skah’ha” Braduk roared, overpowering Skog, pushing him back. Skog parried Braduks next swing. “You will try, and fail! As all those before you did!” Skog swept Braduks leg, causing him to land on the sand with a thud. He swung his club into Braduks hammer, knocking it out of his hand. “Now, you will suffer the same fate as your cousin? I think I remember him calling you his cousin. No matter.” Skog brought his club up, a sadistic smile splattered across his jaw. He slammed the oaken log down with all his force, but it was caught. Braduk had caught it. He got to his knees, and then to his feet, Skog was in shock. Braduk ripped the club from Skogs hands, breaking it in two. “I am not like the ones before me.” Grabbing Skogs throat, Braduk threw four devastatingly powerfully punches to Skogs face, before tripping him to the ground. Spitting some blood, Braduk walked over to his hammer, clutching its handle. He lifted it high above his head, Skog looked at it, beginning to laugh. Braduk shook his head. “Skog, you truly are mad.” Skog broke out into a hysterical laugh, and in one swift blow, his skull was cracked open. Slumping back into the sand, Skog the Mad was dead. When the rest of Skogs forces had been slain, Braduk sought out Gorfjol. He was standing in a crowd of some Braduks orcs. Braduk, with Kudo at his side pushed his way through, punching Gorfjol in the face. The punch sent him to the sand. “What the skah Braduk?” Gorfjol cried out, holding his jaw. “I have had enough, of you disobeying Gorfjol!” Gorfjol quickly got to his feet. “You could have ruined the plan!” Those words had a familiar ring in Gorfjol’s ears. “I did what you refused to do!” Gorfjol retaliated. “No, you put my people’s lives at risk, you let your emotions get the better of you!” Braduk shoved Gorfjol. “You have lost say in all decisions of worth, I will not allow you to bring any further danger to my people!” Gorfjol shoved back. “Your people?! When did they stop being my people too?! You know you were always the prodigal son, the favorite. Father even said so to my face! I was a runt to him, and you, his pride, and it had always been so! Until I ended his wretched life!” Gasps sprung up amongst the orcs. “What?” Braduk dropped his hammer. “On his ship, he did no noble deed. I killed him, for he would have killed me in the same situation!” Braduk lept forward, punching Gorfjol again in the jaw. Gorfjol fell back, and Braduk moved ontop of him, laying punches into his jaw and head. Orcs moved in to break them up, but Kudo motioned for them to stop. “He is gone from this world because of you!” Gorfjols blood splattered across the sand and Braduks knuckles. “As would the rest of us if I had not been captured and you had come to rescue me!” Braduk stopped punching. “You think, I came for you?” He got to his feet, Gorfjol did aswell. “You think I came to rescue you? I came to finish Skog, not for you. That was the plan you skah’ha, and you put that in jeopardy.” Gorfjols face turned red. He looked to a group of five orcs, his best friends. The group left the valley. Kudo walked over to Braduk. “Don’t worry about him.” Braduk shook his head. “I’m not, even so, he will be back. My thoughts turn only towards the future. A brighter future, for our people. We will build something sustainable for generations. We will live.”

((This is the first in a series of posts republicising the fantastic Braduk lore stories written by my predecessors in the clan. The following story, with the exception of my RP introduction, was written by the1bow as the first of two backstories for the late Adam Higgs's tale of the Village Wars. This was likely written with the input of Higgsy, ilikefooddude, yimmya and makka_p, but I can't be 100% sure. The Intro is written in common not blah for the benefit of those not fluent.)) ------------------ Night came to Azaghol one eve. That day had been one of victory and defeat in the melee to the south. Both sides, Human and Orc, had tasted the blood of the other, but still there was stalemate. Wargoth Lukra'Braduk herself had sustained a painful wound to her flank late in the day, necessitating her early withdrawal before the end of the day's skirmishing. She sat resting before the central fireplace of the new city, smoking greens with a few of her clansfolk. A few others had gathered, those of other clans back from the front and a few clanless come to see the returning warriors. The mood was relaxed but somewhat dour. They had done well that day, carrying off skulls and loot from Oren's vanguard, but the death-toll had been heavy in the withdrawal. The mood called for stories and song, tales of victory, something rousing. Lukra smiled. "Any of you heard the tales of Braduk before? In any great detail?" A few Braduks turned to answer, causing her to snort. "Aside from my brother Braduks who know them all to well." A few Orcs nodded, but most did not. Most knew that Braduk was great warrior, fabled leader, and had founded a city in Aegis during the Clash of Clans - that civil war to define all civil wars, that turned the deserts to a sea of chaos and drowned out Krug's peace in a cacophany of mindless bloodshed. But many did not know of Braduk's individual tales, at least not as well as the tales of Krug's children like Gorkil, Lur or Dom. Given a few newer Braduks did not know the fleshed out stories either, Lukra resolved to tell one. She passed around a fresh supply of greens. It was common knowledge that the powerful narcotic aided in imagination, even as far as to contact the spiritual plane. For the purposes of this at least, it would help the story come alive... to hear the words of the players, and the essence of the story. "Cast your minds back to the Clash of Clans, brothers and sisters. A war between Orcs that lasted for decades. Gone was honour and gone was Krugmar. The desert was marked by the clans ripping each other apart for reasons long since forgotten, with each death fueling the hate that would cause the next. The clanless and those who refused to fight to our extinction were slain on sight by the clans for simply not having a side. We were lost within our curse of bloodlust, and Enrohk had not known nor has he known since such a great feast of slaughter. But in the sea of death and madness there were islands of hope, islands of peace between Orcs. But as is often the case, outsiders gather like vultures to prey on Orckind when we are at our most vulnerable..." ----------------- The War of the Black Flag: A brutal war had been tearing the orcs apart. The Clash of the Clans. Orcs had their homes destroyed and were left with nothing, so many banded together. A tent village had risen, but would soon be threatened. First encounters “Pirates?” “Yes, Pirates.” Braduk grunted, this news was not something he wanted to hear. He ran his fingers through his jet-black dread locks. The young orc who was barely in his twenties paced back and forth in his tent. “How many?” Braduk asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “I saw four ships. But there is bound to be more, they look well equipped.” It was Gorfjol, Braduks half brother. The two had a close relationship. Gorfjol was smaller than his brother, also younger, about eighteen. Braduk hooked his shorthammer to his belt. “We need to tell father. These people look to him as a leader. The clans are still at war and we will receive no help. He can rally the people.” Gorfjol nodded in agreement and exited Braduks tent. Before them was a sprawling tent village, an unofficial settlement of hundreds, maybe thousands of orcs. With the clans at a vicious war, many orcs were left without a home. The biggest and strongest orcs took to being the leaders. The biggest and strongest of them all was Braduk and Gorfjols father, Urdnot. He stood a foot above the rest of the orcs with a hair braid as long as an arm. The leaders tent sat atop a small hill. Braduk and Gorfjol entered, and saw Urdnot hovering over a table with a crudely drawn map of the settlement, three other leaders were present. Urdnot looked up as the flaps of the tent flew open, seeing his sons before him. “Father, we have news.” “Of what kind?” Urdnots voice was low and stern. Gorfjol spoke up next. “We are now threatened, its pinkskins.” With a growl Urdnot motioned for the other leaders to exit. “Leave us.” Urdnot moved over to a chair, sitting down gracefully. He leaned back, pulling out a pipe. “Speak, my sons.” The two orcs sat down, and Braduk nudged Gorfjol. “Oh, yes. Me and some boys were scouting the badlands like you said. We went to the moved around to the cliff side where the sea is. Ships, four of them. Judging from the look of their ships they’re not military, but they are pinkskins. Pirates.” Urdnot took a moment to process the information, puffing out a smoke ring. Gorfjol quickly added “I have a feeling theres more than the four I saw though.” Urdnot leaned forward, nodding. “This raises a bit of a problem. They have no purpose here, so its safe to assume they want to move inland. We could defeat them in open combat, but they wont dare try it. They will send out a scout soon no doubt, make sure you get your hands on him. Bring him directly to me, unspoiled.” Braduk and Gorfjol nodded their father, got up and left. Walking back to their tents they spoke as they walked. “Whats your take on this Braduk?” “I’m not sure. We cant be certain they are not just passing by, but if a scout is sent out we know they want this land.” There was an awkward silence between the two brothers. “What?” Gorfjol finally asked, breaking the silence. Braduk looked dead ahead, his voice rough yet completely serious. “War is coming.” The Orc and the Buccaneer The blistering desert sun beat down onto the sands. There was no such thing as a lazy day in the village, so all the orcs were at work. Braduk and Gorfjol lead training sessions with younger orcs. It was then an orc no older than fourteen came sprinting over to the klomping pit. “Braduk! Gorfjol! W-we have secur…” The young orc was panting heavily. Braduk placed a hand on his shoulder. “Take a moment, catch your breath boy.” Gorfjol walked over, still clutching his scimitar. The boy spoke. “The groups Urdnot commanded to watch the Cliffside, they have taken a captive, a scout from the pirates.” Braduk and Gorfjol exchanged glances. The boy looked at the two orcs with a slight sense of intimidation. “Thankyou, return to your works.” Braduk patted the young orc on the arm and he ran off. Braduk looked to Gorfjol, folding his arms. “I need to get these grunts finished up. Go get the pirate scout.” Gorfjol laughed. “Have I always been your errand boy?” The two brothers laughed and exchanged punches to the arm. “No, you had a few years in your mothers wo-…” Silence. Gorfjol looked to the ground and quickly left. Braduk realized what he was saying all too late. Braduks mother was alive, she was crippled, but alive. Gorfjols mother died in child birth. Gorfjol arrived at the Cliffside at the edge of the badlands at noon. The orcs there had the pirate hogtied. Gorfjol approached, sighing. “You are smaller than I expected.” Gorfjol mocked. The pirate was an average sized human, wearing black pants and boots with a red shirt half buttoned up. He looked terrified. Gorfjol crouched down next to him. “You have no real position with your people, do you, human?” The pirate squirmed, trying to break free. Gorfjol stood up and kicked him in the ribs. “When I ask you a question you answer, maggot.” He turned to the orcs. “Where’d you find this one?” “He was wandering into the valley. Heh, lucky we found him, he wouldn’t have lasted a day in the badlands.” The orcs all laughed, Gorfjol however did not. He spoke in a serious tone. “This poor excuse for a creature may not last a day here period. Come on, lets take him home.” “Gorfjol, wait.” Gorfjol cocked an eyebrow. “Look…” The orc motioned towards the sea. Off in the distance, a fleet. Ten ships, armed, large, and armoured. The pirate began to laugh as he layed on the sand. “Oh you think its funny do you, you grotty SCUM!” The pirates head whipped back as Gorfjols foot collided with it, knocking him out. “Hoist him up, we need to return to the village. Now.” Returning to the camp Gorfjol nodded to the orcs who had been at the Cliffside and slung the pirate over his shoulder. He began to make the long trek through the maze of tents to get to the hill where his father would be. Cubs kept trying to poke the pinkskin, for many it was the first time they had seen one. Gorfjol swatted them away. When he arrived at his fathers tent he heard yelling on the inside. He dropped the still unconscious human onto the ground and pulled the tent flaps apart. “You are a real skah head, you know that Urdnot?!” It was Kroaha, Braduks mother, Gorfjols ‘step mother’. Urdnot sighed, slamming his hands on the table. “You are crippled Kroaha, you cannot bare another cub from me.” It was clear this argument had gone on for a while. Urdnot’s face showed exhaustion, and even though he spoke calmly, there was a sense of anger and frustration in is voice. “Just because my leg is messed up doesn’t mean my…” Urdnot slammed his hands down on the table once more. “Enough! I will hear no more of your complaining. Out of my tent, now before I make you get out.” Gorfjol couldn’t help but smirk, the mighty Urdnot, losing his cool over a fearoc. Kroaha hobbled out on her crutches, ignoring Gorfjol. She never cared for him, nor him for her. With another sigh, Urdnot beckoned his son to enter fully. “She bore my strongest son but is a mad fearoc.” His fathers words stung, knowing he meant Braduk but Gorfjol chose to ignore them. “Shes not like your mother was. Your mother was a warrior. She could keep level headed.” Urdnot sighed once more, looking to the ground. “You have never spoken to me about my mother.” Urdnot’s face turned hard and cold, sadness hung over his expression like a dark cloud but Gorfjol sensed something else. Anger? “Another time. You’re obviously here for a reason Gorfjol so get on with it.” Gorfjol raced outside the tent and brought the pirate inside. “A scout, from the pirates. They…” Urdnot interupped. “Your brother, I’d prefer to speak to him on this matter.” Gorfjol was stunned. “B-but.” “Go. Find. Him.” Urdnot stared at his son, his expression turned emotionless. “Yes father.” Gorfjol left the tent, filled with shame. No, he was a strong orc. He was not ashamed of who he was. Or so he thought. He sought out Braduk, who was drinking with some orcs and ferocs at a make shift tavern. “Braduk, father wants you.” Braduk chuckled, standing up. He turned to his drinking partners. “We will continue this klomp at a later date.” All the orcs laughed. Braduk pointed to one of the orcs, it was their cousin, Gundabad. “I will out drink you, you sandy coloured piece of skah.” An eruption of laughter occurred. Braduk slapped his own face trying to sober up, turning to his brother. “Everything ok?” “Yes, of course. Father wants to speak to you, about the pirates.” Braduk punched Gorfjol in the shoulder. “Well lets go then.” Gorfjol stood stone faced, not moving. “No, he wants you and you alone.” Braduk didn’t know what to say, but Gorfjol was already leaving. “Also, tell him the pirates have a fleet of ten well armed war ships docked a little way away from the Cliffside.” And with that, Gorfjol disappeared into the abyss of tents and orcs. Braduk rubbed his stubly chin as he walked, Gorfjol was never that serious. Something was up. He arrived at his fathers tent, and did a double take as he saw the legs of the pirate on one side of the room and the rest of his body on the opposite. Urdnot sat in his chair in the centre behind his table. “Father, ug. Gorfjol is acting strange, do you know anything about this?” Braduk moved to a chair, sitting down, ignoring the groans the pirate made, mourning over his recently departed legs. Urdnot shrugged, spinning a bloodied knife on the table. “I was honest with him.” Braduk leaned forward. “In what way.” “Your mother is a mad b*tch,” Braduk’s eyes widened, “if I could switch her place with Gorfjols mother I would. She may have given birth to you, my strongest son whom I want to take over after I am gone, but she may as well die. She serves no purpose here, and is a waste of food and water.” Braduk got up from his chair, writhing with anger. “Watch your tongue father!” Braduk threw the table in front of him to the side, marching up to his seated father. Urdnot stood up, standing a foot taller than his son. “Or what? You are my favoured son Braduk but there are plenty of ferocs to mate with here. Sit down.” The two exchanged tense stares for another moment, before both returning to there seats. “You are young. You have not experienced harsher realities than this. My generation was taught that the weak are culled and strong survive. Your generation has been living on the idea of banding together to survive, strength in numbers. My points are valid, yet so are yours. That is why your mother still lives.” Braduk sighed. He couldn’t argue with his fathers words, even if he didn’t like the sound of them. “Now, from quickly interrogating this, ‘pirate’, here, they intend to pillage the land. Our camp is too big to allow them to come inland, the chance they could take us by surprise is too great.” “They have a fleet, ten ships Gorfjol said. They are armed and armoured.” The two sat quietly in thought. Braduk suddenly sprung up from his chair, picking up the knife near the fallen table. Urdnot watched curiously. Braduk moved over to the legless pirate, who was now crying. “Pinkskin, what are the chances of a ship coming to shore?” No response, then a shriek of pain. Braduk stabbed the knife down at the pirates crotch, slicing his genetalia. “ARRRGH! THEY MIGHT SEND PEOPLE TO LOOK FOR ME!” The pirate cried out, pain gripping him tightly. Braduk twisted the knife. “How many people are aboard each ship?” “AHHHHRGH! IT VARIES!” Braduk looked back at his father who shrugged. “What the skah does that mean?” The orc twisted the knife more. “AHHHHHHARGHHHHH! THE SHIP THEY’D SEND FOR ME WOULD HAVE ABOUT TWENTY CREWMEN ON IT! NOW STOP, PLEASE!” Braduk pulled the knife out, and then stabbed the pirate through the eye. The butchered human slumped, dead. “Well father, we now have a plan.” Urdnot again looked at his son, curiously. “We wait until they send out a ship, we rope down, take them by surprise. They will only make that mistake once, so once we have one ship its time for battle.” “One ship wont suffice.” Braduk chuckled. “I know that. So on the day we attack, we use that ship to get close, send some boys over to another ship and take that over. Once we get maybe two or three we can start really fighting back.” “Three. Three ships Braduk. We will take three, and keep sending orcs onto their ships to clear them out.” Urdnot stood up, placing a hand on his sons shoulder. “Good job my son. You are a tactician. I believe you will be destined for great things.” “Am I truly worthless to you?” Gorfjol muttered, leaving the outside of the tent. Venture to the blue abyss Gorfjol sat in his tent, the night was long and hot. The words of his father stuck in his mind as if an arrow had been shot through his skull. That’s what it felt like. Braduk was always the favoured son, Gorfjol knew this. It always lurked in the back of his mind, but he never really thought about it. He held his brother in the highest regard and respected him greatly. Yet Gorfjol longed for his fathers acceptance, and hearing him say how much better Braduk was than him burnt more than a thousand flames. “Brother, we take the ship. Ready yourself.” Braduk poked his head into the tent but was gone as quickly as he had come. This was the night, the night the war started. Gorfjol armoured himself, leaving his tent. A crowd of maybe thirty, thirty five orcs stood not too far a way. They were all huddled around Braduk. Gorfjol quickly joined them. “Pinkskins, pirates, have come to take our land. They will try. And they will fail. We are orcs, we endure!” The orcs around braduk cheered in agreement. “We will descend the Cliffside, and we will take their ship, and we will defend this land and we will once again, ENDURE!” The orcs roared. Braduk raised his hammer. “Lets go kill some pirates!” Clashes of steel radiated through the camp, then the march of the blood thirsty orcs. Gorfjol halted Braduk. “Whats happening?” Braduk began walking and motioned for Gorfjol to follow. “They have sent a ship, cannons and all to the Cliffside. They’ve shot ropes up and unless I miss my guess, will be climbing up.” Braduk chuckled. “Regardless of whether any have made it up already, we will kill them all and take their ship, and in the morning, end this.” The two began jogging to catch up with the orcs. The orcs layed prone on the Hilltop, which allowed them to stay unseen and have a height advantage. Four pirates sat next to the edge of the Cliffside, already having made the climb. Braduk made the guess that they were waiting until morning to send the rest of the crew up. A fatal mistake. Without a sound, Braduk pointed to his archers. The pull of the bowstring, aim, fire…dead. The four pirates landed on the sand with a faint thud. Braduk waved his hand forward and his forces moved silently down the Hiltop dunes and reached the edge of the Cliffside. The ropes had been shot up through harpoons. Braduk kicked each of them. “They’ll hold,” he said, speaking lowly and quietly, “we will only be able to send four orcs down at a time. Gorfjol, you will come down first with me,” Braduk pointed to two other orcs, “you two aswell.” No other words were spoken, nor needed to be spoken. The four orcs began their descent down. The ocean wind was uneasy this night, making the trip that much more dangerous. Braduk looked to Gorfjol to check how he was going, Gorfjol nodded. He looked to the other two orcs who nodded aswell. As they neared the ship, they noticed the crew was drunk. Most were passed out, atleast all the ones on the top deck were, and then, four consecutive thuds. The orcs had landed. Immediately the next four started their descent. Braduk, Gorfjol and the two grunts chuckled. This was going to be easier than they had initially anticipated. Slit throats, stabbed chest and removed heads was the fate of the ships crew. All of the orcs had reached the ship, many were pillaging the lower decks but Braduk, Gorfjol and a few others cleared the bodies, throwing them over board. Braduk was lifting a body when the pirates clothes got caught on the railing of the ship. Gorfjol looked to his knife, then back to Braduk. Urdnots favoured son, the orc that made Gorfjol second rate. The wind had stopped for that moment, the air tense. Gorfjol drew his knife, and walked towards his brother. He felt eyes on him. Quickly, he turned and saw a young orc, maybe sixteen looking at him. The splash of the body Braduk had been working on hitting the water broke the eery silence. Braduk turned around, slapping his brother on the arm. “We did well today. You and I will need to return though.” Braduk looked to a stray grunt walking around the deck. “Tell the others to remain here and try to rest. Tomorrow, we put down the pirate scum.” The grunt nodded, and Braduk and Gorfjol moved to the ropes to start the climb up. “Braduk, wait.” The two turned. It was the sixteen-year-old orc. Gorfjol’s heart raced. “Yes boy?” Braduk walked over to him “Gor-…” “Braduk we are losing the cover of night, we need to hurry.” Gorfjol shot in, Braduk nodded. “You’re right. Is this important boy?” The young orc nodded, looking at Gorfjol. “Make the climb with us, you can tell me after we have attended to our business.” The young orc gulped, and Gorfjol let out a silent growl. Moving to the ropes, the trio climbed silently. Braduk’s face was determined, determined to reach the top and get to his father. Gorfjols expression however, was one of worry. He knew he had been caught out. When they reached the top, they took a moment to catch their breath. “Brother, I’ll see what the boy wants. Father will want you, go Braduk.” Braduk patted his brother on the arm. “Thankyou Gorfjol.” He quickly ran off, leaving Gorfjol with the young orc. Gorfjols face stretched into an evil smirk. “You got a lot of balls, you know that boy?” The young orc paced backwards, but with every step, Gorfjol followed. “Trying to ruin me. Hah! Did you think I would let you even try?” Reaching the edge of the cliff, the boy had no choice but to face Gorfjol. “I saw you, you were going to kill him.” “Yeah, I was. I still might. My brother, hes a good orc, but I like to think of myself as better than him,” Gorfjol snapped his hand forward and grabbed the young orcs throat, “don’t think of this as something personal. It could’ve been anyone.” And with that, Gorfjol ripped his knife from its sheathe and lodged it in the brain of the orc. He took a glance down the cliff, no orcs on the top deck. Perfect. Gorfjol pulled the knife out of the young orcs skull and kicked him over the side. As Gorfjol began jogging back to the camp, a faint splash sprung from the waters bellow. Gorfjol couldn’t help it, he laughed hysterically. Destined for great or terrible things “You will lead the ramming ship.” Urdnot looked at Braduk across the table. Braduk was in shock. “But what of your other commanders, surely they…” “When you were born, the old feroc who pulled you from your mother prophesized you would be destined for great, or terrible things. The same thing was said when your brother was born. I am certain you are destined for greatness, my son. Prove me right on this day. You will lead the ship that will ram other ships, board them, and then commandeer them.” “You honour me father.” Braduk bowed his head. “Then honour me in return. Begin your path to greatness, today. Not tomorrow, not next year, now.” As if almost on cue, Gorfjol flung the flaps of the tent open, a gush of hot desert air flying in. “I should go prepare the orcs.” Braduk and Urdnot nodded, and Braduk left. “Yes, Gorfjol.” “I find it a bit odd I don’t even know what the plan for this battle is, being your son and all.” Urdnot sighed. “You’re on a need to know basis, ok?” Gorfjol shook his head. “Tell me.” Urdnot grunted, and sighed once more. “I will be in command of the first ship. We will use it to take over a second ship, which Braduk will be in command of, and again for a third ship. Braduks ship will be ramming and boarding the enemies ships, my and the other ship will be fighting them with artillery.” “I assume I will be in command of the third ship?” Gorfjol asked sincerely. “Bah! No. I would not allow you to potentially ruin this plan by taking on more than you could handle.” “What are you saying?” “You will be on my ship where I can keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t skah this up.” Gorfjol was shocked. “But father I deserve-…” “You deserve nothing! You believe just because you are my son you are owed something? You draw breath only because it would be frowned upon for me to kill you. You, the runt who killed his mother to come into this world. My mate, who I wanted to become my lifemate. You are a shame to me and the ancestors before me. The love your mother held for you is the only reason I did not take your life when she died, because I knew how much she loved her child. Yet neither Krug nor any orc will compel me to ever give you a position of command. Go, out of my tent! Now.” Gorfjol couldn’t bear to look at his father. Without saying a word, eyes planted at his feet, Gorfjol left. Dawn broke, and Urdnot stood on a pedestal, his small hoard before him. Braduk and Gorfjol were in the front lines. “My brothers and sisters! We have established a new society during these tough times. War has ravaged our kin, yet we found peace.” Urdnot spoke, waving his curved sword around. Braduk looked at his father with a sense of proudness. Gorfjol couldn’t even look in his direction. “But whenever you find something good, there is always somebody ready to take it. We will stand and fight against these pinkskins, and show them that this is our land! And to take it, they will need to kill every, last, one of us!” All the orcs cheered. Only one remained silent. Gorfjol. The smell of the sea filled the morning air. Urdnot stood at the helm of the ship, Braduk at his side. Gorfjol was in the lower decks. All the orcs were hyping up for the battle, but Gorfjol kept to himself. “They will not know that we have taken this ship until we are close,” Braduk said to his father, “give me a small boarding party, we will take the next ship.” “Yes, I will organize you fifty orcs. Gork will secure a third ship. You know your plans Braduk.” The two nodded to eachother, and the orcs prepped themselves for battle. As the ship grew closer, they could make out how many men were on board each ship. The better part of seventy men per ship. The orcs outnumbered them. CRASH “Go my brothers and sisters! Take the ship!” The orcs ship had just slammed up next to one of the pirate ships. Braduk lept across first, crushing a pirates skull with his hammer. He could hear Urdnot commanding Gork’s squad to board the next ship. Cannon fire broke his train of thought. Two pirates charged him simultaneously, but with two strong swings of his hammer, they each hit the deck, dead. “You four, storm the lower decks, go!” Braduk pointed to four large orcs, who nodded and lifted the hatch to move to the ship’s lower decks. Braduk looked around, parried an on coming sword and swung his hammer at the pirates ribs, breaking them. Leaving the pirate to die, he moved to the ships helm, climbing up the stairs. A pirate wearing an assortment of gold jewelery stood before him, he was the captain. Braduk charged him, tackling him to the ground. Braduk offered no breathing room, and quickly snapped the captains neck. He looked over to the ship to his left, his father’s ship. It was firing at the enemy. Braduk then looked at the ship to his right, Gork had just taken it over. The orcs on Braduks ship roared, and Braduk grabbed the ships wheel. He pointed at a ship infront of him, roaring. “Prepare to board brothers!” Urdnot’s ship had now taken serious damage, a hole had been blown open in the side, and the ship had caught fire. “Urdnot! We need more boys up here!” Urdnot nodded, beginning to run to the hatch on the deck. “Take command, Ill bring up some orcs.” The lower deck was lit up with flames. All the orcs in sight were dead, leaving only Urdnot and three others alive on top. Suddenly without warning, part of the top deck collapsed. Urdnot was caught underneath the rubble, only his head and one of his arms stuck out. He snarled, smoke filling his lungs. Gorfjol quickly ran over to him, trying to get the wooden debris off of his father. “Gorfjol! Thankyou my son, quick, help me out of here.” Gorfjol suddenly stopped. “What are you doing? Help me!” “No. You’ve wanted me dead. From the very beginning, you wanted me dead. I have always been the runt of the family to you. You never cared about me.” Gorfjol drew his scimitar. “STOP! That is a lie Gorfjol!” Urdnot pleaded. Gorfjol did not waver. Knowing that his time had come, Urdnots pupils dilated, and he looked dead straight into his sons eyes. “Destined for terrible things…” Gorfjol, without hesitation, stabbed down into his fathers skull, ending him. More of the ship collapsed, and Gorfjol ran to the hole in the side and dived into the waters bellow. “The pirates, HAVE FALLEN!” Braduk shouted, raising his bloodied shorthammer in the air. All of the orcs cheered, but soon silenced when they saw Urdnot’s ship slowly descend into the blue abyss. “NO!” “Braduk! Its Gorfjol, hes in the water by the ship!” Braduk moved over to the side, seeing his brother. “Bring him up!” Some of the orcs helped Gorfjol onto the ship. He was panting, and coughed up some water. “Brother, I-…” Braduk moved over to his younger brother, grabbing his shoulder. “Are you ok?” “Yes but-…father…he told me to abandon the ship. He tried to get as many orcs off before it sank. I was the only survivor. He told me he was going to go down with the ship. I-I…I’m sorry Braduk.” Braduk bowed his head. His father was gone. Braduk slumped against the railing. “Be strong big brother, these people will look to you as their leader now. These people will need you.” “You’re right. The battle is over, we have won.” Braduk and Gorfjol embraced, hugging each other. Gorfjols face faintly stretched into an evil smile…

Lukra in turn takes up a cup and fills it with the foul liquid.

A proclamation is issued from the Wargoth council and others: KULGAROK'LAK HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM POWER. A NEW ASSEMBLY IS CALLED AT SAN'KHARAK.

Lukra silences the Braduks voting for her with a steely look, before turning to the general assembly. "Befur wi ztart votin ohn Rex, eidur thruu demand ub da peepul ur klomp, wi hav tu wurk owt wut owur wub dey will be Rex of. Wi need muur blah ohn da ztrukture ub owur nation, amung udda tingz."

Wargoth Lukra'Braduk emerges, she nods to Drokon and the other higher ups, and others she knows. She looks with contempt upon the ranting goblin. "Latz hayt latzelf zuu much, gobbo, mi am zure deyur am plenteh ub Urukz heyur who wuld help latz wiv endin it all." She addresses the rest of the crowd. "Mi am Lukra, uv unknown birth, swordzizta agh mayt tu da flat Wargoth agh Rex Kahn 'Iron Rhino' Braduk, muthur tu da flat Wargoth agh Targoth Mok'han Braduk, agh kurrent agh undisputed Warlord-agh-Wargoth uv da Braduk klan." "Da Braduk klan am azh dat ztikz tu tradition dogmatikally, az haz bin owur way. Bud tuu zurvive, wi hav had tu change. Bai ancient rytz mi hav nub klaim tu da title uv klan leader. Mi am nub uv Braduk'z famileh, let alone hiz line. Bud between da choice uv tradition ur peepin mi klan zlide intu extinktion, mi tuuk da title uv Warlord-agh-Wargoth bekuzz deyur wuz nubazh zkahin wortheh tu du id. Mi hav zinze demolished maneh old lawz regardin bluud agh zervice in da Braduk klan. Reform wuz nezazareh fur zurvival." "Ohn da izzue uv guvurnment... maneh muzt bi azh agayn. All urukz muzt work togetha tu zerve owur peepul. Nub longur muzt wi allow pettinezz tu klowd owur uniteh." She looks momentarily at the Shamanic contingent from Angathgul as she says the next. "Agh all thoze hu blah uv zayvin owur peepul muzt be willin tu ztand tugetha agh klomp fur owur zurvival, rathur den chazin vizions agh klompin internal feudz dat endagur owur few allianzez will meen zkah all iv we am wiped out ur forzed tu kneel before da zharaz." "Da Urukz muzt reform. Zlavereh am da way uv da week - forzin zumazh elze tu du latz tazkz for latz ownleh zpeekz tu latz lakk uv abiliteh agh lazinezz rather den latz abiliteh tu dominayt uddaz. Raidin indezkriminateleh... dat am nubhozh in deez dire tikz. Wi hav nub da numbahz ur ztrength tu flat owur enemehz ohn owur own. Id ownleh invitez muur trubble bakk howm. Raidin am owur way. Bud let uz rayd owur enemehz in war ownleh, nub pizz off zkaherz dat hav nuthin tu du wiv uz."